Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice Sequel Bundle: 3 Reader Favorites (193 page)

She laughed softly and kissed him again, lingeringly. “Every morning I wake and am queasy. It may be residual of the head trauma, yet why do I feel
ill only in the morning and before I even move? Lastly,” she grasped one of his hands and planted it squarely on her breast, “what do you feel?”

Darcy had raptly absorbed her words, his quick intellect and education on the subject nimbly locking the pieces of the puzzle together with heightened excitement. His intimacy with her precious body instantaneously recognized the answer to her query. “You are fuller!”

“Yes, and they are tender, so gently, please,” she teased, threading her arms around his neck and shifting so that she was on his lap. “Fitzwilliam, I am not positive. Perhaps the physician will be able to verify. I desperately desire for our baby to be safe inside me, and I think it is. However, none of this can be resolved at one in the morning. Therefore, I propose less discussion and pleasant,” light kiss, “arousing,” nibbling, “satisfying activities. Oh, William! I have missed you so! At the risk of sounding horribly selfish, all I want now is you. I cannot survive another night without your arms around me. I love you and I need you.”

She kissed him ardently, pouring all her yearning and passion into the task, and he responded accordingly. With an aching groan he pushed her back onto the bed, cautiously and carefully showing her how intensively he loved, required, and hungered for her. Cold rationality was sluggish in surfacing.

With a throaty cry reminiscent of true pain, he untangled himself from her, clasping her face in tremulous hands, closing his eyes for a moment, and inhaling deeply. “God in Heaven, help me! My sweet Lizzy, my love, you surely know how fervid my passion for you. It is eating me alive, I need you so! I cannot, please, I beg you… If I hurt you in any way, if I hurt our child, Elizabeth, I… I could not live with that! Please, I promise we will talk to the doctor tomorrow, obtain answers. Tell me you understand, beloved?”

“Shhh… Fitzwilliam, I understand, I do.” She wiped his tears, her own pooling in her eyes as her lips trembled. In a small pleading voice, “Please do not make me sleep over there alone. I… I… I want you to hold me! Will you please hold me, William? I promise to behave.”

He laughed softly and pulled her into his embrace, nestling her head on his shoulder as he drew the blankets over them. “I will never let you go, Lizzy, never. If ever again you move to my mother’s bedchamber, I will batter down the door!”

The physician’s appointment was for the afternoon. After breakfast Darcy carried Lizzy to her parlor where she rested and was entertained by Georgiana, Lady Matlock, and Col. Fitzwilliam. She wrote several letters to her family
and friends in the neighborhood. She had experienced some thirty minutes of nausea that morning, alleviated by the tea and toast Marguerite had begun bringing her each morning. Darcy had smiled brightly at her discomfort, which normally might have annoyed her, but she understood his emotions and was so blissful herself that she merely smiled in return, if a bit wanly.

He insisted she nap after lunch, a command that no one bothered to counter even though it was abundantly clear she was not the least fatigued. Lady Matlock returned home that afternoon, leaving Georgiana and Richard to amuse themselves, a task they would end up doing until the morrow.

The physician arrived and was momentarily dumbstruck, and Darcy embarrassed, as he had barely entered the room when Lizzy bluntly demanded he examine her feminine regions and tell her husband their marital relations must resume. Darcy nearly choked and hurriedly exited the room, but the doctor recovered quickly. After a thorough investigation of all areas, feminine and otherwise, he called for Darcy. The news was all positive.

Aside from her amnesia, which may never resolve, her head was declared healed. The ankle required another week or so of cautious activity but in a few more days, she could, with assistance, begin tentatively using it. Her feminine regions showed no sign of injury, the bleeding never having resumed. As for pregnancy, it remained too early to assert definitively, although he concurred with the symptoms as those indicative of the state. His gentle palpations had revealed a possibly enlarged womb, but, again, too soon for explicitness. Nonetheless, his cautious diagnosis was that Elizabeth was likely with child.

The affectionate and blatantly amorous glances shared by Darcy and his wife at the news brought an empathetic smile to the doctor’s face, and he hastily gathered his instruments. Darcy grinned stunningly at his wife as he escorted the doctor out, mouthing
I love you
as the door shut. He did manage to overcome his natural reticence and mortification for several pointed questions of his own before the physician bid adieu. He then literally ascended the stairs two and three at a time in his eagerness to return to his wife.

