by Delaney Jane
He mumbled into her skin. “Mine… my Lizzy…”
She burned with need, arching her back, taking him deeper. She was his, no matter what happened, she would always be his.
He smacked her ass, his hips smacking against her with a deliciously naughty sound.
Her orgasm was coming, her body tightening around him. He felt it and smacked her ass again and again, fucking her and rubbing her between the legs. It took her so hard her knees buckled. She held onto the dresser, her mouth opening on a scream. Darcy slapped a hand over her mouth, silencing her.
It seemed to go on and on, leaving her weak and shaking. Realizing she finished, Darcy wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, and slammed into her so hard and fast that he barely came out of her.
She watched him in the mirror, his eyes on her as his cock swelled. Feeling bold, she held his gaze and said, “Come for me, Darcy. Show me I’m yours.”
He growled, squeezing her tight against him as he pumped into her, filling her with his hot seed. He pressed his head against her back, breathing hard. They remained that way for a time until he became soft inside her.
When he pulled out, he turned her in his arms, kissing her softly, tenderly. She shivered at the touch.
The sun was coming up before they finally fell asleep, opting instead to clean each other with washcloths and the cooled bath water. This led to him kneeling before her and taking her with his mouth. She returned the favor, in front of the window, sucking him with his fingers in her hair until he filled her mouth.
Elizabeth awoke in Darcy’s arms, the rising sun warm on her face, and someone pounding at the door.
She froze, Darcy stiffening behind her. Neither spoke as he jumped from the bed and hid behind the changing wall by the tub. Lizzy threw on a robe and opened the door.
“Lizzy,” panted her aunt, brandishing a letter, her hair a mess. “We must go, right away. Your father has written with grave news.” She paused to catch her breath.
Lizzy, thinking the worst, grasped her aunt’s arms. “What is it?” she snapped.
“Your dear sister Lydia has run off with Mr. Wickham,” she whispered, stricken.
Elizabeth went cold. She released her aunt. “I… I will be down in a moment.”
“Oh, do hurry, your mother is in a state.”
Mrs. Gardiner left her to get dressed and packed. Lizzy stood before the open door, staring at the empty hallway. The door closed and Mr. Darcy was beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging Lizzy close.
She melted into his strength, breathing in the scent of him. This was it. Her family was ruined and Mr. Darcy would never, not in his right mind, want her now.
Holding onto him, Lizzy prolonged the moment before the hug would end, thinking back to the day he had proposed, and wishing with all her heart, that she had said yes.
Chapter Eighteen
The Fury of Mr. Darcy
George Wickham sent Lydia’s silly family on a goose chase. He went farther up, toward Scotland, and then back down, deeper into England. They would never find him, not unless he wanted to be found, and there was only one person with whom he would speak.
They were stopped in a tavern for lunch, spending most of what was left to Wickham’s name, when a horseman came thundering down the road.
Wickham watched the man reign in his horse outside and make his way to the door.
“We’re finished,” said Wickham, and he took Lydia’s hand, pulling her toward another exit. The thrill of the chase had left him as soon as he saw the fury in Darcy’s eyes.
He made it outside, to their carriage parked at the end of the lot, when Darcy caught up with them.
Darcy gave him no warning, but grabbed him by the jacket and slammed him against the side of the carriage.
Lydia screamed and beat her fists against Darcy, but he ignored her.
Fury burned in Darcy’s eyes as he glared at Wickham.
“Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done?”
Wickham just glanced behind Darcy. “We could speak someplace more private.”
Darcy did not grant him the pleasure of getting a room above the tavern, but opened the carriage door and shoved Wickham inside. He gave Lydia a pointed look, and she stomped in after him. Darcy sat across from them, pulling the curtains. It was light enough outside that they could still see.
“Explain yourselves,” Darcy growled.
Lydia, clutching Wickham, said, “I love him! And we’re to marry!”
