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He shrugged. “I shall make the excuse of wanting to go horse riding before the sun sets or whatever comes to mind. Then, after I am gone, you ought to be able to slip away with the excuse of refreshing yourself.”

A half-hour later, the two of them sat on a sofa behind locked doors—him between her knees.

Darcy sat perfectly still with his mouth on Elizabeth’s breast, suckling her, encouraging her to enjoy his hardness up and down its length. She was so tight and moist and warm. He really wished to stay there inside of her all night long, but he knew they had little time. What they shared was merely a precursor meant to tease, even gratify, not fully sate. He wanted her in his bed for that particular purpose.

“Are you spending the night at Netherfield?”

“No,” she said, almost apologetically.

“Meet me in the morning,” he said, holding her tightly, and by now, he was stroking in and out. “On your morning walk. As incredible as this feels, I fear it is only the tip of what I truly mean to bestow.” He gave her another powerful thrust. “Say you will.”

Elizabeth was on the brink of ecstasy, and she knew it. She thrust her body against his. Feeling what she was feeling was all she wanted to do, with no thoughts of the next day or the day after that.

“Meet me,” he repeated.

“Yes!” she cried out at length. “Yes!”

The ensuing days and nights were a blur filled with blissful interludes. Darcy’s mind dwelt on their past times together whenever they were apart.

Lying alone in his bed with his head resting on his clutched hands, Darcy remembered their being together on an especially beautiful day. The sun had shone brightly, the warmth of it caressing his face. Elizabeth’s hair flowed freely, the sunlight catching it, making it glisten like diamonds in the air. He remembered those dark, wispy locks, causing his heart to feel as though it would beat out of his chest. He had taken off his coat and handed it to her, giving her the task of holding it while he slipped his arm around her waist, his hand reaching up and cupping her soft cheek. How perfect her skin had looked against his fingers, tanned from being in the sun. He could still remember how her cheeks had had that rosy, flushed glow that made her look so lovely.

He remembered it all as if it was just that morning. Even when he closed his eyes, he could see Elizabeth. He could hear her laughter, see her smile, hear her squeal in delight as they cavorted in the open meadow, frolicking amid the tall grass and enjoying each other’s presence while relishing the sense of freedom that the outdoors afforded.

Darcy was in danger of falling in love with Elizabeth, a woman he might never truly have the way things presently stood. He could not let himself fall for her completely, for she was betrothed to another, but a man could not deny the sparks he felt every time he was around her. It was like they had known each other forever.

Days had passed since his last time with Elizabeth. Though she did not always return to Longbourn with the rest of the party when they concluded their visits to Netherfield, that annoying Mr. Collins had insisted she return to Longbourn that last time, owing to looming threats of heavy rainfall. Darcy had not seen her since.

He did not like the idea of visiting Longbourn, especially after having been forced to converse with Collins for nearly a half-hour during his last visit. Still, there were times when it was absolutely necessary if he wished to keep his wits. This was one of those times. Even if he did nothing else but look at her, it would be enough. How fortunate it would be if the two of them found themselves alone for a few minutes—long enough for him to take her in his arms and satiate a modicum of his aching desire for the taste of her skin and warmth of her nearness with a lingering kiss.

Elizabeth must surely suffer the same aching desire for him. They had not seen each other for days because of unrelenting downpours.

At last, the rain had stopped, the skies were blue, and Darcy could wait no longer.

Chapter 8

A surfeit of rainy days had conspired to keep Elizabeth and the rest of the Longbourn household away from Netherfield Park, much to her disappointment and partly her delight. She hated the spectacle her mother, younger sisters, and Mr. Collins always made of themselves in their vain attempts to garner Mr. Darcy’s approbation. She felt almost bad for him, the way he sat quietly, almost rudely, aloof from conversation. Elizabeth suspected she might have to share too much of his attention with others if he were half as amiable as his friend Charles Bingley.

Elizabeth wanted to have the gentleman all to herself whenever they were near, hence her reason for declining the invitation to join the others when they called on Netherfield that day. While meditating on this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the door-bell, and her spirits grew quite lively when she saw the gentleman of her musings walk into the room.

“You, sir, have a most uncanny knack for calling here at Longbourn when the rest of my family is away at Netherfield,” Elizabeth said when the servant quit the room.

“Imagine that.”

“A coincidence, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Mr. Darcy repeated, throwing a glance around the room.

“Please sit. I am hoping you will have tea and refreshments.” Sitting herself, her cheeks flushed as a result of his unexpected yet welcomed arrival.

“Yes, tea would be nice.” He sat and reached for her hand. “That is, as long as you would care to join me. Would you?”

Freeing her hand, Elizabeth felt her color rising. “Oh, yes. Yes, I shall. I had just called for tea before your arrival.”

Moments later, a servant appeared, set up the table, and withdrew just as quickly.

Elizabeth spent the next few minutes preparing the tea things while trying to get her feelings under control. Unfortunately, the ensuing silence did not help, especially when Mr. Darcy studied her every move the way he did.

Upon handing her guest the cup, she said, “Mr. Darcy, I did not expect to see you here today.”