Bennet, Pride Before the Fall (Love Austen 3)

Bennet raced a hand through his hair. “It’s important, yes. Vital, even.”

Darcy’s manner grew more relaxed. He even smiled as he collected new tiles and refilled his teacup.

Bennet finally lay the word he’d been saving, tripling his word score. He grinned smugly at Darcy, who overfilled Bennet’s cup.

He mopped up the mess, gaze shooting between Bennet and the board.

Finally, he laughed. “If you beat me at this game, I’ll have to demand another round.”

They played ‘another round’ twice, Darcy narrowly winning the third, before the others returned from their movie and Darcy left.

Bennet went to bed with a weird lightness in his feet, grateful for the excuse of being a guest. If he’d been at home . . . Well, attraction certainly wasn’t rational.

The next morning—New Year’s Eve—found Bennet wandering happily around the richly textured stalls and pretty handmade offerings of the local market. Lyon had shaken Bennet off as soon as he could, and Charlie and Olivia were hunting for ingredients for the dessert they wanted to take to Caroline’s later.

He tasted some local honey and immediately dished out cash for a jar. Attention elsewhere as he shuffled back into the stream of locals, he bumped into Darcy clutching the most beautiful bouquet and looking equally surprised to see Bennet again, though he collected himself quickly.

Their eyes met over freesias and red roses. “Three days without spotting you once, and now every day.”

“It’s the best market in town,” Darcy said defensively. “I come most weekends.”

Bennet leaned in, lowering his voice, “I’m not accusing you of stalking me.”

“I would never for a second consider stalking you.” Darcy looked so disgusted by the idea that Bennet couldn’t help feeling the teensiest bit offended.

Just when Bennet thought he was understanding him.

“Right. Well. I’ll keep looking around.”

Darcy opened his mouth as if to tell him to stay, but changed his mind.

Three times in the course of twenty minutes, their paths converged again. Each time, Bennet laughed and passed him with a wave.

The fourth time, Bennet gave up. “This is ridiculous. We may as well walk around together.” He side-eyed Darcy. “Beautiful flowers. Who are they for?”

Darcy stammered, blushed, and Bennet raised an intrigued brow.

Darcy’s furrowed.

“Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“They’re for . . . my house. I like . . . brightness. I want to look at them while I work. Smell them.” Darcy’s step stuttered. “Please forget I said any of that. I’m not good at this.”

“Admitting you like flowers? You’re doing fine, and you look amazing holding them.” Bennet leaned in, stilling Darcy with a hand to his forearm, and inhaled. The fine perfume reached deeply into him and an electric shiver followed. “God, they’re beautiful.”

A river of locals fanned around them like they were a private island. Darcy’s arm flexed underneath his fingers as he angled them for better access. “I’m sure you get showered in bouquets all the time.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I should imagine you have a lot of people falling for you.”

“Not as many as you think. This year, only Will.”

Darcy jerked his flowers back. “Oh. I thought I heard . . . Well, that’s gossip for you.”

“Thought you heard what?”

“That you weren’t seeing Will anymore.”

“Cubworthy forum?”

“Yes.”

Bennet hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “It’s true.”

Darcy kept changing his grip on the flowers. “Are you . . . I mean, Caroline and her mum invited me to celebrate New Year’s with them.”

“Look at that, inviting us to the same party.”

“You’ll be there?”

Bennet frowned. Darcy was acting all kinds of strange. “That’s the plan.”

Darcy nodded and nodded. “Can I, ah, offer you a ride home? The buses are never on time.”

Funny, how Darcy thought he had to help him home. Perhaps he’d said it to be polite but hadn’t really meant it. Perhaps he even hoped he’d be turned down. The color had drained from his face.

“I mean, I know buses provide a good service. And you’re right about being environmentally concerned. I don’t want to force you into my car.” Darcy was rambling. It’d be endearing, if he weren’t so keen on taking his offer back. “. . . or you could walk. I imagine you love walking.”

“Don’t worry.” Bennet gestured to Lyon across the market. “Olivia drove us here. I’m sure she’ll drive us back.”

“Oh. Right. Yes. Of course.” Darcy inclined his head, turned on his heel and plunged into the crowd like he couldn’t get away from Bennet fast enough.

Staring after him, Bennet went over the moment. He’d felt that shivery connection when he’d touched Darcy’s arm, smelled the flowers. Had Darcy felt it? Had it made him aware how close they stood, publicly? Did he fear what others were thinking?

The summer air seemed to chill. With a strange tightening in his belly, Bennet tracked down people who weren’t afraid to be seen with him.