She raised her chin impudently, noted a flash of confusion cross his visage, and snapped, “Demons chasing you, Mr. Darcy, or do you have a death wish?”
He seemed to have partially recovered his composure and replied seriously in a shaky voice, “Good day to you, Miss Elizabeth. Neither demons nor a death wish inspire me. I assure you I am capable of handling my mount and Parsifal delights in speed. He would be sorely displeased with me if we galloped sedately.” His voice warmed slightly as he affectionately patted the horse's sweaty neck.
“Parsifal is it? Can I assume, therefore, that you appreciate the German poem by von Eschenbach, or is it a coincidence?”
Darcy raised his brows, clearly amazed. “I am impressed, Miss Elizabeth. Do you read all German poetry, or is it Arthurian legends which interest you?”
She shrugged. “My father has eclectic tastes, Mr. Darcy. He will read whatever he can get his hands on and then he lends the volume to me. I confess to enjoying medieval literature, although not the romantic varieties as much. As for German poetry, well, I am afraid my knowledge of the modern languages is limited. I am not so accomplished, you see.”
Darcy flushed and coughed. “Accomplishment is gauged in a myriad of ways, Miss Elizabeth. Do not take Miss Bingley's words too seriously.”
She laughed gaily, eliciting a small smile from him. “Oh, be comforted, sir. I actually have a reputation for frivolity and irreverence. Miss Bingley did not disturb me.”
Silence descended, Mr. Darcy staring at her in that strange, undecipherable manner of his. Lizzy, to her utter horror, found her eyes drifting from his face to the open collar of his shirt. She flushed, averting her gaze quickly, mind suddenly revisiting the touch of his bare, warm, and strong hand when he assisted her into the carriage when leaving Netherfield. Anger rose in her chest then, as if it was somehow his fault for the slant of her musings, and she flared. “I imagine you and your sister read von Eschenbach in the original German?” She cringed inwardly at the inanity of her remark as well as the tone but glared challengingly and lifted her chin nonetheless.
Mr. Darcy frowned slightly. “Yes, of course, although Miss Darcy's German is not as fluent as her French. She is improving though.” He trailed off lamely.
Concluding that he must be bored silly and annoyed with the conversation, especially with her, Lizzy declared briskly, “Well, Mr. Darcy, if you will excuse me, I need to be returning to Longbourn and I have detained your horse from his race quite long enough.”
He seemed to hesitate, struggling internally with something, and then bowed his head. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Forgive me for keeping you. I pray your day continues to be a pleasant one.” Despite his farewell, he yet hesitated for a moment further then abruptly clenched his jaw and with a curt bow spun Parsifal and cantered off, spurring into a hard run before getting thirty feet away.
Almost a year later, during their engagement, they had met here on two occasions, once by accident and once planned. The accidental encounter had occurred only five days after their betrothal and in roughly the same manner as the first. Lizzy had gone to Willow Bench to read. Darcy was out riding and inadvertently passed by that way, the meadow being flat and lengthy thus perfect to race across. Lizzy had heard the hoof beats and jumped up in hopeful anticipation, heart pounding at the sight of her love whizzing by. She rapidly climbed to the top rung of the fence, waving frantically and quite unladylike, thrilled when he finally saw her.
How altered the confrontation was this time around! Darcy was beaming and relaxed. Lizzy unabashedly admired his windblown attractiveness, although to her chagrin he wore a cravat. He casually directed Parsifal alongside her and without preamble leaned in for a tender kiss. “Miss Elizabeth, what a delightful surprise. Come here often, do you?” Gloved fingertips seared the flesh of her cheek as he caressed tenderly.
They teased and laughed, shared several controlled kisses, as Lizzy told him the history of Willow Bench. The problem of being on opposite sides of the fence was solved by the simple expedience of him galloping full tilt and cleanly jumping over it while Lizzy nearly fainted. She scolded him vehemently and he professed deep contrition, belied by the twinkle in his eyes. Of course, Lizzy had a difficult time maintaining her irritation considering how breathlessly gorgeous he was and the raw excitement rushing through her at the sight of his blatant masculinity.
