“Our bed? Really, Mr. Darcy.” She was taken aback by his boldness, but not wholly intimidated. “And are you not afraid someone will discover you here, sir, in our bed?” she asked rather impudently.
Darcy was standing directly before her, his body so close Elizabeth could feel the heat radiating from him. “Not at all,” he said in a low voice. “I have taken the liberty of locking the doors.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard at this declaration but found her voice again quickly. “Ah, such foresight, sir, but it seems you have forgotten you will have to return eventually to your own chamber before morning. So how, pray, do you propose you will manage that feat without calling attention to our current, scandalous situation?”
“That, my love, is simple.” He directed her attention to a door she had not noticed, next to the chaise. “Our rooms are adjoined. I need only open that door to return to my own apartment quite undetected.”
Her mouth formed a silent “O,” and her eyes widened.
“Yes, it is most convenient.” He took a deep, steady breath and, with a small smile, trailed his hands down the length of her arms.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. “I am surprised Mr. Bingley and my sister approved of such an arrangement. You must admit it is highly improper.”
“Yes,” he murmured, “highly improper. If I am not mistaken though, your sister is quite unaware of the close proximity of our chambers. Bingley, on the other hand, would very much like to believe the orchestration of this arrangement to have been an oversight by a careless servant.”
“I see,” she whispered, her pulse quickening. “Yet, it was not an oversight, was it?”
“No,” he agreed, “it most definitely was not.”
They stood in silence for some time, the eyes of each searching the depths of the other, before Darcy spoke again. “Truly, I intended this only for the purpose of slipping into your room undetected to provide comfort to you should you be in need of it, but, forgive me, Elizabeth, once I laid my eyes upon you as you slept so peacefully, I could not bring myself to leave you. I know it was very wrong of me, and indeed, I have no excuse to offer you for my behavior other than a sincere, heartfelt concern for what I know you to have suffered.”
Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes sparkling in the waning light of the fire. She reached out to him then, placing her hands upon his chest. Darcy swallowed, his throat suddenly parched as he forced himself to say, “I believe the time has come for me to return to my own rooms. If you are truly feeling better, my love, I would not wish to put your reputation at risk any more than I already have.”
He placed a chaste kiss upon her forehead and made to leave, but was stopped by Elizabeth as she laid her hands upon his arm. “You do bring me comfort,” she whispered. “Please do not go. Stay with me. No one need ever learn of it.”
Darcy could hardly believe what he was hearing and so closed his eyes, willing himself to remain in control of his senses. Elizabeth’s fingers had begun to move over his chest in the most exquisite manner, robbing him of all coherent thought. He took several deep breaths before finally managing to summon the strength required to remove her hands from his body. She gave him a puzzled look as he released her and took a step backward. “I cannot. You know I cannot.”
She was hurt; he could read as much in her expressive eyes. “You do not wish to lie with me, then?” she inquired, her voice pained.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “It is because I want nothing more right now than to lie with you that leads me to refuse you. Surely you are not so naïve as to believe you would awaken in the morning a maiden still if I were to lie with you tonight? My self-control when I am with you, and especially at this moment, I am afraid, is sadly lacking. I cannot consent to such a thing, my love. Not before you are truly my wife.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes. “My own self-possession, I fear, where you are concerned, also leaves something to be desired. So as you can see, sir, I believe it is a hopeless case.”
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, “you know not what you say. It is not right. You should be my wife.”
“Then make me your wife, Fitzwilliam. Make me your wife tonight.”
Darcy silently stared at her for some time, struggling against the overwhelming urge to surrender his body and soul to the intoxicating woman before him. His heart was already in her possession; it had been so for many months now, from almost the very first moment he had laid his eyes on her.
Elizabeth was gazing up at him, an unmistakable look of love in her eyes, and Darcy felt a searing pang of longing shoot through his breast. Suddenly, such temptation, when presented to him in the irresistible form of the woman he not only loved, but desired above any other, was simply too much. With a shaky breath, he indulged one of his favorite fantasies—that of entwining his hands possessively within her hair.
