The Passions of Dr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  “Your turn.”

  She smiled, this one pure lust, and walked to him—the short space taking an incredibly long time to George’s reckoning—undulating her hips with each step and never losing contact with his eyes. Proving that she had arts of seduction at her disposal despite the revelations of several minutes earlier, Jharna tortured him by unraveling the sari with painstaking slowness. The kurta followed the path to the floor only after teasing his chest and back with hands gifted with magical powers. At that point, George lost the battle of remaining passive. They did not rush or unleash the growling animalistic passion quite yet, but they did relent to the demand for more.

  First he removed the combs holding the thick, twisted sections of her hair. The scent of jasmine tickled his nostrils as the heavy plaits fell to below her waist, the sweet aroma increasing when he unraveled each portion and fluffed the silky strands between his fingers. Jharna shook her head, the cascading blanket of amber-highlighted black hair floating around her face and bouncing against her back. Fisting large clumps in both hands, George pressed his face into the mass, inhaling deeply and rubbing the sleek tresses over his whiskers. The tactile contrast was electrifying and George gave in to the thrill of it. Kissing through the sheet of hair tumbling over her neck, he made his way gradually to her mouth, claiming and plunging deep. Possessively he thrust his tongue inside, meeting her with each rhythmic stroke, moans mixing with their sharp breathing.

  God! He had never known such ecstasy! It was a struggle to restrain the beast inside. With an effort he pulled away from her lips, his hands still balled at the nape of her neck with tangles of hair twined around his fingers. Raggedly breathing, George rested his forehead on hers, eyes closed for a second before opening to discover he had a stunning view of her round breasts and aroused nipples straining against the confinement of her choli. It was as if they begged for freedom and the pleasure of his touch.

  More than happy to comply, George doffed her choli with minimal fanfare and immediately delved into the lush fullness with greedy hands and mouth. Jharna arched against him, harshly clutching his head to her chest and crying loudly at each tease of his tongue and nip of his teeth. It became a sort of dance. Moments of tenderness tempered the rhythm and softened the caresses, followed by aggressive attacks. Intervals of creating gaps between their bodies so they could appreciate the visual enticements flowed into intervals when they succumbed to the tactile. It seemed to last a very long time, but George later suspected that the time they spent kissing and embracing in the middle of the room wasn’t lengthy at all.

  He wasn’t sure when he became aware of the bed’s location and wondered if it might have merely been blind luck, but when Jharna finally slipped his pants down his legs and stroked one hand firmly over his hardness from head to hilt, murmuring, “Indeed you are full of surprises, priya!” he growled and picked her up into his arms. The beast was unleashed and they knew it. A second later, he had her spread on the cool sheets with his entire body hot and taut as it crushed her into the downy mattress. If she had not still been wearing the skirt, he would have entered her instantly and after releasing a wail of frustration was thankful the garment had somehow not been removed. Probably because he was too busy at her breasts, a pleasant diversion he did not regret one iota. As annoying as it was to be stymied in his quest to be inside her, George did not wish to rush their lovemaking. The thought of her exquisite breasts provided a stabilizing focal point and impelled him to straighten his arms and lift up from her body.

  “Oh god, Jharna!” he choked when able to speak. “You are magnificent! Sublime. I ache to possess you, to make you mine wholly, and in a way you will never forget.” He ran his fingertips delicately across the sharp ridges of her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, and onward until dipping into the well of her navel, his husky voice continuing, “I want to brand myself upon your skin, so deeply that I live inside you, breathing with you and beating with your heart. I want to love you as I have never loved another, giving pleasure and giving of my soul.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He looked up at her eyes. The teasing glint he knew so well was there, laced with heaps of love and passion. While he paused to absorb the emotions pouring from her gaze, Jharna wiggled out of her skirt and kicked it away.

