by Lory Lilian
He trapped her mouth in another deep, eager kiss in which she joined him eagerly. His hands travelled down, and she waited to sense his touch, but she knew little of what to expect. His fingers brushed lightly over her breasts, and she startled, moaning loudly as her back arched towards his touch. His caress began shyly then grew daring and more passionate, tracing torturous circles until his palms possessively cupped their roundness and rested there.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered. “More beautiful than I dreamed in the lonely nights without you.”
She moaned again, turning her head in search of a kiss that he avoided. His mouth followed his hands, greedy to satiate its hunger, tracing a burning line over the soft roundness, exploring and tasting with passionate urgency.
His hand was now free to explore and conquer the last unrevealed parts of her body; his strong yet gentle fingers brushed over her legs through the soft fabric of the gown, then travelled up. Her thighs hastily locked together, but he continued the conquest as gentle strokes tantalized her legs and parted them daringly. Soon, all opposition was gone, but she could not suppress a cry when his hand moved a little higher.
She heard him whispering her name but failed to understand his words. His mouth captured her other breast, and she sighed again as her entire body arched.
Her senses were divided between the sweet torture of his lips and the teasing exploration of his fingers on the most intimate part of her body. With the little reason that remained, she wondered whether such pleasure could truly exist; but he proved that she could feel even more when insatiable kisses replaced his fingers an instant later. Any reasonable thought vanished as waves of pleasure exploded in her body and everything turned dark around her.
It took some time before she could—and dared—to move and open her eyes. He covered her face with small kisses as she averted her eyes. Her mind told her that what happened was mortifyingly improper, while her senses admitted that nothing more blissfully pleasant could exist.
“You are more beautiful than I have ever dreamed, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “And you are all mine now…”
She looked at him then nestled beneath the sheets to conceal herself from his intense stare. He removed his nightshirt, and her cheeks coloured as she tried not to look at his naked body. He lay by her side under the silky sheets, and his arms enfolded her.
Her head cuddled on his chest, and she sighed when she could hear his heart beating. Her hands moved to encircle his waist; his skin—so fully exposed to her touch—made her shy, and her hands dared go no further.
“I never thought…everything that happened was so…it was so unexpected,” she dared confess.
His voice changed instantly, and a warm whisper close to her ear made her shiver and laugh.
“May I dare presume you found it unexpectedly enjoyable?”
His voice could barely conceal his mirth; she lifted her head slightly to meet his eyes and cast a sharp glance at him. His tongue tantalised her earlobe, and she quivered with nervous delight.
“You are a cruel man to trifle with me in such a way. This is not a proper time for teasing.”
“You are right, my love. This is the proper time only for love and passion.”
He assaulted her with renewed desire, and Elizabeth surrendered completely. She knew there was more to come before she became his wife in every way, and she was impatient for that moment to come.
Every touch, every kiss, every stroke were even more irresistible. Her body seemed to possess a will of its own, and every reaction was a plea for more. For a while, she tried to keep the covers around her, but his greedy hands kept pushing them away.
“Will you allow me to see you? I beg you, my love…”
The battle between modesty and passion was won by the latter.
She barely understood the words of love tickling her ear as his weight suddenly took her breath away. His touches made her tremble; his kisses burned her skin. Inside her, a fire was growing as shivers chilled her skin.
“Please look at me, Elizabeth.”
She obeyed instantly, though her eyelashes felt heavy. He was lying upon her, their faces merely inches apart. His weight took her breath away. But she did not need to breathe. She needed nothing but his closeness, his warmth, his sweet whispers.
“I love you so much, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. More than words can say. More than my heart can bear. My love for you made me a better man—a humble man. You taught me the meaning of love.”
“As did you, my darling husband. I learned the meaning of love and happiness from you.”
His expression changed again, and his eyes caressed her face with infinite tenderness. Elizabeth’s soul melted as her body opened to him. With her love and desire matching his, and with complete, unconditional trust in her husband, Elizabeth offered herself to him.
Her body did not wait to be conquered, and this time, her passion did not wait to be satisfied. Her love did not wait to be fulfilled. She did not wait for him to make her his wife but gave herself to him.
He entered her slowly, with gentle care and sweet tenderness.
She felt him inside her body, just as he had been inside her mind and soul for so long. Her love burst from every inch of her body to meet his. She sensed his ardour and restrained passion, and she wished to make him feel the same—to feel her ardent love, passion, and desire for him—his passion and hers joined together.
