Not Quite Darcy (15 page)

She slipped silently from his room and into the library. Taking the key was an impulsive action. Impulsive and reckless and desperate. But the thought of sweet William being driven to such lengths, by her, was just too hard to bear. She could do something to mend this. She had to.

Wee Willie's winkie in a locked cock box? Not on my watch.

Chapter Sixteen

By nine o'clock the next evening, Eliza had paced a groove in the library carpet. Though she knew she should be concerned about “the mission,” truth was she couldn't give a damn about it. It was William who plagued her mind.

He'd only just begun to let down his guard. When he'd talked about boxing, the night he'd gotten drunk—those times he'd let the mask slip a bit and shown her his true self—the man beneath. That guy was miles away now, safely hidden from all, and she'd been the one to chase him into hiding.

She held the key firmly in her hand but had no idea how to give the damned thing back to him. The dim glow of gaslight spilled from beneath his bedroom door, and she heard a heavy sliding sound, as if he was moving furniture.

She hadn't been able to force herself any nearer to the door for the last hour. The more she thought about the right path to take, the more confused she became. Different routes became a jumble in her mind, all seeming to mate and multiply the more she thought about them. No matter which course she took, her path appeared doomed to further tangle their relationship, further undermine his confidence.

There was a loud thump from William's room, then a snatch of muttering. For quiet-William, he was being positively boisterous.

The small silver key gleamed in the half-moon light, lying still and harmless in her palm. She held the key to his dick, while losing the key to the man.

She heard a loud
thunk
from his room.

The key winked at her in the dim light, reminding her,
“He's looking for me you know.”

“Shuddup, I know.”

“If you had all the time in the world, you're not going to find the right way to do this. There really isn't a smooth way to say, ‘Would you like your penis key returned?' You just have to suck it up and do it,”
the key snarked. For an inanimate object, it had a hell of a lot to say.

A muffled crash sounded through the door, then a quick burst of cursing.

She didn't have time to find the right thing to say, the right way to say it. Rather, his penis didn't have time for this. The Great Key Search was kicking into overdrive, and she really had to get in there and end it.

Forcing her reluctant feet out into the hallway, she stood before his door. It made more sense to approach his bedroom from the hall. Why bring up unnecessary reminders of the other night? The other terribly hot and intimate night.

She had to just do this. She had to return his key and begin a conversation about sex, somehow. She had put him into this state, and it was up to her to fix it.

Folding her hand into a fist, she brought it up to his door and made it knock.

The slight scuffling sounds coming from behind the door ceased immediately.

She gave the door two more sharp raps.

“Yes?” William's voice was close, just on the other side of the door.

“It's Eliza. I need to speak with you for a moment.”

“Now is really a most inopportune time.”

“It will only take a moment, William.” She kept her tone light and friendly.
Nothing to be afraid of here! Come out, come out, wherever you are.

“Regrettably, I cannot.”

Eliza kicked the door and then yelped in pain. After a few long moments of glaring at the door, more nothing continued to happen. Fine, if he wanted to play wanted to play hardball, she knew how to pitch.

“William, I will speak with you. We can have this conversation shouting through the door if you wish, although we might disturb your mother. Or you can open the damned door. It's your choice.”

The latch clicked, and the door slowly opened, with William tucked well behind. His room had a chaotic, unWilliam-like look to it. Books spread across the floor, clothes in messy piles. The smarmy, too-talkative key held tightly in her hand seemed to be asking,
“Now, don't you feel bad, Eliza?”

And she did. She really did.

She turned to face William with a smile. He stood awkwardly by the door, hair spectacularly mussed and his usually crisp vest looking worse for wear. He kept his eyes trained firmly on the floor.

Might as well cut to the chase, right? It was American-style, as those damned Repairmen might say. And yet, her mouth refused to move.

God, this was awkward. Why had she taken the damned thing in the first place? She was just about to come up with something—she really was. Something elegant and graceful and terribly tactful, when he spoke instead.

