“Actually”—another kiss—“I do have a marvelous idea”— sliding one hand under the hem of his shirt—“for a final activity”—nibbling on an earlobe—“to fully restore my health”—slipping the tip of her tongue into his ear.
“Elizabeth,” he sighed, eyes shutting in pleasure, “we should wait until”—he gasped as a nipple was grazed —“settled at Netherfield… please…” Moans interrupted words as she firmly situated his hand on a breast, while lips traveled deliciously along his jaw. “Your headache could return, beloved, listen to me…”
Lizzy stopped his voice by seizing his lower lip and sucking gently. Darcy moaned again, unconsciously rocking a burgeoning arousal into her bottom and rubbing her breast.
“You talk too much, Fitzwilliam.”
“No one has ever accused me of that!”
She smiled and began seductively stroking and kissing him. He earnestly struggled to dissuade her but to no avail. Lizzy's obstinacy was manifest in a myriad of ways, and one was when she desired him. Of course, Darcy never strived to avoid romantic activities with his wife so was not well experienced in how to do so!
Lizzy laughed at his stammering opposition and met passion-darkening eyes. “I want to love you, Fitzwilliam, any way you desire. I crave your touch on my skin and your body on mine. I hunger to bring you pleasure and show you how ardent my love for you is.” She kissed his eager mouth passionately, overwhelming his senses with her breath and insistence. Pulling away finally, she whispered, “Take me to bed, my lover.”
He stared into her eyes for a moment longer, searching carefully for any residual pain or fatigue, but only sheer desire and love shone forth. With a sigh, gripping her securely in strong arms, he stood and entered their bedchamber. The inn's bed was not as large as Pemberley's or as fine, but it was comfortable. Darcy sat on the edge, lying his wife gently back onto the downy comforter while kissing her lovely mouth. Pulling back mere inches, he stroked the hair from her face, twining silky tresses about his fingers as he gazed at her. “Elizabeth, you are incredibly beautiful. With each day your loveliness increases. I do not comprehend how it is possible, yet it is true.”
In typical Darcy fashion, he alternately caressed, kissed, and nibbled over each delicate facial feature all the while murmuring endearments and praises for the beauty of his wife. Lizzy's eyes were closed, senses reeling with her husband's words of devotion and heated touch. Darcy paused at her lips, running feathery fingertips over her flesh, observing her rising passion with tremendous satisfaction and indescribable happiness. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, “my wife, my lover”—sliding his tongue over her lower lip as she sighed—“mine forever, beloved”—wet tip over the upper lip then slowly sucking between his own—“Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth had long succumbed to the amazing reality of her husband. The magnificence of his physique never failed to overwhelm her. His potent masculinity, virility, and stamina continually stunned her. The sensations they roused in each other at the tiniest touch or even at a look staggered her still, yet she embraced it as a heaven gifted expression of the extraordinary bonding love they shared. After nearly six months of marriage, their passion only grew stronger, their lovemaking as necessary as breathing with rarely a day passing without gratifying release and blissful devotion to the other achieved in some manner. They occasionally purposed to experiment with some new technique from the books or an imagined fantasy, yet usually their movements simply evolved naturally at the moment. Opportunities arose spontaneously and were latched onto with zeal, neither of them hesitant to try something new. Trust was unwavering, love unmatched, and desire to please the other first of paramount importance, selfless giving the central goal.
Tonight was different only in Darcy's residual apprehension which induced him to proceed in a reserved manner despite Lizzy's clear desire for a wild interlude. In the end, she did not care, their mutual rapture as blissful and blinding as always.
Slowly, reality and strength returned to them both. Lizzy moved first, turning in his arms that encircled her shuddering, damp skin and bestowed a lingering kiss. “I love you,” they spoke concurrently, then chuckled, kissing tenderly.
Smoothing the tangled hair off her forehead, he kissed a perfectly arched brow. “Are you well, my love?”
“I am divine but sleepy. Hold me, William?”
“Forever, Elizabeth. Forever.”
