Elizabeth looked up from her book as the door to the Netherfield library opened. Her eyes discreetly peered over the top of the pages and immediately recognized Mr. Darcy's tall form. She hastily returned her gaze to the page, but it appeared he had not seen her on the settee in the corner. She should make her presence known and acknowledge him, but perhaps if she looked engrossed in her novel, she could avoid the formality. Maybe he would simply leave without seeing her. He had been so taciturn in almost all of their previous encounters; she would not put it past him to simply ignore her, even if he did realize she was there.

Darcy paced back and forth in front of the shelves stopping once and a while to look closer at a title. Sighing with frustration and shaking his head at the lack of modern literary options in Bingley's library, he settled on a book of naval warfare that looked as though it had been untouched on the shelf since the start of the war with the French. Why did he not think to bring along a few books to keep himself occupied? He should have known Charles would have overlooked a well-managed library; the current selections in all likelihood had been abandoned by the landlord. Resigned to his choice, Mr. Darcy retired to the armchair in the corner bringing with him, in lieu of a missing footrest, the short steps used for reaching the upper bookshelves.

Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy discreetly from the opposite corner of the room, fascinated to see a less formal persona emerge, his feet propped up on a footstool for lack of proper furnishings in the room. He balanced the book in one hand and lazily rested his head the other, his elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. Absentmindedly flipping through the pages with his thumb, he released a cloud of dust that caused him to sneeze loudly.

"Blast, Bingley! Am I the first to open a book in here?" Darcy cried out, reaching for his handkerchief. Elizabeth was unable to stifle a soft laugh at the scene. Noticing her for the first time, Darcy stiffened and nodded his head to her. "I apologize, Miss Elizabeth, I did not see you there. Please pardon my outburst."

"No apology necessary, Mr. Darcy," replied Elizabeth, returning her focus to her book. "You may find some more well-read novels and poetry on the top shelf. Despite being more difficult to reach, they seem to be the least dusty."

Muttering his thanks, he easily reached up and chose a volume from that shelf before sitting down again. This time, he sat more formally and did not rest his head on his hand. Elizabeth noticed the difference in his carriage when he knew she was there versus his more relaxed deportment when he thought he was alone and found herself amused at the thought that there might be a less proper side to Mr. Darcy.

Darcy was mortified that his exclamation had been overheard and by Miss Elizabeth no less. She made a charming picture curled up like a cat, her feet discreetly covered by her dress but clearly up on the seat aside her, her back resting among the mismatched pillows she appeared to have gathered from around the room to make herself a comfortable nook. Had she fallen asleep there? Is that why she had not said anything when he entered the room? He would have liked to find her resting there, as he could have observed her openly without her noticing instead of trying to catch a glimpse of her over his book. A strand of her hair fell over her face. From across the room, he wished he could reach out and push it behind her ear, cup her beautiful face, and graze her cheek with his thumb. Her lips parted slightly, showing just how lustrous they were… how pink and soft they looked…

He crossed his leg to rest on his knee, feeling a familiar throb in his loins. He would have to distract himself or risk awkwardness. If he let his thoughts wander, he might not be able to walk out of the room without embarrassment.

They sat like this for another half an hour; Elizabeth determined to ignore his presence and Darcy trying to disguise his interest in hers. It was getting late, but Elizabeth was almost finished with her book and wanted to return it and take another to read in bed before leaving the library. She finally turned the last page, thinking about the brazen conclusion to the novel. The heroine had taken some bold actions, but contrary to most stories of girls acting out of turn, this leading woman had achieved everything she wanted. Elizabeth liked the thought of charting her own path, despite what society demanded of her. Her mother may be concerned about marrying off her daughters for their financial security, but Elizabeth was determined to pursue a life of contentment. Could she find a marriage of respect and equality, even if that meant she would not have the same luxuries she currently knew?

She started to rise, but realized her bare feet were tucked up under her dress and her slippers down on the floor. Sneaking a look at Mr. Darcy, she ensured he was engrossed in his book before quickly sliding her feet into her shoes. Walking over to the shelves, she eyed the top one where her novel belonged. Though he was not using it as a footrest anymore, Mr. Darcy had not returned the footstool, and she did not want to approach him to ask for it. Thinking she might be able to reach anyway, Elizabeth stepped on the edge of the base under the shelves to give herself a few more inches of height. As soon as she tried to step up, her foot slipped, and she let out a small exclamation as her hand clasped onto the shelf to prevent her fall.

A moment later, she felt a hand on her waist and a warmth against her back.

