Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition)

by Annabella Bloom

  “Of how lucky I am to have married you, Mrs. Darcy,” answered he.

  She smiled brightly, loving the sound of her new name, even as it was still unusual to hear herself addressed as such. “And what kind of life do you see us living, Mr. Darcy? Shall we be happy?”

  His answer was to pull the carriage curtains and join her on her seat and take her face into his hands. He smiled, his eyes filled with tenderness, as he joined his lips with hers. The passion he had stirred inside her on their walk was easily rekindled into a burning flame that ignited every nerve in her body. She instantly grabbed hold of his arms, keeping him close, digging her fingers into his jacket. Lips moved down her jaw to her neck. She shivered to feel the intimate kiss.

  Darcy drew his hands down her throat to her chest. A warm palm cupped her breast, massaging her through her gown. Elizabeth ran her fingers into his hair, sighing in pleasure. There was freedom in knowing they had every right to come together and need not fear retribution for their passion, just as there was pleasure in knowing that Mr. Darcy was hers — forever and completely.

  “You have made me the happiest of men,” he whispered, nipping at her earlobe, “and I will spend my life making sure you are the happiest of women. All you have to do is ask me and, if it is within my power to give, it shall be yours.”

  Elizabeth sighed, thinking of all the years they had ahead of them. The touch of his hand, his lips, his breath, all begged for a response. Her body obliged with heat and moisture between her thighs. She trembled, moaning weakly. The feelings she had suppressed during most of their official engagement surged forth, combining all of her late night fantasies of him with the reality of the moment.

  She thrust her hands beneath his jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. “I want to look at you.”

  Darcy did not hesitate to grant her request. He undressed, slowly, allowing her to see him; each inch of hard flesh revealed to the harsh line of sunlight streaming into the carriage window where the curtains were slightly parted. She touched his chest, tracing the lines of it with her fingertip, learning the texture of his skin and the reactions of his body.

  When he wore only his breeches, he set to work on her gown. She blushed in modesty, but did not stop his exploration, did not take her eyes from his face. With precision, he revealed her flesh as he had his, slowly and steadily until all that remained of her clothing was the thin linen of her chemise. A hand brushed across her nipple, hardening it.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered as if that one word caused him great pain and great joy. “You cannot know how much I long for you. I should endeavor to wait until I can lay you in a proper bed, but I find myself compelled to be near you. Knowing you are my wife, and that there is nothing keeping us apart is more than a mortal can resist.”

  “I am not asking you to resist,” she assured him, reaching to take off her chemise. His eyes took in her naked form with pleasure. “You know me too well to expect me to express feelings I do not have. I know not how to give false modesty. I want you to touch me, and kiss me, and make love to me again. You cannot know how much I long for you, and I shall not pretend to want to wait for a proper bed when, in truth, it does not matter to me where we are so long as I can have you.”

  She watched his reaction to her soft speech through the dark sweep of her lashes, hoping she did not disappoint him. A mild surprise followed the forthright statement, but was soon replaced by a look that combined all the masculine pride and husbandly joy imaginable.

  “I am pleased you desire me. It is more than I could have hoped. You may have me whenever you wish, my love,” he assured her. “You have but to ask.”

  Elizabeth maneuvered the best she could manage in the carriage. Darcy made quick work of his breeches, pulling them from his hips. She found her eyes instantly on that point of interest that had occupied much of her thoughts since their first time together. Now, seeing the thick member, standing tall and proud from his hips, she smiled.

  He touched her chest, naked flesh to flesh. She gasped, pressing her hand onto his thigh. Several minutes passed in the gentle exploration of their bodies. Elizabeth learned his feel, and watched his reactions. Finally, her hand moved to the stiff arousal, taking the firm mass in hand.

  Darcy rejoiced in his great luck in finding not only love, but passion. Thinking of how many times it was spoken throughout society that young wives lacked the passion of mistresses, he chuckled. It would appear in this instance that society was wrong.

  At his laugh, Elizabeth’s hand stilled. He leaned back on the seat, beckoning her to sit astride him. She obeyed, unquestioningly. When she looked at him, love and trust shone in her eyes. He knew that no man would ever be able to count himself as fortunate. For in his wife he had found something better than perfection. He had found the other half of his soul.

  They came together, bodies joining and moving in time with the rocking of the carriage. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Their pleasure built, coursing through them as they moved towards a shared purpose. Then it happened, a beautiful eruption; muscles tensed, bodies strained, rocking and thrusting as they met with the sweet release that only such primal acts could give. They were perfection.

