The Passions of Dr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  Once I was alone with Jharna, I dug in deep. I had to be sure she wasn’t sacrificing for me. Honest to God, Father, I am not unhappy in Junnar! How could I be? I love my life with Jharna and the boys and love my work at the hospital. It is more than I have ever dreamed of. She insisted that her desire to roam was real and I know her well enough to know when she is lying. She wasn’t in this. Her heart was sincere and I admit that surprised me. I never knew how much she enjoyed moving around with Kshitij, assuming she did so as an obedient wife rather than with her own hunger to experience new places. After all this time, I am yet learning new facets of this incredible woman God has gifted me! She did add as proof that we should accept the offer that, “Your eyes were glowing and lit up brighter than a flame.” Nicely poetic I suppose, but I am a physician and can assert with confidence that both of these are physically impossible! They may have sparkled a bit, I’ll concede that point, especially when Nimesh said they would be spending time with Moammad Šarif Khan. Now THAT is an opportunity I can honestly say I would hate to miss!

  So now we are up to our eyeballs with packing and preparing for a lengthy absence from the house in Junnar. Gita and the others will remain, of course. Jharna has insisted on new clothing for everyone. I wish I could argue that as a necessity, but alas, I am apparently too like a woman in that regard, as Jharna teases. Merchants are flooding through the gates all day. Crazy! The Sardar has sent a handful of soldiers to add to the escort. I am not sure that was vital now that the British have control of the area and we are part of the medical contingency, but when it comes to the safety of Jharna, I am as rabid as her father. Sasi is beside himself with glee. He cannot stop talking about the Agra Fort, Taj Mahal, and so on that he can explore. He is 16 now and as enamored with ancient history as ever.

  So there you have it. And, yes, I will finally confess that while not looking for it, I am thrilled beyond words. Dr. George Darcy is on the move! Again!

  Chapter Ten

  Agra

  January 1807

  When did the simple act of waking in the morning become so exciting?

  Sun filtered through the curtains shielding the latched windows. Peeking with a half-opened eye George ascertained that the light was undimmed by clouds which boded well for the day being warmer. Since the onset of winter in Agra, he had come to realize how thin his British blood was after dwelling in the year-round tropical climates of midland and southern India. In the north, with the Himalayas two hundred miles away, the cold of winter hit hard and was a sharp contrast to the heat of the summer they had enjoyed. It was not anywhere close to the chill of a winter day in England, but a shock to the system they were learning to cope with.

  His favorite way to cope was to languish abed under a pile of blankets with Jharna’s warm body curled in his arms or draped across his chest. Either position was fine by him, and since she suffered from the extreme cold worse than he, cuddling to leech from his internal furnace was a constant. Rarely did either of them have early appointments or duties to attend to now that they were for all intents on holiday in Agra. George was discovering the joy in freedom from intense activity, especially the pleasure of sleeping until well after sunrise.

  They had left Junnar the prior May, the initial weeks weaving north through Sindhia, Holkar, and Rajpootana before veering east for Delhi. Three months they lived in historic Delhi, Sasi busy exploring places of historical significance while George and Jharna settled into a life of relaxation. He worked with the Yunani physicians in the city, accompanying Nimesh most days if not choosing to indulge in a different activity with Jharna. Additionally, he joined the doctors for two short jaunts to villages nearby and gave a series of lectures to the British medical corps stationed at the expanding complexes attached to the Red Fort of the Mughals.

  Before the cold of winter, they relocated to Agra, settling into a fashionable, new house built by the English. Anticipating a longer stay, George selected a house comfortable and modern that was located in an area with a healthy mix of foreign and native residents. Thus far in their time together, he and Jharna had encountered little difficulty as a cross-cultural family. His fluency in Hindi and several other dialects, coupled with his ease with the customs, ethnic attire, darker hair, and tanned skin, allowed him to blend in easier than the average foreigner. Only his startlingly blue eyes gave him away, but most Indians shrugged that off as an anomaly. Besides, Englishmen were crawling all over the place since gaining control in 1803. Nor did most care that he lived with an Indian woman or vice versa, pairings of this nature common enough to raise few eyebrows. George was utterly indifferent to what anyone thought of his relationship with Jharna, but he preferred to avoid any controversy or gossip for the sake of Jharna and Sasi. In Agra, they were merely another family among the populous.

