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Mr. Darcy kissed Elizabeth on her cheek and eased her off his lap. Then, standing, he commenced tying his cravat. “Would you have me beg?”

“No—no,” Elizabeth said. “Let me help with that,” she offered, seizing either end of his cravat.

“I am more than capable of tying my cravat.”

“I do not doubt your capability in any regard,” Elizabeth replied. “However, I shall not have you accuse me of bringing you here and subjecting you to manual labor.”

Mr. Darcy half-smiled. “You are too generous.”

“I can be,” she teased.

“Prove it—” Mr. Darcy said. “Come—spend the night with me.”

Chapter 6

There was no question that Elizabeth would come. Lying in Mr. Darcy’s arms that night, long after the rest of the household had settled, Elizabeth was precisely where she wanted to be. It amazed her how much she enjoyed being with him.

Even though Jane had gone along at her mother’s insistence, to the point of embarrassment, to invite Elizabeth’s entire family to stay for dinner, and even though Caroline Bingley had been insufferable all night, Elizabeth still thought her evening with Mr. Darcy was worth it.

For reasons Elizabeth dared not to disclose to Jane just yet, she too had prevailed on Jane’s good nature by having Jane invite her to spend the night. How might she go about confiding her reasoning to anyone, even a most beloved sister, that she and Netherfield’s newest houseguest were enjoying a love affair? Not that anyone ought to expect Elizabeth to be chaste—she was a widow, after all. However, there was the inconvenience of Elizabeth’s betrothal. Would her sister Jane understand Elizabeth’s plight?

Elizabeth decided she had to keep her secret from everyone, at least for the time being. Besides, no one should have been surprised Elizabeth remained behind that evening, since Elizabeth was always staying at Netherfield. The more incredible surprise would have been if she had returned to Longbourn with the rest of her family and her ridiculous betrothed, Mr. Collins.

However, a rather unexpected consequence of the evening had been Elizabeth’s growing awareness of the true nature of the man lying next to her. Mr. Darcy was quite a haughty man.

Not that he is not within his right to be, she considered, recounting all she had learned about him. Mr. Collins had not exaggerated when speaking of his being blessed with all the heart of mortal man could desire. Elizabeth heard Caroline Bingley say that Mr. Darcy had more than ten thousand pounds a year before his marriage. Who was to say how wealthy he was in the wake of his late wife’s death, for she had been an heiress in her own right.

Elizabeth recalled almost cringing inside when her mother also heard of Mr. Darcy’s vast wealth and set about singing her two youngest daughters’ praises to the gentleman. She was sure he must deem her family an army of mercenaries. First, Jane had married his wealthy friend. Elizabeth, herself, was marrying the heir of her family’s estate as a means to an end, having nothing to do with affection, and there was Mrs. Bennet, auctioning off her youngest daughters.

Thoughts of what Mr. Darcy must think of her sisters could not help but encroach on Elizabeth’s mind as well, thanks in part to Caroline Bingley and her meddling ways. The annoying fellow houseguest had gone on and on in her effusive praise of Mr. Darcy’s young sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, as though doing so might garner his approbation. She lauded Miss Darcy’s beauty and poise, and her extraordinary musical acumen—implying without actually saying—the younger Bennet daughters were severely wanting in comparison. Not that she needed to what with Mary’s insistence on exhibiting on the pianoforte, unknowingly to most everyone’s displeasure, and Lydia, with her wild animal spirits, flittering about the room from one moment to the next and Kitty traipsing along at her heels.

Elizabeth could have sworn she detected Mr. Darcy rolling his eyes more than a few times throughout the evening. That was to say, when he was not being taciturn and aloof.

He is nothing at all like that when it is just the two of us.

Elizabeth brushed her hand across Mr. Darcy’s chest. What other mysteries have I yet to learn about this man?

Mr. Darcy stirred. He opened his eyes. “Elizabeth,” he whispered.

“Mr. Darcy.”

He coaxed Elizabeth astride his body, letting her know he was completely in her power. “For a moment, I thought I was dreaming.”

“I am here.”

“I want you so badly,” he whispered, poised for a repetition of their lovemaking.

“I am here.”

“Elizabeth, I feel as though I have dreamed of you for years.”

“I feel the same way.”

Their eyes held fixed. It felt so good to be held in his arms, enjoying his tender ministrations. Elizabeth knew what his efforts were leading to, wrapping her legs around him, encouraging him—wanting her fill of him.

She kissed his ear. “You are so amazing,” Elizabeth murmured, brushing her warm breath on his cheek. She felt as though she had been waiting for him all her life, and the wait had been well worth it.

Mr. Darcy made a sound halfway between a moan and a sigh as he began to thrust more ardently.