The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

disrupted from her thrashing, but the pillow was plump and mattress smooth.

She released a choked sob, lunging from the bed and grabbing the carefully folded robe from the chest at the end of the bed. It was his old robe, freshly splashed with his cologne. She had taken to wearing it again the past few days, the fabric comforting, but also a vivid reminder of the emptiness in her soul. She thought of that now as she dashed from the room, inhibitions completely gone. Flying on bare feet down the hall to the stairs, she prayed he was in the study or library. What if he had had enough, especially after the disastrous dinner, and left entirely? Gone to London or anywhere to escape her. The thought caused all air to vacate her lungs and she ran faster.

The library was dark and vacant. He was found in his study, and Lizzy nearly collapsed from the relief. She paused on the threshold, clutching the solid wood, and gazed at him where he slept on the sofa with soft snores reaching her ears. The fire burned low, one lit lamp on the nearby desk casting a liquid golden glow over his handsome face. He lay with his head resting on a small cushion, lips parted and thick lashes lying on shaven cheeks. He wore long trousers, boots discarded, and his shirt. A thin quilt covered partially, one leg bent and resting against the sofa back. It was clear that he intended to sleep here all through the night, purposefully choosing the hard, narrow sofa over the comfort of their spacious bed.

She hesitated, sadness causing her to tremble. Perhaps he does not want me? Then she remembered George’s assurances of William’s confusion and grief. She entered, kneeling by his side and taking the cold hand that dangled over the sofa’s edge. She kissed it and pressed it to her cheek, tears welling, as the fingers of her other hand lightly traced over his face. Reverently touching each precious feature, holding his hand tightly as it warmed, she murmured, “I love you so, William. Please forgive me. Tell me you love me as well.”

He mumbled indecipherably, turning his head toward her gently stroking fingertips. The hand lying on his chest rose slightly, golden band glinting in the firelight with fingers seeking before falling sleepily. “Elizabeth…”

“Yes! It is I! Wake up, William. Please! I love you and need to feel your eyes upon me.”

He groaned, stretching and lightly clasping her hand as he bestowed a tiny kiss to the palm. “My Lizzy,” he mumbled, beginning to turn toward the hand touching his face, his dreams incorporating the fleshly reality and holding fast.

“No, dearest, wake up! I am here and I love you!”

Suddenly his eyes flew open, dazed and uncomprehending. He saw her, but rather than gathering her into his arms as she so desperately needed, he released her hand and sank further into the sofa. “Elizabeth? Is something wrong? The babies?”

“No, no. They are fine. Soundly asleep.” He dropped his gaze to the hand she held cinched next to her cheek, returning to her eyes with confusion evident. As she gathered her thoughts, observing him in the dim illumination, she could detect the faint hope deep in his eyes.

“Beloved”—his brows rose at the endearment—“I… I dreamt of you tonight. We… we made love on the beach in broad daylight as you always wished we could.” She smiled, feathering hungry fingers over his befuddled face. “It was so beautiful. You were beautiful. I felt you… truly felt you, even beyond my dream. I… desired you as I have not in weeks and it was wonderful. Only it was not real. And then you swam away and refused to answer me and I woke terrified to find you gone, again, and I needed to see you, touch you, and tell you that…”—she sobbed—“I love you and that if you do not, I understand, but I will die and…”

“Please, Elizabeth, do not cry! I cannot bear to see your tears anymore!”

She shook her head, pierced by the pain in his gaze. “I do not want to cry anymore, my love. I just want to hold you.” And she leaned forward, capturing his mouth in an encompassing kiss.

He moaned, encircling her back and lacing sturdy fingers through the hair on her head, drawing her tightly to his body, and returned the kiss with all the pent up agony released in their yearning to reconnect.

It may only be a dream, he thought, but it is a dream I want and need.

Lizzy broke the kiss first, but not to draw farther than his neck. Hundreds of warm kisses and nibbles were bestowed, hands traversing the quivering plains of his chest as buttons were undone and fine linen pushed aside.