The next day dawned as bright and lovely as the previous one. Lizzy felt better than she had in the past week, not even a twinge of morning nausea; however, Darcy insisted on tarrying their departure to be sure. He kept the shades partially drawn and had assured plenty of snacks and liquids packed in the carriage. Lizzy was so continually plied with cups of lemonade and water that frequent stops for physical necessities were required, prolonging the journey. Even so, they arrived at Netherfield by mid-afternoon, greeted enthusiastically by Charles and Jane.
Lizzy's feet barely made contact with solid earth before she was dashing into her sister's embrace. A short curtseyed greeting to Mr. Bingley, and then the two women headed into the manor, arm-in-arm and heads touching as their words spilled over one another.
“Well, Darcy old chap,” Mr. Bingley exclaimed by way of greeting, “there you have it. I believe we have been abandoned!”
Darcy smiled indulgently. “Only temporarily, Bingley. Surely they will exhaust their reminiscences and confidences in three or four days and then come crawling back to their mere husbands.”
Bingley laughed. “Miss Darcy, I trust you are well? Was the trip too difficult?”
“I am perfect, Mr. Bingley, thank you. And the trip was easy.”
They made their way into the house, Bingley asking after Lizzy's health. “She suffered a headache last evening, but today is well. They occur occasionally still but with lessening intensity and frequency. The physician assures us it is to be expected.” They had agreed to announce their news once the entire family was together that evening. Darcy privately doubted Lizzy's ability to keep their joy from her sister for even those few hours, but he would not renege on their vow.
“Mr. Bingley, have you prepared the same room for me as before?”
“Yes, Georgiana, we did. Your brother assured me this was your preference.”
“Oh, yes! The view is amazing. Thank you. Brother, Mr. Bingley, if you do not mind, I think I would like to rest a bit.”
“Of course, dear.” Darcy watched her mount the stairs with a smile. “I doubt she is the least bit tired, but male companionship is decidedly boring to a seventeen-year-old girl. I, on the other hand, am in need of a drink. Lead the way, Charles.”
Laughing, they made their way into the billiard room, where Bingley poured a whiskey for them both. Sitting onto a comfortably cushioned chair with a sigh of relief, Darcy studied his friend's face. “You look well, Bingley. Marriage agrees with you also, I presume?”
“Very much. I do not require asking you the same question, Darcy. It is evident. By the way, I prepared your room as you requested. The same room you inhabited on your previous visits. A single room.” He paused, blushing mildly, the question unasked.
Darcy placidly sipped his drink, gazing at Bingley with amusement, remaining silent.
After a spell, Bingley continued, “Jane was concerned. There is a lovely bedchamber next to yours if…”
“One room will be all that is necessary. I selected that bedchamber when you and I dwelt here last year based on the view and decor. Mrs. Darcy has similar tastes. She will appreciate it with the same enthusiasm, and I am aware of the attached dressing room.” He smiled at Bingley's ruddy face. “One bedchamber will be adequate.”
Bingley cleared his throat. “So, tell me about the duel. I wish I could have witnessed the encounter.” His eyes were bright with a youthful zeal. “I almost pity the fool who would willingly take you on, Darcy.”
Darcy smiled grimly, but proceeded to tell the tale.
Down the hall in the parlor, Lizzy and Jane were sharing tea and sisterly conversation. They sat side by side on the sofa chatting companionably, Lizzy sharing her version of the horrific events leading up to and including the duel. Jane shuddered. “How awful, Lizzy. We were so worried. Papa wanted to leave for Pemberley immediately, but Mama was ill with anxiety and begged him to stay.” Lizzy made a face but said nothing. Jane continued, “Fortunately, Mr. Darcy sent a second missive soon after informing us of your recovery. Are you wholly restored?”
“Headaches on occasion, that is all. The light, if it is too bright, pains me, but that is lessening. The doctor seems certain that it will resolve in time.” Lizzy laughed. “Between my weakness and William's wounds, we have been quite the pair of invalids!”
