Chapter 8
A horse galloped along the Golden Gate Promenade. Elizabeth could only remotely make out
its shape through the thick fog blanketing the walkway, but she could clearly hear the clip-clop
of its hooves as it approached her.
She was dressed in a flowing, full-length champagne-colored gown with a low-cut bodice trimmed in lace and long, full sleeves. She felt something flapping around her shoulders in the breeze and reached up. She was wearing some kind of headdress with a diaphanous veil. Wait a minute. Since when do I dress like something out of a fairy tale? And come to think of it, since when do people ride horses out here?
The horse slowed as it approached her, and she could now see that it was a dark, powerful stallion with a sleek coat. Its rider, dressed in black armor, dismounted and walked slowly toward her. Armor? Oh, puh-leeze.
The black knight removed his helmet, revealing William Darcy’s patrician features, deep brown eyes, and dark, tousled hair. Well, I have to admit, this just got a lot more interesting.
“I’ve come to kiss you,” he intoned in a deep voice that sent shivers down her spine.
“Wearing armor? Who are you expecting to fight?” she heard herself ask.
“You, of course,” said a familiar voice behind her. “I told you that you were fighting your feelings for him.” She turned and saw Charlotte, dressed most inappropriately for a foggy morning by the bay.
“Could you please excuse me for just a moment?” Elizabeth asked Sir William.
“I suppose so. I need to get out of this armor anyway.” He walked back to his horse, frowning at the elaborate network of fastenings on his armor.
“What are you doing down here dressed like that?” Elizabeth looked at Charlotte in disbelief. She was wrapped tightly in a white bed sheet, her arms and shoulders bare. “Though, come to think of it, I guess it’s no more bizarre than seeing William in a suit of armor.”
“Or you in that silly princess get-up. Besides, don’t blame me—it’s your dream. I’m just taking a quick break from Roger. Some of us know how to properly appreciate a man. But I had to bring you this—you may need it. Remember, I said I’d get you one.” Charlotte pressed a small rectangular object into Elizabeth’s hand. She looked down and saw that it was a tape measure.
“Have fun using it!” Charlotte chortled. “It’s an extra large one …
the tape measure, I mean. Now, are you going riding with William? That’s what he wants, you know.”
“I want to, but I’m afraid I’ll fall and get hurt.”
“That’s what I thought. Can’t get past the other times you’ve fallen, can you? Haven’t you heard people say that you need to get right back on the horse? I’m disappointed in you.” Charlotte wandered away, the tail of her sheet trailing behind her.
William was still busy removing his armor. He seemed to be wearing nothing beneath it. Elizabeth was about to protest that this wasn’t correct—knights wore other clothing under their armor—but before she had the chance, he set aside the last of the armor, and rational thought was driven from her mind.
He stood before her
entirely naked.
He looked good—no, actually, he looked magnificent, all taut muscles and smooth,
tawny flesh. Elizabeth’s eyes drank in the incredible beauty of his form,
her attention soon riveted by one part of him—one exceptionally large part—that strained insistently towards her. She blushed and swallowed hard, feeling urgent heat
radiating from the center of her body, and glanced involuntarily at the tape measure in her hand.
Lydia whizzed by on inline skates, wearing her Hooter’s uniform. “See?” she cackled. “He’s every bit as big as his horse. Told ya!”
Suddenly, William and Elizabeth were enveloped in heavy, swirling fog, creating their own private hideaway. She stared at him, her eyes huge, her breathing shallow, as he strode towards her with easy, powerful grace. She could hear Chopin playing softly in the background.
“Would you like to ride with me?” he asked, his voice a deep, silky caress. He reached up, removed her headdress, and gently ran his fingers through her hair.
“I don’t know. I want to, but I’m afraid,” she whispered.
He continued to stroke her hair. “I want very badly to take you riding,” he said, the quiet intensity in his voice sending a shiver through her body. His gaze dropped to her cleavage, and when he looked up again she saw desire burning in his dark eyes. “Very, very badly.” He cupped her breast through the fabric of her dress.
Elizabeth reached out to touch his bare chest. It felt warm and firm beneath her trembling fingers. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her tightly against him, his powerful arousal pressing against her. She moaned his name as his hands slid down her back to cup her buttocks, pressing her hips tightly to his. He reached up to yank down the loose bodice of the dress, revealing her breasts to his burning gaze. She arched against him, whimpering in helpless excitement as his lips and tongue explored her newly revealed flesh.
“Please, Elizabeth, ride with me,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes blazing with fierce hunger, a hunger that burned inside her too. She nodded, frightened yet helpless to refuse him anything. He made an exultant sound as he gathered her into his arms and carried her to his horse. He set her on her feet, jumped into the saddle, and then effortlessly pulled her up to join him, settling her so that she sat facing him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself close to him, depositing soft kisses across his chest. He groaned deep in his throat in passionate response.
“You still haven’t kissed me,” she breathed, her lips parted in invitation.
William held the horse’s reins in one hand and raised his other hand to her face, cupping her cheek. “You know that I can only ride with you this one time, don’t you?” he said softly, his face filled with regret.
“Why?” she asked, mesmerized by the sensuous mouth descending towards hers.
