Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (41 page)

As if reading her thoughts, Darcy
said, “Sadly, this room has not been used in years—not to its full
purpose that is. Family members and friends have amused themselves with casual
dancing upon occasion, but we have not hosted a true ball since before our
mother died.”

“Fitzwilliam and Cousin Richard
taught me how to dance in this room.” Georgiana’s voice lacked the hint of
sadness in her brother’s. “And my brother has promised that after my debut, we
can host a ball!”

“It was a promise extracted under
duress,” he sniffed. Then he winked at Mr. Bennet—Lizzy’s father nodding
his head, presumably agreeing with how pretty young girls connived to get their
way. “However, with a new mistress of Darcy House, I suppose parties and balls
will become a frequent event. God help me.”

Lizzy matched his warm smile, and
for the first time since arriving, he was her William—the man who gazed
at her with love, contentment, mild humor, and longing perpetually hovering
underneath. The man who made her heart race and butterflies dance inside her
belly. Then, just as she felt the knots of her worries loosening, he glanced
away and resumed his businesslike commentary. She was unsure whether to scream
or cry but did neither.

Next on the tour were the main
parlor, or salon, and the dining room. Since they were familiar with these
rooms from the previous night, the examination was quick. Crossing to a far
door in the dining room, Darcy entered a corridor that bisected the foyer but
veered to the left toward a single door. Here he paused, looked at Mr. Bennet,
and announced, “And now the one room I deem is the only one you honestly cared
to visit, sir. The library.”

 Not nearly as large as
Pemberley’s library—as Lizzy teasingly dangled as bait to a
fish—the townhouse’s library was substantial. And it was lined ceiling to
floor with shelves of books. As predicted, Mr. Bennet immediately lost himself
amongst the titles. She chuckled and shared an amused glance with Mr. Darcy.
Again, it was brief, a faint flush touching his cheeks as he diverted his gaze
and waved a hand toward the end of the library nearest the door.

“As you can see, a part of this
room serves as my office. Between work and reading, I tend to pass large
quantities of time here.”

“Large quantities,” Georgiana emphasized
teasingly. “He has been known to fall asleep on the sofa rather than walk the
astronomical distance to his bedchamber. Your presence will save him from a
sore back and twisted neck, Miss Elizabeth.”

It was Lizzy’s turn to flush at the
image Miss Darcy’s innocent, jesting statement conjured. She did have a point,
though, considering the sofa indicated was not anywhere near adequate for a man
well over six feet in height.

Not far from the sofa was an enormous,
solidly constructed desk with drawers on both sides, situated before a window
facing the rear garden. The surface was cluttered with an array of papers and
objects, but oddly organized and neatly arranged. The chair was carved of
Coromandel ebony, the leather seat and arm cushions molded in places from his
body and worn from long use. Additional wooden cases against the wall behind
the chair held some books but primarily objects of an obvious personal nature
to Darcy. Lizzy wanted to examine each one, ask questions so as to learn more
about the man she loved and was soon to marry. Unfortunately, the tension
between them was increasing by the minute.

Leaving the library and Mr. Bennet
behind, the trio aimed for the only wing of the mansion yet to explore. That
was, of course, the private chambers for the master and mistress of the house.
While not exactly an astronomical distance, they were located across the foyer
on the opposite wing from the library. Access was via an archway cleverly
hidden behind the staircase and an immense statue of white marble.

“Archibald Darcy, who purchased
this townhouse and contributed to the design, wanted his quarters on the ground
floor, so as to make use of the garden. Tremendous forethought was given to
accomplish this while remaining private during social engagements. In my
opinion, his solution was remarkably effective.”

Lizzy had to agree. The portal was
completely invisible unless one knew it to be there. Darcy pointed to several
intriguing features as they traversed the short corridor, but his strained
attempts to interject gaiety and normalcy were obvious to Lizzy. She suspected
they were to Georgiana as well, or maybe she did have a valid reason to excuse
herself from the tour. Whatever the case, in a second, Lizzy was alone with Mr.
Darcy, and the situation only grew worse.

