Chapter Nineteen
“Is this my chamber?” Darcy said, pushing past me into the tiny pink-hued room. He sat down on the edge of the narrow double bed, and it let out an ominous creak.
“It’s mine, too, I’m afraid.”
He looked at me in horror. “I beg your pardon?”
I sat down on the bed, keeping a safe distance from him. “There was a mess-up with the booking system, and this is all they have. I’m sorry.”
“But where am I to sleep? On the floor?” Darcy nodded toward the narrow patch of threadbare carpet between the bed and the window.
“Don’t be silly, we can share the bed.”
I saw his cheeks blush as pink as the wallpaper. “Are you certain?”
“I don’t mind as long as you don’t.”
Darcy didn’t say anything, and I suddenly became very aware that it was just the two of us, alone together in a small bedroom.
I felt my own cheeks getting hot, and looked away.
This was ridiculous. Darcy and I had spent hours alone together over the past ten days, so why did I feel so self-conscious now?
Clearly, something had changed after last night, the unspoken platonic ground rules of our cohabitation broken by the kiss.
But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? I didn’t want a platonic relationship with Darcy; I wanted a romantic one—and surely this awkward silence between us now was a sign that we were moving in that direction.
After all, Darcy spent the first half of Pride and Prejudice barely able to utter a word around Elizabeth because he fancied her so much.
I glanced at Darcy, who was studying the floral bedspread.
He must have felt me looking, because he turned his head toward me, our eyes meeting.
He didn’t look away, and I held my breath.
Did this mean he wanted to kiss me again?
If so, I was very happy to give it another go and see if we could improve on last night’s awkward attempt.
Plus, if Darcy and I were making out in here, then it meant we’d have to spend less time outside, where there were signs of Jane Austen everywhere we looked.
Our eyes still locked, I began to slowly slide my hand across the bed toward him.
My plan was to touch him, very lightly, and see how he reacted.
If he recoiled, then it would be clear he had no desire to do anything, and I’d know where I stood.
I didn’t dare breathe, every nerve ending in my body hyperaware of Darcy next to me. Just a few more centimeters and then…
The tip of my finger brushed against Darcy’s leg, and I heard him draw breath. I froze, waiting to see what he’d do next. The seconds stretched on, both of us completely motionless. And then, just as I was about to pull my hand back, he spoke.
“Miss Knight?”
“Mr. Darcy.”
It was like I’d said a magic word, because suddenly he launched himself at me—quite literally, as he threw himself on top of me, knocking me back onto the mattress.
It gave an almighty squeak of protest as his lips crashed against my cheek, then my nose, before finally finding my lips.
His tongue slipped through my teeth and began to explore my mouth like it had last night, although his hands came nowhere near me.
I tried to kiss him back, but this seemed to be a one-man show with no expectation of audience participation.
I wriggled slightly, trying to move my body against his.
Darcy’s upper body was narrow and bony against my breasts, but his thighs were strong, no doubt from all the horse-riding, and he was clamping me down so I could barely move.
In fact, the only thing in motion right now was his overenthusiastic tongue.
“Miber arsey,” I mumbled, trying to pull my head back to speak. “Arsey!”
He released my mouth. “Are you quite all right?”
“Yeah, fine. It’s just…maybe you could go a bit slower. Less…frenetic?”
“Ah, I see.” He frowned so deeply his eyes were almost closed. “Any other, uh, evaluation?”
“Perhaps you could try using your hands. You know…touch me?”
“Indeed.”
He paused, his body braced above mine, and for a moment I thought he wasn’t going to carry on.
Then he lowered his mouth and kissed me again.
This time it was gentler, less washing-machine-on-spin-cycle, and I kissed him back.
This was more like it! He still wasn’t touching me with his hands, but I put my own on his back, digging my fingernails lightly into his skin so that he let out a low groan.
We carried on like this for several minutes, and I tried to lose myself in kissing the literal book boyfriend of my dreams. And yes, the bed creaked every time we moved and the mattress was like a slab of concrete, and sure, my body still wasn’t igniting with fire like it usually did when I was with a guy I liked, but this was still 100 percent better than at the party last night.
Our kiss there flickered into my mind, and as it did, I saw Nick’s horrified face when he’d seen us.
