Page 53 of Homeless

He blinked. “I thought under the circumstances —”

“That is the trouble with you, husband of mine. You never give yourself the bother of thinking. You simply act and expect me to go along with whatever fool idea you have got into your head! Why, I recall your mother saying precisely the same thing when we first talked of leaving England. ‘My son is a lackwit,’ she said, no softening it at all, and she made me promise to see that your shirts were always pressed because you would forget, and that you never manage to salt your beef properly. And your father, I think you will soon go bald as he did. Moreover, I —”

What was she on about, raving about his parents? And… and pressing his shirts? And his father was never bald. No Darcy had ever been bald, and…Oh.

Finally, he understood. He was still holding his jaw while she rattled on in English nonsense. The words were not the point. But as she scolded him, he noticed that the men had started to back off. Two of them nudged each other and then shook their heads. A couple more laughed and pointed at him.

“¡Ja! Esa sí es su esposa. Ninguna otra le pegaría así.”

Darcy caught “esposa”, and he caught the laughter. That would have to be good enough. He grabbed Elizabeth’s elbow again and marched her towards the village proper. This time, they were not followed, but he could still feel a dozen pairs of eyes at his back.

“Did they touch you?”

“No. You closed the bidding before it came to that.”

“Then why the devil did you slap me?”

He heard a brief chuckle. “Why, Mr Darcy, what English husband would ever dare to kiss his wife in public? And what wife in Spain, which is the only sort of wife they know, would let her husband take such a liberty without setting him in his place?”

His steps slowed. “I should be appalled that the notion of violence came to you so quickly. You appear to have convinced them, but I shall have a devilish bruise on my face tomorrow.”

“Not yet.”

“What? Of course, I shall. I can feel the heat rising in it alrea —”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. “No, I mean, they are not entirely convinced yet. You mean to have some respect in this town, yes? File papers, find people to answer your questions?”

“Indeed. Why?”

They had rounded a corner, only partially blocking the view of the arrabal. She tugged at his elbow to stop him, her eyes shifting between his face and the men in the square, who were still watching them with more than casual interest. “Right now, all they see is a humiliated husband. If you want any standing at all in this town…”

She grabbed his lapels and pulled him down to her. And Elizabeth Bennet was kissing him — fully, her teeth scraping his lips, pressing hard against his jaw as she hung from his coat with her full weight. It was inexpert, rough, and not altogether pleasant, but egad…

Something was happening to his body that would have mortified him, had he any sense in his head. But sense had gone the way of his breath, and his breath was so far lost to him that he might have crumpled at her feet, if she had not released him when she did.

He rubbed his mouth and stared at her. “What was that, then? Who were you trying to convince with that bloody poor show?”

“Poor show! I shall have you know, Mr Darcy, there are presently at least seven men staring at your back and wishing they could be so lucky. A husband whose wife pulls him into the shadows for a secret embrace should count himself fortunate!”

“After said wife just slapped him in full view?”

“Especially then! No self-respecting wife would let such a thing pass, but if she valued her husband at all, she would take him away and make her amends. Preferably in imperfect privacy, so that his honour might not be damaged.”

He snorted. “If that was your ploy, you did a shoddy job of it. A real wife would know how to kiss her husband rather than bruise him.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I… I gave you a proper —”

“You kissed me like you meant to bite me, and perhaps you did. Have you never… oh, Good Lord, they are still staring at us. Come on.” He hooked his arm through hers and fairly tugged her feet after himself.

XX

Another Dead End

“Damnation!” Elizabeth swatted the back of her neck. “Blast these midges.”

Darcy glanced up from the coins he had spread out on the bed with more than mild disapproval. “If I had known you meant to take up profanity, I might have had second thoughts about paying such a price for you. You are a rather poor influence, madam.”

She swatted her arm again, then turned her hand over to show him the mangled insect. “If you are not swearing by Heaven and all that is under it that these things are a curse on humanity, then I can only assume you are wearing thicker clothing. How are you not covered in bites by now?”