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Authors: Abigail Reynolds

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BOOK: By Force of Instinct
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By FoRce oF InstInct

why should he be trying to charm her now, when he had been the one to walk away from their understanding? true, he had probably not wished to do so, but the choice was his; he had made his choice, and he should not toy with her now. she raised her chin slightly as hopelessness began to shift to anger; the anger she had been trying so valiantly to repress for these past weeks. “Very nice, Mr. Darcy. Is the lesson completed now?”

He had the gall to look injured. “My apologies, Miss Bennet; it was not my intention to impose upon you.”

she forced herself to look at him steadily; although there was in her a tolerably powerful feeling towards him, she would not have him know it.

Without a word she turned and rejoined the Gardiners.

Miss Darcy, picking up on the tension between the two, could not resist needling her brother. “What, Fitzwilliam, you have shown her the de la tour and the rembrandt but not the book!” she exclaimed, in a manner that bespoke criticism. “Those are his treasures,” she said to the Gardiners,

“and he adores sharing them.”

Darcy thought darkly that Georgiana had a lesson coming to her on proper respect and how to behave in front of company; he would have a word with Mrs. Annesley in the morning. “I believe that Miss Bennet’s interest might not extend that far, Georgiana,” he said levelly. “Would you show our guests back to the drawing room, and I shall follow in a moment.”

I shall need more than a moment,
he thought bitterly,
to prepare myself to
meet the massed hostility of Elizabeth and Georgiana!
Georgiana gave him a mutinous glance, but complied with his request.

elizabeth’s attention had been caught by their pointed interaction, and her eyes were drawn again to his face, where it was impossible for one so attuned to him as she to miss the pain and sense of exhaustion. It took only one look for her to realize that she had been less than truthful with herself; she knew that he would never toy with her, that such deceit would be foreign to him. Her anger grew not from his actions, but from her own fear, a fear of allowing herself to care for him again, a fear of her own vulnerability to him. With an impulse she did not care to examine too closely, she said boldly, “If you have another favourite work, sir, I should like to see it if you are willing.” no sooner were the words out of her mouth than in her confusion she wished them unsaid, but the lifting of the pain in his eyes gave her a combination of pleasure and relief. she felt her resentment 109

Abigail Reynolds

towards him slipping away as he met her gaze with his old, warm look, and she had to firmly instruct her treacherous body to remember that he was no longer hers.

“It would be entirely my pleasure, Miss Bennet,” he said formally, not trusting himself with words any closer to his heart, for fear of what more he might say. “Would you like to see more paintings?—or, if you prefer, I have an interesting Book of Hours, to which my sister alluded.”

“I will follow your recommendation, sir,” she said, attempting without success to still her heart.
Anger is far safer for me than is sympathy!
she thought ruefully.

He gestured to her to follow him across the hall into a well-lit room which evidently served as his study. From a glass-covered bookcase he removed a large book and carefully slipped it out of its wrappings before setting it on the desk. He pulled out the chair for her, and she seated herself, shivering a bit at the intimate notion of sitting in
his
chair at
his
desk.

“This is the Great Book of st. Helen’s Abbey,” he said as he gently opened the tome. “you may find the illuminations of interest, although the text is in Latin and unremarkable.”

If elizabeth was lacking in knowledge regarding artwork, the same could not be said of history. Her father had inspired an interest in the subject in her, and her reading had been both broad and deep. As she carefully examined the book, turning the pages slowly and carefully with respect for their age, she asked him several questions about its provenance and history, grateful for the distraction from her feelings it provided.

He stood back and watched her as she examined each page, her slender fingers resting lightly on the desk next to the book. He traced the lines of her hand with his eyes, imagining for a moment how it would feel to have her touch him again. The sensation in memory of her hands upon his shoulders overtook him with a power which surprised him. In the headiness of being alone with her, he could barely bring himself to recall any reason why she would refuse him. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and paused to point out a particular characteristic of the page she was reading. she looked up at him with a brief smile, but her attention was clearly on the book.

