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“I shall only be a few minutes more.” She turned and hurried out of the room before he could protest further. I suppose waiting for Elizabeth would be a habit if we were to marry. He swallowed hard. If we were to marry! Darcy rubbed his forehead. What has come over me?

Richard turned to Darcy. “I had no idea Georgiana’s friend was so pretty. I like her. I say this shall be a most interesting trip.”

Showing no compunction whatsoever, Darcy frustrated his cousin when it came time to hand Elizabeth into the carriage by stepping in front of him and claiming her hand for himself. He likened the thrill of their touch to the pleasure he suffered when holding her body next to his on the dance floor.

Her brow crumpled, Elizabeth lightly gripped Darcy’s hand and started up the steps. Looking back at the colonel apologetically, she lost her footing. Gasping, she grabbed hold of Darcy to avoid an embarrassing tumble. Sparks raced throughout his body, nearly taking his breath away, for now she was truly in his arms.

Once she was comfortably inside, the colonel said to Darcy, “I suppose you mean to break with decorum and sit next to her as well.”

“Indeed. My carriage—my rules.”

“Is that how it is?”

The instant Darcy settled in his seat beside her and felt the incidental brush of his thigh against hers, he questioned his sanity in allowing his sister to talk him into bringing Elizabeth to Kent. Even more, he questioned his thinking in strongly hinting to Georgiana’s paid companion that he had no wish to sit next to his cousin all the way to Kent.

Now what am I to do? Richard would no doubt blather on for most of the journey. Darcy was in no mood to talk. Seated next to her like this, breathing her delightful scent of chamomile and lavender, he supposed it would have to be enough.

Enough? Enough for what?

From what little Elizabeth knew of Colonel Fitzwilliam, he was well on his way to topping her list. He was not the epitome of perfection that defined the Adonis-like comportment of his cousin; however, what he lacked in physical beauty, he made up in charisma.

His presence alone increases the prospect of gaiety one-hundred fold.

In person and address, Colonel Fitzwilliam was most truly the gentleman. Unlike his haughty younger cousin, the colonel entered into conversation directly with the ease of a well-bred man and spoke very pleasantly.

His manners would have been much admired in Hertfordshire. Sitting across from her, he talked so agreeably of Kent, of traveling, of new books and music that Elizabeth had never been half so well entertained since arriving in town.

Once they had exhausted every subject suitable to the level of their acquaintance, everyone was quiet. The steady hum of the carriage, the comfort of the luxurious barouche, and the cessation of conversation conspired to lull her into a midday slumber. Elizabeth refused to succumb. The bright sun’s glare bothered Elizabeth and impeded her reading pleasure. Her repeated attempts to pull closed the curtains proved futile.

“Allow me, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. Surprised beyond measure, she stiffened after she returned to her former sitting position and found her head resting on his arm atop the seat back as he leaned forward and drew the shade. Memories of being in his arms, waltzing about the ballroom, flooded her treacherous senses. Would she ever forget the sensations evoked from his hand about her waist? A hint of sandalwood and spice whiffed the air. By the time he returned to his former attitude on his own side of the carriage seat, her heartbeat pounded in her ears. Why does his nearness disturb my equanimity?

“I trust that is more to your liking.”

Elizabeth said nothing, thinking all eyes in the carriage surely must be feasting upon the unfolding spectacle. On the contrary, Mrs. Annesley was dozing, as was the colonel. When had that happened? It is almost like being alone with him. The sparks generated by his gentle caress of her hand when he assisted her into the carriage had not dissipated. Heaven forbid she would have to talk to him. Suddenly, the idea of peering out into the blinding sunlight held infinite appeal.

The manner in which he scrutinises me is positively unnerving. If I do not say something, I shall grow afraid of him. She summoned her courage. “I am sorry to have disturbed your reading.”

He lowered his arm to his side. “It was no trouble. Besides, I needed an excuse for setting my reading aside.”

“Oh, I take it you were not reading for pleasure.”

“Even a pleasurable experience must yield in the wake of more gratifying prospects.”

Elizabeth’s heart banged against her chest. I must not allow him to rattle me like this. “I can imagine few things more gratifying than losing oneself in a good book.”

“I would expect you to say that, what with you having had little opportunity to experience the types of pleasures of which I speak.”

“You mean to intimidate me, Mr. Darcy. I shall not allow it.” Remembering to look anywhere but into his eyes, she cleared her throat. “Pray, what exactly are you reading?”

He rested his arm over the back of the seat once more, and he eased a tiny bit closer. “You are welcome to have a look.” His book rested in his lap, and he conveyed no intention to hand it to her. Elizabeth had little choice but to lean into his embrace.

Her treacherous body stiffened against him. It is too much—being this close to him. Elizabeth closed her eyes long enough to breathe. I must not allow him to think I am afraid of him. As if oblivious of how their intimate seating arrangement might be perceived were their travel companions to waken, she took him up on his challenge and leaned even closer into the cradle of his arm resting along the back of the seat. A flood of sensations settled upon her and blinded her to the words on the pages. Instead, she was drawn to the perfect lines of his richly tailored jacket, the detailed pattern of his waistcoat, and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“Shall I read to you, Miss Elizabeth? It might help to pass the time.”

The sound of his voice and the smooth caress of his warm breath roused her. Elizabeth turned her head slightly. Wonderfully amazing eyes held her silently captured for what seemed an eternity. Her eyes fell to his lips ... his moistened lips. She ran her tongue along her lower lip supposing that it would help soothe her unrest. It did not. She wanted something. Something never yet experienced. Something dangerous.

“Miss Elizabeth?”