Elizabeth Bennet opened her eyes, blinking twice until the glow by the bed came into focus. Something vibrated, like an angry wasp trapped in a Tupperware box. She curled her fingers around the cold phone, wincing as the bright screen contrasted against the pitch black of the room.

It took a moment before the content of the message sunk in.


Charlie: Jane’s having the baby!!!

Even three exclamation marks failed to convey her brother-in-law’s excitement. Rolling out of bed with a yawn she pushed her toes into her cold slippers and grabbed her dressing gown. She tiptoed across the landing, not wishing to wake Charles and Jane’s other guest as she made her way to their bedroom at the back of the house.

The door stood open, revealing a scene of devastation. It was as though a mischievous whirlwind had danced around their bedroom, opening drawers and tipping the contents across the crumpled quilt and floor. Her sister’s hospital bag was gone. She dialled Charlie’s number.

When he answered she recognised a measure of relief in his voice. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

She smiled at his complete lack of contrition. “Well, yeah, but it doesn’t matter.” She glanced at the bedside clock. The green numbers read 6.15 a.m.

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want you to wonder where we were.”

Elizabeth heard Jane groan in the background. “You know what they say, babies come when they’re ready. It’s only ten days before her due date though, right? That’s nothing in baby terms.”

“Yes, the midwife says everything is great. The little one just wants to get here before Santa comes.”

“How long have you been at the hospital? I didn’t hear you leave.”

“We decided to head out about two-ish. Jane’s six centimetres now but things have slowed down in the last hour.”

“I’ll throw on some clothes and be there as soon as I can. Do you need me to bring anything?”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone. “Jane would love you to be here, Lizzy, and so would I, but I ‘m not sure you’ll make it. After all the rain we’ve had the last two days the river near the village burst its banks and parts of the road are flooded. It’s lucky we decided to leave the house when we did because I don’t think the Range Rover would have made it through if we’d waited any longer. The waters will have risen since. Your smaller car won’t stand a chance.”

Returning to her bedroom, she opened her wardrobe with her free hand and pulled out her boots. “Surely there’s another route? That can’t be the only way out of the village.”

“That’s the only road, unless you want to hike across country to— Oh, hold on.” Elizabeth heard a muffled conversation, as though Charles had covered the phone with his hand.

“Elizabeth Bennet, don’t you dare try to make it to this hospital on foot. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you in this dreadful weather!”

“But Jane—”

“No. I don’t want to be worrying about you too. Besides, I’ll need your help getting things ready for tomorrow. I can’t…” Jane gasped and her breath came faster as she worked on her breathing techniques.

Another unintelligible conversation followed as her husband took the phone back. “I’m sorry, Lizzy, we’ve been watching the news between contractions and the weather is creating havoc all over the place. At least you’re on high ground and there’s no risk to the house. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed where you are, for Jane’s peace of mind. Besides, you can’t leave Darcy all on his own. Not at Christmas.”

Elizabeth smiled as she pushed her bedroom curtain to one side, looking out onto the dark landscape. “Oh, I think I can.”

Charlie sounded more hurt than angry. “You promised Jane you’d make more of an effort to get on with him.”

“And I am! He’s the one who stares at me like I’m dirt under his shoe. He argues with everything I say. Nothing I do pleases him; he’s continually looking to find fault. I only agreed to stay over Christmas to help Jane out, and because I thought you’d both be here. I never dreamed I’d be left on my own with him.”

“If he really bothers you, just stay out of his way, okay? I’ll keep you updated.”

When she’d wished them both luck and they’d exchanged goodbyes, Elizabeth made her way downstairs to grab a coffee. There was more evidence of their hasty departure in the hallway, as two umbrellas lay where they fell on the old tiles. She picked them up and put them back in the closet before passing through the darkened living room to the kitchen.

From the large window she could see right over the valley below, and a faint lightening of the horizon revealed silhouettes of the great oaks, sycamores and chestnuts in the distance, the tops of their branches whipping from side to side. Rain pelted against the glass in a slow but steady rhythm, buffeted by the strong gusts. Even though they were well inland Elizabeth could almost imagine she was in a lighthouse, listening to the waves crashing against rocks, the sea-spray hitting the windows.

Elizabeth had always loved storms. There was something so primal about elements fighting each other for dominance, like a tag-team wrestling match. A crack overhead sent a stiletto of bright light to the ground in the distance, illuminating the whole room for a brief moment. She counted the seconds, waiting for the thunder; its answering grumble came just before she reached ten.

