control, but, unfortunately, his body overruled his mind’s every objection. Elizabeth would not deny him his perverted pleasure. They had married a month earlier, and his resolve not to have her weakened by the moment. When he thought to die in Wickham’s cellar, his one regret was that he would never know the pleasure of Elizabeth’s love. Someone else would claim her after his death, and the thought nearly drove him insane. Now she lay in his arms, and all he had to do was commit himself to loving her completely.
Impulsively, Darcy rolled her to her back and hovered over her, burying his face in Elizabeth’s hair.“God help me, Elizabeth. I surrender.” His lips found hers in a deep, passionate kiss. “Tell me again. Is this what you really want? If you have any doubts, we should not go through with this.”
“I have more love in my heart for you, Husband, than the dear Lord should allow a woman to feel. I want to be yours, Fitzwilliam, in every way possible—for a lifetime.” Elizabeth did not breathe; she knew Darcy still wavered.
They remained staring into each other’s eyes for several long moments.Then Darcy lowered his mouth to hers.This kiss spoke of hunger and need.“You know,Vixen, once I have you, I will want you again and again. I am a starving man.You will need to suffer my attentions for a lifetime.”
Elizabeth stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand. “I want to feel your skin touching mine—to not know where either of us begins or ends,” she whispered.
Two heartbeats later, Darcy stripped away the shirt, and then he
Passion flared between them as heat rushed to their every pore. Darcy drew Elizabeth closer to him, realizing she hungered for him as much as he did for her.The smell of the lavender oil she had used in the bath clung to her skin, along with some other undefined bouquet, one of wild desire and excitement, and it inflamed him as his fingertips traced a line from her temple across her jaw and down her neck.
His mouth followed his fingertips until Darcy sucked gently at the vein throbbing at the base of Elizabeth’s neck. He nipped at her gently and then moved to the swell of her breasts.
He would make love to his wife—he would give himself completely to her—would forget his perverted sense of honor and responsibility and welcome hope, commitment, and love into his heart.
Elizabeth splayed a hand across his chest and pressed herself against him, robbing Darcy of breath and of any coherent thought. “I love you,” she whispered close to his ear, “for an eternity. I am yours, Fitzwilliam.” The ache of desire became a longing—a craving for what Elizabeth offered him, and intuitively his hands began to search her body, the need to know all of her overwhelming his senses.
“I will be gentle,” he murmured.
“I do not fear you, Fitzwilliam. How could a person fear
“Look, Mama,” the girl called as she twirled in place.
“You are an excellent dancer, Lydia.” Elizabeth sat on a blanket and watched the child playing barefoot on the bank of the lake. The day was sunny, and it called to them to be outside.
The girl stepped left and right and pretended to curtsy to an unknown partner.“Come dance with me, Mama.”
Happily, Elizabeth rose to stand with the child in the clearing. Taking the girl’s hands, she began to count,“One and two and three and four,” as they sidestepped over the carefully manicured lawn.
The girl’s curly auburn hair bounced in ringlets as they bobbed and twisted to the imaginary music, and soon they were in fits of laughter.
“Would you prefer to dance with me, Miss Lydia?” Darcy stepped from behind one of the nearby trees. He was covered in road dirt, but his appearance pleased both the ladies; he was pure masculinity.
“Papa!” the girl’s arms came up in a hug as he scooped her into his embrace.“I am so glad you are home.”
He planted a kiss on the side of the child’s cheek. She might have her mother’s hair and build, but Lydia Darcy was his child, right down to her icy blue eyes.
“Will you dance with me, Papa?”
“Allow me to greet your mother first, Child.” He leaned to the right and placed a lingering kiss on Elizabeth’s upturned mouth. “Did you miss me also, Mrs. Darcy?”
“From the moment you rode off to Matlock.”
Darcy smiled that smile he always gave her right before he
“Excellent.” Elizabeth moved away to the blanket. “Mr. Bingley and Jane will come next week. They are most eager to meet their nephew.”
“How is James?” he asked as she picked up the squirming infant.
“Damon is perfect,” she corrected as she brought the child for his father to admire.
Darcy rolled his eyes. “The child was named after my
“After your father
“Will I ever win another argument?” he asked good-heartedly.
Elizabeth laughed lightly.“Probably not, but I promise you will not suffer from the defeat.”
Darcy bestowed another kiss on her lips.Then he turned to the child he still held in his arms. He placed her little feet on the tops of his boots. Lydia’s head barely came to his knees. “Would you hum for us, Elizabeth?”
She began to sing “Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender.” Darcy’s head shot up in surprise, but his daughter sang the words, too, and so he, dutifully, stepped into a sweeping waltz. Lydia, happy to be the center of attention, laughed and sang until he lifted her to him, and she combed the air with her chubby legs.
