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FITZWILLIAM REGRETTED his words, or at least how he’d delivered them. He had been making a magnanimous gesture, and her revilement of it was puzzling. How could she not benefit from such an arrangement as being Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy? How could he do anything less than decorum dictated, nay demanded, and offer for her hand if and when they were rescued?
The two of them were alone on this island, and with no chaperone, they could get up to all manner of impropriety. Society would insist on their marriage to preserve both their standings.
His breeches got tight at the thought of all the improprieties in which they might engage. He cleared his throat as he realized perhaps he wasn’t as disadvantaged as he’d considered to start with. This opportunity gave him the perfect excuse to stop resisting his attraction to Lizzy and to claim her as his own.
Especially here, on this island, it was a distant concept that she didn’t have the right social standing and was burdened by such a family. No one among their acquaintance could blame either of them for finding comfort in each other as long as they were prepared to behave appropriately and fall in with societal expectations when they were rescued.
Indeed, Lizzy was practically his wife already, barring only the formalities...and the wedding night. He groaned as need tightened his groin, responding to the mental image of her sitting on him, taking his length inside her hot, slick core.
He banished the thought as much as he could, knowing he was no callow youth, and he refused to indulge in self-pleasure when there was a possibility she might catch him in the act. He could imagine nothing more humiliating, so he turned his attention back to preparing their fish.
He was unsurprised when she returned almost an hour later, this time with the sweet orange fruits in hand. Neither of them knew the name of it, but it was oval with red and orange skin and golden flesh, with a sweet, slightly tart taste. They had both discovered a liking for it the day before. She handed him two without speaking and took two for herself before sitting down near him. He passed her leaf-wrapped filets he’d kept warm near the fire, and she opened the packet without looking at him.
He cleared his throat. “My wording was unfortunate, Lizzy. I did not mean to imply it would be a great burden to marry you.”
She looked up at him through narrowed eyes. “I suggest this is a conversation we do not revisit, Mr. Darcy.”
He winced at the continued use of his surname. “Lizzy, will you please relent and call me Will? Let us talk this through. I did not mean to insult you. When the time comes to offer you for you, I shall do so gladly. We are practically already married, such as circumstances are arranged for us.”
She scoffed. “We are anything but, Mr. Darcy. We have had very little impropriety between us, and it shall remain that way. Society will have no cause to insist on our marriage if we just explain—”
He laughed, a genuine belly laugh, though he hated her to think he was mocking her. “I do not wish to disillusion you, but you must know how naïve that sounds. Society will think what they wish, and they will always interpret actions in the most sordid way possible. Indeed, the only way to preserve either one of our reputations is for us to marry.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “We will be going to America. No one there will know me, and they certainly shall not know about this incident. I see no reason why we would ever have to marry.”
He gritted his teeth, wanting to continue to persuade her, but he was afraid it would just push her away rather than get her to concede to the necessity of their marriage. Now that he had embraced the idea, he was impatient for her to do the same, but he counseled himself to give her time and space. “Perhaps it will never be an issue then.”
She nodded. “Undoubtedly.”
He couldn’t help wondering if it would be an issue if and when she capitulated to the attraction between them. If that led to a child, he would have to insist on marriage even if she were trying to be stubborn. No Darcy heir would be born out of wedlock, and he doubted even Lizzy was independent enough to try to insist otherwise.
***
FITZWILLIAM DID HIS best to maintain his patience over the next several days, behaving with care and concern, all with the goal of deepening their interactions. At first, she kept him at a distance, and though she called him Will, there was no sense that she meant it in a friendly or intimate way. It seemed to be a chore for her to say his name, but as he persisted, the days passing with frightful slowness due to lack of activity once they had secured food for each day, he could see her softening toward him.
When he fashioned a chessboard for them and retrieved shells of similar colors but different enough to be two sets of playing pieces, he saw the first signs of true softening in her. She smiled with pleasure, and they spent the rest of the day engaged in chess. She was a formidable opponent, and Fitzwilliam was surprised to lose more than he won. He might’ve been irked if it had been someone else, but Lizzy was so genuinely vibrant and intelligent that he couldn’t find it in him to mind she could outwit him on several occasions.
He had a feeling she could completely undo him, and he was eager for that to happen. They had been on their island for a little more than a week when he admitted to himself he was in love with her. Perhaps he shouldn’t have known her long enough, but between the time they’d spent here and on the ship, he’d fallen for her fine eyes, pert words, and womanly charms. He ached to possess her, though he was uncertain of her feelings for him.
That morning, she emerged from the shelter well past him, having overslept. He smiled at her as he presented a makeshift tray made from leaves adorned with bananas, coconut, and those orange fruits. “I have tried and failed my hand at fishing yet again, Lizzy, so it is incumbent upon you to save us once more.”