“Because,” he murmured against her lips, “you’re not at my social level.”
“Lizzy? Are you all right?”
Elizabeth opened her eyes, disoriented. She was looking up into Jane’s worried face, visible in the pale morning light filtering through the curtains. Elizabeth frowned and looked around her. “What happened?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.
“I heard you in here making strange noises. I thought you might be ill. But you must have been dreaming.”
Elizabeth tried to remember the dream, which was quickly fading. Something about a horse, in the fog? And I think Lydia was in it. She shook her head. The details were just out of her reach.
Her body felt warm, a tingling sensation radiating through her. She was surprised to discover that, under the sheet, her tee shirt was bunched up above her breasts. I must have really been thrashing around in my sleep. She pulled the shirt down to cover her naked body, noticing that her nipples were taut. She also sensed dampness between her legs. I guess this was no ordinary dream.
“What time is it?” Elizabeth asked, struggling to sit up.
“It’s 7:30. Uncle Edward and Aunt Madeline got the message we left for them last night; she called a few minutes ago. They’ll be here at about 8:30.”
“Did you get much sleep?” It didn’t look like it—Jane’s face was pale and drawn, her eyes red-rimmed.
“A little.” Jane sat on the edge of Elizabeth’s bed. “Thank you for taking such good care of me last night. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.”
“You would have been just fine. I can’t believe how strong you were.”
“Did I do the right thing? I keep thinking that maybe I was too demanding and selfish. Maybe Charles is right and I should just trust that it will all work out fine.”
“I don’t think I should tell you what to do. But last night you seemed quite sure that you and Charles would be miserable if you agreed to Mr. Bingley’s terms. Have you changed your mind about that?”
Jane shook her head sadly. “He’s destroying Charles. That would only get worse if we lived under his constant control. But now there’s nobody on Charles’s side, nobody to fight for him or help him. I’ve abandoned him.” Jane began to cry quietly.
Elizabeth scooted across the bed to sit beside Jane, wrapping her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “But Charles won’t really let you help him, right?”
“No, he won’t,” Jane sniffled. “He thinks there’s nothing that can be done.”
“Exactly. And you can’t fight his battle for him without his cooperation. Maybe losing you will bring him to his senses and he’ll realize that he’s got to be stronger. He may be knocking at your door before you know it, willing to do anything to keep you.”
Jane looked at Elizabeth, a ray of hope in her eyes. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes, I do. Where is he going to find anyone who compares to you? I just hope he’s smart enough to realize that.”
“Oh, Lizzy, it’s so good to have you here,” Jane sighed, hugging Elizabeth.
“I’m glad to be here too. I miss you so much when I’m in New York.”
“I hope you get that job out here. It would mean so much to have you here, especially now.”
“I’d like that too. But my chances aren’t good, so I’m not getting my hopes up. Well, I guess I’d better take my shower and get dressed before Uncle Edward and Aunt Madeline get here.”
“I’m going to call Mom and Dad. If Dad answers the phone I’ll tell him what’s going on; otherwise I’ll just ask Mom to come up here earlier than we originally planned.” Jane squared her thin shoulders with determination and left Elizabeth’s bedroom.
Elizabeth had trouble finding her shampoo—it wasn’t in the small bag with her other toiletries. Then she remembered tossing the bottle into the center pocket of her suitcase at the last minute. She retrieved it, noting with surprise that it was only half full. I could have sworn I packed a full bottle. But it was about 4:00 am when I packed it, so anything is possible.
During her shower, she tried to recall her dream. She remembered now that Charlotte had been in it. Wearing … a sheet? She shrugged, realizing that she would probably never remember most of the details. She lathered her body, surprised at how sensitive her breasts felt. Her hands lingered there as a vision of dark, hungry eyes filled her mind, eyes that seemed vaguely familiar, perhaps from the dream.
As she brushed her teeth, she wondered if William would still adhere to his plan for a morning run down by the bay. I think my dream took place down there. And it was foggy, wasn’t it?
Elizabeth returned to the bedroom dressed in her underwear and began to search her suitcase for something to wear. She located a pair of slim-fitting black capri pants in a side pocket, along with a pair of thong sandals. She opened the center pocket, in search of the oversized polo shirt she wanted to wear, and felt a viscous liquid coating her clothes. She yanked her hand out of the suitcase, frowning, and sniffed.
So that’s where the rest of the shampoo went. Well, so much for the clothes in this part of the suitcase.She pulled on the capri pants and the tee shirt in which she had slept, and then found Jane in the kitchen, busily writing on a legal pad.
“Lizzy, do you want some coffee? I’m trying to make a list of all the calls we need to make about the wedding.”
“Actually, I’ve had a little luggage accident with a shampoo bottle. Do you have a shirt or blouse I could borrow, just till I get some laundry done?”
“Oh, no! Was anything permanently damaged?”
“I’m lucky—the clothes that got covered in shampoo are all washable.”
Jane smiled. “Good. Still packing haphazardly, I take it?”
“Yes, big sis,” Elizabeth answered with a grin. It was good to see Jane smile. “I guess I never learned that ‘every sock in its proper place’ lesson from you. Now, about borrowing something to wear?”
