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He did not wait for a reply.
The moment his lips touched hers, everything disappeared. It was only the two of them, together, in their own little world. Her hand rested on his chest, connecting him to her. Elizabeth was sure he could hear the pounding of her heart, which was beating wildly.
“I did not come here for this,” she said in between kisses.
“I know,” he whispered. “But since you did come, let us enjoy this moment.”
“I have obligations I must attend.”
“Did you see your sister?”
“I came here from Jane’s apartment.”
“Then what other obligations are there?”
“I have to return to Longbourn.”
* * *
“Stay with me,” he whispered, raising his lips from hers. Darcy pressed his forehead to Elizabeth’s.
What am I doing? Darcy found himself silently questioning.
If the night before had taught him anything, it was that a man should never go so long without being with a woman. He was in danger of losing control. As much as he wanted, even thirsted, for a repetition of their night of shared passion, he was not about to become a slave to his carnal desires.
“I am sorry,” he said, letting her go and stepping back.
“Please, do not be. It was my fault. I should not have come here like this.”
“Not entirely. I took advantage of the moment. Please, forgive me.”
“What is there to forgive?”
Darcy took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. With each moment that passed, he knew his resolve to take things slower would weaken. The thought of tasting her lips again and feeling her body yield against his was achingly tempting. He turned his back to her. “You must never regret coming to me, Elizabeth. I am here for you, always.”
* * *
Darcy’s voice was distant, his back to her. He appeared vulnerable, almost defenseless. Elizabeth wanted to hold him close, to comfort him.
She knew she should leave, but something stronger kept her from doing so. Instead, she walked up behind him, wanting to touch him, daring herself not to touch him. She ached for him. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Mr. Darcy’s waist.
He stood there, silent and still. Torn.
Elizabeth began to explore his body, touching him, lightly at first, then more daringly. She wanted to be close to him, to be his lover, his mistress. Nothing else mattered—not his past, his changeable moods, or anything. She could feel his body trembling.
“Elizabeth,” he said, freeing himself from her embrace and turning to face her. “You have to go.”
Chapter 3
An uneasy feeling accompanied Elizabeth every step of the way on her return to Longbourn. Deciding how she should behave around Mr. Darcy posed quite a conundrum, especially after what had transpired between them. They had shared a lingering parting kiss. Mr. Darcy had assured her his sending her away was not a repudiation of her on his part. He had held her in his arms the same way. He had kissed her lips the same way.
She wanted to attribute her uncertainty to her own imagination, but other concerns were plaguing her. Elizabeth thought she had sorted out how she felt about Mr. Darcy during her early morning walk. As beautiful as their night together had been, it must never happen again.
One look at him in the breakfast room melted every bit of her resolve. She had had a taste of what making love to Mr. Darcy was like, and she could not help wishing for more.
That said, Elizabeth needed to make certain Mr. Darcy understood that her willingness to engage in such relations was contingent on mutual understanding. Neither ought to expect anything lasting from the other.
Elizabeth had chartered her path months ago. She had not decided she would marry William Collins, the heir to the only home she had ever known, owing to an entail to the family’s male line, lightly. Having discovered Collins’s secret did not bode well for her plans to marry him, give birth to a male heir to break the entail, and then have as little as possible to do with its father.
