Page 77 of All For You

He creased his forehead and narrowed his eyes, growing intrigued. “What sorts of memories were you thinking of?”

A magnetic charge pulsed between us, sparking gold and glowing around the edges. I couldn’t breathe. My chest was tight. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up. I felt the urgent need to be as close to him as I could get. His hair, his eyes, his mouth were all I could see, filling my world.

This wasit—the feeling I’d written about so many times, what I’d felt for a second when we’d kissed before we’d been interrupted by the dogs—blindingly exciting, consuming, scary.But however scared I was, fear couldn’t overwhelm my need to touch him. I needed to have him, be with him, be wrapped around him, and hear all his thoughts.

I stepped toward him and put my hands on the soft knit sweater hugging his wide, muscled shoulders. Standing on my toes, I moved my face up to his. Our lips were so close.

“Let’s make these kinds of memories,” I said, touching my lips to his and brushing softly back and forth.

A rustle sounded behind us. We both turned.

Mrs. Reynolds stood there, looking apologetic and embarrassed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir. There’s a phone call from your brother.”

CHAPTER 33

Darcy

An hour later, I found Lizzy talking on her phone in the small library. I knocked and waited at the open door. I loved seeing her here, amongst the old books and views of the topiary.

She lay on an old leather chair, her bare feet slung over the arm. She held up a finger for me to wait. “Okay, love you too. Bye. Come in,” she said. “Into your own library.”

“Hey,” I said.

“I just got off the phone with Jane. Thank you, Darcy. She said you made a lovely apology to her, and you’d talked to William, and then she and William spoke for ages. He’s going to drive up there tomorrow, and they’re going to spend the whole day together.”

Warmth unfurled, slow and sure. “It was the least I could do. Honestly, the very least.”

I moved closer to her.

She sat straighter in her chair and tucked her feet under her. “Jane is happy, and that makes me happy.”

“She and William are happy, and that makes me happy.”

She grinned at me, and I wanted to trace those little freckles on her nose and promise her I would do anything to make herhappy, always. I wanted to scoop her up and fold her into my lap, spend the rest of the night nuzzling her neck. Instead, I stood an arm’s length away, knowing I had to slowly build her trust again.

Mrs. Reynolds appeared. “Dinner will be served upstairs in half an hour, sir.”

CHAPTER 34

Lizzy

“Lizzy, why did you want to be a romance writer?” Darcy took a sip of wine and settled into his chair like he truly wanted to hear my answer.

Tabitha, Darcy, and I were having the most relaxing, wonderful dinner in a small study in Darcy’s apartments—duck, and potatoes, corn, tomatoes, and spinach from the estate gardens. He was a solicitous host, asking if the meal and wine were to our liking and if we were warm enough. I wondered if he’d asked one of the staff to move a table and chairs in there, so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed by the grandeur of even the apartments. If so, I appreciated his thoughtfulness. Maybe I could include that small gesture in my book, if the two characters’ social positions were as lopsided as ours.

Tabitha turned to hear my answer, even though we’d already talked about this, as she was a big reader of my books.

I rested my knife and fork on my plate. I tingled being under Darcy’s penetrating focus, and he made no effort to mask his keen interest in my reply.

“I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t scribbling down stories and making Jane and the neighbor kids act them out on the front lawn. When we’d have our grand performances—and, of course, charged the mums and dads for coming—the parents always clapped furiously, so I didn’t consider whether the storyline might be a bit rubbish. I mean, can your pet rabbit spin a gown as silken and glowing as gold?”

Darcy and Tabitha laughed.

“When did you publish your first book?” Darcy asked, leaning toward me.

“I studied writing at uni, where I met Charlie, who became my agent,” I explained to Darcy, because he hadn’t met her. “We both went on to work for the same publishing house. She sold my first book to our employer.”

“So things happened quickly for you,” he said. “But I’m sure it wasn’t as easy as all that?”