Page 54 of Tempted (Heart to Heart Collection #2)
Chapter 54
“A jolly good thing I have somewhere else to go, because I think I am fired.”
Elizabeth laughed at Richard’s quip, then sobered. He would be the one to fill her father’s shoes and restore her home at long last. And she would not be going with him. They were walking together, all abreast, with herself in the middle and her hand entwined in William’s, but Richard boldly touched her elbow—a friendly gesture, such as he might have done in the days of their first acquaintance.
“You will come back one day, won’t you?” he asked hopefully. “To see your aunt and uncle, and...”
“And you. Yes.” She glanced at William, taking heart from his open, encouraging look. “One day, I hope.”
“About that Marshal Jamison, I will lodge a complaint. Your uncle, and the sheriff, too, I am sure they would back it, and without Bryson about to support him, we will see the charges against you dropped.”
She stopped walking and pulled her hand from William to lay it on Richard’s shoulder. “But how will you go back? Everyone saw us married, and people around town—“
“Well, it may be scandalous, but annulments and divorce do happen. I would sooner take my chances there than anywhere else,” he replied. “Besides, you said it yourself that Longbourn was the finest ranch in the area with the most valuable water rights and herds. I expect its master will have ample sources of pride and diversion to be able to overlook a bit of old gossip. Especially with Bryson locked away.”
She nodded. “No one will miss him.”
“And, I hope to make a friend of your uncle. I quite liked Mr and Mrs Gardiner.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you, Richard—for everything. You have given me back my life more times than I can count now.”
Richard made a halting, bashful attempt at a smile, and looked like he would say a great deal more, but simply cleared his throat and glanced over at William. “I... well, anyone would have—”
“No one would have,” she interrupted. “You said it once—you are no saint, but to me, you are a guardian angel.”
Elizabeth felt the soft touch of William’s hand, and she looked over to see him acknowledging his cousin with a firm tip of his hat. No words could have done justice to the admiration and gratitude in William’s eyes, and he attempted none.
Richard’s shoulders pulled back a little straighter, his figure drew a little taller, and he nodded. An understanding, a breach mended, a chapter closed. And, by some miracle, both men had remained hers, each in their own way.
“Elizabeth,” William said gently, “I do not like to rush you, but Richard needs to call the police, and it is better if you are not here when they come.”
“Quite right.” The cab was drawing up behind them, the bellboy loading her travelling case, and it was time. She had no more words for him than William had, but an impulse propelled her forward. She flung her arms around Richard’s neck, sniffed out a wavering, “Goodbye,” and then stepped back beside William again.
“Oh, it is not goodbye,” Richard said with a bit of forced cheer. “A couple of matters here to settle, and I will see you off at the Boston pier in two days. You’ll bring Georgiana, won’t you, Darcy?”
“I won’t be able to leave her behind.” William put out his hand. “Two days.”
They hastened into the cab after that and were on a train bound for Boston within half an hour. William spread his arm out for her to recline her head against him, and she draped a hand over his chest—grateful for the private car. How she had missed this! It was more, even, than she had permitted herself to remember. The way his breath would settle in time with her own, the play of his heartbeat, how she could interpret his thoughts without ever needing to ask—having once known this sort of oneness, anything else was artificial and unsatisfactory.
The silence was long and brooding, but eventually, William broke it. “Elizabeth—” He hesitated, his fingers stroking absently over her shoulder. “It... there is nothing wrong with missing him. I would not wish you to think you had to hide your feelings or could not speak of him. ”
She clutched the fabric of his coat, drinking in his familiar scent, and leaned into him a little more. “I know.”
“I hope you will not regret... you had no way of knowing, either one of you. And he is a man of honour. He would never have... nor would you, unless you had every reason to believe... what I mean to say is—”
She raised up and silenced him with a kiss. “I know what you mean. I have nothing to regret, William.”
He blinked, a surprised wince behind his eyes, then he swallowed. “You needn’t tell me.”
“There is nothing to tell.” She cupped the side of his face with a wistful smile. “There was always someone in between, guarding my heart. My only regret, William, is that I ever left your side in the first place.”
Something broke in his expression—a shattered pain, a great tide of anguish finally quelled. His arm tightened around her as he closed his eyes and clamped down on his lips. A long gasping breath rent his chest, as if it were the first he had known in months, and he was blinking rapidly when he pressed a reverent kiss to her forehead. “Never again, my own. I would not care if the king himself tried to claim you—I would be dead before I let another take you from me again.”
