My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey into Love Everlasting tds-3

by Sharon Lathan

  “You know I never back away from a dare. Therefore, I accept your challenge, but shall grant no quarter, my dear.”

  “None shall be asked for, William.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice, “I love you, you know. If I do win, I will expect you to reward me as I see fit.”

  Darcy took her hand and kissed her fingers lightly, eyes locked with hers, naturally resonant voice husky. “It seems that I shall win in either case then.”

  “Mr. Darcy, what a pleasant surprise!”

  Both Darcy and Lizzy jolted. Lizzy flushed brightly, but Darcy recovered smoothly, standing with elegant grace to greet the older man smiling pleasantly from the aisle. “Lord Ellis. What brings you from Suffolk?”

  “Sea air and horses, naturally. Likely the same as yourself. Mrs. Darcy, I trust you are well?”

  Lizzy smiled. “Quite well, my Lord. It is a delight to see you again. Is Lady Ellis accompanying you?”

  “Alas, she despises horse racing and has opted to shop.” More random chatter ensued, Lord Ellis eventually leaving the Darcys to “continue their amusements” with a wink, Lizzy reddening again.

  The afternoon hours elapsed. Darcy and Lizzy kept to their contest with playful seriousness, neither willing to tolerate defeat although it was equally obvious that neither would really suffer if the loser. Surprisingly, Lord Ellis was not the only acquaintance encountered. Probably a fifth of the attendees seated in the stadium section relegated to those of wealth and station were known to Darcy. Several were military officers introduced through Col. Fitzwilliam, but most were social peers familiar to varying degrees. Between casual conversations, thrilling races, a personally escorted tour of the Nelson monument site, delicious refreshments, the stimulating competition in wagering, and the incomparable joy produced by the presence of the other, Darcy and Lizzy were glowing by the time they settled into the carriage.

  Lizzy promptly turned to her husband. “Now! Time to count the profits and see who the victor is.”

  Darcy laughed, but retrieved his money clip as Lizzy opened her reticule. Lizzy had been impishly secretive in her selections, insisting that Darcy stand away as she placed her bets so he “would not cheat.” Darcy, in turn, had feigned confusion and dismay with much frowning and chin scratching. In between the blatantly smug articulations and theatrical heavy sighs, they mutually reveled in taunting each other.

  Nonetheless, to Darcy's extreme pride, Lizzy calculated earnestly and won far more often than she lost. In the end, Darcy prevailed in their cordial competition, but by a mere four pounds.

  “Game well played, Elizabeth. I am very proud of you. You chose horses wisely and it paid off.”

  “Thank you, William, but you have triumphed fairly. Name your desired reward, sir, and it shall be granted.”

  “Hmm… What a difficult decision this is! What can I possibly desire from you? Let me think a bit.” He kept up the false musing all the way back to the resort, Lizzy sitting serenely beside him staring out the window as if wholly uninterested.

  It was nearly six when they arrived. Lizzy, strangely, was not at all fatigued. Darcy had observed her circumspectly all afternoon, ready to instantly depart if necessary. To his increased pleasure she appeared hale with a becoming rosiness to her cheeks and mischievous glimmer in her brown eyes. Naturally Darcy had no problem deciding what his reward would be, the plotting initiated with instructions to have dinner served in their room.

  Upon entering their chamber, windows open to admit the fresh evening breezes and everything cleaned perfectly, Lizzy walked to the middle and turned to await her husband. He stood silently by the shut door, watching her with a dreamily seductive smile on his lips. For a long while they stood apart, studying each other for the sheer pleasure of feasting hungry eyes. Slowly, with elegant poise, he floated toward her. Lizzy was breathless, already tremendously stirred from nothing but his brilliant azure eyes on her body and piercing her spirit.