Elizabeth ran her tongue over her parched lips and quivered in anticipation, unable to deny the desire pulsing through her veins.
“My Elizabeth, I love you so,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Are you certain, absolutely certain, this is what you truly wish?”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and Darcy pressed his body against her own and claimed her lips in a kiss that conveyed the depth of his desire. He deepened the kiss, and Elizabeth parted her lips, welcoming his tongue as it explored her mouth. His hands disengaged her curls to roam freely over her curves, tantalizing her body with firm strokes, his fingers pausing only to loosen the bodice of her night shift before resuming their previous ministrations.
Elizabeth was utterly lost to everything around her save for the man before her, and seemingly without warning, the thin fabric of her shift slid from her shoulders and down to the floor in a cascade of creamy silk, exposing her breasts and hips to his adept touch. It left her gasping as the chill of the room and Darcy’s skilled hands assaulted her bare flesh.
He withdrew just far enough to allow his gaze to devour the vision before him. Elizabeth’s mouth was parted in anticipation of his kisses, her full breasts with their pert nipples heaving, her hips—he dared not think of her hips—so smooth and inviting, waiting for him to draw forth all the undeniable passion burning within her. In the wake of his increasing ardor, Darcy struggled to regain his senses and, so softly he could barely hear his own words, murmured, “My dearest love, you are exquisite beyond my wildest dreams.”
Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes. She had always imagined being completely unclothed before a man would have been, at the very least, disconcerting, to say nothing of embarrassing, but on this night with Darcy, she found it surprisingly natural, utterly pleasurable. His ragged breathing felt hot against the side of her face as he stared at her with a smoldering look in his eyes that she returned with equal emotion. Elizabeth encircled his neck with her arms, burying her fingers in his tousled hair and, standing on the tips of her toes, teased the exposed skin of his neck with her lips and the velvet of her tongue.
A groan rose from the back of his throat, and she felt him shiver as she pressed her naked body against his solid, clothed form. He recaptured her mouth in an urgent kiss, holding her against him with one hand as the other slid along the curve of her spine and around the swell of her hip to insinuate itself between her thighs in the most intimate of caresses. It took her by surprise, and Elizabeth found her senses overwrought by an entirely new sensation. As the tension within her continued to build, her knees weakened, and she found herself moaning her pleasure against his lips.
Darcy could hardly contain his desire as he held her. She was beyond magnificent, a woman surrendering herself completely to her desires, a willing, active participant in his lovemaking. His own arousal was fierce, and he longed to possess her, to bring her to the pinnacle of satisfaction, to make all his dreams a reality. Her breath was coming in fast, shallow pants, and when Elizabeth uttered his name with longing, he begged her for the honor of making her his at last.
She answered him with a smoldering kiss and a breath
y “Yes,” and with an inarticulate sound, Darcy lifted the woman he loved in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he made quick work of removing his shirt and breeches before taking his rightful place beside her. Instantly, his lips resumed their ministrations, burning a trail of kisses across her shoulders and neck and the small, sensitive spot behind her ear. All the while, his hands explored her curves in the most insistent manner.
He moved lower, running his wet tongue over her breasts until she could stand it no longer and, with the gentlest touch, barely grazed her nipple with his teeth. Elizabeth cried out as delicious sensations traveled throughout her body.
In an effort to silence her, Darcy returned his mouth to hers while his hands continued to pleasure her body. He ran his fingers lightly along her breasts, over her ribs, her waist, her hips, her thighs, and when her legs parted to allow him entrance to her most private place, he felt a new surge of desire for her and heard her gasp with pleasure as his fingers slid into her moist folds.
As Darcy began to stroke her most sensitive flesh in small, slow circles, Elizabeth lost all sense of everything else, surrendered herself to his fiery touch, and approached the height of her passion.