The planned visit to Willow Bench had transpired on the afternoon before their wedding day. They had walked from Longbourn, initially with Jane and Charles trailing, belatedly discovering their steps haphazardly heading this direction at roughly the same moment they realized that Jane and Charles were nowhere to be found. They shared a knowing glance, nodded and grinned, and by mutual unspoken consent broke into a chase. Lizzy reached the trees first, although it was clear the long-legged Darcy had forfeited. Instead, he grabbed her about the waist, twirling her about while laughing joyously, and then planted a firm kiss to her lips. As had been increasingly ensuing as the day of their nuptials approached, the playful chaste kiss rapidly evolved into a serious breach of all propriety. Within seconds they were fused along every plane of their bodies, hands grasping and seeking, and mouths hungrily tasting. Before long, they were both panting—and not from the sprint.
With tremendous effort they pulled away, withdrawing to opposite trees as they stared at each other with passion imbued eyes. Darcy was totally befuddled, as Lizzy would learn was a typical reaction when his ardor was high. Lizzy was in a similar state, earnestly searching her mind for something to interject into the silence, finally emitting the first words that popped into her head. “I love kissing you!”
Instantly red-cheeked, she stammered, “I suppose you figured that out.” He merely smiled broadly and nodded, rigid hands flattened harshly against his thighs and breathing labored. In the shaded alcove, his eyes were glittering and nearly black. Lizzy noted it all and more, flushed further, and looked away.
Spying the fence and field beyond, she asked, “What were you thinking when you encountered me here that day? The day last year before we were engaged?”
She turned back to him, noting the faraway expression in his eyes even as he stared into her face, as he replied, “I thought my dreams had returned to torment me.” He spoke softly, voice husky, drawn inward in remembrance.
“What do you mean?”
Darcy jolted, met her eyes, and reddened. “Nothing, Elizabeth. I was just surprised, that is all.” He grew stubborn and refused to talk about it.
With all that had transpired since, Lizzy had totally forgotten both instances. Now, she sat on the makeshift bench and wondered afresh what had been racing through his mind. Knowing him as intimately as she now did, she could solve some of the riddles. Obviously he had not disliked her as she assumed but, in fact, was smitten. His confusion, hesitation, and lack of wit she understood now were due to his shyness coupled with the desire to converse with her. What she did not comprehend was the odd emotion on his face when he first saw her and the even odder comment about dreams.
She shook her head, vowed to ask him later, finished her apple, and opened her book.
Back at Netherfield, Darcy and Bingley returned from their hunt, several birds the richer. Georgiana informed her brother as to Elizabeth's whereabouts, and he left with a huge grin.
“Elizabeth… Elizabeth… Mrs. Darcy.”
Lizzy slowly opened her eyes, the hazy figure bent over her gradually focusing. “William?”
He smiled. “Miss Elizabeth, what a delightful surprise. Come here often, do you?”
She laughed, accepting his hand to assist her into a sitting position from the slumped pose she currently occupied in her slumber. He brushed off her skirts as he knelt in front of her. She smiled and caressed his face. “Yes, I come here often. However, the best occasions are when handsome gentlemen intrude.”
“And how often does that occur, pray tell?”
“A dozen or so, over the course of time, naturally.”
�
��A dozen, you say? That many? Any particular events or gentlemen of special import?”
Her fingers moved to the knots of his cravat as she replied, “Only one gentleman that is burned in my memory. He intruded upon me thrice. On the first occasion I noted he had the loveliest neck and my thoughts were quite wicked.”
Darcy was genuinely surprised. “Truly? I did not suspect. I have been under the mistaken impression that you hated me then.”
“No. At that time I simply thought you annoying and pompous. Also, I had concluded that you disliked me.”
“Foolish girl,” he said as he ran his fingers over her lips.