"Please, allow me to help," Mr. Darcy's deep voice resounded in her ear, and she felt a deep vibration from his chest against her body. His right hand did not leave her waist, but his left followed up the line of her arm to take the book from her and place it securely in its spot. She froze under his touch and proximity; the pounding of her heart in her chest and the flutter in her stomach was paralyzing. Though the book was no longer in her grasp, her hand was frozen on the edge of the shelf above her. She turned her head over her shoulder and saw him looking down at her, his breath seemingly caught as well. Unsure of how to respond to their current position, she nevertheless found herself more surprised than displeased with the situation.

"Thank you," she whispered, unsure of what else to say. "I thought I could reach it without the footstool and avoid disturbing you, but…" her voice faded away.

"Miss Elizabeth, you need not worry about disturbing me…" He could not help himself, she was so warm, and it felt so wonderful… so right… to have her close. His arm still outstretched at the top shelf, he slowly ran his hand over hers, traced down her arm and over her shoulder, and finally moved that errant lock of hair so he could see her graceful neck and collarbone. His hand continued to move down her side, barely brushing the side of her breast as it came to rest on her waist opposite his other hand. Feeling a warmth radiating between them, me moved from her waist to hold her hips, and felt for a moment a protective desire of her rise within him. She gasped quietly at his touch, but did not push him away. Her outstretched hand came to rest on a shelf closer to her cheek.

"Mr. Darcy," she whispered. He stopped, and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, and he waited for her response before he continued.

Elizabeth opened her eyes, and was surprised to find his face only inches from her own. She knew she should tell him to stop, call him a cad, and leave before someone found them. The consequences of being caught in such a compromising position with any man, let alone the proud Mr. Darcy, were unimaginable, but the feelings he was exposing in her were difficult to deny. There was an aching between her legs, and as she shifted her hips slightly, she could feel a wetness there. With her slight movement, she also felt Mr. Darcy's hardness pressed up against her; it was a powerful feeling to know that she had inspired such a reaction in this man. Confused, she looked away from him and whispered, "But I thought you only found me tolerable…"

Mr. Darcy froze, mortified that she apparently overheard his comment to Bingley at the Meryton assembly. He had been in a foul mood and looking for any excuse to not dance. He knew it was a lie when he said it to Bingley, but he was not in a humor to explain his situation to his friend at the time. It was easier to be unpleasant than honest when he wanted the always affable Bingley to leave him alone.

It pained Darcy to see the hurt he had caused her, and his eyes drank in her form pushed up against his. He was acting barbaric, but she was responding, and he could hardly tear himself away from her now. In that moment, he knew as clearly as anything that he would treat her honorably… duty be damned, he had never responded in this way to any other woman, and he knew he had enough power and freedom to make his own choices.

He lowered his lips to her ear, and responded, "And now Elizabeth, how do you think I find you?" His voice carried a shiver down the back of her neck and made her tremble. Her hand gripped the shelf in front of her as his lips began to trace her neck, sucking softly. One of his hands traveled around to her stomach and rose up the front of her body, softly tracing her breast. She let out a small moan, and he responded by pressing into her harder, squeezing her breast and losing his mind to the sweet sensation of her compliant warmth against him. He slipped her sleeve from her shoulder, exposing more of her soft skin. His hand moved under the cloth of her dress to recapture her bare breast. His lips traced her shoulder and up her neck. She began to gasp at every new sensation, and her body responded to his touch as if drawn wherever his hands led. Noticing her movement, Darcy slowly brought his other hand from her waist to rub his fingers over the tender spot between her legs, the smooth fabric of her dress warming from his touch. A louder moan escaped her throat, and he started to become aware that they were not in the privacy of the Pemberley library as he was imagining in his fantasy.

He stopped his ministrations, and spun her around to face him. He lifted her slightly to sit on the ledge of the bookcase. Her wide eyes looked up at him filled with innocence and passion. He took her cheek in his hand, running his thumb over her soft skin. Their gaze held until he slowly lowered his lips to hers. Despite his urgent need for her, he kissed her softly and pulled back to look at her lovely face, her eyes now closed and her lips puckered and waiting for him to return.

