In that, he was one hundred percent correct.
It was a quiet evening in the farmhouse since all of the men with the exception of George had gone on an overnight trek into the mountains. Personally, he thought they were insane and no amount of taunting had convinced him that sleeping in tents pitched atop freezing ground would be entertaining. Mary had long since retired, as had all but the oldest of the children, and the lively game of whist played by the women was over. George sat in the chair closest to the fire, ostensibly reading a book. In truth, he was flipping through it randomly while sneaking sidelong glances at Amanda. She sat next to Georgiana, both of them with some sort of needlecraft in their hands. George ignored the project itself, his eyes following the rhythmic movements of her dainty hands and fingers while imagining the plethora of ways those hands could rouse him if moving over his skin. George knew next to nothing about sewing, or whatever she was doing, so was unaware of her distraction until Georgiana politely pointed out that an entire row of stitches was wrong.
“Oh my! I must be wearier than I thought. How foolish of me!” She released a shaky laugh and set the hoop aside with trembling hands. “My addled brains are not conducive to needlepoint. I believe I shall retire if you do not mind, my dear?”
“Of course not. Please, go sleep. I believe I shall enjoy the solitude of the music room while I can.”
Amanda gathered her sewing basket, patted Georgiana on the knee, rose from the sofa, and walked to the staircase. George observed the entire exchange beneath lowered brows. Not once had she looked his way. Still he watched her lithe figure ascend the steps and noted the hesitation before she paused, gazed over her shoulder, and smiled at him. Instantly, his heart accelerated. It was only a smile, but he knew it was an invitation.
Seconds later, she was beyond his sight, and it took every ounce of his willpower to stay seated. Using Georgiana’s exit to cover any obvious connection to Mrs. Annesley, George expressed his desire to retire. The effort to leisurely bid good night to Elizabeth, Lady Matlock, and the other women in the room before casually taking the stairs he wanted to dash up was monumental. He rounded the corner and spied Amanda leaning against the wall halfway down the corridor, saying nothing as he took her hand and led her to his bedchamber.
George slammed the door with a shove of his foot, not letting go of her hand or giving her time to turn around before drawing her backward against his chest. She melted pliantly into his embrace as he pressed his lips into the tender bend of her neck.
“Amanda, I am aching for you and beg you tell me immediately if you do not wish to go further. I cannot promise I will heed a later plea to stop!”
“I won’t ask you to stop, George, and would be seriously vexed if you did!”
He chuckled at her cheeky answer, the rumbling sensation and fingers skimming the sensitive flesh above her bodice causing her to shiver. The fabric was thick, but George could see her nipples outlined underneath, and he easily crept under the lacy edge to palm each bare breast, proving they were as hard as he thought. A twist and slide of his hands was sufficient to peel the bodice away far enough to expose her generous bosom, the cool air and his stimulating fingers firming each pink nipple to stony points he hungered to taste.
All in good time. No need to rush.
It was a mantra difficult to adhere to, especially when she clutched his thighs and burrowed his rigid shaft between the crevice of her buttocks. He growled into her ear, the lazy travel up her neck ending as he savagely claimed her parted lips while grinding harshly against her. This led to several minutes of insane kissing, touching, and disrobing as their long-repressed yearnings soared free. George knew that for him it was primarily his lust for her but also three years of denied need raging to an overwhelming peak. He suspected that some of what she was expressing was the same, dimly hoping that the scale was tipped in his direction rather than simply want of a man. It was a sudden, strange line of thought, the accompanying stab of jealousy that perhaps he wasn’t the first since her husband viciously shoved aside.
Their wild dance around the room had somehow taken them to a wooden bureau of drawers, Amanda clutching the knobs while George slipped each stocking down her legs, licking and nibbling the silky, white skin as he went. Licking his way gradually back up, he halted for a delirious handful of minutes at the juncture between her thighs. Opening her wide and drawing one leg over his shoulder, George coaxed and teased until she was gasping for air and spasming uncontrollably. Inhaling raggedly, he stood to his feet and stepped back a pace, his eyes thirstily drinking in the naked vision of perfection trembling against the wooden surface and staring at him with glazed awe.
