The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy

by Sara Angelini

  “How long will they stay out there?” she asked.

  “Until we give them something,” he replied. He pulled off his jacket and she loosened his tie. She opened the door, put her arm out and dropped the tie on the floor. That was met by a raft of cheers and hoots and she closed the door. He shook his head at her.

  “That won’t do at all,” he smirked. He kissed her again and let his hands roam over her body, pulling the delicate fabric of her dress up to her hips. He knelt and rolled down one of her stockings, then shook it out. He opened the door and tossed it out to the anxious crowd. There was a burst of cheers and laughter and the crowd triumphantly carried their trophies back to the ballroom. He smiled at her.

  “British tradition?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “I have no idea,” he answered, laughing. “It’s done in my family, though.”

  He looked at her and felt his chest tighten. He remembered the first time he made love with her, in this very room. He felt that eagerness again, the anticipation of the beginning of something wonderful. With a little laugh, he caught her up in his arms and kissed her.

  With some relish, she disposed of his waistcoat and shirt. Then she stepped away from him with a mischievous glint in her eye. She walked to the dresser and removed her earrings, watching him behind her in the mirror. He followed her with a small smile on his lips.

  “Mrs. Darcy, are you teasing me?” he asked as he placed his hands on her shoulders. Their eyes met in the mirror and she laughed.

  “I seem to recall that anticipation was part of the reward, Mr. Darcy,” she replied pertly.

  “That assumes that one will at some point actually receive the reward,” he laughed softly into her neck. “Otherwise it’s quite frustrating.” She answered with her own soft laugh and let her cheek brush against his head. He let his hands slide down her arms and then put his arms around her waist.

  “Rest assured, Mr. Darcy, you shall have your reward for all your efforts,” she murmured.

  “Mrs. Darcy,” he whispered into her ear. He looked up and grinned at her in the mirror. “I quite like the sound of that,” he said. He assumed a serious look and said, “Mr. So-and-so, may I introduce you to my wife Elizabeth Darcy.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she sighed contentedly, rubbing her cheek to his. He kissed her cheek and then let his lips linger in the hollow beneath her ear. She closed her eyes and savored the smell of him so close to her. Moss. Leather. They were strong, dependable, masculine smells that brought her both excitement and contentment.

  He moved his fingertips from her hands up to her shoulders and brushed along the straps of her gown. He swept her hair aside and kissed one bare shoulder. He trailed lingering kisses from her shoulder to the curve of her neck and he smiled at the memory of the seductive power of those curls at the nape of her neck. Now and forever he could pay them the attention they deserved. He kissed her skin, letting his tongue slide lightly over the warm, smooth area of her neck.

  With shaking fingers, he unzipped her dress. He watched her in the mirror as she let one strap fall from her shoulder, exposing the smooth flesh just below her collarbones. How he wanted to kiss the hollow there. His fingers slipped the other strap over her shoulder and, with just a slight push, the dress puddled about her feet. She stood before him wearing lacy white panties and just one stocking. He ran his fingers over her collarbones, pressed the warm skin with his palms and then cupped her breasts in his hands. He studied their form in the mirror, each round orb perfectly matched to his hands. He gently ran his palm under the curve beneath, then put his hands over her breasts, allowing her nipples to peek between his fingers.

  Elizabeth watched as he undressed her, as he explored her skin with his lips and hands. She felt the prickly hair of his chest scratching lightly against her back and shoulders as his arms were around her. She smiled when he caught her breasts in his hands and leaned her head back into his neck.

  She turned in his arms to face him, winding her arms around his neck and pulling his head down to meet her lips. They kissed tenderly at first but Darcy could not resist the temptation of opening his eyes and looking in the mirror. He saw his hands on her bare back, her pale skin contrasted against his tanned arms. His pulse quickened as he watched his fingers trace the curve of her bottom, his fingertips pressing into that soft flesh.