  He paused inches away, not touching for several seconds, and then reaching leisurely to her hair and began removing clasps and pins. Each tendril fell into his hands, slipping through caressing fingers. He toyed with curly tresses, pulling them gently as if springs, releasing with infinite care one by one the secured clumps of hair until wildly free over her shoulders. He uttered not a word. Lizzy panted in short spurts, a hazy part of her brain wondering how he consistently found ways to excite her to unimaginable heights by the simplest tasks. Now he laced long, slender fingers through the roots of her hair, massaging firmly over her scalp from nape to crown, only then lifting the heavy locks off her neck and combing tenderly until tangles unraveled. A dozen times he repeated the activity with studied meticulousness. Her lustrous hair crackled through his fingers, the varied hues of brown glimmering in the light with lavender rising to assault his nostrils.

  Her eyes were closed in delight, hands clutching the edge of his jacket, and mouth parted. Mesmerized, he played lovingly with her chestnut mane as he scrutinized her expressions, groaning and briefly losing all control when the tiny tip of her moist tongue appeared to lick dry lips. He bent and kissed her unrestrained, tongue thrusting deeply, and hoarse moans caught in his throat. Blissful minutes passed, both succumbed to raging sensations. It was a singularly sharp squeeze to his derriere that jerked him to reality.

  “Elizabeth!” He gasped. “Wait, please. It is my reward owed, you recall? I have a plan.” He kissed to her ear, taking the lobe into his mouth for gently suckles. “We have hours and hours, best beloved. Trust me, we shall be satisfied.” He pulled away to meet her glazed eyes.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “I want you…”

  “You shall have me, lover,” he interrupted. “I can promise you that. All night, languidly and wholly I shall love you. This is my wish. Wait here.” He pecked her nose, smiled, and left for his dressing room.

  He returned quickly with a bundle in his hands, blushing faintly. “I brought this. It is my favorite. Will you wear it for me?”

  Lizzy laughed, recognizing what he held. “William, you truly are too cute. Of course I shall wear it.”

  When she later returned from her dressing room, her husband was garbed in a figure-hugging black chambray banyan with borders of sage green satin. He was bent over the cozy table in the corner, now laden with several covered trays, lit candles, two place settings, and a vase of roses. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a bucket nearby.

  “What is for dinner?” Darcy pivoted, eyes grazing his wife head to toe as a grin of purest lust gradually spread over his face.

  Approximately a month earlier Lizzy had woken with a pressing need to visit the water closet. It was nearly dawn, the faintest traces of light filtering through the curtains of their bedchamber. The room, however, was yet very dim and there was a slight chill to the air at odds with a Derbyshire morn in mid-August. Lizzy, naked as always and blessedly warm snuggled next to the inferno that was her spouse, had been struck by the cool room and blindly groped for the first garment she could find in the scattered piles of discarded clothing hastily tossed the previous evening. It was Darcy's shirt of finest spun silk with pearl buttons down the front. She drew it on, fastening the middle three buttons absently as she rushed from the room. Minutes later she returned, sleepily rubbing her face, and was brought up short by an audible gasp from the bed. Darcy lay propped on an elbow, eyes wide as he stared at her, an expression intimately familiar to her growing as was the evidence of his desire.

  “You are wearing my shirt,” he said unnecessarily, voice huskier than she had ever heard it and eyes aflame. “Come here.” It was a curt command uttered in a tone that brooked no argument, not that it occurred to Lizzy to do so. What followed was a session of lovemaking closely rivaling, if not transcending, anything prior. The shirt stayed on throughout. Since then he had politely requested of her to wear it twice, amusing Lizzy as she would happily grant him anything especially as they were mindlessly aroused each time for reasons that neither could articulate.

/>   The effect had not waned, Darcy now ogling with fists clenched at his sides. “Elizabeth Darcy, you are surpassingly sensual. Suddenly I am not certain how wise my request as I honestly do wish to proceed leisurely. God, how you tempt me!”

  She approached, running one hand over the satin border draping his muscular chest. “As you declared, William, we have all night. Much can transpire in that amount of time. Of course, you are the master of the evening as the winner of our wager. I am at your disposal.” The last muttered faintly against his lips while her hands moved freely over the quivering flesh of his torso.