“Sweet Lord! I love you, Elizabeth!” Darcy gasped, his emotions surging blissfully. Dimly he heard his uncle’s voice: You are a fool. It seemed impossible that he had ever doubted their love as her luscious lips and arousing hands declared a passionate need. Yet the residuals of fear remained. He stroked her back and shoulders, vocalized his pleasure, but allowed her to lead.

Kissing down the middle of his torso to the rigid muscles of his flat abdomen, she lifted the shirt upward and attacked the area with gusto.

“Oh God…” he moaned, arching his hips as his head fell back, giving in to the sensations.

The shirt was rolled away as she kissed back up to his neck, catching the fabric around his outstretched arms as he lifted to assist. She paused then, holding his hands captive over his head, and gazed into his dark orbs.

“We shall talk later, my soul. There is so much to say, for me to apologize for…” She kissed him to halt the negation, stilling his shaking head with a gentle grip to his chin before leisurely rubbing downward toward his groin. “Right now I only want to show you how much I love you,” she whispered against his lips, “show that I am sorry, show that you are everything to me.” She suckled along his jaw to earlobe, voice husky amid his rising moans. “I want to renew our bond, bring you pleasure as you have me, give and give until you cry with joy. Please, Fitzwilliam! Let me love you!”

Darcy absorbed every word through the mists of heightened ardor, his body rocking and trembling in response to her tactile stimulation. Crashing sensations burned stupendously and clouded his senses. The trials of the past months faded into nothingness. She was here, beside him, electrifying every nerve, filling his heart with healing phrases far more beautiful than the fervor of their mutual lust.

She released his hands, the shirt falling forgotten to the floor, and he instantly grasped her tightly. Ravenous hands explored the contours of her shape, kneading and stroking, reacquainting themselves with the beloved flesh as familiar to him as his own.

Lizzy drew away, standing as Darcy wheezed No! But she only spared a moment, the robe falling in a puddle at her feet, before straddling his thighs and merging in one smooth motion. They simultaneously expelled loud sighs of pleasure and then laughed. Darcy sat up partway, clutching her to his chest and cupping her face as she began to sway with a rhythm as old as time, yet forever satisfying.

He kept her close, lips and noses touching, eyes locked with heated passion blazing. The furious, maniacal urgency of a few moments ago waned somewhat in the gratification of feeling the other’s body surrounding. They absorbed the flowing energy and mutual love with no desire to rush the experience.

“I love you, my wife.”

“I love you, my husband.”

The endearments and affirmations fell interspersed with nuzzles and fondles. The pace quickened after long minutes of temperate loving, finally culminating with blinding rapture. They fell to the sofa, harsh gasps echoing through the room and sweat glistening flesh heaving as they clung together.

Lizzy buried her face in his neck, sobs of joy caught in her throat. I will not cry! I am done with tears! She breathed deeply of his masculine scent, that magnificent mixture of woodsy cologne, musky perspiration, and some unidentifiable aroma only present when they made love. It soothed her.

In time their hearts returned to fairly normal paces. Darcy moved then, shifting until her face was near his, fingers stroking lightly over her cheek. He smiled, eyes radiant and shining, his voice rich with throbbing emotion. “There is nothing to talk about, Elizabeth, if you say again that you love me.”

She laughed breathily, the last vestiges of anxiety releasing in a gush. “With all my heart I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, now and for all eternity.”

His grin was enormous, dazzling her senses seconds before he kissed her, rolling toward the back of the sofa as he embraced her so securely she could barely breathe. Yet before the need for oxygen invaded the fantastic delight of his lips, he released her, rolling and rising to his feet in one graceful motion. She propped on an elbow, admiring unabashedly as he fastened his trousers and bent for the discarded quilt. A second later she was enveloped in the material and swooped into his arms heading for the door.

“Where are you taking me?” she teased, tenderly biting along his neck and utterly indifferent to her naked dangling feet and bare shoulders—not that it was likely they would encounter anyone in the middle of the night.