by J L Pearl
“Yes?” she called softly.
“Elizabeth,” he said.
His voice was like music. It was deeper and richer than she had heard it before, suffused as it was with the weight and intimacy of the night. Her heart threatened to burst free, so loudly did it beat. She forced herself to take a deep breath.
“What do you want?” she said?
“I…” He paused, sounding unsure. What could he possibly want? “I only wanted… forgive me, Elizabeth. You were sleeping. I will leave you be.”
The floor creaked again, the sound of Mr. Darcy moving down the hallway. He moved slowly but steadily away, giving her space. Elizabeth glanced back at her bed, realizing she would never sleep tonight. Instead she opened the door.
“Yes?” she called. He turned to face her. His eyes darted down her form and back, just for an instant, before he composed himself and bowed at the neck.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I did not mean to discomfort you. I am only… I am mindful of how strange the day has been, and I have something I wish to say. It can certainly wait till morning if you are sleeping.”
She gestured to herself standing in the hallway. “Clearly I am not. What is it you wish to say?” She watched him gather his thoughts, standing, still in his dinner dress, in the middle of the hall, and reconsidered. “Come,” she said, stepping back into her chambers. “This is ridiculous. We are wed now; surely we can be alone in a room together at this point.”
“I suppose that is true,” he said, an undercurrent of humor in his voice. They sat together on the edge of the bed with some distance between them. He turned to face her. “Elizabeth,” he said again. She met his eyes.
She met him.
A thrill like nothing she had ever known shot through her body. Whatever stock of a man could be taken through his eyes, she read it as nothing but beautiful. How could this be? He had shown himself already to be a proud man, an unkind man. She put that thought away, reminding herself they were married now. She would endeavor to hear him out with an open mind.
“I fear I owe you a tremendous apology,” he began, “for forcing you to marry me against your will. I have no reason to believe your entered into this union for any reason other than the preservation of your reputation and your family’s prospects, and I am sensible to those concerns. I pray you will not find me too much a burden as your husband.”
She blushed a little at hearing the truth so bluntly, but what could she say? Yes, they were trapped, the both of them. “Perhaps it is I who should apologize to you,” she said. “I know you were every bit as forced to follow through as I was, if you valued your own reputation in the slightest. And your own prospects have surely… suffered as a result.”
He frowned. Because he agreed? She turned away. He surprised her by placing a hand on her arm. A warm hand, placed gently, not to correct, but simply to comfort. “No, Elizabeth,” he whispered, “please never think that.”
“You cannot deny it and be honest. You were meant to marry a great lady, surely, and double the size of land and inheritance, and provide a great legacy for your children.” She looked at him again to find him smiling at her.
“Oh, Elizabeth. If I could only make you see. If you would but love me, I would have provided them with the greatest legacy of all.”
Her heart sped and her mouth ran dry. She licked her lips. “Love you?”
“I know this is all very odd, and I will not rush you. Take whatever time you need, whatever you want, Elizabeth. But know this: I did not marry solely to save face, though I confess that was the catalyst. I married you because I love you.”
5
___
Elizabeth blinked.
The words flashed through her mind to ask: “you love me?” but before she could form them, she found there was something entirely different she wanted to do. And, being a lively young woman, she abandoned her usually rational train of thought and acted on impulse.
She kissed him.
She pulled away and now he blinked. “I… uh… I…”
She smiled and laughed softly. She had never seen him lose his composure, not even when he had been forced to propose. When he was still unable to string more than two or three words together after a few seconds, she said, “have I done something wrong?”
He smiled and shook his head, then kissed her.
This kiss was very different. Now it was full of intention, and passion, and longing. She met it with her own, their desire rising together and comingling. When they pulled apart again they were both breathless.
“Husband,” she said, “I believe we have yet to consummate this marriage.”
His breath grew shallow and ragged as he stood and pulled her close to himself. “Wife,” he murmured, “I believe you are right.”
