by Lory Lilian
She startled when she saw the shadow of her husband along the wall.
“Did I frighten you?” he asked gently as he came closer. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.
“You did not frighten me. Well, yes you did a little, as I did not expect to see you.” She smiled.
“Yet there was a time when you knew you would see me here every evening.”
“It is true, but that was more than six months ago.”
“Seven months,” he replied. Elizabeth smiled again and blushed.
Darcy knelt near the tub; his dark gaze met her eyes in a silent search of her thoughts. She shivered. He took her wet hand, wiped it with his fingers and then placed a burning kiss in her palm. She shivered again.
“Are you cold? Should I bring you some hot water?” he asked.
“The water is fine,” she replied. In fact, she did not much feel the water.
“Did you shiver because I kissed your hand?” he whispered, and she nodded, obviously uneasy.
“I am such a selfish, insensible idiot,” he confessed unexpectedly, and she burst out in a nervous laugh.
“You are neither selfish nor insensible,” she said moments later, staring at her fingers entwined with his.
“But I am an idiot, am I not?” he insisted, tipping her chin to meet his eyes. He leaned to reach her face, and his lips wiped her tears. “Please forgive me, Elizabeth.”
“There is nothing to forgive. It is I who should apologise; you were right in everything you said.”
“I was wrong and unfair, and I am surprised you are still speaking to me.”
“Well, since I am imprisoned in this bathtub, I can do little else but speak with you,” she teased him.
“That is true,” Darcy admitted. “You are my prisoner and will be so for the next four hours at least.”
“Hmm…I am afraid that will not be possible, sir. I shall have my rescue quite soon. Mary will be here any moment to help me prepare for dinner.”
“I have dismissed Mary for tonight,” he replied seriously. “As for dinner—it is prepared in my room.”
He leaned closer so his lips brushed against hers. “Are you displeased?”
She withdrew a few inches to look at him; her arms encircled his neck and warm water fell all over his robe. “Do you think I am displeased, husband?”
His lips tasted hers for a short moment. “I hope not.”
She returned the kiss, biting his lower lip—as she had not done in months.
“What should I do for you to become certain, sir? Perhaps invite you to join me in here?”
Darcy broke the kiss; his thumb brushed against her wet, red lips.
“I have long waited for such an invitation, my dearest.”
“Then you have been a fool, sir. You should have known you needed no invitation to join me whenever and wherever you please.”
“That is very dangerous encouragement, Mrs. Darcy, as it gives me the right to take advantage of you. Are you aware of that?” Her right eyebrow rose as a mischievous smile twisted the corners of her mouth.
“Truly, sir? I was not aware of the danger. Thank you for enlightening me,” she replied in jest. Darcy laughed delightedly and kissed her hand.
“Let me help you out of the tub,” he said and brought her a towel and her robe. She looked at him, puzzled and slightly embarrassed by his indirect refusal of her daring invitation.
He covered her in the robe and unexpectedly took her in his arms; her arms gathered around his neck, and she cast a quick glance at him, only to meet the smile of satisfaction in his eyes.
“You are disappointed I took you out of the water, are you not?”
“No, it is just that…You said you waited so long and I thought…”
They were already at the door to his room when he stopped to whisper close to her ear. “You thought correctly, my love. However, I decided to postpone accepting your invitation because the tub is not comfortable enough for the way I planned to spend these next few hours.”
“Oh…” she whispered as he entered his bedchamber, holding her tightly.
He put her down on the settee near the fireplace. On a small table was a silver tray with some dishes, but she paid no attention to their contents. She felt her husband watching her closely; he sat near her and removed her robe, covered her in a dry one and then embraced her; she cuddled to his chest, and her hands took his.
“There is much more food in the dressing room…for later,” he said and she could feel the amusement in his voice, mixed with all those signs of passion she knew so well.
“I am not so very hungry,” she replied. “I am content just to stay here with you like this.” One of her hands released his and moved up his torso. “Your robe is wet too, William. You should change before you get cold.”
He gently pulled her aside. “My dear wife, if you are content just to stay near me, I am afraid you will be disappointed very soon. As for my wet robe—it is indeed uncomfortable.”
His voice had become deep and grave, and each of his words made her quiver. His voice, his glances, his movements, and even his breathing were insinuating, flirtatious, passionate—and demanding.
She swallowed with some difficulty, trying to control her trembling—but with no success. She had not changed at all—and neither had he. He said she was his prisoner for the next few hours, but she knew very well that she was also a prisoner of her own love and passion—imprisoned for her entire life.
“Then you should remove your robe,” she said, licking her suddenly dry lips while she struggled to hold his intense gaze. She untied his robe and pulled it from his shoulders; he wore nothing beneath it.
“I should go and get another one while we are eating.”
“Yes you should—when we eat.”
He moved closer to her and she leaned back against the settee.
“Are you not hungry, Elizabeth? When we were in the carriage, you said you were starving. I do not want to—
She cupped his face and pressed her lips against his. “You do not want what, husband, or better said—what is it that you want? Are you hungry?”