  She was bared to him completely. Voracious eyes examined her head to toe, burning a trail over her dusky-hued skin and missing nothing. Not the parted lips gasping for air. Not the fluttering pulse in the notch of her throat. Not the puckered nipples still wet from his kisses. Not the impatient squirms of her body. Not the tight muscles of her belly quivering in anticipation. He missed nothing, including that she was examining his body as fully. He knew precisely how she felt as her gaze started a fire, racing over his hair-scattered chest, muscular arms and thighs, solid abdomen, and groin, the latter throbbing with need and growing unbearably harder by the second. The weak thread restraining the ravenous beast snapped when Jharna lifted one sinewy leg, sliding it over his calf until it wrapped around his waist, with her heel and toes teasing his rump.

  “No waiting, priya.”

  After that, he didn’t. He took his time, burying himself within her welcoming depths gradually and then moving with deliberate strokes designed to heighten and prolong the fervor. No rush. Clarity and control worked in tandem with hazy rapture and wildness. George would remember every touch, every sensation, and every move vividly. Time stretched, and each second was counted as he soared through heaven in unison with the woman he loved. But time, after all, was uncountable when soaring through heaven in unison with the woman you love.

  Sleep did not touch either of them during that blissfully long night. It was too special to waste on the oblivion of sleep. Most of the time was passed in the wide bed—a massive piece of ornately carved and painted furniture draped with crimson gauze and piled with colorfully embroidered pillows, George eventually noted—but not exclusively. They did move to the veranda at one point, lying on cushioned mats spread over the hard stone with moonlight as the only illumination.

  “You laid these here specifically for us tonight, didn’t you?” George was propped on one elbow and leaning over her supine figure, the other hand tracing a cluster of grapes along the flickering shapes of light dancing across her thighs.

  “Of course. I would not want your back to suffer from rough scraping on rock.”

  “My back?”

  “Yes. Your back.” And in one lissome movement Jharna lifted up and pushed him backward, rescued the grapes from his surprised grip, and straddled his thighs. George’s chuckle turned into moans of pleasure as Jharna cleverly utilized the grapes in sensual play. Few words were spoken for a while, unless one counted shouted names and one-syllable exclamations.

  “When did you fall in love with me?”

  His warm breath wafted across her shoulder, Jharna shivering. She drew his head away from her neck, engaging his eyes and toying with the wavy hair sweeping across his brow.

  “I have always loved you, George.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.”

  “I know. I am uncertain I can answer. I am not sure that the beginning wasn’t long, long ago. Your friendship has been precious to me, mitra.” She used the term for dear friend that had slipped into their conversation during their travels together years prior, but the tender caress along his cheek and lips expressed the deeper intimacy they now shared. “But especially these past two years. I have come to rely upon your presence, to desire your visits as if a special holiday yearned for. We all did, so I thought my feelings no different than the boys. I know now I was falling in love with you well before I recognized the emotion. The day I first recognized a physical response to you and could no longer remain blind to it was that day last autumn, when you were so blatantly flirting with Indira.”

  “I was not!” But the denial was accompanied by laughter, George remembering the da
y, and although it had meant nothing serious to him at the time, he couldn’t argue that he had been pouring on the charm.

  “Oh, you most certainly were! You are a rogue, George Darcy. Do you know that? Women should beware!”

  “Henceforth, all women shall be safe because my roguish days are past. Except with you in your chambers where I intend to be an absolute scoundrel as often as I can until you cry out with elation.” He accented his threat with a well-placed probe, Jharna gasping and squeezing her thighs tight to still his magical fingers.

  “Do you want me to answer the question or give in to your current proposal?”

  “That is not a fair choice.” He frowned mockingly. “I say both. Continue please”—he nudged her legs apart and commenced a lazy series of intimate strokes—“with the part about how you were jealous and wanted my manhood all for yourself.”

  “Arrogant and a rogue! I hardly said that, but will admit that I did not like the idea of Indira being with you, although it was none of my business who you bedded.”

  “For the record, Jharna, I have bedded no one for well over a year. Closer to two.”

  She looked genuinely shocked. “Why?”

  “Initially because of my work, to be honest. There simply wasn’t the time and I have never been as casual about my relationships as some, despite how it may appear.”

  “No, I know that is true. All jesting aside, you are not a rogue, my George.”

