Page 56 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

But he just said goodnight. The way he said it and his posture as he did spoke eloquently of his effort at self-mastery. Lizzy loved it—and hated it.

Saying good night, she retreated to the bathroom and prepared for bed.

Contrary to her expectations, she fell asleep quickly, but she woke up a few hours later. She had been dreaming of the kiss with Darcy, and when she awoke from the dream, she was intertwined with her blankets and her pillow, a silky snarl of sweaty desire.

After fluffing her pillow, she lay there staring up at the shadowy ceiling, panting. As her breathing returned to normal, as she cooled, she heard a voice from the living room, although she couldn’t understand what was said. It was Darcy's voice…one side of a conversation.

Lizzy disentangled herself from her dream and her blankets and sat up. It was 1:17 a.m. She rose from the bed, tiptoed to the bedroom door, turned the doorknob soundlessly, and opened it a crack, peeking through.

"Listen,love," he was saying in a quiet but intent voice, emotional, "you know I'm always thinking about you. You’re always on my mind. I never forget you, I promise. I'm sorry I'm not there, too…that I’m not with you, and I can't hold you—but it can't be helped. I'm working. I shouldn't even be on the phone, shouldn't be making a personal call. That I am should show you how much I care. Youknowme." He was pleading, his tone all fondness and urgency.

Then he was silent for a moment, listening. He was in a T-shirt and boxers. It looked like he had yet to sleep; the sheet on the couch was smooth, the blanket still folded.

"I know, I know," he said patiently. "The nightmares are bad. But they're less frequent, aren't they? Good. That's progress. Eventually, they'll become rare, and then they'll be gone."

He was quiet again for a long time, listening, his head angled to one side. "Yes,” he said at last, “it's late here, and I do need to sleep. Find something to do, some other direction to turn your thoughts." Silence. "No, don't call me unless it's an emergency. Iwill try to call you again in a few days. Yes, yes. I love you too,so very much. Goodbye." His final words were so tender that Lizzy teared up as she carefully shut the door.

She tiptoed back to her bed and stretched out, trying to process what she had heard and seen. Darcy's voice had sounded familiar. The tenderness, the fondness…she had heard them before, earlier that evening. His refusal of her, of her offer of herself to him, had been spoken with that tenderness. That was why she had not felt rejected. He had saidno,but it was clear how much he wanted to sayyes.

That familiarity, that similarity was a two-edged sword, comforting and discomforting.Who was Darcy talking to? Who wasshe?Because it was ashe—Lizzy could tell that without hearing the voice on the other end of the call.

Her feelings were a jumble. She could not remember cycling through so much in so little time, a sprint through an emotional gauntlet. Blowing out a breath, she rolled onto her side and closed her eyes.

Opening them, she looked at the engagement ring on her finger, its small, bright gem. Try as she might, she could not divest the ring of significance, promise.It means something.

It was the last thing she saw as she drifted into sleep.

***

She woke to a soft rap on her bedroom door. "Lizzy, are you awake?" It was Darcy's voice, barely audible. She rolled onto her back and sat up, tugging on the blanket and holding it in place under her arms.

"Yes," she whispered back, making sure her voice was loud enough to be heard but no louder. Her heart rate elevated immediately, and she rubbed her eyes as he opened the chamber door.

His wavy hair was a tangle, and his stubble had darkened during the night, black in the bedroom shadows as he walked to her. He was still in his T-shirt and boxers. She expected him to stand at the foot of her bed and tell her whatever it was that had led him to disturb her. But he walked up to stand beside the head of the bed…on her side of the bed. When she reached over and clicked on the nightstand lamp, he looked tired, wan in its dim light. His lips were pressed in a hard line, an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual state.

"What is it, Fitzwilliam?" Lizzy hadn't planned to use his first name, but she did. It seemed to jolt him. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers fully extended, then fisted.

He took a slow, deep breath. There was a tremor in his voice as he spoke, a tremor that found an answer in her, head to toe. "I shouldn't be here. In your bedroom. Especially after what happened earlier tonight between us. But I can't sleep. I can't forget it. My struggle with myself has been in vain."

His eyes were dark in the shadows, but his gaze caused Lizzy to blush. She felt her chest and neck heat up. It almost felt as though they were starting to glow. “I—" He put out one hand but did not touch her, stopping just above the thin strap of her cami, just above her otherwise bare shoulder. His hand shook. She reached up and took it, her hand wrapping around the back of his, and she pressed it to her shoulder.

He inhaled sharply. "I have to tell you how, how…"?he searched for a word, trying to convey emotion and desire all at once, deep feeling and deep arousal?"...how I admire you, how much I want you. I've been in trouble since the first meeting with Kellynch, but I was too clueless to myself…"

She caressed the back of his hand. Her need for him was as great as it had been at the door. Greater now. Her skin felt inflammable, on the edge of flames, ready to conflagrate, and her breath was rapid, shallow.

He leaned down and pressed his lips ever so softly to hers, warm and wet, the kiss a marvel of mutual restraint. Her pulse deafened Lizzy, and Darcy's boxers showed that he was as affected as she, the hardness there a testament to the temperance in his soft kiss.

Then she remembered the overheard phone call. The woman. She pulled back from the kiss gently but far enough to look into his eyes, to see his face.

The gauntlet again. Her emotions.He is an intricate character.

Surprise showed in Darcy's eyes when he opened them, met her eyes, and she spoke. "Are you sure you wantme…or do you just wantsomeone? A stand-in?"

Her voice sounded kittenish, like her mother. She hadn’t meant to sound that way, not at all, but she did a little?coy and complaining all at once. Darcy unbent, stood straight, his tented boxers slowly collapsing.

"What?" He seemed lost. "Someone? A stand-in?" He repeated her words without appearing to understand them.

Lizzy was provoked.Why is he playing dumb? He must know what I mean. He was the one talking to another woman on the phone.

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