  Forgotten was dinner and champagne. Forgotten were preconceived notions of lazy loving. In a burst of energy he clasped her bottom with both large hands, lifting bodily, and aided by her wrapping arms and legs about him. Swiftly they were at the bed where Darcy knelt with Lizzy yet entwined. He ran seeking hands roughly over the voluminous silk swathing her lithe frame, even the swell of their child not filling the space. Why seeing her encased in his shirt thrilled him so he could not say precisely. Partially it was the way it fell to the middle of her rounded thighs leaving her long shapely legs completely bared. Additionally the shoulder width was nearly twice hers so the gaping fabric displayed tantalizing glimpses of her collar and breasts. But primarily the reason was indefinable, Darcy only aware of a visceral surge of primal eroticism in the vision before his rapacious eyes.

  It was fortunate that Lizzy unerringly responded to her husband's miraculous touch with alacrity as Darcy was frenzied in his thirst for her, extended foreplay no longer an option. He captured her breasts through the fabric, suckling and squeezing while gently lowering her to the bed, pelvis pressing harshly against her. Practically ripping the robe off his body, Lizzy's hands instantly roving and trailing fire, he joined with her in a heated rush. They loved furiously, gazes acute and ensnared. Another protracted, consuming kiss ensued, ending when a harsh growl erupted from Darcy's chest.

  “Lizzy! I need to feel all of you! Oh Lord, I love you so!” His voice faded into unintelligible articulations of glory as they plunged over the edge, blissfully united in their pleasure.

  He collapsed into a slump, instinctively avoiding crushing her belly as his upper body fell to the side over her thigh. Gradually he peered up at her shining face, brown eyes slitted as she watched him and lazily played with his hair. “I love how you call me 'Lizzy' in your rapture.”

  “Would you rather I call you 'Lizzy' all the time?” His voice was yet harsh, naturally resonant tones always deeper in passion. Their son was rolling and kicking as he often did after they made love, Darcy absently chasing the movements with a hand.

  “No. 'Elizabeth' is somehow proper coming from you, and I adore how your voice caresses my name every time. You never address me that it is not bathed with adoration and sensuality. You always have, if only I had had the ears to hear it. 'Lizzy' is uttered when you are completely undone, hence why I love it.” She stroked over his perfect nose, resting on the dimple in his chin. “I love you, William.”

  He rolled, lying next to her and encasing her in strong arms. He did not speak for a bit, caressing tenderly and kissing through her hair. Finally, “I love you, Elizabeth. My Elizabeth, my wife.”

  After a time of cuddling and brushing kisses, she unexpectedly giggled, looking up into his eyes. “Well, now that we have that out of the way, perhaps we can proceed with the leisurely unfolding of the evening as you requested for your victory over me. Starting with dinner, as I now have heightened my appetite.”

  “I shall never consider making love with you as something to get 'out of the way'; however, food does sound appealing.” He fingered the edge of his shirt where it lay over her thigh. “You will keep this on for me, dearest?”

  “What if I become cold?”

  “I shall start a fire.”

  “If I spill on it?”

  “It can be cleaned.”

  “It is rather large, William. It may fall right off my shoulder into the plate!”

  “You are filling it out better, Elizabeth, so I daresay that will not happen.”

  “It has a strange effect on your senses, love. Can you control yourself throughout the meal?”

  “I shall endeavor to be a good boy; however, I seriously doubt you would argue terribly if I fail.”

  “Awfully confident you are, sir! Smug and arrogant.”

  “Yes I am, and I can tell by your expression that you are neither shocked nor dismayed. Shall I prove my conceit, my lover, or do we leave the bed for nourishment first?” He accented the challenge with a firm caress over one round swelling buttock, fingers probing, and grin wide.

  Lizzy squirmed from his grasp, both laughing. Planting a glancing kiss to his lips, she stood, grasping his hands and tugging. “Come, love. Let me feed you before you faint.”

  Chapter Eight

  Just Desserts

  The afternoon following their Yarmouth excursion found them again reclining under the umbrella on the sand. Darcy read aloud while Lizzy sewed another baby garment. Caught up in their tasks, with the now familiar sounds and smells of the ocean washing through their subconscious, neither noted the servant approaching until he spoke.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy. These just arrived for you and here is today's London Times as you requested.” He held a twine-wrapped bundle of parchment and folded newspaper in his hand, handing them to Darcy.