Entering the chamber once occupied
by his mother, Darcy walked away from Lizzy to stand ramrod stiff by a
porcelain washbasin sitting atop a gorgeous French commode. Lizzy wandered to
the window and then to the small table by the bed. She pretended to intently
examine the paintings hung on the wall and embroidered pillows on the bed while
he fidgeted and droned on to fill the silence. Lizzy could not concentrate on a
single word, not that he was saying anything of importance. Sadness,
frustration, irritation, and an unrelenting desire to kiss him combined and
roiled inside her chest. Being in a bedroom contributed to her agitation,
especially when abrupt visions of them lying on that bed sprung into her
head—visions that were shockingly lucid considering how mysterious the
act of lovemaking still was to her.

Breathing efficiently was becoming
a serious problem, and her mind refused to focus. Surely this cloudiness
worsened her inattentiveness and was why she stumbled when a curled edge of rug
wrapped around her foot. There was no time to correct her balance, arms flying
forward to break the fall she knew was coming and a squeak of shock passing her
lips. Miraculously, instead of the hard floor, her hands and face made contact
with Darcy’s solid chest, the squeak muffled against pliable brushed wool.

How he had crossed the room so fast
defied logic, not that she gave the matter much consideration. Every thought
spiraled out of her brain except for the awareness of his radiant heat, harsh
breathing, wildly beating heart, and firmly muscled arms steadying her.
Instinctively, she curled her fingers into his waistcoat and breathed in the
musky aroma of his cologne. At the same time, he buried his face into her hair
and inhaled deeply.

“Elizabeth. My Elizabeth.”

The rough murmur was followed by a
series of rapid, frantic kisses to her head, the curved edge of her ear,
jawline to cheek, and finally, blissfully, the mouth she lifted in
anticipation. In a near repeat of last evening’s encounter, they went from
nothing to crazed, unrestrained kissing and caressing in seconds. It was
glorious! Fire surged through her veins, Lizzy feeling desired, loved, and
cherished all at the same time. In those moments, she sensed her heart melding
with his and, in a sudden flash of insight, understood why intimacy with the
man you loved was a uniquely bonding experience. If loving with touch and
shared breath had this impact, the intensity of nakedness and consummation would
surely be life altering.

Then, as abruptly as it had begun,
the rapturous accord was shattered. Darcy released her with a minor shove and
pivoted away, a strangled cry piercing the air as he lunged to the window.
Tottering once again, Lizzy watched him lean into the sill with hands balled
into fists of steel and shoulders heaving with each rough inhale.

“Elizabeth,” he rasped, “you need
to leave this room now! Please!”

Automatically she nodded and
stepped to the door. Hand on the latch, she stopped. She was trembling and out
of breath, as if having run a mile straight. Yet unexpectedly, in the midst of
the chaotic emotion, everything clicked into place. Like a bolt from Heaven,
clarity was restored, and with it came understanding and sympathy. There was also
anger, and it was this she grabbed on to.

Securing the door, she then stormed
to where he stood hunched at the window until inches behind him and snapped,
“No, William, I will
not
leave! Turn around this instant and face me!”

He did immediately, mouth agape and
eyes wide. Lizzy clenched her hands at her waist and let the full fury inside
show on her face and in her voice. “Tell me truthfully, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Am I
to conclude that our mutual love and desire are emotions to be disdained and
ashamed of? Is this contempt and repugnance to continue after we are wed? Or is
it that you honestly reckon you are such an uncontainable beast that you would
hurt the woman you love? Or do you have so little faith in
my
self-control that you assume I would willingly allow you to ravage me like a
bought woman?”

All the blood had drained from his
face.
Good. He needs to be shocked!
Leaning closer and lifting onto her
toes until almost level with his face, she growled, “Answer me!”

