Longbourn to London (36 page)

Darcy was immediately alert, his eyes brightening. He cupped her breast as she met his lips. “May I comfort you on the new bed, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked when their kiss ended.

Elizabeth was thinking her dressing gown had outflanked her hope to merely go to sleep when she noticed a bump forming under his robe. She did not say yes but reached under his garment and began stroking his manhood. She was amused by his surprise. “Yes, but I must practice comforting you, too, Fitzwilliam, if I wish to become a true proficient.” She would not disappoint Darcy again. She must learn to master the pain of joining with him, and if at all possible, hide it. Touching him so explicitly was not unpleasant, for she could see evidence of her handiwork enlivening his dark eyes.

He drew his robe open, watching her elegant and dexterous fingers, one wearing the betrothal ring, handling his erection.
My wife, my Lizzy…on our first night…Elizabeth Bennet is touching me.
His eyes half closed and he felt intoxicated. “You are well on your way to proficiency, Lizzy. I must get you to bed before I faint from pleasure.”

They rose from the settee hand in hand. Darcy sat on the bed and pulled Elizabeth between his legs. He untied the gold silken cords of her dressing gown, releasing the smell of lavender water. “Have I told you I love how you smell? It is lavender?”

“Yes, it is.” Elizabeth was occupied with his unruly hair and tender ears. Caressing his neck, she said, “And I love how
you
smell. Is it sandalwood?” She sniffed the collar of his robe, pushing it off his shoulders and down his arms.

“Um-hmm.” He continued lines of small kisses over her chest, avoiding her puckered peaks, glancing up to her eyes, watching the heat build there. He pulled away to gaze at the length of her body from her knees to the top of her head. Darcy placed his hands on the gathered fabric on her shoulders and let the dressing gown fall.

Elizabeth tried not to blush, and her chin rose a little. She still needed to remind herself to be brave in the face of his need to look at her.

“Oh, how you tempt me, Lizzy.” He pulled her hair forward, so the dark tresses curled over her creamy skin. He stroked her hair smooth over her breasts. “My goddess.”

Elizabeth sighed. “Oh, I am quite mortal and far from perfection.”

Darcy lifted her onto the bed. “Although we, neither of us, have easy characters, I find we are perfect for each other.” He pushed her against the pillows, then stood and let his robe fall. He put a knee on the bed to join her, but she stopped him.

“Fitzwilliam, pause a moment. Indulge me.”

Darcy stilled, a questioning look in his eyes. Elizabeth gazed at him, admiring the glow of the candlelight as it illuminated his chest hair, his long, well muscled arms, his thighs and erection. She said in a sultry voice, “I do not believe I have expressed to you sufficiently, dear husband, the admiration with which I regard your person. I understand you completely when you speak of being tempted. That explains what I am feeling.”

She rose to her knees. “Stay just as you are,” she instructed. “Do not move.” Elizabeth ran her hands down his arms, then slid off the bed and moved behind him. She stroked his buttocks, murmuring, “I never imagined—how adorable…” She embraced him and brushed her breasts against his back. “No, I never knew a man could be beautiful.”

Darcy reached for the bedpost to hold himself upright. He blushed at her attentions, but she could not see it.

She rubbed her cheek against his back, and then kissed where her cheek had been. Her hands felt the taut muscles of his chest, moved over his stomach, and finally stopped on either side of his hard manhood
. If he can touch me in my secret places with such ease, I must learn to touch him.
He was pleasingly hot to the touch, and she could feel him become even more rigid.

“I am pleasing you?” she asked, although she could easily anticipate his answer.

“Speechless…” was all Darcy could offer by way of reply. He was silenced by the sight of her hands.
It is Elizabeth, my Lizzy, bent upon pleasuring me
. He had not dared think such attention might become a reality on his wedding night. He would not have presumed to ask, at least not so soon.
Last night at this time, I was having brandy, hoping to sleep. Alone. Am I dreaming still?
She chuckled in what he thought a most delightful way.

She had removed his power of speech, and now he could not even breathe. Slowly, knowing she was enticing him. Elizabeth climbed onto the bed and straddled his knee that was still leaning on the bed.

Darcy was beside himself with exhilaration, and feared he might spend himself. With a dry desperation, he said, “Lizzy, I am sorry to end this, but I must have you… I pray it will not be too discomforting.”

They lay side-by-side on the bed and embraced. Her legs encircled his waist, hoping it would give him the deepest access and produce less pain. She was instead elated when his careful entrance produced little stinging. She laughed.

Darcy rose on one elbow to look at her. “Laughter?
Now?”

Her face was suffused with joy. “It does not hurt! Nothing we are doing hurts!”

His response was a passionate kiss and slightly more demanding thrusts. He paused to ascertain she was still unharmed; she was chortling, her cheeks aflame. He laughed too and, wrapping his arms around her, rolled them so she was astride him. She sat up—“Oh!”—but he held her hips down and pushed deliberately into her, deeper than he had yet been.

Elizabeth looked down at his face. His eyes were closed, he was clearly enraptured, and she closed hers. His depth produced a more profound response. “Ooooh.” A deep shudder announced her slide into oblivion, and as long as he moved in her, it did not end. She cried his name with each thrust.

When he pulled her down so their bellies touched, her back arched and he looked at her, realising she was far beyond delirium. Had she seen his gaze, she would have met a very smug countenance indeed.

“I love you,” he whispered, knowing she might not hear or comprehend. “I love you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.” He reached his climax with a final burst of force. A breast was near his mouth. He gave it a fierce tug.

“Yes, Fitzwilliam, yes, yes!” She collapsed, her long dark curls enrobing them both.

