Page 7 of Mr. Darcy's Storm of Temptation

He glanced behind them where the Gardiners had stopped to examine an ornamental shrub, Mrs. Gardiner pointing out something to her husband. They were well out of earshot but still visible through gaps in the hedging.

"I want you to know everything," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Every fault, every virtue, every thought. I want no more misunderstandings between us, Elizabeth."

Her name on his lips made her breath catch. "And do you feel I know you now?" His voice had dropped to that intimate register that seemed to resonate in her bones.

"I am beginning to." She glanced up at him. "Though sometimes I think the more I learn, the less I understand."

"What do you not understand?"

How you make me feel. Why my body aches so when you look at me...

"Last night," she said softly. "The things you said..."

"I should not have spoken so freely." His hand lifted as if to touch her, then fell. "I had no right."

"You had every right." The words rushed out. "And I was glad to hear them."

He made a low sound in his throat. They had reached a small overlook with a stone bench, secluded from view. The isolation felt dangerous, charged. Through the hedge opening behind them, she could just make out the Gardiners' forms in the distance, now studying the fountain.

"Miss Elizabeth." Her name emerged rough. "You cannot know what you do to me."

"Tell me." She turned to face him fully, tilting her head back to meet his eyes.

"Every moment in your presence is both heaven and torment." He stepped closer, close enough that she felt his breath on her face. "Because I cannot touch you as I wish to. Because propriety demands distance when every instinct screams for closeness."

He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over her lips.

"Mr. Darcy!" Mr. Gardiner's voice carried from the path below. "I say, Mr. Darcy, what is that magnificent structure across the lake? Is that the original folly?"

They sprang apart, Mr. Darcy's hand dropping to his side as he stepped back to a proper distance. Elizabeth pressed her fingers to her heated cheeks, trying to compose herself.

"It is indeed, Mr. Gardiner," Mr. Darcy called back, his voice admirably steady though she could see his jaw clenched with frustration. "Built in 1743. If you follow the path around, you will have a better view."

They could hear Mr. Gardiner's footsteps approaching on the gravel path, Mrs. Gardiner's lighter tread beside him.

The rest of the afternoon brought different torments. During the pianoforte duet with Georgiana, Mr. Darcy stood behind them to turn pages. Elizabeth could feel his gaze on her hands, her neck. When he leaned forward to turn a page, his breath stirred the curls at her nape, making her fingers stumble on the keys.

"Your hands are so graceful," Georgiana said innocently. "Brother, do you not think Miss Elizabeth has elegant hands?"

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy replied, his voice rough. "Most accomplished."

At dinner, Elizabeth found herself shifting constantly, that persistent ache making her restless. When Mr. Darcy passed her the salt, their fingers brushed, and the contact sent sparks through her entire body.

After Georgiana retired and the Gardiners fell into their own conversation, Mr. Darcy moved closer to Elizabeth by the fireplace.

"You have been restless all day," he observed quietly. "Have I done something to distress you?"

"Not distress," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "But you have affected me. In ways I do not understand."

His pupils widened. "Elizabeth..."

"Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Gardiner called. "You must settle our debate about the new canal proposals."

He went, but his eyes lingered on Elizabeth, dark with promise and frustration.

4

Sleep was impossible.Elizabeth had tried for hours, but her body would not quiet. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mr. Darcy's face as he had almost kissed her in the garden, felt the ghost of his touch on her cheek.