“No, Elizabeth”—he
swallowed—“I would never hurt you or—I love you! Please…I have
never wanted anything in all my life as I want you. You…are my life…you must
know that? Surely you know how much—”

Elizabeth interrupted him, forcing
her voice into a controlled level but maintaining her hard glare into his eyes.
“William, listen to me carefully. I do not believe any of the questions I asked
are true of you. What I do believe is that you are afraid to freely express
your emotions. You are wrapped in an inflexible cocoon of discipline and
righteousness, and are terrified that if you loosen one single cord, you will
unravel completely. You love me and desire me, yet resist showing me how much
because you fear I will be disgusted or disappointed if I discover you are not
this towering paragon of virtue and excellence you deem yourself.”

He never once glanced away from her
eyes, clearly hearkening to every word she said and stricken to the core.
Suddenly her anger drained away, leaving her with the clarity, understanding,
and sympathy. A fresh rush of irrepressible love netted all of it together.

Placing both hands about his face
and drawing so close their noses touched, she whispered, “My God, William. Do
you not yet comprehend how deeply I love you? You can be free with me and I
will
always
love you. I trust you with my life, my virtue, my body, and
my heart. You have nothing to fear from me and I fear nothing from you except
for this distance between us. I beg you, do not push me away.”

“Elizabeth,” he moaned, pulling her
into his arms for a crushing embrace. “I am sorry. Unbelievably sorry! You are
absolutely correct. I have feared…all that you said and more. Opening my inner
being is not easy for me. Surrendering to my passionate nature after so long
subduing it is difficult. The lack of control is at odds with the disciplined
man I proclaim to be.”

“There are multiple levels of
control, my love. You can remain a highly disciplined man and still, upon
occasion, surrender to your passionate nature.”

He lifted her chin from where she
rested against his heart. “Can you repeat that?”

“I meant that one can be regulated
and—“

“No. The endearment.”

“My love.” She punctuated it with a
soft kiss on his fingertips.

“That is now the second time you
have spoken an endearment for me. I like hearing it.”

“I shall make a point of it, then.”

This statement she emphasized by
pressing her mouth to his. Darcy unhesitatingly responded but kept the
intensity at a simmering degree. Slowly he released her lips, nibbling several
tiny kisses along her chin before resting his forehead against hers.

“My Elizabeth,” he sighed. “If we
are to enjoy these moments as they are granted us in the weeks ahead, you must
promise to help me remain a gentleman. I have never, in all my years, wanted a
woman…physically…as I want you.”

Lizzy knew she was blushing scarlet
and thus was glad their eyes were closed. “I promise. As for your…confession…if
it is meant to alarm, you have failed. I can only feel joy, and relief, that
this is the case.”

Darcy chuckled, his breath
caressing her cheek and somehow triggering a series of shivers at random spots
on her body. “Thank you for understanding my struggles and my heart.
Now”—he kissed the tip of her nose—“in light of the former, despite
your promise, I am in a bedchamber with you in my arms. Far too tempting for this
fallible human male, no matter how highly disciplined. Nor would it be good for
your reputation to be questioned about our isolation. Come.”

Lacing their fingers together, he
bent and softly brushed a final kiss to her forehead. He then briskly started
for the door. Returning to the library, they found Mr. Bennet steadily weaving
his way deeper into the room, apparently unaware they had ever left. Darcy and
Lizzy shared a private smile, neither pointing out to Mr. Bennet his dismal
failure as a chaperone.

Instead, Lizzy walked directly to
the case behind Darcy’s desk and pointed to a miniature Austrian chateau.

“What is the story behind this?”

Smiling, Darcy casually sat on the
edge of his desk. Beginning with his first trip to visit his Aunt Mary in
Austria, when the tiny chateau was purchased as a souvenir, the afternoon
passed in pleasurable storytelling. Only a few were embellished for greater
effect and all of them were true. Well, nearly all. Lizzy figured out each time
he tried to fabricate an exciting tale.

What was his penance for telling
fibs?

A kiss, of course!

~  *  ~  *  ~

This ends Book One of the Darcy Saga
Prequel Duo. The tale of the Darcy and Bennet betrothal period continues in
Darcy
& Elizabeth: Hope for the Future
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