A Night with Mr Darcy to Remember

by P. O. Dixon

  “This is a burden which you still wish to share, else you would not have cried yourself to sleep. How long have you known?”

  “I only learned of it today. I know I should not have listened to what was meant to be a private conversation between the gentleman—my intended and his valet, but he is so odd a man that I found myself wanting to discover anything and everything I could to make sense of his character.”

  Helpless to do otherwise in the face of her anguish, Elizabeth wept.

  Darcy removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the bedside table. He then took Elizabeth in his arms. “There—there. Cry to your heart’s content.”

  He brushed a light kiss on her forehead. The smell of her hair invigorated him, as did her soft skin. He lifted her face and studied her tear-filled eyes. He would do anything to take away her sadness—to reassure her she was a desirable woman; a woman any man would be blessed to call his own. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers.

  He had meant to comfort her—really, he had. But her response to his kiss encouraged something more. Their eyes closed, their lips parted, and then his kiss became their kiss: sweet and tender, unhurried and undemanding.

  I need this, Darcy silently conceded, not wanting to concern himself with thoughts of guilt and only wanting to please. Growing increasingly aware that the desirable woman in his arms was no unknown stranger in the night but rather his friend’s sister, he suffered a steadily mounting degree of contrition. On the other hand, they were two consenting adults. Yes, she was engaged to another—a ridiculous man by her own account and one whom she vowed she could never love, but she was not married yet.

  Is there any harm in the two of us behaving accordingly? Their kiss grew more ardent, rendering his silent question a moot point.

  She is vulnerable—I ought not to take advantage of her fragile state of mind.

  He pulled away, breaking their kiss. “I should leave. I—”

  Chapter 3

  For the first time in Elizabeth’s life, a man’s lips touched hers—warm lips that were ever so moist, so sweet, and so inviting. The chaste kisses on the chin suffered on her wedding day would never have led to anything remotely akin to this. Of that, she was quite persuaded.

  I believe if I can have one night in the arms of this man, I will carry the memory with me for the rest of my life.

  Comforted by this man, Elizabeth was sure she did not wish to be parted with him so soon. “Stay with me.”

  “Are you certain you know what you are about?” Cupping her chin, he brushed his lips against hers once more.

  “If I stay,” he whispered, at length, “I will not be sleeping in a chair, longing to hold you—keeping myself at a safe distance while aching to hold you, wanting to make you mine. I promise you that.”

  She placed her hand against his chest. Trying desperately not to gasp aloud by the way this made her feel and leaning closer, she brushed her lips against his chin. She whispered in his ear, “Stay with me.”

  It was enough said. The gentleman made quick work of removing his boots. Then he stood up from the bed and faced her.

  Elizabeth watched as he pulled the shirt over his head. The tall, handsome stranger had all the best parts of beauty imaginable. He was everything one would expect in a nighttime dream come true, for she was absolutely persuaded that was indeed what she was suffering.

  Removing his body-hugging tan breeches, he was tantalizing moments away from joining her in bed.

  If this is but a dream, then fate is cruel indeed.

  Elizabeth imagined herself reaching out and touching him. His hard nipples, the dark chest hair that looked silky soft to the touch, the shape of his manhood underneath his increasingly tight-fitting undergarment. His dark eyes fixed on her as he loosened the drawstring that held them fastened around his waist and allowed his final piece of clothing to fall to the floor.

  Again, she fought hard not to gasp out loud at this beautiful man. Despite never having caught a glimpse of anything akin to him beyond pictures in books, she was quite persuaded she might never bear witness to such a pleasing sight again; certainly not in the flesh.

  He slipped into bed beside her, and his long legs gently coaxed hers apart. Thrilled by his touch, desire rippled through her core. Her eyes remained fixed on his swelling erection. He eased his way between her thighs and found a comfortable place between them. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear.

  “Are you certain this is what you want?”

  Hints of sandalwood and musk flooded her senses.

  He smells wonderful.

  Relishing in his masculine scent, she swallowed hard. His hands were gently caressing her waist and inching ever closer to her bosom.

  She silently encouraged him to ease her nightgown higher. Long fingers splayed over her bosom. He brushed a kiss over one of her taut nipples and then the other.

  Till that moment, she never realized how much she wanted what this man was offering her - a night of forbidden passion that she might forever hold in her memory.

  Thrilling her with his kisses, he eased her nightgown higher, and when it was time, he ceased kissing her, pulled the gown over her head, and tossed it aside.

  His erection pressed firmly against her, his broad chest warming her bosom, they both lay naked in each other’s arms. At length, their passions called for a more satisfying attitude on both of their parts.

  The thought of what she had been missing, and no doubt would be missing when the morning came brought a soft wave of tears to her eyes—tears not shed out of remorse or guilt, but rather tears laced with elation and eagerness. Tears of utter bliss. The thought that she was merely a conquest for this man whom she knew nothing about and one to whom she gave herself a bit too easily crossed her mind in turn, but it did not matter.

