This update is not an official new chapter (sorry) but rather a mediocre apology for being literally THE WORST at updating. It's a little bit of fluff that doesn't fit into this point in the story, but I wanted to publish it temporarily as a thank you for those who've stuck with me. I am working on an official new chapter that will hopefully be done soon.
This would take place after the point at which Lizzie and Darcy are engaged and have set out for a walk from Longbourn with Bingley and Jane.
Enjoy and leave a comment if you're so inclined!
It was not long until the two sets of lovers became separated. When they were out of sight from the house and well beyond range of prying eyes, Darcy lifted her hand to his lips. Though it was but a paltry gesture that could only express a fraction of his feelings, he had been waiting for an opportunity such as this. Their engagement was but one week old and the many social obligations such an event engendered were only compounded by the felicity two such advantageous events in the same family. For both the Bennet sisters, time alone with their respective fiancées had been but little.
As he lingered over the contact, he couldn't help but think that he wished to do more so much more; he specifically imagined it was her lips he kissed for his mind was all too ready to supply other imminently kissable parts of her body as substitute. Almost as if she read his thoughts, he smiled to see an answering flush grow over her face. Her mouth twitched up slightly at the corners before she looked down. Otherwise, he could discern little of her feelings. He worried instantly she thought him too forward though it was but a reflection of the same action undertaken by her on the morning they'd found each other in the mist.
Since then, what little opportunity they had for small gestures of affection were taken by her initiative almost exclusively. Small, secret smiles and lingering looks; the warmth and pressure of her hand on his arm or surreptitiously seeking his when they sat together; her fingers grazing his softly under the guise of passing dishes of food at meals; all of these and more he longed to repeat but felt unequal to doing so.
He wondered if she could discern the affect she had on him in these moments; his heart tripping upon a hesitant smile, his eyes settling on her mouth when she spoke, his body instantly stirring in response to hers whenever she was near. All of this happened with much more frequency than she could possibly suspect.
A few days prior, whilst watching a musical performance at the Meryton assembly hall, she had moved to stand in front of him at the edge of the room rather than sitting with her family due to a lack of chairs; an innocent decision but for the fact the room was crowded and she was forced to stand closer than propriety would normally allow. Fortunately, those in attendance had focused their attentions on the musicians. Swallowing hard, he'd been unable to keep himself from leaning toward her slightly to inhale the scent of her, staring down at the beautiful curve of her neck so close. He sighed quietly, exhaling warm breath over her skin. Nearly overcome with desire, he angled his body then raised his hand and touched her back lightly with his fingertips on the skin just above the lowered back of her dress. She started slightly at the unexpected touch, turning her head toward him in surprise. Before he thought better of it, he traced a line across to her spine, reveling in the touch. She trembled and flushed, swallowing hard as the back of his knuckles grazed over the fabric of her dress down to her waist. As he forced himself back to his original position lest they be exposed, Lizzie reached back impulsively to catch his hand, her fingers groping for his. He caught them just as they brushed against his hip, dangerously close to touching the front of his breeches. Inhaling sharply, he squeezed her hand before attempting to release it; she responded by pulling him closer, sandwiching their hands together behind her back with a surprisingly strong grip.
If asked, he doubted he could recall anything at all about the performance itself. He was too lost in the haze of their longing and in his observations of both the exquisite delicacy of the color blooming in her cheeks, and the heaving of her chest as she attempted to calm her own reactions. It fascinated him that she was also powerfully affected by his nearness. The evidence of her arousal both comforted and tortured him.
In company, however, his natural reserve returned and he found it difficult at times even to speak without prompting. During those moments, he was more thankful than ever for the innate understanding Elizabeth began to show of his character. It seemed she could sense him becoming awkwardly tongue-tied and would ask questions or make comments that prompted him to talk about books or Pemberley or his sister; subjects even he could speak about easily. Though he gave her grateful looks at these times, he began to wonder if she would grow tired of what might appear to be a one sided relationship.
