Page 33 of Love Drunk for Mr Darcy

He pulled out Elizabeth's chair and waited until she was settled before taking his own place opposite. She smiled at him, a little shyly. "Well. Here we are."

Darcy smiled back. "Here we are."

For the first few minutes they spoke of ordinary things. Elizabeth asked about the dishes placed before her, about the estate and the villages she had glimpsed from the carriage, and Darcy found himself answering with less of the stiffness that had marked their recent conversations. She listened with interest rather than challenge, occasionally asking a question or breaking into laughter. Not the light, practised titter favoured by so many ladies of his acquaintance, but a warm, unguarded laugh that seemed to fill the little room and made him want to keep saying whatever might coax it from her again. It was pleasant and easy and he cherished every moment.

When he mentioned the woods on the eastern side of the estate, Elizabeth looked up with sudden interest. "Is that where the pool is? The one you told me about in the carriage, with the fairies?"

Darcy paused with his glass halfway to his mouth, pleased that she had remembered. "Yes. It lies beyond the beech trees, where the stream drops over the rocks."

"Will you promise to show it to me?"

"I suppose that can be arranged." he said teasingly.

"Then I shall hold you to it," she replied, her eyes sparkling.

She took a bite of syllabub and made a small hum of pleasure, leaving the faintest smear of cream at the corner of her mouth. Darcy’s gaze caught on it as her tongue swept it away, and he lost the thread of what he had been saying. Elizabeth noticed his silence and looked at him with mild curiosity, but mercifully did not ask what had distracted him.

He recovered himself with some difficulty, forcing his attention back to the conversation. By then the candles had burned lower and the servants were beginning to clear the final dishes, but Darcy found himself reluctant for the evening to end. He had enjoyed being able to watch her openly, her face so expressive that he could almost follow her thoughts as they came.

When she finally rose, Darcy stood and came around the table to assist her. She placed her hand in his and he helped her to her feet, but once she was standing neither of them moved away.

Elizabeth was close enough that the soft muslin of her skirt brushed his leg. Her hand remained in his, her fingers resting lightly against his palm, and the room seemed suddenly very quiet without the servants moving around them. One loose curl had slipped forwards again and lay against the warm skin of her neck, catching the low candlelight whenever she breathed. He looked at it for far too long.

Elizabeth's eyes flicked to his face. There was no teasing in them now, just a watchful stillness that made his pulse quicken. Darcy lifted his free hand slowly and caught the curl between his fingers, letting it slide over his knuckles before tucking it back over her shoulder. His fingertips brushed the warm skin just beneath her ear.

She drew in a small breath and he was lost. His hand lingered against her cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of it, and Elizabeth turned her face slightly into his palm. The movement was so slight he might have imagined it, but then her fingers tightened around his and she looked up at him.

Darcy bent towards her slowly. Their mouths met in a kiss so gentle that he scarcely dared move. Elizabeth's lips were soft beneath his and he felt a faint tremor run through her when his thumb moved along her cheek. He kissed her again, lingering this time, and she answered him with a small movement forwards that brought her body against his.

His restraint began to fray. Darcy released her hand and slid his arm around her waist, drawing her nearer. Elizabeth's palms settled against his chest, and he could feel the shape of her beneath the thin muslin. The closeness sent a fresh wave of heat through him.

He kissed her more deeply, his tongue tracing her full lower lip. Elizabeth made a satisfied sound against his mouth and Darcy lost whatever remained of his good sense. His hand moved from her cheek into the soft curls at the back of her neck while the other tightened at her waist. She rose slightly onto her toes and kissed him back with an eagerness that made his head swim.

For one glorious moment there was nothing careful between them. Then Elizabeth's hands flattened against his chest, her whole body stiffening. Darcy stopped immediately, though every part of him protested. She did not step away at once. Instead, she remained there with her forehead resting briefly against his chest, both of them breathing heavily.

"Darcy," she murmured.

Elizabeth drew back enough to look at him, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from his kisses. "This is exactly what I meant."

Darcy's hands remained at her waist. "What is it?"

"I wish us to be friends first. To come to know one another properly. And then we do that and I..." She stopped and looked away, her fingers tightening against his coat. "I cannot think when you kiss me."

Darcy wanted to tell her that thinking was vastly overrated. But he forced himself to loosen his hold. Elizabeth swallowed and stepped back, though her hands remained against his chest. "I am not saying I do not want this. That is the difficulty. I do want it. But everything between us keeps rushing ahead before I have caught up with it. One moment I was furious with you, and the next we were trapped together, and somehow from there I became your wife." Her fingers tightened against his coat. "And when you kiss me, it feels as though we are rushing ahead all over again."

Darcy said nothing, afraid that if he spoke he might say the wrong thing, or lose control and kiss her again.

"I need to know you first," she said more quietly. "I need some part of this to happen slowly."

"Then it shall," he said with much more conviction than he felt.

For a moment Elizabeth only looked at him. She seemed on the verge of saying something more, but instead her hands slipped from his chest and she took another step back. The loss of her warmth was immediate and Darcy had to stop himself from reaching for her again.

"Goodnight, Darcy."

He barely had time to answer before she turned and crossed the room, her steps quick and her face turned away from him. The door closed behind her and Darcy remained beside the table, the ghost of her touch still tingling against his skin.

She wanted him. He had felt it in the way she kissed him, in the way she had pressed herself closer as if any space between them was unbearable. Darcy closed his eyes and dragged a hand over his face. Friendship had been difficult enough when he believed the wanting was entirely his own.