Pride and Proposals

Elizabeth gave him a blinding smile. “I am saying, yes, Mr. Darcy, I love you. Yes, I will marry you. Yes.”

Darcy experienced such a flood of intermixed emotions —relief, joy, overwhelming love, even the impulse to laugh—that he hardly knew what to do or say. Competing impulses warred within him until he could no longer withstand the building emotions. Propriety be damned! He surged across the short space between their seats.

Elizabeth startled at his unexpected action, but her body melted into him as he settled next to her and took her in his arms. “You have made me a very happy man today,” he murmured as he gently untied her bonnet ribbons and removed the offending garment, gaining access to her hair.

Darcy paused for a moment, watching her reaction. However, she did not seem at all alarmed by this egregious breach of propriety but gave him an arch look that further emboldened him. He quickly located the hair pins that kept her complicated coiffeur in place and removed a few in strategic places. The remaining pins rained down on the floor as her dark tresses tumbled down over her shoulders.

Darcy exhaled, soaking in the sight. He had never before seen her with her hair down, and it was a magnificent view. Dark curls framed her face, falling midway down her back. This forbidden sight accelerated his breathing and caused his heart to pound out a more rapid rhythm. Despite the chill in the carriage, sweat dampened his cravat. With one arm, he tucked her closer to his body, but it was not enough. It could never be close enough. Although if he could rid them of these offending layers of clothing …

No, Darcy cut off that line of thought. Envisioning the two of them naked, even in a jostling carriage, simply made him too uncomfortable.

It must wait for the wedding night.

Darcy focused on admiring how the weak afternoon sun reflected in her hair, creating light and dark highlights. Very deliberately, Darcy peeled off his gloves and plunged his hands into the silken mass of hair, provoking a gasp from Elizabeth. Her slightly parted lips were too great a temptation. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against hers.

It was not a polite kiss, but a demanding one. It demanded she respond to his passion—and revel in the sensations when she did. As they kissed, his hand skimmed down her body to her lower back, pressing her into him. The other hand held the back of her head. Elizabeth moaned against him, stoking his desire.

Fearing that Elizabeth was made uncomfortable by the awkward position of her body, Darcy started to pull away, but then Elizabeth shifted. Without breaking contact with his lips, she repositioned her body so she was now seated in his lap.

Oh, Good Lord! Darcy could hardly believe her boldness or his good fortune. His hands freely explored more of Elizabeth’s body, stroking the curves of her back and the sides of her waist. How he wished he could feel her soft skin instead of clothing!

It was ecstasy, but it also strained his control. He wanted so much more from her than was wise before their wedding.

Given the heat of his blood, the chaperone might need to station herself at the entrance to Elizabeth’s door that night. It would be difficult

to restrain himself, knowing Elizabeth was only a few doors away and that she indeed desired him …

Reluctantly, Darcy pulled back away from the ecstasy of Elizabeth’s mouth, although he could not bring himself to remove his hands from her waist. Elizabeth’s lips were red and swollen, her face flushed with desire, and her hair tousled. The wantonness in her look almost made him groan.

Fortunately, she did not seem at all angry over the liberties he had taken; in fact, she seemed rather bemused that he had stopped. “Mr. Darcy, I—”

“Elizabeth,” he interrupted. “You are sitting on my lap. I believe you may call me William.”

A delicate blush spread over her features. “Of course.” She made a move to slide off his lap, but Darcy’s hands held her in place. “I apologize. I did not mean to behave in such a wanton manner,” she said. “I do not know what came over me.”

Darcy put a finger to her lips. “Never apologize for your passion with me. It is one of the things I love about you and hope you will never change.”

She raised her eyebrows playfully, and one side of her mouth curved up in a wicked smile. “Very well, sir, if you wish me to be wanton, I will make the effort.”

Desire surged through Darcy’s blood as he imagined the possibilities. “Miss Bennet,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “I think it would be best if we had a very short betrothal.”

Epilogue

“A toast to the new couple!” Elizabeth’s Uncle Gardiner had a voice that boomed even above the hubbub of the celebrants around the breakfast table. Everyone fell silent as he spoke about how worthy a husband William would be for his niece. Elizabeth knew some of his words were intended to reassure her father, who had initially resisted the idea of such a “difficult, unpleasant man” marrying his daughter, but a hearty endorsement from her uncle had allayed most of his fears.

She smiled when her father glanced her way, letting him see the joy shining in her face. Indeed, the day was all the more joyous because he had been well enough to make the journey to Pemberley for the wedding in the small Darcy family chapel. Her wedding day would not have been complete without his presence.

As she glanced around the table, Elizabeth noticed the Earl of Matlock and his wife only taking tiny, disapproving sips of their champagne. Believing Richard’s death had banished the “upstart country miss” from their lives, they had been dismayed to find her foisted on them by their nephew. No doubt they were wondering how potent her “arts and allurements” must be to entrap two wealthy and discerning men.

She pushed any misgivings from her mind. Perhaps over time, they would come to believe she truly loved William. At least they had attended the wedding; Lady Catherine and her daughter had simply refused the invitation.

Elizabeth watched as Georgiana conversed with Jane, whose gentleness was helping to coax Darcy’s sister out of her shyness. Aside from the principal participants, no one had been more excited about their union than Georgiana. The prospect of having Elizabeth as her sister had made her giddy with joy for the past three weeks, and she had been essential in helping Elizabeth prepare for the hastily scheduled wedding.

William had been conversing with her father, seated on his other side, but now he turned to her and clasped her hand in his, raising it to his lips. His eyes smoldered as they held her gaze. “Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured. The delicate sensation of his lips brushing her hand sent shivers up her arm and down her spine—and she could not help imagining that evening…when he would finally embrace her in the marital bed.

She had expected to be nervous, but instead, she felt delightful anticipation, even eagerness. She loved him, and she trusted him. He stoked a passion in her she had not known existed. And tonight, she would have an opportunity to express that passion.

Elizabeth smiled at William, willing her eyes to convey all her love. However, she could not withstand such an intense look from him without also desiring his touches—in places not appropriate for a wedding breakfast. To distract herself, she glanced about the room once more.