The silence grew heavier with his unease. He began searching about for something to say, knowing she could hardly come to his rescue this time. Finally, the corner of her mouth quirked up again in a shy smile and she bit her lip, flexing the fingers still entrapped by his hand.
"I fear I'm still not quite accustomed to that, sir," she admitted bashfully. He breathed in relief and laughed softly.
"Then you do not find it unpleasant?"
"Unpleasant? Certainly not. I didn't mean to give you that impression." He chuckled again as she continued. "Perhaps unsettling… or perhaps a little too pleasant." His smile widened.
"I must admit I cannot but find that reassuring, Elizabeth," he teased back before pretending to marshal his expression. "That you do not find it unpleasant, I should say." He kissed her hand again, lingering still longer before deliberately returning her hand to its original place on his sleeve. Her blush deepened once again but her eyes held his gaze. Their steps had long since faltered and Darcy knew he should cease his attentions. Thankfully, a rumble of thunder sounded causing them both to look to the sky. When he glanced back, her expression was a mask of discontent.
"Oh, dear. I had rather hoped we'd have more time before the rain returned," she murmured with a sigh.
"More time… Surely you don't mean time alone, Miss Elizabeth? You trust me so far as that?" He tapped the fingers of his free hand upon those he had just kissed and, finding them still cool to the touch, covered her fingers with his, ostensibly to warm them. He was inordinately thankful she was the sort of woman who regularly eschewed the use of gloves. The secondary benefit of this intimacy could have been incidental except for the warmth in his eyes. She colored yet again and grinned, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze that stirred his blood.
"I should think I would not marry a man I could not trust. Such a match would be very imprudent for one with my disposition, I fear." She ducked her head and glanced at him from under her lashes. Now he felt heat warm his own cheeks and fought to keep from grinning madly.
As he considered the distinct pleasure of experiencing a flirtatious Elizabeth, he knew a growing certainty that he'd never smiled so much in his life.
Though they were hardly skirting the boundaries of proper behavior in playful conversation, he was surprised to find this side of her every bit as charming as her impertinence. The subtle art of flirtation had never come easily to him in the past but with her it came almost naturally and he marveled at the novelty. She bit her lip again, seemingly speechless; the action drew his eyes to her mouth and he knew a sudden reluctance to hasten their return to the decorum they must observe amongst company.
"We may turn back if you wish, but I know you do not normally to allow so small an obstacle as the weather to deter you," he said, thinking of the morning she first came to Netherfield through the damp and mud for her sister. Of course, his mind also flitted to the only other time he'd come upon her in the rain but he continued before the memory could take hold. "I believe you know I am not afraid of rain either, my love." Her eyes softened and became momentarily dreamy. It was the first time he dared address her in such tender terms. His heart jumped again when she raised her other hand to his arm and laced their fingers together as they resumed walking.
"That is fortunate news indeed, for I would also find it difficult to marry a man afraid of so little a thing as rain," she replied, turning a look of such delight upon him, the rest of the world could very well have disintegrated around him and he none the wiser.
They continued in this way for some time, talking about whatever came to mind and trading hesitant looks of love and tender sentiments that began to express the depth of their feelings. Elizabeth related childhood stories to him as they passed familiar landmarks, including a tree she'd fallen out of as a girl; the result of which was a sprained wrist and the loss of her first tooth.
As they circled the far end of what Elizabeth affectionately called Longbourn Lake, an unannounced shower of no little strength began.
"This way!" she shouted over the din, seizing his hand, "Here is a chance to prove your bravery!" She ran ahead of him, keeping hold of his hand behind her as she led them to shelter under a large tree. As they approached, he realized it was quite possibly the very tree under which he had once hidden from her over a year ago.
As they stopped, she turned to him with a familiar mischief in her eyes, her hand still in his.
The inertia of their mad dash to cover and her unexpected halt caused their bodies to collide gently. He froze, conscious that this was unquestionably close to gross impropriety. In the same instant, she realized it too; her smile faded and her mouth fell open. Even with hair plastered to her forehead, she was so beautiful it took his breath away. Of its own accord, his head began to lower. With great effort, he forced himself to take a few steps back but could not resist raising his free hand to brush locks of sodden hair from her forehead.
