chin resting on his chest, fingering his cravat. “The scenery is sublime. The history and buildings fascinating. The tour guide is handsome and extraordinarily intelligent. I honestly cannot fathom how the outing could be improved upon.”
Darcy was smiling happily, playing with loosened strands of her hair and her ear. Lizzy nibbled the corner of her lip, dexterously untying a knot of his cravat. “Hmmm… Perhaps, I can fathom an improvement after all.” After she had another knot unraveled, she continued, “Such a gorgeous and talented tour guide should be rewarded. Let me think… What could a man of such dazzling capabilities want from a simple girl like me? A kiss? Would that please my handsome guide?” The cravat was completely undone, Lizzy working her way down the buttons of his waistcoat when she bestowed her kiss.
The kiss was thorough, encompassing, teasing with tongues and lips altering between soft and demanding. Darcy loosened more strands of her hair, otherwise allowing Lizzy to lead the kiss in whichever direction she chose and becoming rapidly intoxicated by the taste of her. Lizzy completed the task of unbuttoning the vest, next removing his shirt from breeches waistband and running a hand over his abdomen. She lifted her face then, Darcy's eyes hazy with desire.
Fingering over his lips to chin, then along solid jaw line, she whispered, “William, my husband. I love you immensely. I do not wish to wait until tonight to love you. I intend to ravish your body right now. I trust this meets with your approval?” She smiled impishly, allowing no opportunity for more than a slight nod before capturing his mouth with hungry urgency. Darcy reciprocated equally, moaning deep in his chest and clutching her shoulders. With a final rough suck to his lower lip and sharp nip, she withdrew, delivering wet kisses over his jaw to exposed neck. Darcy arched with a delighted sigh, shifting to relieve the sudden tightness in his groin.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, “you are astounding and amazing. How did I live without you?”
Lizzy rose from the vicinity of his sternum with a grin, hands peeling the shirt hem upwards. “I do not know, William, but you have me now and I assure your absolute gratification.” With a hike of skirts, she straddled his thighs and lustily attacked the flesh of his abdomen with her mouth.
Darcy closed his eyes with a heady sigh, relaxing into the waves of pleasure washing through every cell.
Passion, faithfulness, and veneration raged through both of them, the giving and taking of kisses and caresses a potent impulse. Lizzy continued to ravage his torso, her hands roamed under him to squeeze his derriere, continued on down clenched thighs, and traveled, with brushing glances, over to his groin. Darcy was moaning, uttering unintelligible words, hands flattened on the ground as he rocked into her body.
“Elizabeth! Please… I beg you… I need you!” He lurched to a sitting position, grasping Lizzy about the waist desperately. She responded with alacrity, clutching his shoulders and rising while he frantically swept her skirts aside. In a swift second they were joined.
Darcy released a reverberant growl, gripping her body to his chest intently and kissing greedily. Lizzy wrapped arms tightly over his shoulders and neck. They raged on, eager and consumed, precipitously attaining their peak. As if by telepathy, they slowed at the same time, mutually sensing the demand to prolong the loving.
Retreating an inch, breath mixing as they panted opened mouth with gazes locking. Lizzy fingered airily over his face while Darcy caressed her back.
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “my love. So perfect… all mine… always.” She kissed his nose and then returned to his mouth, nibbling. “Oh, my lover, the feel of you! Oh God, William! I love you so! How can I describe the joy of your body buried in me?” Uncontainable passion whirled and radiated, bonding them together in unity. Lizzy cupped his face and rested her forehead against his, submitting to the power of his love.
“Elizabeth,” he moaned, “my love… let go… come with me… now!” Pressing his mouth blissfully against hers they allowed the rush of acute pleasure to overtake them.
They held each other tightly, kissing and fondling, neither desiring to leave the other, relishing the intimacy of where their naked flesh connected. Inexplicably, an upsurge of emotion brought tears to Lizzy's eyes and she released a shuddering sob. Darcy withdrew to see her face, frowning as he brushed her tears with his thumbs. “Elizabeth, what is wrong?”