“Well, let’s see. Most of my clothes are at the … at Charles’s house.” Jane sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “But I think there are a few things left in my closet—let’s go look.”
The sisters walked into Jane’s bedroom and peered into the closet. As Jane had indicated, it was mostly empty, with perhaps ten hangers holding articles of clothing. Elizabeth glanced sadly at the wedding gown hanging alone at the other end of the closet, covered by a plastic bag.
“These are mostly things that I don’t really wear, and I was thinking of getting rid of them,” Jane remarked, “so I’m not sure if we’re going to find anything you’ll like.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I’m kind of desperate at the moment. I’ll take anything you have.”
Jane held up a halter top, a jogging bra, and a midriff-baring scoop-neck tee shirt. “Not your style, I think.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Wait,” Jane said. “Here we go. I don’t know why I left this here.” She showed Elizabeth a sleeveless white silk top with a high, rolled collar. The front and sides were shirred, while the back was sheer. “I bet this will look fantastic on you, probably a lot better than on me.”
Elizabeth took the top from Jane, looking at it skeptically. “Oh, I don’t know. That see-through back—”
“Come on, Lizzy, have some fun. If you were in a bathing suit, that part of your back would be completely bare. It would be different if the front were sheer.”
Elizabeth looked at the garment, still hesitating.
Jane made a small, exasperated noise. “Elizabeth Bennet, I know you’re modest, but this isn’t going to make you look like the Whore of Babylon.”
“Okay, thanks. It really is pretty.” Elizabeth’s fingers stroking the shirred fabric.
“There’s just one thing. You know you really can’t wear a bra under it, right?”
“Why not?”
“The sheer back. It looks much better without a bra. And the fabric is thick enough in the front, with the shirring, to give you some coverage.”
“But, Jane, I’m not exactly flat-chested, you know. I’m going to … well, bounce.”
“Big deal. You have breasts. It’s a fact of life. And they bounce a little bit when you move. So what? Besides, this is just till you do your laundry, right?”
Elizabeth nodded reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I’m making quite a fuss for someone who said she’d take anything you offered.” She slipped off her tee shirt and bra and drew the top over her head.
Jane nodded approvingly. “You look fantastic. I’m going to let you keep it—it never looked that good on me!”
Elizabeth looked at herself in the mirror above Jane’s dresser. She had to admit that the top did look good on her. It was feminine without being too frilly. Her breasts stretched the shirring, but not so much that it embarrassed her. Then she noticed that it didn’t quite reach the waistline of her pants, revealing her bellybutton and a small expanse of stomach. She frowned, about to comment, but the challenging look in Jane’s eyes dissuaded her from complaining again.
“Thanks, Jane. I like it. I’m going to go dry my hair now.”
“How about if I show you how to style your hair so you can wear it down whenever you want?”
“No, we can do that some other time. You have lots of other things to worry about.”
“Actually, I’d enjoy it.” Jane smiled, but Elizabeth saw tears swimming in her eyes. “It would remind me of when we were younger and life was a lot easier to understand.”
Elizabeth squeezed Jane’s hand. “Okay, that sounds good to me.”
The doorbell rang, and Jane hurried to answer it. Elizabeth, who had done a creditable job with her hair under Jane’s tutelage, was a few steps behind. They exchanged warm greetings with their aunt and uncle, Madeline and Edward Gardiner.
“You poor dear,” Madeline said, enfolding Jane in a motherly hug. “I’m so very sorry that the wedding is off.”
Jane’s eyes filled with tears. “I feel just terrible. Everyone went to so much trouble to get here. Lizzy had to take a second job to pay for the trip, and you had that mess with your cancelled flight, and it was all for nothing. You must think I’m selfish and fickle and—”
Edward spoke briskly. “Nonsense. Don’t give it a second thought. These things happen sometimes. It’s far better to call off the wedding than to regret getting married afterwards. I’m just glad we’re here now to help you.”
”Would you like to talk about it?” asked Madeline. “If you’d rather not, I understand. I’m sure you’ve talked it through with Lizzy already.”
Jane bit her lip. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it just now. I—” She stopped, struggling to control herself.
“It’s all right,” Madeline answered in a soothing tone. “No need to explain. But if you want to talk later, the offer is always open, okay?”
Jane nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. She was trying to be strong, but Elizabeth could see that she was barely holding herself together. It was good that the Gardiners were here. Aunt Madeline had always been a good friend and confidante to both Elizabeth and Jane, old enough to have useful advice to offer, yet close enough to their ages to be able to connect with them as a friend.
“When will your mother be here?” Madeline asked.
“Probably not till almost lunchtime. She doesn’t know why I asked her to come up early, so it was hard to persuade her. I guess Kitty and Lydia aren’t feeling well this morning and she wants to let them sleep in.”
Elizabeth snorted. “After last night, I’ll just bet they’re not feeling well.”
Jane looked at Elizabeth reproachfully. “Now, Lizzy, be nice. It might be a flu bug, you know.”
Elizabeth glanced sardonically at her aunt. “Trust me, it’s the after-effects of all the drinking they did last night.”
“I take it they cut a wide swath at the party?” Madeline asked.