Their fulfilled desire eventually shattered their bodies, her arms embraced him with desperation, and his lips covered her face with endless kisses. The sound of their wildly racing breaths broke the silence of the chamber, and there was only blissful happiness.
The storm grew outside, but peace unfolded around the two lovers who lay exhausted in each other’s arms. There was no longer she and he but them together with their ardent love wrapped around them.
Epilogue
Pemberley, nine years later
The bright redness of the roses was the first thing Elizabeth noticed. The flowers were stunningly beautiful, but she closed her eyes, smiling at the handsome image in her mind.
Her maid was pacing around, preparing her gowns, but Elizabeth was not yet ready to abandon her bed. It was empty but his shape, his scent, his trace were still there on the sheets, on her body, within her mind and soul.
They had awakened together earlier, just when the first sunshine lit the windows. He wanted to be the first to offer her his birthday gift, but she imprisoned him in her arms, and he gladly allowed his wish to be defeated by her desire. She did not need—nor want—any gift but his presence.
He had been by her side for nine years, and every day she wondered about her felicity. The blessing of their two children—Robert now seven and Cassandra just turning four—increased their responsibility and duty but never diminished the restless passion that enhanced their deep and powerful love. The children were the centre of their lives, but few days passed without them stealing a few private moments for themselves.
Elizabeth could count the instances when they had been separated, as the sorrow of his absence was as vivid as the bliss they shared.
In nine years, she never requested anything from him, as he gave her everything. She hoped and prayed that she repaid him—at least slightly—and that their marriage had been to the advantage or both. He often told her that he and Pemberley were fortunate to have her and that she brought liveliness and warmth to the beautiful but cold stones of the manor as well as to his heart. But Elizabeth knew she was the one who benefited infinitely more—not from his wealth, but from his affection, his wisdom, his knowledge, and his kindness. His generosity was almost a fault, as he never refused any request even slightly related to her.
He provided advice and support to Bingley, who had purchased an estate for Jane and their three children only thirty miles from Pemberley. He helpe
d Mary and her husband—a clergyman with a good heart, common sense, and education—to find a living in Hertfordshire. He even pretended ignorance to her sending part of her pin money to Lydia whenever she had a chance.
Over the years, under Elizabeth and Jane’s support and with the benefit of Georgiana Darcy’s support, Kitty changed and improved, becoming a most admired young lady. Even Mr. Bennet declared his astonishment and approval. She ended by marrying Mr. Hugh Wilson, Bingley’s friend and a successful lawyer.
The Gardiners were close to them in every way. They often visited Pemberley, and when in London, there was rarely a full week without getting together. The boys were now at school under Darcy’s supervision and protection, studying and working dutifully.
Her parents were still at Longbourn with only Kitty close by. Mrs. Bennet refused to leave her sister and friends in Meryton, as well as the opportunities to boast about her daughters and their excellent marriages.
Mr. Bennet, however, divided his time between Longbourn and Pemberley. Darcy had offered him a large, comfortable carriage by which he could travel comfortably to Derbyshire whenever he pleased.
Darcy claimed he did all of this for selfish reasons. Making his wife happy was his happiness, so he actually did everything for himself. In nine years of marriage, he still had not learned to accept gratitude and refused to admit his generosity to her family and everyone else in his care.
She knew he was doing everything for her—just as she did everything for him. Over the years, their love flourished—as did their passion for each other. Their ardent feelings deepened and grew. They learned to read each other’s thoughts by a mere glance and guess each other’s desires from a little smile.
Their opinions were different on many occasions and they argued about all kinds of things. But in essentials, they always agreed.
Only one situation ever ended with a fight and two nights of tortuously sleeping apart. It was related to Georgiana, who had grown to be one of the most admired, talented, and elegant heiresses in Town. With a crowd of suitors, their darling sister was twenty when she fell deeply in love with Robert Felton, Earl of Surrey and eldest son of the Marquess of Penrith. He had excellent riding skills, was exceedingly handsome, and had a great inclination for ladies’ company—according to Darcy. The earl’s admiration and affection for Miss Darcy seemed genuine, but Darcy was strongly opposed to the match.
When Colonel Fitzwilliam—now happily married to the former Miss Emma Godwin—attempted to speak in favour of Lord Surrey, he only began a heated debate that ended unsuccessfully. In vain, the colonel explained that the earl was too rich and had too good a situation in life to be suspected of dishonourable intentions, but Darcy’s opposition remained strong, as he feared Georgiana’s delicate soul would be hurt by such an insensitive man.
