Page 18 of Courting Elizabeth

Mr Darcy briefly closed his eyes.

I laughed.

When he opened them again, he looked at me with such visible warmth that my laughter died. We were surrounded, separated by propriety and several feet of parquet. Yet my body reacted as if he had drawn near.

“Quite the preparation awaits you,” I said.

“I will not retreat.”

He said it softly, for me alone.

I knew he was not speaking of the dinner.

I let the opportunity pass once more.

Chapter 5

DARCY

The engagement taught me that desire could feed on almost nothing.

On a ribbon tied at Elizabeth's waist. On a curl that had escaped near her ear. On the way she slowly removed her gloves after a walk. On a smile she gave me when Mrs Bennet recited Pemberley's exact income for the third time to yet another set of visitors.

I could touch her only rarely, and so each contact acquired an unreasonable importance.

I offered her my hand to help her into the carriage and held her fingers a moment longer than necessary after she had found her balance. I placed a shawl on her shoulders and felt her warmth through the wool. I bowed over her hand beneath her family's watchful eyes, then dreamed at night of the skin hidden by the glove.

She continued to deny me her lips.

Always with a gleam in her eyes that transformed the refusal into a promise rather than a rejection.

I knew she still doubted some of my actions. I thought her body, her smiles, and the frequency with which she sought my company revealed what her pride held back. Her refusal of a kiss seemed born of modesty and propriety, not an absence of feeling.

At least I believed so.

Bingley returned to Netherfield four days after our arrival. He spent the first hour thanking me for my frankness, the second attempting to conceal his impatience, and the third in the Longbourn drawing room looking at Miss Bennet with an expression that confirmed the extent of my error.

Elizabeth said nothing to reproach me in front of him.

That was worse.

On the way back, while Bingley spoke enthusiastically of Miss Bennet's gentleness, I kept seeing the way Elizabeth had observed her sister. Her happiness was evident, but a reserve remained in her gaze when it rested on me.

“I was wrong,” I said abruptly.

Bingley stopped speaking.

“You've already told me that.”

“I had no right to decide for you.”

He considered me for a moment, then smiled.

“I could take advantage of this rare disposition toward humility to make you confess other faults.”

“Don't push your advantage.”

“That sounds more like the Darcy I know.”