25. Lizzy
Lizzy
Jane was finishing her packing, and I was writing a scene in our bedroom. Finally, I was getting down some good words, freer and deeper and different from how I’d written this year.
How I felt last night with Darcy, all the emotions, had set my brain on fire.
Darcy dancing me into the library, feeling the warmth of his body, and that excruciating tension of not knowing how he felt.
Then in the library, how my breath had caught, the way his lips had parted, how my pulse had kicked up at the press of his hand.
And before the kiss, those extreme vibrations between us.
Then the sudden stillness as he’d stared at my lips.
My words flowed, inspired by our sparking chemistry.
A firm knock sounded on my bedroom door. Was it…?
I rushed over from my laptop and opened the door with a burst, my hair bouncing around my neck. Darcy filled the doorway. I felt my face blush with heat at him standing there, mixed up with what I’d been writing about.
“Could we speak downstairs?” he asked, touching my wrist. “Before we leave?”
“Yes, okay,” I said, ducking my head, suddenly shy.
He took my hand and led me downstairs, out across the driveway and to a group of oaks. We were hidden from the house.
He gave me a crooked smile. “Hello again.”
He wasn’t touching me, but every inch of me seemed to lean toward him, thrumming with possibility.
“Hello,” I said.
“I know you’re seeking inspiration for your next book, so I should suggest we try something new. But…”
God, he was gorgeous when he was playful like this. “But?”
He inched closer. “As a reader, I’d like to recreate that first kiss the couple had in your book, to ensure it feels as good as it read. How do you feel about that?”
My attention dropped to his full mouth, and the air between us felt charged. “That might be a good experiment,” I murmured.
A rasping growl sounded from him at my answer, sending a shiver through me. “As I understand, I’m supposed to lean over you, close enough that you feel a charge between us, an inexplicable pull toward me.”
I laughed with recognition, my amusement cutting through the tension. “That is almost exactly what I wrote.”
The way the words had flowed so easily this morning.
That inspiration had been from him, how I felt about him.
He was inspiring me creatively, not because he was incredibly hot and handsome, blue eyes steady with intent, shoulders that filled the space he was in, but because he wanted me, he saw me.
The truth hit me low and sharp in my chest.
Darcy meant something to me.
“See? I am taking notice,” he said. “But do you feel that inexplicable pull?”
That unsettling emotional jolt of how I felt about him scattered my thoughts. “I-I’m not certain. How does it go again?”
His eyes flashed a storm-tossed ocean blue. My reply only seemed to interest him more. “I tip up your chin with my finger, so our eyes meet. Dark blue on brown. Not green, because that’s a trick of the light.”
He did that. His finger under my chin was soft, and his eyes when I met them were darkening and serious.
“Is that right?” he asked.
My breath fluttered. “Yes, that’s right.”
“You feeling that pull yet?” The catch in his voice signaled a high-stakes intensity to his question.
“I might be… Let’s keep going because I need to be sure.”
“The hero in your book, Ashford, says, I want to kiss you. And then Clara says…?”
I tilted my face to him, feeling everything my main character Clara felt on the page. “Yes.”
Darcy grunted. “Then Ashford lowered his head to her, cupping the back of her head, and…”
His lips gently brushed mine, and my eyes slipped closed.
He swept his lips over mine again, and even though it was a small movement, I went light-headed.
With a growl in the back of his throat, he slanted his mouth, so we fit.
Time slowed, and my knees softened. Then, as though unraveling, he pressed harder, deeper.
His kiss turned ragged, forceful, and his fingers scraped through my hair and along my scalp.
I pressed closer to him, my hands dragging through his soft, short hair.
He lifted his lips from mine, his breathing short and heavy. “Lizzy, I know we only met two days ago, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
“Sorry I had a different impression!” Jane’s voice intruded between us, making us jump apart.
A scuff of gravel drew my attention, and I turned.
Jane strode toward us, head down, carrying her overnight bag. She was in tears. God, what had happened? I leaped from behind the grove of trees, Darcy following.
I held out my arms to her. “What’s going on, Jane?”
Instead of falling into my arms, she skirted around me. Like she was avoiding me. What on earth? I put a panicked hand on her shoulder to stop her.
She turned to me, her cheeks streaked with tears, flushed so high it seemed like a fever. “It’s William. He says we’re not suited after all.” She gave Darcy a suspicious glance. “I don’t know what I’ve done wrong. It was perfect yesterday.”
Why was she looking at Darcy like that? Slightly accusatorily. Jane never gave those looks. Never blamed other people. To a fault. I searched Darcy’s face for the answer. His features went defensive, hard. Like there was something he wasn’t telling us.
I had to get to the bottom of this. Now.
“Jane, please stop. Let’s talk.” I stepped in front of her and took her elbow.
It killed me to see her like this. Only last night, she’d been on a total high, laughing and joking with William and everyone else, comfortable like I’d never seen her with anyone before.
She looked down, obviously ashamed. “I can’t right now. It’s over before it began. He doesn’t want me.” She gasped out a sob. “I’m so embarrassed. Please, can we leave? I’ll wait in the car. Please hurry, Lizzy.”
This didn’t make any sense. William was head over heels for her.
“Jane, please tell me what you think has happened? This is such a shock.”
She raised her face, her lips trembling. “Please, Lizzy, let’s go. We’ll talk in the car.”