She was shaking her head, squeezing him tight. “Nothing, forgive me, William, I just… love you so much… sometimes it… overwhelms me.” He kissed her tenderly, shushing and soothing. Laying back onto the blanket with her firm in his embrace and pressed over his body, he murmured adoration until she quieted. Finally, with a tremulous laugh and while lodging one arm possessively against the hot skin of his chest, she spoke, “Pregnancy emotions running amok, I suppose.” She nestled closer, more than half her body lying on his.
Silently they enveloped each other, feeling each respiration and heartbeat. Lizzy delighted in the sensation of her husband's warmth. Darcy reveled in the softness of her form under his hands, even clothed, and the occasional movement of their baby against his lower right abdomen. Darcy, cognizant of the change in her breathing signaling that she was moments away from sleep, drew her closer to his body and held her thus for over an hour, ignoring the cramping muscles and sharp rock under his left shoulder blade.
Their final destination for the day was the village of Repton. Darcy thoroughly detailed the history of the pivotal town as they drove, Lizzy in a fever of excitement by the time they crested the small rise and viewed the town spread before them on the sloping hillside.
“Essentially, in the present,” Darcy explained, “Repton is no more than the typical farming and fishing village. Except for the school. Repton School is the oldest independent school for boys in all of England, functioning unbroken since 1557 if you can imagine. My grandfather attended here for three years and my father considered sending me, but the headmasters following my grandfather's day had allowed the school to decline. I honestly do not know the reputation currently. I remember I was disappointed, as the idea of formal education appealed to me. I begged for Eton or Winchester or Harrow instead, but mother was ill, and I think father could not bear wounding her heart by sending me away.” He paused in memory, Lizzy squeezing his knee.
With a smile, he resumed his narrative, “We will tour the school, as it sits on the same campus as Saint Wystan's Church, which is the real draw of the area. Repton, my love, unassuming as it is, was the capital of Mercia in the sixth century. All the kings and princes resided here and were buried in the church. The crypt and mausoleum are mostly intact and the remains of several kings can be viewed. It is very exciting! In fact, these artifacts are some of the oldest and best-preserved Saxon relics in England. Additionally, Repton is the first village where Christianity was preached in the Midlands. Priests were sent from Northumbria, as northern England then was, to convert the pagan Mercian kings. Amazingly, they were successful. The church was built over the mausoleum in the eighth century and has remained relatively unchanged to this day. A priory was founded here as well, but no longer remains, except as the foundation stones for the school.”
“Who was Saint Wystan?”
Darcy pursed his lips in thought. “A prince, if I recall correctly, the son of one of the Kings of Mercia. He was murdered, and miracles apparently ensued as an aftermath. The history is vague, as it often is with legends and superstitions. Eventually, he was sanctified and the church was named for him as its patron saint.”
Lizzy was very impressed, thrilled to touch the ancient stones and imagine medieval men carving and building. Of all the marvels seen on their short jaunt into the past, these ruins were the most ancient. The press of age and history, life lived to the fullest if utterly divergent from the modern familiar, was palpable as they descended the archaic, worn stone steps to the crypt. It was easy to sense trapped emotions and memories, the ethereal whisper of forgotten voices echoing. It was eerie yet oddly comforting to know that time marched on but the indelible stamp of the past endured.
They roved about the grounds, sat in serene contemplation inside the church itself, and then strolled through the town. Like all country hamlets, the buildings were primarily stone and thatch, most old with the random, newer construction interposed. Children dashed about the streets, dogs yapping at their feet as they laughed and skipped and teased. It was very relaxing, and neither Darcy nor Lizzy were in any hurry to return to Derby. The numerous evidences of the past at each turn delighted them and further astounded. It was the perfect end to a perfect day.
