To Conquer Mr. Darcy (11 page)

“I do not wish to offend you, but in order to keep my word, I stand in need of your advice as to what constitutes rushing you, and what does not.”

Elizabeth blushed scarlet. It was a reasonable question, but she could think of no modest way to answer it, nor, even could she answer, could she have produced a consistent response. On some occasions, one of his intent gazes felt like more than she could bear, but at other times, her tolerance was quite different.

Darcy had to admit that she looked exceedingly appealing when she blushed. Recognizing the impossible position in which he had put her, he sought to obtain the needed information without forcing her to state directly which liberties she would accept. Thoughtfully, he took her hand in his as they continued to walk. “I believe that this is not rushing you; am I correct in that assessment?” She nodded. “Nor this?” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, then held it close to his chest, and she nodded again. “How about this?” he asked, placing a series of light kisses in the palm of her hand. She dropped her eyes, but still nodded infinitesimally. “Your pardon, Miss Bennet; I am afraid my question was not clear. Do you mean to say yes, that is rushing you, or yes, that is acceptable?”

“No, that is not too much,” she said quietly, though not without doubts about the accuracy of her answer, given the strength of her reaction.

Tread lightly, now!
he cautioned himself. Stopping, he stepped closer to her and allowed his lips to caress her hair. “Is that too much?” She shook her head, eyes still downcast. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself of the necessity of self-control, Darcy tipped up her chin with one finger and permitted his lips to touch hers for the briefest moment.

She closed her eyes at the moment he kissed her, feeling the impossible sensations of pleasure lance through her, and then reopened them to look up at him. “Sometimes,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes?”

“Sometimes,” she repeated with a smile, then added with an air of impudence, “I never said it would be simple.”

“No, it never is simple, is it? Very well, sometimes then.” He kissed her gently again, but more lingeringly this time, and allowed himself to taste the pleasure of her lips before pulling back. “Too much?”

She looked at him with some hesitancy. “Yes,” she said softly.

He inclined his head. “My apologies, Miss Bennet; I shall attempt to keep that in mind.”

Her hand crept up and touched his cheek. His response to her touch was instantaneous and electrifying. “But please do it again,” she whispered.

He searched her face trying to clarify this contradictory request. There was a look of tenderness in her eyes that had never been there in the past, and he could not resist it. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, and reclaimed her lips, struggling to keep his hunger in check, and as she responded, he drew her gently and slowly into his arms, prepared to release her if she hesitated in any way.

Elizabeth, trembling from the intimacy of hearing him use her name, found her hands stealing up around his neck, and she surrendered into the fullness of his embrace as his lips tantalized hers. But Darcy felt his control begin to slip. Determined not to go beyond the limit she had set, he stepped back. Her hands slid to his chest, where they paused a moment before dropping, only to be caught by his. She smiled at him tentatively, and he tugged on her hand and began to walk once more, knowing all too well what would likely happen if they remained as they were.

A change of subject seemed in order. “I am looking forward to meeting your aunt and uncle. Are they aware of my presence here?”

“Yes, I wrote my aunt and mentioned your interest in making her acquaintance, so she should not be surprised.” She smiled briefly. “I also told her that we were on rather more cordial terms than the last time that you were in Hertfordshire.” She decided against mentioning the friendly conversations that had taken place between her aunt and Mr. Wickham when the Gardiners had visited Longbourn last, but she had also written a warning regarding Wickham’s unreliability, lest Mrs. Gardiner be inclined to hold his information against Darcy.

“She knew something of your past opinions, then?”

“Yes, when they visited last December, Mr. Bingley was still a topic of conversation, and you were often mentioned in conjunction with him,” she prevaricated, since it had been Wickham who most frequently raised Darcy’s name. “But both my aunt and uncle are eminently sensible people, and unlikely to make judgments based on hearsay.”

They continued to talk pleasantly on what became a long ramble, since neither felt an inclination to lose the company of the other. As they finally approached Longbourn, Darcy, unable to help himself, asked, “May I have the privilege of seeing you tomorrow?”

She looked at him with a teasing smile. “I might be able to steal away for an early morning walk, if that would be of interest.”

“You know perfectly well it would be of great interest, madam,” he said, making no attempt to hide his pleasure that she had not only agreed, but had for the first time suggested a way to allow them to be alone.