She giggled as she took the plate of fruit and sat down on a rock. They had spent some time improving their shelter, including find two flat rocks and another larger one that worked as a crude table. She placed her makeshift plate on it now and started eating. “I shall attempt to catch fish after breakfast then.”
“I shall be endeavoring to catch something else.”
She looked up at him, clearly intrigued. “To what do you refer, Will?”
“Just this morning, I saw a wild boar when I was retrieving the bananas. Pork sounds quite lovely, does it not?”
She nodded, licking her lips with anticipation. “That would be most splendid, but are you certain it is safe? You do not have a musket.”
His spine stiffened. “I beg your pardon, Miss Bennet, but I am certain I can handle taking on a boar with a spear.”
She seemed on the verge of giggling. “It is true boar might not be quite as fast as fish.”
“Impudent.” With those words, he rushed toward her, and she giggled as she got to her feet and started running. Fitzwilliam caught up with her shortly, bringing her down to the sand. He tickled her until she was pink in the face and begging for him to stop. “Retract your insult, Miss Bennet,” he said in a stiff tone, though he was unable to stifle his amusement.
She squirmed underneath him. “Fine. I retract the truth.”
“You are an irredeemable chit.” He continued to tickle her, realizing abruptly the way she was rubbing against him felt good in an entirely different way than just the camaraderie between them. His cock was growing heavy with need, and he ached to slide inside her.
Abruptly, he sat back, trying to control those urges. He was not opposed to anticipating their wedding vows, but he did not wish to rush Lizzy or make her think he wanted something corrupt from her and nothing permanent. “I shall accept your weak apology.”
If she realized why he’d withdrawn abruptly, she gave no indication. She was grinning, appearing as carefree as ever. “I have every confidence you shall overtake the boar, Mr. Darcy.” She winked at him. “A gentleman like you could do no less.”
She got to her feet, brushing off the nightdress she wore. It was ragged around the edges now and had crept up to midthigh rather than knee-level. He knew she must take it off sometimes to wash in the water, and she’d been to swim in the freshwater a few times, as had he. They acted as lookouts for each other, ensuring no animals approached, and it took every ounce of strength he had not to turn around and peek at her as she bathed, but he had maintained gentlemanly behavior in that regard.
He set out shortly after, having spent a good part of the morning whittling a few new spears while waiting for Lizzy to awaken and present her with the bounty of fruit and the news he was going hunting.
He had never hunted wild boar, but he didn’t expect it to be much different from deer, and he tracked it successfully until he had it penned in an area against the rocks jutting from the cliff face near the water. Up close, the boar was more fearsome than he’d expected, with wickedly sharp tusks, but he was determined to provide protein for himself and Lizzy. She had become good at spearing fish, but there were still far more meals of fruit than anything else, and he didn’t want her to weaken. He didn’t want to weaken either, since it was his duty to protect her.
He lunged forward with a spear, landing only a glancing blow on in the hind quarter of the boar. He pulled it back as the animal turned, screeching at him in rage. Fitzwilliam had another spear ready to go, but the boar pushed right through it, running at him with great speed he had not expected. He scrambled up a nearby tree, but the tusk of the creature dug a deep furrow into his leg as it took a chunk of him while running by.
He cursed, looking down at the wound and wincing. He wasn’t far from the waterhole, so he made his way there slowly, limping as he immersed his leg in the fresh water.
He looked up at the sound of movement through the jungle, grasping the spear he still held. He was afraid it was the boar coming back, perhaps determined to finish him off, but instead, Lizzy emerged from the undergrowth a moment later. She smiled at him at first until she realized there was a problem. “What is wrong?”
He looked away, flushing from the heat of embarrassment. “I am afraid the boar got the best of me.”
She rushed toward him, uncaring he was submerged in the water. She leaned down, feeling his leg for herself, apparently not realizing she was perched on his thigh to do so. Having her heated flesh so close to his skin, with only the wool of his breeches he had cut off to above the knee and her nightdress separating them was enough to make him hard, and it temporarily took away the pain.
“You might need stitches.”
“We do not have such supplies.” He sighed. “I am sorry, Lizzy. I planned a different outcome.”
She shrugged. “Animals are unpredictable. Let me help you up and back to our camp.” She ignored his protest as she stood up, aiding him from the water and having him lean on her.
Fitzwilliam did his best to support most of his weight, but it was helpful to have her assistance. When they returned to their shelter a short time later, he collapsed onto the sand. He just wanted to rest and allow the wound to heal for a bit. He thought it would be a minor inconvenience. His pride stung far worse than his leg.