"Well done, Mr. Darcy," she exhaled shakily, releasing him to remove her bonnet. "You've both braved the rain and avoided temptation." She swallowed hard. "Though… I believe this is now the second time we've been caught in the rain together." Her face grew pensive as she wrung rainwater from the bonnet's ribbons and draped it over a nearby bush.
His brows drew together at the gravity of her expression. Earlier in their walk he had felt there was something weighing on her mind but couldn't glimpse its nature. The fact that the source of her discontent was his failed first proposal filled him with dread. He could feel the natural reserve begin to take hold and fought to keep his expression from closing up. An unmistakable feeling of the past repeating itself overwhelmed him.
"Yes," he agreed hesitantly with increasing discomfort. He remained silent as she stared at her hands with an unreadable look. At last, she looked up with eyes full of tears.
"Do you remember that day in Kent? Of course you do," she began slowly. "Do you remember what we said? How thoroughly we abused each other in all our misconceptions?" She gave a pained smile but he sensed an underlying tension in her words that gave him further pause. Did she desire an apology after so much time? In their newfound happiness, he had hoped all previous misunderstandings could be forgotten.
"I try not to remember that day." When he did, the echo of pain resounded with an enveloping force that left him as breathless as it had when her refusal was still fresh. Even within the confirmed state of their engagement, the memory made his chest ache; a phantom reminder of the awful grief and consuming anger he'd carried for months. He felt there was little to be gained by revisiting that catastrophe.
But he waited.
"We both thought we knew the other so well…" she whispered. "Do you remember what you said?"
"Elizabeth, there's no need to d—"
"Please." She hissed the word with such fervor that he stopped. "Do you remember?" He exhaled heavily.
"At what point? I said many things. All of them thoughtless and ill-tempered." She shook her head, her expression distracted.
"You... you thanked me for explaining my refusal. It was so unexpected; I remember it exactly." She swallowed. "You said, 'perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked had not'— "
"—Not your pride been hurt by my honesty in admitting scruples about our relationship'. I haven't forgotten," he finished hurriedly, a bitter taste filling his mouth at the words. "Then I asked if you expected me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances. You'd have been right to slap me." The ghost of a smile touched her lips at this, but her countenance remained miserable. He could think of nothing to say that might bring the subject to a close without hurting her. "I certainly felt as though you had slapped me when you asked if those were the words of a gentleman."
"Yes. 'And those are the words of a gentleman?'" She parroted numbly, now seemingly reluctant to continue the charade. She stared into the middle distance, remembering the next words. "'From the moment I met you your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others…" She trailed off as a tear ran down her cheek.
"—Made me the last man in the world you could ever be prevailed upon to marry." He looked at the ground, unable to meet her eye, wondering how he could have been so blind, so cruel. "And rightfully so. Forgive me, Elizabeth," he whispered, closing his eyes. He wanted to touch her, to take her hand and kiss it again, reassure both of them that he still had the right to do so.
A soft touch on his cheek made him flinch slightly. Her hand upon his face felt cool and electrifying at the same time.
"No," she stated firmly. "I am the one who must beg forgiveness." Another tear joined the first. "I never should have said… I didn't know you as I do now and I wasted so much time despising you for nothing. I thought I knew you. I was so wrong…"
"Oh Lizzie, don't cry. It is not worth your tears." He brushed the drops away with his thumbs, curving his palms to her face, forgetting all propriety and distance. "How could I not forgive you? What did you say of me that was not true and well deserved at that? Nothing could have saved me so well as your reproofs. I feel as though an entirely different man spoke those words and I know I am better for having earned your affections. You're more than forgiven." Mesmerized, he finally understood her purpose. Now they each fully recognized how haunted the other had been by the words and actions of that day. For both, the memory would now symbolize so much more than unnecessary grief. At last, her smile strengthened though it remained a far cry from her usual effervescence.