Looking up, she saw the familiar intent look enter his eyes, and felt an immediate rush of desire for his touch, but their location on an open road prohibited any action. She gave an amused smile as she saw him reaching the same conclusion with a degree of annoyance.

“Tomorrow is a very long time away, Miss Bennet,” he said persuasively.

She gave him an arch look. “I suppose you will say next that no one has taken the time to show you the wildflowers that bloom behind the churchyard wall.”

“Are they very private wildflowers?”

“They never share their secrets with anyone,” she assured him gravely.

“Have I mentioned, Miss Bennet, that wildflowers are a particular passion of mine, and that I hope that they are
very
nearby?”

“I would not want to keep you from one of your particular passions, sir,” she said provocatively. Gesturing down a path by the church, she added, “They are this way, if you would care to see them.”

Afterwards, Darcy would have been hard pressed to recall anything at all of the wildflowers.

Darcy stood in the doorway of the room that had
been Elizabeth’s during her stay at Netherfield, gazing on her sleeping form, covered only by a revealing nightdress. As he watched, she opened her eyes and saw him, an inviting smile growing on her lovely face. He crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her, tracing his finger down her cheek, and then down her neck and further along her body. When his hand reached her breast, he saw her eyes darken with desire, and she reached up her arms to welcome him. Wordlessly he sank into her arms, capturing her lips with a kiss that demonstrated the depth of his need for her. The feeling of her body beneath his sent his desire spiralling out of control, his hands exploring every intimate inch of her as his mouth devoured hers. He pressed his hips against hers as she writhed beneath him and whispered, “Please, William, make me yours.” Without hesitation he pulled away everything that stood between them and poised himself to plunge into her. She raised her hips to meet him, and with a powerful thrust he took her, glorying in the feeling of his possession of her. As she moaned beneath him with each intensely pleasurable stroke, he thought to himself, ‘Mine, she is mine, she is mine…’

Darcy regretfully surfaced from his dream on the morning of his rendezvous with Elizabeth in a haze of arousal and desire. The responsiveness she had shown to his attentions in the last two days had caused an intensification of his dreams, both sleeping and waking, and his imagination had proved remarkably adept at recalling how it felt to kiss her.
Restraint!
he cautioned himself.
You are incredibly fortunate that she seems inclined to give you what you desire—let her do it in her own time!
He dressed with unusual care, whistling all the while, to the bemusement of his manservant, Wilkins. At last satisfied with his appearance, he set off.

Elizabeth, having awoken to the same thoughts and meditations that had at length closed her eyes the previous night, was contemplating the possibility that love was incompatible with a good night’s sleep, a proposition Darcy would have seconded, had he been aware of her opinion. Dreams of a Pemberley that was an even grander and more pretentious version of Rosings were interspersed with confusing sensations of kisses where she felt a longing for something more, but knew not what, leaving her embarrassed by her desires when she finally awoke. She was anxious to see Darcy, yet worried by her wishes and the noticeable softening in her feelings towards him. She reminded herself that it would be difficult to feel unkindly toward a man after the intimacy of crying in his arms, but she could not credit this as responsible for the change.

She felt a certain pleasurable kind of anxiety as she walked out, and wondered how the time with him would go. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a dark form ahead in the grove where they had agreed to meet, and she hurried forward until she could see the look of passionate welcome in his eyes.

Accustomed to subdued greetings from Elizabeth, Darcy experienced a burst of pleasure when she smiled on seeing him. God knew he never had a clue as to what she was thinking of him, but surely this had to be a good sign. Advancing toward her, he took both of her hands in his and pressed a kiss on each one. “Good morning, Miss Bennet.”

“Good morning, Mr. Darcy,” she said, with a hint of her impudent smile.

If you keep looking at me like that, my love, I am going to disgrace myself by trying to make my dreams a reality,
he thought. “Have you a destination in mind for us today?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding. The place she had in mind was secluded, but he seemed to be in a relatively restrained mood, so she thought it would be safe enough. She led him along little-used footpaths to a small wood, which they skirted briefly before following what appeared to be a deer trail between the trees. As Darcy ducked under low-hanging branches, he wondered if she knew what she was about in taking him to such an isolated spot. Part of him believed that she had not given the matter a thought, but another part insisted on hoping that her desires matched his.

