Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

LIZZIE

O h. My. God.

The man was not just handsome, he was Henry Cavill meets George Clooney wrapped up in a sexy British accent bow… gorgeous. And I was currently hanging from his arm like a limp, muddy rag doll. Humiliated fire burned my cheeks.

"I… I… I…"

Get it together! This man already thinks you're an idiot for stepping directly in the path of a cab and now you are just staring at him blabbering like, well, like an even bigger idiot. What the hell? My mind was so rattled by those incredibly blue piercing eyes and my near-death experience that I couldn't even think straight.

I could feel his fingers stretch out then press into my waist. His hands felt warm and comforting. He then turned my body around but kept me pressed to his front. In that very moment, I didn't want to be anywhere else in the world except in this stranger's arms. It wasn't just because he was incredibly hot. He made me feel safe and protected. Even the raindrops seemed to fall around us, not daring to fall on his shoulders.

Time stopped.

His hands lifted from my waist, leaving me feeling lost until they settled on my jaw. My head tilted back as he cradled it in the palms of his hands. Looking once more into his intense gaze, my heart stopped with irrational fear. This man had just saved my life. Yet I had the strangest feeling he had the power to take my life as well. As if his strong hands could snap my skull and jaw like brittle, hollow bird bones. Shaking off the macabre thought, I tried to focus on his full mouth and the words he was speaking.

"Are you hurt?"

Staring back at him, the words didn't register.

His thumbs caressed the sensitive skin beneath my cheekbones. His voice sounded like dark honey as he leaned in closer to repeat, "Little one, please answer me. Are you hurt?"

Unable to speak, I could only shake my head slightly, the grip of his hands too fierce to allow more.

With that, he pulled me close to his chest. His left hand buried itself into the wild nest of damp curls my hair had become while his right pressed firmly against my lower back. I could hear the elevated thump of his heartbeat. I snuggled closer. Daring to slip my hands beneath his coat, to press my palms into the hard muscles of his sides. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the spicy sandalwood scent of him.

This was madness, of course!

I didn't even know this man and here I was standing in the rain practically humping his leg. Taking in one more deep inhale of cologne, I forced myself to take a step back.

Except he wouldn't let go.

His arms wrapped tighter around me.

Craning my head back—he really was impossibly tall, my head didn't even reach his shoulder—I cleared my throat before speaking. "Thank you. I think I'm okay now."

Lowering my head, I hid my cringe at the childish, high-pitched sound of my voice. The man probably dated worldly, sophisticated women and here I was sounding as if I should be asking him to find my mommy.

I tried once more to take a step back.

Again, his arms tightened; my heart skipped a beat. There was something terrifying yet exciting about the idea that he was powerful enough to keep me there in his arms for as long as he liked. Before I had a chance to think on the consequences, he released me, but only to place his hands on my upper arms.

With the small separation of our bodies, I could finally look at him without having to tilt my head back, which at least made me feel a bit less like a little girl about to get a scolding from him. He had very angular features, from his strong jaw to his high cheekbones and prominent brow. He looked like a Roman gladiator with his angular nose that had just the hint of a kink in it halfway up, as if it had been broken sometime in the past. Although I couldn't imagine anyone brave enough to take a swing at someone like him. His skin had a healthy glow to it, not so much a tan and definitely not a fake tan but more the look of a man who spent time outdoors. Probably wrestling lions or climbing mountains with just some rope and his bare hands.

"You bitch! You fucking stupid bitch!"

My mouth dropped open as I swiveled to face the justifiably really pissed off cab driver.

Under normal circumstances, I was a pretty independent female who would be perfectly capable of squaring off with a surly man, even if he was screaming obscenities at me within view of Buckingham Palace and several bystanders who had stopped to watch the commotion. However, I was never given the chance.

The stranger grabbed me around the waist and placed me firmly at his side and a little behind him.

"Adjust your tone, now," he commanded the cab driver.

"I almost crashed because of that bitch! She stepped right out in front of me!" A foamy spittle was forming at the corner of the cab driver's mouth as he flapped his arms in the air with each declaration.

I was of course wrong for what I did, but I didn't think I deserved to be called a bitch in such violent terms. It was an innocent mistake after all and if anything, I was the one who almost died. His stupid cab was fine.

"Call her a bitch one more time and see what happens."

The stranger didn't curse or yell. In fact, that ultimatum was delivered in a very calm and even tone and yet it sent a chill through my body. Somehow, I got the feeling when he used that voice, very few people dared to disobey him.

Eyes bulging, the cab driver's hands curled into fists as he turned his full attention on the stranger; it was obvious he was getting ready to release his wrath on him instead of me.

Plastered close to his body, I could feel the stranger's chest rise as his shoulders rolled back. The leg closest to mine shifted back, pressing almost between my legs. Peeking out from beneath his arms, my eyes pleaded with the cab driver to relent. Even I knew a fighting stance when I saw one, and there was very little chance of this cab driver surviving a punch from the powerful fist of this stranger, of that I was sure.

Almost as if he was a balloon that somebody popped, the cab driver's whole body deflated. His head sank low as his shoulders rolled in. Flicking his gaze up, his mouth twisted into a grimace. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you, sir. Please accept my apologies."

What. The. Hell?

"It's quite all right." Looking down at me, he raised an eyebrow as his lips thinned in what I realized, with shock, was anger. "She should have been more careful." He turned back to the cab driver. "But you should not have been speeding."

Looking like a deranged bobblehead toy, the cab driver shook his head. "No. No. You are quite right, sir. I was speeding. This was entirely my fault. Please accept my apologies." The man raised both hands up in a supplicating gesture as he took several steps back. Then with a feral glance around him, he jumped into his cab and raced off as if the demons of hell were licking at his heels.

