Page 37 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)
Chapter 37
T he heat of William’s gaze had warmed her since the first moment she had set eyes upon him that afternoon. There was something altogether new in him, and it was not merely the freshness of his face without that pompous moustache. His look lingered, sank into her very pores, and lifted something she had tried with all her might to bury.
The sensation remained with her when she went upstairs to dress, and then flamed hotter when she came down to dinner and beheld the almost feral look of longing in his eye whenever he turned upon her. She fought constantly to deny herself the comfort of hiding her scarlet cheeks with her hands, but it seemed no one else noticed her discomfiture.
William spoke not a word to confirm her hopes or raise suspicion in others—nothing that was not a demure greeting or polite exchange. With everyone else as diverted as they were by the news of the day, it seemed that no one saw her at all.
For the pleasure of the newly engaged couples, the entire party remained together late into the evening. Several times, Mr Darcy caught her eyes, but the earl and Mr Bingley seemed determined to occupy him each time he was left on his own. Perhaps it was out of a misplaced desire to mollify the jilted suitor, but Elizabeth only grew more and more frustrated that they had not been able to exchange a single word since dinner.
At last, the final hour came. The countess excused herself to bed, and out of proper custom, all the ladies were expected to retire with her. The gentlemen would be some while, and Elizabeth, at last, conceded defeat. She would not speak with him this evening, but there would be another day.
She was the last out of the drawing-room, but she glanced once over her shoulder and found him still watching her.
W illiam Collins nearly fainted when Darcy offered to toast his health. The ladies had all withdrawn, and Reginald broke out cigars and brandy for the gentlemen. A silence fell over them all, however, when Darcy made his offer.
“Are you certain I did not offend you, Mr Darcy?” Collins stammered. “I would never wish for that, not against your esteemed self–”
“No, Collins,” he replied, “I am in earnest. I wish you both every happiness.”
“Well…” The young man tugged at his waistcoat and fondled a new watch fob Darcy had not seen before. “Well,” he repeated, “that… that will do.”
The gentlemen retired abnormally late. Darcy stood at the base of the stairs as the others went up, casting a longing gaze up, the way she would have gone. How he ached to speak with her, to ask her if that feeling he saw playing in her eyes was truly for him.
No opportunity this evening, but perhaps tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, for sure, or he would not be able to vouch for his sanity!
For tonight, his body pulsed with anticipation of the following day. The brandy had done nothing to soothe him, and a book would not serve. He itched for something more… more physical , as Elizabeth had once said, and the word sparked off something intoxicating in his mind and body. And so, off to the billiards room he repaired for a round of snooker, alone but for the spectre of a certain chestnut-haired damsel nestled round his heart.
He had dropped six or seven balls on his fourth round of play, his nerves now more ragged than when he had started an hour earlier. It was a risk, approaching her. Even if she received him with joy, not all would be simple. Her status as a soldier’s widow was still murky, and enlisting the support of Richard’s family to court his former wife—however little she truly had been his wife—was a delicate matter. And that did not even address the open disapproval and perhaps even ridicule he would face among his peers for breaking off an engagement of some long standing with a socially elite heiress, only to give himself to a penniless American.
For all that, he would do it a hundred times, and then more. She was worth it, worth every risk and every lost friend, for if any could cross her path and not see why this untamed fawn of a woman had enslaved his heart, then they were a mindless fool not worthy of his trouble.
Still, that resolve did nothing to alleviate the way his blood seemed to skitter and his stomach to flutter. Even his hands were shaking on the billiards stick. He set the end on the floor and leaned against it, twisting the wood with both fists as he tried to bring his body to reason, but then the door cracked behind him.
He turned around. Could it be? He heard a sharp intake of breath, and then the door opened to reveal Elizabeth.
For a moment, they only stood, staring at each other—her lips softly parted, her eyes bright with a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Darcy lowered his stick. “Elizabeth?”
“William…”
His stick clattered to the floor, and his feet found their own will. An instant later, she was in his arms, her mouth already seeking his and her hands cupping the sides of his face. So often, he had imagined what it would be like to caress her, to bare his feelings for her—the only one ever to see all of him. He had envisioned a lavish unveiling, reverent touches, treasuring each gentle breath.
This… this was hunger and need, answered in her lips, pulling and sighing against his own as he clung to her body. This was panting hearts, drawing and enveloping and taking into themselves, yet giving still more than they received.
He nibbled his way down her throat, his tongue tasting the sweetness of her skin as he stroked the fine contours of her body. Her hands worked their way into his hair, under his collar, then she caught his chin and pulled him back for more. Savage, demanding she was—all the strength of her being honed to one centre longing—to make him hers.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed against her cheek. “My own.”