His eyes travelled along the exposed skin of her shoulders and neck, remembering how soft it had felt beneath his lips, its rich, warm scent of roses and fresh air, and how she had arched herself against him at his 110

By FoRce oF InstInct

touch …
Stop it!
he admonished himself harshly.
You are doing nothing but
torturing yourself!
His imagination, however, was not to be directed away.

His eyes fastened on the tiny curls of dark hair escaping their confinement to lie against the nape of her neck, and he felt an urgent desire to reach out to stroke them and to caress the sensitive skin beneath them—he could almost imagine how she would gasp with pleasure at his touch.
She would
do nothing of the sort; you would be fortunate if she did not berate you soundly
for your presumption!
he reminded himself, but it was of no use.

In a vain attempt to bring an end to his dangerous musings, he tried to return to a discussion of the book. “The calendar illustrations …” His speech halted briefly as, when he leaned in to point out a section, her well-remembered fragrance wafted past him. “The calendar illustrations are particularly fine; June and August are favourites of mine.”

A certain tension in his voice alerted elizabeth, whose attention had been drawn by the Book of Hours, to his proximity. From the corner of her eye she could see him gazing at her intently, and her breathing quickened im-perceptibly. she wished she could think of a rejoinder to relieve the tension, but her wit seemed to have deserted her. Unconsciously her fingers caressed the elaborate binding of the book. “The binding is well preserved, and very beautiful,” she said, her voice betraying some of the strain she felt.

Darcy could bear it no longer it. she was so close to him—how could she fail to see that she belonged in his arms, and nowhere else? His senses already spinning from her nearness, he saw her bite her lower lip as if in indecision, and the sight of it moved him beyond his accustomed caution against allowing himself any vulnerability. His hand moved as though of its own accord to rest on her shoulder.

A spark lanced through elizabeth like lightning at his touch. Their eyes met as she turned her head to look at him, and his dark eyes spoke elo-quently to her of his need. she knew that she should tell him to desist, but she hesitated a moment, and in that moment she was lost.

The look in her eyes told him that there was still hope, and he was desperate. “I beg of you, do not push me away, elizabeth,” he entreated in a hoarse whisper as he began to move towards her, his eyes fixed on the curves of her lips.

she could no more have denied him than she could have kept the tide from rising, and she trembled as he met her longings with a kiss which 111

Abigail Reynolds

bespoke the depth of his passion. The now familiar sense of desire raced through her, and even the exquisite sensation of his lips upon hers could not quite outweigh her feelings of pure relief and gladness at discovering that he was still no more indifferent to her than she was to him. His lips met hers time and again, as if fearful to demand more, until her need grew so great that she turned to find her fulfilment in his embrace. His arms tightened around her convulsively as he whispered her name.

It was more than Darcy could take in—that she was truly in his arms again, that she was responding to him with as great a need as he himself felt, and, for the first time, apparently without reservation. He deepened their kiss, exploring the routes of passion with a possessive urgency, as if he feared that she would disappear at any moment. He could sense her surrender building, and wanted to demand that she admit that she was his, that she would never leave him, but in fear of what she might say, he instead used his lips and his hands to insist on more, to exact from her every ounce of passion and caring she would give. In complete disregard for their situation, he worked his fingers into the softness of her hair, caressing its silkiness even as he held her to him—not that she was making any attempt to escape, but he was desperate for her.

Her legs were becoming weak as his passion wreaked havoc with her sensibilities. she could no longer deny her own need for him, or her ter-rifying desire for him to touch her ever more intimately. recklessly, she clung to him even more closely with no wish to deny him, entranced by the comfort and the excitement of his strong body against her own. The feeling of his hand so intimately entwined with her hair, and brushing against the sensitive skin of her scalp, seemed to tap into a deep desire to abandon all propriety for the sake of the sensations only he could induce in her. Her ability to recall anything in the world outside of him was beginning to fade when her heedless abandon was punctured by an unexpected and unwelcome sound.