Wickham, to his credit, did not laugh, but Darcy saw the smirk that he could not hide fast enough.
Darcy opened the door again. “Out,” he told Lydia.
“I will not be ordered—”
Darcy took her by the arm and hauled her out of the carriage, set her down, and slammed the door in her face. She yelled and hit the door.
“I said, explain,” said Darcy.
Alone with him, Wickham swallowed hard. “I’ve missed you.”
“Cut the horseshit. Were you trying to fuck with me? Is that why you ran away with an innocent young woman? A girl?”
“Not just any woman. A Bennet.”
Wickham paid sorely for his snark. Darcy punched him so hard in the jaw that his head snapped back.
Feeling reckless, Wickham lunged at Darcy, but Darcy was quicker and stronger. He had Wickham pinned in an instant.
“You did this to hurt Elizabeth.” A statement, not a question, but Wickham nodded anyway. Darcy slammed him down on the floor, kneeling above him. “You knew about Lizzy and I?”
Wickham smiled. He could feel a bruise forming under his jaw. “It’s not hard to recognize your other lovers. We all have this stricken look about us.”
Darcy glared. “You would hurt Elizabeth because of your hurt pride? Do not tell me you loved me. You did not. You’re pissed that you have no money and I won’t give you any. And you would fuck the sister of the woman I—of a woman in my life.”
Wickham did not miss the hesitation, but chose to ignore it.
“I did not fuck Lydia.”
“You may as well have,” Darcy growled, getting in Wickham’s face. “She will be ruined.”
Wickham met Darcy’s fiery gaze with his own icy stare.
“I know.”
For a moment Darcy only glared down at him, and then he stood, yanking Wickham up by the jacket, and shoving him into the opposite seat.
“You will marry that girl.”
“I will not.”
Darcy went on. “And I will pay for lodgings for a year. You will save that girl’s name or you will not live to see another year.”
“You would kill me over this? Over a woman you fuck?”
Darcy was trying to reign in his temper; Wickham could see it. But he had not slid the knife in deep enough. Darcy still seemed to think he was the one with the power.
Wickham leaned back, his jaw aching. “I could marry Lydia. I could attempt to save her family’s name. And I could accept the pocket cash you would throw at me to make this all go away, but what if my money runs out? How will I remember to keep quiet about Lizzy?”
Darcy’s glare turned to ice. Wickham hid his shiver.
“You won’t say a fucking word against Elizabeth. Do you understand?”
Despite his near shitting himself in fear, Wickham went on, enjoying this power over Darcy.
“It would be much more gentlemanly of my to ensure the lady is not tangled in your web a moment longer. I know how painful the end can be.”
“You caused our end,” snarled Darcy.
“Yes, but I never asked you to cut me out of your life completely! I thought I was your lover. Was I not allowed to have other lovers? Did you not have others?”
“Not while you were mine, no. Not while Lizzy is…”
Wickham hadn’t really thought Darcy had had other lovers, but it was worth a shot, and to see him deflate like that over a woman was so wonderful.
“If I am to be a husband, I will need
my debts paid.”
“Done.”
“And I would like to move up in the regiment. And officer would be nice.”
“Do well and you will move up.”
“I’d prefer it sooner.”
Darcy’s face turned to stone, leaving not a window of emotion. “I will pay your debts and purchase you an officer’s commission. You will marry Lydia Bennet and keep Lizzy’s secret. This is our agreement?”
“It is.”
“Fine.”
Wickham thought he should feel like he had won, but it didn’t quite feel that way at all. Darcy opened the door and stepped out into the sun. Wickham followed, but froze as soon as he saw who was outside.
Mrs. Gardiner had taken Lydia to a carriage nearer to the tavern, but Mr. Gardiner stood before Wickham bristling. He was a large man, and when his fist connected with Wickham’s face, he thought he knocked his head clean off.
Wickham fell against the carriage, stars popping before his eyes. Mr. Gardiner was in his face a moment later.