“Oh, yes. It was embarrassing to have them acting that way in front of the other guests.” Elizabeth tried not to think of one particular guest whose impressions of her family had especially worried her.
Madeline shook her head. “Those girls. And Francie just encourages them. Well, enough about them. I suppose we can work on making phone calls till your family gets here. But it’s still a bit early to start that, isn’t it?”
“Would you like some breakfast?” Jane asked. “I don’t have a lot of food here, but I’m sure I could find something to fix.”
“We got a bite at the hotel—we were up early because of the time difference. But if you’re hungry, we’d be happy to take you out to breakfast,” Edward said. “No sense in you having to cook this morning.”
Jane shook her head. “I’m not hungry, really. What about you, Lizzy?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Elizabeth said, waving her hand in dismissal. “But you should eat something. This is going to be a difficult day for you.”
“Really, I couldn’t eat, not now.” Jane suddenly burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.
Elizabeth hurried to Jane’s side. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to push you about eating.”
“No, that’s not it,” Jane sobbed. “I was thinking about Charles, and wondering if he’s as miserable as I am this morning. I bet he is, and it’s all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault. Charles lied to you. He wouldn’t stand up for you. You did what you had to do.”
“But I still hurt him terribly by breaking the engagement. And to do it the night before the wedding! He must be devastated. I wish I could at least know that he’s all right. It would make me feel so much better.”
At Madeline’s urging, Jane sat down beside her on the sofa, resting her head on her aunt’s shoulder. Her tears gradually stopped. Elizabeth looked on, her own eyes growing wet. She was not ordinarily prone to tears; in fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the urge to cry so often. She hated having to stand by and watch Jane suffer, and she wanted desperately to do something, anything, to help.
Elizabeth went to the kitchen and located Jane’s phone book. She found the number for the Ritz-Carlton, dialed the number, and asked for William’s suite. She was certain that William would be in close contact with Charles and would be willing to offer a report on his condition. She fidgeted as the phone rang repeatedly, expecting at any moment to hear William’s deep, resonant voice, but instead the hotel voicemail system picked up the call.
Maybe he went out for his run after all. Elizabeth checked the clock—it was a few minutes after 8:30—and considered her options. There would be no harm in trying to “accidentally” bump into William during his run in order to casually inquire about Charles. Assuming that he’d taken her advice, she might find him at Crissy Field. And I could use some fresh air if I’m going to make it through this day on only four hours of sleep.
She went to her room, put on her sandals, and grabbed her wallet and a denim jacket. She started to brush her hair into a pony tail but then changed her mind, absently fingering a lock of hair as she gazed at herself in the mirror.
When Elizabeth returned to the living room, Jane was deep in conversation with the Gardiners. “You know, I’m kind of hungry after all,” Elizabeth said in a deliberately casual tone. “I might go out and get myself some breakfast, and maybe go for a short walk.”
Jane looked up and nodded. “Go ahead. I’ve decided it might help to talk to Aunt Madeline and Uncle Edward about the situation after all, and you’ve already heard the whole story.”
“I know,” Elizabeth said, “but I’d be happy to stay if you want me to.”
“Go get some fresh air, Lizzy,” Jane replied. “It’ll be good for you. Yesterday wasn’t an easy day for you either.”
“Can I bring you back a bagel, maybe?” Elizabeth offered.
“Thanks, but I’m fine. Aunt Madeline and Uncle Edward will take good care of me till you get back, so don’t worry about me.”
“We certainly will,” Edward said with a reassuring smile.
“Just be back before Mom gets here, okay?” Jane’s eyes were anxious.
Elizabeth nodded. “I promise.”
She walked down the hill to the bus stop. She felt nervous flutters in her stomach, and wondered why. I’m just on a mission to help Jane, that’s all. Besides, there’s no guarantee that I’ll even find him there.
William’s face, his eyes warm and intense, filled her mind, and she sensed that he had been in her dream too. She had a brief, perplexing flash of herself standing near him with a tape measure in her hand. This must have been the weirdest dream I’ve ever had, she thought, as her bus arrived and she climbed aboard.
William
ran along the Golden Gate Promenade, a walkway following San Francisco Bay stretching from
Fort Point Coast Guard Station to the Yacht Harbor over three miles away. It was a beautiful,
clear morning. The waves in the bay sparkled and danced under a crystal blue sky. He slowed
his pace slightly, engrossed by the majestic sight of the Golden Gate Bridge ahead of him,
still partially hidden by the gradually dissipating fog. Birds that he couldn’t identify
swooped through the sky, crying to one another. He took a deep breath, and smelled the faint
scent of the ocean in the damp morning air. Elizabeth was certainly right about this place.
It’s magnificent.
The sun was becoming warmer, helping to counteract the chilling effect of the breeze blowing off the ocean. In fact, between the sun’s warmth and the heat generated by his physical exertion, he felt almost too warm. He unzipped his windbreaker partway and wiped the sweatband on his wrist across his forehead.
Running was William’s favorite physical activity—or, at least, his second favorite. And of those two choices, it was the one in which he engaged far more often, a fact that he considered extremely unfortunate.
