Page 137 of Ashes and Understanding
Elizabeth drew her shawl closer around her shoulders as she climbed the last incline of Oakham Mount. The early December air stung her cheeks and bit at her fingers, despite the thick gloves she wore. Snow crunched beneath her boots, packed and slick in places, and more than once she had to pause to catch her breath.
She used to make this walk with ease. That had been before the fire—before the smoke and ash had left their mark on her lungs.
Still, she pressed on.
When she reached the top, she closed her eyes and turned her face into the wind. The sky stretched wide and pale blue above her, the last hues of dawn still clinging to the eastern horizon. The chill air filled her chest and made her eyes water—and she promptly doubled over in a fit of coughing.
“I could have told you that would happen,” a familiar voice said from behind her, warm with wry affection.
She spun around.
Darcy sat atop his dark gelding, wrapped in a fine wool coat with his collar turned up against the wind. His expression was amused and altogether too handsome for so early in the morning.
“You rode,” she accused, laughing breathlessly. “That is cheating.”
He dismounted with easy grace, boots crunching on the snow as he walked toward her. “Well, if you want me to actually be able to make it to our wedding in a few hours, I had to.” He smiled and reached for her hand. “You would not want me fainting halfway through the vows, would you?”
Elizabeth laughed again. “I suppose I must accept your excuse, weak though it is.”
“Generous as ever,” he murmured.
Before she could reply, he leaned in and kissed her.
Her eyes fluttered closed. The world dropped away—the cold, the snow, the tightness in her chest. All of it vanished under the warmth of his lips. His hands cupped her cheeks, gloved but firm, steady, and the kiss deepened. Her stomach flipped and fluttered, and her hands rose instinctively to grasp the front of his coat.
When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath clouding in the space between them.
“In a few hours,” he said softly, “you will be my wife. And I will kiss you as often as I please.”
Her heart soared.
She slipped her arms around his waist and held him tightly. He wrapped her in his embrace, and she closed her eyes again, breathing in his scent—leather, pine, and the faint trace of cloves. It grounded her. Made her feel safe. As if, for once, everything was exactly as it should be.
They stood there in silence, watching the colors of sunrise fade into full morning, but then a loudcawshattered the moment.
Elizabeth turned toward the sound, where a large black bird glared at them from a snow-laden tree. “I suppose that is our cue,” she sighed. “If I do not return soon, my mother will send out a search party.”
“Georgiana will worry, as well,” Darcy said with a smile. “She was most put out when snow delayed her arrival. I believe she intends to make up for lost time.”
“I am very glad she arrived safely,” Elizabeth said warmly. “And I look forward to being her sister.”
Darcy offered his hand. “Ride back with me?”
Elizabeth tilted her head playfully. “Are you offering from chivalry or because you fear the wrath of Mrs. Bennet?”
“Both,” he said solemnly.
“Then I accept.”
His touch nearly burned her as he put his hands on her waist to lift her onto the horse in front of the saddle. He swung up behind her with ease, then pulled her towards him until she was practically in his lap.
The warmth of him at her back, the pressure of his arm anchoring her, sent a delicious shiver through her. She leaned into him slightly, allowing herself to savor the feeling.
As the horse picked its careful way down the snowy trail, Darcy bent his head to murmur near her ear, his breath warm against her chilled skin.
“Did you sleep well last night, my love?” he asked softly. “No nightmares?”
Elizabeth smiled and tipped her head back slightly against his shoulder. “No,” she said truthfully. “They have been easing. It grows better every day.”
