19. Darcy
Darcy
After a short walk through the shady forest and along the river, a gap in the trees revealed a brilliant shot of blue.
The water hole, a beautiful big swirl of clear water, was overlooked by a cluster of weeping willows.
I glanced at Lizzy, then at the body of water again.
I was going to see her wet. Her body dripping, the shape of her thighs, her breasts, the curve of her delicious arse.
Christ, I was going to make a total fool of myself.
I’d have to look away most of the time. At least the water was going to be cold—this was England after all—and I could douse myself if I got too wound up.
Emma and Lizzy both cried out in excitement at the sight of the river, scrambling along the path.
They threw off their shoes and socks and, with a happy shriek, took a running leap, doing expert cannonballs into the water.
Knightley waited until they landed and ran after them, leaped even higher, sailed through the air, and hit the water with a thunderous splash.
Lizzy and Emma laughed, and Knightley emerged with a curse.
Lizzy called to Oodles, and he waded right in and furiously paddled in circles with a delighted howl.
I trudged toward them, my heart sinking.
I swam in the lake at home, but I’d known that body of water all my life.
And here I was with people who were basically strangers.
I edged up to the water. Took off my shoes.
Dipped in a toe. Hell. It was freezing, as predicted, even though it was midsummer.
I cautiously waded up to my knees. That might do me.
I didn’t have any way of knowing how deep it was, how strong the flow.
Even though the three of them seemed to be floating around without any concern of being swept swiftly downstream, I held back.
I checked down at Max. He was tongue out, tail wagging, seeming to be keen to go in.
I waded up to my waist and dunked under slowly like I did at home.
Then I played with Max, throwing sticks into the water farther out, but not too far, because I was still worried about the current.
The others yelled and screamed and splashed in the distance.
I realized I was doing exercises with Max as if I were training him to be a water dog.
But I was grateful for being occupied in the river, besides grabbing sneaky looks at a watery Lizzy.
She was kicking around on her back with Oodles too, her play more unstructured than mine. More like a kid, carefree, singing a popular song in a loud, slightly off-key voice.
Max, maybe tired of the discipline game, swam to Oodles. The two dogs set off in large circles around the water hole, seemingly paddling without a purpose, squealing and snuffling with delight. I smiled, imagining what they were communicating to each other.
I swam closer to Lizzy and emerged knee-deep, smoothing my bunched shorts and the sleeves of my wet shirt. I focused on the dogs, not knowing what to say. Most of my conversations were about facts—giving facts or debating facts, as emotions were the enemy of business.
“They’re having…fun,” I finally managed. God, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had fun.
Lizzy went to stand beside me. “They—ah!” She lost her footing, sending her arms flailing.
Without thinking, I reached out, grabbed her around her waist, and pulled her to me. I shuddered at the soft feel of her.
“You okay?” I asked as she lifted her face from where it was flat against my chest.
“Yes,” she said, her hand gripping tighter around my bicep.
“Good,” I murmured.
She was safe from falling now. There was no reason for us to be wrapped around each other, our faces close enough to feel the warmth of her breath, the air between us tugging, electric, and heavy.
“Lizzy, let’s do the rope swing,” Emma called, now climbing onto the riverbank.
Lizzy blinked, then looked over my shoulder. “Coming.”
The moment was quickly broken. Lizzy stepped out of my arms, and I held her elbow as she climbed out of the water.
But seeing her in those wet clothes didn’t help how the thought of touching her again slid through my mind, sudden and dangerous.
I tried not to stare at her lush shape, the way her waist dipped in enticingly, the flare of her feminine hips.
I swallowed hard, got out of the water and sat on the riverbank.
The women ran over to a rope swing I hadn’t noticed wound around a hook in a tree. Lizzy held on to it as Emma climbed onto the stick on one side.
Shit, was that safe? Would that stick hold two people’s weight once Lizzy got on too?
“Five, four, three, two, one,” Lizzy called out as she jumped onto her stick’s side.
“Here we go,” Emma yelled.
The rope swung away from the land, and they screamed. Then, when they dangled over the river’s deeper area, they simultaneously let go.
“Bombs away!” they both yelled, as though they’d done this many times together. They leaped out into the air, arms and legs everywhere, and tumbled down into the water below.
“Warm enough for you?” Lizzy cried out to Emma when they surfaced.
“Tropical!” Emma called back.
There was more yelling about the cold, and then they caught the stick at the end of the rope and swam it back to the little platform by the big willow tree.
After Lizzy and Emma swung a couple of other times together, Knightley had a go with Emma. Somehow, they even managed to squabble midair, before they hit the water.