  George didn’t bother glancing at the clock. By the minor rumblings in his stomach, he knew it was midmorning, which meant they had slept for eight hours more or less, so he could wake Jharna without feeling too guilty about it. No need to rush into that either, however.

  Jharna was lying on her back with one shoulder propped against his chest and her shapely rear resting on his inner thigh. Blankets covered their bodies so that he could only see her relaxed face and raven hair tumbling thickly over her neck, the pillow they shared, and his upper arm. A minuscule shift and George was able to reach the side of her face closest to him, his lips skimming lazy kisses along the sweet curves from ear to neck. Identical gentle caresses of his hand occurred unseen under the blankets from delicate shoulder blade to thigh. Waking Jharna incrementally and undemandingly was the wisest course at the best of times, George having discovered early in their relationship that while she tended to rise earlier than he in the morning, she did so grumpily. If he desired morning loving, or even rational conversation for that matter, waiting an hour or so was the only way it was going to happen.

  This day was special, however, so he hoped for success in starting with a pleasant interlude under the sheets before embarking on the planned agenda of fun.

  Jharna stirred under his leisurely assault. “You think because today is special you can wake me and not suffer the repercussions?”

  Her morning voice was sultry, the husky tones increasing his shivers of promised pleasure. George smiled into her hair. The sentence was uttered with a tint of irritation, but the teasing overruled, as did the backward press of her rear into his thigh and playful glide of one foot up his leg.

  “It is my birthday, a momentous one at that. Would you be unkind to me today of all days? Especially when I intend to bring you pleasure unmatched?”

  “Unmatched? Now that is a promise you may be hard pressed to uphold. I have known spectacular pleasure in your embrace, priya. Has something magical occurred now that you are forty to create a lover of unparalleled proportions? Have you learned a new technique?”

  Jharna turned her head and gazed at him with sleepy but mischievous eyes. Better yet, there was a gleam of hunger within the dark depths that took his breath away. Seconds later, when she cupped his groin through the fabric of his paijamas and slid a firm palm along the length of his arousal, he exhaled in a gush. The corners of her mouth curled upward, smugness dancing over the surface of each rosy lip. Passionate desire bathed her entire countenance and was felt in the sinuous wiggle of her body against his.

  Taken all together, George was happily stunned. Jharna was a passionate lover, receptive and incredibly skilled. The physical relationship they shared was beyond his wildest dreams not only in how intense the sensations when they made love, but also in the level of spiritual affinity. With Jharna, there was a pure form of love that had only grown over their years of living with each other. She was his wife in every way except legally, as far as he was concerned, and although he still desired her to be his in that way as well, to wear the name Darcy, he now understood what it fully meant to be committed to one woman and he adored everything about it. From th
e physical to the spiritual to the day-to-day realities of life, they were a union of two souls.

  “Perhaps I have learned new techniques.” He lifted one brow and grinned cockily. “Or perhaps I am simply determined to prove that your forty-year-old mate can perform better than ever, loving you thoroughly until heaven is reached and you are delirious from the overwhelming pleasure is my gift to you.” He leaned in and bestowed a consuming kiss teeming with evidence that this was a promise he could and would fulfill. When he pulled away, Jharna was panting and had turned fully toward him, a soft moan escaping when he broke off the kiss. “But first,” he continued as if nothing had interrupted the discussion, “I want to talk about your gift for me.”

  “You can’t seriously want to leave our bed now to see your present?”

