In the Arms of Mr. Darcy (18 page)

Lizzy laughed, turning and steering the few feet to their bedchamber with her enchanted and extremely aroused spouse inches behind. His breath brushed over her bare shoulder, lips grazing, the rising heat of his body felt deep into her bones, and his free hand roamed insistently over hip and thigh as she walked. The second they entered their favored sanctuary, he flattened his palm over her lower abdomen, hauling her backward onto the hard surfaces of his chest.

With intimately probing fingers rendering her breathless and incoherent, she listened as whispering lips brushed her ear, "I do pray you have slept well over the past days, Elizabeth, as I intend to keep you awake most of the night. Loving you once will not satiate me, I can assure you. I require the glorious sounds of your ecstasy and erotic writhing of your body numerous times to quench my thirst even partially. The hunger to feel your warmth encasing me as we love cannot be satisfied until a banquet course has been served. I need to feast on every inch of you to be truly satisfied. Lord, my precious wife, how beautiful you are and how deeply I love you!" The latter breathless exclamation was uttered as he tenderly rotated her now naked form to face him, eyes afire as he inspected head to toe while fingertips breezily traced her curves.

Lizzy groaned, moving decisively and clasping his face in her palms, lifting on tiptoes to passionately claim his mouth. His poetic words, always so spontaneously expressed from the heart, never failed to stir her tremendously.

Over the course of their marriage, they had learned the blissful happiness achieved in intuitively seeking to discover the innermost yearnings of their partner. A mere glance, fleeting touch, whispered word, or barest kiss was enough to sense the internal necessity. In the main, they discovered that their individual cravings at any given interlude were inevitably hungry for the same level of intensity, be it slow and languorous or fast and furious.

Yet there were those occasions of altered synchronicity. One would wish for a crazy, scorching assignation with rapture attained in a swift, blinding crescendo, while the other preferred gradually building to a prolonged, soothing climatic wave. One would wish for the comfort and intimate familiarity of their bed with bodies pressed together naturally, while the other longed for an exotic locale or position. It was at those times when the full nature of their love for each other was called forth, as the ability to sense the emotional reasoning behind their lover's wishes and then cheerfully granting that wish brought the highest pleasure and joy.

Such was the case now. Lizzy was in a sudden fever of desire, yet she knew that this was one of those times when Darcy's deepest needs transcended her own. Instinctively, she recognized that her husband ached to be tenderly loved. His arousal was swift and marked, but his softly spoken words and gentle caresses as well as something indefinable alerted her to his unspoken plea.

With a coarse groan, she softened her kiss, hands loosening their crushing grip to his face and traveling to tangle in his hair. The sensation of firm muscles and the rigid length of him brought shudders to her flesh, but she forced each sinew to relax, pliantly melting into his embrace. Eventually their eyes met. Darcy smiled gently as he stroked over her back, the knowledge of her sacrifice and his gratefulness clear in the glittering blue of his gaze.

"Elizabeth Darcy," he murmured reverently. "My wife."

While nibbling kisses to swollen, ruddy lips, he clutched her upper thighs and hoisted her up. She instinctively wrapped legs about his waist while he walked sedately toward their bed. Within minutes, Lizzy would forget her prior salacious insanity. They nestled under a blanket, bodies entwined as they commenced a languid exploration with Darcy fulfilling each spoken phrase as he feasted. Hands and mouths were everywhere; Darcy leading and Lizzy responding as sensations blazed and ebbed only to blaze anew at some fresh sensory assault.

It was cathartic. All the moans and sighs of his beloved purging; each stroke within her purifying; every successive level of passion attained supplanting the sorrow until there was no room for anything but happiness. It was then and only then that he fully surrendered to the pure, absolving pleasure to be found only with his wife.

Mutual cries reverberated. Darcy's guttural shouts rose to the rafters; Lizzy's release paling under the intensity of her husband's unleashed climax. "I love you, Fitzwilliam," she gasped hoarsely, Darcy far too caught up to be more than peripherally aware of her declaration.