  EPILOGUE

  HAPPY FOR ALL HER MATERNAL FEELINGS was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. With what delighted pride she afterwards visited Mrs. Bingley, and talked of Mrs. Darcy, may be guessed. Unfortunately it could not be said, for the sake of her family, that the accomplishment of her earnest desire in the establishment of so many of her children produced so happy an effect as to make her a sensible, amiable, well-informed woman for the rest of her life. Though perhaps it was lucky for her husband, who might not have relished domestic felicity in so unusual a form, that she still was occasionally nervous and invariably silly.

  Mr. Bennet missed his second daughter exceedingly. His affection for her drew him oftener from home than anything else could. He delighted in going to Pemberley, especially when he was least expected.

  Mr. Bingley and Jane remained at Netherfield only a twelvemonth. So near a vicinity to her mother and Meryton relations was not desirable even to his easy temper, or her affectionate heart. The darling wish of his sisters was then gratified. He bought an estate in a neighboring county to Derbyshire, and Jane and Elizabeth, in addition to every other source of happiness, were within thirty miles of each other. Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a temper as Lydia and, removed from the influence of Lydia’s example, she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia’s society she was carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham frequently invited her to come and stay, with the promise of balls and young men, her father would never consent to it.

  Mary was the only daughter who remained at home. She was necessarily drawn from the pursuit of accomplishments by Mrs. Bennet’s being unable to sit alone. Mary was obliged to mix more with the world, but she could still moralize over every morning visit. As she was no longer mortified by comparisons between her sisters’ beauty and her own, it was suspected by her father that she submitted to the change without much reluctance.

  As for Wickham and Lydia, their characters suffered no revolution from the marriage of her sisters. He bore with philosophy the conviction that Elizabeth must now become acquainted with whatever of his ingratitude and falsehood had before been unknown to her, and was not wholly without hope that Darcy might yet be prevailed on to make his fortune. The congratulatory letter which Elizabeth received from Lydia on her marriage, explained to her that, by his wife at least, if not by himself, such a hope was cherished. The letter was in part to this effect, “My dear Lizzy, I wish you joy. If you love Mr. Darcy half as well as I do my dear Wickham, you must be very happy. It is a great comfort to have you so rich, and when
you have nothing else to do, I hope you will think of us. Wickham would like a place at court, and I do not think we shall have quite money enough to live upon without help. Any place would do, of about three or four hundred a year. However, do not speak to Mr. Darcy about it, if you had rather not. Yours, Lydia Wickham.”

  As it happened that Elizabeth had much rather not, she endeavored in her answer to put an end to every entreaty and expectation of the kind. Such relief, however, as it was in her power to afford, by the practice of what might be called economy in her own private expenses, she frequently sent them. It had always been evident to her that such an income as theirs, under the direction of two persons so extravagant in their wants, and heedless of the future, must be very insufficient to their support. Whenever they changed their quarters, either Jane or herself were sure of being applied to for some little assistance towards discharging their bills. They were always moving from place to place in quest of a cheap situation, and always spending more than they ought. His affection for her soon sunk into indifference. Hers lasted a little longer, and in spite of her youth and her manners, she retained all the claims to reputation which her marriage had given her. For, the skills of her youth were aptly applied in marriage and she was able to take many more secret lovers than her husband, and never be caught outright at it. To Lydia’s pleasure, her new station made the ruse of virginity and innocence completely unnecessary, and she could be as wild and varied in her tastes as ever she wanted.

  Though Darcy could never receive Wickham at Pemberley, for Elizabeth’s sake he assisted him further in his profession. Lydia was occasionally a visitor there, when her husband was gone to enjoy himself in London or Bath, and with the Bingleys they both of them frequently stayed so long, that even Bingley’s good humor was overcome, and he proceeded so far as to talk of giving them a hint to be gone.

  Miss Bingley was very deeply mortified by Darcy’s marriage, but as she thought it advisable to retain the right of visiting at Pemberley, she dropped all her resentment, was fonder than ever of Georgiana, almost as attentive to Darcy as heretofore, and paid off every arrear of civility to Elizabeth.

  Pemberley was now Georgiana’s home, and the attachment of the sisters was exactly what Darcy had hoped. They were able to love each other as well as they intended. Georgiana had the highest opinion in the world of Elizabeth, though at first she often listened with an astonishment bordering on alarm at her lively, sportive, manner of talking to her brother. He, who had always inspired in herself a respect which almost overcame her affection, she now saw the object of open pleasantry. Her mind received knowledge which had never before fallen in her way. By Elizabeth’s instructions, she began to comprehend that a woman may take liberties with her husband which a brother will not always allow in a sister more than ten years younger than himself.

