Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation by Abigail Reynolds Page A
Authors: Abigail Reynolds
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her eyes, her hand touched his,
sending a shock all the way down to her toes.
Darcy wrapped her hand in his, then rested
them both on his chest. It felt natural, and far too pleasing. Somehow she kept
her voice from trembling as she bade him goodnight.
His lips pressed lightly against her
forehead. “Sleep well, sweet Lizzy.”
Although she stayed still, in a feigned
sleep, it was at least half an hour before sleep claimed her as she listened to
the steady beat of his heart, still feeling the spot his lips had pressed. But
it was much longer before Darcy joined her in that state.
Chapter 7
The first thing to cross Darcy’s
consciousness was an awareness of the presence of sunlight. Even with his eyes
still closed, he could see it and feel the strangeness of it. He always awoke
before the sun was up. The warmth in his arms was the next thing to register.
He did not need to open his eyes to recognize Elizabeth Bennet. Her arm was
across his chest, and during the night he had apparently captured her leg
between his. Now that was a sensation he intended to enjoy! This was an
excellent way to wake up to a new day.
Except for one thing. If the sun was
shining, then the storm must have ended; and if the storm had ended, he would
have to let Elizabeth go. That was not acceptable. As his arms tightened around
her, he realized from the sound of her breathing she was not asleep.
So she had awakened first, but stayed in
his arms? That shocking thought was enough to make him open his eyes. The room
was more brightly lit than he had ever seen it, and it was silent. No roaring
of the wind, no crackling of the fire. Just Elizabeth in his arms.
She shifted her head as it lay on his
shoulder. “The quiet seems almost eerie, does it not?”
“Who would have thought you would miss the
sound of the wind?” he teased.
“Mmm. Well, I do. It is too quiet.” And
she still made no effort to leave his arms.
No. He was not going to attempt to make
sense of her behavior, and he was most certainly not going to suggest marriage
again. That was how he had landed in trouble yesterday. He should just take the
moment as the gift it was, and not think about the separation which was bound
to follow.
He raised his head enough to see her face.
Her expression was unreadable, but the relaxation of her body against his spoke
of contentment, or perhaps it was something more. His own body was certainly
thinking of things beyond contentment, and was becoming more demanding about it
by the minute, but he did not want to endanger this precious time.
Except for one thing. If he had to say
goodbye forever to Elizabeth Bennet in a very short time, he wanted to kiss her
again first, a kiss which did not end with the image he could not forget of her
pressing her hands over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut to block him out.
No, he wanted a kiss he could remember without pain, that he could replay in
his mind during long, empty nights without her.
He shifted his arm until he could reach
her chin and tip it up with his forefinger. She did not fight him, and her dark
eyes looked steadily into his, her lips slightly parted. There could be no
doubt; she was expecting him to kiss her, neither inviting it nor avoiding it,
just waiting.
That was good enough for him. He tipped
his head towards hers slowly, savoring the anticipation as well as giving her
the chance to pull away, but she did not move until his lips finally touched
hers. Then her hand tightened on his shirt as she met his passion, straining
against him as if she, too, had been longing for this moment.
It did not matter that he was trying to
hold back, trying to limit the intensity of this kiss to avoid the explosion of
passion of the previous night. He could keep the kiss slow, but the power of
tasting her essence made him burn. How easy it would be to drown in her kisses?
He nibbled her lip, exulting in how it made her shiver.
But he had to stop while he still could.
Regretfully he
sending a shock all the way down to her toes.
Darcy wrapped her hand in his, then rested
them both on his chest. It felt natural, and far too pleasing. Somehow she kept
her voice from trembling as she bade him goodnight.
His lips pressed lightly against her
forehead. “Sleep well, sweet Lizzy.”
Although she stayed still, in a feigned
sleep, it was at least half an hour before sleep claimed her as she listened to
the steady beat of his heart, still feeling the spot his lips had pressed. But
it was much longer before Darcy joined her in that state.
Chapter 7
The first thing to cross Darcy’s
consciousness was an awareness of the presence of sunlight. Even with his eyes
still closed, he could see it and feel the strangeness of it. He always awoke
before the sun was up. The warmth in his arms was the next thing to register.
He did not need to open his eyes to recognize Elizabeth Bennet. Her arm was
across his chest, and during the night he had apparently captured her leg
between his. Now that was a sensation he intended to enjoy! This was an
excellent way to wake up to a new day.
Except for one thing. If the sun was
shining, then the storm must have ended; and if the storm had ended, he would
have to let Elizabeth go. That was not acceptable. As his arms tightened around
her, he realized from the sound of her breathing she was not asleep.
So she had awakened first, but stayed in
his arms? That shocking thought was enough to make him open his eyes. The room
was more brightly lit than he had ever seen it, and it was silent. No roaring
of the wind, no crackling of the fire. Just Elizabeth in his arms.
She shifted her head as it lay on his
shoulder. “The quiet seems almost eerie, does it not?”
“Who would have thought you would miss the
sound of the wind?” he teased.
“Mmm. Well, I do. It is too quiet.” And
she still made no effort to leave his arms.
No. He was not going to attempt to make
sense of her behavior, and he was most certainly not going to suggest marriage
again. That was how he had landed in trouble yesterday. He should just take the
moment as the gift it was, and not think about the separation which was bound
to follow.
He raised his head enough to see her face.
Her expression was unreadable, but the relaxation of her body against his spoke
of contentment, or perhaps it was something more. His own body was certainly
thinking of things beyond contentment, and was becoming more demanding about it
by the minute, but he did not want to endanger this precious time.
Except for one thing. If he had to say
goodbye forever to Elizabeth Bennet in a very short time, he wanted to kiss her
again first, a kiss which did not end with the image he could not forget of her
pressing her hands over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut to block him out.
No, he wanted a kiss he could remember without pain, that he could replay in
his mind during long, empty nights without her.
He shifted his arm until he could reach
her chin and tip it up with his forefinger. She did not fight him, and her dark
eyes looked steadily into his, her lips slightly parted. There could be no
doubt; she was expecting him to kiss her, neither inviting it nor avoiding it,
just waiting.
That was good enough for him. He tipped
his head towards hers slowly, savoring the anticipation as well as giving her
the chance to pull away, but she did not move until his lips finally touched
hers. Then her hand tightened on his shirt as she met his passion, straining
against him as if she, too, had been longing for this moment.
It did not matter that he was trying to
hold back, trying to limit the intensity of this kiss to avoid the explosion of
passion of the previous night. He could keep the kiss slow, but the power of
tasting her essence made him burn. How easy it would be to drown in her kisses?
He nibbled her lip, exulting in how it made her shiver.
But he had to stop while he still could.
Regretfully he
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