Chapter 10 #2
She bristled, clearly unsettled but also curious. So like a cat, she was. Wanting to know everything but feeling affronted when he had the upper hand. How delightful.
“That would not be appropriate, Mr. Darcy.” She emphasized his name and he could only tilt his head in response.
“As you wish, my dear. Now are you going to tell me or not?”
She huffed. “I have already told you once tonight not to refer to me so familiarly. And it is not a secret.”
“What is not?”
She exhaled heavily and shook her head, then looked at him again with a rueful smile. “My grandmother. She was French. She died when I was twelve, but until then, she spoke French almost exclusively in our home. We have all been speaking it since we were old enough to talk.”
Darcy’s brows rose. “I did not expect that. How did she meet your grandfather?”
“Grandfather Bennet was searching for his soulmate.” She wandered around the table as she spoke, rolling balls beneath her palm and running her fingers over the felt.
Darcy stood along the wall and watched her with hooded eyes, brandy glass in hand.
“He accepted every invitation that came his way. He went to house parties and balls and soirees. He grew quite tired of searching for a woman who refused to appear and took a break from his search. His cousin had recently been to France and asked my grandfather to meet him at the docks when he arrived. Grandfather agreed, and my grandmother was on the ship. As soon as he saw her, he knew she was the one.”
“Your grandfather sounds like he was a determined man.”
“It is a Bennet trait.”
He laughed. “I’m sure it is.”
She smiled slyly at him. “Why are you flirting so boldly with me, Mr. Darcy?”
“Do you not like it?”
She looked down. “I did not say that.”
He sipped his brandy. “I find that I like flirting with you.”
She looked up at him in surprise.
“I like the way your eyes widen when I shock you.”
She tilted her head.
“And the way you upbraid me with your eyes when you think I am misbehaving. It makes me want to do it again.”
She laughed.
“And I like your laugh. It is magical. Ethereal.”
She flushed.
“And I like your blushes.” He sipped his brandy. “I hope to see many more of them.”
Her eyes were soft now as she watched him across the billiards table. He crossed to her side and she dropped her eyes to the floor. He brushed his knuckles along her cheek.
“So I ask you again, Miss Elizabeth, do you wish me to stop flirting with you?”
She swallowed. “No.”
He smiled warmly at her. “Look at me, Elizabeth.”
She tilted her head up. “You are much taller up close.”
He laughed lightly. “And you are even lovelier than from afar.”
She wanted to say something impertinent, but her mind was blank. Looking at him this closely was too much, so she turned her head to the side. Before she could say anything, she saw something on his arm. She looked at it more closely, leaning forward.
Darcy realized she had just seen his mark and held his arm out for her inspection.
“You have a mark.” Her voice was tremulous.
“Yes. I thought you knew.”
She shook her head. “Miss Bingley said your family does not receive marks.”
“Normally they do not. But nearly seven years ago, one began to appear on my arm.”
She looked up at him and he gave her a crooked smile.
“It itched like the devil.”
Elizabeth smiled. “At least it is only your arm. Mine is nearly my entire back.”
His brows lifted. “Is it? I should like to see that.”
Her face heated. “Perhaps you shall,” she said so quietly he almost did not hear her.
“Do you not want to take a look?” He held his arm out again.
She tentatively touched his sleeve, pushing the fine linen further up over his elbow. There was a tree, a swing hanging from a limb, and a heart carved into the trunk, her initials engraved in it.
She inhaled shakily and swayed on her feet. He placed a hand under her elbow to steady her.
“Are you well?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “Well enough. Merely more surprised than I have ever been.”
“You had not wondered if I was your soulmate before now?”
She looked up at him, then back down, her eyes darting around the room. “I was curious about you, and I found you unusually attractive,” she said to the floor. “I suppose that should have been a clue as I had never thought of any other man in such a way.”
Darcy was inordinately pleased by that statement. “I am glad you have never been attracted to another man.”
She tilted her head back and raised a brow, her humor reasserting itself. “You are going to be impossible now, aren’t you?”
When Darcy grinned at her like that, her stomach twisted itself into a knot.
“If you do not want me to kiss you, stop looking at me like that,” he said, his voice delightfully rough.
“Looking at you like what?” she said with an impertinent smile.
He reached around her waist and pulled her against him.
She slammed into him with a squeak and her hands came to rest on his chest. He was in nothing but his shirt sleeves and an open waistcoat, and she could feel his muscles beneath her palms. She let her hands rove over his chest, exploring, and rested her right hand over his heart.
“Your heart is beating fast,” she said.
“Is yours not?”
She stared up at him, a challenge and an invitation in her eyes. Darcy raised his right hand, moving slowly so she might stop him if she did not wish for him to touch her. His hand came to rest just above her left breast, her heartbeat a nervous flutter beneath his palm.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed.
“Fitzwilliam.”
They stood there for several long moments, hands on one another’s hearts, looking into each other’s eyes. Darcy moved first, sliding his hand up along her shoulder, then behind her neck. He drew her closer, slowly, and she tipped her face up to meet his.
Her breath was sweet and warm, her lips soft and pliant beneath his. Her hands fisted his shirt and held him close, then slowly slid up behind his neck as he pulled her impossibly closer.
He tasted the wine she had been drinking, opened his mouth to drink her down. She clung to him, her body pressed against his, her tongue tentatively darting out to taste him in return.
“You taste like brandy,” she said as he kissed along her jaw.
“You taste like heaven,” he replied. He was kissing her neck now, his arms wrapped so tightly about her that her ribs were in the crooks of his elbows.
She could not move, could barely breathe he held her so closely, but she could not care about that.
What was breathing compared to this? She laughed.
“What is funny?” he asked between kisses.
“I am. I am a ridiculous creature, more ridiculous than I was even at fourteen and I am thoroughly embarrassed at my own thoughts.”
He raised a brow. “Care to share what thoughts have made you so ridiculous?”
She shook her head. “No, sir. I prefer to maintain some dignity in your eyes.”
He looked at her skeptically again. “Are you going to be in the habit of keeping secrets?”
“Perhaps. A lady must maintain some mystery, you know.”
“Hmm.” He held her face in his hands, then, as if he was tasting a very fine wine, he kissed her. Slowly, deeply, until her toes curled and her fingers clung helplessly to his forearms.
“Keep your secrets, my love. I only require your heart.”