Page 34 of Courting Elizabeth

I should have been satisfied with that contact. My desire made my restraint more fragile. I gently turned her hand and pressed my lips to the center of her palm.

Elizabeth drew in her breath.

Her scent, her skin, the slight tremor of her fingers around mine—it all sent an almost unbearable heat coursing through me. I raised my eyes without lifting my lips.

She was watching me.

I saw desire in her dilated pupils.

Not love.

This time, I didn't confuse the two.

I released her hand.

“Sleep well.”

I made it to my room before giving in to the urge to ask her for more.

On the third day, she chose to sit beside me rather than across from me.

Our shoulders touched with every movement of the carriage.

I didn't comment on her choice.

I only noted, with satisfaction, that it had taken her just three days.

Three days to come sit on my side.

I had the rest of my life to make her mine.

Chapter 9

ELIZABETH

I saw Pemberley as we rounded a hill and understood why Fitzwilliam rarely spoke of it.

Some places lose their beauty the moment words try to capture them.

The estate stretched across a wide valley, a river cutting through it that reflected the June sky. The house rose beyond the trees, imposing without ostentation, fashioned from pale stone that the light warmed. Nothing seemed placed to impress a visitor. The landscape had been respected—enhanced rather than conquered.

I looked at my husband.

He was watching my face more intently than he had watched his estate.

“Well?” he asked.

I searched for an answer light enough to hide the emotion that had caught in my throat.

“I am beginning to grasp the gravity of my error.”

His expression closed.

“What error?”

“Judging you before I knew the man of Pemberley. I would have enjoyed the view far more.”

He remained still.