It was one of those magical winter nights: cold, sharp, and clear. The light from the moon and the stars struck glints in the snow, and the soft light that glowed from the windows of the house was welcoming. Lizzy, feeling overheated by the crowd at the party, had slipped out onto the terrace and was savouring the peace and quiet of the night air. The faint sounds of the revelry within didn’t disturb her; she was lost in her own thoughts.

Hunsford Farm had been in the Fitzwilliam family for generations and, despite the current difficulties in the agriculture industry, it was plainly a prosperous concern. The farmhouse was large; a small manor really, built sometime in the 18th century, and added to since then. Curiously, the odd mix of building styles gave the building a warm and welcoming look rather than detracting from it. She hugged herself, rubbing her upper arms and pulling her pashmina a little tighter. She sat down on the low wall that surrounded the terrace and stared out into the valley, idly counting the lights from other similarly remote houses that she could see.

What a wonderful place to grow up, she thought, before she remembered that the Richard and his brother and sister hadn’t lived here until their father had retired from the Army. It was odd to hear Richard admit that he didn’t really have a place to call home, and even stranger to realise that it didn’t bother him in the slightest. She thought fondly of the house in Longbourne where she’d grown up, beautifully kept apart from the chaos of her father’s study. In spite of the occasional differences of opinion between Lizzy and her mother, she still had fond memories of her childhood, and she remained close to her sisters. She spent time with Jane regularly, and although Lydia was going through an awkward stage, it didn’t prevent the two of them getting along most of the time.

The Fitzwilliams, on the other hand, seemed to feel no need for regular contact. They got together every so often, but they all seemed to have taken different paths, and appeared to have no wish to interfere in each other’s lives. Lizzy had been slightly shocked to find out that Richard was reluctant to take part in the family Christmas and New Year that Georgiana and Sophie had organised between them. Having initially agreed to join in, he had changed his mind as the festive season approached, and had eventually been persuaded to come to the New Year’s party, but not to the Christmas dinner. Lizzy hadn’t interfered, reckoning that it was up to Richard to decide how to deal with his family.

She sighed, rubbing her arms again, contemplating a return to the party before she froze to death. Suddenly the noise from the party grew much louder and then quieter again, as someone opened the door and came out on to the terrace. Assuming that it was Richard coming to look for her, she turned round, smiling. Her smile faded slightly when she saw that it was Guy.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted, “but I was just about to go back inside.”

“Don’t go on my account, I’m just escaping the noise for a moment.”

To her surprise, Lizzy found herself smiling warmly at him.

“It is a tad crowded in there. Are your family get-togethers always this rowdy?”

“You might have noticed that rowdy element is mostly surrounding your boyfriend and his cronies,” Guy said dryly.

“That’s Richard for you,” Lizzy sighed, “Is he telling outrageous war stories?”

“He is. How did you guess?”

“He did the same thing at a party at my parents house last week. He terrified one of the neighbour’s children.”

Lizzy stood up, preparing to go back inside. As she walked past Guy, he put out a hand and gently took hold of her arm. Surprised, she looked up at him.

“Can we talk?” he asked, letting his arm drop back down to his side.

“I don’t know,” Lizzy said warily, “Every time we meet, we seem to end up arguing and as I know that you keep telling Richard how unsuitable I am…”

“Please?”

“OK. What is it you want to say to me?”

“I want to ask you something, and I want you to hear me out.”

Lizzy nodded her agreement.

“I don’t dislike you, Lizzy. I think you’ve actually been good for Richard, I haven’t seen him this happy in years,”

“There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?” she asked, resigned.

“There’s no future in it, Lizzy. Somehow, I don’t think you’re the type to settle into being an Army wife.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t think Richard is going to settle down either. He’s never going to leave the Army, and that’s always going to come first for him.”

“I know that, and if I can live with it, so should you. It’s none of your damn business, Guy!” she exclaimed, annoyance creeping through despite her best efforts to remain unruffled.

“You know I’m right, Lizzy.”

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears and he realised with a jolt that he’d hurt her. There was an awkward silence as Lizzy turned her face away from him and stared off into the distance.

“Are you happy now?” she asked quietly.

“No, Lizzy.”

He put both his hands on her arms and she started at the sudden warmth of his touch, looking up at him.

“I don’t want to see you hurt because of Richard’s life, and I don’t want to see him hurt because one day you realise that this isn’t what you want and you walk away from him. I want to ask you to give him up before things get too serious.”

“I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?” she asked curtly, turning her face away again.

“It’s never too late, Lizzy. Look at me, please,”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care about my cousin…and…”

“And?” she demanded.

Guy said nothing, staring down at her, her eyes challenging him. He had drunk very little that night, but suddenly he felt light-headed.

Fuck it, he thought, recklessly bending his head to kiss her, knowing that he was being a fool.

For one brief, exhilarating, delirious moment he was able to fool himself into believing that she was responding to him, as he pulled her hard against him. His heart raced at the warmth of her, the softness of her lips, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. He came down to earth with a crash when she pushed violently against him, breaking the kiss.