  “Lizzy,” he whispered hoarsely, trembling with love, anticipation, and satisfaction all at once. She tucked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, unfastened them, and pushed them down. She sneaked her hands around his waist and let her fingers explore his firm rear. Each then removed the underpants of the other.

  At last they stood naked (but for her one stocking) before each other for the first time as husband and wife. She picked up her bouquet and began to pull flowers from it and place them in her hair. He took over and released her hair from its loose binding. When he was satisfied, he took the remainder of the bouquet and pulled off petals, sprinkling them on the bed sheets.

  Elizabeth began to remove her stocking when Darcy stopped her.

  “No, leave it. It’s sexy,” he said, smiling. She returned his grin and pulled the stocking back in place.

  They knelt on the bed facing each other. She held up her hands and he pressed his palms against hers, lacing their fingers together. He kissed her, parting her lips with his, plumbing her mouth with his tongue, an exploration which never lost its pleasure in repetition. He leaned over her, easing her backward. With a little laugh she caught herself on her hands and, looking behind her, scooted back. She pressed her back against the post of the 4-poster bed. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and lifted her arms, grasping the post over her head. Then she looked at him invitingly. Darcy leaned back and enjoyed the view of his wife stretched and displayed before him. Why had they never used the post before?

  While she was displayed thus, he indulged in an exploration of her body. He suckled her breasts, kissed and nipped her thighs, explored her folds with his fingers and tongue, while she braced herself against the post. He returned to kiss her, putting his arms around her and the post. She settled herself on his lap and, with great enjoyment, he pushed himself into her.

  “My god, Lizzy, you’re so beautiful,” he half-laughed, half murmured in her ear as he pushed into her, pulling against the post as he did. They moved in synchronized rhythm for a few moments, before he pulled away from her. While the post was intriguing, their upright position was not allowing him the closeness he wanted. He wrapped his arms around her and fell backwards, pulling her on top of him with a laugh. When he looked up at her, his laughter was cut short by his complete loss of breath.

  He had never seen anything so beautiful; if he died at this moment he would be a happy man. She sat over him, naked, hair down, flowers framing her face, looking like some kind of nymph. Her smile was seductive, amused, and tender all at the same time. She pressed her soft body against his and slid onto his erection.

  Elizabeth looked down at her husband as she sat atop him. She began a slow slide along his length and put her hands under his hips to pull him closer to her. Darcy tipped his head back and closed his eyes, a smile on his lips. She rode him for a short time, listening to the soft moans that came from his throat when she changed pace or kissed his neck. When she sensed that his ascent was too quick, she pulled away from him.

  He opened his eyes reluctantly but eager to continue their activities. She knelt before him once again, that single stocking enticing him to no end. He gently and playfully pushed her onto her belly and set about kissing her. He paid special attention to kissing her rear, letting his tongue explore the joint of cheek and leg where only before his fingers had roamed. He ardently admired her bottom, was seduced by her rear cleavage as it emerged from her low back, curves rising like low rolling hills.

  “You have the most perfect ass,” he said as he kissed her cheek, then licked it with the flat of his tongue. She laughed and looked at him over her shoulder.

&n
bsp; “It’s been called many things, but never perfect,” she replied. He shook his head and pushed himself onto her back.

  “But has anyone else ever known it as well as I have?” he smiled. He lay over top of her and pushed his leg between hers. “Has anyone ever known your body as well as I have?” he asked her huskily, nuzzling her neck.

  “No,” she answered in a whisper. “Nobody has ever known me as well as you. Not even myself.”

  He rolled her to her back and engulfed her in a deep, passionate kiss. He was done with play and exploration. He wanted to bind her to him in soul and spirit forever. She shared his fervent kisses and twisted her legs in his. He enjoyed the sensuality of her hips rising to meet his. He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose, and her lips. Her ankles rested inside his calves and his hand rested on the lace top of her stocking, caressing and gripping her thigh.

  “Elizabeth.” Her name bubbled from his lips unbidden, pushed out by the sheer amount of joy in his chest; there was no room left for air. She smiled under his vocal caress and tightened her arms around him.

