For the Love of a Kilt
Elizabeth Bennet sat before her mirror, putting the finishing touches on a miraculous transformation. Her reflection showed a beautiful and elegant woman, where she normally saw an unkempt, thrown together young girl. For the first time in a long time she was pleased with her outward appearance, and gave herself a mental thumping for not taking better care of herself. But, alas, that's the price she paid for her art.
Jane knocked softly on Elizabeth's door and poked her head in.
“Oh, Lizzy, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
“I'm glad you finally caved. You need to get out and have more fun. Between work and painting, you never give yourself a break.”
“I have to pay the bills somehow.”
“Well, all that aside, I'm glad you are coming. And I'm sure I won't be the only one.”
Elizabeth eyed her sister sharply.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, nothing, just that maybe there will be someone there who might be happy to see you.”
“Jane, you said he wouldn't be there.”
“That's right, I did say that. Hmmm.” Jane's eyes danced with merriment.
“Jane, you promised me he wouldn't be there.” Elizabeth's eyes did not dance with merriment, but her stomach was dancing with something akin to nausea.
Jane sighed in exasperation. Why couldn't these two just see they were meant for each other?
“He probably won't be there. Charles said he had business in the city and might not make it back in time.”
“That was mean, Jane. Very beneath you. Besides, I`m the last person he would be happy to see, believe me.” She forgave her sister with a smile and gathered her things. To be honest, William Darcy was the last man on earth she wanted to see right now. Her shame and embarrassment for wrongly accusing him of hurting that bastard George Wickham was still fresh in her mind, though it happened eight months ago. Right now she felt she would never be able to face William again. She had been so angry, so unlike herself, and he had been so quiet, and had taken her outburst with such grace. When she had learned the truth, that Wickham had been the one who had done wrong and in such a heinous manner, she had felt wretched. She had written William a letter of apology, telling him how horribly wrong she had been and how sorry she was that she had been so cruel. She didn't know if he had received it, having never heard from him since.
Jane pulled her wrap around her as they stepped through the door into the cold night air and headed for the car.
“Kilts, Lizzy,” Jane purred as they buckled up. “All those beautiful men in beautiful kilts.”
Elizabeth laughed. When Jane's boyfriend Charles had suggested the annual Bingley Christmas party have a Scottish theme, Elizabeth had made a smart-ass joke about kilts. She didn't think Charles would take her seriously, but he had. And now the men were all to be dressed in complete Prince Charlie regalia, black ties, sporrans and all. Ah, men in dresses, she thought. With such rich meat to feed her sarcastic bent, she was beginning to think she might have a good time after all.
The Bennet sisters entered the lavish penthouse apartment of Charles Bingley only thirty minutes late. Elizabeth scanned the room as the butler took their wraps. Beautiful people were talking and laughing demurely in groups around the room. They were all mid 20's-upwardly mobile-old money types, while she was the struggling artist-who-only-got-invited-to-these-parties-because of-her-gorgeous-sister type. And more often than not she bowed out of these pity invitations, not really wanting to be patronized by the glamour girls and told a hundred times how absolutely noble it was that she was starving for her art. Case in point, one Caroline Bingley, Charles' very chic sister, who had noted their entrance and was heading their way. Elizabeth looked for an escape route, but Caroline was upon them before she could flee.
“Oh, Jane, you look divine. I'm so glad you could come. And Eliza, hello. How's your little art thing going?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off as Caroline took Jane's arm and escorted her around the room, introducing her to people she hadn't already met and reacquainting her with people she had. Elizabeth sighed with relief and liberated a glass of champagne from the tray of the nearest waiter. From across the room, an empty settee near the balcony door beckoned to her. She answered its call and quietly sipped her drink, watching the mating ritual of the upper crust in its natural habitat.
Soon Elizabeth realized that Charles and Richard were absent from the group, but she didn't have to ponder that fact long, as their voices drifted toward her from the direction of Charles' study down the hall to her left. The men were laughing at some private joke when she realized that one voice in particular was one she had no desire to hear that night. Her fight or flight instinct kicked in, and knowing what “fight” had gotten her before, she settled on “flight”. Rising from the settee, she slipped out the balcony door and into the darkness. She found a seat on a chaise as far from the doors as she could manage and rubbed bare arms to keep warm. Cold or not, the beauty of the city lights caught her eye, and she slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her, curling up to enjoy the view. She didn't hear the door open and close behind her, and she jumped at the sound his voice speaking her name.
“Elizabeth.”
Her heart flipped painfully in her chest. She didn't want to do this now, she had very much wanted to avoid this tonight. But she was no coward, and she knew she had to own up to her own mistakes. So she turned slowly and faced him, readying herself for the cold disapproval in his eyes. But it wasn't there. No harsh gaze, no clenched jaw, nothing of the familiar William Darcy. Instead there was something else that she couldn't place. A look that she had not seen from him before.
“You shouldn't be out here alone in the cold.”
William walked toward her, and the closer he came the more she took him in. She had always thought him handsome in a way, just not in any way that attracted her. His cool snobbery had always overridden any physical attraction he might have held over her. She had learned so much more about him over the last months, and she saw him now for what he was. A good man, with a good heart. And, good Lord, what an amazing set of legs.
