From Pemberley to Manhattan [COMPLETED]

Chapter 53

Nat

I couldn't comprehend how the hottest, most passionate kisser ever could be such a cold-hearted liar. I was so furious I could kick a street light. OUCH! That hurt!

Okay, Nathalie. You should use soothing words to calm yourself down. Puppies. Books. Museum. Queen Victoria. England. That British lying sack of sh– "Miss Nathalie."

Not. Happening.

"Please, allow me to explain."

I wanted to scream like a maniac. I wanted to chase him around Central Park tossing rocks at him. I wanted him to beg for forgiveness in the middle of Times Square! Yes, sometimes my vengeance methods were quite... Medieval.

Instead of demanding any of those things from him, though, I did the one thing that would surprise him the most: I faced him and said, in a flat tone, "Explain. You have one minute."

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do." Yeah, I was not doing a lot either, dude. Whatever that meant. To imagine I once considered your exquisite way of speaking charming. Ugh. Just ugh. "My feelings will not be repressed." Oh, seriously? I could barely repress the feeling of my hand slapping your face. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Holy. Fluking. Shirt. Did he just admit he loved me? Ardently? I'd never fully understood Fanny's favorite expression before (even though my Darcy moments had been quite helpful in that department), but now I grasped it completely: my panties were about to fall off.

If he kept speaking that way, I'd most definitely have rushed him to my room upstairs to introduce him to a concept from the twenty-first century I was very fond of: make up sex.

However, that desire vanished when he continued his speech. "My sense of your inferiority – of its being a degradation, despite my high sense of obligation toward your family – was dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence I am wounding, but is very unlikely to recommend my suit."

Huh? Did I hear it right? Did this arrogant, lying, I'm-such-a-perfect-gentleman Brit just called me and my family inferior to him? Panties were safely up, mister. With an electric fence around them now, thanks to your rudeness.

To make matters worse, he spoke of anxiety and apprehension, but I could see in his smug face he was sure I'd say yes and open my tanned legs to whatever he had to propose. Ha! Keep dreaming, Darcy.

"Miss Nathalie Estevez Brown, would you do me the honor of–"

"Your time's up", I replied coldly before he could offend me further. He was practically begging me to be kneed between the legs with that inferiority speech of his. What I hated the most? I wanted to kiss that aristocratic mouth more than I wished to knee him. "I'm tired of your lies and your arrogance. I've had enough. I'm through with you, Darcy. I'd rather die alone than spend my life with someone who considers me inferior to him."

He was silent for a while. His cheeks, which had been flushed with emotion, now were red with anger. I'd hurt his pride. No more than he deserved. But he recovered. Oh, did he recover.

"And this is the reply which I am to have the honor of expecting! I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected. But–"

"Civility?" Now he'd pushed all my buttons. Nathalie was malfunctioning. The circuits were about to burn. "You call myself and my family inferior to you, after we took you in, after all we've done for you, and you dare say you love me? I don't believe in love without respect, Darcy. And I sure as helmet don't believe in love when both parts are not equals."

That should have been that. Only it wasn't. Yet again. "I have already spoken my mind about this matter. My family shall not be expected to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections, yet I–"

"You misunderstand my meaning, Mr. Darcy." He clearly wasn't used to be interrupted – especially three times in a roll – by anyone, let alone a woman. Well, he'd have to grow accustomed to that, since he was in my world now. "I don't consider you my superior. Quite the contrary: what I wished to say was that you are far inferior to my family and me. We are too good for you."

He gasped in shock. I grinned in triumph.

Satisfied with my performance on that round, but convinced the fight was far from over, I decided it was time to cool off spending some time alone in Central Park.

I was about to leave Darcy, who was well accompanied by his mortification, when a white van driving too fast on our street caught my attention. Its dark windows prevented me from seeing who was inside. Something was wrong. I felt it when I saw the van, and was sure of it when it stopped abruptly in front of our building, where Darcy and I had been standing.

The side door slid open, and I wished I hadn't seen the inside of the vehicle, after all: two men, all geared up, as if they were starting a new World War or something, were holding guns. Guess what the weapons were aiming at?

My head and Darcy's, respectively.

I couldn't speak for him, but I appreciated my head exactly where it was. Besides, I'd much appreciate if it stayed above my neck for the next five or six decades.

There was no time to react; I heard the shots and felt the bullet pierce my skin before I could yell.

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