She watched the storm rage for a little longer before she decided to put the kettle on. As she turned away from the window, another bolt of lightning lit up the room … and she jumped as she caught sight of a shadowy figure in the doorway, looking like a ghostly statue of a Roman god. Her hand flew to her chest. “Damn it, Darcy. You scared me to death!”

The statue flicked a switch, illuminating the black marble work surfaces. She saw the corner of his lip twitch—the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen him wear. “Obviously not.”

She filled the kettle and hit the button to boil. “Coffee?” she threw over her shoulder as she grabbed a jar of instant granules and opened one of the cupboards looking for a mug.

“That stuff you call coffee? No, thank you.” Instead he picked out a tiny espresso cup and wandered across to Charlie’s shiny silver machine—the sort covered in levers, pipes and buttons that needed an engineering degree to master.

As Elizabeth waited for her water to boil she wandered back to the window. With the kitchen lights on the only clear view she now had was of Darcy’s reflection. Charlie’s best friend had made a poor impression on their first meeting. While Charles and Jane’s mutual fascination for each other had turned to love, her relationship with his friend had begun with mutual apathy and gone downhill from there.

He sniffed. “So, what are you doing up so early? Santa doesn’t show up until tonight, you know.”

She didn’t turn, but instead glanced again at his reflection. He now leaned towards her across the island worktop, rubbing the shadow of stubble on his jaw as the machine did its mysterious work behind him. “Charlie took Jane to the maternity unit around two this morning. When I spoke to him she was six centimetres dilated.”

He grimaced as he held up a hand. “No gory details, please. That’s more than I need to know. So, when are you going to the hospital?”

She turned to face him, one eyebrow raised. “Trying to get rid of me already?”

“Not at all, but I know how close you and Jane are. I assumed you would want to be there for her.”

The boiling kettle clicked and she filled her mug, adding a splash of milk. “Well, sorry to disappoint and all, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Charlie didn’t think I’d be able to get out of the village. There’s been something on the news about floods.”

“It won’t affect us. We’re on high ground.”

“We might be, but the road out of the village isn’t.” Elizabeth shrugged as he left the kitchen. Next minute she heard the television in the living room. She followed, cradling the warm mug in both hands as she leaned against the door frame. The screen showed houses already part submerged, abandoned cars half covered with water and an inflatable boat carrying two old ladies and a small terrier down a high street to a safer location. Over the pictures, the newsreader offered dire predictions of record rainfall still to come and warnings of over seventy mile an hour winds. The police were cautioning everyone in the area not to undertake any unnecessary journeys.

If Jane had been watching this doom and gloom in the labour suite, there was little wonder she’d expressed fears for Elizabeth’s safety and begged her to stay at home.

Her gaze then slid to her nemesis, lounging in the corner of one of the large sofas. His face, lit only by the TV screen, seemed like a contrast of sharp angles and shadows, but at least he looked comfortable for once. She’d never seen him dressed so casually. His plain white t-shirt fit like a second skin, accentuating the contours his tailored jackets and crisp white shirts had always disguised. He stretched his arms across the back cushions, his dark eyes regarding her intently, but she ignored his scrutiny. “See? Even the police don’t think I should go to Jane. Looks like I’m stuck here.”

The silver machine in the kitchen started buzzing and Darcy jumped up, pausing as he passed her on the threshold. She’d forgotten how tall he was until he loomed over her. The space between them seemed to shrink to nothing. She had never stood quite this close to him before, close enough for her arm to graze his stomach. Despite the heat in her cup, the touch sent an icy flood through her and goose bumps spread across her arms.

“I’ll take a look later. There must be a way to get through.”

As he moved into the kitchen the strange sensation disappeared, replaced by a realisation that he was as desperate to get her out of the house as she was to leave.

She switched on the festive tree lights and sank down in front of the flickering screen as the news program continued to show heart-breaking scenes of loss and desolation: valuable crops drowned, roads turned into rivers, and trees uprooted by high winds. Worst of all were the stories of people who had tried and failed to halt the inexorable penetration of water into their homes, ruining their Christmas.

At some point Darcy came back—the tiny espresso cup nestled in his large hand—and he joined her silent vigil in front of the television. It was the first time they’d spent more than half an hour in the same room without bickering.

