gaze.
“Elizabeth Darcy,” he murmured reverently. “My wife.”
While nibbling kisses to swollen, ruddy lips, he clutched her upper thighs and hoisted her up. She instinctively wrapped legs about his waist while he walked sedately toward their bed. Within minutes, Lizzy would forget her prior salacious insanity. They nestled under a blanket, bodies entwined as they commenced a languid exploration with Darcy fulfilling each spoken phrase as he feasted. Hands and mouths were everywhere; Darcy leading and Lizzy responding as sensations blazed and ebbed only to blaze anew at some fresh sensory assault.
It was cathartic. All the moans and sighs of his beloved purging; each stroke within her purifying; every successive level of passion attained supplanting the sorrow until there was no room for anything but happiness. It was then and only then that he fully surrendered to the pure, absolving pleasure to be found only with his wife.
Mutual cries reverberated. Darcy’s guttural shouts rose to the rafters; Lizzy’s release paling under the intensity of her husband’s unleashed climax. “I love you, Fitzwilliam,” she gasped hoarsely, Darcy far too caught up to be more than peripherally aware of her declaration.
But he felt the sentiment emanating, and embraced her even tighter if that was possible. They lay on their sides with limbs tangled and flesh connected on multiple planes, clasping and caressing as hearts gradually returned to a normal pace. The tenderness and vulnerability of being so rawly exposed aided their ever increasing melding as one soul and, in this particular situation, assisted the final dissipation of Darcy’s dolor.
He pulled her head gently onto his shoulder, kissed the top of her head, and sighed. “I do not think I have ever needed to love you more, my heart. Thank you. I am unsure if I can express how urgently I required your love, but I will try. Be patient with me.”
“You have all the time in the world. I am not going anywhere.”
“Hmmm… Yes, I know this to be true and it fills me with bliss. My good fortune staggers me, but I accept it nonetheless.”
“And so you should. How deficient of you to not accept the Almighty’s wondrous blessing… me!” And she leaned her head back to meet his sparkling eyes with her own, both chuckling.
He stroked her cheek, happiness radiating. “Guess who else is in love?”
“Who?”
“The confirmed bachelor himself. Our wayward cousin Richard.”
“You jest!”
“God’s truth. Behind that flippant exterior beats a heart as sappy as my own. He confessed over dinner one night to harboring a years-long affection that I had no clue about whatsoever.” He paused, running the back of his hand along her clavicle and neck. “You remember our attending Lord Ivers’s ball in London?”
Lizzy blinked, eyebrows rising in a surprised expression much as Darcy had worn when Richard seemed to abruptly change the subject. “I… do, yes.”
“You recall Lord and Lady Fotherby? I believe you conversed with Lady Fotherby, did you not?”
She nodded, still puzzled. “I spoke with them both briefly and Lady Fotherby sat near me for a spell at one point. They are lovely people, or rather I suppose I should say Lord Fotherby was. He rather intimidated me I confess. I do not know if I will ever accustom myself to actually speaking with people who are so noteworthy, the legendary famous who are names read about in newspapers. I think I stammered a bit, but his wife was unassuming, and we shared a time of stimulating conversation.”
“You never stammered, beloved. Were always charming and witty, my perfect Mistress of Pemberley, exceeding all my expectations and swelling my ego outrageously.”
“Pride, Mr. Darcy. Tsk, tsk.”
“Indubitably. But also merely the truth.”
He bestowed several kisses, Lizzy finally murmuring against his lips, “We were discussing Richard’s love life.”
“Hmmm… Were we?” He captured her lower lip, sucking gently.
Lizzy giggled, pulling away, but he only followed, her giggles increasing and voice mumbling without the ability to articulate properly. “William, finish your tale. Curiosity is killing me!”
He let go of her lip with a laugh. “A rumormonger you are, Mrs. Darcy.”
