Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (21 page)

They stopped to rest in a hidden
dell, where a trickling stream formed a tiny pond. Discovered accidentally
while here the previous autumn, it was a tranquil place to catch their breaths,
quench their thirsts, and snack from the wild berry vines and two apple trees
growing near the water. Darcy was unsure who owned this land. There were no
markings, no dwelling places visible, and no signs warning visitors away, so he
did not worry over it. Besides, just beyond this valley parcel was the
extensive meadow that was by far his favorite place in Hertfordshire to run
with Parsifal.

Also discovered last year, the
grassy field was flat and uninhabited, so great speeds could be attained. There
were also a number of conveniently located rocks, cattle stiles, bushes, and
the like that were excellent for jumping. Unlike the land near the secret dell,
he knew who owned the meadow, or at least a portion of it. The property lines
were imprecise, so he was not clear on exactly when the northern pastureland
crossed into Netherfield Park acreage, but the locale was perfect for finishing
the circuit of their vigorous race.

He and Parsifal had ridden over the
meadow a dozen times, never once speculating where the green veldt was in
relation to Longbourn until encountering Elizabeth one morning shortly after
her stay with Jane at Netherfield.

To say he had been stunned to happen
upon her was a massive understatement! Never had it remotely entered his mind,
even knowing how fond she was of walking, that he would meet the woman already
burrowed into his heart and invading his dreams, in ostensibly the middle of
nowhere. One of the prime reasons he had embarked on that particular furious
race was to seek oblivion from the torment of wanting her, when logic told him
she was utterly wrong. Yet there she had been, standing on the rungs of a fence
near a remote copse of willow trees, watching him. Even after he had skidded to
a halt, he had expected it to be a conjured vision sure to disintegrate any
second.

Then she had spoken—“Demons
chasing you, Mr. Darcy, or do you have a death wish?”—startling him
further, but also restoring a modicum of clarity—only the smallest sliver
of clarity, because to this day he could not recall their brief conversation
with accuracy. Parsifal’s name was mentioned, Elizabeth adding to his
amazement, and respect, by knowing the poem by von Eschenbach, where he had
acquired his stallion’s name. Then something ridiculous about reading German
and accomplished women, and a vague impression of his sister’s name in there
somewhere. It truly was a jumble, since all he vividly remembered was wanting,
more than life itself, to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until neither could
breathe. Hell, if being honest, he envisioned far more than simply kissing her!
His dream from the night before had meshed with the living, gloriously beautiful
flesh in front of him, and he could not say how he had maintained any control
over his body. A certain part of his body had painfully resisted his harshest
discipline, a fact best not shared with his betrothed until long after they
married. If at all. How his innocent love would respond to his admission of
such beastly, ungentlemanly thoughts he did not want to know.

How many times after that
embarrassing encounter did he ride by the willow copse and look for Elizabeth
Bennet?

Every. Single. Time.

Glancing at the rise, where the
trees stood near the rickety, wooden fence bordering Longbourn estate, became a
reflexive action he did not consciously register. Until he saw no one there,
and then the sensation of sadness, while swift, was intense.

Today was no exception.

He and Parsifal dashed at their
typical breakneck speed, Darcy enveloped by the incredible fluidic movement of
his mount. The world was a blur yet queerly sharp at the same time. Together,
as if seeing from the same eyes, they distinguished dips in the land, every
rock or moldering log or bush. The deer grazing off to the right were noted, as
were the startled rabbits and squirrels, and the hawk circling something
delicious on the ground. Everything checked and then dismissed unless
recognizable as a hazard to avoid or an object to jump.

Approaching the willow copse, Darcy’s
attention was on the small herd of cattle up ahead, trying to determine which
direction they were going to veer as he and Parsifal rode closer, when his eyes
automatically swept to the left.

For a split second, he wondered if
love truly had bewitched him to the degree where hallucinations of Elizabeth
were invading his waking minutes! After all, the fuzzy figure could be anything
or anyone when seen in a flash peripherally from a distance.

No, it is a person waving at me!

