He met her eyes with a level gaze. “Elizabeth, I love you to distraction. You know this, I am certain.” She smiled and nodded. “On occasion, in truth fairly continuously, I am… inundated by my need for you. I do not merely refer to our intimate relationship, for that is only a fragment of my desire for you. When we are parted, even for miniscule periods, I yearn for your presence. The ache is tangible and only assuaged by your voice or touch or simply seeing your face.” He traced her jawline with one finger.
She pondered his serious expression with heightened misery. “Does this yearning and need for me disturb you? You wish it otherwise?”
His eyes widened at the catch in her voice and note of pain, and his hand firmly cupped her cheek. “No, Elizabeth, God no! You misapprehend my words or I chose them poorly. Please, allow me to rephrase. You lend purpose to my life and I am an empty husk without you. My fear is that my… demands could in any way intrude upon you or become burdensome. I frightened you by coming in here, selfishly considering only my desire for you without contemplating if you needed solitude or preferred your privacy. You have had precious little of either since we have wed, and I would not want to be the cause of your dissatisfaction.”
She maneuvered around to face him, water sloshing. “My darling, you are being a baby again.” She smiled and kissed him, happy to feel her dismay evaporating and his eyes softening. “You are forgetting several facts. First, I am terribly forthright, a character trait you are painfully familiar with. If I need solitude, I will tell you. Second, I am as insanely in love with you as you are with me. If we were keeping score, I would venture to guess I have invaded your private sanctuaries and isolation far more often. You need never worry being welcomed by me. Just do not sneak.” She concluded with a precise assault to his ticklish zones, water flying.
The only sure method of halting her antics was to clutch her with strong arms and distract with a deep kiss. “Elizabeth, have I told you lately how utterly amazing you are?” He nibbled along her neck while delicately caressing her shoulders. Oddly enough, at least for the moment, his original intention of fulfilling yet another fantasy by making love in the water was not foremost in his mind. He had spoken honestly regarding his desire for her presence. Merely holding her, knowing he was welcomed and wanted to the same degree, was a balm to his heart. How could he doubt her love? He was ashamed of himself for entertaining the notion.
Thoughts of lovemaking may have momentarily fled his consciousness, but they had dawned with alacrity on Lizzy. Her hands were not content to remain in one area. She ran her palms over his torso, hairs silky and buoyant from the water. Oh, how she adored touching him! Darcy naked and wet was an ambrosial vision. She was ceaselessly energized by his solid, defined muscles, replete with raw power emanating from every pore. His skin was flawless and creamy, as soft as satin, and radiating heat and supreme masculinity. In each line and plane of his perfect body, she sensed strength, protection, fortitude, virility, and intoxicating sexuality. He was the embodiment of all things male and subsequently accentuated her femininity as nothing in her experience ever had. Lizzy knew her love for Darcy was profoundly deeper than merely physical, but, oh, how he aroused her!
She pressed against his chest, moaning softly. “William,” she whispered, “I love you so.”
“My Lizzy,” he sighed, grasping her shoulders lightly and pulling her back a space. He smiled, ran the tips of his fingers over her face, and then reached for the soap. “On your knees,” he commanded quietly as he rose to his. He lathered his hands and proceeded to fastidiously cleanse her body, lingering over each area. Lizzy followed his lead, quickly light-headed from the combined awareness of his hands gliding over her and hers sliding over him. It did not take long for the caresses to become stronger and more intimately focused, sensations raging uncontainable until the urgent necessity to unite as one overwhelmed them.
Darcy frantically clasped her body against his, forcing her to stillness, and kissed her roughly before gulping for air and control as they sank entwined into the slick water. “I do not want to rush this, beloved! I have dreamed of making love to you here for a very long time.”
“How long have you dreamed of this, my heart? And are your dreams being fulfilled?” She leaned down and sharply bit his earlobe, nibbling bites trailing along his wet neck.
“Far longer than it would be proper for me to divulge if I wish to maintain my reputation as a gentleman. As for the content of my dreams… as vivid as they were, none has remotely resembled the reality of your love, Elizabeth. Despite the stories amongst my peers, I had no true notion of the physical pleasure and absolutely not a clue as to the spiritual and emotional gratification I have attained in you, my wife.”