“Mr. Darcy!” Mr. Gardiner’s voice was sharp and icy.

elizabeth froze at the sound of her uncle’s voice. The sudden shock of shifting from the heat of passion and the almost frightening fervency of Darcy’s lovemaking to the reality of the compromising position in which she had just been caught was wrenching. she slowly and numbly stepped away from Darcy, feeling quite faint. Mr. Gardiner’s strict standards had 112

By FoRce oF InstInct

been impressed on her over the years; she knew all too well how seriously she had violated them and that the consequences would not be light.

“Mr. Darcy,” repeated Mr. Gardiner, his tone cutting, “I am aware that many people are under the impression that liberal political attitudes are necessarily accompanied by loose morals, but I can assure you that this is not the case.”

There was a glacial silence as Darcy tried to regain his composure, torn between concern over elizabeth’s pallor and the need to deal with Mr.

Gardiner. “sir, I am under no such impression,” he said finally. “If I have allowed temptation to get the better of me, it is not because I do not have the highest opinion of Miss Bennet’s morals. I hold her in the most tender regard and hope to have the honour someday of calling her my wife.”

elizabeth closed her eyes at the words which she had only a few minutes earlier longed to hear. Then they might have filled her with happiness, but to know that he was saying them when in honour he had no other choice, made the taste of them bitter. “Uncle …” she began hesitantly.

“Lizzy, I will speak to you later!” he interrupted sharply. “Mr. Darcy, I will not deny that I am gravely disturbed by this behaviour toward a guest under your own roof, and I must insist on knowing if you intend to stand by your words.”

Darcy drew a deep breath in anger at this slight, but his answer was forestalled by elizabeth, who found herself experiencing a quite unexpected protective impulse towards him. “Uncle, you need have no doubts of him,”

she said softly. “He has already made me the offer of his hand.” As unpleasant as the situation might be, she could not in conscience allow Darcy to take the blame for her errors in judgment.

“Is this true?” Mr. Gardiner demanded of Darcy.

Although tempted for a moment to take the excuse offered by elizabeth, Darcy could not bring himself to take such a step so shortly after his honour had been directly questioned. “Miss Bennet is very kind to me,” he said levelly, looking at her. “While it is true, the occasion she speaks of was some months ago, and she declined to accept.” He met Mr. Gardiner’s fierce gaze directly.

The almost palpable tension between the two men grew as Mr. Gardiner said, “And does your offer still hold then, sir?”

“I have already said that it does,” Darcy said sharply. turning to elizabeth, 113

Abigail Reynolds

he added in a gentler tone, “Miss Bennet, will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?” The trepidation he felt in making this public offer after his previous reception and in these strained circumstances made his words seem rather cooler than he intended, and he could only hope she would understand his intent.

elizabeth looked away. she no longer had any doubt that he still cared for her, and cared passionately, but she could not bear to see him forced into a marriage that would bring him in close relationship with the man he detested above all others and a family mired in disgrace. “Uncle,” she said, her voice low, “there are circumstances of which you are not aware.”

“I have seen all the
circumstances
I need, and I must say that I am surprised at you, Lizzy,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “I am awaiting your answer.”

“Please, let me speak with you privately,” she pleaded.

“elizabeth!” Mr. Gardiner said with a sharpness that would not be gainsaid.

elizabeth gazed at the floor for a moment, and then resignedly she looked up at Darcy and essayed a small smile. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy, I would be honoured to be your wife.”

Darcy drew in a sharp breath in silent triumph. no matter how unfortunate the circumstance, he had her consent now, and he knew that she was not indifferent to him. He could take the time he needed to prove to her that he could be trusted in the future without fear of her fleeing him. If her reluctance disappointed him, it did not come as a surprise.

Mr. Gardiner appeared to relax slightly with this resolution, and a little more of his customary good cheer began to appear as he said, “Well, then, that is settled, and I wish you both all the best fortune. Lizzy, I will write to your father tonight, and tell him that I have acted in his stead and given my consent. Mr. Darcy, do you have a preference as to when and how this is announced?”

BOOK: By Force of Instinct
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