Twisting my shoulders, I stepped away from the stranger's hold. The shock of almost being pancaked had started to wear off. I was now looking at him with clearer eyes.

He was dressed so elegantly, you would almost have thought he was an actor who just stepped off a period drama movie set. That certainly would have explained the almost impossibly good looks. Under his heavy overcoat, you could see a black wool morning coat; both fit perfectly over his wide shoulders and I absolutely loved the fact he was wearing a fawn-colored waistcoat with a navy hopsack tie over a white and light blue contrast collar shirt with cuffs. So debonair and fashionable. He even had a tie pin!

Seriously, who was this guy? What man in this day and age wore a waistcoat with a tie pin and cuff links? Even his pants were perfect. Instead of typical black wool suit pants to match the morning coat, which is what you would expect from just about any man on the planet, he wore gray wool trousers with a subtle check pattern with matching lines of navy and fawn.

My gaze scanned upward. He even had a buff-colored satin pocket square. It was almost too much perfection, especially for a fashionista like me!

"Darcy," I breathed before slapping both hands over my stupid mouth. Did I really just say that out loud? Judging by the tilt of his lips and curve of his right eyebrow, I did.

"If I'm Darcy, that must make you Elizabeth."

Swoon.

Wait…

My eyebrows shot together. "How did you know my name?"

His head fell back as he laughed. It sounded rich and masculine. The type of laughter you'd expect from titans of business as they sat around a poker table playing cards and smoking cigars. That full-bodied "I own the world and it amuses me" kind of laughter.

It was then I realized my mistake; if possible, my cheeks flamed hotter.

"Of course, Elizabeth, duh." Nervously fiddling with the strap of my purse, I glanced up through my eyelashes, expecting a look of pity. That "gee, it's a shame you're pretty but way too dumb for someone as obviously sophisticated as me" look.

Mr. Darcy reached out and gently pushed a section of my hair over my shoulder before stroking my cheek with the back of his hand. "You're adorable." His eyes crinkled slightly at the corners as their icy blue depths warmed to the color of dark sapphires.

I love you!

Just kidding.

No, I'm not.

As I stared up at him wondering what our children would look like, my body gave an involuntary shiver. I wasn't sure if it was from the shock or the cold rain finally creeping in, but I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to think of something witty to say that might impress him.

Darcy took a step back and shrugged out of his overcoat. Flexing his arms, he swung its weight to settle heavily onto my shoulders.

I protested, "Oh, no. Please don't! You'll get your suit wet!"

Taking a step closer, he grabbed the lapels and pulled them close over my chest, sheltering me inside a cocoon of sandalwood-scented warmth. Through the wool, I could feel the press of his knuckles against the swell of my breasts. I had to clench my thighs to stop the pleasant ripple that went straight through my core.

"You are far more important," he remarked before his voice took on a gentle scolding tone. "Although I should punish you for not wearing a coat or carrying an umbrella in this weather."

A vision of him undoing his belt and telling me to prepare for my spanking caused another delicious ripple of arousal between my legs. It was all I could do not to breathe out, yes, Daddy , like a chastised little girl.

Damn, the kinky thoughts this man inspired!

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again," I found myself promising in a small, baby-like voice. "And I'm sorry about the cab. I'm still new here and I keep forgetting to look right, not left."

"We'll discuss it later. First, I want to get you out of this rain."

"I was just heading to the museum."

"Well, let's see if we can get you there in one piece this time."

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask that of you. Really, it's barely raining now and I promise I'll look both ways and cross at the crosswalk this time."

He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head back. "You didn't have to ask. I'd be honored to escort you to the museum, Elizabeth."

"Okay," I answered, as if in a trance. Really, it felt like I was… those eyes of his. They were mesmerizing, especially when you seemed to attract his full attention.

He placed a firm hand against my lower back and began to lead me down The Mall in the direction of the National Gallery. Trafalgar Square was only a few blocks away so it wasn't worth it trying to get a cab. Besides, I was over cabs for a bit.

As soon as I took a few steps I stopped and looked down in dismay. His beautiful, and probably incredibly expensive, overcoat was dragging along the wet pavement. The man towered over my small frame by at least a foot so it was no wonder his coat was much too long for me.

Twisting my shoulders, I started to take it off.

"Don't you dare," he warned.

"But…."

"I said no, Elizabeth."

"But your coat will be ruined!" I blurted out.

"I don't give a damn about the coat," he ground out.

My face fell at his harsh tone. Indecision kept me frozen to the spot.

His mouth lifted at the corner. It wasn't quite a smile; something told me a man like him didn't smile often but there was definitely amusement there. "You really are too cute when you pout like that."

I hadn't even realized my lower lip had popped out a bit as I gripped the lapels of his coat tighter around my body and tried to think of the polite thing to do.

Just then, he bent and swooped me up into his arms.

"Oh, my God! Wait! You can't!" I exclaimed as I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold on. Looking down it felt like I was miles away from the ground, he was so freaking tall.

Without answer, he just began to walk in the direction of the museum.

"You can't think to carry me all the way to Trafalgar Square? It's too far and I'm too heavy."

Mr. Darcy scoffed. "You don't weigh more than a bird. That's what you are, my little bird."

It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. His arm was wrapped intimately under my thighs. The tips of his fingers were close to touching the side of my left breast. I couldn't really feel his touch through the heavy wool coat but just the idea of it was enough to make me want more.

Without even questioning it, I rested my head on his shoulder. If felt natural and right that I would depend on him for protection and help. As I watched the last of the flower beds of St. James's Park disappear in the distance, I finally asked, "What's your actual name, Mr. Darcy?"