Amanda was a petite woman, the top of her head barely reaching George’s breastbone, and the shortest lover he had ever been with. Everything about her was delicate and small, except for her breasts, which were surprisingly large for her pixie frame. Her daintiness instilled an intense desire to protect and please, or at least, he told himself, it was only that and not a stronger emotion. Her diminutive stature and fine bones gave the initial impression of weakness or fragility, George abruptly worried that he may have hurt her by pressing into the hard wood.
He bent to plant a gentle kiss to her lips, his hands smoothing over her arms. “Did I hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” She laughed and shook her head. “Sweet George. If that is hurting me, then please, by all that is holy, do whatever you can to cause me more pain!”
His chuckle was lost when she snaked her arms around his waist and crushed her body into his with a well-placed squirm, her ravenous kiss muffling the sound.
George soon learned that there was nothing weak or fragile about Amanda Annesley. Nor did his worry that her petite frame might indicate insufficiency in accepting him inside her. Indeed, that proved to be easily accomplished and blissful beyond belief. She was tight and warm, the exquisite friction driving him absolutely mad. The feel of her breasts rubbing over his chest with each thrust, her hands and legs gripping and fondling as they undulated in unison, and her soft moans and sighs added to the intensity of their lovemaking. The long delay did not allow for an extended bout of loving, but at this point, neither cared. Haste to attain the glory of united ecstasy was perfectly fine.
For a long while, they held each other without saying a word. George stroked her hair and planted light kisses on her forehead. Happiness not felt in years blanketed his soul. For the present, he simply wished to bask in it and not analyze. It was Amanda who finally lifted from the safe cocoon within his arms, the smile on her face radiant as she swept fingers through his hair.
“I should return to my room before Miss Darcy tires of the pianoforte. She may come looking for me.”
“No, do not leave yet. Please? You can give Georgie an excuse. Tell her you were in the library or walking the balcony.” He gently squeezed one breast and circled his thumb around the nipple, thrilling at the instant response. “Give me some time to rest, and I am certain I can discover another way to cause you pain.”
She laughed, bending to bestow a playful kiss that rapidly grew heated. “No jesting of pain, George. What you have shown me is pleasure unfathomable. Thank you for that.”
He caressed her cheek, eyes serious in the muted light. “You do not have to thank me, Amanda. I should thank you for the gift you have given me. I hope this will not be our only time together, but as I said before, I respect your choice.”
Something he could not decipher flickered through her eyes. It disturbed him but he could not comprehend why. Then it was gone and she was smiling and kissing him again. Her huskily whispered, “this will not be our only time,” drove all concerns out of his mind. That and her stimulating hand which had him ready to love her sooner than he imagined possible.
In the three weeks that ticked away the time when he would depart with the Darcys while she stayed behind with Georgiana for their journey on to Italy, Amanda came to his
room five times. It was not easy for her to slip away, George knew, but he also sensed that she restrained herself. Each time she tapped on the door, he was there in an instant, yanking it open and pulling her into his embrace before the door closed. Each time they loved, whether furious with need or tenderly building to a breathless climax, was stupendous. In those moments of loving and blissful aftermath, he forgot about the fact that they would be parted. When he did try to steer the conversation into weightier matters, she evaded by either a touch that drove him insane or by slipping away to her own room. It was frustrating, but he also knew that his own indecision and uncertainty allowed the topic to be avoided. During the light of day, they went on as usual. George spent most of his time with his sister. Amanda kept close to the women and enthusiastically planned for her trip to Italy. He thought of her constantly and caught her staring at him quite often, but nothing concrete was decided about their relationship.