The scent of his naked skin intoxicated her; he was almost atop her now and she closed her eyes to feel his weight on her but she suddenly felt herself lifted in his arms and carried to his bed.
He placed her against the pillows, and his strong palm caressed her face, as his tongue tasted her earlobe.
“I am hungry indeed. I have been starving for you for a long time.”
“But why did you starve, my love?” She entered into his passionate game, moaning at his touches. “I have never rejected you, nor did I do anything to keep you away.”
“I was afraid—afraid it might be too soon after Will’s birth, afraid I might hurt you, afraid I might bother and tire you with my insistence—
“You should have asked me if you had any doubts; you should have told me what you wished.”
Breathing had become more difficult for her, and she was not certain whether she was still speaking coherently. Each of his caresses proved how much her skin had craved his touch.
“I shall tell you now, or perhaps I should better show you…” His lips brushed against hers one more time, and then his mouth followed his hands, travelling down to her throat, to her shoulders, resting a few moments upon her heart, and then lower, along her body, caressing, kissing, and tasting each spot of her silky skin.
“You have always been more eloquent with your gestures than with your words, husband.”
“And what is it that you want, Elizabeth?” He stopped his caresses and looked at her; under his intense stare, she had to open her eyes and, searching for air, gained courage to speak the truth.
“What I want is to make all your doubts and worries vanish, to make you always certain of how much I love and desire you, to feel your love and passion upon and inside my body.”
With each of her words, he leaned closer to her until his face was touching hers; her arms str
oked his back while her legs opened for him and encircled his waist. Holding his gaze a little longer, she had to close her eyes when she felt him crushing her with his weight, and his mouth covered her moans the moment he slid inside her.
The time went by in the rhythm of their joined movements, and Elizabeth could not say for how long their restrained passion searched for its eventual fulfilment. All she noticed from time to time—as her body struggled to recover from the exhaustion of pleasure—was the fire that became less intense as the logs within the fireplace burned one by one. It will be cold if the fire dies, she thought, and then she returned her face to meet her husband’s lips once more. She did not need the fire to keep her warm, as long as she could feel her husband’s passion deep within her body and his love deep within her soul.
***
Elizabeth, wrapped in her robe, watched her husband as he tried to remake the fire. A moment later, while he was preoccupied with his task, she silently exited the room, barefoot. When she returned a few minutes later, the fire was burning, and Darcy was filling her plate with food. He smiled at her.
“How is Will?”
“He is asleep; he sleeps so peacefully, my little treasure,” she replied, her eyes glowing with tenderness.
“How many times a night do you check on him?”
She laughed. “Yes, I know I am being unreasonable; even Mrs. Taylor scolded me that I disturb the poor child, entering the nursery so many times. She even suggested that we hire two maids to watch him for nothing.”
“Would you be more content if we were to hire three maids? Another one to watch the first two, and of course, Mrs. Taylor would watch the third maid to be sure she takes care in supervising the others.”
“You are mocking me, sir, and enjoy laughing at me, but you are no better; I know how many times you check on Will yourself.”
“It is not the same,” Darcy replied. “I am the master of the house, and I may do whatever I want—just ask your mother.”
“Oh, I have not the smallest doubt of that, sir,” Elizabeth said, playfully. “You are twisting the rules however it pleases you.”
“It is the advantage of my ten thousand a year, madam.”
She laughed, and he sat near her, pulling the small table in front of them. Elizabeth started to eat, but he remained still, watching her. She looked at him, puzzled, her eyes still laughing from his last statement.
“Are you not hungry?”
“Not really. I feel quite satiated for the moment.”
She laughed again, her cheeks crimson. “I was speaking about the food.”
“As was I, madam. I feel content to have a glass of wine and watch you.”
She found nothing to say for a few minutes and only continued to take small bites; finally, he decided to put some cold meat on his plate and join her. She cast a quick glance at him and suddenly began to laugh.
“You had a wonderful idea ordering dinner in your room; this way we did not waste any time in changing our garments and preparing for dinner.”
“Indeed, we have employed our time much better.”
“I am being very serious, William. I mean, if this is acceptable to you, we could have all of our dinners in one of our rooms every time we dine alone.”
“Elizabeth—it is a splendid idea. Perhaps we can bring our son to stay with us for a couple of hours, just before you feed him and put him to bed.”
“I would love that.” She smiled lovingly.
“Of course, that would be possible only when we are at home for dinner and have no company.”
“I trust we will succeed in rearranging our social engagements to our mutual satisfaction,” she replied. “Besides, I have started to feel quite tired lately. Lady Fitzwilliam suggested I should rest more, so I plan to follow her advice.”
“Are you unwell?”
“Not all the time, but I am sure I will be—quite often—especially during the evenings when we have visitors.” Her eyebrow rose in challenge, and she leaned to whisper to him. “You seem surprised, husband. Perhaps you disapprove of my mischievous plan. I am ready to abandon it if it displeases you. I know only too well that disguise of every sort is your abhorrence.”