Torn between Georgiana’s silent suffering and Darcy’s stubborn opposition, Elizabeth quickly recollected her own torment from the time she began falling in love, so she hastily chose. Several times, she tried to convince her husband to at least give Lord _____ a chance to prove his affection and his worthiness; however, for the first time since they married, she regularly failed. He accused her of allowing herself to be charmed by the earl’s easy manners and handsome features, while she accused him of being absurd and jealous, and he spent two nights in his own apartment. Neither of them slept, and neither of them gave up—until the third day at dawn when he entered her room and found her awake, trying to read to overcome her fury.
He put his arms around her and she could not oppose him for an instant. The passion they shared till daylight released their bodies and minds, and exhaustion left no room for arguing. He confessed his fears of seeing Georgiana unhappy; she kissed his worries away with tender lips and comforted him with soft whispers and passionate care.
She eventually won the little war, and Lord Surrey was allowed into their home, but from that moment, eager to protect her husband and sister-in-law from harm, Elizabeth became the earl’s severest critic. She studied his every glance, word, and gesture towards Georgiana and every other lady with whom they were in company, demanding assurance and proofs of his sincere affection.
The couple married three years ago—after a twelve-month engagement—and had a blissful marriage, fulfilled by the birth of their daughter.
Cheerful voices outside interrupted Elizabeth musings. She went to the window, smiling at the image of joy spread in the backyard of Pemberley. Children frolicked along the paths at the edge of the lake, carefully guarded by governesses and parents.
Her birthday was always a time of celebration—Darcy insisted on that. And now that she was turning thirty, even Pemberley was crowded with their friends and families—all with their children: Georgiana and her husband, her parents, her sisters, even Lydia with her two sons, as her husband was kept with his regiment. Then the Gardiners, the Matlocks, the Bingley sisters with their husbands—some enjoying the lovely weather outside, others taking advantage of an excellent drink inside the house.
From the garden, Darcy observed her at the window and pointed her to her for Robert and Cassandra. The children cheered and waved to her, and she responded with all the joy that filled her heart. Then—as she expected—she saw her husband instructing the children and their governess then stepping decidedly towards the entrance.
Just as ten years earlier, the thought of having him near her soon caused her heartbeat to race. She glanced at her image in the mirror; she was still in her nightgown with her hair falling loose.
She expected the knock on the door but still startled. Darcy entered; his eyes and lips smiled at her together, and her skin shivered.
“Good morning,” his dear, husky voice said. The maid quickly bowed and left. He stepped closer to Elizabeth and took her hands in his, covering them with soft kisses.
“Maud is still frightened of me?” he asked with amusement.
“Not at all; but she is wise enough to know that, when you enter my chamber, she is not needed any longer.”
“Wise indeed. I hope you need no one else when I enter your room, Mrs. Darcy.”
“I have needed no one else since the day you entered my life ten years ago, Mr. Darcy.”
His face lit with delight, and his thumb caressed her chin, brushing the corner of her mouth. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted, welcoming his intoxicating taste.
“We are expected downstairs, and I am already late,” she whispered against the sweet assault of passionate kisses.
“Indeed we are…” he admitted.
“And the party for the tenants will start in a few hours,” she continued to oppose weakly.
“True…should I call Maud back?”
“No…not yet,” she replied. “The roses are beautiful. Did I thank you for them?”
“I told you many years ago that I do not wish your thanks, Mrs. Darcy. I just want to know they pleased you.”
“You know they do. You know perfectly well what pleases me, Mr. Darcy. But I hope you have learned by now that nothing makes me happier than your presence.”
He stopped and looked at her, earnestly and intently.
“My darling Elizabeth, being near you is a privilege for which I am grateful every day. You gave meaning and bliss to my life with your affection, your support, and your kindness—and enhanced it with our beautiful children. I hope you have learned that by now.”
“I have,” she said, smiling and caressing his face tenderly.
“Then I shall leave you now; my selfishness interferes, but I must share you with our guests today. I can only pray for the night to come sooner.”
“I have rarely seen a less selfish man than you, Mr. Darcy. But yes, you should leave now; staying even a moment longer would put both of us in danger of ruining the party you so carefully arranged.”
He kissed her hands and hurried to the d
oor then returned, a slight frown on his face.
“I forgot to inquire. How are you feeling since you turned thirty, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth?”
She replied instantly. “I feel exactly as I have the last ten years, my dearest, handsome husband. Ardently loved.”
THE END!
