Darcy’s Duel (The Bennet and Darcy Chronicles: Short Jane Austen Adaptations #2)

Chapter 8

8

T he next day, Fitzwilliam invited her on a walk.

She did not ask questions. But she knew. She knew before she even saw him. Darcy would be there too.

And then—he was there. Standing at the edge of the woods, tall and waiting, hands clasped behind his back, his eyes finding hers at once.

Fitzwilliam lingered nearby, pretending to examine the trees, too far to listen but close enough to serve as their chaperone.

Darcy inclined his head. "Miss Bennet."

She inclined hers. "Mr. Darcy."

A silence stretched between them—heavy, thick with unspoken words. Finally, she spoke. "Colonel Fitzwilliam is watching us."

Darcy’s lips twitched slightly. "As is his duty."

She inhaled slowly. "I received your letter."

His gaze lifted to hers. "And?"

Elizabeth hesitated. Then—softly—"It is as I said, I did not wish for it to end."

Darcy stilled.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

And she did not move away. Her pulse pounded.

She could see the tension in his shoulders, the careful restraint in every movement.

"I would never ask you for more than you can give," he murmured.

She swallowed. "I know."

He paused and then—his voice, lower now. "But if you could give me something—anything?—"

She knew what he was asking. A promise. A possibility. Something that would tell him he was not alone in his feelings.

Her lips parted. She had told herselfshe would never feel anything for this man, that he wasproud, difficult, interfering.

And yet—He had proven himselfthoughtful, intelligent, quietly kind.

She hadseen him bleed. She hadheard the way he had whispered her name when he thought he might die.

She hadread his words, over and over again, until they no longer felt like words but something more. She inhaledshakily. "My feelings…" she started, thenhesitated.

Darcy’sexpression did not change. He waited. Patient.Steady. "I do not understand them," she admitted, voicebarely above a whisper.

Histhroat worked,as though he, too, was struggling for control. "But they have changed," he said carefully.

Elizabeth exhaled slowly. "Yes."

Somethingshiftedin his gaze. Not triumph. Not satisfaction. Somethingdeeper. Something that made herchest feel tight and unsteady. Her pulseroaredin her ears. She felt it in her fingertips, in the cold airbetween them, in the space where they stoodtoo close and yet not close enough.

His hand twitchedat his side. She felt the urgeto reach for it. The thoughtstartled her.

Darcy inhaled sharply. He stepped closer, his chest moving with breaths that almost touched hers. The soft feather of his breath on her skin sent happy tingles through her. His eyes held bits of gold in with the brown, giving the impression of sunlight. Hisgaze lingered on her face and then fell to her lips.

Elizabeth’sbreath hitched. A kiss. She knew they would not. She knewthey could not. But for the first time,she did not fear the thought of it. For the first time,she did not recoil at the idea. For the first time,she wondered, what if— She lifted her chin, staring into his eyes.

"What on earth are you two doing?"

Elizabeth stepped back slowly

Darcyclosed his eyes briefly.

Fitzwilliam stooda few feet away, arms crossed. "I do hope you two are not getting lost," he saidpointedly.

Elizabeth felther entire body flush.

Darcy’s expression was carefully blank.

Fitzwilliam, theinsufferable creature, merely raised a brow and rocked back on his heels. "Well," he said, clearlyenjoying himself far too much, "shall we return before Lady Catherine begins a search party?"

Elizabeth turnedimmediatelyand strode back toward the path.

Darcy followedwithout a word.

But as they walked,she felt the weight of what had just happened pressing down upon her.

Her feet touched the ground, her steps were careful and measured.

But her heart—Her heart wasno longer certain where it belonged.