They kissed deeply and playfully. Hands touching everywhere: backs, breasts, arms, necks, faces… slipping nimbly in the filmy water. Oh, the ecstasy! Darcy was a man possessed. Some part of his mind was amazed anew at the love and desire he felt for this woman, his wife. Even throughout the long, hideous months of wanting her, he had not fully appreciated how utterly she would consume his existence or how vital she would be to his happiness.
Further, as he felt desire growing beyond what seemed physically possible, as the torrents of throbbing heat surged through his body, as breathing and heartbeat erratically pounded in his chest, and as rapture dominated and crashed over him, he acknowledged the ignorance and innocence of his former self. In all ways that mattered, he had been born and became a man on the day she married him.
Lord and Lady Matlock arrived late in the afternoon, blowing in with the wind and snow. Now all the Christmas guests were present and accounted for, and introductions were executed. Once again the outstanding Pemberley staff exceeded all expectations and served a lavish feast. The after-dinner activities were fairly subdued, all being fatigued from their daytime pursuits. The gentlemen renounced their usual private entertainments in favor of joining the ladies in the parlor. Hot cocoa and spiced cider was served as an accompaniment to a platter of sweets, fruits, nuts, and other finger treats. Conversation was sporadic and tempered.
Georgiana sat quietly and embroidered. Lady Matlock and Mrs. Lathrop had formed an easy acquaintance, based primarily on the fact that Lady Matlock had distant Scottish ancestry and adored the Highlands. She had visited there often in her youth, as her family owned a manor near Inverness, so they now conversed amiably. Darcy, contentedly sipping his cup of cocoa, sat near Mr. Lathrop in a far corner, the two old friends softly speaking as they renewed their association by reliving memories of bygone days and filling in the recent gaps. Lord Matlock read by the roaring fire, lulled in short order into a doze. Lizzy, Richard, Mrs. Gardiner, and Mr. Gardiner sat at the card table and played whist, the Gardiners teaming up against Lizzy and the Colonel. The card table was by far the liveliest spot in the room, yet even there a halcyon atmosphere prevailed.
Lady Matlock retired first, rescuing the Earl from embarrassing himself by snoring while he drowsed. Georgiana followed soon thereafter. The game ended, the Gardiners the ultimate victors with two sets won to Lizzy and Richard’s one. Darcy and Mr. Lathrop’s conversation had evolved naturally to the topic of their mutual bliss regarding their wedded states, prompting both gentlemen’s thoughts to deviate toward their lovely wives. As the party began to break up, it was clear to the remaining guests where the newlyweds’ musings lay. With gentle smiles of understanding, the Gardiners and Richard extended their good nights. Mr. Lathrop and Darcy claimed their spouses and wasted no time with excessive adieus.
Darcy and Lizzy parted to their respective dressing rooms with a slow kiss, Darcy commanding her to wait for him to retrieve her before entering their bedchamber—a request that puzzled her, but she agreed. In no time at all he entered wearing nothing but a robe, as Lizzy preferred, and assumed the task of brushing her hair. No words passed for some fifteen minutes, each content simply to enjoy the moment. Darcy reveled in the sensation of her sumptuous hair crackling with life in his hands, while Li
zzy succumbed to the pleasure of his radiant warmth behind her and the soft kisses and caresses he interspersed while he brushed.
When he spoke, his voice was husky, sending thrills down her spine. “I have an early Christmas present for you, my dearest wife. Do you wish to see it?”
“How coincidental! I have an early present for you as well, and somehow I gather we shall both greatly benefit from our respective gifts,” she replied with a saucy smile. She rose from her seat, turning to face him as she leaned against her vanity, blushing faintly. Focusing on his expectant but puzzled gaze, she continued in an enticing whisper, “Today, my love, you fulfilled a fantasy of yours, to my tremendous pleasure, I hasten to add. Perhaps you would welcome sharing a fantasy of mine?”
He raised a brow and grinned. “As you wish, dearest. I am at your disposal.”
