Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
He hesitated. The feel of her skin on his was maddening.
Her lips on him made him lose his senses, and now she was asking for something dangerous.
While he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman, he knew he had to be strong, to end this before they began in earnest that which could not be undone.
“Darcy,” she said, inching closer, “I do not know for certain what it all entails, but you can show me. Let us truly be one.”
He eased back, his head spinning. “I would like to, but it is not prudent.”
“Prudent? Prudent! Mr— Darcy, I tire of prudence! We are to be married in a short time, and I do not think it would be ruinous if we…rushed things a bit.”
He pulled in a long breath. “I desire nothing more, yet I shall be the voice of reason.” Her pout nearly undid him.
“My love.” He took her face in his hands, every bit of his body alert and thrumming.
“If you think resisting this is easy, then you are a fool. And I know you are not a fool, so I urge you to behave rationally. We shall be married soon. In fact, let us go to the vicar immediately so he might begin reading the banns this very Sunday.” Her brow furrowed, and he kissed away the lines, nearly changing his mind regarding self-control at the sweet scent of the lavender in her hair.
“It is never good to flout society. There are too many ways it might go wrong, and I could never forgive myself if they did.”
“Can you never be optimistic?”
He felt shamed by the question, though her dancing eyes told him she was teasing. He said, “I…try. But life has made me wary, and I would hate to begin anything with you and have there be consequences that cannot be undone.”
“Such as?”
A child. She had to know he was speaking of a child. Though many couples of all classes went to the altar with the bride already expecting, he did not wish to be one of them. He wanted to start a marriage as was proper. As was expected.
He hated himself. Why was he always a slave to expectation? He had a woman he cared for in front of him—his betrothed!—who was willing to give herself over to him body and soul, and he had refused her. What kind of man was he?
An honourable one.
Lord help him.
“Let us return to the house,” he said, feeling more grim and irritated than he desired to be. “Perhaps your mother will be there, and we can tell her the news and distract ourselves with the nonsense that is sure to follow.”
“Nonsense? With my family? I cannot imagine it.” She smirked.
Then of all things, she squeezed his behind!
He guffawed and reached for her, but she scampered out of his grasp, teasing.
He laughed, pleased that she would not sulk, and more, that she was a playful woman.
She would be a joyful wife and would help to lift him out of his natural inclination towards gravity.
How he had longed for levity in his life.
When she ran off laughing, he knew he would never tire of that sound.