“That agreement will not go on paper, but I assure you, I take your verbal oath as your bond. You break it and I will destroy you. Understand, boy?”
Wickham, nodded, blinking his sight back to normal. Mr. Gardiner stood again.
“Not a word of this to anyone,” he growled. And then he stormed toward his wife and niece.
Darcy stood where he was, his eyes cast into the dirt. Wickham caught his breath.
“Do you love her?”
He knew he would get no answer, but he did flinch when Darcy took a step toward him before turning and getting on his horse.
Lydia rushed to Wickham and threw her arms around him. He was to be married.
Chapter Nineteen
A Meeting of Three
He readily assured her of his secrecy – again expressed his sorrow for her distress, wished it a happier conclusion than there was at present to hope, and leaving his compliments for her relations, with only one serious, parting, look, went away. As he quitted the room, Elizabeth felt how probable it was that they should never see each other.
Lizzy sat at the table staring down her morning eggs and toast as though they had somehow wronged her. Around her, the Bennet family ate or, like Lizzy, didn’t eat. Mrs. Bennet chatted merrily, drinking her coffee and eating bacon as though she hadn’t just spent several days in bed worrying over her runaway daughter. No, all was well now because that daughter now sat at their table with her new husband.
“Elizabeth, will you pass the jam?” Mr. Wickham’s voice cut through Lizzy, driving into her stomach like an ax.
She glared at him. He gave her what she had once thought a winning smile, his palm open for the glass jar of yellow jam. She dearly wished to slam the jar into his eye socket, but as she was not prone to violence, she simply dropped the jam jar into his hand and went back to her scowling.
To her disgust this morning, after having taken a seat at the table, in a spot where she had been sure to keep out of all conversation, Wickham had come in, beaming and looking like a man who had spent the night being thoroughly fucked by his wife, and sat beside Lizzy.
She’d had to spend the entire breakfast next to him, eyeing knives and wondering how quickly she could remove his cock with only a butter knife.
No one seemed to notice her animosity. On the contrary, everyone seemed absolutely delighted that Lydia and Wickham were here. Everyone except for Mr. Bennet, but he never seemed pleased with anything.
“Oh, my dears,” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, “I so wish I could have been at the wedding! Tell me again, what color flowers did you wear in your hair?”
And then Lydia launched into a detailed account of her wedding day. Lizzy suspected that much of it were lies. She had told Jane and Lizzy about her wedding the morning after her arrival at Longbourn and after she revealed that Mr. Darcy had been at the church, Lizzy had written to Mrs. Gardiner and found out that, not only was he at the church, he had been the one to find the couple and paid the treacherous Mr. Wickham off!
It was only because of Darcy that her family’s name hadn’t been dragged down into the mud and destroyed.
While her aunt was convinced that there was some romantic reason for Darcy intervening, Lizzy was not so stupid. She was certain he had done it to keep Wickham quiet. There was plenty in their past together that Darcy wouldn’t want revealed to the public, such as Wickham’s time spent as Darcy’s lover and then his attempt to elope with the young Georgiana. There was enough scandal in Wickham to make any man want to pay a hefty sum for his silence.
Still, it had been nice for a moment to imagine Darcy had done it for her. It would not have lasted long even if she hadn’t spoken with Wickham last night. Spoken was too kind a word for what he had done.
She’d endured an entire day with the happy couple, the morning with a gushing Lydia, and an afternoon walk all together. Last night, Lizzy, unable to sleep and none of her books helping ease her mind, set off to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She had padded barefoot through the house, a shawl thrown over her nightdress, and a candle in hand.
Lydia and Wickham were staying in the guest room since she used to share a room with Kitty and that would have been indecent to have them stay with her. And, the guest room was smaller, and Lizzy was sure that Mr. Bennet wanted them nearest the stables so that the smell would waft through their open windows.
