Darcy thought she looked stunning in the dark green silk creation she had chosen to wear that evening. It was elegant and tasteful while showing off her curves in a most flattering manner, making him conscious of the fact that he had not been alone with her for days. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to pull her into his arms and press his lips to her mouth. The emerald and diamond necklace he had given her was beautifully displayed against her creamy breasts. He swallowed hard and repressed a powerful urge to reach out his hand and caress her, to take both soft globes in his mouth and make her moan with pleasure. God, but I want her! How am I ever going to make it through this damned evening without touching her? Darcy could already tell he would fail miserably and, terrified he would soon take to acting upon his forbidden impulses, ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Darcy’s eyes bored into her with a searing heat that reached all the way to her inner depths, causing Elizabeth to flush each time she met his gaze.
Throughout the evening Darcy struggled to remain a gentleman, keeping the physical contact between Elizabeth and him to a minimum, but by the commencement of the second act, he was almost at his wits’ end. Throughout the entire first act he had not been able to tear his gaze from her at all. He had found himself mesmerized by the small smile that played across her lips and the sparkle in her eyes as she watched the actors perform on stage. He observed the steady rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed and the way her tresses bounced when she laughed. She was sitting in the corner of the box, to his right, and, deducing that very little would be discerned by anyone else in their party in the darkened interior of the theatre, he slowly slid his fingertips along the contour of Elizabeth’s leg.
He felt her body tense. She closed her eyes, and Darcy repeated the action, watching her lips part and her breathing become more rapid. He felt an immediate tightening in his trousers as he observed the swell of her breast, and his own breathing increased. Impulsively, he took her hand and placed it in his lap, over his arousal. Her eyes flew open, and he began to stroke the length of her arm with agonizing slowness.
Finally, Elizabeth turned her head and met Darcy’s intense gaze. She felt a deep pull within her and an insistent throbbing between her legs, which made her long to run her fingers over his erection. It suddenly seemed far too long since she had last felt his touch, but this was not the place to act upon such desire. She swallowed hard and fought it, finally succeeding in pulling her arm from Darcy’s grasp. He seemed unwilling to relinquish her easily, giving in only after Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned forward in his seat and pointedly cleared his throat.
Against his better judgment, Darcy continued to try his hand at coercing Elizabeth throughout the remainder of the play.
Shortly before the play was to end, she had finally had more than she felt she could possibly bear, and rose from her seat under the pretense of getting some much-needed fresh air. She brushed past Bingley and Jane on her way out of the box. They hardly noticed.
Not half a minute later, she heard Darcy’s voice call to her. She was but halfway down the grand staircase and stopped to wait for him. He was carrying her new fur pelisse and gloves, as well as his own coat, gloves, and hat. When they reached the entrance, he eased the pelisse to her shoulders, and his fingertips lingered. With Darcy’s hot breath upon her neck, Elizabeth began to fasten the clasps, and a feeling of unease descended upon her. She found herself thinking of Georgiana and the conversation they had earlier in the afternoon. Her discomfort with the situation increased. Elizabeth knew that, though they appeared to be quite alone at the moment, they were still very much in public, in a crowded London theatre full of people who would be descending upon them in a matter of minutes. It was too much for her, and she found herself pulling away from him just as his lips brushed her cheek.
Darcy drew close to her once more and murmured in her ear, “You are so beautiful tonight, my love. I hardly know how I have managed to keep my hands from you this evening. You have been driving me to distraction ever since I first saw you in the drawing room.” The soft timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine.
“I believe we are currently in the middle of a theatre, Mr. Darcy,” she said with only a shadow of her usual archness. “From what I knew of you in Hertfordshire, sir, I would have expected the master of Pemberley to be well practiced in the art of self-control by now.”
Darcy laughed, his breath stirring the curls upon the nape of her neck, and said, “I believe that was only when you first knew me, Miss Bennet, for it has been many, many weeks now since you have managed to drive away all remaining fragments of that self-control I had once so prided myself upon.” He then gently directed her gaze to where their images were reflected in the panes of a large window. “Look at you, Elizabeth. Have you ever seen any woman looking as beautiful as you are this evening? My God, but I have missed having you in my bed.”
He had placed his hands upon her waist and was leaning forward to allow his lips the pleasure of kissing her neck when she withdrew from him again, her face flushed scarlet. She hurriedly walked toward the window and put distance between them. “Fitzwilliam,” she implored, “please, I beg you would not. Not here.”
He only continued to look at her with that same fire in his eyes. It was as though he had not heard one word she had said to him, and it angered her enough to say, in a low voice, “I remember a time, sir, when you almost murdered a man who had dared to speak disrespectfully of me. I would dearly wish to know what has changed so much since that day to have made it acceptable for you to behave thus with me in the middle of a public theatre? Have your aunt’s words already faded from your memory? Have the remnants of my reputation come to mean so little that you would risk causing a scandal here?” She gestured to their surroundings. Darcy instantly paled.
His shock, however, very soon gave way to growing indignation. Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, he escorted her from the building and out into the street, where he ordered their carriage. They stood without speaking until it came. No sooner had they seated themselves inside and closed the door than Darcy drew the shades and spoke, his voice shaking. “You dare to compare my conduct with the disgusting behavior of that… that despicable blackguard?”
Elizabeth visibly swallowed and turned aside her head. He leaned forward and grasped her chin in a somewhat rougher fashion than he had intended, and directed her face toward his. Elizabeth flinched, and after several seconds, Darcy released her. He slumped back against the interior of the coach to run the back of his hand across his pursed lips. “Is that truly what you think of me tonight, Elizabeth? That I have so little respect for you that I would act upon the same self-serving, loathsome impulses George Wickham possesses?”
“No,” she said with no little vehemence, “of course, you are nothing like him. You could never be like him.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek then, soon to be followed by another. She wiped them away. “Forgive me. I should never have spoken so. You are the last person who deserves such an unfeeling and unjust reproach for what I, of all people, should well know to have been simply a passionate response to the love you have for me. I do not know what is wrong with me tonight. Perhaps I am only too aware that we have not had a moment to ourselves in several days, but that can hardly compare with the fact that I am… not proud of our conduct this evening, and I am afraid my disapproval must also extend to several other, rather specific, unguarded moments we have spent in each other’s company while we have been in London, as well.”