Elizabeth took back all the evil remarks she had stored up for tonight's festival of men in skirts, for the man in front of her was made to wear a kilt. And, in her own defense, she had always been a sucker for a strong pair of legs, but this was just wrong. She had contrition and humiliation to think about, and not the obvious question of what was under that kilt. She shook her head a little bit, and did her best to look sorry, and to help matters out, she rose from the chaise and put her bare feet on the freezing concrete balcony. There, she thought, that should keep me focused.
William stopped a few feet away from her and looked at the ground, running a hand through his hair, mussing the carefully combed curls. Elizabeth bit her lip. With a deep sigh he slowly raised his eyes and gazed at her with the look of a lost little boy.
“Oh, for God's sake,” Elizabeth barked as she lost control. Grabbing his hand she drug him back into the apartment and down the hall to the guest bedroom she stayed in when she came to hang out with Jane and Charles and had too much to drink to drive home. She ignored all the obvious stared and smirks from her sister and Charles. Pushing William into the room and turning on the light, she locked the door behind her.
“Elizabeth, I thought you weren't angry anymore. I don't want to fight with you.”
She took a deep breath and braced herself against the door. She had hoped that bringing him here in the light would show him for what he really was, a man in a dress, thus snapping her back to reality. Nope, seeing him in full light was just as bad. He looked even better now that she could see him clearly. She leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. This was bad. She hadn't had any kind of intimate relationship for far longer than she wanted to admit. And here stood a man she had never given much thought to, who now seemed the most glorious man on earth. Hormone overload had seized her brain.
William noticed she was in some distress, her breath was becoming fast and shallow and she seemed flushed. He moved toward her, hoping to help, but was stopped by her hand on his chest.
“Stay over there,” she exhaled, eyes still glued to the ceiling. Strange emotions were washing over her at a rate that she could barely handle. She finally had to admit to herself that she had thought about him, often, and even though her thoughts of him weren't always pleasant, he was always prevalent in her mind. And if she hadn't found him attractive it was because she had been stifling any such thought as soon as it would spring up. It finally dawned on her that she had been lying to herself for quite awhile now, and had in fact been wrestling with feelings deeper than guilt and humiliation. She loved this man and had been too blind to admit it. Crap, she thought, great timing Elizabeth.
“Are you okay?”
“No, I'm in the throes of a very desperate realization.”
“I'm lost here, Elizabeth.”
She took a breath and looked at him, and he got it. And in two strides he had her pinned to the door between his arms. With restraint, he kissed her. Slowly at first, with a fire behind it that pushed him on. Her arms captured his neck and pulled him in closer, but it wasn't good enough. She grabbed his waist and tried to pull him in closer still, but their height difference made it impossible. William slid an arm around her back and pulled her backward with him as he stumbled toward the bed, never breaking their kiss. As the back of his knees hit the mattress, he sank down and moved her between his legs, finally pulling back to look at her.
“I've wanted to do that forever,” he whispered.
She smiled as she ran her fingers slowly up his thigh, pushing the kilt a little higher, admiring the cut of the muscles in his leg.
“I thoroughly give you permission to do it again, but how about you start here,” she said running the fingers of her free hand under the beaded strap of her dress, pushing it down her shoulder. William was not a man that had to be told twice, and the beautiful sensation of his lips on her shoulder made her bold. She ran her hand up his thigh under the kilt until she reached his hip. A naughty smile passed her lips as he pulled back again.
“I see you are a purist.”
“That I am.”
“I like that in a man.”
His lips sought out the base of her neck as she turned her attention to the removal of his tie and jacket. She took her time, relishing the feel of his muscles as her hands slid across his chest. The feel of him created a new kind of need in her. She knew that wherever they let this lead, it wouldn't be enough. Elizabeth pulled away from him, forcing him to look at her.
“I need more than this from you. Just this won't be enough, William.”
“You can have whatever you want from me, Elizabeth, just ask it.”
“That's a dangerous offer. Are you sure you want to make it?”
“I've never been so sure of anything in my life.”
With a small tremor she put her hand on his heart.
“I want this.”
“Its been yours all along.”
Her smile was fragile and her emotions raw as she continued.
“Well, in the interest of not being selfish, would you like mine in return?”
He ran his fingers over her cheek.
“Are you giving it to me?”
“I am.”
“Then I'd like to keep it forever if you don't mind.”
She kissed him in response, and reaching her arms around her back she undid her zipper and slipped off her dress. She smiled as he pulled away from her to look at her naked form.
“Then you might as well have all of this, too.”
“I definitely get the better end of the bargain,” he growled as he stood and lifted her from the floor and placed her on the bed.
Quickly he shed the rest of his clothes and laid down next to her on the comforter. Propping his head up on one hand he ran the other from her neck to her hip, tracing her curves with his palm.
“So, is it tradition not to wear anything under your evening gown?”
Elizabeth laughed and kissed him again, pulling him over and settling herself beneath him.
“I did it in honor of the kilts tonight.”
“Well, then I'll be sure to wear a kilt more often.”
Elizabeth purred in his ear as she helped guide him inside of her.
“You do that, baby, and I'll make it worth your while.”
The rest of the evening was spent in the slow and exquisite exploration of each other, and thanks to a very understanding best friend and sister, the couple was left uninterrupted until the party ended and the sun rose in the morning.
At breakfast, two blissful couples greeted the morn with coffee and laughter and hopes for a wonderful future. And so it was, all because of a kilt.