She pressed against him, almost battling his kisses to catch his lips between her teeth, to graze his chin. She was yanking at the knot of his tie now, and when she loosed it, her fingers worked at his top button until she could nip at his throat, the base of his ear.
“Elizabeth… will you…”
“Yes.” She kissed him again, and again. “Yes, by Heaven, yes!” she repeated between caresses.
His hands prowled her curves, exploring and claiming, never slowing or pulling back. They locked under her bottom, and he drew her to his chest, lifting and twirling until he set her on the edge of the billiards table. All the while, she ravished him, never permitting him a breath that was not hers and trapping his body until he pushed against her—until her knees just parted inside her dress, and her thighs pressed against his waist.
She bit gently at his lower lip, exhaled slowly, and lifted her eyes to his. “William, I—”
He stroked back a stray curl from her forehead. “I love you.”
A choked laugh bubbled from her as a tear spilt over her lashes. “You magnificent, impossible man, I love you more.”
Oh, to give in to the primal hunger! It was over—he was hers in every way that mattered. He groaned and crushed his face down to the sweet cleft of her neck and kissed her collar bone. A sigh shattered from her, and she pulled him until he lay her back and leaned over her on the billiards table.
Half his weight bore her down, and her hands at the back of his head restrained him there as he kissed her—softer now, more worshipfully. Little murmurs and whimpers filled the space between them—gasps of pleasure, promises better made without words. She drew in one long breath, closed her eyes, and tipped back her chin, exposing her throat, her form, and all she was.
“Hold me, William. Please, I beg you—hold me and never let go.”
“I will. Forever, Elizabeth, I will.”
E lizabeth tried to remain sober and calm the next morning when she met her sister in the sitting room, just before going down to breakfast. It would not do to speak of it yet—not even to Jane, whose own fresh happiness would eclipse her powers of observation until any flightiness or elation tumbling from Elizabeth would not merit a second thought. That was some comfort because there was still much to work out. She and William had…
Had changed everything.
In a moment, hope had become reality, loneliness was traded for intimacy, and empty longing had been overpowered by appeased desire. Even now, she could still feel the tickle of his lips at her ear, sense the warmth of his hands at her waist and the strength in his body when he had held her close. The searing heat of his kisses—no gentle displays of affection, but possessive, needful caresses that betrayed rather more of his heart than his physical craving.
Yes, that was what she had loved most about her precious minutes alone with him. He yearned for her in every way a man longed for a woman, but he cared for her as his own—while not daring to claim what was not yet his. They had given fully of their hearts, but there yet remained a claim of honour, against which he would not trespass. If it were possible, she loved him even more for that.
Jane was glowing and trying her best to appear modest. “Good morning, Lizzy. Did you sleep well?”
“Not at all,” Elizabeth replied flippantly, before quite realising what she had said.
“Oh, no,” Jane lamented. “Not another nightmare—no, Lizzy, I believe you are teasing me, by the way you are smiling. You were up reading or sneaking off to the billiards room again if you were not sleeping.”
“Yes, you are quite right. My happiness for you was so great that I could think of nothing else, so I went down for an hour.”
Jane shook her head. “One day, Lizzy, you will try to slip down there and be discovered.”
Elizabeth’s only response was a quiet chuckle as she linked arms with her sister. “To breakfast with us.”
Jane stopped her just before they reached the door. “Lizzy, what about Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth looked straight ahead. “What about him?”
“Come, Lizzy, do not play innocent. We were all there when Miss de Bourgh made her announcement. He will be making plans of a different nature now. Have you considered—”
“Yes,” Elizabeth interrupted, looking her sister full in the face. “Yes, I have considered. I mean to act in a manner conducive to my own pleasure. I have lost nearly everyone and everything else dear to me—let me reach for happiness when it is before me.”
Jane drew a hesitant sigh and took Elizabeth’s hand in her own. “I hope it will be as you wish.”
Elizabeth squeezed her sister’s fingers. “Jane, after all, I do not think there is anything left to befall me.”
T he earl nearly burned himself by jerking and almost spilling his steaming cup. “Say what, Darcy?”
“You heard properly. I have already spoken with her, and the matter is settled. I intend to marry Elizabeth as soon as may be.”
Reginald set his cup aside and blinked vaguely for several seconds. “I will not deny that I saw something between you, but I viewed it only as a—a passing complication, at the very worst.”
“‘Worst?’” Darcy repeated.