She stopped when they came to a small clearing where a stream ran beneath two large willows. He saw her glance at him as if to gauge his reaction, and wondered if this was a test of some sort. Stepping toward the stream, he parted the boughs of one of the willows to discover a sheltered space, and just beyond it, a grassy bank leading down to the water’s edge. Looking back at her, he said, “This is a lovely hideaway. Did you discover it?” He was gratified to see a pleased smile on her face. Evidently his reaction was satisfactory.

“It is my retreat.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” he said softly, noting a look of warmth in her eyes that made his resolutions that much more difficult to keep. In search of a distraction, he noticed the ribbons of her bonnet blowing gently in the wind. Almost without thought he reached over to her and untied them, noticing that she lifted her chin to permit his action. He raised his hands to her temples and gently removed the bonnet. He noted that her hair was looped up in a simpler style than usual. Presumably she had left Longbourn before the servants were available to style it. His fingers itched to discover what it would take to make it come down. Tracing a line down her cheek with his fingers, he was delightfully startled when she turned her face into his hand and kissed it lightly.

Elizabeth found the silence mesmerizing as he looked at her intently, apparently waiting to see what she would do next.
How could the simple act of removing my bonnet move me so?
she asked herself. Already she had exposed more of herself than made her comfortable by bringing him to a place so special to her, and her present reaction to him only increased her uncomfortable sense of vulnerability. Not trusting herself to speak, she took his hand and led him to the bank of the stream. When she came to the edge where there was a bit of a scramble to reach the water, he held her back while he went ahead, and then lifted her down.

She laughed as she looked up at him, his hands still resting on her waist. “Mr. Darcy, I have managed to do this on my own for many years!”

“Are you trying to deprive me of excuses to hold you?”

With a playful look, she freed herself, and, with the ease of long practice, held up her skirts and began to cross the shallow stream, stepping gingerly from rock to rock. Part way across, she reached down and ran her fingers through the cool water, then, with an impudent smile, flicked her fingers to send a spray of droplets in his direction. At the look of feigned outrage on his face, she continued her journey at a more rapid pace as he set off in pursuit of her, his long legs giving him an advantage outweighing her greater knowledge of the route. Just before she reached the opposite bank, he caught her hand, causing her to reel precariously to keep her balance.

“I believe that I have you at a disadvantage, Miss Bennet,” he said mischievously.

“How so, sir?”

“Why, in that my boots are higher than the water is deep, whereas yours are not,” he said, with a challenge in his eye. Elizabeth, unable to resist, pulled sharply at his hand, causing him to stumble into the water. He continued, “See, I am completely protected. You, on the other hand, have placed yourself at grave risk.”

Laughing, she tried to pull her hand away, but with a firm tug, he caused her to overbalance, then swept her up in his arms before she could fall. “And now, Miss Bennet, I have you at my mercy, since if you try to escape from me, you will certainly end up wet.”

Elizabeth, already feeling completely at his mercy owing to the overwhelming flood of sensation from the way he was holding her, said archly, “And what do you intend to do with me, then, Mr. Darcy?”

He bent his head to trace kisses along her neck, so conveniently available to him in this position, and caressed her leg with the fingers of his hand supporting her knees, causing exquisite feelings of pleasure to run through her. “I am certain that I can think of something,” he murmured as he moved his mouth to capture hers.

“And what will happen if I refuse to cooperate in your nefarious schemes?” she retorted between breathtaking kisses.

“Then it is into the water with you,” he said, making as if to toss her. She shrieked and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“You would not dare!”

“Actually, Miss Bennet,” he said, finding her close embrace to be vastly appealing, “I think that you would look remarkably fetching when wet. Of course, then I would feel obliged to find some way to keep you warm so you would not take a chill, and naturally it would take some time for your clothes to dry, but I am certain that I could think of some way to pass the time…”

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth exclaimed, her cheeks scarlet at his forwardness, but he resumed kissing her with an ardor that left her with no desire to resist him.

“In fact,” he murmured roguishly, “I find the idea so appealing that perhaps I should seek out deeper water to allow greater efficiency.” He started to walk upstream.

“No!” she cried. “I surrender, I surrender!”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken,” he said, kissing her enticingly. “Now, since you are my prisoner, I believe that it is my right to demand a ransom before setting you free.”

Elizabeth’s breath caught at the idea of what he might request, even in jest. “What did you have in mind, sir?” she said, pleased that her voice did not tremble.