“Yes, to be sure. Of course, mistaken impressions aside, your neck is quite delectable and I was not so completely foolish as to not notice!” She leaned in to his now bared neck for a smattering of delightful kisses. He sighed happily, a hand encompassing each slender ankle. Murmuring against his skin, “Why were you racing so crazily that day, William, and looking at me so strangely?”
“I always looked at you strangely, my dear, because I was enchanted by you and utterly at a loss as to how to proceed. You dazzled me at every turn and rendered me mute and dull. A woman as intelligent as you had no choice but to deduce my moronic behavior unworthy and reproachable!”
Lizzy shook her head and clasped his face with her hands. “Do not say that! I was the fool to not see your worth and love.” She kissed him. “You did not answer my question, however. Why on that particular day were you running so dangerously and later spoke of dreams tormenting you?”
“Oh, yes, I remember now.” He smiled and laughed. “I had forgotten.” He sat back onto the grass, lightly massaging her calves and feet. “You surely remember my confession to you, dearest, of the nature of many of my dreams involving you?” She nodded, blushing slightly. “Later, once we were betrothed, those dreams of making love with you were welcomed. Practice sessions, I deemed them.”
“William!” she declared in mock shock, and he laughed.
“However, earlier, during my sojourn at Netherfield and your abiding there, the dreams began and they were not welcomed. Enjoyed certainly, but I was mortified once I awoke. I was dismayed that I, Darcy of Pemberley, a gentleman with superior temperance and constraint, would lose control even in my sleep so as to consider you in such a way. Yet, I could not deny how… pleasant… it was.” He chuckled. “It was a torment, Elizabeth. I was madly in love with you, yet successfully fought against it during my waking hours. Then I would dream of you in such a vivid and delightful yet crude and disrespectful manner. Mornings were horrible. I would wake in a sweat, weary, aroused, and ashamed.”
He paused, gazing into her beloved eyes. “On retrospection, I was never successful in denying my affection for you. I simply managed to deceive myself, employing my years of discipline to bury my thoughts and urges. That particular morning was one of many in which I woke in a heightened state, unfit for company, and in need of oblivion from my decadent musings. Parsifal offers that. We love running fast, as you are aware. There is a freedom to the exercise. You become one with your horse, and the power and concentration necessary invade your mind and erase all else. It is liberating.” He paused again, smiling dreamily and firmly gripping her feet in his lap. “When I encountered you so abruptly, standing on the fence watching me, my first thought was that I was still in a dream. God, Elizabeth, if you only knew how beautiful you were! Your simple dress, the green one it was, no bonnet or fancy gloves, your hair pinned but loose about your lovely face, your feet bare, your eyes shining and cheeks flushed. You took my breath away! Nothing in my dreams compared to the reality of how stunning you were. I wanted to leap off Parsifal and into your arms with an aching desire beyond anything I had ever experienced in all my life, and it was only my embarrassingly acute aroused state that kept me on his back!”
“Hmmm… Perhaps you should have leapt, William. Think how differently things may have gone.”
“Do not tease me, Elizabeth. I was a beast, and you would have slapped me or kicked me in a painful location, and rightfully so!”
“Maybe not. I was examining your neckline far too boldly and reliving the touch of your hand. That is why I snapped at you so rudely. You unnerved me.”
Darcy kissed her covered knees, laying his cheek on her thigh. “No use contemplating might have beens, my love. We are here now and you are more beautiful and I am yet again breathless and captivated. Now, as then, my mind and heart are consumed by you, dearest wife.”
Lizzy beamed, fingering his soft hair as they stared at each other. “I love you, William. Thank you for sharing with me, for persevering in your suit, and for tolerating my fluctuating moods. I do not deserve you but am abundantly grateful that you are mine!”
He rose to his knees, hugging her body with hands on her hips. “I am eternally yours and you are eternally mine.” He kissed her slowly and thoroughly, voice husky when he next spoke, “We need to return to the manor for dinner, love. Are you feeling well?”
“Very well,” she whispered, seizing his mouth while hands roamed over his chest, unbuttoning the waistcoat. “Love me, Fitzwilliam, as you wanted to before.”