He had originally started running out of a desire to emulate Richard, who had made the cross country team at school. William, who was eleven at the time, had idolized his 15-year-old cousin, and had secretly begun to accompany Richard on runs in Central Park. At first, William had tired easily, struggling unsuccessfully to keep up, but he had kept working with dogged determination until finally, to the surprise of both boys, his speed and endurance nearly equaled Richard’s.
Had things been different, William might have eventually made the cross country team himself. But his mother would never have allowed it. His expression pensive, he remembered the day Mrs. Reynolds had found his running shoes hidden in his closet and had taken them to his mother. He could still hear his mother’s frightened voice as she berated him for his recklessness in the mixture of English and Italian she tended to use when under stress. She had confiscated the shoes and had forbidden him to run in the future.
Poor Mamma. But she thought she was protecting me. William had continued to run—by then it had become almost an addiction for him—but had taken care that his mother would not find out, his new running shoes safely stashed in Richard’s closet at the Fitzwilliams’ Fifth Avenue penthouse.
Almost twenty years later, Richard and William still ran together in Central Park on occasion; however, William usually preferred to run alone. It was his time to recharge his mental batteries. Sometimes he rehearsed music for upcoming concerts, envisioning his fingers moving confidently over the keyboard. At other times, he worked on problems related to his family’s arts foundation, evaluating courses of action and developing strategies.
On this particular morning, he had two problems to think about, neither of which had anything to do with the foundation. The first problem was sprawled, semi-conscious, on the couch in his suite. Charles had a wicked hangover, a predictable consequence of the amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before. William, who had sipped a single glass of scotch all evening, had begun to water down Charles’s drinks as soon as his friend’s taste buds had been sufficiently compromised that he would fail to notice. In spite of William’s subterfuge, Charles had consumed a prodigious amount of liquor in a short time.
William had left for his run after handing Charles some ibuprofen tablets and a glass of water. He had ordered Charles to stay where he was and to get some additional rest. Given the weak groan he had received in response, William was certain that Charles would follow those instructions to the letter.
After William returned from his run, he and Charles needed to have a long talk, to make sure that Charles didn’t do anything rash in his current emotionally devastated condition. William wondered if he should invite Charles to return to New York with him for a visit, perhaps for the intended duration of the now-cancelled honeymoon. No, that’s right, I’ve got all those trips coming up, so I won’t really be there. Well, then, as soon as Georgie’s out of school for the summer, I’ll take her to Pemberley for a week or two and invite Charles to join us.
William’s reverie was interrupted by a mild throbbing in his head. He slowed his pace still more, massaging his forehead. Like Charles, William had not started the morning in the best condition, though in his case it had nothing to do with alcohol consumption. He had awakened very early with a severe headache and had experienced a dizzy spell while attempting to get dressed. Some ibuprofen and 30 minutes of additional rest had left him feeling somewhat better.
But now, less than halfway through his usual running distance, his breathing was labored,
his headache was returning, and his heart rate seemed higher than it should have been, given
his level of conditioning. Better make it a short run today, I guess. But this isn’t
at all surprising. I probably got less than three hours of sleep last night, and not much
more the night before. There’s nothing to worry about, nothing at all.
Summoning his strength and determination, he resumed his usual running pace. The promenade ended, depositing him on a road leading to Fort Point, an old fort nestled beneath the Golden Gate Bridge. Okay. Regular, deep, slow breaths. Efficient use of oxygen—that’s the key. And I need something to think about besides feeling tired.
Had William’s mind been more at ease, he might have occupied himself with observing
the wildflowers blanketing the hill to his left, or the surf crashing against the rocks to
his right; however, he had other things to ponder. Elizabeth Bennet. My second problem.
After Charles had finally fallen asleep—or perhaps just into an inebriated stupor—William had retreated to his bedroom. His head had barely made contact with his down pillow when a tantalizing vision of Elizabeth filled his mind. She stood beside the bed in a diaphanous nightgown, her lush curves revealed to his avid gaze, her eyes alight with passion as she held out her hand to him in mute invitation. His body had reacted predictably to this enticing image, and he had finally been compelled to seek some much-needed relief from his evening of unrelenting sexual frustration.
Afterwards as he lay on the bed, his eyes closed, his breathing gradually returning to normal, he was relieved to find that the ache in his body was quelled. His respite, though, was brief. When he finally succumbed to sleep, she invaded his dreams, teasing and tempting him yet remaining just out of reach, driving him to fresh agonies of frustrated desire.
He was alarmed by the speed with which Elizabeth Bennet had burrowed deep into his thoughts. He hated losing control, and she seemed to cause him to do just that. To his chagrin, his body’s instinctive reactions had taken charge where she was concerned, until the slightest thought of her had the power to ignite fierce desire in him, provoking lustful fantasies of a warm, inviting Elizabeth whose passion matched his own.
What is it about her that’s making me this way? William was completely perplexed.
He had known her for only a day, yet in this short time she had cast a powerful spell over
him. He puzzled over the matter, searching for an explanation. Yes, she’s interesting,
and she’s very pretty, so it’s not surprising that I would be attracted to her.
But this is ridiculous. After all, I know plenty of women just as intriguing as Elizabeth …
don’t I?