"Everything has changed now. We have both changed, I think. Someday we may even laugh at our foolishness but I couldn't let it go unaddressed—" He shook his head, dismissing her explanation as unnecessary.
"It's all right. I understand now." For a moment he couldn't speak for the emotion welling inside him. "You – you are a remarkable woman, Elizabeth Bennet. It's no small wonder that I love you." Her face flushed at the compliment and he felt the heat against his hands. He smiled fully, thinking he'd never felt closer to her.
"I remember something else about that day," she admitted after a moment, searching his eyes. He paused again, this time troubled by her look of determination. "Something that nearly happened. Even after everything we said, you… before you turned to leave…" She trailed off as a her skin heated yet again. Unable to continue, her eyes dropped to his mouth and suddenly he knew what she remembered.
He had nearly kissed her that day. Even after her refusal, the sting of angry words and the breaking of his heart, he'd wanted her. Just once, he'd wanted to feel her lips against his, make her understand a fraction of his passion for her before all was lost.
Now, in their haste to comfort each other, their proximity was just as close as they had stood that day and once again she was staring at his mouth.
"Kiss me." She breathed it so quietly he might have imagined it amidst the soft pattering of rain on leaves.
"Elizabeth—!" The name was uttered like a curse. He dropped his hands and stepped back in shock.
"I – I w– wanted you to… that day," she went on haltingly, her expression full of a hunger that tugged at him. "I didn't realize until later of course that I was… I was just as attracted to you as you were to me. I didn't know what it meant until… it was too late. But even when I thought I loathed you… the way you looked at me," she swallowed, "… if you had kissed me, I would have known I was far from indifferent. I couldn't have, wouldn't have been so cold to you." She took a step toward him, her hands raising uncertainly. He threw up his own as if to block her.
"Stop. You know not what you ask. I cannot. We are not yet married." In his surprised haste, the words came out harshly, formally, like a reprimand. Her expression fell a bit, eyebrows quirking together in confusion at the strength of his denial.
"But we will be. We will be married. I know it must seem terribly wanton of me to ask, but ... I thought—" she blinked, chin trembling, "I thought we could make a new memory together. One without heartbreak. That we could replace the pain with something good… something else," she finished lamely. Slowly, her features crumpled in pain. A choked sound escaped as she turned away. He felt frozen as she quietly brushed away tears before gathering herself. When she turned back, her expression was cold and aloof. Her eyes met his briefly as though she regarded a stranger. A long minute passed with her eyes on the ground as her posture stiffened and features hardened. He floundered for something to say, something to bring back the intimacy they'd shared just a moment ago. "You're right, of course," she bit out finally. "It is improper. How foolish of me to think that—" She shook her head violently and locked her gaze on the ground.
"Elizabeth, please, I– " But the words wouldn't come. How had he let this happen? He fought an internal war in himself, frozen with discomfort.
"We should return to the house." With jerky movements, she snatched up her bonnet and strode past him.
"No– Elizabeth, wait!" he said in his most commanding tone. She stopped but did not face him. At last he was spurred into action. He knew he must overcome his natural reticence if they were to have the sort of union he desired. More than anything, he never, ever wanted to give her reason to look at him in that manner again.
With a deep fortifying breath, he gripped her arms and turned her to face him.
"Look at me," he whispered gently. "Please, Lizzie."
"I'd rather not, sir. You've made it perfectly clear you do not desire me at all," she spat heatedly.