But he felt the sentiment emanating, and embraced her even tighter if that was possible. They lay on their sides with limbs tangled and flesh connected on multiple planes, clasping and caressing as hearts gradually returned to a normal pace. The tenderness and vulnerability of being so rawly exposed aided their ever increasing melding as one soul and, in this particular situation, assisted the final dissipation of Darcy's dolor.

He pulled her head gently onto his shoulder, kissed the top of her head, and sighed. "I do not think I have ever needed to love you more, my heart. Thank you. I am unsure if I can express how urgently I required your love, but I will try. Be patient with me."

"You have all the time in the world. I am not going anywhere."

"Hmmm... Yes, I know this to be true and it fills me with bliss. My good fortune staggers me, but I accept it nonetheless."

"And so you should. How deficient of you to not accept the Almighty's wondrous blessing... me!" And she leaned her head back to meet his sparkling eyes with her own, both chuckling.

He stroked her cheek, happiness radiating. "Guess who else is in love?"

"Who?"

"The confirmed bachelor himself. Our wayward cousin Richard."

"You jest!"

"God's truth. Behind that flippant exterior beats a heart as sappy as my own. He confessed over dinner one night to harboring a years-long affection that I had no clue about whatsoever." He paused, running the back of his hand along her clavicle and neck. "You remember our attending Lord Ivers's ball in London?"

Lizzy blinked, eyebrows rising in a surprised expression much as Darcy had worn when Richard seemed to abruptly change the subject. "I... do, yes."

"You recall Lord and Lady Fotherby? I believe you conversed with Lady Fotherby, did you not?"

She nodded, still puzzled. "I spoke with them both briefly and Lady Fotherby sat near me for a spell at one point. They are lovely people, or rather I suppose I should say Lord Fotherby was. He rather intimidated me I confess. I do not know if I will ever accustom myself to actually speaking with people who are so noteworthy, the legendary famous who are names read about in newspapers. I think I stammered a bit, but his wife was unassuming, and we shared a time of stimulating conversation."

"You never stammered, beloved. Were always charming and witty, my perfect Mistress of Pemberley, exceeding all my expectations and swelling my ego outrageously."

"Pride, Mr. Darcy. Tsk, tsk."

"Indubitably. But also merely the truth."

He bestowed several kisses, Lizzy finally murmuring against his lips, "We were discussing Richard's love life."

"Hmmm... Were we?" He captured her lower lip, sucking gently.

Lizzy giggled, pulling away, but he only followed, her giggles increasing and voice mumbling without the ability to articulate properly. "William, finish your tale. Curiosity is killing me!"

He let go of her lip with a laugh. "A rumormonger you are, Mrs. Darcy."

"You started it! And quit changing the subject. One minute Richard in love, the next a ball attended months ago. Focus, my dear, and tell me... Wait!" Her eyes opened wide as comprehension dawned, Darcy observing her with a broad grin. "You mean Lady Fotherby?" Nod. "Richard is in love with Lady Fotherby?" Nod. "How? When? I do not see..."

"Allow me to enlighten you, and rest assured, I was as flabbergasted and I have known the man all my life." He proceeded to tell her the entire woeful tale as recounted to him, leaving nothing out, and adding his own commentaries from recollected incidents of ages past. "I remember the two flirting a bit, but it is standard practice amongst most of the society seekers, as you witnessed yourself. A time or two he mentioned Lady Simone's beauty or grace, repeated a handful of witty ripostes or clever stories with a gleam in his eye. The gents teased him a bit, but that too was standard practice so I thought little of it."

He chuckled, closing his eyes in humored remembrance. "It was dangerous, Elizabeth. Merely glancing at a lady was fodder for merciless teasing, let alone speaking of one. Luckily, it was an equal opportunity mocking torment so no one took it seriously."

"How about you? I know how you despise being teased."

He smiled. "I avoided looking at or talking to any women as much as possible, which was not too difficult since they all frightened me half to death."

Lizzy burst out laughing, Darcy rolling to his back with her in his arms and laughing as well. "There! You now know all of my secrets. You were not the first woman to leave me hopelessly tongue-tied, although the reasons were quite different. Social skills were never my forte, especially when in my teens. Thankfully, I was ridiculous and boring so the young ladies ignored me as well, saving me from the worst of my friends' innuendos and taunting."