  Lady Catherine was extremely indignant on the marriage of her nephew, and as she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character in her reply to the letter which announced its arrangement, she sent him language so very abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that for some time all intercourse was at an end. But at length, by Elizabeth’s persuasion, he was prevailed on to overlook the offense, and seek a reconciliation. After a little further resistance on the part of his aunt, her resentment gave way, either to her affection for him, or her curiosity to see how his wife conducted herself. She waited on them at Pemberley, in spite of that pollution which its woods had received, not merely from the presence of such a mistress, but the visits of her uncle and aunt from the city.

  With the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy, as well as Elizabeth, really loved them. They were both ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who, by bringing her into Derbyshire, had been the means of uniting them.

  It was after one such happy visit drew to an end that Elizabeth found herself quite in raptures with her husband, which in itself was not unusual. The familiarity of marriage had not lessened one bit of her affection for him, nor her desire to be next to him whenever possible. They found a great many things to discuss, never lacking in the daily pleasures, and never had to find a reason to be in each other’s company, for that is where they were whenever they could be.

  Threading her arm through his, as the Gardiners’ carriage took them away, she waited for him to shut the door and walk with her into their home. “And how was your fishing this morning, Mr. Darcy? Did you catch our supper or will we starve?”

  “I did not catch a thing, Mrs. Darcy,” he answered, smiling in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “But it is something I will soon rectify.” Then, mindless of where they were, he spun around, lifting her into his arms to carry her up the large sweep of stairs. “For now I have caught you.”

  “Yes, you have captured me, my darling husband.” She giggled. “I only hope you do not intend on throwing me back.”

  “Never,” he swore. “I shall never let you escape.”

  Though they had separate rooms, they spent every night in the same bed, and sometimes, like he now intended, they spent the afternoons there as well. With all company gone and Georgiana practicing her music, they were at leisure to enjoy each other fully until supper.

  Darcy’s hands held her tightly, carrying her as if she did not weigh a thing. His lips brushed her temple and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Deep inside, she knew it would always be this way with them. Every second seemed to make her love him more, and every day she settled more comfortably into her role as his wife — though by no means were they perfect, they were happy and in love, and such things were a perfection all their own.

  Running her fingers into his hair, she turned to him. As their lips touched, he quickened his pace, causing her to giggle against his mouth. So sweet were these moments! Elizabeth forgot everything but him, his kiss, his touch, his love. When their lips parted and her feet hit the ground, they were alone in his room. The place smelled of him, and had become one of her favorite rooms in the house, for it was where they could disappear into each other’s arms.

  Darcy pulled at his cravat, loosening it. The intent in his eyes mirrored her feelings. “Have I told you how much I love you, Mrs. Darcy?”

  “Not half so much as I love you, Mr. Darcy.” Happiness filled them as they came together, and they both knew that nothing in the world would ever keep them apart.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  MICHELLE M. PILLOW, is one of the authors writing under the pseudonym of Annabella Bloom. She is the author of All Things Romance and a multi-published, award-winning author writing in many romance fiction genres. She has won the 2006 Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine‘s Reviewers’ Choice Award for her historical romance, Maiden and the Monster. Her love of history has led her to pursuing a degree in that field, as well as an appreciation for the classical novel. Michelle has a monthly column with Paranormal Underground Magazine, co-owns www.ravenhappyhour.com that hosts contests and free reads, and is actively seeking that next great adventure. She is married (madly in love) and has a wonderful family.

  Michelle would love to hear from you and tries to answer her emails in a timely fashion. That is, if the current hero will let her go long enough to check the computer. Readers are welcome to contact her through her website, www.MichellePillow.com.

  JANE AUSTEN was an English novelist whose works of romantic fiction remain some of the most beloved in all of literature and have inspired hundreds of adaptations in both print and film. She never married and, as far as we know, she died a virgin. More’s the pity.

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ight © 2012 by F+W Media, Inc.

  Originally published under the title Pride and Prejudice: The Wild and Wanton Edition by Annabella Bloom and Jane Austen, copyright (C) 2011 by F+W Media, Inc., ISBN 10: 1-4405-0660-4, ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-0660-4.

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6253-9

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6253-2

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6254-7

  eISBN 13: 978-1-44056254-9

  The source material, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, referenced for this book can be found at www.gutenberg.org/etext/1342.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

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