“I understand why you're angry, Eliza. God knows I do. I assure you, your repugnance is equally matched by the disgust I feel towards myself.” He continued to study the floor.

“Oh, no! No, no, William. You really don't understand. That is not why I'm angry.”

“It was a vile act. Shameful and disgusting and…” He trailed off. He tugged on his hair ferociously, and he still refused to meet her eyes.

“William,” she said, her voice calmer now, patient, even. “I'm the one who should apologize to you.”

He looked up at her, his hand frozen mid-tug. Eliza took a deep breath. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.

“I have something that belongs to you.” She held the key out, and he snatched it up faster than a pigeon with a breadcrumb. Lips apart, breath quickening. Poor thing, he looked slightly terrified. God, she'd missed his face. She didn't realize how much, until that moment.

“I found the key while cleaning.” But since she'd forced him into this vulnerable place, the least she could offer in return was her honesty. “No. No, I didn't, William. I took this key from you yesterday.”

“Why would you take property that didn't belong to you?” He was being strong, direct and honest. His mask wasn't slipping, but being rather deliberately removed. How surprising.

“Because I was trying to find a way to talk with you about the device you bought for your…you know…” Eliza blushed, and her eyes went to his crotch. She winced inwardly. Although she was doing well with the honesty part of this evening's program, the tact section of the event left a lot to be desired.

“As I said in my letter, my actions were unforgivable. I am taking steps to ensure that the incident will not recur.” His voice was a monotone, his eyes back on the floor.

“William, what you did isn't wrong and horrible. You're a twenty-nine-year-old man. You're going to masturbate or explode from all the pent-up tension. It's very common. Something like ninety-eight percent of all men do it.”

He stared at her with the look of a man who'd just been hit in the head with a board. “How would you possibly know of such a…” He trailed off, dumbstruck.

“Women do it too. I do it, William.”

He blinked, his mouth forming a small “o” of surprise.

“Yeah, I know. I'm not oblivious to what women are supposed to be in this time. We're empty vessels. No thought. No passion. But that's wrong. Men think we don't think about sexuality. That when a man ‘sullies' our body, we are to ‘lie back and think of England.' But that's not what real women do.”

His Adam's apple bobbed in a gulp, and he looked at her, head tilted slightly to the side.

“William, I don't exactly lie back, and I'm not thinking of England. I'm thinking of you. Of what you looked like in the moonlight.”

At that, he surprised her, and seemed to surprise himself, by taking a step toward her. It was as if his feet were moving toward her of their own volition, much as hers had betrayed her that night she'd watched him.

“You think of me?” His mask gone.

She reached down to touch his hand, tentatively. When he didn't pull away, she entwined her fingers with his and smiled up at him.

And he looked at her with raw honesty, his expression a strange concoction of terrified and brave.

“I don't know what to do, Eliza. I don't know how to be when I am near you. You quite unmake me, I must confess.”

She lifted his hand still clasped with hers, almost as if to begin a waltz and brought it to her lips to kiss the back of it, gently. A strange gesture, she knew. But not quite knowing the steps, she improvised as best she could. She could hear his sharp intake of breath, and then his arms moved to encircle her waist, pulling her closer.

She snuggled in under his chin, just touching the tips of her fingers to the nape of his neck, toying with the curls there. Resting her head on his chest, she could hear the soft
th-thud, th-thud
of his heart beating, and it gave her a kind of numb joy.

Tilting her head up, she nuzzled her nose against his jaw line, nudging a little trail of Eskimo kisses down to his chin, again a very strange and unsexy thing to do. So why did she feel his body shudder against hers?

“Eliza, I don't—don't know how to manage in this. What you want of me.”

“How about, for once, let's think about what
you
want.” She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. Wide, blue and blinking at her behind his spectacles, which were beginning to look a little foggy. She gently removed them and tucked them into his vest pocket.

Laying her palm against the smooth plane of his cheek, she looked into the sky of his eyes. “What do you want, William?”