  He smiled and leaned to kiss her, taking his time and continuing the stimulating motions of his fingers. “I love when you say I am yours, Jharna. I have wanted to be yours for months.”

  “When did you fall in love with me, priya?” Her heavy-lidded eyes were alight with arousal but also curiosity.

  “I cannot answer precisely either. I too have always loved you, Jharna, and think the greater feelings snuck up on me. I can tell you that when I flirted with Indira, it was in part to deny how I felt for you and in part because I knew you were watching. I wanted to make you jealous. I had visions of you storming into my room in a rage. The dreams of how we would make love were vividly spectacular.”

  “More spectacular than this?” She curved and thrust her hips to meet the increasingly deeper drives of his long fingers.

  “The reality is always better, love. And we are only beginning.”

  Increasing the tempo and pressure, George trailed wet, hot kisses down her neck and chest until reaching her breasts. Instantly she arched into him, her whole body straining to feel more of him. Giving her what she sought, George played the game of love skillfully, drawing out the inevitable until he knew she could take no more. Only then did he release her nipple with a long tug, his eyes lifted to her face as she reached her peak with a scream and convulsive clenches around his moving fingers.

  Sweet Lord! In her rapture she is transcendently beautiful! So glorious that he nearly lost control and spilled where he slid against her inner thigh. Gritting his teeth he rapidly shifted. Removing his fingers, he grasped each wrist, raising her arms over her head and stretching fully with all his weight on her, and with one swift impale, filled where his fingers had been. The still-contracting muscles squeezing the new, much bigger intrusion, pulling and welcoming. Jharna whimpered, bucking upward to encourage his wild thrusts, crazed as they had not yet been the two times before, with lunge after ferocious lunge driving waves of piercing pleasure head to toe. No kissing or caressing. Eyes closed and senses zeroed to where they merged, neither thought coherently. They only felt the building ecstasy radiating outward until the cresting wave broke, the shattering euphoria unmatched.

  George rolled away to gulp lungfuls of oxygen. He knew his heart was strong, thankfully, because the way it was pounding inside his chest might have been alarming otherwise. It was difficult to hear over the blood surging through the veins in his ears and the harsh gasps escaping his open mouth, but he dimly heard Jharna’s labored respirations. Her trembling hand was loosely clasped in his, perspiration slick where their skin met. Taken as a whole, it was immensely gratifying! It was a matter of pride to a man to be able to satisfy his woman. At least George felt that way. He turned his head, one look assuring him that Jharna was miles beyond merely being satisfied. For several minutes he stared at her profile and soaked in the myriad details that revealed how lost she was to the joyous pleasure they had shared. Finally she opened her eyes, sightlessly gazing at the ceiling for a while before turning toward him. The smile that lit her face was indescribable.

  “Do you have any idea how much I love you, Jharna?”

  “As much as I love you, George.”

  “I am never letting you go, you know.”

  “I would not let you, priya.”

  He brought her hand to his lips, chuckling as he pressed light kisses. “We sound like giddy youths spouting bad poetry.”

  “Bad or well written, the sentiments are valid.”

  They were still and silent for a time, eyes glued to each other and communicating a wealth of emotions and thoughts. George broke the silence first. “So what happens now?”

  “Probably we should sleep. Dawn is less than two hours away.”

  “That isn’t what I meant.” He knew she understood his question and nipped at her inner wrist for teasing him.

  “You worry too much, priya. Trust your god as I trust mine. Our paths are now merged, as was fated to be. Our hearts beat in unison. We have no choice but to walk forward together.”

  George smiled and nodded. Then he rolled back to her and cupped her face. The kiss was tender and long. Their passion was momentarily spent, giving them the opportunity to sweetly delight in the beauty of a kiss between joined souls. Eventually he broke away, rolling again onto his back but bringing her with him. She burrowed close to his side and nestled her head on his shoulder. With arms surrounding each other, they succumbed to satiated exhaustion. With a last kiss to her brow, George closed his eyes, murmuring before sleep took him, “I am yours forever, Jharna, and am never letting you go.”