Lizzy slipped past the quiet guest room, it being nearly two in the morning, and found her way through the dark to the kitchen. The coals in the fire glowed red, waiting for a stirring and some wood for breakfast. Just as she had been about to pick up the fire poker, he spoke from the shadows behind her.
“She’s nothing like you.”
Terrified beyond making noise, Elizabeth whirled around, hand at her throat, and found Mr. Wickham coming into the kitchen in no more than a pair of breeches and an open shirt. Moonlight shined through the windows here, illuminating the space far better than her little candle.
He smiled at her as he closed the distance between them slowly. “I had thought she would be more like you. It was why I agreed to marry her.”
With her heart rate returning to normal, Lizzy was able to glare at him once more. “Really?” said she. “I thought it was for the money Mr. Darcy paid you.”
To her astonishment, his cheeks colored. “Well, it is not nearly what I’m owed by him, but if I am to take a wife, I need money to support her. Especially one as… fashionable as your sister.”
She would not deny Lydia’s materialistic desires and did not envy him that burden, but she would not let him turn this away from him and what he had done.
“Darcy owes you nothing,” she said coolly.
He studied her a moment. “From what I have heard,” said he, giving her a sideways look. “You know Darcy well enough that he has told you what happened between us.”
Now it was her turn to blush. She did not answer him.
Those intense blue eyes pierced her. “I hope you have not let yourself fall in love with him, Elizabeth.”
She bared her teeth at him. “You don’t know anything.”
“I know you have feelings for him, but he will never have you. You are not high born and he is. He may let you warm his bed, but he cannot love you back. Believe me, I know.”
He spoke with such sincerity that she almost believed him, felt for him. But he was a scoundrel and a liar.
“We spoke,” said he. “At length about your desire to remain unmarried unless it was for true love. But, if you have found yourself in Darcy’s bed, then I can only assume your appetites are such that a life alone would not appease you.” He took a step toward her, fingers grazing her cheek. “Come and stay with Lydia and me. Get out of this crowded home and help me keep your sister in check.”
She glared at him. “And what?” she spat. “Warm your bed when Lydia is out shopping?”
He smiled sheepishly, pressing his palm to her cheek, seemingly unaware of the hatred rolling off of her.
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“I can assure you that I would keep you pleased.” He bent, his lips coming so fast that he managed to brush them against her own, before she yanked her head away and slapped him. The sound echoed off the walls.
She gritted her teeth. “You are a pig. If you hurt my sister in any way, I will make sure you are sorry.”
Before he could say another word, she had stormed from the kitchen and back to her room. She did not fall asleep for several more hours and then woke with the rooster.
Sitting beside him all through breakfast had taken all of her will not to harm him. The sooner they left, the happier Lizzy would be. While his actions toward her had been despicable, they were expected in a way. He was a pig.
But it was his words about Darcy that had kept her up last night staring into the darkness outside her window.
He was right, she knew that, but she could not accept it. Darcy would never have her, not since she had turned him down so cruelly months ago, not since Lydia had gone and tarnished their family’s name, not since he was a proud, rich man, and she was a woman of little income who would never be the sort of wife that a gentleman introduces to his family and respectable friends.
She could be his mistress. That was all he would give her. A place in his bed until the day he found a wife, and then where would she go?
As she stood in the doorway watching Mr. Wickham take her young sister away, the warm spring sunshine filling the front garden with dappled sunlight, she knew, with a sinking feeling in her stomach, that she must let Darcy go.
It was because of this decision that when, a week after Wickham and Lydia had left, Elizabeth felt her world slip from under her.
Jane, beaming, showed them all a letter their father had received from Mr. Bingley saying he would be staying at Netherfield for a few weeks and would like to come to the Bennet’s for dinner.
That was not what had Lizzy out of breath and shaking. No, for that she was happy. Jane would have time with Bingley. It was the day after the letter arrived and Bingley showed up… with Darcy.