“You started it! And quit changing the subject. One minute Richard in love, the next a ball attended months ago. Focus, my dear, and tell me… Wait!” Her eyes opened wide as comprehension dawned, Darcy observing her with a broad grin. “You mean Lady Fotherby?” Nod. “Richard is in love with Lady Fotherby?” Nod. “How? When? I do not see…”
“Allow me to enlighten you, and rest assured, I was as flabbergasted and I have known the man all my life.” He proceeded to tell her the entire woeful tale as recounted to him, leaving nothing out, and adding his own commentaries from recollected incidents of ages past. “I remember the two flirting a bit, but it is standard practice amongst most of the society seekers, as you witnessed yourself. A time or two he mentioned Lady Simone’s beauty or grace, repeated a handful of witty ripostes or clever stories with a gleam in his eye. The gents teased him a bit, but that too was standard practice so I thought little of it.”
He chuckled, closing his eyes in humored remembrance. “It was dangerous, Elizabeth. Merely glancing at a lady was fodder for merciless teasing, let alone speaking of one. Luckily, it was an equal opportunity mocking torment so no one took it seriously.”
“How about you? I know how you despise being teased.”
He smiled. “I avoided looking at or talking to any women as much as possible, which was not too difficult since they all frightened me half to death.”
Lizzy burst out laughing, Darcy rolling to his back with her in his arms and laughing as well. “There! You now know all of my secrets. You were not the first woman to leave me hopelessly tongue-tied, although the reasons were quite different. Social skills were never my forte, especially when in my teens. Thankfully, I was ridiculous and boring so the young ladies ignored me as well, saving me from the worst of my friends’ innuendos and taunting.”
“I rather doubt they ignored you, after all I have seen your portrait from the year you left for Cambridge and you were entirely too dashing to be ignored. So what is Richard to do?”
Darcy shrugged, eyes on the breasts so gloriously displayed resting on his chest as Lizzy was propped on her elbows above him. Reaching to trace an index finger over the softness, dipping into the welcoming cleavage, he answered absently, “Not much he can do at this juncture. Lady Fotherby is in mourning and will be for a few more months. Eventually, however, she will return to society functions. Richard should have no trouble encountering her from time to time, especially if he is proactive as I suggested he be. His greatest obstacle will be the other men placing themselves in her path. A wealthy widow of her beauty will be sought after. I encouraged him to press his suit forthwith. If she holds any affection for him, which seems at least possible, given the clues extended, he should have no trouble.”
“Who would have thought you would ever be giving another advice on romance?”
He glanced up at her teasing face with a grin. “My arts worked on you, did they not? Found me irresistible, charming, dashing? Had to have me as yours immediately? Wanted me desperately?” He accented the huskily uttered words with firm strokes down her sides and a tight squeeze into his pelvis.
Lizzy squirmed and laughed. “Live with your delusions if you must, Mr. Darcy, although rewriting history is considered a sin in some quarters.”
He merely grinned and returned to the delightful contemplation of her bosom. “You no longer leak milk and feel softer, not so… lumpy.”
“Lumpy? Yes, I suppose they did at times.” She shook her head in amusement. “My body seems to have adjusted.” She smiled at Darcy’s rapt attention, running fingers through his thick, messy hair while she observed the play of expressions crossing his elegant features. His thoughts were transparent, thus she was not even slightly surprised when he gently rolled her onto her back and buried his face into her chest with a happy sigh.
His playful delight did not last long, however, as the bell above the right side of the bed rang. With a final kiss to each pert nipple, Darcy rose, kissing her lips before exiting the bed.
They had come to refer to this final nursing as Alexander’s bedtime snack, as he inevitably ate voraciously prior and needed merely to fill the tiny void before succumbing to a deep Darcy-style sleep that lasted for six to sometimes eight hours. Naturally, he was not always so predictable, often waking in the darkest hours of the night for nourishment or comforting. Mrs. Hanford assured them this was typical and to be expected for months to come.