Eventually they began to see segments repeated from earlier. She glanced at Darcy, meaning to ask what he intended to do with his day. He was staring at her again—or, to be more accurate, at her body stretched out on the sofa. Elizabeth’s dressing gown had slipped as she’d moved, revealing her bare legs up to mid-thigh. Knowing he could never look at anything without imparting some criticism, she unfurled from her comfortable spot and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m getting dressed. Then I’ll make a start on Charles and Jane’s bedroom, so it’s ready for when they come home.”

“And when will they get back?”

Elizabeth bristled at his tone, as though Jane going into labour had spoiled his plans. “How should I know? If the baby is delivered sometime this morning or early afternoon, then there’s every chance we could see them later today or tonight. I doubt the hospital would keep them in over Christmas without a good reason.”

They were interrupted by another call from Charlie, letting them know everything was going fine, but progress remained slow.

Darcy held his hand out, beckoning her to hand over the phone. She considered refusing but then decided against it. “Hold on. Darcy wants a word.”

“Charles, do you imagine being home sometime today?” The answer didn’t seem to please him as a deep crease grew between his brows. “I can try and get Elizabeth over there if you think it’ll help.” He glanced at her briefly before adding, “No, I’ll just throw her over my shoulder. She doesn’t look too heavy.”

She was about to blast him for calling her fat, but then she saw the twinkle in his eyes. Darcy making jokes? Maybe the Mayans had been right and the world was ending.

“It might have receded a little by now… No, it’s still raining here…Well it’s worth a look. I think both ladies would be happier if we can get through.” A longer pause followed as Darcy nodded in agreement with whatever Charles was saying. “Leave it with me. I’ll let you know how I get on.”

When he ended the call, Elizabeth said, “What was all that about?”

“I’m going for a walk to see if we can get you to the hospital. You want to be there, and Charles thinks Jane would love to have you there as long as it was safe. He thinks the worst part will be at the bottom of the hill leaving the village, where the road dips to its lowest point. If the water level has dropped enough then your car might make it through. Or we could wade across together and pick up a taxi on the other side.”

As much as she wanted to support Jane through her labour, Elizabeth didn’t want to cling to any false hope. “Let’s not make too many plans until we know the full situation. If you’re really willing to go out in this weather then go ahead. I won’t stop you. Meanwhile I’ll get things ready for when they come home.”

Elizabeth heard the front door bang as she dressed. She parted the curtain, watching Darcy walk away down the lane. He’d raised his hood and his shoulders were hunched against the driving rain, but hadn’t taken one of the umbrellas. She shook her head, still not sure what to make of his willingness to get wet. She had always imagined him to be the last man in the world who would put himself out to help anyone —unless it was himself.

She returned to Charlie and Jane’s room, picking up the hastily flung clothes and putting them where they belonged. She changed the sheets and straightened the disorder, setting the new Moses basket close to her sister’s side of the bed for the convenience of night-time feeds. A changing table stood against the other wall, with a stock of wipes, nappies and all the other assorted creams and lotions Jane assured her were necessary for a new-born.

Elizabeth shook her head, amazed that something so small required so much equipment. Still, the room was ready for Jane to come home to. It was as much as she could do for now.

She went back to her bedroom to wrap a few last minute presents. She’d bought a colourful squidgy bear to give to Jane when the baby was born. Now it seemed an ideal choice to wrap for her niece or nephew’s first Christmas gift. Knowing Darcy would be with them over the holiday she’d reluctantly bought him a token gift to open, but he’d been the most difficult person to buy for. What did you buy a man who—according to him at least—had everything? She took extra care to wrap the present, making sure she stuck down as many of the edges as possible. He might hate her present but at least she’d have fun watching him trying to open it.

After that she went downstairs and peeked in the fridge. She nibbled on a piece of cheese as she tried to work out what parts of the Christmas dinner she could prepare early and what needed doing the following morning. A noise at the back door distracted her. It sounded less like a knock and more as though someone was trying to kick it down.

When she reached the door, the sight through the glass made her laugh. It was Darcy, but not as she’d seen him before. He was soaked through, from top to toe, his hair plastered against his skull dripping into his eyes. He held his arms out at strange angles from his body.

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

Elizabeth pursed her lips, trying to subdue the smile she knew would only worsen his mood. She held the door open and he kicked his waterlogged boots off and shuffled inside. As soon as he stopped moving a puddle began to form on the tiles beneath him. “Stay there, I’ll get some towels.”