“I don't know. What should one do in this situation?”

“I think this situation is less about should and more about want. What do you
want
to do, William?”

He laughed then. A thoroughly unstuffy sound that made something melt deep in Eliza's center.

“What I want to do is, that is to say, I should very much like to—touch your hair.”

Gently, she reached out to take his hands and place them on top of her head before wrapping her arms about his waist. She could see their images reflected in his bedroom window. She with her arms around his middle and he with both hands atop her head. They looked to be most unusual dance partners.

“I should proceed?” His voice was at once full of hope and fear.

“Indeed.” She smiled at him reassuringly.

Very carefully, William began to remove her hairpins with precise movements. As each lock of hair came free from the restrictive bun, he laid it down reverently. Once her hair was completely free, he ran his fingers carefully through it. His gaze was so intense that he looked like a scientist discovering a new species.

“I've wanted to do this for a very long time.”

She slid a fingertip along his bottom lip. “I know. You told me when you were drunk.”

“I do apologize for anything I said while I was inebriated. I suppose it's a mercy that I cannot recall what I said.” The hint of a blush on his cheeks told her that this wasn't strictly true. “I'm afraid my lack of propriety when I'm near you is—”

“Pretty wonderful. You should keep it up.”

William took a deep breath then, the way a person inhales before jumping off a very high diving board. One hand continued to toy with her hair, and the other moved to just beneath her chin. He leaned down then, pulling her gaze to meet his. His tentative mouth brushed against her lips in a gentle kiss.

“Geronimo, William,” Eliza murmured.

He gave her a questioning glance and she smiled widely at him, walls down and possibilities wide open. “That was lovely.”

 She leaned up then, touching her lips to his, gently at first, then deepening the kiss. His mouth was so warm and tasted a little bit like whiskey. Coaxing him to open his mouth a bit wider, she touched the tip of her tongue to his, and could feel him jump, just a little, but he opened his mouth and slid his tongue against hers, tasting her, relishing her flavor.

He broke the kiss and looked into her eyes, a look that was somehow startled and joyful at the same time. “Why is it that I still don't know what to say?”

“I'm making this up as I go along too.”

She tucked her head back under his chin again, unable to resist the comfort of his arms. With a fingertip, she traced the shell of his ear, then kissed along his neck. His skin smelled like sunshine and lime aftershave.

“Gah.” He wriggled a little at this.

“You've been saying that a lot lately.” She kissed a line down his throat, feeling the pulse beneath her lips with a kind of shocked awe. He spoke and his warm skin vibrated against her mouth.

She was so involved with her ministrations, that it took a moment to notice what he was saying. She pulled back so that she could better hear him.

“Sheffield, Keighley…”

“William, who is Keighley? You're not talking about another woman while I'm kissing you, are you?”

“Ah, no Eliza. I was naming towns in Yorkshire.”

“The obvious question here is why?”

“You had mentioned earlier, that in these matters a person might lie back and think of England. Although these physical sensations are extremely pleasant in many ways, I was trying to lie back and think of England due to the growing discomfort I am experiencing in my personal region. That is to say, the device is still attached, Eliza.”

Oh, how could she have forgotten? His dick was locked in the ultimate cock-blocking device. Getting an erection while crammed inside of that miniature torture chamber had to be fantastically painful.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I should go to my room and you should deal with that horrible device. You have the key and you know what to do.”

She turned to go, then, as a precaution, spun back around and placed her hands on his cheeks. “We started something new tonight. We don't have anything to be ashamed of here, neither of us. Tomorrow when you see me, no more hiding. No more walls up and no more strange wooden contraptions. Okay?”

Though a bright blush colored the sharp angle of his cheekbones, he smiled at her tenderly. “I still don't understand ‘okay,' but I'm almost certain I agree to your terms.”

“Good night, William.”

Just after she closed the door behind her, she remembered something very important, and stopped to shimmy out of her pantaloons.