Page 74 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

I placed my hand on his heart.

The moment had come. No doubt could turn my words into mere gratitude or duty now. I was his wife because I had chosen him. I was naked in his arms, sore and happy, still free to speak the truth.

“I love you too, Fitzwilliam.”

He stopped breathing.

I raised my head.

“Did you hear?”

“I’m afraid to let myself believe…”

“I love you. I don’t know exactly when it started. Perhaps when you agreed to help me without forcing my hand. Perhaps when you comforted Kitty. Perhaps when you let me defend you instead of rushing at Wickham. But I know it now.”

His eyes shone.

“Say it again.”

“You’re becoming demanding.”

“Terribly so.”

I smiled and kissed him.

“I love you.”

This time, he believed me.

Chapter 22

Darcy

I woke before Elizabeth.

The gray light of dawn filtered through the curtains. She slept on her side, her face turned toward me, one hand resting near her mouth. Her hair spread across the pillow in disarray no one else would see. The blanket had slipped to her waist, revealing a bare shoulder and the curve of a breast.

My wife.

I had never felt such profound joy, nor such immediate fear of losing her.

The previous night returned in fragments: her courage, her pleasure under my touch, the pain I could not spare her, her legs around me, the words spoken after.

I love you.

I had heard them. Yet part of me still feared they had been wrung from her by the emotion of the moment. Elizabeth did not lie, but she could be mistaken about herself. She had been before. So had I.

She opened her eyes.

“You’re watching me.”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Long enough to fear you’ll find me unsettling.”

“I found you unsettling long before I married you.”