  “Letters from home,” he murmured. “Mr. Keith with updates. A letter from Georgie, one from Bingley, your mother, and Mrs. Lathrop.” The latter two were taken by Lizzy, who opened Amelia's first.

  Minutes passed in silent reading, Lizzy breaking the quiet first with a happy shout.

  “Amelia delivered a girl!”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Darcy smiled with true feelings of joy, instantly thinking of Stephen while simultaneously imagining his own emotions when the time came. “Did all proceed smoothly? Mrs. Lathrop is well?”

  “The baby was born three weeks ago now. They named her Fiona Heather. Amelia says she resembles Stephen, but has her green eyes. Oh, what a wonder!” Lizzy sighed, reading on with a smile.

  “The birth… Does she speak of it?”

  Lizzy glanced over to see him serious with a hint of anxiety in his pale eyes. She squeezed his hand, smiling tenderly. “She is well, love. The birth was long, she writes, as is expected, but there were no complications. Do not worry so, William. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

  He pressed his lips tightly together, jaw clenching, but he nodded and returned to his letter. At odd moments as the weeks advanced, Darcy would find his thoughts dwelling on the final birth process and possible emergencies. Lizzy was healthy and very strong, as was their child by all indications, but he knew well from stories and family traumas how horribly wrong it could end. The thought of losing their baby terrified him, but not nearly as much as losing Elizabeth.

  A deep sigh from his wife interrupted the threatening stabs of fear. “I miss Amelia. I wish I could see her and the baby. Who knows when we will be able to travel again between winter and infants to care for?”

  “We could visit on our way home, if you wish. Leicestershire is not far out of the way, and I am certain they would not mind.”

  “Could we? Oh, William! That would be so wonderful! You are brilliant and far too good to me.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “Thank you, dear, but I was only thinking of myself as Lathrop is the best billiard player after Hughes that I know.” He picked up Mr. Keith's missive, feigning indifference while Lizzy chuckled.

  Mr. Keith's letter was brief, stating that all was well with harvest beginning as usual, sheep being prepared for market, and the horses all responding according to the breeding plans. Georgiana delivered a rambling dissertation of her adventures sans any mention of Lord Gruffudd now that they had left his vicinity of Wales, to Darcy's mumbled pleasure. His uncle had included a short paragraph stating that they expected to return by the second week of September. M
rs. Bennet gave a typically detailed commentary of the local gossip, some of which actually interested Lizzy, noting in passing that Mr. Bennet and Kitty were well. Charles declared that all was in hand with the plans for relocation, the actual move to take place mid-October.

  After the letters were read and shared, Darcy turned to the newspaper. Even on holiday he could not eschew keeping abreast of current events and business affairs. This compulsion was not only due to years of habit but also an obligation related to his station and influence.

  “Ah! Look here, love. An entire article on Miss van Lingen landing her balloon on Hampstead Heath. She landed safely, not precisely where she planned to in the vastness of the park, but close enough that the awaiting spectators and reporters could relocate. Excellent!”

  That evening they dined with a company of guests. The food was excellent, as always, and the lively conversation enjoyable, especially to Lizzy. Darcy was reserved, as was typical, his contributions limited and mostly confined to discussions of politics with a new resident of the inn, a barrister named Spade, who sat next to him. Lady Underwood was dining as well, but thankfully for Darcy, sat at another table. Nonetheless, he was uncomfortable, her presence and noisy laugh constantly reminding him of events he wanted to forget.

  After dinner scheduled entertainment was a chess tournament for the men, although two brave women insisted on playing, and a fashion exhibit for the ladies. Darcy nervously separated from his wife, unable to resist casting a cold, warning glance toward Lady Underwood. She smiled benignly, her eyes hard. Darcy's irritation and trepidation increased, but there was nothing he could do.

  Three modistes from Yarmouth brought living models to show the latest styles from abroad. It was wonderful fun with tea and refreshments offered, animated banter, and many of the accessories available for purchase.