William reached the fort. He stopped briefly to take a quick swig from a water bottle in his jacket pocket and then, turning a wide circle, began to run back towards Crissy Field as he pondered that unexpectedly profound question.
Elizabeth stood on the Golden Gate Promenade at Crissy Field, her eyes restlessly scanning the walkway. She had found William’s red Z3 in the parking lot, so she knew that if she waited long enough, he would appear. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger, her face tense as doubts about the wisdom of her plan flooded her anxious mind.
You’re such an idiot. How are you going to keep a straight face while claiming
to have accidentally bumped into him here? You’re the one who suggested that he come
here in the first place. So when he sees you, he’s going to think that you were so desperate
to see him that you decided to stalk him, like some crazed fan.
She sighed and forced herself to think more constructively. As in most awkward situations, honesty was probably the best policy. She would simply explain that Jane was concerned about Charles. It would have to be done carefully. Elizabeth remembered with great pride Jane’s immense dignity and composure in the lounge last night. She would have to take care not to undermine that impression by revealing how upset Jane had actually been beneath her calm surface. Still, after breaking the engagement, especially so close to the wedding, Jane would have to be heartless not to feel solicitous of Charles’s welfare. So I can inquire about Charles without revealing Jane’s feelings. And that way William won’t think I’m here to see him. Because I’m not … no, I’m definitely not.
She drew in a sharp breath when she saw a tall, dark-haired man running toward her along the Promenade. It was William. His tautly muscled legs, revealed by black running shorts, covered the ground in long, powerful strides. As she watched, he slowed his pace and finally stopped, looking out at the bay and breathing hard. He removed the jacket he wore, and Elizabeth gaped at him, unable to tear her eyes away. His white tank top afforded a peek at his broad chest, lightly covered with soft brown hair, and left his even broader shoulders bare. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on his skin. Wow, he looks good. No, he looks magnificent.
Before she could collect her faculties sufficiently to call out to him, his eyes fell on her, widening in surprise. He quickly covered the short distance between them.
“Elizabeth?” He sounded breathless as he stood in front of her, his jacket dangling awkwardly from one hand.
“Hi, William,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. As she had watched him approach her, she had felt a confused flash of recognition. Why does this seem so familiar?
“I wasn’t expecting—that is … it’s good to see you.” He pressed his lips together and glanced down at himself, frowning slightly. He ran one hand through his hair, his chest still heaving from his exertion.
With William standing so close to her, Elizabeth could barely breathe. His jaw was covered with dark brown stubble—obviously he hadn’t shaved before setting out on his run—and his hair had been ruffled by the wind. His appearance was in sharp contrast to the elegantly dressed, perfectly groomed public figure with whom she was familiar. In his current disheveled state, he exuded an aura of powerful virility that was devastating to her composure. She stared at his throat, hypnotized, as a bead of moisture traveled slowly downwards, tracing a path over his Adam’s apple on its way to his chest. She licked her lips reflexively as she had an improbable memory of kissing his warm, salty skin. Of course that never happened. I must be losing my mind.
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, forcing herself to at least appear composed. “I hope you don’t mind my coming here this morning.”
“No, of course not,” William answered quickly. “I didn’t expect to see you again before I went home, but I’m glad I was wrong about that.”
“We—Jane and I—were concerned about Charles. I called you at the hotel this morning to ask if you knew how he was doing, but you weren’t there. I remembered our conversation about running, and I thought I might find you here.” There. That sounded completely reasonable.
“He spent the night on the couch in my suite. He was very upset last night. I don’t know how he’s feeling this morning, other than that he’s hung over—he wasn’t fully awake when I left.”
“Oh. I see. Well, anyway, I’m glad you’re keeping an eye on him. I feel very sorry for him, even if he did really blow it with Jane.”
Elizabeth saw him frown at her remark. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I know he’s your friend and I didn’t mean to imply—”
“No, it’s all right. He was wrong to lie to Jane and his parents. He thought he could make everyone happy, but that’s just not the way the world works. You have to make choices and live with the consequences. I told him that he was making a mistake with his lies.”
“You knew what he was doing?” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, her voice cool. She hadn’t suspected that William was Charles’s co-conspirator.
His frown deepened. “He told me at lunch yesterday. But he wouldn’t listen to reason. And I certainly couldn’t betray his confidence by telling anyone,” he said in a clipped tone, lifting his chin.
“No, of course not,” she agreed quickly. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have reacted that way. It wasn’t your place to tell Jane—that was Charles’s job.”
William nodded slightly, and the tension between them abated. “But I do feel badly that Mr. Bingley overheard me out on the courtyard talking to Charles,” he admitted. “Once I found out that Caroline knew about the pre-nup, I knew she wouldn’t let it rest, and I was warning Charles when Mr. Bingley heard us. So what happened is partly my fault.”
“No, it’s not!” She was surprised at the vehemence with which she found herself defending William. “Like you said, Caroline knew about it, and she wasn’t going to let the matter drop. You were just being a good friend and trying to give Charles a chance to fix the situation before it blew up. It wasn’t your fault that Mr. Bingley overheard.”
He looked at her, his eyes warm with gratitude. “Thank you.”