Her face was incandescent with outrage as she swung an arm up and slapped him once, hard, across the face.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He held a hand up to his injured cheek, trying desperately to focus on anything other than the memory of how good it had felt to hold her.

“Sorry,” he said tersely.

“Is that all you can say?” she snapped, “You utter shit. All that ‘I care about Richard…’ stuff was lies, wasn’t it?”

“No!” he protested, all the while knowing that she was right.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell Richard that you manhandled me?”

“Georgiana. Richard would kill me and she’d be upset,” he quipped.

She wasn’t amused.

“Too bloody right he’d kill you! And I’d hold you still for him. What did you think I’d do? One kiss from the wonderful Guy Darcy and I’d melt right into your arms?” she paused to take a deep breath, “How dare you assume that I’d even look at you? You arrogant, stuck-up, pompous, misogynistic, pathetic excuse for a man!”

Guy said nothing. He was thoroughly ashamed of his actions and knew that there was nothing he could say or do to make up for this. Feeling ineffectual and frustrated, he lashed out at her.

“What other opinion am I supposed to have of a woman who’ll turn up at a function with one man, and leave with another? I thought that tonight might be my turn.”

“You know something, Guy Darcy?” she said coldly as she took a step closer to him and poked him in the chest with one long finger, “You’re going to have to invest in some lessons if you want to sweep a woman off her feet. Take it from me, no woman wants to be kissed by a man who uses his mouth like a sink plunger.”

Guy flushed and opened his mouth to retort.

“Perhaps you could persuade Richard to give you a few pointers,” she stepped back, a calculating look on her face, “Believe me, he’s very…knowledgeable…about what pleases a woman,” she gave him a satisfied smile as her glance swept him from top to toe and back, pausing at his groin, one eyebrow arched eloquently, “and he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

With that, she turned on her heel and went back inside. He stared at her retreating figure, his blood coursing with a heady mix of anger and arousal.

“Shit!” he swore, gazing up at the night sky.

It was twenty minutes to midnight, and Richard scanned the crowd looking for Lizzy. He spotted her sitting quietly in a corner, clutching a glass of water in one hand. Her other hand tightly gripped the arm of the chair, and her whole posture spoke of tension. He made his way over to her and knelt down in front of her. She immediately relaxed slightly, smiling at him.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, just a little tired. What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight,” he stood up, holding out a hand to her, “Come with me.”

“Don’t you want to wait for the countdown?” she asked, putting a hand in his and letting him pull her to her feet.

“Just come with me.”

He led her out of the crowded room and through the only slightly less crowded hallway. He stopped at an alcove that was curtained off, pushing aside the heavy drape to reveal a door. Turning the handle, he pushed it open and led her inside.

The room was lit only by the firelight, and Lizzy could barely discern the furnishings. A large heavy desk sat facing the drawn curtains of the window, and two battered, mismatched chairs flanked the fireplace. The room was defiantly masculine, all old prints and books. Three swords hung above the mantelpiece; seeing Lizzy eye them curiously, Richard pulled one down, drawing it out of its scabbard. He turned it this way and that in the dim light, the metal glowing cruelly cold and beautiful. Lizzy fought a moment’s unease at the competent way he handled the weapon, his expression impossible to make out.

“This belonged to my several-times-great-grandfather,” he said quietly, running a thumb professionally along the edge of the blade, testing its sharpness, “He died at Cuidad Rodrigo in 1812, leaving behind a young wife and a baby son he’d never seen. I’m named after him.”

Lizzy reached out to touch the metal, wincing in surprise as she cut her forefinger. She put it in her mouth for a second.

“It’s sharp!” she said, surprised.

“Of course it’s sharp,” he said, amused, “It wouldn’t be much good if it wasn’t.”

He reached out and captured her hand, bringing her finger to his lips and kissing it gently, making her draw in a sharp breath.

“Do you have one of those?” she enquired, waving a hand in the general direction of the fireplace.

“Yes, and before you ask, it’s just as sharp! Look…”

He held out his left hand to her, fingers spread, palm down. She took it between both of hers, wondering what she was supposed to be looking at.

“There’s a scar between my thumb and forefinger. Can you see it?”

Lizzy saw a faint raised white mark about an inch long running towards his wrist. She traced it gently with one finger.

“What happened?”

“Sandhurst. I was practicing sword drill. After you give the salute, you have to sheath your sword, but you can’t break eye contact with the man you’re saluting…” he held the scabbard against his left side, his left hand near the top of it, his right arm holding the sword upright and turned to face her, his face now in shadow, “Watch.”

His posture straightened and his expression became detached as he brought the sword up to rest in a perfectly straight line, the hilt in front of his face. Lizzy gave a slight gasp at the sight, as he swept it in a glittering arc down to his right, and then returning it to his face in a brisk action. The movements were controlled and graceful, yet somehow threatening, the steel making a sharp whistling sound as it cut through the air. Finally, he pointed the sword towards the scabbard and slammed it home confidently. His eyes never left her face for the few moments it took for him to perform the manoeuvre.

“Impressive,” she said.

“When I was putting the sword back in the scabbard, it caught my hand and I sliced it open. For the next month, I kept reopening the cut,” his face softened into a rueful smile, “Cost me a fortune in white gloves, but needless to say my drill was faultless.”