  George’s Memoirs

  October 3, 1804

  It is official, Father. Five days ago I signed and filed my last document as Deputy Surgeon-General of the Bombay Confederacy and handed over the keys to Dr. Perry, so to speak. I never stayed in one place long enough to need physical keys. I didn’t expect to weep and wail but thought it might sting a wee bit to be stripped of my authority and revert to being plain Dr. Darcy. You know me too well, Father, so I won’t pretend I didn’t relish the attention all these years! I prefer to believe that is an inherited trait as a Darcy, rather than a manifestation of my inflated vanity. Remind me not to ask James’s opinion. I know how he would vote! Whether conceit or an inborn characteristic, I did flourish in the position, surprising myself, and we both know that is a rare occurrence!

  Ah, Father, I wish you were alive to meet my lovely Jharna. Ten minutes in her presence would erase any disapproval at our relationship. She is my joy and light. I am a better person because of her. I know those are rather inane statements and at one time would have sent me into hysterical laughter, yet they are true. I am lighthearted more than I already was which is, I admit, frightening. I never comprehended how having a worthy woman who loves you and a family who depends upon you alters your outlook of the world. It alters you inside as well. Profoundly. I am skilled at verbal medical explanations but cannot place into comprehensible words how this love feels. The desire to share my life with her is a magnetic yearning. I hunger for her in the primal ways a man hungers for the woman he loves. That alone is intense. However, it is more than our physical intimacy that is astounding and powerful. I long to discover how much stronger all the facets of our relationship will become as the years pass and we live together for longer than days at a time. Stolen days every month or two is intolerable, but I am often too busy to dwell upon my misery. I know it has been far worse for Jharna. She maintains her serenity, outwardly accepti
ng the dictates of fate. She almost fools me. Then I see her face at unguarded moments and know she is suffering as acutely as me. This is complimentary and a nice boost to the ego that needs no boosting. That selfishness aside, I don’t like knowing she is sad, especially because of me.

  Jharna worries that I will miss the excitement. Bah! My proficiency and appreciation for the job is all well and fine, but what I cannot convince her of is that I am sick of patching up sword and gunshot wounds and treating dysentery. I am done with living in tents and sleeping on hard mats. I won’t mention the food or will embark on a rant that will fill this new book to the final page. I can no longer muster the energy to pretend I care about EIC policies or Maratha intrigues, let alone keep track of the particulars or latest treaty. The bulk of the time I forget what faction we are fighting and which soldiers are wheeling through my hospital. Perhaps I am feeling the need to be pampered. Can you blame me? Sleeping in Jharna’s bed with her body draped over me is vastly preferred to this! Her bathing chamber alone would tempt the most devout monk to renounce his vows. I am certainly not a monk. What I am is a relatively normal man of thirty-seven who knows exactly what he wants at this time of his life.

  And what is that you ask? Glad you did, Father! As hinted above, I am weary of battle wounds despite all that I have accomplished. I have learned more about how to treat penetrating injuries and amputation than I ever imagined I would. My skills as a surgeon have increased fiftyfold at least. When devastating trauma and imminent death are the usual business, a doctor has the freedom and obligation to experiment. I have perfected the art of resetting broken bones, even a few that were compound, so that amputation was not required. I am proud of that, to be honest. Statistically I am at 50% for thoracotomy working to relieve crushing chest wounds and the drainage system we have been using is effective. Head injury is the worst, and I have decided neurosurgery is not my forte, but I have improved and seen more positive outcomes. Infection and the resultant death thereof remain major sequelae, but we have discovered certain techniques and herbals that do wonders. Viewing so many bodies in varying states of dismemberment and dissection does provide the benefit of comprehending anatomy and physiology more than I ever have. So while all of that is the upside, the cost of witnessing suffering and death on a massive scale has soured the enthusiasm. I pray that will change once I am able to apply my advanced expertise in a more controlled environment. That will be the hospital in Junnar and caring for the locals as they call for me. This sounds like pure heaven. I can live with my family, love Jharna as she deserves, and ply my trade in a leisurely manner. Of course, “leisurely” isn’t exactly a word one would ever use to describe me, at least not for long, so I only mean in comparison.