Her blush increased and she swallowed nervously but met his gaze boldly. “Nearly every evening, you enter my dressing room and brush my hair as I sit on my bench. You kiss my neck softly and caress my neck and shoulders with your beautiful fingers.” As she spoke she demonstrated his movements with her own fingers lightly brushing her skin. Darcy gulped, groin clenching. “Time and again I have visualized you proceeding further to my back and then down my arms as you seductively peel my robe away,” and she slowly removed her robe, letting in fall in a puddle of satin at her feet.
Darcy gasped and blinked in disbelief. She was wearing the sheerest, clingiest, and shortest chemise he had ever beheld, thigh-high silk stockings secured with lacy garters, and nothing else. Intelligible speech was literally impossible. She stood patiently, observing with a thrill of satisfaction his obvious excitement. Serenely she glided toward him until there was only the bench between them. Bending slowly until her lips were touching his right ear, she murmured, “Do you wish to hear what I then imagine, my heart?” She sucked his earlobe and he could only groan a raspy yes. “I dream of you loving me here, in my dressing room, too overwhelmed with your need to walk even to our bed.”
He froze in shock, staring at her in incredulity. What she was suggesting was in point of fact a fantasy he had harbored and vividly enacted in his dreams. Like all his more exotic fantasies, he had intended to work toward implementing them gradually as he deemed her receptive. Despite her openness in their intimate relationship and her astounding passion, he nonetheless was flabbergasted that she would fabricate such a fantasy and then beseech and obviously lust after him in this manner! Aghast he might be, but assuredly he was not unwilling to capitulate wholeheartedly to her supplication. A slow, sensuous grin diffused his face.
Happily, so very happily, he granted her wish. As they were learning with each passing day, their love knew no bounds. The joy they derived from each other was intense and infinite, acceptable and expressible in a multitude of ways and places.
Bliss was attained as easily as always, Darcy dazedly lurching to the bench and sinking gratefully as his legs trembled. Elizabeth sat on his lap with her head thrown onto his shoulder. Both were panting in ragged gasps, needing a number of minutes to regulate heartbeats before speech was possible. She turned her lips to his neck, kissing tenderly. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I do not have the words. I love you.”
He smiled. “And I love you, precious wife. Feel free to share any other fantasies you entertain. I live to please you.”
She kissed his mouth, chuckling softly. “Yes, you assuredly do please me, husband.” She rose then and exited to her water closet, returning shortly having freshened up and straightened her skimpy attire. Darcy was robed, leaning against the doorjamb, and still breathing heavily.
She approached him and lightly placed her fingers on his shoulders. “You have a gift for me, Fitzwilliam?” Her lovely, radiant face tilted toward his; expectant aspiration already reawakening, to her fortunate spouse’s delight.
He nodded, cleared his throat, and licked dry lips before he could speak. “Yes. Elizabeth, you are breathtaking and I am overwhelmed.” He kissed her tenderly, exploring every part of her mouth before releasing her, clasping her hand and ushering her into their bedchamber. “Close your eyes, beloved.”
He halted and moved behind her, encircling her waist with sturdy arms and pulling her firmly against his body, and then whispered into her ear, “As you wished for, my lover. Open your eyes.”
Lizzy grinned and laughed sensuously. Darcy had fulfilled her request by procuring an enormous bearskin rug and five generous, plush pillows situated precisely in front of the blazing fire. The room was lit solely by the fire and a smattering of candles randomly placed. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat by the rug. She turned in his arms, snaking her hands about his neck and fingering his hair, drawing his lips to hers.
“Happy Christmas, husband,” she murmured as he ambushed her mouth zealously, releasing her eventually as his knees were still weak from the desire stirred by her gift.
“Sit, Mrs. Darcy, and I shall pour us some wine. I, frankly, need it as you have effectively unhinged me.”
She laughed as she sat. “Poor Mr. Darcy.”
He grinned as he handed her a glass. “On the contrary, dearest, I am the luckiest man alive and emphatically not complaining. To us, on our first of a century of Christmases.” They clicked glasses and sipped.
“A century?”