“Well, come, you cannot seriously mean to present her in Society as your wife. I mean, it was well enough for a soldier, although imprudent as regards fortune, but I can see why he fancied her.”
Darcy bristled. “And I am not permitted the same admiration?”
Reginald rose and began to pace. “She has nothing to recommend her, apart from her rather rustic charm. Oh, I admit it, she is entirely pleasant to be in company with, and quite easy on the eye, once you acquaint yourself with the fact that she is no classic beauty. But she will never hold any credibility in London—”
“I care nothing for that.”
“You will be made a mockery. Worse, you will offend a dozen good families when they see you settled with a woman of no connections. They will take it as an insult, Darcy. And what if the world at large learns that she was Richard’s wife first? You cannot have thought this through.”
“On the contrary, I have thought of nothing else for many months.”
Reginald turned around, his jaw slack in horror. “Months! What did you mean to do? Keep her on the side while Anne—”
“Do not even suggest that!” Darcy joined his cousin on his feet and turned the opposite direction, fisting one hand at his waist. “Like you, I early noted Elizabeth’s attractions. I found her company pleasurable, but I had no intention of breaching propriety—though I will not deny that I was tempted.”
“And what? When you found out about Richard, you saw your chance?”
Darcy set his teeth and turned to face his cousin. “That was not the way of it.”
“It surely sounds like it. Is that why Anne went off in search of greener pastures? I wondered at it, but it makes sense—”
“Anne found what she wanted,” Darcy interrupted. He took a moment to calm himself, then—“You know as well as anyone that our betrothal was more of a last option than a mutual desire. It was not I who ended the engagement, yet I do not see you chastising her for it.”
“Because Anne is not my cousin! Who will be affected but herself? She does not have a younger sister whose chances depend materially upon her own choices. Anne may have ended things, but it is you who will bear the world’s censure for it, particularly if you take up with another so soon. They will think… By thunder, that is it.” He stalked towards Darcy, his fingers curled in a threatening cuff. “You have succumbed. Is she already carrying the heir to Pemberley?”
“Do not be ridiculous.”
“I do not think I am. You have fallen and taken her with you! You admitted yourself you were tempted by her.”
Darcy scoffed. “There is a vast difference between acknowledging the leanings of one’s private inclinations and indulging them. One is merely the awareness of danger, the other transgression.”
“And you, Cousin, have such limited experience with women that I doubt you know where one ends and the other begins! I would wager that in two years, you embraced Anne with far less frequency and passion than you have already done for her replacement.”
“Do not speak of Elizabeth as if she uprooted Anne from her rightful place. That is not how it was. And if I confess to your suspicions, would that not rather confirm that my sentiments are fully aligned with my intentions?”
“What it confirms is that your head is not the master of you at present. Really, Darcy—”
“I have declared my intent, and I shall not back away from it.”
Reginald sighed and gazed at him with a deadpan scowl. “Oh, that I know. If there is one thing I know about you, it is that you are too blasted stubborn to back down, even if it is for your better good. But have you thought of Elizabeth in all this? What will be said of her, how she will be treated? A supplanter, an impostor, and perhaps even a loose woman she will be called. Egad, she has often proclaimed her preference for a simple style of living, but you would make her the mistress of one of the largest estates in all Northern England! And with no allies among this new sphere to support her! Will she truly be content, or have you simply swept her off her feet until she cannot see what you are placing before her?”
“She is not ignorant, Reginald. Moreover, her character is much more akin to my own than I think you understand.”
Reginald paced the room once more, then stopped and turned. “What of Richard?”
Darcy bowed his head and nodded; his eyes low. “You know I mean no disrespect to his memory.”
“Mother will not understand that, and I daresay there will be many who raise their eyebrows at the news.”
“What news? We never told the world that Richard even had a wife.”
Reginald crossed his arms. “And we still do not have a death certificate proclaiming her free to marry again.”
“I am not speaking of carrying her off next week. A few months, perhaps—long enough to see everything done decently.”
The earl cocked a brow. “And you can swear to me that nothing… untoward will arise in that time?”
“Good heavens, Reginald. No one ever made such assumptions when I undertook a long engagement before.”
“Before, you had your head still affixed to your shoulders, but now, I rather think another organ is leading you about.”
Darcy thinned his lips. “My heart—indeed, it is, and for once in my life, I mean to follow it. Have I your blessing?”
Reginald blew out a sigh and ruffled his hand through his hair. “I will not withhold it, but only because I know it would not matter if I did object.”
Darcy grasped his cousin’s hand. “Fair enough.”