“Falcon, Papa. A pergin like Mr. Holmes has.”
“Excellent choice. Then hold your arms still, soar and glide.” He swung his arms, side to side and up and down, Alexander smiling and laughing. “No laughing! Be fierce! Raptors frighten their prey and terrify with a piercing gaze. Show me your peregrine scream, Son. Outstanding! If I were a mouse I would be petrified.”
Alexander set his face, attempting to be scary, but it was difficult especially as Darcy kept tilting him downward and bestowing glancing kisses to his face.
“Papa, no! I am hunting. Must be brave. Am I a brave boy?”
“The bravest boy who ever lived. Indeed you are. You killed the ugly spider that scared nanny last week. Remember? So very brave.”
“I told the man I was a brave boy. Not ascared of ducks like Michael.”
“What man?”
“The man on the horse. Mama not like him.” He frowned but then the smile returned. “He say ducks lay eggs in the bushes! I can hunt like brave fox too.”
“Yes, of course you can,” Darcy murmured. He glanced to his wife where she sat curled on the sofa with eyes closed and cheek resting on Michael’s head. The baby was asleep, cuddled against her upper chest. Her face was calm, but without the usual expression of blissful serenity that she typically wore in these moments of maternal relaxation. Darcy’s earlier intuition that something was not quite right with his wife came back in a rush as Alexander’s innocent remark sent cold shivers up his spine. “The man on the horse” could be anyone considering they were in Lizzy’s childhood home, but Darcy knew who it was.
He pulled Alexander to his chest, the toddler protesting for a second before nestling into the warm security of his father’s wide torso and embracing arms. His thumb instinctively entered his mouth.
“You are a brave lad indeed, but also sweet and loving and so precious.
“I lub you too, Papa,” he mumbled around his thumb.
Darcy closed his eyes so that other senses would dominate. He felt Alexander’s fast beating heart, the heat from the tiny body, the muscles tough but pliantly melting onto his torso, and the steady and deep respirations that tickled his neck. He relished the sensation of Alexander’s jaw movements against his left shoulder with each rhythmic suck on the thumb and the plump fingers that stroked the hair by his ear and the linen of his shirt. The springy curls tickled Darcy’s nose pleasantly with each breath, the incredible silkiness comforting as he placed gentle kisses onto the youngster’s head. The hardy two-year-old was so vibrant and alive, his energy nearly inexhaustible and health superb. His presence in their lives was a constant fount of joy and Darcy loved him with a love that was different than what he felt for Elizabeth, but no less powerful.
He squeezed him tightly, Alexander wiggling and giggling. “Papa! Squeezing my air out!”
Darcy gave another noisy kiss before loosening his grip. Alexander lifted, bright blue eyes meeting his father’s worshipful gaze just inches away. “Time for sleep, Son. Tomorrow is an important day for Aunt Kitty and you must again wear your suit.” Darcy smiled at the frown that fact elicited. “It shan’t be too horrible. And remember, you and your cousin Deborah get to spread flowers. Will that not be fun?” Alexander nodded, although his expression was one of dubiousness. “Now, kiss?” Alexander brightened, inclining to the pursed lips and giving a firm kiss accompanied by a loud, playful
Darcy launched upward abruptly. Alexander shrieked in delight, the noise and movement alerting Lizzy that her two favorite men approached.
“Bedtime for sleepy boys,” Darcy said with a smile, placing Alexander on the ground. “Is Michael satiated?”
“Utterly stuffed to the brim. He has already burped and regurgitated the standard amount, so your shirt should be safe.”
He leaned over to take the baby and paused to cup Lizzy’s cheek with his palm, concern in his voice and expression. “Are you well, beloved?”
Lizzy pressed his hand against her face and then turned to kiss his wrist. “I am fine, dearest. Just tired mostly, but we need to talk when you return.”
“Very well. I shall be swift. Come to papa, sweetheart boy. There’s my littlest lamb. No, no, stay asleep.”
“Story first, yes, Papa?”
“I promised and have the book right over there, Alexander.” He pointed. “Grab it on the way out. We will use your Bible for the story of Moses.” He turned to his wife, smiling crookedly. “Tales of the Frog Prince and frog plagues.”
“Ah! Of course.”
Lizzy sat on the edge of the bed brushing her waist-length hair when Darcy returned. Wordlessly he sat behind her while she relinquished the beautiful walnut-handled boar bristle brush gifted to her the past Christmas by him. The mother-of-pearl inlay brush given to her on their wedding night by her new husband had lost too many bristles to be functional, but was tucked into her traveling trunk to be repaired once they reached London. Darcy had provided his wife with several fine brushes since then with no intention of halting the ritual of brushing her lustrous hair. His love for her hair was birthed on that long ago day at Netherfield when she arrived after a three- mile walk to nurse an ill Jane. Her hair had tumbled freely down her back, vivacious and wild, framing her rosy face in a way that was altogether unique. It captured his soul then and the effect brushing her hair had upon him, both arousing and soothing, had not diminished over time.
He clasped the wavy tresses in one hand and passed the stiff bristles through with the other, the sensations flowing through him. Her hair crackled with life, a few individual strands rising as if prepared to fly away while the bulk fell heavily onto his palms, all of them glistening like liquid chocolate with multiple hues of brown. The subtle fragrance of lavender reached his nostrils and he bent to inhale deeply from the mass located at the nape of her neck and bestowed a lingering kiss to the sensitive skin before resuming the task.
“Is your headache entirely gone?”
“Just a twinge in the temples. Nothing significant. It has been warm here compared to home. I think it took my body by surprise.” Her right hand caressed over the muscled thigh pressed into hers, eyes closed while he brushed and massaged her left temple with firm fingertips.
Silence descended for some minutes with neither wishing to disturb the intimate experience. Finally Darcy broke the quiet, his voice a resonant whisper. “I doubt it the sun that caused your headache. Tell me what distressed you, love. Who was the man on the horse? Wickham?”
She gasped, stiffening in surprise. “How did you…?”
“Alexander. He mentioned a man you did not like who told him he was brave. And something about ducks and eggs. Not sure about that part.” He smiled, trying desperately to internalize his anger and fear. “What did he say to trouble you so?”
Lizzy turned, took the brush from his hand, and dropped it forgotten onto the floor before grasping his warm hands within her own. “Fitzwilliam, please, I beg of you, can we talk about it later? I promise I shall tell all and I assure you it was nothing of any great significance. But right now I ache for you to just hold me and make love to me. I need to feel your protective strength and devotion surrounding me.”
She leaned in to initiate feathering kisses over the exposed surfaces of his neck and breastbone, hands seeking more flesh as she gradually peeled the linen away from his chest.
There was something indefinable in her eyes and the tone of her plea that disturbed him tremendously. He knew her thoroughly and her dismay went beyond what seemed likely from an encounter with Wickham, no matter how rude he may have been. Vulnerability or weakness was rarely seen in his strong wife, so he briefly contemplated staying her sensual assault to question her distress. However, her skilled touch was already causing his ardor to rise, and furthermore, he intuitively understood that she needed the special consoling and security that came from their bonding as one.
Gently he clasped her face, lifting away from his chest so he could gaze into her eyes, pouring his love and trust in a look. Then he bent to her mouth, kissing with the lightest of pressures over each lip surface. Tiny suckles, airy grazes with the tip of his tongue, dainty nibbles with his teeth, and minor exhales brushing over her sensitive skin designed to arouse and tranquilize.