He hung the sword back up on the wall and then turned to face her again. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was lost as the clock began to strike midnight.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, “We’re missing the bells.”

“For this,” he said taking her hand and pulling her towards him.

He bent his head to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly against him. Her arms came up around his neck as she melted against him. After a brief moment, he pulled away a little.

“I didn’t want anyone else kissing you tonight. Happy New Year, my Lizzy,” he smiled down at her, a warm heartfelt expression in his eyes.

Lizzy felt a small twinge of guilt as she remembered Guy, but suppressed it, reasoning that it had hardly been her fault…

“Happy New Year, Richard,” she said quietly.

“Have you made any resolutions?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, lingering to caress her neck.

“Not yet,” she confessed, shivering at his touch, “what about you?”

“One.”

He bent his head to her neck, his mouth replacing his fingers, one hand pushing her hair aside.

“Care to enlighten me?” she asked, her voice a little strained.

“I’m resolved never to let you go,” he said teasingly, as she pulled away from him to look at him

“Really? That could get awkward after a few days. What about your job?”

“Hang the lot of them.”

Lizzy smiled and then stood up on the tips of her toes to kiss him. She reached one hand behind his head, feeling the short hair beneath her fingers. With her other hand, she undid the top two buttons on his shirt. Richard gave a moan into her mouth as her fingers made contact with his skin, and her mouth left his to trail kisses along his neck.

“What are you doing to me?” he asked in strangled tones.

“I thought that might have been obvious,” she replied, laughing against his throat, which made him shiver delightfully.

“Not here, Lizzy, anyone could walk in,” he protested, not very convincingly.

She stopped kissing him, and leant back to look up at him.

“God,” he breathed, need written plain on his face, “I want you so much.”

“I love you Richard,” she said softly.

Richard pulled her hard against him, kissing her with a passion that was almost aggressive. She responded in kind, pressing herself so close against him that it was almost as if she were trying to climb under his skin. His hands worked their way under her top, splaying across the skin of her lower back, his fingers tracing a fiery path on her spine. She clung blindly to his shoulders, their strength the only thing she was aware of as his lips drove all rational thought from her head. She didn’t know how long they stood there and was vaguely aware of him moving towards the desk, pushing her up on it, and settling himself between her legs. His hands moved from her back to the sides of her hips, his kisses barely any more gentle now, his lips edging along her collarbone. With one hand she steadied herself on the desk, her other hand clutching his upper arm, feeling the strength of his muscles as they moved under his skin.

“Tell me to stop, Lizzy, or we’re going to end up shagging on my father’s desk,” his voice heavy and thick.

He lifted his head to look at her, his hands still caressing the outside of her thighs. Lizzy was unaware of how desirable she looked to him, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. His eyes were dark, feral and predatory in the shadowed room, his breathing harsh.

“I wish I wasn’t sharing a room with Georgiana tonight,” she sighed, lifting a hand to his chest.

Richard expression changed to one of resignation as sighed and leant forward, resting his forehead against hers.

“So do I,” he complained, “Right now I’d sell my commission for a room with a bed and a door that locks. You can’t even come to my room, unless you want Chris and Guy to watch, that is,” he said with a wicked grin.

Lizzy laughed shortly.

“Somehow, I think neither of them would appreciate it,” she smiled regretfully at him, unable to resist adding, “Although, you could probably give Guy some tips.”

“Sorry?”

Richard looked a little puzzled.

“I just thought that there must be something wrong with his technique…after all, he’s single.”

Richard snorted derisively.

“There’s nothing wrong with his technique that a personality transplant wouldn’t cure.”

“That’s a little harsh, Richard,” Lizzy said, feeling awkward.

“So were the things he said about you,” he gave a heavy sigh, “I don’t want to talk about him. He might be my cousin, but he’s got a lot to learn about women if he thinks that you’re unsuitable.”

Lizzy said nothing, bringing up a hand to rest on Richard’s cheek.

“Bollocks to him,” Richard said quietly, “as long as he leaves you alone, I don’t care.”

“I doubt he’ll go out of his way to annoy me, “ she reassured him, Especially after what I said to him earlier!, she added mentally, “And I don’t really care about him anyway.” she smiled, “I’m only interested in you.”

“Good.”

He kissed her again, swiftly and firmly.

“Are you sure we couldn’t just…?”

“It’s only two nights, darling,” Lizzy said consolingly, “And then we can go back to Longbourn. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He stood back, holding out a hand to her as she slipped off the desk.

“Come on, we’d best be getting back to the party,” she said, pulling him towards the door.

As it closed behind them, there was a sound from behind the curtains. They parted to allow Guy Darcy to rest his feet on the floor. He stretched his legs out in front of him, staring down at his shoes, his hands gripping the edge of the seat. He had hidden in the study after his confrontation with Lizzy, sitting in the window seat behind the curtains with a large brandy, cursing his stupidity. Hopelessly, he wished he’d stayed in the main room, anything would have been better than listening to her telling Richard how much she loved him.

“Shit!” he swore, for the second time that night.