Page 8

She turned away once more and covered her face, fresh tears falling, and this time he was helpless to resist. He took her gently into his arms, nestled her dark head beneath his chin and held her as she sobbed. He made soothing noises and rubbed small circles upon her back, not able to find words but hoping that his presence might bring her comfort.

After a few minutes, the storm passed, and she mumbled something into his chest that he could not make out. He drew back a little, just enough to see her face.

"What did you say?"

"It is you," she whispered, looking up at him with the most miserable expression he had ever seen. "I am very sorry to inform you, Mr Darcy, but you were the man I saw."

"Then you meant for me... you wanted me... you desired that I might kiss you?" he said, the words escaping in a breathless rush.

"No, of course not! I would never ask that of you. It would be quite improper, and now I feel ridiculous all over again for having revealed any of this."

He saw her straighten her spine and attempt to pull her features into an expression of polite nothingness, although her cheeks remained a delicate shade of pink.

"You do not wish to kiss me, then?"

"I do not know, sir. It was not... oh, I do not know! I believe I must return to my party."

Every part of his body screamed for her to stay. He wanted to grab her about the waist, pull her against him and plunder her mouth, but instead he reached out a hand and gently took one of her small hands in his.

"Please stay," he said quietly.

"I thought you disliked me so," she replied, looking up at him in wonder but making no move to pull away.

"I have never disliked you. You affect me greatly, and my behaviour towards you has been ungentlemanly, to say the least, but I have never disliked you, Elizabeth. You are the most handsome woman of my acquaintance, and by far the most intelligent and witty. You are kind, too, although I fear I have done little to deserve your kindness."

"But you always argue with me!"

He let out a hollow laugh. "I did not mean for it to be an argument. I so enjoy talking with you, debating with you. I suppose it was pig-headed of me to assume that you enjoyed it too."

She stepped closer to him then, her free hand coming up to gently touch his face. It was a delicate, hesitant touch, but he felt his skin heat beneath her fingertips, and it made him hungry for more of her. More of her touch, more of her warmth, more of everything.

She was smiling at him now, a small, nervous smile, and he could scarcely believe that this was happening. Elizabeth Bennet was standing in his arms, looking up at him as though she might welcome his attentions. He could feel the warmth of her fingers against his cheek and the faint trembling of the hand still in his own, and when her gaze dropped to his mouth, the tight hold he had on his control snapped.

"Elizabeth," he murmured, moving slowly and giving her every opportunity to draw away.

She did not pull away. Her fingers moved hesitantly against his cheek, and she lifted her face towards him.

He bent his head and kissed her. He had imagined kissing Elizabeth more times than he cared to admit, but none of his imaginings had prepared him for the sweetness of her mouth or the extraordinary sensation of finally holding her against him. Her lips were soft and warm beneath his, and for a moment she was still as a statue, as though surprised by the sensation. He was about to draw away, afraid that he had presumed too much, when she gave a sigh and pressed her lips more firmly against his.

Good God. His hand moved to her waist, drawing her gently closer, while the other came up to cradle her cheek. She was so warm beneath his hands, her small figure fitting against his as though she had been made for that purpose. He could feel her fingers curling into the front of his waistcoat, and when he tilted his head and kissed her again, she responded with such sweet enthusiasm that he forgot they were standing upon Bingley's terrace, with half of Hertfordshire only a few yards away.

He had intended to kiss her gently, just once, but now that he had begun, he found it impossible to stop. Her hand had slipped from his chest to the back of his neck, her fingers brushing the hair at his nape before tangling in it, pulling him closer. Her other hand found its way into his hair too, dislodging several of the little red beads pinned amongst her curls. They fell to the stone terrace with a faint clatter, scattering around their feet like the pomegranate seeds they represented, but neither of them paid the slightest attention. He kissed her more deeply, feeling her rise upon her toes to meet him, and for several glorious heartbeats there was nothing in the world but Elizabeth and the warmth of her mouth beneath his.

When at last he drew back, it was only far enough to look at her. Her eyes were still closed, her lips slightly parted, and several dark curls had escaped their pins to tumble around her shoulders. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He brushed his thumb gently across her cheek, unable to resist the temptation to kiss her once more.

But then a dreadful thought struck him. She had not come to him because she wished to be kissed. She was terrified of some ridiculous curse, and he had taken advantage of her distress to indulge his own base desires. Desires he had been attempting to suppress for weeks. She had said nothing of her feelings for him, only of her belief that he disliked her. He had known why she wanted him to kiss her, had heard the whole sorry tale from her own lips, and still had allowed himself to believe that her willingness meant more.

He released her as though he had been burned, taking several stumbling steps backwards to put as much space as possible between them. Good God, what had he done?

Elizabeth looked at him in confusion and horror. "Mr Darcy?"

"I beg your pardon," he said, his voice sounding strange and tinny to his own ears. "I should not have done that. You were distressed, and I... I had no right to take advantage of the situation."

The colour drained from her cheeks. "But I..."

"No, please. You need not explain yourself. I understand perfectly well. And you have accomplished your goal, and so I shall remove myself from your... er... person."

She had needed a kiss to satisfy the demands of a foolish superstition, and he had been so overcome by his own feelings that he had entirely misunderstood her intentions. What must she think of him? He had allowed himself to believe that she might actually wish to kiss him when all she had wanted was to avoid a marriage to Mr Collins.