Clarke had his nightshirt and a dressing gown laid upon the bed when he entered his chamber. His valet said little, as was his wont, but took Darcy’s clothing as he shed each piece until the time came to remove his shirt. Putting the garment on had not been a comfortable endeavour. Was it necessary to remove it?
Clarke returned from the dressing room. “Sir, if you will bend some at the waist, letting your arms hang, I can gently pull it over your head and perhaps we can slide it down your arms without moving your shoulder more than necessary.”
“How did you know?”
He lifted his chin so Clarke could untie the top. “I have never seen you appear wary at my entrance, but you did so when I returned just now. I assisted Mr. Baines as he treated the wound. I am certain it is painful.” Darcy straightened and clamped down on his jaw. “Would you care for a brandy before we make an attempt?”
His hand rubbed the back of his neck. “No, I do not wish to be in my cups when I return to my wife.”
His hands tightened to fists and released as he took in a bracing breath and blew it hard out of his mouth. After one more, he leaned forward. Clarke drew the shirt up under his arms, shifted to grasp the hem, and began to manoeuver it over Darcy’s head. Aside from the lancing pain that shot through his shoulder when he let his arms hang forward and the increase in the throbbing while they remained in such a position, the procedure was effective.
“Sir?”
“It was not as bad as I expected.” The nightshirt caught his eye. “But, I shall not put myself through the torture of donning more than my dressing gown.”
“Mr. Baines left laudanum should you—”
“No, thank you. Should sleep not come, I might welcome a few drops, but you know I have no preference for that particular remedy.”
Clarke slipped the sleeve of the dressing gown up his sore arm. “I thought I would mention it.”
Once the robe was over his shoulders, he tied the belt. “I appreciate the offer, but my wife has requested willow bark tea to be delivered to our sitting room. I shall ring when I require you in the morning.”
“Very good, sir.”
Darcy closed the door behind him and took a seat before the fire. The tea service was placed on the table, but he stretched his legs in front of him, staring into the flames. A click stirred him from his occupation, and he gawked as a vision made her way beside him.
“You should have poured your cup. It is much better when it is hot.” She took a seat beside him, but his eye was drawn to where her dressing gown gaped open as she leaned to pour them each a serving. Her trousseau was still being made, so what was beneath her robe?
He took a sip of the cup she handed him and struggled to swallow. Gah! It was vile!
“Sugar might help the bitterness.” She giggled as he poured some cream into the cup to cool it and then gulped it down.
Elizabeth took a bit longer, but when she finished, he took the cup and placed it on the tray. Her head rested upon his chest as he kept her wrapped in his good arm. He had no wish to disturb her before they retired, but because the disclosure was necessary, he told her about Lady Althea.
Unable to resist, he ran his fingers in the barest of touches down her arm as he spoke. She asked questions here and there, but at some point, her body grew heavier against his side.
He nuzzled the top of her head with his lips. “Elizabeth?”
After no response, he placed a finger under her chin to lift her face, but before he could see her eyes, she murmured and shifted, curling into his side and her face tilting back against his shoulder.
Her eyes were closed and her breaths deep and even. She had fallen asleep. Now, how was he going to get her to bed?
Chapter 28
Elizabeth woke with a start. What was that noise? Despite the current silence, her heart thrummed against her sternum—no doubt due to the combination of her abrupt awakening and the nightmare she had been having. A moment later the sound resumed from the direction of the fireplace, and she settled back into the mattress. The scullery maid had entered to replenish the fire. One day she would again sleep without waking in such an abrupt fashion at every noise. That dream where she relived the events of Bond Street would hopefully fade as well.
While her eyes became accustomed to the minimal amount of light within the bed curtains, she ran her hand along her husband’s arm, which was draped over her stomach, then rolled with care in his embrace. After a se’nnight, his shoulder, while improved, was still painful, and she had no wish to jar his wound.
A gentle finger brushed a curl from his temple as she kissed his forehead. He was cool to the touch, thank goodness. With a rough breath, he shifted as she drew back and relaxed.
Since the injury, he had remained warm for several days, though never enough to concern Mr. Baines, who after checking his wound saw no signs of infection. She and Georgiana, on the other hand, were in a near constant state of nerves. Georgiana even returned to Darcy House on a permanent basis to keep abreast of her brother’s condition and to be nearby in the event he worsened. They were thankful he never did.
The fever, of sorts, may not have been present for the last two days, but Elizabeth reassured herself often of his continued recovery. He knew what she was about, but since she used her lips to confirm his health, he tolerated her kisses and cosseting without complaint. He even requested she be certain he was in good health more and more as the days passed.
His hand tightened upon her back, and he groaned. Blue eyes appeared between lazy eyelids, which opened just enough to see her before him, and closed once more. “Are you certain I have no fever, my love?”
She lightly slapped his forearm at her waist. “If you must know, I kissed your forehead but a few minutes ago. You are not the slightest bit warm.”
His lips curved into a wicked smile. “You can never be too careful. I think several touches of your lips are required to be absolutely positive of your initial determination.”
“You are incorrigible.”
