Falling for Mr. Darcy Page 2

  It was unlike Darcy to be less than properly attired, but the feeling of freedom, of the wind in his hair, reminded him of the carefree days of his youth when he would ride across the grounds of Pemberley without a hat. He turned his horse towards a hill a short distance away and, upon reaching the summit, stopped briefly to take in the scenery. It was truly a beautiful county. The rolling hills and glens were quite different from the more rugged and untamed, natural beauty of Derbyshire. In the distance, he spied a grove of trees that reminded him a little of the forests at Pemberley. A gust of wind pushed like hands against his back, compelling him towards the grove. Taking a deep breath and one last look across the countryside, Darcy kicked in his heels and again raced across the fields.

  Upon reaching the grove, he noticed a path leading through it. The peacefulness of the sound of leaves in the wind made the decision for him to ride on. Bringing his horse to a slow walk, he breathed contentment after the hard ride. As he rode leisurely along the path, he thought of Georgiana and their reliance on each other. Until recently, she had been the only person in whom he could confide his most personal concerns. He now felt she was too burdened with her own recovery to speak with her about the feelings stirred inside of him by Elizabeth. He was not sure she would understand his reasoning regarding Elizabeth’s unsuitability. She saw good and never suspected ill will in anyone, which was why she was so easily persuaded by Wickham. She would not understand the pressure he was under to marry well nor the inappropriateness of the match. No, he could not tell Georgiana. Thinking of the improper match helped Darcy steel his emotions and that twinge of — was it loss? — that he felt when thinking of avoiding any connection with Elizabeth.

  With his resolve in place, Darcy took in a cleansing breath to expel all thoughts of her from his mind and focused instead on enjoying the slight reprieve from the wind provided by the forest as he meandered through it.

  A few minutes later, he came around a small bend and caught sight of a flash of rose-colored fabric about thirty yards ahead. Immediately drawing his horse to a stop, he retreated a few steps to avoid being seen as he was not in the mood to be civil. When his eyes focused on the patch of color, his heart stopped and then started beating fiercely at double time. It is Elizabeth! She has not seen me; I will quietly turn around and go before she does. He was thankful for the sound of the wind through the trees disguising the hoof beats, keeping Elizabeth unaware of his near approach.

  But he could not move. He was frozen in place by the sight of her. She was sitting on a fallen log amongst a group of very old and frail oak trees. Her foot was tapping rhythmically and he just caught the sound of her humming as the wind changed direction and sent her song to him. Her head was tilted up, caught in a small patch of sun peeking down on her. Her eyes closed, and he noticed how her eyelashes splayed across her cheekbones, and in that moment, he wished he could kiss them. Adjusting uncomfortably in his seat, he noticed her dress had small, yellow flowers on the sleeve as one arm was peeking out of the shawl that had fallen temptingly off one shoulder. She is so beautiful! As she tipped her head further back to gain more sun, he noticed the wind brush softly across her features as a few tendrils of her dark curls blew out and around the side of her bonnet.

  He was not sure how long he sat there atop his horse watching her. After a while, he felt embarrassed that he had spied on her for so long and decided to take one last moment to memorize the picture she made of pure contentment and then be on his way. Just as he was guiding his horse to turn around, a gust of wind tore through the forest, upsetting the animal. Darcy had to use all his skill as a horseman to calm his mount and bring him under control, lest he lose his seat. As he did this, a sharp booming crack caused Salazar to rear up in terror. He had barely calmed his horse when he turned to see Elizabeth. Another stronger gust of wind tore through, causing the old oak tree near her to break at its rotten base and fall. She screamed as she stumbled backwards, attempting to get out of the way. He watched in horror as she barely managed to avoid being crushed beneath the falling tree before her foot slipped, causing her to fall back on her hands. He froze as he heard her head hit the ground.

  No! It cannot be, not her! were the only thoughts Darcy could manage as he kicked his horse to close the distance to her. In one fluid movement, he alit from his horse and was at her side, capturing her in his arms and holding her head to his chest.