They stood together in awkward silence. William shoved one hand into the pocket of his shorts, shifting from one foot to another. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Would you like to go for a walk on the beach?”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to interrupt your run,” she said, stammering slightly. She again felt a sense of familiarity. There’s something about him standing here and asking me to go somewhere with him. What is it?
“It wouldn’t be an interruption at all. I’m done running for today.”
“Are you sure you have time? You don’t need to get back to Charles?”
He
checked his watch. “It’s only 9:30. I think Charles will be sleeping for a while
yet.”
“Then I’d love to. I came down here partly for a walk and some fresh air.”
He inclined his head in the direction of the water. “Shall we?” Together, they walked toward the beach.
When they reached the sandy strand along the bay, Elizabeth slipped off her sandals. “I love walking barefoot on the sand.” She sighed happily, wiggling her toes. “Do you like the beach?”
“Yes, I do,” he answered quietly. After a moment’s hesitation, he removed
his running shoes, set them on the ground beside her sandals, and then dropped his jacket
on top of his shoes.
They wandered down the beach in companionable silence, taking in the sights and sounds of the waterfront. Although the beach was relatively deserted, a few others strolled along the water’s edge, some with dogs running excited circles around them, barking in delight. A smattering of sailboats dotted the bay in the distance, their snowy white sails filled by the fresh breeze.
“By the way, thank you for recommending that I come down here to run. It was the perfect choice,” he said.
“I’m glad. I love the waterfront. There’s something about it that’s calming and energizing all at the same time.” She sighed blissfully, relishing the sound of the water lapping against the shore.
They fell silent again, watching a cargo ship steam under the Golden Gate Bridge and into the bay. “It’s so beautiful here in the morning,” she said. “Were you here early enough to see the bridge engulfed in fog?”
“Yes,
I was.”
“Wasn’t it an incredible sight?”
William chuckled. “Yes, though I must say that driving on the bridge through that fog was a bit disconcerting.”
Elizabeth eyed him with a sly smile. “Oh, so you drove on the bridge, did you? Don’t tell me you got lost on your way here in spite of that ‘excellent sense of direction’ of yours!”
He pressed his lips together and looked away, and she was certain that she saw his cheeks redden.
“I knew it!” she crowed. “And I warned you!”
“All right, I admit it. I took a wrong turn. But that’s okay. Now I can say I’ve driven on the Golden Gate Bridge.”
“I can see it now. By the end of the day, you’ll be telling everybody that you did it on purpose.”
She laughed, her eyes alight with mischief. The wind whipped her hair into an unruly mass of locks. He reached out slowly and smoothed her hair back from her face, his hand lingering in her curls.
“Thanks, but I think it’s hopeless,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was pretty stupid to come here with my hair down. I must be a mess.”
He shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. He stepped closer to her, touching her cheek in a soft caress.
Elizabeth felt herself melting under the heat of William’s steady gaze. His hand moved from her cheek to stroke her jaw, tipping her chin up as his head descended slowly toward hers. As she gazed into his dark, hungry eyes, her dream flooded back into her mind in a disconcerting rush of detail. She gasped and stepped backwards, stumbling slightly.
Oh, no. I dreamed about him, and he was naked? And he had his hands and mouth on my body? And we were going to—
Her hands flew to her fiery cheeks as she struggled to regain her composure. She looked up at him and felt a rush of sympathy when she saw a mixture of confusion and guilt on his face.
“I’m so sorry, I never meant to upset you by—” he stepped away from her as he spoke.
“No, William, that’s not it, really.” Elizabeth, though still flustered, instinctively grabbed his hand. “I just—well, I had a rather disturbing dream last night, and I’ve been trying to remember it. The details just came back to me all at once and startled me.”
He glanced down at their hands, and for a moment she expected him to pull his hand out of her grasp. Then she felt the tension drain from his body, and he looked up at her, his expression neutral but slightly wary. “It must have been quite a dream,” he remarked. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
Her blush returned in full force. “No, that’s okay. It would probably just bore you. I’m sorry to be such an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” he answered gently after a brief pause. “It’s okay.” He turned his hand in hers so that their fingers were intertwined, and they resumed their progress down the beach.
William was perplexed by her reaction to his attempted kiss, but judging from her frequent shy smiles as they wandered along the shoreline, she hadn’t intended to reject him. He was thoroughly enjoying himself, relishing the warmth of the sun, the fresh breeze off the bay, and especially the gentle pressure of her palm against his.
“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?” she said, breaking the companionable silence into which they had fallen while strolling side by side.
“What?”
“That we don’t even need Caroline Bingley to interrupt us. I can do it all by myself!”
He stopped walking and turned to face her, chuckling, her hand still in his. “I don’t
think Caroline would be caught dead down here anyway. It’s nowhere near fashionable enough.”
“I don’t know. I get the impression that Caroline would do just about anything to stake her claim on you. I half expect to see her rise up out of the bay any second in a wet suit, snorkel, and mask, and storm over here like the Creature from the Black Lagoon.”
William’s shout of laughter startled some birds feasting at the water’s edge, and they dispersed in a flurry of scampering feet and flapping wings. He smiled in sheer delight at Elizabeth, feeling an ache in his heart even stronger than the one in his body. She was a vital life force—sparkling and laughing and so very alive—and he had to kiss her. He stepped forward until their bodies almost touched, barely restraining himself from drawing her into his arms.