She sprinted upstairs to the airing cupboard, returning with two large bath towels and a smaller one for his hair. A pile of sodden clothing—raincoat, fleece and socks—had already grown on the kitchen floor. He took the small towel first, giving his short dark hair a vigorous rub and leaving it sticking up at all angles. Elizabeth noticed that his t-shirt, pristine white only a few hours ago, was now muddy beige. “You were supposed to be checking the height of the flood, not swimming across it.”

He turned away, his back to her as he reached for one of the larger towels. “I slipped.”

Although she was tempted to tease, an alarming rusty red patch on the back of his shirt made her pause. “You’re hurt!”

Darcy twisted his body. “What? Oh, that. It’s just a scratch.”

“You can’t see it properly. Let me look.” She pushed the wet material out of the way, revealing a long score running vertically up the right side of his back. The top part was superficial, but the lower half, starting from the waistband of his jeans, looked much deeper and still bled. “How could you injure your back when you had a fleece and raincoat over your t-shirt?”

He turned back, but his gaze dropped to the now muddy floor. “I told you, I slipped. I fell back onto some woody stems and one found its way under my coat.”

“Where did that happen?”

“I went down as far as the road dips into the hollow. I wanted to check how deep the water went, so I waded in, but my foot slipped into the ditch between the road and a hedge and I lost my balance.”

“So you did try to cross?” When he offered her only a negligent shrug in reply she punched his shoulder. “You could have drowned!”

He sighed. “Clearly I didn’t.”

“But you might have. How do you think Charlie and Jane would have felt if anything happened to you, today of all days?” A hot surge of anger stole her voice and she distracted herself by reaching into the cupboard for a black bin bag. Then she stomped past Darcy, who hadn’t moved an inch, and began to collect his wet clothing. “Do you ever think about anyone except yourself?”

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to respond. His answer, when it came, was so low she barely caught it. “Sometimes.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Put your shirt in that bag. Jane has a first aid kit in the utility room. We need to clean the wound. I hate to imagine what’s in the water.”

He didn’t argue, pulling the t-shirt over his head and dropping it on top of the pile.

Shivering at the sight of his bare chest, Elizabeth escaped through the door into the utility room where she soon found the cupboard she was looking for. By the time she returned to the kitchen Darcy was waiting in front of the window, his hands braced against the sill. She took a moment to appreciate the interesting definition on his back and shoulders. He had the body of a man who kept himself in shape, without being fanatical about it. Shaking herself out of her daydream she set the basket on the worktop. “Can you turn around so I can see what I’m doing?”

Darcy silently complied, leaning against the island with his back to the window. She ran a careful finger down his back close to the line of the injury, prompting a muscle in his side to twitch. For a moment she could only stare at the perfect sculpture beneath her hands; hands that itched to spread themselves across his skin. She shook her head, disgusted with the path her thoughts had taken and instead set about cleaning the wound and applying an antiseptic cream. “I don’t think Jane has a plaster big enough to cover this.”

He straightened, then turned to look at her. “It’ll be fine.”

Feeling oddly shaken by his close proximity, she took a step back, then another as she wiped her hands. “I take it I won’t get to see Jane today.”

“Not a chance.” His harsh, implacable tone surprised her, and her eyes darted to his. There was no anger there, but another emotion just as powerful shone though, making her tremble. “It’s not safe for you and I won’t risk…” Darcy exhaled a long breath and pushed his fingers through his hair, taming the damp spikes.

The silence grew between them. Elizabeth found herself fascinated by the depth in his shadowed gaze. She’d never really noticed before, or perhaps she’d chosen to blind herself to those long lashes and heavy brows that only seemed to accentuate the dark chocolate eyes beneath.

He pushed away from the island, his momentum carrying him closer. She raised her chin, not wanting to be the one who broke eye contact. He didn’t stop until there was barely an inch separating them. She could sense the steady rise and fall of his chest and feel the heat from his body. Despite his ducking in the filthy water, a faint hint of soap and deodorant lingered upon his skin.

Elizabeth felt the tips of his fingers graze her cheek, chilling where they touched while raising her temperature everywhere else. They trailed down past her jaw and across her collar bone, before he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck.

Her heart beat faster as he leaned closer, obliterating the last inch of space between them.

The phone rang.

They sprung apart, as though they had been caught doing something wrong. Elizabeth spun away to face the window, her cheeks flaming as she drew the handset from her pocket. “Hello?”

