"Your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

The words hung in the air as Darcy stared down at her; his face mere inches from hers; the tension palpable to both parties. Darcy wanted to turn away, but that tension, which for her was fueled by righteous rage, was for him the spark that ignited a powder keg of passion within him. He had suppressed this emotion for so long that the explosion this spark brought was all-consuming.

His initial movement was cautious for only a split second, for as soon as his lips met hers any thought of controlling himself left with his ability to do so. Elizabeth was immediately accosted by Darcy's tongue between her lips which were conveniently parted before he made contact. The kiss, from Darcy's perspective was a white-hot kiss of pure passion. He threw his arms around her and held her with such force there was no chance of her moving away.

Darcy's complete binding of her arms to her sides had not yet become a problem because Elizabeth was too much in shock to have made any attempt to remove them. She stood there motionless for at least the first minute of the kiss. Darcy used this to his advantage by pulling her even tighter to him and moving her against the wall of the temple folly that sheltered them from the rain. The wall had a small ledge, an edging really, about 3 inches wide just high enough that by Darcy situating Elizabeth's bottom on it, she could no longer touch the ground. His body held her firmly against the wall.

Having achieved this level of control over his object of desire, he removed his hand from around her to travel down her body. Leaning down slightly without breaking contact with her lips, he scooped his hands around her thighs and brought them up and around his waist, still pinning her to the wall with his chest.

Now that some of the initial shock had worn off and her arms were free, Elizabeth came to her senses somewhat. Though a little lightheaded, she pushed at her captor, attempting to free her lips and her body from his grasp. Her strength was not enough to overcome him especially in her fuzzy state of mind. He merely pinned her head against the wall with his mouth more forcefully on hers and grabbed her hands away from their attempts to push and punch him. She did not have the presence of mind to attempt anything else-biting his tongue, for example, would not be contemplated, not when it was producing such a strong sensation in her.

Darcy had no thought of releasing her. He was used to getting what he wanted and at this moment it did not occur to him that that particular attitude was part of why he had just been rejected and why this kiss was an act of force on his side rather than mutual desire. The only thing his mind and body knew was that he wanted her with ever cell and fiber in his being. He could not conceive of releasing her when this touch, this feel was all he had dreamed of for months. Her struggles were nothing, the effect of modesty and her innocence. He would not take that from her, or even truly wish her to submit easily. She would not be the lively women he fell in love with if she did not react to such an assault. The only thought truly present in his mind was a desire to elicit the same passion in her as he felt for her.

Elizabeth did not know what was happening. At first she had been overcome-what was this man, this so-called gentleman, doing to her? What was he thinking? To dare to breach propriety in such a blatant manor! When he released her arms she realized, after somewhat of a delay, that he was compromising her honor and that she should not be allowing it. She pushed and struggled, then, in her daze, but knew long before she tried that she would fail. The little oxygen she had was being used for the sole purpose of speeding the beating of her heart, which left precious little for her brain and practically none to move her arms, certainly not with force.

She did not know how he had the strength he did as he must be lacking oxygen by now as well, but he unhurriedly gripped her wrists and ceased her movements with ease. His grip was firm but not painful. When she had desisted in her fighting enough he moved her hands above her head and held both of them with his right hand against the wall. They were both surprised at his ease in accomplishing and maintaining this posture. He had expected her to fight. She had expected her arms to obey her commands to resist him.

Despite Elizabeth becoming increasingly lightheaded, she was aware of the hard bulge growing, pressed against her center. This awareness brought her the realization that her legs were around him and holding on to him rather tightly in a way she had not intended or consciously chosen.

Darcy seemed to become aware of his placement at approximately the same moment, for he began to rock, gently against her. He felt her stiffen ever so slightly at the added pressure to her center. Neither the kiss nor the rocking ceased as he moved his free hand from her cheek, down her neck and to her chest. His gentle grazes, first above her neckline, then around the outside of her breast only intensified his feelings. He quickly proceeded to a massage what he could with her pressed up against him. Soon realizing he had little access, his hand worked his way farther down her body. He rubbed his palm over her hip and under her thigh, rubbing up and down the back of it. He could feel the tension and control she was trying so desperately to maintain draining away from her and increased his thrusting.

