Page 66 of One Night with Mr. Darcy
“Richard thinks he would have succumbed to the wounds eventually, but this was quicker. He told the servants he was putting the man out of his misery, ending his pain.”
“Of course.” She nodded. “Well, that’s likely true. And he did… I didn’t make him lose his balance and fall half out the window. That was an accident.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Darcy. “One way or the other, that man was marked for death yesterday. I had gone there to do it.”
“I might have guessed that,” she said. She had condemned it in her head, but then… she had succumbed and pushed the man. Yesterday morning, she would not have understood. Yesterday morning, however, she could not have conceived of such evil. “He wanted killing, I think. I would have sworn, before, that there weren’t utterly worthless people on earth, but he… all he had in him was selfishness and evil to wreak on others.”
“He did,” said Mr. Darcy. “And he was good at hiding it, and making it so others perceived his evil as good. He was insidious. You are never to feel guilty about it, do you understand me?”
She nodded. “I don’t feel guilty at all, truly.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why that is, or if it’s some sign of some evil within me. I feel more guilty about having gone to bed with you that night all those years ago than this. I can hardly make that make sense.”
“No, it is exactly right,” said Mr. Darcy. He put an arm around her. “You’ve had too much on your shoulders, Elizabeth. I wish there was some way I could shoulder the burden for you. I wish…”
“You do,” she said, smiling up at him. “Your being here, waking up with you this morning…”
He smiled back. “Yes, that was lovely. The best morning of my life.”
This went through her like a torrent of sweetness. She sighed, and now her smile had gone silly and adoring.
“Lord, Elizabeth, I want to kiss you,” he breathed. “But I shan’t, not with Willie right there. We can’t put that burden on our own little one.”
“We cannot,” she agreed, still smiling, more moved by how he cared about their son than by his desire for her—well, they were equally dizzying, she supposed. “But I wish you could kiss me.”
He tightened his grip on her. And then he let go, likely realizing that having his arm around her was nearly as bad as kissing her in the end.
She missed his closeness, even if she understood the necessity of his actions.
They walked close, and the butterfly danced around their tiny son’s head, and she felt two warring things at once. The joy of their connection, so intense it seemed to swallow her whole, and then the pain—the dreadful ache—of denying it.
THE NETHERFIELD BALL
MR. DARCY’S HANDSwere traveling up and down the curves of Elizabeth’s waist and back. He skimmed over her, and she felt wondrously small under his enormous hands. She pressed into him, happy and pleased, her body seeming somehow taut and loose all at the same time.
Her head was buzzing, too much drink, and he was gazing into her eyes with a look of sheer intoxication. “Why did we stand up?” she said, giggling. Because they were standing, and—moments ago—they’d been on the couch there, and that was where all of their shed clothing was. She’d like it better there. Standing did not seem an improvement in her opinion.
“We are going to my bed, of course,” he said. “I am not doing this with you on a couch. That’s not the way with a woman like you.”
“Oh,” she said.
“We are getting married. We should wait, actually, shouldn’t we?”
“Oh.” This again. He wasn’t going to marry her, and she knew it. But thinking that reminded her of the enormity of what she was doing here with him. This waswrong. She let out a shaking breath, looking around the room, and now her head pounded.
She should get out of it.
Yes, push him off, make excuses, put on all of her clothing…
Just the thought of getting dressed seemed impossible right then. She sagged into his bare chest.
He pulled her close and kissed her.
Then she lost all sense. His kisses were a sweet maple-sugar whimsy of all that was good in the world. She could not think when he was doing that. She writhed into him, loving the sensation of their bare skin sliding smoothly against each other. Was there anything more wondrous in the wide world?
Maybe it was the absinthe? However, she’d been told it would make her hallucinate, and she couldn’t say that it was doing that. Maybe it was making her lose her head more than regular alcohol would, though?
When they were done kissing, he’d somehow moved her halfway across the room. She wasn’t even sure how.
He lay her very carefully down on his bed, reverent as he splayed her out there on his blankets and pillows.