  “Yes, Will, I’m your Lizzy,” she whispered breathlessly in his ear, perilously close to her own peak. He thrust himself into her with joyous abandon, his breath coming in gasping half-laughs, half-sobs. He let himself go, completely heedless of who might hear. The bed creaked and groaned. She dug her fingers into his low back and arched her torso into his.

  She cried out as she cascaded over the edge of orgasm, her mind too preoccupied with pleasure to formulate any actual words. All he heard was her sharp intake of breath and then an exclamation that sounded like “OH!” and then she was pulsing around him, writhing beneath him, inviting him to join in her pleasure.

  He clung on for a few seconds more before reaching his own climax. When he did, he found it in a shuddering, crashing paroxysm of pleasure buried deeply inside her, flowers crushed as his fingers tightly gripped her hair.

  “Lizzy!” he exclaimed loudly. He had never before been so compelled to express his pleasure vocally, to let her hear how much pleasure she brought him. Upon reflection later, he supposed it had to do with the sheer, shout-at-the-top-of-your-lungs, lunatic joy he was feeling. But at the moment, he really was beyond coherent thought.

  ***

  Having slept very little on their wedding night, Darcy and Elizabeth slept in the next morning. It was 9 o’clock before either of them even stirred and another hour before they rose. Mrs. Reynolds had ventured to attempt to rouse them but retreated upon hearing the unmistakable and unguarded sounds of lovemaking when she approached their door.

  Elizabeth lay back against the pillows, smiling in cat-like satisfaction. Darcy leaned against the post at the foot of the bed, a similar expression softening his features as he faced her. She gently placed her foot against his chest and he stroked her ankle absently.

  “You will wear me out, woman,” he said softly. She chuckled quietly and pulled one of the scattered flowers from under her hip. She perched the withered, broken thing jauntily behind her ear.

  “You’re a very chatty lover, you know. You go two days without saying anything and as soon as we start, you’re making speeches. It’s quite amazing,” she teased him. He smiled.

  “Perhaps I have an oral fixation,” he suggested. She laughed and he stroked a hand over her calf. She agreed that indeed he had an oral fixation but as it was a very pleasurable obsession, in which he had just indulged, she forgave it.

  “We really should get up, we have guests,” she said without making any move to get out of bed.

  “Yes. You first,” he replied with a languid smile. They looked at each other for a few more moments and then both laughed. “We’re hopeless,” he grinned.

  “We do have to catch a flight this afternoon,” she said. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “It’s a surprise. I’ll tell you that it’s a four hour flight. I’m sure you’ll figure it out when we get to the airport. Have you packed a bathing suit?” he smiled.

  At the sound of a rap at the door, they both hastily put pillows over their bodies.

  “Yes?” Darcy called, annoyed.

  “Get the hell out of bed, you two!” came Richard’s voice. Elizabeth grinned while Darcy scowled. “It’s not like you’ve never done it before!” Richard continued.

  “I hope you slept well,” Darcy called and smirked.

  “Damn good of you to put me right below your room!” he called through the door. “I understand that you are very charming, Lizzy. You have some fine assets that my cousin admires. I believe I could recite them, if you like. Where shall I start? With her fine eyes? Or her lovely...”

  “Enough! We’re on our way,” Elizabeth laughed. Satisfied with his taunting, Richard left. He enjoyed giving Darcy a hard time; it was one of his favorite pastimes. But in truth, he’d heard very little of their activities, having spent the night in Caroline’s room down the hall.

  Reluctantly, Darcy and Elizabeth rose and dressed to meet their guests for the wedding brunch. While Darcy was normally fastidious about his grooming, his languid mood this morning overcame him. He did not shave. He pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and was content to appear barefoot. Elizabeth ran a careless brush through her hair, aiming mostly to get all the flower petals out. She slipped into a pair of jeans and put on Darcy’s suit shirt from the previous day, tucking it halfway into her jeans and rolling up the sleeves. They shared a final lingering embrace before they exited their room.