When he knew she had finally submitted herself to his ministrations and was beyond the point of rejecting his further efforts he released her mouth. She took a gasp of air as he began a torturous course down her neck, never ceasing his other movements. Her pants for air became interspersed with small moans. Her head was still against the wall with her eyes rolled back in their sockets. He stopped and looked at her with a smirk of satisfaction. It was only long enough to garner her attention to his look before he captured her mouth once more. Again her lips had been conveniently parted and she could not force his tongue away-indeed the struggle of her tongue to do so only seemed to increase his efforts to remain. The pleasure of it was shocking all of her senses; she hated this man! Loathed him! How could he produce such feelings in her!

Then his hand did the most shocking thing thus far: it found its way under her skirt. The slow course up her leg was almost enough for Darcy to lose his purpose-the softness of her skin and how it seemed electrified at his touch. He moaned against her lips and continued up her leg. Once there he rubbed gently on the soft skin on the innermost part of her thigh. As a noise came from deep within her he move more centrally. He allowed the one thin layer of her undergarments under his fingers (he was a gentleman after all, he would allow her at least some dignity) but placed them on her most sensitive spot and began to roll it around in sync with his rocking hips.

Elizabeth was completely limp in his arms now. He released her mouth again to kiss down the other side of her neck. Her head fell to the side, resting on his shoulder, allowing him more access to the base of her neck. Then, almost suddenly, he felt her body contract. He rubbed harder and thrust faster. Removing the hand holding her arms, he used it to hold her hips to him.

Her legs tightened and she cried out loudly as he felt her final release. Her legs fell loosely around his thighs she rolled her head and eyes up to look into his. She could not quite make out his thoughts. Passion she recognized now had been in his every gaze, from their time at Netherfield on, it was the intensity of the emotion now that made her realize it for what it was.

There was something else there too, though. Satisfaction, surely, this man whom she just rejected so bitterly, brought her to a place of panting submission that she never imagined possible. But something else as well . . . could it be bitterness? Hurt? Anger? Or the oh-so-familiar arrogance and conceit he never seemed to be without. He had gotten what he wanted, had he not? She was lost to his touch. In truth she was also compromised. If anyone learned of this he would be forced to marry her, or she him as the case may be. As her breath and heart rate recovered the reality of her situation struck her most forcibly.

Darcy's awareness of the situation was not far behind. Though he was not satisfied, he had brought her to her climax most effectively. She was looking at him with wonder, face flushed and breathless. He would have laid her on the floor and started the process all over again (perhaps with his mouth this time) had he not seen her expression shift. The wonder gradually changed to questioning as she seemed to evaluate his face, this was not of concern as he felt nothing but passion.

However, his actions and the situation began to encroach upon him. He was mortified with himself. Never had he been angrier at his own want of control and this girl! This country nobody had brought this out in him! No . . . no she was not nobody. She was the holder of his heart and his happiness. The most amazing women he had ever met. He had believed he could not live without her which produced his ill-fated proposal. Now the possibility of ever considering marriage to another woman was unfathomable. He would never be able to kiss another woman after feeling the soft, sensual, perfect lips of his love, his only love . . . the woman who had just refused him . . . and was now looking at him with horror.

Upon seeing her expression, Darcy almost jumped back from her, only to realize just in time that he was still pinning her to the wall. He quickly placed his hands on her waste and lifted her down off the small ledge. When her feet hit the floor he backed a step away but did not release her. After a moment she seemed stable and he dropped his hands.

His eyes downcast he took another step away from her. Quickly flitting his eyes up to hers he saw that her look of horror had not disappeared. He shifted slightly, not sure what to do or say. This woman always made him question himself. The fine manners deeply ingrained in him disappeared at the sight of her. That could not be, he was a gentleman and he would show it!

He straightened his shoulders and looked up at her directly. As he prepared to walk away he said simply, "Forgive me madam for taking up so much of your time."