They cradled one another, as near as they could possibly be. “William,” she whispered, “what about my family?”
She felt his chest rise in determination. “We will find them, my love.”
Boston
D arcy ripped open the telegram from Bingley and scanned it. “He is in touch with my private investigator,” he reported to the two eager women before him. “No word yet, but they are searching for any arriving passengers who match the description. I have him watching Wickham’s usual haunts as well, but nothing so far.”
“What of the law?” Elizabeth asked. “The police? Are they of no help?”
“Of course, once the investigators have information to give them. Right now, all they have is a vague suggestion of wrongdoing and no notion of the miscreant’s whereabouts. We cannot even be certain that London is his destination.”
“But there must be something else we can do! What of Mr Wickham’s contacts? Did you not find them once? Cannot Mr Bingley seek—”
Darcy sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Bingley is... well, he has not the delicate relationships... I only found them because my family learned generations ago to pay well to hear things. Bingley would not have a point from which to begin. These are dangerous people, my love.”
“All the more reason for haste!” she cried.
“Here, Elizabeth, have some tea,” Georgiana offered. “It will settle your nerves.”
“My nerves are not so fragile as my mothers’, thank you,” Elizabeth answered tartly, but not without a degree of tension in her voice that proved how very frayed and brittle her feelings were over the matter.
“Of course not, but William’s are, and you would not upset him, would you?” Georgiana reasoned. “I am determined to make a proper British lady of you, so take a cup.”
Darcy was pinching the bridge of his nose and fulminating internally over his helplessness, but even he smiled wryly at his sister’s blatant attempts at levity. She had come on an instant’s notice from her classes to see Elizabeth—and to provide a modicum of chaperonage, for Darcy still could not rid himself of a nagging sense of impropriety if he and Elizabeth had to sleep in the same house.
Elizabeth herself had laughed off the notion, saying she had technically been living with an unmarried man for better than two months already. The difference, in his mind, was that unlike Richard, he had no intention of squiring her about while keeping his hands off her. And he certainly did not mean to let her remain unmarried.
He stepped behind her chair and bent to kiss her hair and caress her cheek. “Elizabeth, we will do everything that can be done. I know Wickham well—he will not harm them, because he wants something from me. They are quite safe for now.”
She cupped his hand with her own and leaned her cheek on it. “How can they be safe with that man?”
He tightened his grip and sighed. “If I know him, they still think he is the most charming and gentlemanly man alive. Let us pray things remain so until we find them. I think we ought to speak with your uncle again before we board the ship—perhaps he has heard something new by now. Besides, he will be relieved to hear your voice.”
The telephone conversation with Mr Gardiner was still broken by static and delay, but the man’s delight at hearing his niece rang clear. It was not possible to try to relate all that had taken place in the last months, but Elizabeth was able to assure her uncle that she was well and happy, and also that the town would be gaining a new resident. Mr Gardiner’s growl of satisfaction that Silas Bryson had at last been served a bit of justice was loud enough for even Darcy to hear it.
By happenstance, Mr Gardiner was also able to put his wife and Elizabeth’s sister Mary Lucas on the line. Elizabeth had nearly collapsed against him in heartbroken joy when she heard their voices, and wept openly when she learned that she would soon be an aunt. Unfortunately, no one was able to tell anything of Mrs Bennet or her remaining daughters. Darcy bade his final assurances that he would do everything possible, and they ended the call.
To London, then, they were bound. Only one last thing to do before boarding the ship.
W illiam had been pacing, checking his pocket watch, and muttering under his breath since breakfast. He stopped in the hall, trying to look dignified and patient, and failing, for he could not conceal that he was searching the window leading down the street.
Elizabeth went to him and straightened his tie with a teasing kiss on his dimpled chin. “William,” she soothed, “I am sure we have ample time to make our train.”
“It is not that,” he answered tightly. He looked over her head again, an exasperated sigh escaping him.
“Then are we waiting for someone?”
“You could say—wait!” He waved back the manservant who was standing beside the door, opened, it, and peered outside. “He is here! Come, both of you, we have not a moment to waste.”
Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana, who looked as if she were trying to smother a wicked grin. As she did not appear inclined to answer Elizabeth’s unspoken question, there was nothing to do but follow William out. Elizabeth checked the pin on her hat, pulled on her gloves, and stepped outside.
It was Richard, holding the door of a new motorcar and beaming like a lad with his favourite toy. “What do you think?” he called.
Georgiana squealed and raced down to him, nearly swinging by his neck as she embraced her cousin. Elizabeth came more slowly, meeting his eye more hesitantly. He made a gallant bow. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”
“Richard, where did you get this?” she marvelled. “You cannot take this to Wyoming.”
“Oh, I didn’t buy it. Truth be told, it belonged to… well, it was Bryson’s, and I ended up with it after they impounded his belongings. But don’t hold that against the car—it is a lark to drive, and should fetch a pretty price when I sell it.”
She laughed and accepted his hand up into the rear seat. Georgiana hopped nimbly into the front, and William sat down at Elizabeth’s side. “I thought he was meeting us at the pier,” she whispered.
“He was, but there was something here he did not want to miss.”
She frowned in puzzlement. “But Georgiana was coming to see us off. I do not—”
“Not Georgiana.” He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a small box. “Our wedding.”
“Our...” Her breath caught and stalled in her chest. Her lips formed the words, but she was shaking her head in disbelief. With some struggle, she cleared her throat. “You must be teasing me.”
“Not at all. It turns out that my residence here in Massachusetts is of sufficient duration to qualify us to marry in the state. Moreover, there was no waiting period, and I have no intention of purchasing a second cabin for our voyage to London.”
She huffed a surprised laugh and suddenly noticed that not only was the car still parked, but Richard and Georgiana were half-turned in the front seat, watching them. William opened the box.
“You gave this ring back to me before, and I have kept it close. Will you accept it again? Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me today?”
This time, she did laugh as William tugged valiantly at her glove with a bit of playful incompetence until she took pity on him and removed it. He proudly slid the ring back into its rightful place, kissing it with an air of finality, and then pulling her close for a kiss of a different sort.
“Well, then,” Richard coughed as he turned around. “I think we had best drive off before they get carried away, don’t you, Georgie?”
The ceremony, as it were, was nearly as short as her last “wedding” had been. The justice of the peace requested signatures of their witnesses—Georgiana being just barely old enough to qualify—and a twenty-dollar fee for his services. He indicated a place for them to wait, then when all was ready, he stood.
“By your signatures of consent and in accord with the assembled witnesses, you have indicated your desire to be bound together as husband and wife. Do you solemnly swear to uphold one another in love and honour, forsaking all others, until death do you part?”
William turned slightly towards her and Elizabeth gazed up to him—but just beyond his shoulder, Richard leaned closer. Elizabeth met his eye, only for a moment. He nodded once, his mouth turning up. She looked back to William, and in one breath, they both said, “We do.”
“Then, by the powers vested in me by the state of Massachusetts, I pronounce you husband and wife. Sign here, please.”
And that was it. This time, the marriage was recorded and properly solemnised—for William asked three times to be certain. He captured her hand to lead her back outside, but then he was taken by a puerile urge such as she had never known him to possess. He twirled her about and then swept her up in his arms with a shout of triumph, carrying her laughing down the steps of the courthouse. Once outside, he set her down and kissed her, deeply and scandalously, right on the street for all to see.
“William!” Georgiana hissed. “Good heavens, she has ruined him already.”
“Oh, she has barely begun. You will not even know him when you go back home,” Richard chuckled. “Come, Darcy, leave off. Haven’t you got a ship to board?”
The Atlantic
W illiam had apparently spared no expense on their ticket. Elizabeth never knew that ship-board cabins could be so luxurious, and she marvelled for several minutes in helpless astonishment at the cabin’s many amenities and extravagances. William kept his distance until she turned around with an abashed smile for him. “I suppose the voyage will be comfortable enough. Surely, we did not need such a suite!”
“I beg to differ.” He slowly approached, holding out his hand for her to take. “I was hoping you would approve of it.”
She fingered the edge of his jacket, the rich brocade of his waistcoat. “I think there are few who could not approve.”
“Good, because I mean to keep you in here as much as you will tolerate.”
Elizabeth nodded seriously as her hands crept up his collar. “Do they bring meals directly to the cabins in first-class?”