What! Why the hell was I thinking about him right now?
Because you know Nick’s right! the Fear crowed as Darcy moved his lips from my mouth to my neck. You may want this to be a real relationship, but it never will be.
No, that wasn’t true! We were away on our first romantic mini break together; what could be more real than that?
I twisted my body, dislodging Darcy so I could roll on top of him.
He inhaled sharply in surprise, but then his lips were back on mine.
He put his left hand up to my face, stroking my cheek, and I moaned.
See, I was enjoying this! Darcy and I were physically compatible!
Your problem isn’t physical attraction, you donkey. Your problem is that you love Darcy, but you’re not in love with him.
But I was in love with him. I’d been in love with Darcy since I was fourteen.
He was the man I compared everyone else to, my ideal mix of looks, brains, and loyalty.
Jesus, I loved him so much I’d managed to summon him out of a book!
And maybe something didn’t feel 100 percent right between us, but if I couldn’t make a relationship work with my perfect man, then how would I ever make a relationship work with anyone?
“Oh my dear, sweet Zoe,” he mumbled into my neck, and I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on him rather than the voice in my head.
You can’t make a relationship work because it’s built on lies, it shouted. You’ve misled him about everything, including the fact Jane Austen wrote him for Elizabeth Bennet. He’s not yours to keep!
I jerked my head back, leaving Darcy staring up at me in bewilderment.
“What is the matter?” he panted. “Have I done something incorrectly? Did I hurt you?”
“No, Darcy. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
I rolled off him and sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. My head was spinning, and for a horrible moment, I thought I was going to be sick.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“I’m good,” I said, although the opposite was true. I wasn’t good; I was a liar who was misleading the man I claimed to love.
“Darcy, when you saw those people in Regency costume earlier, what did it make you think?”
He sat up and moved to sit next to me, rubbing his face in confusion at the sudden gear change.
“Well, I suppose it made me feel a little maudlin for all I have lost. As much as I have tried to make peace with my life here, I should have liked to have had a little company from those who know what it is to be shipwrecked in a foreign century.”
I swallowed because there it was. Darcy had been putting on a brave face, but I’d seen the pain in his eyes when he’d been reminded of Georgiana earlier, and his disappointment when he’d realized the festival-goers weren’t his own people.
It was clear he was missing his old life far more than he’d been letting on.
Or maybe he hadn’t been putting on a brave face, but I’d just been ignoring the signs, too caught up in my own selfish desire to keep him here to see how unhappy he really was.
“Do not look so sad,” Darcy said, and I realized he was watching me with concern.
“I will admit, seeing those fellows caused me some sorrow, but I am well again now. You need not worry for me, for I have accepted that in all likelihood I shall never see my home again. But I believe that with you by my side, dearest Zoe, I shall still be quite happy here. Indeed, I do believe that I am developing feelings of the strongest affection for you.”
I closed my eyes, my chest aching. How long had I dreamed of hearing Darcy say words like this to me?
And yet now that I was hearing them, they felt all wrong.
He shouldn’t be developing feelings for me; he should be developing them for Elizabeth.
And however much I might not want to admit it, I was keeping them apart by hiding him from Nick, the one person who might be able to help get him back into Pride and Prejudice, where he belonged.
“Darcy, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it, Zoe?”
He was watching me with his deep-brown eyes, so full of trust, and I reached across the bed to take his right hand in mine. But as soon as I touched it, he winced and snatched his arm back.
“Are you OK?” I asked as he thrust it behind his back.
“I am perfectly fine, thank you.”
“Have you hurt your hand?”
“It is nothing but a bruise.”
“Can I take a look at it? We can always stop at a chemist and get some arnica cream this afternoon.”
I waited for him to show me his hand, but he kept it behind his back.
“Darcy, what’s going on? If there’s something wrong with it, then—”
“Fine, woman! Here.”
He shoved his arm toward me, but I was too shocked by his use of the word woman to do anything but stare at him, open-mouthed. How dare he talk to me like that? I was about to give him a bollocking when I glanced down, and my heart stopped beating for the second time in twenty-four hours.
Two of Mr. Darcy’s fingers had disappeared.