  George chuckled at the returned tone of irritation. “I have no intention of letting you out of this bed, my dear, until I have tasted of your succulent flesh and shown you what I am capable of. A promise is a promise and I am a man of my word.” He smoothed one hand up her thigh and underneath the gown, gliding slowly over her rounded buttocks and up her spine before traveling along the curve of her rib cage, fingertips brushing the underside of her heavy breasts as he completed the circle down her torso to the soft mound of her belly. “The only gift I truly desire is you, Jharna, now and forever, and what you have hidden away here.”

  Gently, he palmed the tiny bulge below her navel, his broad hand cradling the area. He was looking straight into her eyes so did not miss the brief flash of reserve amid the shining happiness and heightened ardor. He reassured her with a delicate kiss to her lips, his voice weighted with joy and confidence.

  “Oh, my sweet love! I know you are superstitious. You believe talking about this baby is ill luck after losing our other last year. I know you have hesitated to tell me, as if I could not detect the signs weeks ago. You forget I am a physician, and how intimately familiar I am with your luscious body.” He accented his tease with a perfectly placed tweak at the juncture of leg and hip, Jharna twitching automatically at the tickling. “See?” He laughed, pleased at the responding smile and retreating anxiety in her eyes. “I know you carry our baby and that you are well into the second trimester. I can almost feel the flutters deep within you. You can feel them too, can’t you? Yes, I thought so. I have seen the expressions cross your face, my love. Already you are past when the other miscarried, so I am confident all is well this time. Either way, however, we must share this together. And since it is my birthday, you must grant me whatever I want!”

  His arrogant grin and arched brow did not have the effect he hoped.

  Jharna shook her head and laid one hand against his cheek. “I haven’t meant to keep secrets from you, George.”

  “I know. And I understand why you wanted to wait, Jharna. I am not angry, not in the least.” He kissed her palm and drew her closer to his body. “But aside from wanting to rejoice with you and share our blessed news with Nimesh and Sasi, I could not permit you to linger in a state of denial or false forebodings. That is not healthy for you or the baby.”

  “I want to give you a child with all my heart, priya.” Jharna’s eyes clouded with tears and her lower lip began to tremble. “It pains me that I have failed and I fear—”

  “Shhh,” he soothed, brushing the moisture from her cheek. “You have failed at nothing, sweet. And if I did not know for certain you were pregnant before, I would now. One minute burning with desire and a hairbreadth from ravishing me and the next in tears. I predict next you will say you need to visit the privy. Ha! I knew it!” He laughed harder as Jharna slithered out of bed and dashed away without a backward glance.

  Flopping back onto the pillows, George crossed his arms over his head and waited. The elated smile splitting his face was felt down to his toes. Naturally he had hoped the result of their liaison would be a child. Being a father wasn’t a prospect George spared considerable thought for while still a single man, and even after falling in love with Jharna, he tended to focus on the thrill of their relationship rather than immediately wishing for more. Finding her and being with her was a dream brought to reality. Anything above that was more than he cared to tempt fate over. Yes, he too had his superstitions!

  Then, shortly after his return from England, she conceived. The signs were evident early on, mere weeks after, yet before either had time to glory in their boundless excitement, Jharna miscarried. It happened so quickly, the rapid high of happiness followed by the swift blow of sadness. Physically Jharna recovered speedily. Emotionally the impact was bitter. It was at that time George learned Jharna had lost one other baby, that miscarriage happening after Nimesh. He pointed out that women miscarry often, probably a sign that something is wrong with the baby, and since she had later successfully carried Sasi, it was unlikely the problem was with her. Of course Kshitij had told her the same. On the other hand, as she pointed out in returned logic, she had never conceived after Sasi, with Kshitij or with George for nearly two years, and at thirty-seven she was no longer young. She added the pieces up as a divine message that she was not destined to have another child. Despite her attempts to accept this interpretation, she was devastated. George devoted all his energy toward convincing her that he was content with their life, which was true, and that while having a baby together would be wonderful, it was not of the utmost importance to him. This was also true.