Or was it a relationship? Were they simply two adults engaged in a mutually pleasing assignation and nothing more? Goodness knows he had executed enough of those in his day! Not for a second did he begrudge Amanda the freedom to do what all of his lovers had done. For some reason he could not quite place his finger on, George did not believe she was like those past lovers, yet there was also no clear indication that she wasn’t. The logical option in light of their individual plans was to separate and then see what transpired when she returned to England next year. Nevertheless, he did not want to part without at least one serious talk.
Two days before the Darcys were to leave, George with them, he and Amanda made love slowly, drawing the pleasure out as long as possible and then collapsing in satiated bliss for a good fifteen minutes before either could speak. Then he rose, surprising her by wrapping her in a thick blanket and leading her to a pile of cushions before the fire. He poured from a wine bottle she had not noticed, handing her a glass and taking a long swallow himself before opening the conversation.
“Amanda, I am not the best at expressing my feelings or being overly sentimental—far too immersed in science and clinical rationality, I suppose. But I want you to know how special this time has been for me. I… well, I am going to miss you terribly.”
She was silent, staring into the red liquid. He waited, frowning when she did not speak. “I suppose you will be busy and surrounded by innumerable dazzling sights so probably not missing me as much, but I confess my ego would like to think you might miss me a tiny bit.”
“Oh, George. You have no concept of how profoundly I will miss you. Nothing in Italy, France, or anywhere else in the world could dazzle me enough to not think of you. Trust me in that and then let us leave the topic alone.”
This time it was George who did not respond. The sadness in her tone pierced him, as did the slump to her shoulders. Finally, he reached out and tenderly lifted her chin. “Amanda, I never meant to hurt you. I swear I didn’t! I sense that I have, and I wish I could say I was sorry for starting something we cannot continue but I can’t say that. I am already counting the days until you are back in England. If only I had seen what was right in front of my eyes sooner. You are precious to me, Amanda, and whatever happens in the future, I want you to know that this time with you will live in my heart forever.”
In the space of a minute her eyes changed from sad to angry. She jerked away from his hand. “George, please do not say such half truths. I know you care for me in your own way, but do not insult my intelligence by claiming something more. You have no reason to do so. I came to you with no illusions of a future or returned love. You hurt me more by pretending otherwise.”
George’s mouth had dropped open, his mind whirling. “I don’t… I don’t understand. Amanda, I would never lie to you. Never! Why would you think that?”
She face softened, the angry tone gone. “I am sorry. I should not have let my emotions rule me. I have no wish to hurt you either, George, and it is unfair to blame you for who you are. It is just… so difficult…” She closed her eyes and choked back a sob. “My common sense told me I was a fool to cross this line with a man who frequently dallies with women and loathes marriage or commitment. I thought if I kept those facts firm in my head, then my heart could not be touched. Even then I tried to resist, but I couldn’t. I have loved you for too long.” She clamped a trembling hand over her mouth, her body shaking with the silent sobs.
George sat stunned. He wanted to take her into his arms but was paralyzed. Grasping on to any one bit of what she had said was next to impossible.
Frequently dallies with women? Loathes marriage and commitment?
“You love me? How long have you loved me?”
“It does not matter.”
“It does to me!”
“Why?” She looked up at him. “What difference does it make if I confess I have loved you since shortly after your arrival two years ago? Does it change where we are now?” She sighed and scooted until almost in his lap. Clasping his face between her hands, she leaned in and kissed him. “George, I do love you and think I forever will. But please do not fear I expect anything from you. I only wanted to be with you, to enjoy this time and feel your touch. I know you cannot offer me anything more, and I would not take it if you did. Not now. I am leaving and my heart cannot survive the next year with half-hearted maybes or false images of you pining for me. Please respect that and just love me one last time. That is the memory I want to hold on to. Please?”
