Chapter Three #3
This woman-child, this Miss Elizabeth! Damn her pert opinions and fine eyes!
She stirred his compulsion to hit her, kiss her, shake her, and fuck her all at the same time.
He halted in mid-stride and stared down at her.
Her face was a pale, emotionless plane that had not changed in the two weeks since their official engagement.
Darcy had only two more weeks with her before he had to return north, and he had made no progress in his seduction.
There had been no whores, no Caroline since the papers regarding the marriage were signed.
His cock ached with want almost constantly, but his interest in other women had waned. His desire was solely for Elizabeth.
“You are very free with your speech, my sweet.”
“Perhaps ye would care for a wife who is more obedient.”
“I think I shall assume the risk you pose.”
“It is thy life. I suppose I cannot stop ye from risking it.”
“Is that a threat?” He was amused.
Elizabeth’s steely blue eyes met his. She was unflinching. “When I make a threat towards ye I promise it will not be so veiled.”
He threw a glance towards the house and confirmed they were out of sight.
In a trice, he grabbed her by her shoulders, nearly lifting her off the ground as he crushed his mouth to hers.
Unable to fight him with her arms trapped at her sides, she refused to give into his hungry demands.
Finally, he pulled away, angry. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing the queue at the nape of his neck and pulling a few ink-dark strands loose.
His eyes narrowed as he focused on her. His voice was tight, strained.
“I have paid for you. You cannot escape. And if you are as unresponsive on our wedding night, I shall cast you aside after I take you, and no man, not even your dear Mr. Wickham, shall want you.”
She took a deep breath to steady herself and met his eyes once more. “Perhaps no man will want me, but I shall at least be free of thee!”
Turning upon her heel, she started to move away but was grabbed roughly by her arm and spun around. Darcy leaned down, brought his nose level with hers, and let his eyes bore into hers. He held her at arm’s length in hope that his manhood would calm.
No such luck.
“You should think heavily upon ridding yourself of me, my sweet. The marriage contract is completely dependent upon your behaviour. I am well within my rights to cast you aside, but if I do, or if you renounce your vows in anyway, the contract is forfeit. Dear Papa loses everything. To me.”
He should have known better than to goad her so.
Fury and unhappiness exploded at that moment, and she went forth in a rage, beating at his chest in a frenzy of small fists and foul words.
She railed against him, against her father, and against the fate she had been given.
Emotions poured out, all she had bottled up came bubbling up and frothed.
Stunned for a moment, he stood stock still and took her childish beating.
“I hate ye! Monster! My father has betrayed me! I have lost everything, and yet ye threaten and mock! I am to pass my days with a cold, vicious man who has no heart!”
For the first time in his life, words hurt Darcy. Never before had somebody said such a thing to him, and they shook him to his core. Unsure how to react to this new pain, he settled on an emotion with which he was more familiar: anger.
“You are like a child who cannot get her way!” He bellowed.
“I have offered my home to you, my lands, my gold to any children we might have, and yet you are ungrateful and rage about the life you believe that you have been denied! I see nothing so very wrong with what you will receive in its stead.”
They stopped for a moment and stared at each other.
His hands were still on top of her shoulders where they had gone during her attack and hers rested against his chest; her fists had unfurled when she had needed to steady her body.
Slowly, he released her, and she moved away.
Awareness seeped in that he had hurt her as much as she had hurt him.
Try as he might, he could not quite comprehend what that infliction meant.
Awareness came to Darcy like a bolt of lightning— he did not like to see her hurt.
I have to have her in my bed, but I must have her there willingly.
He ached for her to want him as well, but now he had become attentive to what it would cost her.
No, that direction of thought would not do.
Pushing those concerns aside, Darcy once again focused on his visceral needs and desires.
That was all that truly mattered, was it not? He was the one with the power.
“I offer my apologies, Lord Darcy. It was wrong of me to let my emotions get the better of my judgment. I beg forgiveness.”
She must have realized the pain her words had caused, though he was already pushing the damage down deep.
Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. He stood with his arms limp, and stared at her for a long, quiet moment, as he tried to calm his heart and mind from the heated sentiments that had boiled over during her outburst. Pleased that she was contrite, Darcy nodded.
Her fire had always excited him, but this was new.
Perhaps this was her accepting her fate, maybe she realized her behaviour needed to improve.
Even so, he could not deny the thrill that surged through him when he anticipated their next quarrel.
He offered his arm once again, which she took without argument, and they walked back to the house.