Chapter 2.15 #4
“No…you were not wrong…not completely wrong. I cannot deny that my feelings changed after we met in London. It is true that I did not expect a proposal—and not of that kind… And I was still upset and angry with you because I suspected that you convinced Mr Bingley to leave my sister, but you were not completely wrong…perhaps just a little hasty.”
“Are you still angry…or upset with me?” he whispered, casting a quick glance at her.
“No…no, I am not…” She felt his gaze but could not bear to meet it yet.
“And I shall not be hasty any more…but I must know… and you are too generous to trifle with me… Would you please tell me—are your feelings as they were in Hertfordshire…or as they were in London? My feelings and wishes never changed, but yours…?” he asked tentatively, his voice slightly trembling.
She was certain her heart would stop, and she wondered whether it ever would beat again as her chest clenched. How could she even speak?
“My feelings…my feelings are…different than they were in Hertfordshire and…different than they were in London,” she whispered breathlessly.
She slowly turned her head to him, and his eyes were there, waiting for her.
The expression of heartfelt delight on his face lit his eyes.
She smiled—shy and nervous—and he smiled back—joyful and relieved—as they finally faced each other and remained still, stealing happiness from each other’s eyes.
Then he edged even closer and removed his gloves then took her hands and removed hers.
He placed a gentle, warm kiss in each palm then held her hands in his, never releasing her gaze.
She licked her lips, and his eyes lowered to her mouth.
She struggled to swallow as he slowly released her hand, untied her bonnet and put it down then daringly placed a soft kiss on her cheek, brushing the corner of her mouth.
His lips rested there, close to hers, burning her skin and making her wish for more.
She even turned her head a little, but he slowly pulled back; she kept her eyes closed as he put back her bonnet.
“We should leave; it is quite late,” he said unexpectedly, and she sighed with disappointment. She could not hear his words perfectly well, so she did not move. He took her hand and made her rise while he placed another soft kiss on the back of her hand.
As he arranged the saddle and she tried to find support for her weak knees, he took her hands again. “We shall be home in no time if we ride rather than walk. Do you trust me?”
She nodded in acceptance, unable to think what he truly meant, but she did trust him. He lifted her in his arms and put her on the saddle; then he climbed up behind her.
The saddle was too small for two people, so she felt herself crushed against him as he tried to arrange her as comfortably as possible.
She was seated in his lap, her legs hanging over his left side.
His arms embraced her while his hands took the reins, his left hand against her thigh and his right hand against her hip.
He leaned near her ear and whispered, his lips touching her skin. “Are you comfortable?”
“No, I am not. But I do trust you,” she replied, her hands clinging to his arms while Thunder stepped proudly down the path.
The view before them was splendid, but the ride down the hill was frightening; her heart was filled with overwhelming happiness while her body was tormented by a storm of fire and ice at his touch: every move that brushed them against each other and every whisper that caressed her ear.
Seated between his inner thighs, she could feel his warmth and his strength.
He was a skilful rider as he was accustomed to order and control.
She did not feel comfortable, but she felt safe and protected.
Their hands found each other and their fingers entwined.
She was so close to him that she could hardly breathe, but she barely needed breath.
Matlock Manor suddenly came in sight, and he stopped the horse; she turned to him, surprised, and he watched from mere inches away. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other. He leaned even closer.
“You shall decide when and what you want me to say, as well as when and what you want me to do. I shall not rush you, but please remember—I am impatient.” He smiled.
His eyes seemed on fire as she had never seen them before. His voice, however, was tender and caring, and his countenance serene.
“I will remember,” she said.
Her lips were dry again, and she could hardly speak; her eyes closed, and she leaned forward until his lips finally dared to meet hers, touching, caressing and tasting them in a soft, gentle kiss that ended too soon, leaving her breathless and him regretful for his promise not to be hasty.
He had strong doubts that he would be able to keep it.
In the small grove just beside Matlock’s front garden, Mr Darcy dismounted and helped Elizabeth down.
By the time they entered the house, the servants were about, a clear sign that the other guests had awakened.
Even more, Lady Selina and Mrs Gardiner appeared from the living room and called Elizabeth, asking where she had been.
She did not dare turn her head again, but she could feel Darcy’s eyes on her back while her body still held the warmth of his embrace and her lips still carried his taste.