Darcy lifted his head to look at her. She was beyond exquisite with her hair strewn across the pillows, her eyes closed, her breathing labored, her back arching as he teased her with his finger. When she began to writhe from the ecstasy of his touch, he took her breast in his mouth and suckled her until she cried out for him, as though she were delirious with desire. At last he felt her release. Her body convulsed as wave upon wave of spasms washed over her.
Darcy’s eyes searched hers. In their liquid depths he saw no fear of what was yet to come—only love, fulfillment, and trust. “My dearest, are you quite certain this is truly what you want?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse, all the while praying her answer would be in the affirmative.
Elizabeth reached out to him. Her voice caught in her throat, and she whispered, “Fitzwilliam, make me yours.”
He placed a lingering kiss on her swollen lips, and as he parted her legs with his own, he was very nearly overcome by his desire for her, his arousal hard and insistent as it strained against her warmth. Darcy entered her with care, his eyes never leaving hers, desperately wishing he could gauge her thoughts and emotions. Elizabeth was gloriously tight, lush, and welcoming, and it took every ounce of inner strength he possessed to remind himself to go slowly, so as not to cause her any undue distress. When he met her resistance, he whispered in a strained voice, “My love, this may be painful, but only for a minute,” and in the next moment he thrust deeply, penetrating her last barrier. A small cry of pain escaped her; it could not be helped. He took a great deal of time to kiss her until he felt her body begin to relax around his.
Darcy wrapped her legs around his hips and began moving with slow, deliberate strokes, feeling the delicious heat quickly building to an almost intolerable pitch. He was overwhelmed with the feelings she inspired in him and could not help but marvel at the wonder of her and the tremendous intensity of their love. His need for her increased almost violently, and his motions accelerated to match his insatiable desire.
Elizabeth soon found her initial discomfort replaced by a hot, tingling sensation at her innermost core, and she began to move her body in time to Darcy’s rhythm until, with one final, deep thrust, he sent them both cresting over the edge of their passion, shuddering in a dizzying crescendo of ultimate pleasure.
They lay spent, their breathing erratic, their bodies glistening with perspiration in the waning light of the fire. At length, fearing his weight had become too much, Darcy withdrew to lie beside Elizabeth, pulling the counterpane around them. It was with great tenderness that his lips lingered over hers as his hand played with her curls. “Are you well, Elizabeth?” His voice was filled with love.
She snuggled against him, relishing the communion they had just shared. “Mmm… very well, Fitzwilliam.”
“I am relieved to hear it.” He kissed her again with feeling and whispered, “I adore you.”
Elizabeth smiled contentedly against his shoulder. “I would hope so, after sharing such a profound intimacy.”
Darcy’s voice filled with emotion. “You know not how long I have dreamt of making you mine. Visions of your beauty have haunted my thoughts for months, but none so breathtaking as the vision now before me. Truly, tonight was a gift beyond any I ever imagined.”
Elizabeth allowed her fingers to caress his chest. “Yes. It was very beautiful. I feel as though I am bound to you for all eternity.”
“And I to you, though you must realize my love for you already bound me to you months ago. But I agree. We have become even more, so much more. Nothing can ever tear you from me now, my sweetest Elizabeth.” Their lips met again as they held each other close, their bodies eager to repeat the intricate motions of a dance as old as time.
Chapter 12
It was not surprising that the next morning Elizabeth awoke somewhat later than usual. She reached across the bed for Darcy, whom she knew to have spent the entire night in her arms, only to find him now gone. It was just as well, for discovery would only add to their current difficulties. She gazed out the window and saw the storm had not abated during the night, and with a contented smile, she snuggled deeper beneath the counterpane, recalling the many hours she had passed in blissful occupation with Darcy, a deep blush overspreading her cheeks.
Last night Darcy had made love to her with a tenderness that had left Elizabeth in no doubt of the depth of his feelings for her. Indeed, she had found the entire experience to be overwhelmingly intimate, profoundly beautiful, and immeasurably satisfying. Even afterward, as they lay spent in each other’s arms, Darcy’s concern for her comfort and her well-being remained great, as was his concern for the preservation of her reputation.
