“No,” she replied sarcastically, “but we’ll talk about it.”
“Good,” he said, “because that whole talking to the corner thing was a little freaky.”
Elizabeth laughed quietly at that. “When I get overwhelmed like last night,” she clarified, “I have to let off steam somehow. Usually I go out for a run and it helps me figure out what to say. I couldn’t do that last night, and I was ready to explode.”
“I thought you incredibly composed,” he said sarcastically. “But why didn’t you just use the gym in the building?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “I needed to be away—running in circles isn’t the same.”
He kissed her forehead. “Why didn’t you just do that last night?” she asked, gazing up at him innocently.
He shrugged. “I was told I might lose a hand.”
“You have to be more assertive, then,” she said, deadpan, and shrieked with laughter when he pushed her over on her back, pinned her to the couch, and began tickling her mercilessly. When he stopped so she could catch her breath, he grinned down at her.
“We just effected our first compromise,” he told her proudly.
She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending your vacation.” Her stomach gurgled, and she glanced over at the half-eaten bagels. She turned back to Will.
“Dim sum?” she asked hopefully. “My treat.”
“Are you always thinking about your next meal?” he asked teasingly.
Elizabeth’s eyes raked over him from head to toe. “Nooo,” she said, reaching up to touch his cheek, “sometimes I’m thinking about . . . dessert.”
She began to say something else, but was cut off as his lips crashed down on her mouth.
Major Richard Fitzwilliam glanced up as another stack of files was dropped on his desk. He was busy analyzing the potential for more kidnappings in Syria, and the data was coming through in printed communiques and reports. God, I hate paper reports, he thought, trying not to think about his separation date less than two weeks away and failing miserably. Thanksgiving with Will and G, he told himself. Maybe even Dad and Oscar. At least at FORGE, the reports and spreadsheets would be digital. Mostly. His cousin did, after all, wear a wristwatch and have an actual newspaper delivered to his apartment every morning.
He wondered idly if Bennet would be at Thanksgiving. The last he’d heard, she’d laid down the law with Will about Bingley, and he’d just seen the Post article about running shoes the other day. He’d laughed so hard he’d nearly thrown up when he saw they were calling Bennet “Cinderella,” and “The Jersey Princess.” Oh man, gotta send her a tiara, he thought affectionately, and then, she’s lucky she’s not from Queens. He missed her unique brand of cheerful snark more than he’d thought he would.
Richard genuinely liked Bennet and thought she would be good for Will. She’d also been a mystery to him for months, and mysteries didn’t sit well with him. Bennet had worked under a Captain Carter for about six months and requested consideration for the Enlisted Commission Program before being abruptly transferred to Brussels, but there wasn’t much else. After speaking with her and learning about her education, he’d been unclear why she’d never been offered a chance to attend ECP. She seemed a perfect candidate. He frowned. He usually had more access than this to personnel files.
When he’d first met her in the office working on her inspections, he’d thought she was too exuberant to be a serious Marine. But the more he spoke to her, the more he had realized that she hid a sharp intelligence beneath the wit. Furthermore, beneath all the banter was someone who had some steel, something he’d never been more grateful for than on that evening in De Roos.
Richard tapped his pen on the desk. They never spoke of it, but he wondered how she was doing, whether she was having nightmares or trouble sitting in a bar if she wasn’t facing the door. He’d been through combat situations before, but somehow this had been different. He’d not been protecting civilians before, perhaps. Or maybe it was that he had gotten soft, spending more time working with men in suits than in uniforms.
His phone buzzed. A text.
“Bennet,” he said with a grin. “Speak of the devil.”
I know you heard about the Jersey Princess thing. Whatever you’re planning, stop.
He locked up the office and stepped out into the street. When he was home, beer sitting on the coffee table and his feet up on the sofa, he took up his phone to answer.
Bennet, he typed, you know that’s not possible.
He waited a second before her answer popped up.
