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 Lizzy 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
“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