Without bothering to dress himself, Darcy had taken his discarded cravat and, walking to the washbasin, dipped it in the clean water. He then returned to her and, gently spreading her legs, had proceeded to cleanse all evidence of her maiden blood from her body, using the coolness of the water to soothe any physical discomfort she may have experienced. He had then checked the condition of the bed linens and, thanking the heavens there seemed to be no sign of a stain, tossed his soiled cravat onto the fire and returned to her. When she had questioned the necessity of such actions, he had explained he did not wish to leave any evidence behind to give one of the maids any cause, either for alarm or for gossip. Grateful for his solicitation, as well as his reassuring presence, Elizabeth had very soon drifted off to sleep, enveloped in his arms.
With a sigh and a strong desire to see Darcy, Elizabeth threw back the counterpane and rose, dressing herself in her discarded shift. She then rang for a maid and ordered her bath. She had just laid aside her wet towel and had wrapped a robe around herself when she heard a soft knock upon the door to her chamber.
“Lizzy?” Jane’s concerned voice called to her from the other side. Elizabeth bid her enter, and she soon saw her sister was carrying a fresh gown for her, most likely on loan from either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst. She held it up and wondered how she would ever manage to fit into it, for Miss Bingley was rather taller than she and both ladies significantly less endowed.
“You look tired, Lizzy. I hope you have not slept ill.”
“No, not at all. I am fine, Jane. I am only a little distracted this morning; that is all.”
“I cannot say I am surprised to hear it. Oh, Lizzy, would but Mr. Collins had only minded his own business and never concerned himself with your affairs with Mr. Darcy. He cannot know what pain he gives us.”
“I beg your pardon, Jane,” she said with some distaste, “but I believe he knows precisely what he is about. Has it never occurred to you that in the wake of his disappointment, our cousin may harbor some degree of resentment toward me for having refused his suit? And, of course, he would be indignant on behalf of Lady Catherine and her daughter. Mr. Darcy is her favorite
nephew, and I have accepted him, so it should only follow he should also suffer for having succeeded where Mr. Collins, himself, has failed.”
Jane was thoughtful for a moment. “I confess I had not considered that.”
“No, of course you did not. It is not in your nature to entertain such unscrupulous possibilities. You are far too good, Jane. I envy you your faith in the world.” They joined hands and sat companionably upon the bed for some time.
“Truly, you look pale, Lizzy. Are you certain you are well? You were not at all yourself yesterday.”
“I assure you, I am recovered enough now from the initial shock of Charlotte’s intelligence. Please do not worry yourself over me. My concern now is not so much for myself but for the rest of our family. You and I have had the good fortune to have made prudent matches with respectable gentlemen who happen to value and esteem us, but Mary, Kitty, and Lydia have yet to find husbands. I cannot help berating myself for acting so carelessly. I should have anticipated the very great possibility Mr. Darcy and I could easily have been discovered in a moment of… vulnerability. That it was Mr. Collins who came upon us only makes it all the more wretched.”
Jane hesitated. “Then it is true? You have permitted Mr. Darcy to take liberties with you?”
Elizabeth found it difficult to repress a mischievous smile at her sister’s unease. “Yes, I am afraid Charlotte’s report is accurate, in that respect at least. But please do not misunderstand me, Jane. It is not my intimacy with Mr. Darcy I regret, for I can never have any lamentation on that score. My only remorse stems from our unguarded behavior in a fairly public setting. We gave very little thought to any repercussions from our actions and even less to the possibility of discovery. I am afraid we have both been rather irresponsible.” If she only knew of what took place last night!
A blush spread across both their cheeks, and Jane asked in a whisper, “Was it very intimate, what you and Mr. Darcy shared? Was it… more than kissing?”
Truth about Mr. Darcy Page 12