  At length, the touch of his lips against her most sensitive spot afforded sufficient ecstasy to end her silent recriminations.

  This is no time for such thoughts, Elizabeth considered as the rhythmic thrust of his tongue made her body arch in impassioned repetition.

  His wondrous wandering tongue, at times hard and at other times soft, and always, always precisely as it ought to be at the right time, encouraged Elizabeth to surrender her every inhibition. What she was feeling, she might never experience ever again. Far better to relish her newly discovered pleasure now than to regret what might have been later.

  All this joy he bestowed onto her, and still, he had not pierced her body and taken his own pleasure. In time, he would. Of that, Elizabeth was certain.

  As generous as he is, surely he has his own longing for satisfaction with which to contend. Elizabeth was not so selfish she would deny him that.

  I must not concern myself with such notions of what losing the most sacred part of myself to a complete stranger portends, Elizabeth silently opined, pushing all thoughts that might impede her pleasure from her mind: guilt, uncertainty, even apprehension. Loosening her firm grip on the bedcovers, she began sweeping her fingers through his soft dark curls, encouraging him to have his fill.

  At length, she cried out repeatedly in sheer unadulterated bliss. Her body trembling, her heartbeat racing—what an incredibly wonderful feeling. What a tormenting, sweet sensation.

  What a lot to miss should I never feel this way again.

  He trailed kisses along the length of her body, ceasing when his lips met hers. When she began calming, he whispered, “Shall I do more?”

  Please, she thought but did not say.

  “We can stop this at any time, you need only say the word.”

  “I do not want to stop. If I stop now, I may lose the only chance I will ever have to know what it feels like to be a woman.”

  His hardness was fashioned at her core. There was no turning back if she said yes. The last thing she wanted was to say no. Wanting all this man had to give, she could not even if she tried. His warm breath against her skin encouraged her to open her eyes. Their faces were only inches apart. They ga
zed into each other’s eyes.

  Never in my life did I ever suppose I might meet someone so loving. I never thought I would have a night like this. I dare not let it end.

  She trailed her fingers against his chiseled chin. “Whatever you did—whatever else you mean to do, pray do not stop now. Make me feel like a woman.”

  His smile spoke to his joy in hearing her speak those words. Wanting to reassure her, Darcy said, “Trust me, you need not fear unintended consequences.” He kissed her forehead and her cheek. “You are safe with me,” he whispered. “Utterly and completely safe. I will protect you. I know exactly what I must do.”

  Thus commenced the ultimate act between a man and a woman. Unhurried and patient just as it ought to be on the part of the former—a man of sense and education, familiar with the ways of the world, and tentative and trusting on the part of the latter—a young woman whose secret desires she had kept buried for so long.

  And when the ultimate act was over, and she knew she was his, if only for that one night, she suffered not even the slightest symptom of regret. At that moment, captured inside his tender embrace, she felt as though she was the most cherished woman in all of England.

  Chapter 4

  The ensuing passage of time saw a resurgence of their passion as well as the dawning on Elizabeth of what she was about in allowing herself to do all the things they were doing. Despite the pleasure of it all, surely some protest must be in order, if only for good measure.

  Reaching up, she touched his face. She swept her fingers across his parted lips.

  “I really do not think we should be doing this, sir,” she moaned, her naked body belying her words, his hardness and her softness as one.

  “What if we should be found out? What if someone should come into the room and discover us? Not only will my reputation be in tatters, but yours will be as well.”

  “You make an excellent point, my dear, but we ventured beyond that point some time ago, did we not?” he replied, pleasuring her with slow, deliberate strokes.

  “Let us enjoy what we are doing with no thought of what is right or what is wrong. Think only of the present and all the pleasures we are deriving here and now.”

  Darcy lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist as he sat up just enough to allow for deeper more satisfying love-making.

  This was by far the most sensual coupling of his lifetime. Decades upon decades might pass—nothing would ever compare. The knowledge that no man had enjoyed such wonderment with her made the experience all the more satisfying.

  The thought that she might suffer a bit of discomfort in the morning did cross his mind, and thus he decided to temper his desire—not withdraw, but rather pause so she might be encouraged to find her pleasure while he filled her completely.

  Her wetness was intoxicating. Darcy wanted nothing more than to bury his seed deep inside her, but he would not. She did not need that to add to what might possibly be a list of trepidations when morning light came peeking through the window pane. All he wanted her to take away from their chance encounter was the knowledge that she had been loved, worshipped, cherished, and adored.

  He could give her that—something to keep her warm on those lonely nights when she returned to her home and her empty bed, awaiting what he could only suppose was a fate she felt unable to escape.

  Indeed, this beautiful, beguiling woman deserves such a night.

  She wanted it—her body informed him as much by its wetness, its tightness — the tiny waves of pleasure that ebbed and flowed with intoxicating delight— her sensuous moans and her nails digging into his skin.

  We both more than want this. We both need this. And if during the course of our acquaintance, she so wishes it, then she shall have this—anytime she desires.

