Page 74 of One Night with Mr. Darcy
“Oh, yes,” she breathed up at him, so fond of him, so pleased to have him like this, here—nothing between them at all, as close as two bodies could get, an intimacy that stole her ability to breathe. “Yes, yes, very much all right. I simply wanted to try to… my most sensitive part isn’t getting quite what it needs to… to…” She didn’t even know what the bursting was quite called.
“Oh, Lizzy, what a cad I am,” he breathed. “Of course I should have seen to you—”
“Well, we shouldn’t even be doing it at all—”
“No, that’s true, but if we’re going to do it, I want you to have your climax, and I won’t have mine until I’m sure that you—”
The door was thrust open.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MR. DARCY’S FIRSTinstinct was to cover her. He needed to shield Elizabeth’s body from view. His body disengaged from hers, and he threw a blanket over her, and he balled up the sheet between his legs, hiding his erection. He was sitting up, though, chest bare and brazen, keeping himself between Elizabeth and whoever might be at the door.
Mr. Collins clutched the door frame, white-faced and sputtering.
Elizabeth sat up, clutching the blankets over her body, looking over Darcy’s shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Collins,” she moaned. “Oh, what are you doing here? What are you doing out of bed?”
Mr. Collins was staring directly at Mr. Darcy’s nudity. He was looking the man up and down and then up again. Finally his gaze met the other man’s. His face was purple now. His features were twisted.
He backed out of the room, leaving the door wide open.
“Christ,” breathed Mr. Darcy, shuddering.
Elizabeth was out of bed, throwing on her clothing. “Oh, blazes, Fitzwilliam, help me.” Her voice trembled.
He did, tightening her stays, fumbling with her buttons.
She was gone, out of the room, leaving him to gather up his own clothes.
From the hallway, he heard voices.
“I was coming to give my condolences for your sister, but I should have… I suppose I can’t blame you. When have I ever been able to do anything for you? This whole marriage, I have been worthless to you. Why, I don’t even bring in an income to support us anymore.” Mr. Collins’s voice was thick, near tears.
Mr. Darcy staggered out into the hallway, shirt and waistcoat undone, cravat in hand. He shrugged into his jacket and worked on buttoning his shirt as he advanced on Elizabeth and her husband.
Elizabeth turned on him. “Perhaps it’s better if you go.”
“I’m not leaving you alone in this,” Darcy said tersely.
Mr. Collins was shaking. “I need laudanum.” He choked. “No, no. The doctor said, if I was ever to get back to myself, I must get off that damned opium.” He eyed Elizabeth. “If I ever have a hope of being a true husband to you, a father to our son, I must.” He looked up at Mr. Darcy. “You, sir, will pack your things and leave. I want you out from under my roof by morning.”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “You can’t send me away from her.”
“She ismywife,” said Mr. Collins.
No, she was not. That woman washis. Every part of her, every inch of her, she—they belonged together.
“I could challenge you to a duel, couldn’t I? Well within my rights,” said Mr. Collins. “I would like to put a bullet in you somewhere, I think. So, by morning, you’ll be gone.”
“You’re… ill,” said Mr. Darcy. “I hardly think—” His mind was racing. A duel, so easy. Dead Mr. Collins, just like that, and Lizzy free to marry him. “But if that was a challenge—”
“No,” said Mr. Collins, shaking his head. “No, dueling is illegal.” His voice wheedled. “I am a man of God, or I once was. I mustn’t be seen shirking the law of the land. But I also cannot have an unfaithful wife.” He turned on Elizabeth.
She flinched.
“Women are a weak vessel,” said Mr. Collins softly. He reached for her. “It is the job of a husband to guide his wife and curtail her sinful nature. If you have sinned, it is my responsibility.”
Elizabeth let out a shaky breath. “Mr. Collins—”