  They entered the dining room, Darcy’s hand resting possessively on Elizabeth’s shoulder, thumb stroking the back of her neck. Most of their guests laughed, either privately or outright, at the completely besotted expression on Darcy’s face. They were forgiven their rudeness in oversleeping and they circulated through the room together, hugging and greeting their guests.

  Try as he would to maintain his dignity, Darcy was unable to stop touching her. He held her hand or let his hand rest on her waist as they walked about the room. When they sat at their table, he put his hand on her leg. He brushed her hand when passing the butter dish. Finally, he stopped trying to suppress his desire; he put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him for a lingering kiss. She smiled under his lips and there was a little murmur of “awww”s in the room, and one snort from Richard.

  “Thank you,” he whispered against her lips, smiling.

  “For what?” she asked.

  “Everything.”

  Chapter 38

  Elizabeth stepped onto the deck of the yacht with a sense of wonderment. She had been surprised indeed to learn that the first five days of their honeymoon were to be spent sailing in the Greek islands aboard the Star Gazer, a fifty-foot yacht owned by Thanos Latsis, a close friend of Darcy’s. They were greeted warmly by Thanos and his wife, who introduced them to the crew. Both Darcy and Elizabeth experienced a little shiver when she was introduced as “Mrs. Darcy.” Thanos winked and grinned then, with warm hugs and a gift of champagne, he left them. They waved as the ship pulled out from dock into the sinking sun.

  Darcy stood by the railing with his arm around Elizabeth, watching the mainland grow smaller as they sailed away. She nestled her head into his shoulder and he stroked her arm. The sun cast a golden glow on them, warming them despite the wind.

  “Do you remember my telling you about an uncle who runs around his estate in nothing but trainers?” Darcy said into her ear. She smiled and nodded. “That’s Thanos. He’s not technically an uncle but he was very close to my father. I was sorry that he couldn’t make it to our wedding.” He paused for a moment.

  “My father would have loved you,” he said quietly. “And I think you would have liked him.”

  “Tell me about him,” she said, snuggling into his arm.

  “Ah, my father was a complex man,” Darcy laughed quietly. “He was conflicted. He was a proud aristocrat but also had a strong work ethic. He couldn’t stand the idea of having so much money and not earning it or putting it to good
use. He wouldn’t hear of me not having a profession, even though financially I would never need to work. Luckily I shared his work ethic or we would never have gotten along. As it was, we got on admirably. I respected him a great deal, even when I was thumbing my nose at him by racing. And I think he was secretly proud of me for it. He taught me a great deal about being responsible and protecting those I love.”

  “How did he meet your mother?” she asked, encouraging him to tell her more about his family.

  “They met on a bus in San Francisco, believe it or not. He was on business there and she was studying music and she was always in the same spot on the bus when he got on. They would look at each other and nod or smile and then after a few stops he would get off and she would go on to wherever she was going. He spent the whole summer looking at her but never spoke to her. Then one day, he stayed on beyond his stop and got off at hers. And he was in love before he knew it.” He looked down at her and smiled. “It seems to run in the family.”

  “It’s a very romantic story,” she smiled.

  “It quickly got very ugly as his family did not approve of her. She was American, for starters, and wasn’t rich either. She had no notable connections, nothing to recommend her to an aristocratic family. But my father was quite a bit older when he met her and he knew what he wanted. It was the only time in his life that he completely disregarded everything his family said and did what he wanted to do. He married her after knowing her for only six months. He was forty-seven and she was twenty-three. I came pretty quickly after,” he laughed.

  “And they lived happily ever after?” she smiled.

  “Well, not exactly. There was quite an age difference and my mother was very young.” He took a deep breath. “And a lot of eyebrows were raised when little blonde-haired, blue-eyed Georgiana was born to her brunette, green-eyed parents a full eleven years after I was.” He bit his lip contemplatively. “My father loved them both as much as ever but I think he always harbored a doubt. I don’t know the truth of it and I don’t want to.”