It broke my heart to see her so distraught. I hadn’t seen her like this since her dealings with her ex, who’d gaslighted her into a frenzy of confusion and low self-esteem.
I strode to the front door to get my things, Darcy beside me.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Jane and William had a wonderful time yesterday afternoon and last night.”
Darcy was quiet, which didn’t sit well.
The look that Jane had given Darcy had exuded hurt. Disappointment. Odd from a woman who could never loathe someone and rarely disliked anyone.
I stopped and grabbed his arm. His face was closed off, totally different from when we were about to kiss, his eyes steely. “Do you know something about this?”
Knightley and Emma emerged from the front door, bags in hand. Darcy moved away, motioning me over. Then he shrugged. “Yes, of course. My brother and I are close. My job is to protect him.”
My job is to protect him.
From my sister?
“But you can trust me, and you can trust my sister. I don’t understand—did you have something to do with Wills pushing my sister away?” I asked. I held my breath, my nerves on fire and my stomach rock hard, because I dreaded his reply.
He pressed his lips so firm they whitened. “I cautioned Wills out of concern, but ultimately, he made his own choice. He’s been badly burned before.”
“But your brother looks up to you. You poisoned him to my sister.”
My whole body vibrated with anger, an acidic bile rising in my throat. My lack of good judgment about this man made me sway with dizziness. How could I have even thought about kissing him?
Darcy’s cheekbones reddened. “I only said to slow down and pointed out a few things to him.”
I drew back farther. “What did you point out to him?”
“That Jane didn’t seem to prefer him to anyone else over the weekend. But I certainly didn’t influence him.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “How could you not realize how much value Wills puts on your opinion? I know my sister genuinely liked him very much.”
His brows drew together into a frown. “I didn’t see that from her. No one would.”
I felt my eyes widen at his bizarre claim. “How can you presume to know my sister and how she feels?”
I stared at him, everything else dissolving.
Voices sounded around me, Emma and Knightley coming and going from their cars.
I could vaguely feel the dogs around my legs, but the rest of the world shut off with a slam, and my whole consciousness zeroed in on this man’s face and his words.
I didn’t speak. I was waiting, I supposed, for an apology for what he’d done.
Something to soften it so we could perhaps salvage whatever we were exploring…
He fussed with his shirt cuffs. “Look, I have to head back tonight, but I want to see you again. I could send a car for you tomorrow night. We can meet in London for dinner.”
“Are you kidding?” I fisted my hands, my chest heaving. He must have mistaken my speechlessness and staring for being entranced or flattered.
“You don’t want to go for dinner? Or you don’t want to come to London? I can’t come back here. I have too full a workday.” He took a closer look at me. “Lizzy, I didn’t ask about your thoughts, because I assumed I already knew. Do you share my feelings? I feel like you do.”
I was shaking—not with anger, but with something rawer, deeper, more humiliating. At him, yes, for what he’d done to my sister. But even more at myself.
I’d badly misjudged a man again. The realization hit like a blow to the stomach. I felt ill that I’d let Darcy slip past my defenses, coil his way into my good graces, despite that I’d seen him clearly from the beginning.
He had shown me exactly who he was the moment he’d walked into my life. The moment he’d seen me dancing and he’d openly made that rude comment.
And still…I’d let myself soften. I’d allowed myself to be flattered by his attention, warmed by the way he looked at me, touched by gestures that now felt grotesquely false.
And now he’d gone and planted invidious doubts in Wills’s mind about Jane that had absolutely no foundation—to such an extent that Wills had been compelled to completely distance himself from her.
I wanted to believe in people, wanted to see the best side of them, but my hopefulness was blinding my good judgment.
Why hadn’t I held on to my awful, real first impression?
Why hadn’t I trusted myself? My instincts had been right.
But I’d pushed them aside because—for a few foolish, fragile moments—I’d wanted to believe in something better.
In him.
I hated that most of all.
“No, I don’t share your feelings. I can barely stand here talking to you. You have ruined the happiness of my sister. Your brother was clearly captivated by her, and you have persuaded him to send her away. Who knows when they’ll both find something real again?”
He flinched. Then he regained his usual certain demeanor. “I only told him to slow down. I had to speak up—I had no choice. My loyalty is to my brother. As I said, your sister showed no affection or unique preference for him, even in small ways.”
My anger at his callousness tightened around my throat like an invisible hand, stealing my breath one furious heartbeat at a time.
“How can you say that? You don’t know her.
She cares for him deeply, but she’s shy and reserved.
Can you not see that? What do you want for evidence?
And after condemning her, you presume that tomorrow I’ll want to spend four hours traveling to meet you for dinner.
We don’t even know each other. If you feel this way about my sister, how then can I trust what you feel or say about me?
” Dazed, I shook my head, and tears threatened, hot and blinding.
“I need some space. I’m not sure I want to see you again. ”
He flinched, and his face set harder, his jaw pulsing with restraint. “Don’t worry on that score. I won’t trouble you.” His voice was flat and emotionless. Then he looked past me. “Oh my God, no.”
I turned to a flash of red. Harry the cameraman. Oh hell.
Had he caught all this? His deer-in-the-headlights expression indicated yes. Our whole exchange was going to be on TV. My stomach lurched with shame.
I ran inside to get my bag. To get as far away from Darcy as possible.