His arms. They enveloped her, pulling her into himself. She lost her senses in the scent of him, the warmth radiating from his body. His darkness. Their mouths met again and again, finding new ways to tell one another they loved one another without words. Then she pulled away just far enough to begin pulling the buttons of his shirt apart. He, grunting, fumbled with her nightgown, until finally she grabbed the front of it and tore it open, revealing herself to him. He pulled it down over her shoulders and she removed his shirt altogether. When their bodies came together once more, it was flesh against flesh, warm skin against warm skin, filling Elizabeth with heat and lust.
Then he was on his knees, pulling her body to his face, pressing kiss after kiss against her neck, her breasts, her belly. She writhed with pleasure, feeling a man’s mouth on her tender skin for the first time. His tongue flicked across her nipples, sending shivers down her spine and through her legs, and warming her between them. “I want you,” she groaned.
“You shall have me,” he growled, picking her up. She gasped with surprise and laughed as he plopped her onto her back on the bed. Then he was tearing the rest of her garments away, until she lay naked as they day she was born, spread for him. His eyes, full of desire, never left hers as he took his trousers off.
He pressed against her, throbbing. Her breath caught in her throat.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
She shook her head, though it did, a little. “No. Don’t stop.”
He pressed again and she gasped as she took him inside herself. There was pain, yes, but he was gentle and kind, and she grew accustomed to the feeling. Not enough to find it dull, certainly not! But enough that it could go on. And so on it went. Soon he was thrusting slowly, gliding in and out of her with nuanced rhythm. Their eyes locked and she smiled, delighting in the sight of him delighting in her. Sweat graced his noble brow, and his muscles strained with effort as he held himself up over her, entering her again and again. She reached down and pulled him into herself, her hands draping over his lower back. What a beautiful lower back it was, all lean and strong and full of vitality.
“Faster,” she whispered.
“Faster?”
“Faster!” she groaned.
He grew urgent. He thrust and pumped with renewed vigor, leaving her breathless, making her arch her back and claw at the bedding around them, so intense had the pleasure grown. There needed to be some release, some ineffable finish line she could not yet imagine, but sensed they were drawing near. And then it happened. Wave upon wave of pleasure racked her body and she quivered beneath him, shaking and moaning like an animal. He pressed himself deeply into her and cried out without words, and she felt him explode inside of her.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy!” she yelled.
“Elizabeth!”
For some time later they lay, side by side, on the bed, staring at the moonlit ceiling, saying nothing. They simply enjoyed the afterglow together. Then, when her breathing had returned to normal and her mind had slowed down, Elizabeth rolled to face him.
“Do you really love me?” she asked him. He turned to face her, too, and his eyes widened a little with surprise.
“You doubt me?”
She smiled wryly. “Co
me now, admit, Mr. Darcy. Ours is not a conventional tale of romance.”
He returned her smile and pulled her close to himself. She basked in the warmth of his skin, loving every instant in his arms. “I do,” he said. “I will always love you, Elizabeth. I have known this, in truth, since the day we met.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Since the Meryton assembly? When you refused to dance with me?”
“I refused out of fear. Fear of my own happiness, I think, since it seemed to go against everything the world had told me about who to love. Silly and prejudiced, I know, and I am sorry, my love. I have learned. And then there was the fear that… well, that you might not love me in return.”
She scoffed, but then she saw he was in earnest. She loved that about him. “I admit I, too, was mistaken about many things, and that I misjudged you at first. But had I known you in truth, had I taken an accurate estimation of your character, I cannot see how I could have elt anything but love for you. I will always love you, Mr. Darcy,” she said, pulling him to herself and kissing him softly on the lips.
“And I you,” he whispered.
“Now and forever.”
THE END.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
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Thank you, dear reader, for joining Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth for this fun little romp! If you enjoyed what you read, please consider leaving a review. And feel free to follow me on Amazon for new steamy Austen-inspired stories! If you love Darcy as much as I do, you’re in for a whole bag of treats.
-JL Pearl