"I rather doubt they ignored you, after all I have seen your portrait from the year you left for Cambridge and you were entirely too dashing to be ignored. So what is Richard to do?"

Darcy shrugged, eyes on the breasts so gloriously displayed resting on his chest as Lizzy was propped on her elbows above him. Reaching to trace an index finger over the softness, dipping into the welcoming cleavage, he answered absently, "Not much he can do at this juncture. Lady Fotherby is in mourning and will be for a few more months. Eventually, however, she will return to society functions. Richard should have no trouble encountering her from time to time, especially if he is proactive as I suggested he be. His greatest obstacle will be the other men placing themselves in her path. A wealthy widow of her beauty will be sought after. I encouraged him to press his suit forthwith. If she holds any affection for him, which seems at least possible, given the clues extended, he should have no trouble."

"Who would have thought you would ever be giving another advice on romance?"

He glanced up at her teasing face with a grin. "My arts worked on you, did they not? Found me irresistible, charming, dashing? Had to have me as yours immediately? Wanted me desperately?" He accented the huskily uttered words with firm strokes down her sides and a tight squeeze into his pelvis.

Lizzy squirmed and laughed. "Live with your delusions if you must, Mr. Darcy, although rewriting history is considered a sin in some quarters."

He merely grinned and returned to the delightful contemplation of her bosom. "You no longer leak milk and feel softer, not so... lumpy."

"Lumpy? Yes, I suppose they did at times." She shook her head in amusement. "My body seems to have adjusted." She smiled at Darcy's rapt attention, running fingers through his thick, messy hair while she observed the play of expressions crossing his elegant features. His thoughts were transparent, thus she was not even slightly surprised when he gently rolled her onto her back and buried his face into her chest with a happy sigh.

His playful delight did not last long, however, as the bell above the right side of the bed rang. With a final kiss to each pert nipple, Darcy rose, kissing her lips before exiting the bed.

They had come to refer to this final nursing as Alexander's bedtime snack, as he inevitably ate voraciously prior and needed merely to fill the tiny void before succumbing to a deep Darcy-style sleep that lasted for six to sometimes eight hours. Naturally, he was not always so predictable, often waking in the darkest hours of the night for nourishment or comforting. Mrs. Hanford assured them this was typical and to be expected for months to come. Generally, the nanny attempted to calm the baby herself, not wishing to disturb her Mistress unless essential; however, she was under orders to alert the Darcys the moment Alexander was inconsolable. Neither regarded it as a burden to attend to their son's needs.

They were fortunate in that Alexander was a temperate infant. He had only suffered two episodes of severe infantile colic, probably as a result of something Lizzy had eaten, Mrs. Hanford informed. Those two nights of pacing and rocking with a disconsolate, screaming baby were hideously memorable. The three had taken turns attempting to placate the suffering and irritated babe, only Lizzy managing limited success at her breast. The frantic parents were distraught, doubly so by the increasing hoarseness of their son's voice and purple cast to his face. The first night, Darcy was so worried that he woke George, insisting he examine Alexander, which the good doctor was more than happy to do. He and Mrs. Hanford exchanged understanding glances, George assuring the new parents that it was normal albeit distressful. He personally brewed a concoction of herbals, including fennel, chamomile, anise, and dill that did seem to help, or maybe Alexander just wore himself out. Whatever the case, they kept a bottle of the extract in the nursery just in case.

Darcy particularly enjoyed this late night snack, as Alexander was not so ravenous and more apt to willingly play with his father. He walked slowly into the bedchamber, Alexander placated for the moment with his father's little finger. "Have you been a good boy while I was gone, my sweet? I believe you have gained another half a pound, you gorger. You nearly have two chins!" He laughed, Alexander pausing his steady sucking to gaze into Darcy's eyes. He had a firm grip to the index finger, chubby fist curled tight, and his legs kept a regular rhythm of strong kicks. He was always moving, Darcy had discovered. Unless asleep or completely satiated with mother's milk, his body was in action. The day before Christmas he had kicked so hard that he flipped from his side to back, limbs flailing wildly and eyes wide in amazement at the abrupt change.