“Indeed, they do.”
“And—” she was breathing softly on his lower lip now, her arms threaded round his neck— “will it be a fearsome scandal if we never appear on the passenger deck at all?”
An intoxicated gleam had already overtaken his eyes, and his fingers were tracing lightly over her hips. “Tremendous scandal,” he agreed.
“All the more enjoyable,” she whispered against his chin. “William?”
“Mmm?” He tipped his head and was feathering teasing caresses down the fine edge of her ear.
Elizabeth rocked her head back, baring her neck to his advances and exulting in the paralysing shivers and tickles racing over her skin. Her head was twirling, languishing, and breathing became an afterthought. “One thing—will you—”
He diverted his attention to the underside of her jaw, the swell of her pulse, and his hands took full possession of her body. “Anything, my heart.”
“Hold me. Just... hold me...” Her eyes slid closed, a drunken sort of euphoria invited her to rest, to drown in this heaven.
William’s hands slid once more over her hips, and he drew breath, then pulled away. “Of course. You must be tired after everything. Would you prefer to make yourself more comfortable? I will step out and order something.”
Elizabeth permitted him to draw back and then leave the cabin but puzzled over it. But, perhaps it would be better if she changed out of her travelling clothes. By the time he returned, she was waiting for him in a satin dressing gown that had been a gift from Georgiana and brushing her hair out at the vanity. His hard swallow was audible.
“I...” He cleared his throat. “I thought some tea and finger sandwiches?” He proceeded to set the cart before her chair and serve her. Elizabeth watched him tenderly—the way his eye caught the moment her cup was only half-full, the way he gave her all the sandwiches she liked best while he settled for the others. And when her appetite shifted from the meal to other prospects, he was quick to send the cart away.
“Do you wish to rest?” he asked. “The hour does grow late.”
When she hummed and smiled an affirmative, he went to the bed and turned it down for her himself, then carefully arranged the blankets over her stomach. His eyes lingered over her form at each pass, but his restraint was becoming maddening for impatient Elizabeth. She caught his hand as he was about to draw away.
“You promised to hold me.”
His lips parted. “One moment,” he answered huskily.
When he returned, it was with a light kiss to her temple and an arm cast lovingly over her middle. His weight settled beside her, his warmth almost a nourishing comfort for her to lose herself to. He sighed in deepest contentment, pulling her close and nuzzling his chin into her shoulder. Then, he went quiet—a tense, attentive stillness that was anything but peaceful.
“William... are you on top of the blankets instead of under them?”
He lifted his head. “You said you wanted to rest.”
“It was you who said that. I asked for something else.”
“Well... I thought you meant... oh .”
The change that came over him was swift. He tore the blankets out of his way and braced himself above her, his eyes devouring her. Elizabeth arched her foot to tease the side of his calf and watch the flame in him blaze hotter. He eased himself lower, his surrender achingly slow until his lips softly met hers.
“Elizabeth,” he sighed. “My life, my world.”
She sank her fingers into his hair, her other hand claiming his broad back. If he was temptingly gentle, she was fierce, giving him no quarter. She hooked her knee around his leg, tracing with her mouth the mischievous smile that played at his lips. Still, he held himself in check, though his body racked with famished shivers at her touch.
Undaunted, she nudged open the gap of his nightshirt to dip the tip of her tongue into the hollow of his throat, then along his collarbone. He shuddered. “Elizabeth!” he gasped helplessly, then said no more. With a growl, he slid his arms under her and rolled her over on top of him. His hands now free to explore, he indulged himself while she tormented his chest and throat with hungry kisses.
All the earth fell away to the rosy gold of this moment. The ship’s rolling, the cabin’s opulence might have been a sun-kissed meadow, or a long empty beach, or a rocky mountain peak. There was only his breath, his touch, the glorious union of body and soul. Instinct, power, abandon, desire—things of the deep joined in bliss with dizzying light. Her body came alive with the glory of a thousand butterflies, an exultant cry of suspense and laughter and adoration that felt as if it would never cease.
She held his head to her breast as the evening waned, and their hearts spun down to a steady harmony. The ship’s subtle bulk settled into the long, luxurious waves of the summer sea, rocking them away to dreams so sweet, so unbroken, that they only saw each other even when the darkness claimed them both.