Knightley went on by himself and did all sorts of twists on the rope and backflips, which drew applause and laughter from the two women.
“You next?” Lizzy leaned over me, dripping.
I looked up at her through streams of sunlight and tried not to focus on the drips coming from her sweet curves.
“Not for me,” I said.
“Oh, c’mon.”
“It looks like something kids do,” I said.
“That’s why it’s fun.” She grinned at me.
“I’m not a child. I’m a terribly dignified man,” I joked in a pompous voice. That didn’t seem like a good excuse, because three grown adults had done it.
She laughed. “You owe me. We spent the day hay baling because of your cooking debacle. C’mon.”
I was debating being totally honest. Then she nudged my arm with her toe. Cute.
“Darrrrcy,” she wheedled. Very cute.
“I don’t know,” I said. “That rope…”
“It’s safe, promise. We’ve been playing on it for years. Done it maybe a million times.”
I gave her a crooked smile. “Oh, a million. That’s different, then. Scientifically safe. My answer, however, is still no.” I was so used to saying no, but the word came out rougher than I’d intended. “Thank you, though. I’ll watch.”
I’d always been the reticent one as a kid, hanging back, watchful, which came across as serious. And since I’d taken over Pemberley, I’d felt the unrelenting responsibility. Caution was a comfortable place for me and what worked as a boss who was expected to be in charge day and night.
But that wasn’t the real reason I hesitated.
She kept waiting and smiling.
Still sitting on the grassy bank, I shifted my weight uncomfortably. I guessed admitting my fault was the only option. “I’ve never done a rope swing before. I don’t know how to do it. I suppose I’m afraid of trying something I don’t know how to do. It makes me feel out of control.”
Right. I’d said it. That wasn’t so bad. I didn’t hate admitting I was afraid of new ventures as much as I’d thought.
I’d have despised telling a boardroom or my staff I was out of my depth.
But showing my weakness to Lizzy felt different.
Maybe because I trusted her not to use the vulnerability against me.
She crouched down next to me and patted my shoulder. “It’s okay to be scared.”
She leaned against me a little, and I liked it. I even liked her knowing this silly fear of mine. Lean on me all you like.
“Why don’t I go on with you? I’ll even hold your hand when we jump off.” She said it excitedly, not goading, nor mocking me for being a spoilsport or cowardly.
But one phrase stuck out—I’ll even hold your hand.
“Okay, but you do have to hold my hand. I will be scared,” I said, rising to my feet. I meant it but offered my vulnerability with a tongue-in-cheek tone. Enough so that I expected her to tease me.
She peered at me with new interest. “I like that. Strength through admission of vulnerability. Occurs around the midpoint in my books.”
A soft, fragile warmth seeped through my chest, a feeling I wasn’t used to. “Always happy to help reinforce a plot point.”
Even though Knightley’s bigger bulk had been supported by the swing, I tested the stick and the rope, pulling at it, twisting it. It felt sturdy, but I was still nervous as she held the swing for me to get on.
I didn’t like that I wasn’t the one protecting her.
“You’re not going to be able to hold me,” I said. “You get on, and I’ll leap on at the last minute.” And now that made me responsible for her safety too.
She looked worried. “If you’re sure. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to browbeat you into doing this.”
“No, seriously, I want to,” I reassured her. “It’ll be fun.”
I didn’t want to leap onto that rope swing and put her at risk.
It wasn’t going to be fucking fun.
Still, I white-knuckled the rope while she stepped onto her side of the stick.
“Five, four, three, two, one,” she sang out.
I leaped on, then wobbled back and forth as the rope swung away from the land.
I clutched the rope even tighter but realized I was leaning too far in her direction.
I lurched back with a cry, but the rope was at the top of its swing.
I had to jump off now. Otherwise, I was going to crash into the riverbank on the way back.
“Bombs away!” Lizzy shouted, grabbing my hand.
I yelled, knowing I couldn’t wait a second more to let go or I’d pull her back. I leaped out into the abyss with her.
My smile was instant. Giddy, even. And when we plunged into the freezing water, I felt free in a way I wasn’t used to. Euphoric.
We breached the surface, still miraculously holding hands. A moment of embarrassment struck, at how cowardly I’d behaved, making a fool of myself.
I glanced at her to find her already looking at me, mouth open in awe, her eyes glittering with glee, not judgment. The air felt bright and high, the leaves on the trees flipped with movement, the water sparkled around us.
Maybe opening up your heart to this person is easier than it appears.