He smiled even as his body shook with its final spasm, thinking of Elizabeth only that morning, wrapping her sister in her hair. Here was the hoped for reality.

Elizabeth did not open her eyes or move. Even when his deflated manhood slipped out of her, she did not appear to notice. Darcy was afraid she would grow cold. He reached for the corner of the sheeting, wiping the excess liquid from his loins. He pulled the bedclothes he could reach to cover them. Elizabeth smiled, her cheek on his chest.

“Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

His chuckle bounced her cheek. “If you had not refused me then, Lizzy,” he said, recognising the words from his ill-timed and ill-judged proposal, “we might have started this most pleasing exercise in, what, perhaps June?”

“I do not believe we would have joined together in so profound a way as this. This is all as it was meant to be.”

“I believe you are right.”

***

Sometime in the night, Darcy awoke briefly. He did not know when they had rolled into a spooning position. One arm was behind Elizabeth’s neck, warmed by her hair, and the other was wedged between her breasts, his fingers entwined with hers.
Even now that I have had her, I want her all the more… How splendid she is…

Elizabeth Darcy awoke as a bright and cold winter’s day was dawning. She was sensible to an ache between her legs, and realised it was not a lingering pain from her deflowering but something else, something more
. I want him. Is this proper? I want him to take me again—the way he did the last time with the stirring motion. What will he think? All I want is to feel him. What has he done to me?

Darcy remained soundly asleep as she slipped out of bed. She dabbed water onto the towel at the washstand, soothing herself. The feeling of emptiness remained, and she was alarmed at the intensity of her desire.
I shall stir the fire and warm the room; perhaps that will distract me
. She found and donned the green velvet dressing gown—it would be warmer than the sleeveless gauzy robe on the floor.

After stoking the fire, she went to the windows and slipped the curtains apart. The pale winter light illuminated her as she studied the frost lying over the formal courtyard with its complicated knot of herbs. She folded her arms under her bosom, watching the sun peek over the back of the house.
He has done something to me… This is not at all what I was lead to expect. I am…yes…I am lustful. Can this be what he wants?

***

Darcy’s eyes flickered open, alarmed to find he was alone. He saw the roaring blaze.
Where is she? Did she let a servant in to tend the fire? I did not think I would awaken with empty arms this morning… Where is she?
As he started to move, Darcy became aware of the undeniable erection already much in evidence.
This reminds me of when I was seventeen. At least some part of me does not age!

He raised himself on an elbow, his eyes drawn to the morning light cutting a sliver into the room, and saw Elizabeth profiled against the glass doors. He went to her.

She did not hear his approach until his arms encircled her from behind. “Good morning, Mrs. Darcy. I did not think I would awaken in a cold bed this morning. Are you not well?”

“Good morning, Fitzwilliam. I do not know whether I am well or not.”

“Yes? Are you in pain?” His deep voice was full of concern.

“I do not know what you will think… I do not understand what you have done to me. I am not in pain, exactly, but I do ache. I want you. I have never felt such desperation. Something has changed in me. Since I have been awake this morning, all I can think of is how soon you may wish to…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please comfort me.”

Darcy strengthened their embrace, and pressed his tumescence against her derriere. He enjoyed the feeling of the velvet gown against his skin and over her soft bosom. He leaned to whisper in her ear. “You are wonderful… That is what I think of you. Should such a case arise again, please know you should wake me. Immediately. Most mornings you will find me instantly at your command, as I am now.”

“Is it proper for a wife to make such demands? Is this what you want? You do not find my request unladylike? Too forward?” She pushed her derriere against him.

He felt her sigh of desire. “No, my dear Lizzy, to the contrary. In fact, I think you may justly accuse me of feeling a quite improper pride.” He slid his body against hers, slowly.

“You, sir, are behaving in a most ungentlemanlike manner. I was not wrong after all. You know arts and allurements far beyond any meagre attractions I may claim, teasing man.”

“Come back to our bed, Lizzy.”

Her lips were dry. “I shall.” She pulled him to the table where the ice bucket remained. “But first, I must have some water.” She poured a little melted ice into a champagne flute.

When she had finished, Darcy downed the remaining gulp from her glass and led her to the fireplace. “Did you have a servant in?”

“Whatever for?”

“To tend the fire.”

“You have married a country girl, Mr. Darcy. I know how to tend a fire.” Smiling up at him, she took his hardness in her cool hands.

“Indeed, you certainly do. Your attractions are
not
meagre. And may I say, Mrs. Darcy, I find a certain smugness in
your
countenance that is irresistible. I would not dream of correcting your pride. It is well deserved.”

Darcy unbuttoned her dressing gown and reached inside to grasp her waist. He gently pushed her down until they were both on their knees on the heavy plush rug before the hearth.

“Are we not going back to bed?” she asked, just loudly enough to be heard over the crackling fire.

“I pray you, indulge your husband’s dreams.”

She nodded, meeting his eyes, entranced.
One night…in just one night he has made of me something quite other than I was yesterday. It is a wondrous thing
. She was panting. “You were right, Fitzwilliam, that we should wait for this. It would not do for an unmarried maiden to feel as I do this morning. You may not be shocked at my feelings, but I am. I had no notion…” Her voice trailed off with a shake of her head.

Darcy slipped the robe from her shoulders and smoothed it with the velvet side upwards, then lay upon it. He returned her candid gaze. “I knew when I received your first letter. I was certain you would respond to me, that you would know this as an expression of love, not a demand of duty. Lizzy, join with me?”

She did so, gratefully.

Chapter 22

A Period of Adjustment

“For which of my bad parts didst thou first love me?”
William Shakespeare
Much Ado about Nothing