She pushed him back onto the cushions, her mouth slanting over his with hungry insistence. George could not assimilate all she had said, especially with the instantaneous surge of flaming desire that her touch elicited. Hours later, after the deep, dreamless sleep of a man utterly spent from intense loving, George woke to find her gone. She did not come to him the next night and refused to meet his eye the handful of times he saw her during the day. As a tragic epiphany, the puzzling pieces of why she had faded into the background and shunned any contact with him until that day at the Fitzwilliam wedding made sense. The revelation was too late in coming and too shocking for him to comprehend. Before he had time to breathe past the agonizing turmoil of his emotions, he was saying his good-byes to the Oeggl family, including his sister Mary who he knew would die before the year was over, his niece Georgiana, and Lord and Lady Matlock. Amanda Annesley was nowhere to be seen, but he would barely step foot on English soil before realizing his monumental mistake in not storming the house and telling her he loved her.
George’s Memoirs
February 5, 1820
Only one more month, Jharna. I wish I could count the exact days, but Georgiana’s last letter only said they would arrive in time for Miss Kitty’s wedding. I am doing my best to remain patient, but the effort to maintain my typical, flippant gaiety is growing tougher by the day. I weary of playing the carefree bachelor when my heart is bombarded with hope one second and intense fear the next. What if she met someone in Italy or France? What if she no longer loves me or her love has turned to hatred for abandoning her? Lord knows I hate myself for it and would not blame her one iota if she spit in my face. It is maddening that Georgie’s letters contained only oblique mentions of her. I should have followed through on my plan to meet them in Paris after Christmas. Of course, if I had, my guilt over abandoning Elizabeth without realizing she was ill would have killed me. No, it was necessary for me to stay and tend to her. She is speedily on the road to full recovery, I am happy to say, and she and William are fine. Little Michael is a roly-poly baby now. Thank God for that. Those were some scary days, as you know with too many memories of our sweet Bhrithi. But Michael was born weeks later than she was, so while premature, the added time made a difference. No point in leaving for Dover now. I may well pass them crossing the Channel and I definitely want to do more than wave at Amanda from the deck of a ship!
God, what a mess of things I have made! I have branded myself a hundred shades of a fool, and it is not enough. Why did I not tell her the
truth? Even if I was not certain of my love for her, at least I should have told her of you, let her know that I am not the anticommitment cad she thinks. Yes, that hurt. Deeply. But whose fault is it for her assumptions? All mine. Yes, indeed, I am a fool. My pain over losing you kept me silent, all my stupid taunts and roguish claims working against me.
The misery of these eight months is what I deserve for being such an ass. It is Amanda my heart breaks for. She who was in love with me far longer and must be suffering more if she does not hate me, that is. Idiot was I not to notice her! How could I have possibly been so blind, Jharna? I replay those months over and over, trying to recall every time she passed me by or spoke a few words to me. Never did I take the time to get to know her. Oh if I had! We could be married now, living blissfully.
Then Anoop reminds me of what I know you would say as well: All of life is according to our destiny. Everything happens according to purpose. Etcetera. Maybe so. I guess I will find out when I see her.
I ache for her, Jharna. I can no longer distinguish the line between the constant sadness I bear inside at your death and the raw wound from Amanda. The hope I cling to is that she, unlike you, priya, is still alive and might, I pray with all my heart, be willing to give me another chance. No further hesitation this time. Even if she slaps me or yells or runs away, I will grab her, kiss her, and then without a second’s delay, ask her to marry me. I will confess all my sins even if I have to tie her to a post to listen to me. Surely her love cannot have faded. Can it? I told William not too long ago that great love does not die so easily with even years apart or death unable to sever the bond. Of course, I was thinking of you, as William assumed, but I was also referring to Amanda. I only hope those words were true for her. We will be leaving for Hertfordshire in a few weeks. William has obtained Netherfield Park for us, and with luck, I will be the next one married. Dare I pray for that dream to come true? I’ll settle for her smiling at me to start.
The Passions of Dr. Darcy Page 47