Thoughtfully, he allowed his eyes to sweep slowly over her from head to foot, his possessive, examining look sending tingling sensations of excitement throughout her body, then met her eyes with a slight smile on his face. “I demand that you let your hair down,” he told her, a rakish smile playing across his face.

He had chosen well, he thought. It was an intimate request, and it would fulfill one of his favorite fantasies, yet was not overly compromising. He watched the reaction flow across her face until she returned his gaze with a challenging one of her own. “Done, sir,” she said. “Now pray return me safely to dry land.”

“At your service,” he said, fulfilling her request. She immediately scrambled up the bank, and sat in the soft grass at the top. He did not remove his eyes from her for a moment, and when she paused, he added, “I am waiting, Miss Bennet.”

With a look that expressed a certain air of challenge, she reached her hands back and slowly removed several pins from her hair, aware of his fixed gaze through every inch of her body. She shook her head several times, causing a cascade of unruly dark curls to tumble down her back.

He caught his breath at the captivating sight.
Surely she would never have done that if she did not intend to accept me
, he thought with a rush of pleasure. The combination of the intimacy of her appearance and her provocative gaze stimulated a sense of unreality that allowed him more control over his reaction than he might have expected, but he would have to guard his behavior to retain her trust.

“Well, sir?” she said with a teasing defiance.

“
Very
satisfactory, Miss Bennet,” he replied. He could be happy indefinitely just looking at her.

“Do you plan to stay down there all day?” she asked.

“Your wish is my command,” he said, climbing the bank to sit by her side. He admired the sight of her hair blowing in the breeze, and longed to run his hands through its enticing richness, but if he began to touch her now, the likelihood was that he would not be able to find the strength of will to stop. He leaned back on his elbows, thus keeping his hands out of harm’s way.

“You are suddenly very quiet, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

He gave her a look that assured her of the content of his thoughts. “Sometimes, Miss Bennet, it is best to admire without comment.”

His reaction had surprised her; she had hardly expected after his earlier forwardness that he would suddenly revert to being the perfect gentleman, and it left her feeling somehow frustrated that he could stimulate such feelings of abandon in her, and then withdraw. She gave him an unconsciously seductive glance, and noted with satisfaction his heightened color. “I hope I have not done anything to offend you.”

“Hardly, Miss Bennet; you are merely testing my self-control, and I believe it wisest to keep my hands to myself at the moment, lest I succumb to overwhelming temptation.” He glanced at her, noting that her amused look verged on repressed laughter. “Are you so heartless as to laugh at my predicament, Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, indeed; why should I not? After all, if I am both ‘heartless’ and an ‘overwhelming temptation,’ you have no one to blame but yourself for starting it,” she teased. Her laughter served to break the tension, and he reached to take her hand. “Oh, no, sir, you must keep your hands to yourself!” she said sportively.

Willing to play her game, he placed his hands on the ground, and leaned over to kiss her, but at the last moment she pulled away. “I refuse to be a temptation, Mr. Darcy!” She looked at him expectantly, wondering how he would respond to her teasing refusals.

“Let me see, then,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes mischievous. “No hands, no kisses; what does that leave me?” Before she could protest, he shifted his position to allow him to rest his head in her lap. He smiled up at her engagingly, causing a delightful ripple of laughter from her. She found this playful, relaxed and flirtatious Darcy quite appealing, if difficult to fit together with the proper and reserved public man. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, then smoothed it away from his face. He closed his eyes in order to better enjoy her ministrations. He looked younger and somehow more vulnerable, and she felt a rush of affection for him.

She held back a sigh, thinking how very confusing her feelings about him were. Which was the real Darcy—was it the man with the perpetually serious mien, or the one who delighted in verbal jousting? Proud and reserved, or shy? Always careful, never violating the proprieties, or lighthearted and forward? Sometimes it seemed that the only thing she could be certain of was what he wanted from her, and sometimes even that seemed to shift. She wondered if he would be content with her eventual acceptance, or whether he would continue to demand more and more of her private self. At times like this, it seemed that all he needed was someone to care about him for himself, not for what he could offer in terms of support or protection. Apart from his cousin, she could think of no one who treated him with affection and as an equal. He had been taking care of other people for so long. Who did he turn to when
he
needed support? He seemed so independent, needing nothing and no one—
except you,
a voice inside her said.