  “Elizabeth! Are you all right? Are you hurt?” Mr. Darcy cried in fear. “Elizabeth!” He was holding her so tightly that he did not notice she was fully alert, her eyes wide in surprise at his embrace.

  She had closed her eyes only briefly in fear as she fell and hit her head when, in the next moment, she found herself in the arms of none other than Mr. Darcy! He was calling her name in concern — her Christian name — though she could not find the words to assuage his fear or to reprimand him for the familiarity of his address. Oddly, at that moment, her thoughts drifted to the feel of his embrace. He had such strong arms, and her head tucked perfectly under his chin as she listened to his rapid heartbeat. He feels so warm too! She noticed his scent was a pleasant mixture of lemon and leather. She felt his head as it rested against her hair, which meant she had lost her bonnet somewhere. Then she felt a gentle pressure on her head. Did he just kiss my hair? In the second it took for her to process all these thoughts and to firmly, if not successfully, push aside how that moment of pressure on her hair made her feel, she found her voice.

  “Um . . . Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth mumbled against his chest where he was firmly holding her head.

  She felt his body stiffen in realization of his rash behavior, and he slowly, but reluctantly, loosened his grip. With a feigned attempt at calm, he said, “Forgive me, Miss Bennet. I was riding and saw the tree fall, causing you to stumble, and I was concerned you were injured.” He knew his actions could not fully be explained by his words, and he was unhappy at the cold sound of his voice.

  He looked down and noticed that her hair had come out of most of its pins and was falling around her shoulders and down her back. His fingers ached with the desire to run them through the silken strands, but instead, he looked at her face, and their eyes caught. He stiffened as he looked into her brown eyes full of humor and not a little disbelief. The air around them thickened as his eyes moved down to her lips, which were turned slightly upwards at the corners. Elizabeth saw his eyes darken and wondered what it would feel like to kiss Mr. Darcy. She had not been kissed before, and the idea suddenly struck her as attractive. Startled by her bizarre thoughts and brought back to the strange reality of the situation, she heard him clear his throat in an attempt to speak.

  She hastened to speak first. “Mr. Darcy, I thank you for your concern. As you can see, I am quite well. I promise to forgive you, if you . . . umm . . . ” She lost her words as she looked down at the arms still wrapped around her and nodded her head towards them. Darcy realized with great embarrassment that he still held her in his arms. He withdrew them slowly, stopping to rest his hands on her arms to steady her before releasing her completely.

  They sat on the forest floor for a brief, uncomfortable moment, as neither knew what was proper to say next. Darcy was mortified at his rash behavior in his impulsive embrace of Miss Elizabeth and in using her Christian name in his anxiety of the situation. Oh, heavens! And then to find that she was unhurt and that he was still holding her! He tried not to dwell on the loss he felt after releasing her or the tingle of his lips from his thoughtless kiss on her hair. Oh, it was so soft and silky! Stop it, man! You must get a handle on yourself this instant! He chastised himself as he absently rubbed his jaw. A mixture of relief and regret simmered inside him as he thought about that brief, charged moment when he almost forgot himself and kissed her. Now he felt mortified, as he furiously fought for something to say.

  Elizabeth was not much better off with her own thoughts. She was completely baffled by Mr. Darcy’s behavior. He had brashly seized her into his arms, and his voice was shaky, yet t
ender, when he called her name. And how is it that he could turn my name into a caress? He seemed very concerned for her. And that slight pressure on her head — no, she would not dwell on what that could have been. I had not thought he could be kind and tender, but he was for a moment. Then the cold Mr. Darcy came out as soon as he realized his impropriety. She thought he must be quite ashamed of himself for showing concern to someone like her. He must be congratulating himself that we were unseen here in the forest. She did not allow herself to admit to the feeling of disappointment that coursed briefly through her when he withdrew his arms; it made no sense. A chill went down her spine as her thoughts turned back to how she had wished he would kiss her. She remembered the feel of his warm breath on her face and his rapid heartbeat against her hands where they had rested on his chest.