  A year had passed since that difficult period. Then, over a month ago, he had seen the subtle hints that Jharna may be pregnant. Empathizing with her feelings, he buried his jubilation and waited for her to tell him when she was ready. Last night when they had made love, he had distinctly felt the firm bulge of her belly and faint quivers against his abdomen. He yearned to launch from the bed and dance a jig, no longer capable of waiting to shout his joy.

  “I am going to be a father.”

  He whispered it into the air, rolling the words across his tongue. His heart began to pound. When Jharna had conceived before, he had said the words and he remembered how his spirit had leapt at the idea. Sadly the full joy never penetrated completely.

  “I am going to be a father.”

  Spoken louder this time and followed by a broader smile. Everything about this pregnancy felt different. For a month, he had silently watched the woman he adored more than life blossom as the precious life within her grew. She was grumpier in the morning, but not ill. She tired quicker and slept longer, but radiated health and energy in between. Traces of fear edged her demeanor, but an uninhibited optimism that she could not squelch shone through.

  “I am going to be a father.”

  Conviction imbued the sentence. For too long he had denied his wish to be a father, appeasing the longing as chacha-jee to the Ullas boys. He too had experienced the pain of Jharna’s miscarriage, hesitating to trust and believe this time would be different. There were never any guarantees, but so far all was well and that was enough to allow him to release the full extent of his euphoria.

  “I am going to be a father!”

  He shouted it, extending his arms into the air and performing an odd jiggling dance while still laying supine. He laughed aloud, a vigorous whoop added for good measure.

  “Happy, are you?”

  “Absolutely!” He turned his radiant grin toward Jharna, where she stood in the middle of the room and instantly lifted up onto one elbow.

  She wore the same generic sleeping tunic covering her body to just above her knees. Her face was freshly washed and hair brushed to a shining cascade of satin reaching to her buttocks and draping her delicate shoulders and full breasts. No jewels, cosmetics, or elaborate garments. Only Jharna, the wife of his heart, keeper of his soul, and now mother of his child. Lust crashed over him like a storm to join with the indescribable sensations of completeness already surging inside.

  “How could I not be happy? I have you, the most beautiful, amazing woman on the planet, and a baby on the wa
y. First a husband and now a father. I am ecstatic! Now come back to bed, so I can show you just how immense my joy is.”

  She laughed, crossing the short space with a sinuous gait and kneeling on the bed next to George. Leaning until barely an inch away from his parted lips, she whispered, “Was that a euphemism? The ‘immense my joy’ phrase? Mmmm… I do believe it was. A truthful euphemism.” She stroked over his groin, laughing huskily at his gasping groan. “Happy birthday, priya. I love you.”

  “I love you, Jharna, priya. Always.”

  Closing the gap, George kissed her teasing mouth, drowning her laughter with a voraciously seeking tongue. Rolling her smoothly under his body, he hungrily deepened the kiss, one hand snaking into the inky silkiness of her hair while the other slid up her thigh beneath the gown. For a long while they kissed and caressed. Excitement rose with every touch and taste. Generated heat dispelled the crispness of the winter air, the blankets and garments cast aside without a thought to being chilled. That was impossible with the searing flames racing through their entwined bodies. Desire was a fierce current, yearning to be satisfied.

  Yet George felt a greater urge. A magnetic need that drew him again and again toward her belly where their baby slept secure in his or her cocoon. He cupped the tiny mound, kissed along the bronzed skin dozens of times, and whispered sweet words of love to the unseen ears. Then he would return to her lips and attempt to convey his boundless appreciation with fervid kisses. When he finally sheathed himself within her warm body, the sensation was powerful as it never had been before. Acknowledging the life between them that had been created by their love was a fierce aphrodisiac as it turned out!

  “George?”

  He grunted an affirmative, trusting she would hear him since he was nibbling her earlobe in time to each steady thrust.

  “Are you listening?”

  Another affirmative grunt, this one accompanied by a nip to her jaw.