You should be prepared for reprisals.
He nodded. Always.
He could almost hear her sighing from across the Atlantic, and it made him smile. When the phone buzzed next, he read: Beware. I have Will on my side. He knows things.
“Please,” he scoffed. I’m not afraid of Batman, Bennet. What kind of amateur do you take me for? He chuckled. This was more fun than planning something. She was winding herself up.
As my friend Catherine used to say, I shall know how to act!
Richard chewed that over. Weird. My Aunt Catherine says that, too.
Must be the name. I’m just warning you, Dicky. No sudden moves.
Dicky, is it? Lizzy? Lizard? Dizzy Lizzy? Frizzy Lizzy? Stones, glass houses.
You’re a riot, major. I bet the general gets a real kick out of you. Has she asked you out yet? You know, as her very personal assistant?
Low blow, Bennet. He hit send before he sat up abruptly and cried out, “No, no! Shit! That’s not what I meant!”
There was a pause, and now he could almost hear her laughter. Then her last message came through.
Gotcha. Bennet 1, Fitzwilliam 0.
Richard nearly threw his phone across the room. How could he have let her win that exchange? He’d had her right where he wanted her and she’d wriggled free. He guzzled almost the entire bottle of beer and set it back on the table with a thud.
“All right, Bennet,” he said to the empty room, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You want to keep score? This is war.”
Will poured popcorn into a large bowl and punched a button on the remote. The opening credits began to roll for Roman Holiday. Elizabeth dropped her phone on the coffee table and leaned back against the leather couch.
“Fair warning,” she said. “I may kill your cousin.”
Will handed her the bowl and sat down next to her. “What’s he done now?”
She shook her head. “Nothing yet, but I know how he thinks. I tried to warn him off, but . . .”
He grinned. “That’s not really the best way to handle Richard.”
“That’s not the best way for you to handle Richard,” she replied. “He’s always known you as his younger cousin. He’s afraid of me.”
“Oh really?” Will asked, a skeptical expression on his face.
“Mmm hmm,” she responded, chewing. She swallowed and said, “He’s seen me shoot.”
Will laughed. “He’s seen me shoot. Many times.”
Elizabeth gazed at Will. “Oh Will,” she said with a shake of her head, “I love you, but it isn’t the same thing. At all.”
He felt his breath accelerate and removed the bowl from her hands to set it on the table.
“What did you just say?” he asked.
She stared blankly at him, and then her eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed pink. She bit her lip. “It isn’t the same thing?”
Will raised his eyebrows.
Elizabeth reached for his hand, and Will took it, feeling the slight dampness in her palm. “I hope it doesn’t change things for you,” she said, and took a shaky breath. She let it out. “I love you.”
Will could feel the smile splitting his face. He brushed some hair from Elizabeth’s forehead and leaned in to kiss her before pulling slightly away from her face and replying, “That’s excellent news, Elizabeth.” He moved to kiss her neck and reveled in the shudder it produced. He moved back to her lips before sayi
ng, “I love you, too. I just wasn’t sure you were ready to hear it.”
Her face lit up like a firefly. “I wasn’t sure you were ready,” she said, laughing quietly. She reached up to touch his cheek. “You make me happy, Will. Really happy.” She glanced up at him through her eyelashes, and this time, he knew she wasn’t being playful or teasing. “Will you say it again?”
He helped her up from the couch and put his arms around her, pulling her close. “I love you, Elizabeth Bennet,” he whispered in her ear between kisses. “I am hopelessly in love with you.”
Will woke later than usual the next morning. Through the window in his bedroom, the autumn sky appeared gray and dismal. For a moment, he panicked, thinking he was late for work, but as he bolted upright, he remembered. Vacation. When he threw himself back down on the bed and pulled the down comforter over himself to return to sleep, he heard a muffled protest and recalled that not only was he on vacation, he was not alone.
“Hey, cover hog,” came Elizabeth’s sleepy voice, and he grinned.