  Mr. Darcy’s thoughts were brought back to the present when he noticed her shiver. “You are chilled; forgive me for not retrieving your wrap.” He stood and walked to where her wrap, which had flown off in the wind, had caught on a tall branch. He carefully detached it and came back to crouch next to her.

  “Please, allow me.” Carefully, and with as little contact as he could manage, he draped the wrap on her shoulders, bringing it together in the front. Then, his hands shaking, he pulled away and looked around in embarrassment.

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy, you are very kind.” She felt no small amount of embarrassment herself. As she absently brought her hand up to her face in an attempt to cool her heated cheeks, a slight breeze blew her loose hair across her face and hand. “Oh!” she cried and colored with mortification, assessing the disheveled state she was in. “I apologize for my appearance, Mr. Darcy. The wind . . . ” Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

  “Do not concern yourself, Miss Bennet. I do not mind.” His eyes widened as he realized what he had just said and saw her color again. “That is to say, I . . . um . . . understand the weather is quite at fault in this situation.” Idiot! If I could but disappear! Darcy grimaced and gentlemanly turned his head away as she pulled her hair up and tried to replace her pins.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy could see her ministrations and was briefly fascinated with them. He had never before seen a lady set her hair, and he wished to watch her. He knew that, with each pin, the curve of her delicate neck would be further revealed and her femininity intensified. Instead, he looked around and, catching sight of her bonnet on the ground a few feet away, went to fetch it for her. He walked slowly back as she replaced the final pin in her hair. He bent slightly to hand the bonnet to her, and she took it and placed it on her head, tying the ribbons tightly under her chin. He extended his hand to her. “Please allow me, Miss Bennet.”

  She accepted his hand and attempted to rise, but when she tried to place weight on her left ankle, she whimpered in pain and sat back down. Mr. Darcy became concerned and kneeled next to her.

  “Miss Bennet, you are hurt. Is it your ankle?” His hands floated nervously in the air around her foot as if attempting to will it to heal.

  “Yes, sir, I am afraid I cannot walk on it. If you would be so kind as to go for help, I would be much obliged, sir.”

  “Please allow me at least to help you over to that log so you are not sitting on the ground.” Mr. Darcy spoke with tenderness.

  Elizabeth, caught by the look of concern on his face and the soothing sound of his voice, could not speak but blushed and nodded her acceptance. With that, he nodded and, hesitantly, as if he were afraid to touch or break her, moved closer. His mind reeled in nervous anticipation of touching her again. She awkwardly raised her arms, thinking he would lend his strength to support her in hobbling to the log. Instead, he paused briefly, then exhaled the breath he had been holding, and in one fluid motion, he put one arm around her back and the other under her legs and stood, scooping her up and carrying her towards the log. Her heart beat wildly in her chest at his sudden closeness and the realization of the ease with which he held her full weight as if she weighed nothing at all. In the suddenness of his action, she grabbed onto his neck in surprise, and her fingers felt the feathery softness of his brown curls just touching the top of his greatcoat. She looked up and noticed he was not wearing his hat and his hair was wildly windblown. A few wayward curls falling across his forehead drew her attention. He looked down at her, catching her scrutiny, and gave her a small smile, causing her heart to beat faster as she hastily turned her head away.

  As soon as he reached the log, Darcy gently placed Elizabeth down and pulled his arms back as quickly as he could as if they were on fire — because in truth, they felt like they were. He used the excuse of wiping dust off his sleeves to massage the feeling from his arms caused by holding Elizabeth so close. When he had caught her looking at him with wonder in her eyes as he carried her, a smile appeared without his consent. He backed away a few steps to collect himself for a moment, and then concern for her again flooded his thoughts as he remembered the reason he had held her. She was injured.

  “Miss Bennet. You have asked me to go for help, but I cannot. I fear leaving you unable to protect yourself should another gust of wind arise.”

  Elizabeth’s face lit with a sly humor as she responded, “Mr. Darcy, I thank you for your concern, but I am quite certain the wind could not carry me away.”

