Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

lean and healthy, he was content. He certainly had been told he was handsome on many occasions, yet had assumed it was more a response to his wealth and station. No woman had ever seen his unclothed flesh, so he truly had not known what to anticipate. In these past two days of loving his wife and monitoring her reactions, he had recognized that her entrancement with his body was as profound as his was with hers. The surge of pride he felt was as much for his own ego as for his wish to please her.

Lizzy looked into his intense blue eyes and smiled shyly, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks as she continued her tactile investigation of his chest. “You endlessly chronicle how beautiful you find me,” she said quietly. “I have been too bashful to verbalize the same.” She paused as she stepped closer, holding his eyes with hers. “You are… stunning, Fitzwilliam. Hard and yet tender. Graceful and powerful. So invigorating, breathtakingly handsome and desirable to me. I love your heart and your soul, and will for all eternity, no matter what your appearance. However, I cannot deny the awesome effect your physical being has on my senses.” She finished her earnest speech by wrapping her arms about his waist, hands pressing into his back as she squeezed herself against him, hungrily seeking his mouth.

“My Lizzy,” he breathed as he kissed her. He held her tightly to him, caressing her back through her gown. His hands roamed all over her, removing his robe from her shoulders first, then slowly peeling the gauzy gown up and over her head as he stroked her satiny flesh. She shivered with delight, fire and ice piercing each nerve ending he touched.

He picked her up then, carrying her to their bed. “Elizabeth, my darling wife,” he whispered as he kissed the sensitive flesh behind her ear, “You are utterly miraculous, enthralling, bewitching, and so incredibly sensuous. You drive me wild with desire!”

His magic hands were everywhere at once, propelling her to a frenzied state of aching hunger. She pivoted to face him, flinging one leg over his hip and locking her foot behind his knee. He understood what she needed and was more than willing to comply. Leisurely, then with increasing ardor, they loved, attaining sweet glory in the embrace of the other.

“I love you; I love you,” his voice rasped as he inhaled roughly. “My sweet Lord, how I love you, Elizabeth!” He kissed her face, smoothing tangled hair from her eyes, before he moved to the side. Arms embracing, he nestled her to his heaving chest. “I do not know how I survived all these years without you,” he whispered.

“Nor I,” she answered sleepily, exhaustion and satiation overtaking her. Darcy smiled, releasing her only to cover them both and draw the bed curtains. Cuddling her closely, listening to her regular breathing, Darcy quickly fell into an undisturbed and revitalizing slumber.

Chapter Six Settling in at Pemberley

Elizabeth awoke groggily with the bizarre impression of having lost something. For several minutes she experienced total disorientation. She was in an enormous, strange bed with dark curtains drawn about. She was alone, and the sensation of emptiness and heartache persisted even though she could not immediately identify the cause. She rubbed her heavy eyes and forced them to remain open. Part of her wanted to retreat back into sleep but the other part, the part that felt uneasy, urged her to wake up. She made herself sit up and, as she did so, her gaze fell on the slight depression in the pillow and mattress next to her. Immediately reality crashed over her consciousness. She knew exactly where she was and the fact that she was alone hit her as an almost physical blow.

“William?” she called, her voice louder than she intended and, to her mild shame, bordering on hysteria. How could she feel so bereft after only two days of waking with his body beside her? Why this sense of panic?

She jumped out of the bed, grabbing her nightgown from the floor where, in their haste, it had been tossed. She pulled it on quickly and had her hand on the doorknob before rationality returned to her clouded mind. It certainly would not do for the Mistress of Pemberley to go dashing through the house in her nightgown!

Calm yourself, Elizabeth! Think! Her first thought was that she was quite cold. William’s robe, the one she had worn last night, was lying over the chair so she put it on. Instantly she felt coherency and calmness wash over her. The combination of warmth and her husband’s scent restored her clarity. She realized suddenly and with acute embarrassment that she was being utterly ridiculous. William would not have left her without good reason. All she need do was to ring, and a servant would appear and tell her what was happening.

She inhaled deeply. Looking at the mantel clock, she noted that it was only a little after seven. William must have arisen early. She walked back to the bed and touched the spot where his head had lain. It was cold. She actually felt tears start in her eyes. Really, Lizzy! she chided herself, what would he think to see you acting the lovesick fool!

Then she noticed the note on the bed stand with her name written in his hand. She collapsed onto the end of the bed and picked it up. I truly am a fool. Of course he would leave me a note!

Beloved,

I woke early, as is my usual wont, not that you would necessarily have ascertained this fact based on these past two days! You were sleeping peacefully and absolutely beautifully. I knew I would be unable to resist waking you if I tarried any longer. I wished to check on the new colt. I will not be long. As much as I love my horses, they in no way compare to you, my precious wife. So strong is my desire to kiss you—even as I write this note I am overwhelmed by the need to do so—that my visit to the stables will be brief. I love you so, my darling.

William

She had no sooner finished reading when she heard the faint squeak of the door opening. She bolted up and rushed across the room without pausing to determine if it was he, not that anyone else would be entering their bedchamber. It was Darcy and he had only opened the door enough to peek his head in. His face lit up at seeing her, but she so surprised him that he literally fell against the jamb when she flew into him. He caught her with one arm, the other desperately grabbing at the wall to keep from falling over. He involuntarily grunted and winced when his back made contact with the hard wood.

“Oh, William! I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?” She stepped back a pace so he could right himself, her hands on his face.

“No more than a bruise, my love,” he laughed. He shut the door and took her into his arms, kissing her soundly. He reluctantly let go but took her hand and walked over to the chair by the fire. He sat down and began pulling off his boots.

“Let me,” she said, and knelt down in front of him, pushing his hands away and removed his boots.

He leaned back and watched her, a happy smile on his face. She stole a glance up at him, really examining him for the first time, and paused in her task, mouth dropping open.

“What is it?” he asked.

“What in the world are you wearing?” she questioned him in astonishment. Elizabeth would never in a million years have imagined the impeccable Mr. Darcy in such attire. His shirt was of coarse linen discolored from old sweat, open at the neck and without cravat; his breeches were stained with mud and had actual tears in the knees; and his thick coat was threadbare with two buttons missing! Even more incredible to her was how alluring he appeared. The rough clothing, his face unshaven with cheeks flushed from the cold, mussed hair clinging damply to his neck, and the musky smell of horse and earth combined to elicit an odd response from her senses.

He looked down at himself, having totally forgotten what he was wearing in his yearning to see his wife, and blushed scarlet. He stood up quickly. “Forgive me, Elizabeth! I intended to clean up and change,” he spluttered. “I only meant to make sure you were still asleep. Give me a moment…” He turned toward his dressing room, but Elizabeth snatched his hand.

She stood up and placed her hands on his chest. He watched her with a mingled expression of bafflement and mortification. “I did not say I disapproved,” she said softly, “In fact, you are rather fetching. So… rugged and… wild!”