He pulled her closer, pressing her hips to his. “We have done naught but sleep in this bed since we were married. I have submitted to each examination by Mr. Baines as you insisted, and still we have not—”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy!” She gave an incredulous exclamation at his pouting bottom lip. “As you are well aware, I had no intention of falling asleep on our wedding night! Let us also not forget that you did take a touch of laudanum the next few evenings while the pain in your shoulder was at its worst.”
At his low rumble of a laugh, she sat and propped herself over him with one arm. How dare he laugh! “You—”
Before another word could be hurled in his direction, his hand cupped the back of her head to pull her down for a demanding kiss, but she pushed herself away with a palm to his chest. “You were trying to make me angry.”
“I confess I was. Now, save your breath and put those lips to better use. Kiss me.”
He claimed her lips again, his tongue sneaking in as she gasped against his mouth. He was insufferable. He was hers, however, and she would have it no other way. His good arm dragged her atop him, his touch branding her thigh where her shift had risen to her hips.
His deep moan vibrated against her chest and her heartbeat quickened. Nimble fingers threaded into her hair and a moment later, her plait was no more as her curls cascaded down around their faces.
He opened his eyes and stared while he brushed the tendrils from her face with one hand. “You are so lovely. You have the most expressive eyes I have ever seen. Did you know?”
She shook her head. “They are a simple hazel.”
He bestowed a gentle kiss to each of her eyelids. “There is nothing simple about your eyes. They show every emotion in your heart, and when you are frustrated or angry, they become more vibrant.” His hands cradled her face. “I love you, Elizabeth.”
“I love you, too.” Her voice came as a hoarse whisper. When he wished, he could express himself well—better than well. His wo
rds touched her.
She leaned down and caressed his lips with hers. He pulled her shift to her waist. “May I?”
Her body froze. “You want to remove it?”
“I would, but only if you are comfortable.”
She was not at ease, by any means, yet her trust in him was absolute. How could she not comply with his request? With uncooperative fingers, she untied the ribbon at her chest and rose to pull it over her head. How could she watch when he saw her unclothed? Butterflies frolicked in her chest and stomach, yet she managed to hold his steady gaze as he stroked up her leg and around her hip, his eyes never leaving hers. His touch left a burning sensation in its wake and she exhaled a shaky breath.
“You are beautiful.”
Her laugh was husky and odd to her own ears. “You have not looked beyond my face.”
He rose to a seated position and took her in his embrace. “All of you is beautiful, Elizabeth, but what is in here,” he placed his palm over her heart, “is what draws me to you most. It is why I love you and want to be near you.” His eyes grazed down her front before returning to her face. “Your body and looks are all that is pleasing, but what makes you stunning is the woman inside.”
Her vision blurred. She had loved him at the Netherfield ball, yet her feelings had increased since then. How did he always find the words to further bind her heart to his? With more confidence than before, she brushed his top lip and then the bottom with hers.
He returned the gesture, but did not move otherwise. She opened her eyes and gazed at his face. His eyes remained closed, his long, dark eyelashes lining the lower edge. Could he be waiting for her?
Before his eyes could open, she kissed him without restraint, dipping her tongue inside his mouth to touch his. With her bold move, he was no longer the passive lover. His hands stroked over her back, buttocks, and thighs without ceasing as she pressed herself flush to his chest.
She gripped the soft silk of his dressing gown. Would he care if she touched him as he did her? Without warning, he sank back and rolled atop her, hissing in the process.
“Your shoulder?”
His coarse chin scraped against her cheek as he nodded. “I forgot for a moment.” He shifted above her, using his good arm for leverage until his set jaw relaxed.
After brushing his nose against hers and trailing it down her cheek, Fitzwilliam nuzzled her ear and ran his lips down her neck, the heat from his breath radiating throughout her body.
“Remove my dressing gown.”
Her hands, which were clenching the fabric in her fists, were supposed to untie the belt? She could scarcely think, much less make her fingers cooperate! Her incessant trembling slowed the process as she shifted and worked the knot until it loosened and came free.
“Elizabeth.”
Her gaze moved from where she held the silk sash to his beloved face. His eyes conveyed such warmth and affection. How could she be so anxious when he loved her as he did? He would suffer injury or death rather than allow her to be harmed; he had done so that day on Bond Street, had he not?
She shifted the front panels to bare him, treading slowly when his injury could be jostled. Once the garment was removed, she flung it away. Broad shoulders and a muscled chest were the first of his attributes to come into view as her fingertips traced from his neck to the dark patch of hair upon his chest.
He pressed her palm flush to his skin and shifted her hand around his side to his back. “I am yours Elizabeth, as much as you are mine.”
He kissed her as he ground his pelvis into hers. She whimpered and her breath began to come in short pants. Why did she feel as though she had been running, and when had her legs lifted to cradle him? His hips shifted down as he lifted hers to press firm against him. She could not think. She could barely breathe! He was so close, yet he was not close enough!
Rap, rap, rap! What was that?