Darcy found his wife sitting placidly on their bed after quickly summoning Marguerite to assist changing her into a filmy rose-colored nightgown and brushing her hair. Darcy entered briskly, having shed his coat and waistcoat haphazardly in the sitting room. His eyes locked with Lizzy’s the second he crossed the threshold, his pace slowing as his smile broadened, lighting his face with an incandescent jubilance. He sat next to her, merely gazing.

“What took you so long?” she asked with a teasing smile.

He laughed softly, reaching one hand to brush the hair away from her right temple. “I needed to ask the physician a few questions for my own enlightenment and the foyer is a great distance. Even my legs can only take the steps so fast.”

She cocked her head to the side and grinned while running one hand up his thigh. “Questions? In the lengthy interval you have forgotten how it is done, beloved?”

He chuckled but deigned not to answer. Instead he leaned toward her, brushing his lips tenderly along the scar at her temple and then to her ear, her jawline, and eventually her mouth as she shuddered and sighed with contentment. “Beautiful wife,” he murmured, “I love you, and I adore you, my Lizzy.”

They caressed each other dreamily, their yearning intense, yet the thrill in the simple act of touching and kissing mesmerized them for a spell. He moved away eventually only to remove boots and shirt before gathering her tightly into his arms and stretching onto their bed.

Lizzy moaned happily and squeezed him with all her strength. “Fitzwilliam, you are the best man in the world! I love you with all my soul.”

Darcy was gentle and tender as promised. Lizzy was consumed with her need for him, but he languidly touched and caressed her satiny skin, his only haste in divesting her of the lovely but obstructive gown. Despite the physician’s assurances, he privately worried and had no intention of allowing his pent-up passions to overrule his caution. The end result was a lovemaking session of stupendous proportions as their mutual desire and yearning built slowly and was controlled.

They lay on their sides face to face, each exploring the other’s body almost as if for the first time. Darcy kissed each fading bruise and healing laceration and worked his way to her slightly swollen and colorful ankle, kissing and massaging gently. His hands moved over her body delicately, rivers of fire following in their wake. His mouth traveled as well, to each beautifully formed and slightly fuller breast, down her abdomen, dipping into her navel, and in all ways driving her mad with desire.

As he worshipped her body, awakening and spiraling her passionate lust, his heart remembered the agony of almost losing her. It was still so real to him, the torture of those days. Fear continued to clutch his soul and his thankfulness to God for returning her to him was overwhelming. His need to love her, please
her, touch her, and unite with her as can only be accomplished through the act of lovemaking drove him to astounding heights of arousal.

As tremendous as his urgency to be joined with her, his thirst to taste and touch and smell every inch of her flesh impelled him to proceed slowly. In consequence, Lizzy had never been so stimulated. Always she was satisfied in their lovemaking, stunned at the intensity of the glorious sensations that throbbed through her body when he masterfully coaxed her to rapture. Perhaps it was the long absence of his touch; perhaps it was the prolonged foreplay, or more likely a combination of both. Whatever the case, she was feverish in her craving for him.

“Fitzwilliam,” she sighed in a tone of elation, “I missed you so! I love you… I love you… I love you…” Almost sobbing, she captured his lips in a crushing kiss, and with a deep groan he finally merged with her.

Darcy clenched her firmly against his chest with one arm under her neck and gripping her shoulder, while the other ceaselessly rubbed over her backside. He moaned breathlessly, exalting in the heady aroma of her hair so near his face and her skin as velvet under his hands.

“My love!” he rasped huskily. “Lord, how I wanted you. I need you, my Elizabeth, my precious wife. God… please… do not ever leave me… I cannot live… Beloved!” He pulled her away from his neck and deliriously engulfed her mouth, drowning in her taste, receiving nourishment from her breath. Their respirations came in ragged gasps. Lizzy’s nails dug into his flesh with rapacious need.

They rolled and danced in intimate communication, giving as well as receiving, the unimaginable sensations quivering throughout each nerve and cell. When they slipped blissfully over the threshold of rhapsody, the spasms and flutters buffeted over them stupendously, transporting their souls to a place of intense indescribable oneness.

