A/N Just a very short drabble. Wickham x Amanda. Slightly AU in that there is no Darcy to be seen.
The Dance
Amanda opened her fan and wafted it back and forth. Dull, dull, dull. Boring. Nobody here had an ounce of sincerity about them. All fake smiling masks with biting loaded words.
"You seem a trifle out of sorts Miss Price."
She jumped with a flood of profound relief.
"Wickham, you have no idea how good it is to see you."
The soldier raised his eyebrows and smirked. She almost wanted to take the words back…almost.
"Right bastard at the right time?"
The grin spread across her face and she flashed the fan up to cover it.
"Indeed."
It was completely insufferable that he had been right, about them being the same, about how they understood each other. He played the game and she knew the rules. It was almost fun, the dance they did around each other, or at least it had been. He had no right to be an honourable man. He had no right to help her for nothing. The games continued, the dance remained the same, but suddenly her partner looked different. This was no longer a crafty avoidance of an unscrupulous man, which meant the dance became just that. A dance.
"…Miss Price?"
She mentally shook herself and met Wickham's half-amused, half-puzzled look.
"Sorry what?"
"I was asking you if you cared for a dance Miss Price," he smirked. It was too much, far too much.
"I think I need some air," she murmured and hurried out the room.
The balmy air of the garden, the sweet smell of rain touched earth and she leaned against the wall, letting it all seep in. It was all real.
"Miss Price?"
Wickham appeared in the doorway beside her, moving to stand in front, the light from inside casting onto his face. He was puzzled.
"If my sparkling wit and charm is all too much to handle then allow me at least the honour of catching you as you swoon."
She almost choked the laugh.
"George!"
He took a step closer.
"Why are you out here Miss Price?"
His eyes caught hers and she knew she couldn't disguise it. He tilted his head slightly as though to check.
"Amanda…"
He reached out a hand and she felt herself shiver in anticipation as it hovered above her cheek. She swallowed hard.
"George I…"
She had been going to push him away, tell him to back off, but he closed the distance till he was so close she would only have to tilt her head to kiss him. She were barely holding her body in check as Wickham gazed down on her face; desire, hope, love, flickering through his eyes. They shimmered like liquid and fire.
"George I…" her last attempt to stop this, but he traced a finger over the curve of her neck, and it trailed off in a shuddering breath.
"Amanda," he breathed and kissed her.