His lips trailed down the centre of her chest, kissing the side of each breast until he reached her belly where he nuzzled and licked her flesh as her fingers clenched the soft hair upon his head. His tongue dipped into her navel while his eyes remained fixed upon hers.
Rap, rap, rap!
With a growl, he lifted his head. “I said we were not to be disturbed! We will call when you are required!”
His lips skimmed her skin, working his way back towards her head.
“Sir, I would not have awakened you, except Colonel Fitzwilliam is awaiting you in the drawing room! He indicated it is important!”
Fitzwilliam glanced outside the bed curtains and moaned. “What business requires him to appear on our doorstep at such an indecent hour? The sun is not even in the sky. He has lived in society long enough to know London hours and what the absence of a knocker indicates.”
“Yet, you are the one who gave him permission to call if he had news of some import.”
His forehead dropped to her stomach with a great exhale of air. She threaded his curls through her fingers as he shifted to rest his chin upon her chest. His eyes met hers and held her gaze. “He can have nothing which needs to be resolved at this time of morning.” He lifted himself onto his good arm. “Please show my cousin to the dining room and serve him whatever he wishes! I shall attend him when I can.”
“Fitzwilliam!” A giggle erupted from her lips. “You cannot make him wait!”
“Why not? He is the one who chose to call at this ungodly hour.” Before she could retort, he ensured her silence with a passionate kiss. “I have waited this long to love you, and I intend to finish what we have started.”
“You cannot mean…”
Her husband’s lips to her mouth again prevented her argument and were quite convincing with their persuasion. Soon, Elizabeth could not have cared less whether the colonel waited for days or weeks! Her husband shifted to kiss her collarbone. When he glanced up, a wicked grin adorned his face as he disappeared under the coverlet. As her eyes rolled back and her eyelids pressed closed, her mind became a muddle. Who was waiting in the drawing room?
Elizabeth hummed while Lucy placed the last few pins upon her head.
“Will that suit, ma’am?”
She turned her head a bit to each side. “’Tis lovely, Lucy.”
With a satisfied smile, her maid lifted Elizabeth’s breakfast tray from a nearby table. “Will you be needing anything else, Mrs. Darcy?”
Elizabeth stood while she studied herself in the mirror. “No, thank you.”
She toyed with the pleats upon the waist of her gown and trailed her fingers along the edge of her bodice. Fitzwilliam left no marks this time—at least not where anyone could see them; her gown hid any evidence of their morning’s activities.
He threw off the coverlet. “’Tis too warm!” He resumed his place on his stomach and reached to lace his fingers with hers.
Lord, how she ached for him to touch her again! Her other hand still clenched the bedclothes with white knuckles as her pulse echoed in her ears. He was going to continue, was he not?
His teeth scraped the inside of her thigh and her body clenched. Oh, please!
She lifted her head as he shifted. At the first touch of his tongue, her head dropped back to the pillow, her back arched off the mattress, and her toes curled.
She bit her lip as her cheeks burned. A book! A book was just what she required to distract her.
A volume of poetry her husband recommended soon was held in her grasp as she moved to their sitting room. She opened the cover, flipped a few pages to the beginning, and stared into the fire until a knock distracted her.
“Come in!” She glanced at the clock. An hour? She had been wool gathering for an hour?
The door opened a fraction and Georgiana’s face peeked inside. “Do you mind company?”
Blinking rapidly in an attempt to focus, she waved her new sister into the room. “Not at all.” Elizabeth closed the book. She had no need for a ribbon since she had not read more than the first few words.
“I do not mean to disturb you.”
“Georgiana, I decided to read until I knew you were awake. Please ring the bell so we can order tea and sit down.”
Once she tugged at the cord, Georgiana sat upon the sofa and tucked her feet under her. “I have been in the music room for a while now. I had not realized how much I missed home until I returned. I cannot wait to depart for Pemberley. I have missed it the most!”
A maid entered, and once tea was requested, she departed swiftly.
“Your brother and I spoke of Pemberley last night. We made the decision to forego this season and spend the time in Derbyshire in its stead. Gossip abounds from the incident on Bond Street, and we have no desire for spectators when we attend the theatre or a ball. Your brother wishes to return home, and so do I for that matter. Another scandal will have interested the ton by the time we are next in London. We may get some stares, but not like the present interest should we remain.”
Georgiana clasped her hands together. “I cannot wait for you to see Pemberley. My brother speaks with fondness of our home, but it is so much more than can be described.”
“It does sound a magical place.”
“I have anticipated returning for so long.” Georgiana gazed at the window. “Since Ramsgate, I have wanted nothing more than to be home.”
“Your brother requires until the end of the week to settle his affairs and for us to attend Anne’s wedding. Saturday morning, we shall travel to Hertfordshire; Mr. Bingley has loaned us the use of Netherfield where we will remain until Monday morning when we continue on to Derbyshire.”
“Will we be in company with your family?”
“We will visit a short time on Saturday, attend church with them on Sunday, and my mother will insist upon us dining at Longbourn after services. Longbourn chapel is small by comparison to the church here, and you are familiar with my family—”
Particular Intentions Page 31