Their eyes met, lips touching as hot breath commingled, and they merged in profound love and belonging. “I love you,” they whispered in one accord, “I love you, I love you…” without end, kissing tenderly as their passion crested, cascaded in a prolonged wave, and ebbed slowly. Even after their tremors had ceased, Darcy continued to move within her body, holding her tightly for a long while before finally rotating onto his back with Elizabeth enveloped in his arms.

Darcy sheltered her with a strong embrace, the emotions of the past weeks threatening to overwhelm him as tears welled. Inhaling deeply and kissing the
top of her head to avoid bursting into sobs, he squeezed her so tenaciously that she released a small squeak.

“William, I cannot breathe!” she laughed, lifting to look at him. “My love,” smoothing his brow, “Are you alright?”

Smiling, he replied, “Yes, beloved, simply overcome with my emotions. I adore you so, Elizabeth, and shudder yet at how close I came to losing you. It haunts me still. I trust you will understand if I cling overly in the weeks to come.” His attempt at levity brought a smile to her lips.

“I imagine I can tolerate your presence if I must,” she teased, kissing his chest, laying her head over his pounding heart, and hugging firmly.

Contentment, relief, and joy so intensely swathed him that he fell into a doze, his perfect wife stretched on top of him. Her warmth soothed his residual fears.

They had every intention, initially, of joining their family for dinner, but time slipped away in the pleasure of their renewed love. It was well past the dinner hour before either of them felt any sensation other than sheer ecstasy. A tray was called for eventually; both of them needed their strength and Darcy especially worried as, he pointed out smugly, their child needed nourishment. As far as he was concerned, it was a fact and Lizzy was far too joyous to worry over his grief if she was found not to be with child. Besides, she had been convinced for the past week.

As the full moon touched the Peaks with glints of pale light, Lizzy lay gloriously contented in her sleep with her bare backside pressed firmly against Darcy’s chest and abdomen, legs entwined, while he embraced her and tickled her neck with his exhalations.

She dreamed.

Like many dreams, hers flowed from page to page without any true coherency. In one scene she was hugely pregnant and her husband was helping her up the stairs while laughing at her waddling gait. Then she was at their wedding, gazing into his sparkling blue eyes as she recited her vows. Next it was Christmas and Darcy was playing the violin as they all listened in amazement. In another, she sat with Harriet, Chloe, Marilyn, and Amelia with at least two dozen children of all ages climbing over the furniture, running amok, giggling, and screaming as their mothers placidly sipped their tea.

Suddenly the pages began to turn in a sequence that struck a chord of disquiet. She was storming shamefully into her husband’s study. She lay on
a cold lonely bed sobbing and ill. Darcy was riding Parsifal briskly down the drive as he turned and smiled at her, warming her heart. She strolled down the avenue, humming in the bright sunlight with a bucket in her hand. She was lifting her welcoming face to an approaching carriage, freezing in terror upon spying the leering face of the Marquis of Orman.

With a scream she struggled out of Darcy’s grip, applying a twisting pressure to her ankle, as she jolted up in bed. “William!” she sobbed, grabbing her pounding head, the pages of her memory flipping rapidly, as she bent over her lap moaning.

“Elizabeth, beloved, I am here! Shhh…” She was in his arms, trembling and gulping for air. “It is merely a dream, my love. Lizzy, look at me,” he grasped her chin and she peered at him with glazed eyes, “All is well, dearest, relax on my chest. Breathe slowly. Shhhh. I am here, love, I am here…” He continued to murmur soothing words interspersed with tender kisses as he rocked gently until she calmed. He reclined her onto the pillow, one arm about her as he stroked her cheek and hair.

Her eyes were distant and staring and filled with pain. He could not be certain she was fully awake, so he maintained his calming caresses and mollifying professions until her eyes unclouded and she focused on his face. She shivered still, anguish in her expression when she spoke.

“I remember, William. I recall what happened to me.”

“You do? Are you sure, beloved, that you were not dreaming?”

“No, no! I can see it and feel it… I remember running and falling and… the turkey…” she was panting and clutching his arms roughly. Darcy was seriously alarmed at her agitation and tried to console her to no avail. She was frantic. He attempted to move away, intent on mixing laudanum to ease her suffering and distress, but she grasped him tighter. “It was him!”