Taking Instruction #2
“That is the general idea, yes, because now I have got it in my head you think I might damage you whenever I touch you, we shall never pass off as a proper couple, even with this sham of a ring. We barely got through the checkpoint at Calahorra with no proper stamp. And, as you claim we could never pass as siblings, either, then we must find a way to mend the problem. Unless you prefer to go about as the sort of couple who can hardly abide each other’s company.
That is a situation with which I am all too familiar, but there…
I think if my parents were travelling about Spain and someone happened upon my mother — she is still rather handsome, you know — my father would have cheerfully sold her to the highest bidder, and she would have only lamented having to leave her good teapot behind. ”
He was kneading the bridge of his nose now. “Pray, do not compare us to your parents.”
“Well?”
Darcy’s shoulders sagged. “Very well. Only do not —”
“Yes, yes, I know. Do not enjoy myself overmuch. Fear not, Mr Darcy, I had not intended to.”
“That is not what I meant to say. Do not touch my ribs again. You have quite done me in with the bandaging.” He tossed the cravat on the bed and stepped towards her.
Her brow creased. “Right, then. Shall I stand on a box to reach you?”
He was moving closer, his eyes holding hers. “You managed that part well enough before.”
“I did, rather. Well, I await your instruction, sir.” She closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and tilted her chin up.
She felt the heat of his body as he stepped closer. A few seconds later, his fingertips found her chin, but she waited, and nothing more happened.
“Relax your jaw. You are like a block of wood.”
Elizabeth opened her eyes. “But I thought —”
His mouth closed over hers.
All she could think of was trying to breathe and finding him there instead.
She drew back slightly, and he followed, his upper lip fitting between hers and his lower lip creating the faintest pull.
His breath warmed hers, and she discovered he was easing her jaw open, claiming territory she had not yet decided to cede.
Oh, no, this was not…
Terrifying was almost the right word. But not entirely.
She had not the means to comprehend it, the way he was drawing her into himself and making her a part of him.
Only that it was… well, it was not nearly as unpleasant a duty as she had been prepared for, and that made it dangerous.
Her breath quickened, and she tensed, her mouth going rigid.
He pulled away as if she had slapped him again. “I might remind you this was your idea.” His voice was hoarse.
“And so, it was. I only…” She cleared her throat. “You surprised me, that is all. Again.”
He studied her, as if trying to decide if she were telling the truth. “You must relax, Elizabeth. Even breaths. You needn’t act as if you are plunging under water.”
“Right.”
“And you know I would never…”
“Never what?” she whispered. She leaned a little closer.
His face reddened. Fitzwilliam Darcy was blushing. He swallowed once and wetted his lips. “If you ask me to stop…”
She nodded. “You have yet to misuse me. I did not expect you to start now.”
He found her jaw with his fingers again and gently drew her to him. This time, when his lips brushed hers, he moved with almost aching slowness. There was a sweep, and a shiver, and heat… so much heat. She felt the inner part of his lips, the moisture sliding over hers, seeking, pressing for more.
“Let me open your mouth,” he whispered. “Relax, Elizabeth.”
She swallowed, then somehow found the muscles responsible for locking down on him and forced them to ease. She let him in, and he came.
His hand was cradling the back of her head now, the other one grazing her cheek and tracing her chin.
He was leading her like in a dance — advance, caress, retreat, breathe, advance.
With each stroke of his mouth, she found herself mellowing, permitting new depth, shuddering the first time the tip of his tongue touched hers, and never again shrinking. No, it was too late to shrink away now.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured against her lips.
She pulled back. “Why? I am trying to master a skill, not be seduced.”
“I can feel you staring at me, and it is making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. You are supposed to close your eyes and pretend you are enjoying —”
She cut him off by capturing his mouth herself.
She did close her eyes, though she found it a lamentable loss of a rather interesting view.
Mr Darcy looked like a different man altogether when he was not scowling.
And since she had made the back of his neck prickle, she soothed it with her hand, because it was only fair.
His hands, after all, felt rather nice as he tipped her head back and edged his arm further behind her to bear a little of her weight.
He sharpened his movements, letting his teeth catch softly on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth, and suckling it gently.
Some sort of heat was blooming inside her, almost a tickle or a shiver spreading out to her limbs from a molten centre.
She should not let this continue… but there seemed to be more to discover, for each second was adding to her knowledge.
What would happen if she slid a hand up his jaw?
It was rough, as it often was lately. How curious that the short hairs seemed to have a grain, a direction that smoothed them and another that made them prickle her fingers when she twirled them in lazy circles at the edge of his cheek.
His kiss became broader, his breaths slower.
And then, at the bottom of one of them, came a strangled sort of moan.
He blinked and snapped backwards the instant the sound had left his mouth.
“What was that?”
He coughed slightly and took a healthy step back from her. “Something in my throat is all. I don’t suppose we’ve any wine left?”
“Not a drop, and I would not trust that water in the basin. So? Did I manage passably well?”
He grimaced. “We will certainly not be taken for brother and sister.”
“Oh, now, that is high praise, indeed. At least you are not accusing me of biting you again.”
The edge of his mouth crept upward as he rubbed his jaw, then he caught himself and sobered again. “I daresay you have mastered the concept sufficiently to fool a casual observer.”
“Then I am satisfied. Here, your coat fell on the floor.” She picked it up and tossed it at him.
His arm shot out to catch it, but the swift movement made him wince. He arched his back, then his hand hovered over the bandage, and he bit back a hiss.
Elizabeth sighed. “Let me see it. Are you bleeding through?”
“No, I am not —”
She paid him no mind, brushing his arm away and lifting his shirt. “The knot is still holding, but if you keep making sudden movements like that, you will keep opening the wound. Perhaps I should strap a board to your side.”
He growled. “Perhaps if you would stop poking and pulling at me, I could finally rest it for the night.”
Elizabeth tugged a bit at the strips of cloth, smoothing them flat under the knot once more. “There. You will live until morning, and I daresay you will number it among your misfortunes.”
“I shall recommend you warmly to my enemies, Mrs Darcy.”
She raised her brows. “I told you not to call me that.”
He grinned. “I know. That is why I do it. It is the single reliable pleasure this marriage has yet afforded me, and I find I am unwilling to give it up.”