  Mr. Darcy opened his mouth to protest but stopped as he realized she was teasing him and he smiled. “I do not doubt you, Miss Bennet.” He was delighted with the smile she returned. An idea struck him as a solution. “Miss Bennet, if it would be acceptable to you, I have an idea to solve our current problem.”

  “And what is that, Mr. Darcy?”

  “You can ride my horse, and I will escort you back to the safety of your home.” He awaited her response to spending more time in his company.

  “I see. Well, sir, I cannot accept —”

  Mr. Darcy, becoming slightly agitated at her stubbornness, quickly cut her off. “Miss Bennet, I do not see another solution —”

  With a slight smile, she stopped him and attempted to ease his discomfort by explaining that she could not ride his horse as she did not ride and it quite frightened her to do so.

  “Indeed? Well then . . . ” Mr. Darcy began to pace as he tried to figure out another solution and absently drew his fingers through his hair as he struggled. While he paced, Elizabeth smoothed her skirts, dusting off the dirt from her fall. She watched him curiously, seeing how much it bothered him not to be in command of the situation. She thought he must be used to having his own way. With a small amount of surprise, she found she was not as angry with him for his overbearing nature as she had been in the past. She had experienced his kindness and concern during the past half hour, and she realized, with some consternation, that at least some of her previous assessment of him was wrong. Yes, he was still arrogant, but perhaps his demanding nature was somewhat a result of habit. She knew he had become master at a young age and, from what Mr. Bingley had told Jane, his estate in Derbyshire was quite large. It occurred to her with sadness that he probably had few opportunities to be a gentleman of leisure, especially since he seemed to take such great concern and care of his young sister. Maybe that is why he does not often smile. I wonder if I could make him smile again. With that thought, she decided to put her fear of horse riding aside to ease his frustration.

  “Mr. Darcy, if you can assure me that your great beast over there is quite safe, I will try to oblige you by riding it. But, under no circumstances, should you let go of the reins.” Elizabeth was disappointed in the slight shakiness of her voice as she wished to appear more confident than she sounded.

  Mr. Darcy stopped in mid-stride and turned towards her. He realized she was trying to make a concession to him despite her worries, and he was struck with amazement at her generosity. He smiled as he nodded his acceptance of her terms and assured her his “great beast” was capable of being very gentle.

  Ahh, he does have a great smile. It really transforms his features. She felt quite happy with herself for
so easily accomplishing her task to make him smile. Elizabeth then realized he was coming towards her, and her heart took off again. What is wrong with me that he can cause such a reaction?

  “Miss Bennet, I must help you to the horse, if you will give your consent again.” Mr. Darcy tried to sound as casual as possible even as his mind was screaming — Yes, say yes! You belong in my arms, Elizabeth!

  She laughed, and the hair on his neck stood up at the musical sound. “Mr. Darcy, I cannot see any other way I could get there unless another gust of wind were to pick me up and place me atop your horse! You may assist me, thank you.” Elizabeth realized she was using humor to cover her nervous feelings of anticipation at his touch. She thought, with a wry smile, that she was not that different from her father, trying to disguise her feelings with humor.

  Mr. Darcy softly chuckled and, inhaling a deep breath in preparation, bent down to pick her up. As he walked the short distance to his horse, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was again inspecting his face. He tried to pretend not to notice and so pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. Despite his efforts, the smallest hint of a dimple began to appear on his cheek. He could see her eyes dart to it, and with a bit of mischief, he surprised her when he spoke.

  “Miss Bennet, do I have a mole on my face or perhaps a bit of dirt that has caught your attention?” At seeing her color in embarrassment at being caught, he broke into a full grin.

  Elizabeth, completely discomposed, managed to push her embarrassment aside in an attempt to tease him for his ungallant comment. “Mr. Darcy, you do not have a mole or dirt, I can assure you of that. However, I do see something at present on your face that I have not seen before, and it briefly caught my attention. I apologize.” She paused, waiting for the response she knew he would give.

  “Whatever do you mean, Miss Bennet? What is on my face?”