Sense and Sensibility (The Wild and Wanton Edition) by Lauren Lane Page B

construction could ever be deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity.”
    Sir John did not much understand this reproof; but he laughed as heartily as if he did, and then replied —
    “Ay, you will make conquests enough, I dare say, one way or other. Poor Brandon! he is quite smitten already, and he is very well worth setting your cap at, I can tell you, in spite of all this tumbling about and spraining of ankles.”

CHAPTER X
    Marianne’s preserver, as Margaret, with more elegance than precision, styled Willoughby, called at the cottage early the next morning to make his personal enquiries. He was received by Mrs. Dashwood with more than politeness; with a kindness which Sir John’s account of him and her own gratitude prompted; and every thing that passed during the visit tended to assure him of the sense, elegance, mutual affection, and domestic comfort of the family to whom accident — or was it fate? — had now introduced him. Of their personal charms he had not required a second interview to be convinced.
    Miss Dashwood had a delicate complexion, regular features, and a remarkably pretty figure. Marianne was still handsomer. Her form, though not so correct as her sister’s, in having the advantage of height, was more striking; and her face was so lovely, that when in the common cant of praise, she was called a beautiful girl, truth was less violently outraged than usually happens. Her skin was very brown, but, from its transparency, her complexion was uncommonly brilliant; her features were all good; her smile was sweet and attractive; and in her eyes, which were very dark, there was a life, a spirit, an eagerness, which could hardily be seen without delight. From Willoughby their expression was at first held back by the embarrassment which the remembrance of his …
assistance
created.
    It was true, even he was having a difficult time putting their encounter on the hill out of his thoughts. Marianne had been so willing, so eager for him, so ready for anything — yet he felt certain that she had never done anything of the sort before. What was it about him that made her abandon her reserve?
    He could not stop thinking of the way his hand had so easily crept up her leg, finding its home in the soft place between the smoothness of her thighs. The way she’d cried out and arched towards him in exquisite delight. The way she’s trembled with pleasure as she closed her hand around his own arousal and milked him dry.
    He ached to get her alone once more so that he may slowly disrobe her in perfect daylight and bask in her nakedness. That he may use his mouth on other parts of her delicious body — a body that had been untouched by anyone but himself. That he may teach her to use her mouth on him …
    Yes, he must get to know Miss Marianne Dashwood better.
    Willoughby held Marianne’s gaze across the room, his body becoming warm. When the embarrassment in her eyes passed away, when her spirits became collected, when she saw that to the perfect good-breeding of the gentleman, he united frankness and vivacity, and above all, when she heard him declare, that of music and dancing he was passionately fond, she gave him such a look of approbation as secured the largest share of his discourse to herself for the rest of his stay.
    It was only necessary to mention any favourite amusement to engage her to talk. She could not be silent when such points were introduced, and she had neither shyness nor reserve in their discussion. They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual, and that it arose from a general conformity of judgment in all that related to either. Encouraged by this to a further examination of his opinions, she proceeded to question him on the subject of books; her favourite authors were brought forward and dwelt upon with so rapturous a delight, that any young man of five and twenty must have been insensible indeed, not to become an immediate convert to the