"That is not true," he growled, shaking her lightly with his words. She blinked up at him as rain fell into her eyes. He guided her back under the tree impatiently. "For God's sake, Lizzie… All I do is desire you! Can you not tell?" She looked at him, finally, in surprised puzzlement. "Every minute of every hour of every day I want you…in every way possible, Lizzie… and I know you feel it." He loosened his grip on her arms. "You don't know what it means to me to have your trust," he paused, searching for the right words, he continued slowly, willing her to listen, "so I... I would have you understand what I meant. And it's not that I don't want you... It's that–– I am a man violently in love and I cannot– I dare not trust myself. I fear being tempted too far and you are… innocent." His face grew hot as he recalled precisely what acts his temptation had led him to behold in the past. How could he tell her he made passionate love to her every night in his dreams and had been doing so before and certainly ever since the moment they met? How could he possibly make her understand that he desired her so much he did not trust himself to stop at a mere kiss? "I have desired you for so long... I'm afraid–"
"I'm not!" Her hands raised between them, slapping softly against his chest. "I am not afraid of you! I do trust you, Fitzwilliam, even if you do not trust yourself. As for innocence–" she pressed her lips together, fighting embarrassment. "My experience may be limited, but I'm not entirely naïve. Many young couple in love allow this. Some even anticipate their vows entirely." Her eyes widened now at the implication. "I– I mean to say, I'm not suggesting that we– that er… that we do that," he couldn't help smiling at this, "But… does it count for nothing that I love you as ardently as you love me?" She said the last so simply with no prevarication or hesitation; it was the first time she had voiced her feelings for him so precisely. He stared, unable to help the surprised sound that escaped him then resultant of the unspeakable joy that filled him at her words.
"You love me? Truly?"
"I do! I love you. Most ardently," she said smilingly, just as he had once said to her.
As he gazed deeply into her eyes, he saw that she meant it. He recognized, too, an emotion he knew was mirrored in himself — fear. Fear of a love so overwhelming it gave each of them the ability to hurt the other irrevocably. And he knew he would not deny her again. He strove to keep his tone light even as his arousal grew.
"Very well, Lizzie. Remember, I tried to warn you."
Slowly, he bent to rest his forehead against hers as he had once before. Her fingers tightened on his cravat, pulling him incrementally closer her as her breath hitched and grew more shallow under his regard. This time their eyes stayed open until he angled his face slightly and pressed a soft kiss to her lips just as a flash of lightning rent the sky. A concentrated shower of drops fell through the canopy of their shelter as a bird was startled into flight above them. Lizzie gasped against his lips; it was impossible to tell whether her surprise stemmed from the subsequent crash of thunder, the cold water, or the intimate sensation.
Her lips were immeasurably softer than imagined and his breath stilled to keep even that necessity from trespassing on the moment. Her potency was even stronger than he anticipated; he couldn't bring himself to break the connection. The tender pressure of her mouth affected him deeply, warming his soul like the first sip of the world's finest brandy. He realized now why he had instinctively limited extended contact with her in all but the most innocent sense for the same reasons he'd attempted to explain. Energy sparked between them with a heat that quickly outstripped his control.
Though he began by pointedly holding his body away from her, she seemed to unknowingly possess the secret means of spelling his destruction. The thunder made her move closer to him and now she made a sound of wonder in her throat that burned a path straight to his loins. Her hands clutched at the lapels of his coat with weak tugs before she rose on her toes and slid them around his neck, their mouths still fused together. Each second that passed further shredded what remained of his good judgment until finally, he shifted to take her bottom lip between his own and suckled gently, causing her to whimper again.
When she lost her balance, swaying back on her heels, Darcy forced himself to remain still, allowing their lips to part. His eyes opened slowly, weighted with reluctance and drugged with desire. When he was able to focus, his body tightened further at the sight before him. Her lips parted unconsciously and were rosy with the same color that marked her cheeks. Her eyes too were clouded and heavy, her fists balled loosely on his chest; the warmth of her breath fanned enticingly across his face. Their faces were so close he saw for the first time the flecks of gold at the edge of her irises. She held his gaze as they breathed together. The combination was devastating to his senses.
Moments passed as they stared into each other's eyes, marveling over an inexpressible sense of familiarity that passed between them. He warred between knowing they should return to the house and wanting desperately to kiss her senseless. The longing in her he recognized easily from the oft-suppressed recesses of his mind to which the dreams had been relegated. He could tell she had not been prepared for the strength of what had passed between them and this evidence of her innocence struck a chord in him, belying her earlier statement. An unseemly and primitive possessiveness stole through in him at her untouched state; he would be the first and only man to know her.