If her voice held a slight tremor, Charlie didn’t seem to notice. “Hi, Lizzy. Just checking in. I’ve just nipped out of the delivery room to grab a sandwich. Having a baby is hungry work!”

“Can I remind you that you aren’t the one having the baby? Has Jane had anything to eat?”

“Jane’s doing great. I made sure she was okay before I went on my sandwich run.”

“So how is everything? I take it there’s no sign of the little one yet.”

“No, but it can’t be much longer. How are you and Darcy getting on? Jane was worried you might be at each other’s throats.”

She bit back a hysterical laugh and glanced over her shoulder. The kitchen was empty. “We’re fine, but Darcy doesn’t think we’ll be able to reach the hospital. It’s too deep to get through.”

“That’s a shame, but the most important thing is Jane knows you’re safe. I realise this wasn’t what you were expecting for Christmas Eve, Lizzy. If I’d known you and Darcy would be stuck there together on your own …”

“It’s not a problem. We’re having almost civil conversations and everything. We should manage until you get back without too much blood being spilt.” Well, no more than had been already.

“Jane says you’ll know what to do about Christmas dinner.”

“Yes, don’t worry, it’s all in hand. Just concentrate on Jane and the baby. We’ll cope until the three of you get home.”

Reassured, Charlie rang off after promising to let her know as soon as he had some news.

Elizabeth tapped the phone against her lip as she stared out into the garden. The rain had now stopped, but leftover raindrops meandered down the glass. She knew Darcy would have kissed her if Charlie’s call hadn’t interrupted, but that wasn’t the worst part. The most shocking discovery was that she would have let him. She might have even kissed him back.

But why would he want to kiss her now when he’d never shown the slightest interest in her before?

Ignoring what she couldn’t explain she instead turned her attention to Christmas dinner. Jane had decided on a simple menu that would satisfy the demands of the occasion while being able to prepare as much in advance as possible. Elizabeth started collecting everything she’d need to make the soup. She walked into the utility room to grab a large pan, only to jump out of her skin when she found a naked Darcy at the other end of the room, crouching before the washing machine.

Hearing her shriek he straightened, and she realised he wasn’t entirely unclothed. The half-light of the stormy day had caused his damp, biscuit coloured stretch knit boxers to blend into his skin.

“Darcy, are you trying to kill me? I thought you’d gone upstairs to change.”

He gestured to the clothes now circling in the machine. “My jeans were sodden. It made more sense to take them off here and wash them with everything else. I need a shower too, and then we can talk about … what just happened.”

Elizabeth felt her temper rise at his bland tone. “What’s there to talk about? Nothing happened!”

His eyebrows rose; one of his infuriating mannerisms that never failed to annoy her. “Really?” He shook his head but seemed amused. “You weren’t going to let me kiss you then?”

She straightened a basket of potpourri as the heat spread across her face. “Of course not. Why would I want to kiss a man who hates me?”

“Hates you,” he mused, giving the words no inflection. Instead he seemed to be studying them like a piece of modern sculpture, as though he couldn’t quite decide what the phrase was meant to represent. “May I ask how you came to such a conclusion?”

Elizabeth turned to face him, trying to bring to mind the occasions when he had angered or belittled her, either with words, or worse, with his contemptuous stares. “When you—” She realised her gaze had dropped, now lingering upon the subtle moulding of his abs. She shook her head. “No, I’m not having this conversation with you now. Not when you’re…”—she shook a finger loosely in his direction—“dressed like that!”

He smiled as he walked to the door, which meant passing closer to Elizabeth. He paused when he reached her and she noticed the goose-bumps covering his skin. “Too distracting for you? Too cold for me. I’ll have my shower then I’ll come back and we can try again.”

It sounded as much a threat as a promise as she tried to decide whether he meant the discussion or the kiss.

By the time Darcy returned downstairs, Elizabeth had already surrounded herself with bags of vegetables and a set of sharp knives. She knew these pathetic attempts to stave off the inevitable conversation were laughable, but she hadn’t yet straightened out in her own mind how she felt about this strange development in their relationship.

Not that they even had a relationship, or at least she thought they hadn’t.

When he entered the room he paused in the doorway, grinning at her industry. She was surprised he didn’t smile more often as it softened the hard edges of his features and made him look quite handsome. Elizabeth squeezed the handle of the knife as she chopped the onion, reassured by the weight of the blade in her hands.

He rubbed his palms together. “Where were we?”

