Hi guy's i'm back with the new update. So sorry about the wait...i totally love your reviews so thanks so much to all of you. Big happy dance when they come through. Hope you guy's like this and review if you can...and thanks wand for cleaning up my spelling, grammar and every other mess I seem to get up to whilst writing.
Stormy pride
Chapter Four:
Darcy's breath caught in his throat at her words, and his grip tightened almost painfully on her shoulder.
"Elizabeth," he sighed. Burying his face in the soft flesh of her neck, he breathed in her scent as he gently skimmed his nose along the tender flesh from the nape of her neck to her ear. "My Elizabeth," he whispered tenderly, his hot breath sending delicious shivers trembling though her body.
Elizabeth's mind was a fog of sensations. Her hands, clamped to her heaving chest, prevented her open dress from falling to the floor. Her heart pounded away within her chest like never before at his words. She rejoiced in them and despaired of them in equal measure.
In her muddled state, she could barely comprehend why she should object to those words being uttered to her, when all she wanted was to surrender herself to them, to become his Elizabeth. Yet something nagged at her...
Darcy's arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her back flush against him. His other hand trailed lightly over the exposed skin of her shoulder.
Elizabeth's struggle for composure was akin to wading through quick sand; the onslaught of Darcy's presence wrecked havoc on her person. She should not be allowing this. However much her body screamed in protest, she must put an end to his liberties.
"Darcy," her voice shook as she spoke. "Please..."
"Please what, my love?" He began to place hot kisses on her neck.
"Stop." She nearly sobbed, barely able to speak the words. "Please stop."
He stopped. Elizabeth was ashamed of the small whimper of dismay that escaped her as Darcy withdrew. The loss of pleasure she experienced as his lips left her flesh was so complete that it was almost painful.
"Might I ask why?" he asked. His tone was one of cool indifference but Elizabeth could feel a fine tremor in the long fingers that gripped her shoulders.
The question echoed in her brain, ricocheting around unanswered. She struggled to form a reply; every time she thought she had it, it trickled away like water through her fingers.
An image of kind, gentle blue eyes flashed into her head – eyes before tears and sorrow marred their perfect beauty.
"Jane."
Elizabeth felt herself being turned around in the circle of Darcy's strong arms until they stood face-to-face. The difference in their heights meant that she found herself staring at his strong jaw – which was now set in irritation.
"Did I not explain about Bingley and Miss Bennett?" he asked irritably.
"Explained what ,pray tell?" Her sharp tongue awoke from its temporary apathy. "That her family - my family - was not dignified, wealthy, or suitable enough for a friend of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lord of Pemberley?"
Darcy huffed in exasperation, only just managing not to roll his eyes. "Are we back to arguing, Elizabeth? I thought we were finally communicating honestly with one another."
"And that it precisely what I am doing." Elizabeth steeled her backbone. "Your letter opened my eyes to many things - Mr Wickham's character most especially." Her voice faltered slightly at the sound of his name and her cheeks stained with pink. She was embarrassed by how easily she had been duped.
Darcy's eyes hardened at the mention of Wickham. His hands dropped from her shoulders.
He look upon her in silence for several agonising seconds. "Did he mean so much to you?" he finally asked, his voice catching slightly as he forced the words from his lips.
Elizabeth did not understand. Unable to comprehend exactly what he alluded to, her head tilted in a wordless question.
"Wickham," Darcy clarified. "Did you feel so strongly for him that my touch is now abhorrent to you?"
Elizabeth could not help but laugh. She turned an arch smile on Darcy's grim visage.
"I recall you saying once, during a heated discussion at Netherfield, that my greatest failing was to wilfully misunderstand people." She watched his lips twitch at the memory. "I would say we have a similar failing, Mr Darcy."
"You did not care for him?" he questioned further.
"I believed his story. Without question," she admitted, hanging her head in disgrace. "I felt a great deal of sympathy for his situation, condemning you as a villain without a second thought."
Elizabeth loathed to see the hurt in his eyes as she peered up at him. "I admired what I thought to be his honest and open nature, but I did not harbour any lasting tender feeling for him"
Jealously, anger, and joy warred upon Darcy's features.
"Then why?" he asked finally, unable to reconcile his conflicting emotions.
"Jane," she answered simply. "Your letter answered many of my objections - but not all to my satisfaction." She shifted slightly in his arms, taking the weight off her injured foot.
Darcy noticed her discomfort. "I have said this several times now, Miss Bennet, and we do not appear to have yet accomplished our task."
He glance down at her water soaked dress. "Talk as I help you to remove these wet clothes."
Elizabeth nodded her consent as Darcy's fingers looped into the sleeves of her dress, pushing them down gently. She relinquished her grip allowing him to ease the dress off.
"I concede that I was utterly taken in by Mr Wickham and allowed my partiality to blind me in several important matters. I do not believe, however, that I exaggerated your contemptuous attitude to those you consider your inferior and I do not agree with the high handed way in which you separated Mr Bingley and my sister."
Darcy had kept his eyes upon her face throughout her speech. She was keenly aware of her dress as it pooled around her feet in a swath of fabric, as she stood before him in only her - nearly transparent - undergarments.
Darcy supported Elizabeth's weight with one arm while reaching with the other for her blanket which he wrapped securely around her shoulders.
"Do you require assistance removing your petticoat?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.
"No," she replied too quickly, flushing with embarrassment. "But if would be so kind as to hold me up I will finish the task."