Her eyes focused again on his mouth and he knew with utter certainty two things; that she wanted him to kiss her again, and that he was lost.
"I must ask your forgiveness after all," he murmured, feeling far less regret at the prospect than he should. "I have no resistance to you." Their lips met hurriedly as this time his hands found her hips and clenched there in a hopeless effort to prevent further exploration.
But Elizabeth was not to be satisfied. Her arms encircled him as she rose up and stepped toward him, effectively molding their bodies together. He gave in and embraced her fully, banding his arms across her back and holding on like a drowning man as she kissed him over and over, pressing their lips together with a force he feared would cause harm. In the interest of preventing injury, he told himself, he attempted to slow her zeal by cupping her face gently in his hands.
He pulled back a few inches, spying an almost comical look of deprivation on her countenance that made him smile. Then he angled his head the other way and began anew, slowly and with an achingly soft touch. She melted into him until she hung in his arms, letting him set a languid pace as his lips toyed with hers until she trembled. When he judged her to be ready, when her lips had parted slightly, he ran his tongue along them, coaxing her mouth open tenderly until a moan issued from deep in her throat.
Darcy answered with a cry of his own when her tongue darted to caress his uncertainly. Everything in him narrowed to that erotic glide of lips and tongue, rough and smooth, soft and moist. Each discovery came sweeter than the last and he knew he would cheerfully live on nothing but such a kiss for the whole of his life. His fingers slid back into her hair, becoming tangled as the kiss deepened. Her shyness dissipated rapidly and soon it seemed as though he held the fully experienced woman from his dreams matching his passion with her own.
When her legs began to quiver with strain beneath her, he lifted her in his arms and set her atop a sturdy, low-hanging branch nearby, pausing briefly at her gasp of shock. His chest heaved as he met her eyes that were now slightly higher than his own. She bit her lip uncertainly. They had reached a point of no return; there was a vast difference between kisses and everything else between a man and a woman. Now that the flood gate was opened, he felt powerless against the desire he'd held so long in check.
But he waited once again.
His hands rested on the rough bark on either side of her hips. Her hands rested on his shoulders.
"Lizzie…" he whispered softly. "We can…" She shook her head faintly.
"Shhh…" Her fingers pressed against his lips. He caught them against his mouth and kissed them, watching her face closely as he flicked his tongue out to taste. Her mouth fell open on a gasp when he licked the inside of her delicate wrist. Even as his mind screamed that he should stop, his body disobeyed as his other hand left the bark to settle on her knees, which were pressed primly together. Wordlessly, he asked her to trust him still further as he nudged her knees gently apart. Silently, he stepped between the open vee of her thighs, trailing his hand up over the skirt of her dress to her hip, dizzy with force of his need for her. The alarm bells clanged even more forcefully as he recklessly began to kiss her again from this position with his body pressed lightly against her.
Lizzie moaned again as she felt the evidence of his arousal touch her intimately, knowing all that separated them now was layers of cloth. How easy it would be, he thought, to dispose of even those barriers. As their kiss deepened again, she wrapped her legs around him pressing them even more tightly together, hips moving against him subtly. He felt he would go mad without some relief and thrust against her gently. Her fingers played against his scalp, alternately pulling and smoothing his hair mindlessly. He tore his mouth from hers and began to nibble along the side of her neck, urged on by her breathy gasps. He feathered kisses along her collarbone before making his way back to her lips, thinking she tasted like home after many months abroad. As their tongues wove together again, his hand drifted down and under her arm until his fingers found her breast.
She cried out softly as his fingers kneaded gently through the layers of fabric, teasing with the breadth of his palm. He was consumed with this realization of a vision he'd once had of ravishing her, running his fingers across the lacy border of her bodice before sliding his fingers beneath while he supped on the creamy feast of her skin. He moaned again as his fingertips grazed the soft skin of her chest and dipped his fingers down and down until he felt the hard nub of her nipple against the back of his fingers. He rubbed against it gently before squeezing it hard between his fingers.