Heart pounding harder than Parsifal’s
hooves striking the turf, Darcy smoothly steered them into a wide, arcing turn.
By the time they reached the fence where Elizabeth stood, her smile brilliant
and eyes shining, Darcy had gotten over his astoundment and was silently
thanking God and the saints in heaven for this wondrous coincidence.

He slowed Parsifal to a trot well
before reaching the fence line. He needed the time to steady his breathing and
master his overloaded faculties.

She was as ravishing as she had
been during their encounter last year. More so, actually, because rather than
appearing annoyed or uncomfortable, as she had then, today she was bursting
with delight. Darcy did not think it possible for his heart to beat faster
without failing utterly. Pleasure was written on her flushed face. She leaned
forward from her precarious perch on the second rung from the top, her chest
rising rapidly with each inhale. The combination revealed, even to his
untrained and dubious eyes, the full scope of her love for him.

The reality hit him square in the
chest. Yes, she had told him of her love. Yes, she had accepted his proposal.
Yes, she had expressed her affection in numerous small gestures. This Elizabeth
Bennet, however, was displaying her ardency blatantly and vehemently.

God! How is it possible to love
someone so fiercely?

He ached from physical desire
beyond what had assaulted him before. Elizabeth was staring at him boldly, her
eyes scanning his body in a frank manner that was as arousing as it was
extraordinary. As much as he thrilled at her appraisal, under the circumstances,
it was vital to shove those fixations firmly aside. Focusing only on the
awareness of her love was heady enough—accepting that she could yearn for
him sexually was dangerous.

Their trot became a sedate walk,
Darcy leading Parsifal directly toward Elizabeth. Without preamble, he leaned
in, cradled her face with his right hand, and kissed her—just a tender
press of closed lips, yet enough to ignite a fire inside his veins.

“Miss Elizabeth, what a delightful
surprise. Come here often, do you?”

Caressing her cheek with gloved
fingertips, Darcy bestowed a second kiss before she could answer. The feel of
her hand pressing his tighter against her cheek and the slight parting of her
lips nearly sent him over the edge. Literally. Maybe Parsifal sensed his master
about to topple out of the saddle, or maybe he was bored of standing still.
Whatever the instigation, his sudden shift and loud snort broke the spell.

Elizabeth jerked backward, and
Darcy grabbed her arm before she tumbled off the fence. “Hold up there!” he
shouted, the exclamation for Elizabeth and Parsifal. Yanking on the reins,
Darcy squeezed his legs around the horse and leaned back while steadying
Elizabeth at the same time, causing an odd dance to ensue. Both laughed at the
absurdity, which only served to increase the shakiness.

Once assured of her stability,
Darcy let go and walked his restless horse in a series of prancing circles. He
was still laughing, but stopped when he saw her face.

“My apologies, Elizabeth. Did
Parsifal frighten you?”

“A little, yes. All my attention
was focused on you”—she flushed and glanced down for a second—“and
I almost forgot you were on a horse. His commentary on the situation took me by
surprise.”

“He is quite opinionated, I fear.
Especially when his purpose has been interrupted.” Darcy pointed to the
wandering cattle when Elizabeth cocked her head in question. “I do believe he
was anticipating scattering the herd when I changed our course. In that case,
his pique is directed at me, not you.”

“Well, I do apologize to Parsifal
for spoiling his fun, although I imagine yonder cows would thank me. I pray my
interruption did not spoil your fun, Mr. Darcy?”

“Indeed not, Miss Elizabeth,” he
teased. “While stampeding cattle is tremendously satisfying, the pleasure of
meeting you transcends. I cannot fathom a better way to end my ride than with
you.”

“What a pity, then, that you are on
that side of the fence. We are doomed to be parted unless I climb over the
fence. I have done it before—”

“Yes, I imagine you have,” Darcy
interjected, laughing.

“If you imagine it, then I suspect
you know what I mean when I say it is not the most ladylike of ventures.”