Her hands worked clumsily beneath the blanket to free herself from her garments. Darcy continued to support her, his eyes boring holes into her very soul. His gaze never once left her flushed face.
"I am aware," Darcy said, his Adam's Apple bobbing convulsively in his throat, "That my behaviour does not always endear me to those around me. I have been afflicted with shyness for as long as I can remember and, upon my mother and father's untimely deaths, I found myself the of master of Pemberley, a role I regrettably was most shamefully inadequately prepared for." Darcy paused, distracted, as Elizabeth shifted within his grasp, her heavy petticoats falling to the floor at their feet.
She clung desperately to the blanket around her as Darcy bent to lift her off her feet. Gently, he placed her back in the chair. A second blanket was unfolded and tucked snugly around her form. Looking down on her, Darcy hesitated a moment before stooping to place a tender kiss upon her forehead.
"Their deaths left me without anyone to moderate my behaviour. I was master to a grand estate, guardian to my young sister, and the new attraction to every scheming mama and desperate husband hunter in the Ton."
He sighed at the memory. "My shyness and reserved nature made me inept at dealing with the attention. I found myself becoming severe and aloof in an attempt to discourage their grasping behaviour. Within a quarter hour of my entering a room, the phrase "ten thousand a year" must have been muttered at least a dozen times within my hearing. I admit it made me bitter and judgemental, turning me away from the good principals my parents had installed within me as a child."
Elizabeth was lost in contemplation at his words. Having so little of it herself, she had never imagined before how wealth might negatively effect ones life.
Yes, she could understand his discomfort at being judged on wealth alone. Having witnessed the flurry of scheming mamas - including her own - when he first entered their small neighbourhood, she loathed to picture the reaction he would inspire in London society.
"I became accustomed to getting my own way - and found that it agreed with me." He smiled slyly at her. "Strangely, however, it was your mutiny against agreeing instantly with me, as so many others do, that drew me to you."
He placed a hand tenderly on her knee and squeezed it affectionately.
"You wit, your compassion, your passion - and your fine eyes... A combination of enticements I defy any sane man to resist." he locked eye's with her, pleading his sincerity in every look.
"You turned me inside out," he confessed. "I fought against it for as long as I could, at first barely aware what I was fighting against, so unaccustomed was I to any feelings of love or admiration." He shook his head in wry contemplation. "Once I had accepted that I felt something for you, I fought to maintain my distance so I could do what society and the Ton expect of me: to marry a lady of name and fortune - not the daughter of a country squire."
Elizabeth recoiled slightly at his words but admitted the truth in them. She was not a suitable candidate for the role of Mrs. Darcy. She knew little of London and its complicated social rules and obligations but, having the benefit of reading much of her father's library, she was aware that any wife he took would be expected to be a leading figure in that society. She would be most unequal to the task.
Her whit might endear her to her country neighbours but, judging by Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine's behaviour, it would not be so endearing the Ton. And, if the truth be told, she could not imagine living amongst an abundance of such critical petty mindedness with any amount of happiness.
"I found, however, any struggle to be a vain attempt of deception. My heart had tied itself to you," his voice broke into her musing. "Once I had accepted this, all my other objections fell away one by one."
"My parents, before their deaths, were deeply in love - which was all the more remarkable considering they were virtual strangers when they wed. As a boy I dreamed about having a marriage such as theirs, but as I grew older without their excellent example before me I resigned myself to having one of those cold marriages of convenience that are so common amongst the Ton. Falling in love love with you reminded me of what I had wished for as a young boy - and what I had been willing to sacrifice as a grown man."
"And, Elizabeth," his fingers brushed her chin, tilting her face up so she had to look into his eyes. "I do love you. Despite my abhorrent proposal last night, I am a man hopelessly, violently, and irreconcilably in love with you."
He smiled down at her. "So if, when we leave this place, you still feel the same as you did last night, I will understand. But I wanted you to understand that my feelings for you are now and will ever more be unchanged."
Elizabeth felt the sting of tears as she looked at the earnest man in front of her. Never had she imagined his feelings to be so strong. His impassioned speech, so heartfelt and raw, moved her beyond words.
She lent into his touch and he reacted instantly, his warm hand cradling her face. A single tear broke free, burning a hot trail down her cheek.
"Elizabeth," he breathed; longing and desire clung to every syllable.
Then Darcy was on his knees before her, his other hand capturing her face. He pulled her towards him. His lips just inches away, he hesitated.
"Elizabeth?" he asked, begging permission to close the distance between them. She answered him with her eyes, the desire there telling him everything he needed to know.
Elated, he closed the gap. He pulled her to him, cradling her small frame against his larger one. Her soft lips were tentative but Darcy could also taste the raw passion bubbling beneath her inexperience. Within seconds she began to respond, following his lead.
Darcy savoured her – the taste of her, the feel of her - only pulling away when his breath was almost spent. Even then he could not stop kissing her, he could not stop kissing her. He scattered light butterfly kisses along her jaw, savouring her soft skin and contented sighs.
He could not stay long away from her mouth. Soon he again claimed her mouth hungrily. This time Elizabeth did not hesitate; her mouth moved ravenously beneath his own. When his tongue touched her bottom lip, begging for admittance, she did not hesitate. Her lips parted and he devoured her mouth.
"DAAAAAARRRCCCCYYYYY!"
An angry voice growled his name, cooling his ardour faster than a bucket of cold water. Elizabeth too froze, a small, frightened gasp escaping her swollen lips. Together they turned to face a very angry Lady Catherine who stood in the cabin's open doorway.
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