“Sorry, not used to having to share.”
“Clearly,” she said, sitting up. Her hair stuck out at all angles, creating a jagged cloud around her head until she tamed it with her hands.
“Aw,” he teased, “it looked good up there, like a spiky halo.”
She snorted. “More like horns.”
Will was quiet then, just watching her. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the warmth of the bed, and her lips were red and full. She has perfect lips, he thought, running his eyes along their curves. As Elizabeth snuggled into his side to counteract the unceremonious loss of her blanket, she crinkled her nose and brought her hands up to his chest. He flinched a bit—her hands were cold. He tucked the comforter around them both and tossed an arm around her. She hummed happily.
“You know,” she said, once she was warm again, “you can disagree any time.”
“There’s no good answer,” he replied, sanguine. “If I say you’re the devil, you’ll hit me, but if I say you’re an angel, God may strike me down for the lie.”
She huffed and buried her head under a pillow, emitting enough sound that he knew she was saying something, but not what. He lifted the pillow and his eyebrows at the same time.
“Care to repeat that?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
“I said,” she reiterated, speaking with emphasis on each word, “that a lot of angels were soldiers for God. Scary ones. Like Marines.”
This time he did laugh. “I’ll call my cousin an angel when he comes home. We’ll see how well that goes over.”
“You show him pictures of Michael the Archangel, and he won’t mind.” She clutched the comforter to her chest and sat up. Then she thought better of it and fell back on the pillow. “I don’t want to get up this morning.”
“Then don’t,” Will said, stroking her hair and pushing it back from her face. He let his thumb carefully trace the thin white line just over her eyebrow before planting a little kiss on the end of her nose. “I like waking up this way,” he said, leaning his forehead to touch hers.
“You mean stealing the covers so I’m out here shivering?” she replied with a dazed smile. She tossed an arm over his side and hugged herself to his bare torso. “You’re so warm.” She yawned widely. “I guess it’s not so bad.”
“No, love, that’s not exactly what I meant.” Will kissed her on the top of her head and then burrowed under the covers until they were eye-to-eye, inches apart. “Your eyes are so deeply green,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with eyes quite that color before. They’re beautiful.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Thank you.”
He laughed softly. “Is that another lesson? How to take a compliment graciously?”
“Of course,” she replied with a giggle.
“It freaks me out a little when you giggle,” he said, bemused. “You’re usually so formidable. It throws me off my game.”
“Will Darcy,” she said with a sigh, returning his penetrating gaze, “please. You have no game.”
“True,” he agreed solemnly, though his lips quirked up. “Only too true.”
Elizabeth brought her hand up to touch his face. “Thank God. Despite what I said about you being a prince, I wouldn’t know what to do with a charming man.” She flushed as the meaning of her words hit her. They stared at each other blankly for a few seconds before they both began to laugh.
Elizabeth finally pushed herself up and perched on the edge of the bed, her back to Will. She flexed her knee, seemed satisfied, and made as if to stand, but he grabbed the elastic waist on her pajama bottoms and pulled her back to bed.
“Will!” she squealed. “What are you doing?”
“You said you didn’t want to get up,” Will reminded her.
“I changed my mind,” she told him with a shrug.
“But who said you could leave the bed?” he asked.
“I did,” Elizabeth said indignantly, trying to wrest her pants out of his hand. “Let me up.”
Will thought about it for a long minute, but did not release his hold. At last, he spoke. “No.”
“What do you mean, no?” she asked, beginning to get annoyed.
Will saw the line appear between her eyes and smiled mischievously. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her fully back onto the bed, where she sat up with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Sweetheart,” he said just above a whisper. “I want to get to know you.”
He watched her eyebrows pinch together. “You do know me,” she replied, sounding confused.
With one hand, he pushed up the left leg of her pajama pants and ran one finger lightly over the scar just to the side of her kneecap.
“Was this from De Roos?”