“I did tell you I selfishly intend to live a very long time to love you. After your gift this evening, I believe I shall require a hundred years, if not more, to learn all the delicious ways to please you.” He sat with her between his legs, reclining against his knee. He sipped his wine, watched her fire-burnished face, and absently fiddled with the ribbons tying her chemise together.
Her free hand stroked his other leg where it draped over her lap. Time passed as they drank their wine and each placidly enjoyed the presence of the other, speaking occasionally but mainly silent.
“William, I love you.” She spoke softly and smiled with her eyes as well as her lips.
He bent near, gazing intently into her eyes, and then kissed her gently but thoroughly, tasting the wine on her tongue. His lips traveled to her cheek and along her jaw to her ear, nibbling the lobe and then tickling her with the moist tip of his tongue. “I adore you, Elizabeth. I worship you, I respect you, I lust for you, I admire you, I cherish you, I love you ardently. My wife, lover, companion, mother of my children, my soul, my heart…” His endearments fell fainter until they ceased as he devoted himself to the task at hand.
Lizzy sighed, excitement rising at his intoxicating touch. He pulled away, leaving her panting, and reached under a pillow. He handed her a small box tied with a red ribbon.
“A gift, dearest, although after your innovation and precociousness, as displayed most recently and on various other occasions this past month, I remain hesitant at the wisdom in presenting it to you. I must trust that you will take pity on your older husband and not strive to incapacitate him.” He was smiling as he spoke and Lizzy blushed, even though she had no idea what he meant.
She opened the box and removed a tiny brass key. She looked at him in bafflement. “It opens a cabinet in my study,” he answered her questioning expression. “Only I have the other key. The cabinet secures my most private and personal effects: my journals, letters from you, mementos… and a set of books.” He paused, staring at her as her brows rose and a naughty grin appeared.
“Books? How sweet of you, William. Always desiring to improve my mind. I promise I shall apply myself diligently to the cause and will practice as often as feasible.”
“You minx!” He tackled her and tossed her onto the pillows, lying fully on her and kissing hungrily.
Lizzy did not rouse at the knock to their door but did at the hoarse rumble of Darcy’s voice, felt as well as heard through his chest where her head lay. She stretched and nestled closer to his side, his arms immediately tightening their grip.
“Is it morning already?” she asked sleepily and yawned expansively.
“I fear so.” He nudged her gently, ro
lling to his side with her in his embrace until he could see her face. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Darcy,” he murmured with a tender kiss as he stroked her hair.
“Hmmm… Happy Christmas, beloved. Must we rise straight away? Or do we have time to cuddle for a spell?”
“I believe an obligatory episode of Christmas cuddling is in order,” he said with a smile.
With a mixture of joy for the holiday and regret at departing their warm bed, the Darcys embarked upon their day. Lizzy joined her husband in their sitting room, having bathed and dressed, stunning Darcy as she approached in a resplendent gown of cream and emerald green taffeta. Marguerite had once again dressed Elizabeth’s hair elaborately, clips with emeralds and diamonds sparkling nearly as brightly as her fine eyes.
Darcy caught his breath and then smiled expansively. He took her hands, kissing each palm. “Lovely, Mrs. Darcy.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” She curtseyed. “You are quite dashing as well, husband. I believe Samuel and Marguerite are consorting again.” She laughed, fingering the emerald green waistcoat he wore.
“Heaven forbid we clashed. Come, my love, our guests await and I am famished.”
Traversing corridors and staircases abounding with greenery, ribbons, and candles, along with the surfeit of mistletoe balls, the Lathrops joined the Darcys and the Matlocks, all attired in their holiday finery. Christmas greetings flowed. Georgiana, Col. Fitzwilliam, and the Gardiners were already in the dining room partaking of the fabulous Christmas morning spread. Mrs. Langton had cooked three versions of the traditional Christmas pudding frumenty as well as a vast array of sweet rolls and pastries. Further greetings ensued as Darcy went directly to the coffee and then piled his plate with food, pausing for a tender kiss to Georgiana’s cheek.
“Happy Christmas, brother.”
“Happy Christmas, my dear. All is well, Georgie?”
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