Page 18 of The Briar Bargain (The Rom Com Collection #3)

"Yes," he said sharply, the word emerging with more force than tact dictated. "This is my friend's house, and I will not see his guest hounded from it.”

She glanced behind him, in the direction of the bridge.

“Our bargain, Miss Elizabeth, was that you would accept my assistance when you required it. You cannot expect me to stand silent while you break your word. ”

Her eyes shot back to him. “And you, sir, forget that you are not permitted to scold me until after the danger has passed. You would not wish to be thought dishonourable, surely?”

"Very well. But I would ask that you stay.”

"Stay, and endure? I fear that I have reached the limits of my patience, Mr. Darcy."

"No." The word emerged with quiet intensity, and he found himself taking a step closer, drawn by an impulse he could not fully name. "Stay, and allow me to endure it on your behalf."

Her wariness shifted to confusion and then to something that might have been interest. She had not expected this.

Neither had he.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

This was the moment. He could retreat now, offer some conventional pleasantry and escort her back to the house with nothing changed between them. But would she come? The thought of her leaving, of never seeing again that spark that made her uniquely herself felt . . . impossible.

"Miss Elizabeth," he said, and though he did not step closer, something in his voice seemed to narrow the space between them, creating an intimacy that was perilous to his peace of mind. "Do you consider me a friend?"

It was a safe request, he told himself. He could master himself well enough to be her friend, and nothing more, for the time she remained at Netherfield.

"Friend?" She regarded him warily, as though trying to discern whether this was some elaborate jest at her expense. Finally, she relented. "After what you have done for me, I would like to think so."

The acknowledgement felt like an unexpected gift. "Then let us strike a bargain. "

"Another bargain?" Her head tilted slightly, and he caught a glimpse of the curiosity that was so much a part of her character.

"Yes. If you will return to the house and rest—truly rest, mind you, so that you are in health when we escort you to Longbourn in a few days' time—I will undertake the task of deflecting every slight, every insult, every unkind word they dare to direct your way, at least when we are in company."

She seemed to be taken aback. He watched as she processed his words, saw the moment when comprehension dawned, followed swiftly by something that looked almost like amazement.

"You propose to champion me?" The question emerged with a sort of wondering disbelief that suggested such support was beyond her experience. He put that thought away to mull over another day. “As my friend?”

"If you will allow me."

“Why?” She peered up at him. “I know what I would gain in this bargain, but what would you gain, Mr. Darcy?”

He could not tell her what he would gain, for his feelings were his to manage.

He could not raise her hopes when he did not intend to satisfy them.

“If you were to leave now, Miss Elizabeth, it would be ruinous for Bingley’s reputation in Hertfordshire.

I would gain the satisfaction of protecting my friend.

” The words were safe enough. No one could question his loyalty to Bingley.

But even as Darcy spoke the words, another thought intruded: she was his friend now too.

For a moment, her expression softened, and he glimpsed something vulnerable beneath the facade.

"You are quite right. I should not like to insult Mr. Bingley or cause him difficulty.” She sighed.

“Normally, I might laugh off his sisters’ words.

But I am tired, Mr. Darcy. Not being able to escape their company has worn me down more than I care to admit.

A ten-mile walk through the mud seemed a paradise in comparison. "

The confession made him angry. Miss Elizabeth, who faced the world with such courage and independence, had been reduced to this state by the intentional cruelties of women who were not fit to breathe the same air as her.

"Then let us not grant them their victory," he said, his voice quiet but carrying a firmness that brooked no argument. "You are stronger than their malice."

Something like a spark returned to her eyes at his words, and he felt a surge of satisfaction at having kindled it. This was the Miss Elizabeth he knew. Spirited, defiant, ready to meet the world on her own terms.

"Very well," she said at last, and he detected something that might have been anticipation in her voice. "Perhaps I shall not play their game after all. It would amuse me to watch you stand between me and my tormentors."

His lips curved in the faintest of smiles at his success. "Then we are agreed."

She glanced over her shoulder in the direction she had been walking, then returned her gaze to his. Finally, she inclined her head. "We are."

The walk back to the house was companionable, though their words were few.

Darcy was acutely aware of her presence beside him, the poise she had regained, the occasional measuring glance she cast his way.

He had expected resistance, perhaps even scorn for his presumption, yet she had permitted him to be of service.

In so doing, she had granted him a place in her regard.

He would not take that honour for granted.

As they neared the front steps of Netherfield, her pace slowed, and her shoulders tensed.

"I suppose I must step into the lion's den," she murmured, her voice carrying a rueful acknowledgement of what awaited them within.

"Allow me to accompany you," he said, extending his arm in a gesture that was both courteous and protective .

Her eyes met his as she placed her hand upon his sleeve, and something passed between them. She had accepted his bargain, and he meant to fulfil the terms.

"I find myself wondering how you mean to accomplish such a feat," she said, but there was relief in her voice now, and perhaps a trace of that mischievousness that had first caught his attention.

"You will not be disappointed," he assured her, and was rewarded with a wary smile.