Page 67 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“I’ll see to your comfort.”

My father walked me to the front steps.

“Be happy, my daughter.”

“I will be.”

“And remind him from time to time that he is not always right.”

Darcy, behind me, replied:

“I’m counting on her never to forget it.”

The carriage carried us toward London, where we would spend two nights before continuing on to Pemberley.

For the first few minutes, we watched Longbourn disappear. Then I found myself alone with my husband in the close confines of the carriage.

My husband.

The word sent a shiver through me that did not escape Darcy.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little.”

“Do you regret it?”

I turned my head sharply.

“That’s the third question in less than a minute.”

“I promised to ask.”

“You promised to listen to me, not to interrogate me all the way to London.”

He smiled, but the worry didn’t leave his eyes.

I removed my glove and laid my hand on his cheek.

“I regret nothing.”

He closed his eyes against my palm.

“Elizabeth…”

“Kiss me, Fitzwilliam.”

This time, he didn’t ask again.

His mouth claimed mine with an ardor he’d been holding back since morning. He drew me closer until my hip pressed against his. The sway of the carriage added a dizzying instability to our embrace. I felt his desire pressing against my thigh, immediate and undeniable.

He pulled away with a muffled groan.

“We still have several hours on the road.”