“You have a great laugh and a wonderful smile,” she said softly. “You should use them more often.”
“Yes,” he murmured, cupping her face in his hands, her delicate skin like silk under his fingers. “I think you’re right.” Her green eyes shone softly, like a fertile field in mid-summer, but he saw uncertainty in her smile. Undaunted, he lowered his head inch by inch, anticipating the moment when he would finally know the taste and feel of her mouth. At last his lips brushed hers in a tentative, feather-light caress.
He had kissed other women, but never had the experience been so exquisite. He wondered how such a soft kiss could steal his breath and make every nerve ending tingle with unfulfilled longing. Elizabeth seemed affected as well—she placed both hands on his chest to steady herself, sighing quietly.
His lips left hers and he raised his head, staring intently into her eyes. She looked dazed at first. Then he saw clarity return, and she stepped away from him, biting her lip and staring in the direction of the water.
His body and brain were making contradictory, and very urgent, demands. He ached to crush her in his arms and kiss her again, this time in a thorough, unhurried exploration of her mouth. But his brain warned him that this was not one of his heated fantasies in which Elizabeth yielded herself to him willingly, even eagerly. This was reality, and he could tell that she was uncomfortable with the increased intimacy between them. Control yourself, or you may frighten her away altogether.
“It’s getting warmer, isn’t it?” she asked in an unsteady voice. She removed her denim jacket and smiled awkwardly at him.
He barely suppressed an agonized groan when he saw what she wore under the jacket. Her snug white blouse clung to her body, revealing curves even more voluptuous than those prominently featured in his fantasies. Her breasts swayed slightly as she moved, and his mouth went dry. He turned away from her abruptly, attempting to conceal his body’s powerful response. Under the guise of stretching his leg muscles, he adjusted his shorts and tried to pacify his traitorous body. This is absurd. I haven’t been like this since … I’ve never been like this.
Swallowing hard, he turned back to her, forcing his eyes to stay on her face. “Elizabeth?”
“Yes?”
“May I call you once we get back to New York? Perhaps we could go to dinner, or to a concert?” He could no longer pretend that he would forget her once he returned home. He had to see her again, if only to get her out of his system.
She was silent for a moment and then nodded, unsmiling. “Yes, I think I’d like that.”
“Good. Excellent. Thank you.” William suddenly had a very nervous stomach, but he wasn’t sure why. It’s just a dinner date, not a marriage proposal.
She gazed off into the distance. “I suppose I should be getting back to Jane.”
“I need to check on Charles, too. But would you have time for a quick cup of coffee first?” He wasn’t ready to let her go.
“I’d love to, but I think I’d better get going. Jane wanted me to be there when our parents arrive, and I’m not sure what time that will be.”
“I have my cell phone in the car. You could call Jane and see if she needs you yet. And I’ll call Charles. And then if things work out, we could get some coffee.”
Elizabeth considered this idea. “All right, I suppose that would work. Thank you.”
She turned and walked across the sand to the place where they had left their shoes with William following behind. He tried not to notice the graceful curves of her hips and derriere, accentuated by her slim-fitting black pants. And he did his best to ignore her bare back, visible through the gauzy shirt and offering incontrovertible proof that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He felt himself growing aroused again, and in sheer desperation he forced himself to look away. I’ve got to get myself under control before I do something really stupid.
When they reached his car, William unlocked it and handed Elizabeth his cell phone. “I’m going to be optimistic and assume that you’ll have time for coffee with me,” he said. “And that means that I should clean myself up a bit—I’m hardly dressed to go out for breakfast.” He glanced down at his sweat-dampened tank top and his running shorts with a self-deprecating grin.
“You look … just fine,” she answered in as calm a tone as she could manage.
She was surprised to find herself hoping fervently that Jane didn’t need her at home
yet. “And we could go to a place that has sidewalk seating, if you want. You’d probably
feel more comfortable being casual if we’re outside.”
“Thanks, but I won’t feel right about it if I don’t straighten myself up, especially since you look so nice. I have a tee shirt and sweatpants with me—I brought them in case it was cold out here. While you’re on the phone, I’ll just go change in that building I saw across the marsh. I assume they’ll have a public rest room.”
Elizabeth
nodded. “That’s Crissy Field Center. In fact, you know what? I think I heard that
they have a little café in there.”
“Well, that’s convenient.”
“Yes. I was going to suggest that we go to The Grove, but it would be faster to have
our coffee right here. Then we don’t have to worry about finding a parking space over
on Chestnut Street.”
“Staying here sounds perfect. And in that case, I suppose we might as well take the phone with us and walk over to the Center now.”
William retrieved a small towel and a bundle of clothing from the passenger seat of the car and then locked the doors. “Ready?” he asked, flashing the same boyish, dimpled smile that had touched Elizabeth’s heart last night in the courtyard.
Elizabeth felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach. “Yes, I’m ready.” But as they walked together along the walkway toward Crissy Field Center, she questioned her words. Something is happening here, and I don’t think I am ready. Not at all.
Copyright © 2006 by the author
Last updated
September 23, 2006