Page 51 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

“She is a very persuasive woman.”

They shared a smile.

“Ah, I forgot,” the young woman said of a sudden and rose to her feet. From her décolletage, she pulled out a handkerchief for him. “I washed it thoroughly. I imagine it is too fine for you to part with.”

He stared at it, soaking in the realization that the cloth had been pressed against her breast. “Keep it.”

“Are you quite sure?”

“My mother enjoyed embroidery. It was one of her favourite pastimes. This particular handkerchief she had made only a pair, but I am not short of handkerchiefs.”

It was not in the rules to assign tokens of one’s stay at Trenwith House, but it gave him some satisfaction to know that she had something of his.

She now stood within arm’s reach of him. He felt he could seduce away whatever reservations he had helped stoke, but he was rendered immobile by the war between desire and mortification. How could this woman not be Miss Elizabeth? He wanted to ask her any number of questions to validate his suspicion but would not appear prying. And yet, it was too fantastical, surely too much a coincidence, that he could make love to the very woman he dwelled upon over all others? Perhaps he already had. He had barely dared to dream of her in that manner before. How had Miss Elizabeth come upon Abby Trenwith?

It was enough to drive him mad.

“Are you certain you wish to continue?” he asked.

“You are uncommonly talkative tonight.”

“Perhaps I was uncommonly taciturn the night before.”

She allowed for that possibility, then decided to answer his question. “I had already embarked upon this path of peril when I agreed to the first lesson. While additional visits may improve opportunities for discovery—”

“Will improve.”

“I see no increase in jeopardy for the time being, as I am already here. I may as well proceed with the lesson. I can review the decision to prolong the education thereafter.”

He groaned silently.

“But I confess—and if I may be forward—that you, sir, appear in some distress. If it would ease your state to delay—”

“No, that is not necessary. I am up to the task.”

The last thing he wanted was the opportunity to be replaced as her instructor or compel her to make another trip. With a shaky breath, he prepared himself.

“Do you recall the safety word?”

“Montreal,” she supplied with confidence.

The tables had turned. The instructor was now more nervous than the student. He took an uncertain step toward her. Perhaps he could put it out of his mind that this was Miss Elizabeth, that Fate could not be so cruel.

Alas, circumstance would not abet him. He touched a tendril of hair that coiled about her collar. Despite the lighting, he recognized the colour.

“No powdered wig tonight,” he commented.

“My evening is limited. I ought return home before my absence becomes noteworthy.”

Then he had no time to waste. For her sake. And because he had a duty to fulfill. But he could only stand before her and regard her as if she were a porcelain doll that would break with too much contact. With much exertion, he finally put his hands upon her shoulders.

She waited patiently, then said, “My feelings are not easily hurt. If I am repulsive to you—”

“No!”

To prove it, he wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her to him. The smell of her, the feel of her body pressed to his, all made his blood heat in an instant. It was his undoing. He lowered his head and captured her mouth.

By God. He was very likely kissing Elizabeth Bennet. The realization that this might be his only occasion to kiss her deepened his embrace a little more forcefully than he intended as he drank in the headiness of her lips. How soft and pliant they were beneath his. How sweet and intoxicating. He took mouthfuls of her, his hunger growing with each bite, the primal urges roaring to life.