Page 45 of The Heir and Spare
Elizabeth knew that she hurt. She knew that breathing was challenging if she breathed too deeply. She knew that if she lifted her head again, the world would swim around her and might go dark. She knew that her head didn’t feel precisely right. But she had never been more content than she felt in Mr. Darcy’s arms. Everything was going to be just fine. How could it be otherwise when he was there?
But her mind kept swimming around thoughts and everything was as muddy as her cave. Was she in a cave? She didn’t completely understand exactly where she was or how they were going to leave. But that was part of her confusion. Nothing worked in order. Didn’t thoughts follow one another? Weren’t they supposed to be in careful order?
Mr. Darcy’s heartbeat pounded against her arm that rested on his chest. Its steady, fast, strong beating kept her brain in some sort of rhythm. Without its steadiness, she worried thoughts would spin round and round and out of control. But the constant sensation steadied her breathing, slowed her thoughts, and eventually led her own heart to beat in tune with his. She closed her eyes.
“Don’t fall asleep.” He shifted his chin on her head.
“I’m so tired. And you’re so nice.” She smiled. “You are better than my pillow. Maybe I shall use you from now on.” She laughed to herself and then groaned. “Ow.”
“Keep talking. I don’t care what you say, in fact I’d quite enjoy if you keep flirting with me.”
“I’m not… Oh my goodness. Mr. Darcy. I’m so sorry. I am not asking… I don’t mean to presume. Oh please.” She felt her face heat. Had she just invited Mr. Darcy to be her pillow, in her bed? She wished to sleep now, for a long time. “I should stop talking. I really should.”
“I’m enjoying this. Come now. What else could I be used for? A pillow is good. But I’m lumpy.”
She began to protest.
“No, I am. Nothing like the soft down of most pillows. At least I hope not.” He laughed. “What else could I do? I could be a door stopper for you.”
“What?”
“Yes, when the door closes too soon and you’re not through? No footman around and there it is, closing before its time. Someone has to take care of that.”
She smiled against his chest. “A door stopper would be nice.”
“What about a handkerchief?”
Her laugh burst out of her in surprise. “No. What a terrible thing for you. They are used for all manner of things.”
“Yes, I see your point. I’d like to be your spare.”
“My spare?”
“Yes, I always carry a spare. And that one would just get to ride along with you wherever you went; close. You could take me out now and again. Sniff me if other odors were unpleasant, dab your face and forehead and…lips.” He chuckled when she gasped. “And then you could place me back close to your heart. I’d like that.”
“You are much more amusing than I ever imagined.”
“I am speaking much more freely than I’ve ever spoken with anyone. Come now. What else could I be?”
She thought for a moment. “You could be my book reader.”
He held her close. “Now that’s a job I would gladly take. But it has to be near a fire, with your feet in my lap, a blanket draped over us both, a tray of delights from Cook, and snow. Outside. A gentle, quiet snow falling.”
Her soft sigh made him warm all over again. “That sounds nice. Yes, that is your most important job.”
“Oh, there could be better ones even than that.”
She couldn’t imagine a single other one.
“Certainly. I could be the man who says good morning.”
She gasped. “Arthur.”
The use of his name on her lips surprised her, but she could think of no other way to express her intimate surprise. “You shouldn’t speak so.”
“We’re in a cave by ourselves. Now is the moment we may speak so.”
She could see the logic in that. But then again, something about that felt dangerous. It wasn’t clear. But something should be worrying her. She knew it, but couldn’t feel it, not with Mr. Darcy saying such things.