  The mounting intensity rolling through him in intoxicating waves, he withdrew just in time and released his seed on the bed covers beneath her.

  When he was recovered, he moved to lie beside her, and he recaptured her in his arms.

  Wanting to hold on to this intoxicating feeling of pure and utter bliss, Darcy said, “Pray you will spend the rest of the night with me.”

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth meant to sit up, but he would not let her. “Sir, it would not do for one of the servants to find me here with you in the morning.”

  “That might be a distinct possibility were we to fall asleep and fail to awaken, but I have other plans for the remainder of our time together.”

  Emboldened, she traced her fingers along his chest. “If it is yet another repeat performance that you speak of, I believe I can be persuaded.”

  Her lips met his in a tender kiss. At length, he said, “I am more than happy to oblige you, but until such time as I am able to do so aptly, I thought we might talk.”

  She bit her lower lip. “What exactly does a gentleman talk about after having made passionate love to another man’s intended?”

  He arched his brow. “Is that how it is?”

  Sensing she had wounded him, Elizabeth surmised he was not one to be teased. Regretting her choice of words, she said, “Forgive me, sir. I should not have said that. You and I both know that I wanted to be here as much as you wanted me here.

  “What I really ought to be doing is thanking you. I have never felt more like a woman than I feel at this moment—basking in the afterglow of our shared intimacy, and I do not know that I shall ever feel this way again. You have given me something wonderful to remember – nay to cherish – for the rest of my days.”

  “If it is any consolation, I know how it feels to find oneself in a loveless marriage.”

  This time he could not prevent her from escaping his embrace. Her heartbeat raced. “You are married, sir?”

  His voice somber, he said, “Seeking to fulfill the favorite wish of my late mother and her sister – my aunt – I married my cousin. Ironically, my marriage was never consummated either.”

  Her own circumstances aside, Elizabeth’s ensuing discomfort in learning that he belonged to another was palpable. She wanted nothing more than to flee. Seizing the bedcovers as though hiding her modesty, she sat up. She meant to escape his side. Wanting to stop her, Darcy took her by the hand.

  “Sir, you are married,” she protested. “You should have told me before – before …”

  “No. I am not,” he replied. “That is to say, I was married, but I am not married now.”

  Although his confession encouraged a deep sigh of relief on Elizabeth’s part, she needed answers. “I am a curious creature by nature, and thus I beg you to elaborate, for I am at a loss to comprehend your assertion.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. The turn in his countenance gave Elizabeth cause for concern.

  He was married, but he is not married now. Did his wife—did she die? Do I dare inquire into what is no doubt a private, perhaps painful, matter? By what right?

  Elizabeth determined not to be offended by his reluctance, but if it were in her power to help ease any burden he might be suffering, she surely meant to try. She placed her fingers on his dimpled chin. Her eyes met his. “You seem saddened. It might help to talk about it.”

  Taking her hand, he brushed a light kiss on her knuckles. He shook his head. “I would rather not. Not now.”

  “But you have been so compassionate and so attentive having listened to me. Allow me to return the favor.”

  “I will in due time—just not now. We have all the time in the world to discuss such matters after we have been properly introduced. Who is to say when I will have a chance to hold you in my arms like this again?” He coaxed her back into his embrace. “Let us simply enjoy this forbidden fruit for as long as we can.”

  At length, the lovers started exploring their mutual passion for each other once again. Approaching heights not theretofore attained, he whispered, “Tell me your name.”

  His warm breath against her skin thrilled her. Elizabeth shuddered. She swallowed. “Mrs. Tilman,” she moaned.

  “T
ell me your name,” he urged, ardently pressing his point.

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Elizabeth,” he moaned in turn. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  The sound of her given name uttered passionately from his lips sent waves of pleasure, the likes of which she never imagined possible, throughout every fiber of her body. Her tears of joy could not help but fall.

  Chapter 6

  Elizabeth marveled at the incredible man lying beside her, sound asleep. Oddly enough, a strange calm overcame her rendering her secure in the knowledge that although she had put an inordinate amount of trust in this man who was a stranger to her, it had not been reckless on her part. She truly believed he was not the sort of man who would give her any cause for regret. There was something pleasing about his mouth when he spoke. And there was something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavorable idea of his heart, thus assuring her that he was worthy of the trust she had placed in him.

  All the best parts of his magnificent body gleamed as a consequence of their amorous exertions. Touching him here, there, and everywhere in between had now become Elizabeth’s favorite wish.

  Demur if she liked but a part of her, the part that had longed to know a man’s touch, might well cause her to spend the rest of her life regretting not having seized the moment.

  I may never have such a chance as this again, she thought, smoothing her fingers along his entire length, lingering in some points longer and with more eagerness than others.

  The touch akin to silky-smooth velvet beneath her fingers was incredibly enticing. An interested twitch taught her that he was as much in her power as she was in his. Perhaps there would be other such opportunities as this during the duration of his stay. Perhaps her overnight stays at Netherfield might become a habit. A most fascinating habit at that. Elizabeth smiled a little at this thought.