Return he did, kissing her with more pressure and intensity. His hand reached back into her curls while the other again found her waist and pulled her into him. His groin pulsed with need of her, and he slowly began to ease her legs apart to allow him to move closer. He felt the slender outline of her thigh through her dress, and she shivered as he began to trace his fingers down her leg. He slowly hiked her dress up to her knees and slipped his hand underneath to find the edge of her chemise. When his hand touched the warm softness of her thigh, she again began to moan. Quieting her exclamation with his own mouth, he parted her lips with his tongue. Slowly, his hands inched higher until they reached her warm wetness. Elizabeth froze at his touch, and he moved back slightly to study her face. Her eyes showed a little shock at the pleasure she felt, and they locked gazes as he saw her become more and more affected. Her breathing became labored and loud, and he returned his mouth to quiet hers. Her arms wrapped tightly around his back, one hand running through his short hair. He felt her move in rhythm and knew she must be close. She could feel a tension rising within her when she suddenly heard a thump in the hall and froze.

Immediately they broke apart. Darcy moved to the door to stop anyone who might try to enter while Elizabeth sorted her skirt and attempted to right her hair. They looked at each other in silence, straining to hear any other sound of movement from the hall. The clock on the mantle ticked almost as loud as their racing hearts. After several minutes, their breathing steadied, and they felt confident that whoever had been passing by the library was gone.

Mortification rose within Elizabeth. What had she just allowed to happen? She was not prone to any such behavior before, but when Mr. Darcy held her close, it was as though she had no control. She had bent to his every touch, welcomed his kiss. It was unclear what confused her more- his apparent attraction to her, or her response to him. Neither seemed to know what to say to break the silence, but she knew that should they stay there, they would likely be found together. There may be nothing amiss about them both being in the library, but she somehow felt that if someone came across them now, they would immediately know what had just transpired.

She turned back to the bookcase to try to steady the fluttering in her heart that would not subside while she looked at him. Apprehension was now replacing her feeling of surprise. What should she do? What would he expect now? Was she ruined? What must he think of her to have approached her in such a manner?

"Miss Elizabeth…" Darcy ventured, taking a step toward her.

She held up her arm to keep him from coming closer, not able to look at him again.

"Please Mr. Darcy… I cannot imagine what has come over me to act in such a disgraceful way."

"Surely, you do not blame yourself for my actions. I have behaved in a most abominable manner—I never intended- I cannot explain…" He stammered over his words.

She finally turned to him and could see in his eyes that he truly looked troubled. He dared not approach her further, but neither could he leave her in this state. He was resolved; he would ask her to marry him in a heartbeat, but right now she was upset, and he wanted to comfort her first. Slowly he returned to her side but kept from touching her again.

"Can I do anything for your present comfort? A glass of wine, perhaps?" he asked her.

"No, I thank you. I need but another few moments to compose myself."

"Miss Elizabeth… Elizabeth… you must know how sorry I am for taking advantage of you… I lost control over myself in the moment. It will not happen again, you have my word…"

At this, she looked away, embarrassed by the deep feeling of distress at his assurances that it would not happen again. She had never felt those feelings, those sensations before, but she knew there was something more.

Elizabeth was not so naïve as to not know what passed between men and women, preferably after marriage, for she had heard of scandals around the village involving young maidens and unscrupulous rogues. She could not quite bring herself to apply the term "unscrupulous" to Mr. Darcy though. She did not know much about him… he was wealthy, proud… he wrote to his sister frequently. He had always stared at her to find fault, or so she thought. Clearly he found her attractive, and she was not unaffected by him either.

Elizabeth finally found the courage to reply, "You need not worry, sir, that I will be calling for my father to force you down the aisle." She said with a slight pause, "Perhaps we can part here and forget that anything has transpired between us." Her forehead was leaning against the cool wood of the bookcase as she tried to avoid looking at him. He reached out to brush her thumb against her cheek.

She turned to him, somewhat confused by his continued attention. She could not let herself give into his touch again. Too scared to allow herself to lose control, she stepped away. A lump rose in her throat making it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. She instead turned back to the shelves and sought a book she could bring to her room, so if she were seen leaving the library she could at least have that as an excuse for being there at this late hour. She reached briefly for the top shelf but thought better of it and looked lower. Mr. Darcy chuckled as he watched her, reading her thoughts as plainly as if she spoke them aloud.

"Please allow me to get what you are looking for, or at the very least fetch the footstool. I could not subject you to the dust of an old naval war volume."

She smiled meekly and indicated the book she sought, and he easily retrieved it for her.

"Miss Elizabeth…" he started, but she shook her head and made to walk past him. He reached for her arm to stop her, and as he gently turned her back to him, he saw tears starting to fall down her cheeks.

"What must you think of me?" she whispered. She did not wait for his reply before running out of the library. Fortunately, she passed no one in the hall in her flight back to her bedroom.