“I don’t know where you are, but I’m making soup for tomorrow. Then I’ve got the red cabbage to cook and the veg to prepare.”

“Okay. What would you like me to do first?”

Elizabeth could only stare at him.

He shook his head, snorting. “You really don’t have a high opinion of me, do you? I can cook. Let me help.”

“The red cabbage?” she suggested, by way of a peace offering.

“Great.” He took up a position on the opposite side of the island and selected a knife from the block.

Although Elizabeth tried hard to focus on her own task, her gaze would often drift upwards, as she watched him shredding the cabbage and chopping apple with a determined countenance. He added everything into a pan then put it to one side, ready to cook. “I’m making myself a coffee. Would you like one?”

Unable to help herself, she raised her eyebrows, mimicking him. “You mean the stuff you call coffee?”

“It doesn’t have to be. I can make your sort as well.” He flicked the switch on the kettle then moved behind her to work his magic with Charles’ silver machine.

Although she forced herself to concentrate on dicing the potatoes, she was hyper-aware of every movement he made. It took all her effort not to turn around, even when she’d convinced herself he was staring at her.

When the water boiled, Darcy passed her again. This time his hand brushed against her hip, and she didn’t think it was accidental. He held the jar between his fingers as though it was poisonous. “One spoon of this disgusting freeze dried stuff, right?”

“Yes, please.”

“And milk?”

“Just a little.”

He stirred the milk in and then carried the mug over to her, standing too close to her shoulder. “Does it look okay?”

“That’s great.” She waggled the tip of her knife towards a clear space among the vegetables. “Just leave it there, thanks.”

Collecting his own drink he stood by the range, watching the soup bubble as he stirred the cabbage. Elizabeth was surprised to see how competent he looked by the stove. They worked together in companionable silence as Elizabeth bagged the peeled and chopped veg before storing them in the fridge. She looked around for her next job and realised everything she could prepare in advance was now done and there were no further tasks to distract her.

Darcy leaned back against the worktop, his arms crossed, smiling at her. “I enjoyed that. It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to spend any time in a kitchen.”

“I didn’t imagine it would be your thing.”

“You have some very strange notions about me, Miss Bennet. He walked around the island and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, coaxing her towards the living room. “And I really think you should give me the chance to set things straight.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

He stopped her in the open doorway. “No? Fine. We’ll just go back to where we were before Charles rang.”

Before Elizabeth had chance to reply, his lips came down on hers, softer than she imagined given the hard angles of his face. Her bones felt as though they were melting and she gripped his shoulders for support as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her closer than she thought possible.

By the time he pulled away both were breathless, and he seemed reluctant to release her. She still couldn’t quite believe any of this was real, or that he would want to kiss her. “Why…?”

Darcy pointed to the mistletoe Jane had hung, half hidden, above the door. “When you were standing there this morning with your coffee in your hand I almost kissed you then. I wanted to … very much.”

Elizabeth had always prided herself on her perception of others. She couldn’t believe she’d read Darcy so wrong. “I never guessed. I had no idea you thought about me in that way.”

“Of course not, because I’m supposed to hate you, right?” His lips quirked into a half smile as he brushed her hair back from her shoulder. “And no self-respecting female could fall in love with a man who hated her.”

He wanted her to love him? The thought burned through her brain as he kissed her again, their lips coming together in a slow, sensuous dance as his hand ran down her spine, pressing her closer towards him.

Darcy’s mouth lingered a moment longer on her lips before gliding over her cheek and her jaw until he came to her ear. “Oh, I am so far from hating you right now,” he whispered.

They spent the evening together on the sofa, sometimes kissing but mostly talking of families and the delights, or otherwise, of past Christmases. When they switched on the news to find an update on the weather, it seemed the worst of the storm had blown out over the coast and the floods were beginning to recede.

She wrapped herself around his waist. “I hardly dare think what could have happened when you slipped this afternoon. You shouldn’t have risked your life like that.”

He turned to her then, his gaze dark and serious as his fingertips grazed her jaw. “I wanted to get you to your sister, if I could, because I knew how important it was for you to be there with her. As happy as I am for Jane and Charles, I only thought of you. Then, when I slipped…”—he squeezed her hand, as though the memory bothered him more than he could admit—“I was under water for no more than three or four seconds; not enough time for my life to flash before my eyes, but in that moment you were the only person I thought of. I realised then if anything were to happen to me I would lose my chance to tell you how much I admired you.”