“Elizabeth! It is broad daylight. You…” She strengthened the force of her kiss and focused her fondling, eliciting a deep groan from her husband. Finally, struggling for breath and control under the insistence of her attack, he uttered, “Oh sweet Lord, Lizzy! Someone could happen by. We should not…”
“No one passes this way, my lover. No one but you, that is.” She pushed his unresisting body backward onto the grass, following with kisses over his now exposed abdomen.
Gasping, he clasped her shoulders. “What… What about those other dozen men?”
She looked up in surprise, “There were never any others, William. Surely you knew I was jesting?”
He grinned. “I had to be certain.” Relenting happily, he pulled her up, kissing roughly. “Elizabeth, how I love you! Is there any fantasy or dream you would not fulfill for me?”
She smiled, caressing his face. “Why are you so certain I am fulfilling merely a fantasy of yours, William? Did you not think I ever dreamt of your delectable neck and ardent kisses and arousal as witnessed under these hanging branches?” Nibbling the tender flesh of his earlobe, she whispered, blowing softly into his ear, “I am the clever one, you recall. May I show you what I have imagined?”
“Yes!”
Lizzy sat up, straddling his thighs. With a sensual smile she unclasped the buttons providentially located down the front of her bodice, opening her gown enough to expose her firm, increasingly ample breasts. Many of her gowns were already unable to comfortably contain her bosom now, the purchase of new clothing being a priority once in Town. Darcy loved her shape as it naturally was, never once entertaining the thought of his wife lacking in any way. Nonetheless, he had to admit, internally only, that her newer voluptuous form was enticing. Extending aching hands to caress her, licking dry lips in anticipation of the pleasure she offered, his groin clenching and rising as he avidly watched her movements.
Lizzy smiled, jubilant at the instant reaction evoked. “Remember when we kissed here the day before our wedding? You were aroused then, not for the first time, after holding and kissing me. I had only seen baby boys or marble statues so had no real concept of what you looked like. I tried to visualize.” She laughed at his shocked expression. “I told you I was wicked, beloved, and had fantasies of my own. Of course, I pictured it poorly. I am still stunned at how beautiful you are, Fitzwilliam, how potent and… grand. Every portion of you is utter perfection. I suppose I should have been aghast at myself, but even on our wedding night when first I beheld you, I only experienced excitement and pleasure. Never embarrassment or fear. Now I am fully cognizant of how impressive your physique, how rapturous the feel of you inside me. How can I contain my desire for you knowing what you hide under your layers of clothing and how you awaken my lust and satisfy me?” She chuckled, amused at his blush.
She grasp
ed his hands, pulling him to a sitting position. She searched his blue, love saturated eyes, tears suddenly welling in her brown ones. “Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she whispered, “What a gift you are in my life! I hope you understand that as much as I yearn for you physically, and I do every moment of every day, it is your heart and soul that have captured me. If we could no longer make love for some reason I would ache for you, but I would still love you as profoundly because you live inside my very essence.” She cupped his face fiercely. “Do you know this, my husband?”
Strong, warm hands palmed and stroked her neck and cheeks while he kissed her by way of reply. Passion, devotion, unity, and worship spoke eloquently through the intimate activity. In hoarse, resonant tones he said, “Elizabeth, I know I dwell in your heart and soul because you reside in mine as well. Apart from you I am shattered and fragmented. In your presence I am whole. It shall never be otherwise. I have not the minutest doubt of your love for me, beloved wife. It amazes me yet that you love me, but I do not dispute it.”
Words were lost in a rapturous kiss, Lizzy loving him with a rhythmic swaying motion, arms tenaciously over his shoulders and hands weaved in his hair. Oblivious to the outside world, which thankfully remained empty of all but a few birds and one rabbit, they danced and joined in perfect harmony. Pleasures of the flesh merged with the supernatural coalescing of spirits as two souls become one, not exclusively at the pinnacle of carnal glory but for all eternity.
Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley tds-2 Page 6