“Probably not, by some standards. I
tend to think I would enjoy the spectacle, not the least because of the
possibility of seeing a bit of your legs.” He grinned at the rosiness that
infused her face, and loved it even more when she tossed her head and made as
if to climb higher, her expression arch.
Gods but she is a minx!
“Save
your dignity, Elizabeth. My solution to the dilemma is expeditious and does not
involve either of us resorting to improper behavior.”

Wheeling Parsifal about, Darcy left
her with mouth agape and eyes wide. Galloping full tilt a good clip, he whirled
around, and with a shout and added jab with his heels, launched into a barreling
rush straight at the fence. A glimpse at Elizabeth’s pale face, as he and
Parsifal leapt cleanly over the top rung, did send a sharp stab of regret into
his heart. By the time they slowed and came about, exhilaration from their
acrobatic feat and the sheer delight of seeing her standing feet away under the
trees usurped any regret.

Until, that is, he dismounted.

“How could you
do that
without warning me? My heart stopped, I swear it did! You could have hit the
rail or fallen off when he landed! Or what if he decided the fence was too tall
and stopped? Off you would go, flying through the air and—You think this
is funny?”

“Yes—that is, no, of course
not, but, well, you are overreacting, Elizabeth. None of those things were
likely to happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He dropped Parsifal’s reins, the
stallion immediately wandering off to graze without a backward glance, and
crossed to where Elizabeth stood. She was pale and trembling, but she had also
fisted her hands at her hips and glared at him furiously. Her anxiety for his
safety was rather touching, a warm glow spreading through his chest, and he
tried not to grin. Obviously he was not showing an adequate amount of
contrition because her scowl deepened.

Grasping her fists and pulling them
up to his lips, he answered, “I am sure because Parsifal and I have jumped all
sorts of obstacles, including fences, and many were taller than this one. In
fact, we have jumped this fence before, a bit further south. My mistake for not
giving due warning or elucidating my expertise as a horseman. Your concern
warms my heart, but there is no need to fret over my safety on a horse, trust
me.”

“Anyone can have an accident, Mr.
Darcy, and I would prefer it not be my fiancé weeks before our wedding,” she
scolded. “I shan’t argue your skill as a horseman. That is evident even to my
untrained eye. Just try to show a bit of restraint, please? For me?”

“I promise to be cautious. Or at
the least not to frighten with my exploits while you are watching.”

“That is not the same thing, sir!”

“No, I suppose not,” Darcy agreed,
grinning. Then he kissed her forehead. “You really must trust me, Elizabeth. I
can handle Parsifal, and he is my friend so would never do anything foolish to
jeopardize my safety. At the risk of annoying you with my arrogant boasting, if
there is one special talent I possess, it is as a horseman. My grandfather said
it was in my blood.”

He gently steered her to the shade
of the willows, his voice pitched low and soothing. She seemed calmer, no
longer scowled or trembled, and the color was back in her cheeks. Best of all,
her curiosity had been piqued, not that this had been his intention, but better
to talk about Pemberley, even with the painful memories attached, than receive
an additional tongue lashing for his recklessness.

“You have hinted to an unusual
affinity for horses but have never mentioned your grandfather. Was he a skilled
horseman like you?”

A long-ago fallen willow tree
served as a perfect seat, and Darcy joined Elizabeth there as he answered,
speaking slowly. “I can only pray to someday be as skilled as my grandfather
was. Horses were his passion. Of course, Pemberley itself was his passion, but
with thoroughbreds a major aspect of the estate, his focus was there.”

“I did not realize this—about
Pemberley and thoroughbreds, I mean.”

Darcy was startled, his brows
lifting. “Have I never mentioned our horses?”

“No, Mr. Darcy, you have not. In
fact, you are irritatingly vague whenever I ask about your past or Pemberley.”

Darcy heard the edginess underneath
the teasing tone and reached across the two feet separating them to clasp one
of her hands. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. My greatest desire is to know more of you
and your life, and you have expressed the same from me. I do not mean to be
secretive, truly. I confess it is…taxing for me to talk about myself,
especially areas involving my grief. Please be patient.”

“You do not need to tell me
anything you are uncomfortable with, William. We have plenty of time for that.”
She squeezed his hand. “Start with what is easiest. Tell me about your horses.”