“I had no idea you felt anything for me, except perhaps disgust, especially during our first meeting when you called me one of the great unwashed.”

“Well, you were.”

“It was an outdoor Rock festival. Everyone expects to get muddy at those things. You were the one dressed for Glyndebourne.”

He laughed at the memory. “True, and I felt most uncomfortable as the odd man out. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“But you were never any friendlier the other times we met either. Jane’s wedding, Charlie’s birthday, the house-warming thing; you either ignored me completely or looked at me like I had two heads.”

“Charles laughs at my reserve in unfamiliar company. He knows I’m never at my best in a room full of strangers.”

“You’re a grown man, Darcy. Even you can manage to talk to people without continually offending them. If you didn’t dislike me why were you always staring at me?”

“Although I couldn’t pluck up the courage to talk to you, I could still admire you from a distance.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “You’re a beautiful woman, Elizabeth.”

“A beautiful unwashed woman, you mean?”

He shook his head. “You’re never going to let me forget those words, are you?”

She reached out to stroke his cheek, her touch bestowing an unspoken clemency. Elizabeth still wondered at the enormous change a few hours could make to her opinion of him. “Maybe I just need to make some more memories…happier ones.”

Something in his gaze flared into life, and a maddening smile grew on his face. “Challenge accepted, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth wasn’t surprised when he leant closer, holding her face in his hands like the most precious piece of crystal. This time, when his mouth slid over hers, he deepened the kiss without hesitation, leaving her breathless as she melted into his embrace. She allowed her hands the luxury of exploring the contours now covered by his soft cotton shirt; muscles she had previously only seen outlined against the kitchen window.

This time the ringtone from Elizabeth’s phone mocked them both.

She heard him growl as he reached into her back pocket. For a moment he looked as though he wanted to throw it across the room, but instead he took the call. “Yes? Of course it’s me. Who else would be answering Elizabeth’s phone?” He listened for a moment and then said, “Charles, I didn’t even know you had a cellar, and I can’t imagine why you’d think I’d bury her down there. Apart from impugning my honour was there another reason you called?”

She took the phone from him before Charlie had a chance to say anything else. “How is Jane?”

“She’s fine,” he replied, the smile obvious in his voice. “They both are. I’m a father, Lizzy …I have a son!”

“Oh, Charlie, I’m so happy for you. What did you call him?”

“We decided on Thomas, after your father, and Henry, in memory of mine.”

“They are lovely names and very traditional. Tell Jane I approve and I can’t wait to meet my nephew. When do you think you’ll be bringing him home?”

“Jane’s exhausted and as it’s getting late they probably won’t discharge her until the doctor makes his rounds in the morning. Hopefully, by then, the water will have receded enough for us to get home. Will you be okay on your own in the house tonight, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, meeting his dark gaze. His familiar stare—the one she’d originally mistaken for contempt—seemed so very different now. She wondered how she could have possibly missed it before. “Yes, I’ll be fine here with Darcy. Don’t worry about me. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

When she ended the call he plucked the phone from her fingers and tossed it onto a chair in the corner. “No more interruptions.”

She clapped her hands, relief warring with excitement. “I have a nephew!”

He grinned at her happiness. “So I heard. Congratulations. Not that we needed another reason to celebrate, but I don’t think Charles will object if we toast his son’s arrival.” Darcy left her only long enough to find a bottle and two glasses.

Their celebrations ran late into the night and at some point Elizabeth must have fallen asleep because she woke up in Darcy’s arms as he carried her upstairs and laid her upon her own bed.

Her head felt fuzzy from the champagne and she was glad he hadn’t switched the light on. “What time is it?”

“It’s one o’clock, and you’ve been asleep for the last two hours, but now I can say Happy Christmas, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

She reached out to stroke his cheek, the stubble rough against her palm. “Happy Christmas, Darcy.”

He knelt by the side of the bed, his face now in shadow. “You might think I’m being greedy, considering everything that has happened, but may I ask for an early Christmas present?”

She frowned. “That all depends what you’re asking for.”

“Nothing that should make you uncomfortable. I want you to call me by my first name rather than Darcy. I’ve wanted to hear my name on your lips for a long time.”

Elizabeth had to think for a moment. The only person she knew who didn’t call him Darcy was Charlie’s sister. “Happy Christmas, William.”

She heard him chuckle in the darkness. “That’s close enough … for now.”