He stared at her, and for a moment the shadow of that painful day in their past clouded his visage—but only for a moment as Elizabeth’s smiling eyes were watching him closely, lightening any dark memory.
Darcy smiled and cupped her face. “Well, ‘disguise’ is a relative term, and so is my abhorrence.”
He paused a few moments, caressing her cheeks as their gazes locked.
“The only thing beyond any doubt or relativity is how ardently I admire and love you, Elizabeth.”
Epilogue
Pemberley, six years later!
“This place always amazes me,” Cassandra exclaimed with joy. “It seems to become lovelier with each passing year.”
“I believe the same,” said Elizabeth as they walked a grove together arm-in-arm. “Every time I come here, its beauty takes my breath away.”
The grove was situated on one of the hills surrounding Pemberley House. It was railed by trees, arranged almost in a circle, and flowers of all colours were spread around, warmed by the late August sun. Behind the trees, a stream with clear water completed the brilliant picture of light and colour.
“This garden was made by Papa especially for Mama and for me,” young William exclaimed with pride, his back straight, his expression serious. “It is only for our family and for Aunt Georgiana, but she married last month, and she is on a tour with my new uncle now,” the boy continued to explain seriously, as if the Fitzwilliams were not aware of that news.
“We only allow very special guests here,” he continued, forgetting that the Fitzwilliams had visited many times in the last few years.
“I see. And we are special guests?” Cassandra inquired.
“You are indeed.”
“Thank you, young sir,” Cassandra replied and then unexpectedly grabbed the boy in her arms and started kissing his face.
“Aunt Cassandra, put me down please! I am no longer a baby boy!” said the child of almost six years, trying to escape her arms.
She finally put him down, and with what remained of his dignity, he moved slowly but determinedly to the place where his father and his Uncle David were talking. He could not stay around ladies any longer. His Aunt Cassandra always treated him like a child, and one of these days he would became quite angry with her—quite angry indeed.
It was difficult to be angry with Cassandra though, because, besides his mother and Aunt Georgiana, young William loved his Aunt Cassandra the most—especially since she was his godmother too—but godmother or not, a lady should not take a grown-up boy in her arms to kiss him in public!
This thought of grown-up boys instantly made him think of his cousin James Markham, one of Will’s best friends.
James had some rather big troubles, poor boy, caused by his own mother—Aunt Caroline. As James and his mother lived most of the time at the Bingleys’ estate, Will had a chance to meet him as well as his Bingley cousins quite often. All the time—truly all the time!—whenever they ran out to play, James’s mother would call him and check on him, and she always insisted on kissing him on his cheek even if they were in public! Moreover, she rarely allowed James to climb trees, to ride, or to swim in the stream, because she said he might hurt himself. That was not the right way to treat a growing boy either! And his grandfather, Lord Markham, whenever he came to visit them, instead of taking James’s side—as Grandpa Bennet did with Will—seemed to agree with Lady Markham all the time. James had confessed to Will many times that his grandfather was very good to him but did not want to buy him a horse as he was afraid James might be injured in an accident. That was a strange notion, Will thought, considering James would be an earl some day. What kind of an earl would he be if he could not ride really well? However, he had to admit that James’s mother and his grandfather were not so bad after all—outside of the fact t
hat they did not allow James to play as he liked.
Of course, he was not allowed to play any time he wanted and any way he liked either, but in his case, it was different. His parents were always right; he had no doubt about that. He had the best father, the most beautiful and perfect mother and now he had a beautiful baby sister. He was lucky to have such a family; Mrs. Reynolds told him that many times—and Mrs. Reynolds was always right too. Even more, he had to admit he also had very nice relatives; he really liked all his cousins. He looked forward to the next Sunday when they would come to visit at Pemberley and would stay for a fortnight. The Bingleys, Aunt Caroline and James, Grandma and Grandpa Bennet, the Gardiners—not to mention his godparents who would surely be there too. That would be a crowded house, indeed—as his father said—and Will really liked to have many people around!
He sat near his father and his godfather, wondering why he was upset with his Aunt Cassandra after all.
“You should not treat the poor boy in that improper manner, Cassandra,” laughed Elizabeth as they sat together on the blanket.
“I know, but I cannot help myself. I absolutely adore him, and he is so sweet when he tries to behave like an adult.” Cassandra laughed. “He is aloof and haughty like Darcy, and I love teasing him.”
“He does look like William; he is already quite handsome and has such dark, expressive eyes,” Elizabeth said while her loving gaze rested upon her husband and her son. “However, I am not certain whether he has the same disposition as William or only tries to mirror him. He struggles so much to be exactly like his father! And, to be honest, you have to admit William is not that aloof or haughty, either.”
“No, he is not…anymore,” Cassandra admitted. “You had a very positive influence upon his improvement.”
“William needed no improvement at all. He has always been the best of men,” Elizabeth replied decidedly. Cassandra laughed again.
“Well, I do hope Darcy does not hate kisses as much as Will does.”
Elizabeth blushed slightly and then laughed, too. “You must not worry about any of my gentlemen in that regard,” she replied, looking toward the small group in front of them.