Elizabeth jerked, making a sharp sound of shock that cut directly through the haze of passion. His head snapped up as he realized what he'd done. He stepped back from her abruptly, snatching his hands away as though burned. Hastily he turned away, allowing several minutes to pass while he caught his breath as revulsion quickly replaced ardor. Finally, he made himself look at her where she still sat on the branch of the tree. Her hair and dress were disheveled, her mouth red and swollen, chest heaving.
She looked stunned, surprised, and yes, a bit shocked. She had asked him for a simple kiss and he had been inches away from taking her on the branch of a tree. What must she think of him now?
"Elizabeth, forgive me, I—" He stopped, feeling thoroughly ashamed and ridiculous for repeating himself but this time making a serious request for forgiveness.
"No…" She shook her head before he could continue and his heart squeezed painfully, thinking she meant she could not forgive him. "Do not say you are sorry. Do not ask for forgiveness again. There is nothing to forgive." She stared at him, then heaved what sounded like a contented sigh and began to straighten her clothing. If anything, he thought she looked somewhat disappointed. With him?
"But I—I took advantage of you," he mumbled. She seemed to consider his words for a moment, pursing her lips and looking up at the sky before hopping down and stepping away from the tree.
"Yes, I suppose you did," she allowed at last, reaching up to tidy her hair. "But only after I asked you to do so. And it was wonderful. Fortunately, only you and my future husband are privy to my disgrace. Or should it be our disgrace?" Casually, she plucked up her bonnet where it had fallen and replaced it with a deft hand, expertly tying the ribbons under her chin as she approached him, grinning madly. Inhaling deeply, she once more took his hands firmly between her own. "I must say, Mr. Darcy, I am surprised. I think it must be true what they say about still waters. It's a shame we cannot test their depth yet."
He stared at her, flabbergasted. She wasn't disappointed in his conduct; she was disappointed they had to stop. He was sure if he thought about that too long, he might explode. Before he recovered the ability to speak, she continued.
"You place entirely too much censure on yourself, Fitzwilliam, more than anyone I have ever known," she told him gently. "I told you once that I refused to let you alarm me and that, at least, is a part of my character that remains unchanged. If you must reproach your behavior, reproach mine as well, for only together did we do this. And for my part… I cannot feel repentant," she finished wickedly, giving his hands a squeeze.
He laughed softly as he realized she meant to shock him with her talk. Two could play at that game.
"Remarkable," he murmured, alluding to his earlier compliment. "I love you, Lizzie. But I cannot help but think it best we not…" he swallowed, "kiss again until after we are wed... though we need not worry our wedding night will be dull."
She laughed and looked at him in flushed surprise and he knew he'd played his part well. Still, she and rose on her toes and kissed him anyway, sliding her arms around him beneath his open coat as she did so. He groaned as she pressed herself against him again, her lips trailing over his chin and across his jaw. He gripped her upper arms gently and forcibly removed her from his person before he lost all reason.
"Ah- best to avoid that as well."
"You called me 'Lizzie'," she said, improbably delighted. He blushed, knowing he'd been caught out. After all, he'd been thinking of her as such for longer than he dared admit.
"Yes," he allowed after a moment. She arched one eyebrow.
"It's good I like being called 'Lizzie'."
"And you called me Fitzwilliam, which... is my name," he pointed out stupidly with a smile. It was her turn to blush as her eyes were drawn once again to his lips.
"True. What was that about no kissing?" He started to repeat himself until he realized she was teasing again.
"We should– Er… Honestly, I'm not sure I recall now," he murmured teasingly. She laughed heartily at this.
"I thought not." She kissed him again, her lips firm against his before pulling herself away.
"Now that's settled," she sighed, "and the rain has stopped," he looked up in surprise, noting she was right, "we had best return before Mama sends out a party to search for our remains." He chuckled and turned their steps in the direction of Longbourn.