“Mmm hmm. Three-inch metal splinter.” Her voice was steady.
Will tried to imagine it and couldn’t. “Does it still hurt?” he asked softly.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It just gets sore. They had to remove some cartilage. I don’t get too much pain from it anymore.” He wrapped both hands around her calf and kissed the scar. He glanced up to see Elizabeth blink and her lips part slightly. He placed another kiss on the fine line just above her eyebrow.
She was wearing a tank top, and Will next skimmed some fading white lines on her forearms with his fingertips and then a crescent-shaped scar that curved just at the point where her collarbone met her shoulder. “What’s this one from?” he asked softly, moving his lips to her neck, just under her jaw, then behind her ear.
“Mmm. Shrapnel,” she mumbled, squirming under him. “Not really pillow talk, Will.”
He gently pressed his lips to the scar on her shoulder. Elizabeth’s eyes closed, and her head tipped back. Her breath came a little faster.
“So, your eye, your knee, and your shoulder,” he continued, kissing a spot behind her ear that made her shiver. “Anywhere else?”
She placed her hands lightly on the small of his back, her heart pounding. “Uh, scars?” she asked, distracted as he nibbled her earlobe.
“Mmm.” He dropped his head to her chest.
“Oh . . .” She sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“What else?” he insisted, turning his attention to her breasts. Her hands wound themselves into his hair.
“Ah . . . concussion.” She moaned and began to arch her back as Will moved farther down her torso and began to kiss her sides, her stomach. Her next sentence came out in short gasps. “Your. Cousin. Threw. A. Bomb. At. Me.”
“I’ll have to speak to him about that,” Will replied in a low voice as he moved in to capture her lips with his own.
Afterward, just before they both fell back into a deep slumber, Elizabeth’s phone buzzed. She flailed around for it without any urgency. When she finally grabbed it, she thumbed through a few notifications before letting out a groan. She showed the headline to Will, who just laughed at the photo of the two of them outside the shoe store. “Sole mates? They didn
’t have anything better than that? I’m keenly disappointed.”
Elizabeth scrolled through the other stories and began to laugh. When she started hiccupping, Will sat up.
“What is it?” he asked, holding out his hand. She passed the phone over and pointed out the last headline.
Will tossed the phone on the bed and flopped back on the pillows. “That’s just perfect,” he said sarcastically. “Richard will never let me live this down.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “He’s already seen ‘Jersey Princess,’ and I have two teenaged sisters trolling the internet for this stuff. It’s your turn.”
“Great,” he said wryly. “I hadn’t even thought about Georgiana seeing this. I feel much better now.”
Elizabeth leaned over and planted a kiss on the back of his neck. He shuddered.
“I love you,” she said softly. “Think about that instead.”
They kissed for a good long time before she lifted the covers, glanced down, and told him mischievously, “I need to check out the merchandise.” She was silent for a moment, contemplating. “Nope, the originals still look pretty good to me.”
Will put his hands on either side of Elizabeth’s face and drew her down to his lips. Her arms snaked around his neck, and he rolled over on top of her. As their lovemaking grew heated, her phone bounced off the bed and hit the floor. The contact made the screen light up, revealing the last headline for a few seconds before the display went dark.
DASHING DARCY BUYS A PAIR
Excerpt from HEADSTRONG BOOK 2: ADAPT
Elizabeth was sitting in the kitchen with two empty beer bottles in front of her on the counter, her head pillowed on her arms, when she heard Will opening the front door. There was the sharp clink of the keys being tossed in the blue bowl, but she didn’t lift her head, not even when she heard his footsteps and a soft laugh a few feet away.
“It went that well, huh?” he asked playfully.
She looked up, her chin resting on her forearm. Will was wearing a thin blue sweater over a white oxford shirt and light tan slacks. He had already removed his sportscoat. He always looks good. Jerk. “Where’ve you been?” she asked. “I thought you were working from home today.”
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