Desired By Mr Darcy (…By Mr Darcy #2)

Eight Months Later

Darcy

I t had been the hottest summer anyone could remember. The sun blazed high in an unrelenting sky, its golden glare beating down upon the rolling hills of Derbyshire. The grass surrounding Pemberley had grown quite brown with lack of rain, its once-lush green now faded to brittle ochre. The heat lay thick over the land, a heavy, inescapable presence that pressed upon its inhabitants. Many found the oppressive warmth unbearable, retreating indoors to the shade of heavy drapes and cool stone floors.

Elizabeth Darcy had made the best of it.

Darcy watched from the riverbank, entranced, as his wife floated upon the glassy surface of the secluded pond. Her dark tresses fanned out around her like spilled ink, her bare limbs dappled with sunlight filtering through the overhanging branches. She looked utterly at peace, her eyes closed, her lips curved in a contented smile. He had dreamed of her like this before their marriage - though, in his fantasies, it had been the azure waters of the Mediterranean that cradled her, not the quiet, hidden waters of their own estate. And yet, this moment, this sight before him, surpassed even his most vivid imaginings.

She was breathtaking.

His gaze, ever greedy for her, traced the curves of her form, lingering upon the soft swell of her belly. The child growing within her - the fruit of their honeymoon - had rounded her in ways that made her no less beautiful but all the more radiant. She carried their heir with an effortless grace, her condition only enhancing her natural charm. The midwives predicted that within a month, she would bring forth their firstborn. And though he had always considered her the loveliest of women, now she seemed something more - something divine.

“I never want to leave this water,” Elizabeth sighed, stretching languidly as the gentle current lapped at her skin. “I do not care who sees me.”

“The Mistress of Pemberley, quite without her clothing, basking like a siren in the water? I care very much, for I do not wish to share such a sight with another soul.”

She cracked one eye open, amusement dancing within its depths.

“You must think me reckless indeed, but I cannot help it. And stop looking at me like that, Fitzwilliam.”

“How am I looking at you?” he asked, his voice rich with affection.

“Like a man with intentions.”

He arched a brow.

“Is it such a crime for a man to admire his wife?”

“I hope not,” she teased, “for I admire my husband most ardently. Come, you have watched me long enough. Join me.”

She lifted a hand, trailing her fingertips through the water, staring at him with playful challenge sparkling in her eyes. His lips twitched in a reluctant smile. He peeled off his coat and waistcoat first, then his shirt, folding them in a neat pile beside Elizabeth’s carelessly discarded garments. He hesitated over his underclothes, his modesty still at odds with his desire.

“Stop dithering, husband,” Elizabeth called, watching him linger. “Keep them on if you insist, but to do so you deprive me of my favourite view in all the world.”

He exhaled, shaking his head, and stripped away the last of his clothing. A thrill shot through him at the unabashed way she watched him, her gaze traveling over him with the same appreciation he so often lavished upon her. Then, with a decisive step, he waded into the water, shivering slightly as the coolness embraced him.

Elizabeth beamed, rising to her feet and reaching for him. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing reverent kisses to her cheeks, her brow, the tip of her nose. The swell of her stomach made it difficult to pull her as close as he wished, but he held her nonetheless, his hands smoothing over her skin as if to memorise the moment.

“I shall not miss this heat,” Elizabeth groaned, rubbing a hand along her belly. “Though I suspect I shall be in a similar condition next summer.”

His brows lifted.

“You would plan for our next so soon?”

“I believe it an inevitability,” she said with a sly smile, “for I cannot be without my husband.”

Darcy laughed, a sound deep and warm, and touched his forehead to hers.

“You are insatiable.”

She tipped her head, her eyes assessing his body. He did not bother to even try and hide the erection that had formed in her presence. Her gaze still burned him, her approval of his body meaning everything to him. She nuzzled happily into his embrace.

“You do not complain.”

“No,” he admitted, brushing his lips over her damp temple. “Nor shall I ever.”

She sighed with content, resting her head against his shoulder as the water swayed around them. A soft breeze stirred the humid air, sending tiny ripples across the surface. Elizabeth shivered, though she would not admit to it, and instinctively he pulled her closer.

“To think, in a few weeks we will have a new Darcy here. The first since darling Georgiana. I hope they shall love Pemberley as much as we all do.”

Darcy smiled. His wife’s affection and devotion to their home had been a most welcome surprise; they had left only once since their marriage, and regretted every moment spent away. It was their sanctuary, a heaven of their own.

“They shall have the run of these lands, know every tree and stream as you have come to know them. And they shall be loved.”

His hand slid down, resting against the firm curve of her belly, warm and protective.

She covered his hand with hers, fingers intertwining.

“Yes,” she murmured, “loved beyond measure.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Come, let us go in before you catch a chill.”

“I do not think it possible to catch a chill in such weather, my love,” she said with a laugh. “A little longer, please. You cannot refuse me when I carry our child.”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. She was right; he could refuse her nothing.

“You will be the undoing of me, woman.”

Elizabeth smirked, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

“And yet you would have it no other way.”

His sigh was one of surrender.

“No, I would not.”

They lingered a moment longer, wrapped in each other’s arms, before finally wading back toward the bank. Elizabeth stepped onto the sun-warmed grass, droplets glistening upon her skin. Darcy reached for a blanket and carefully draped it over her shoulders, watching as she dried herself. He did not miss his wife’s own gaze, her eyes raking slowly over his naked form.

“You stare, Mrs Darcy.”

“I do,” she admitted unabashedly. “My husband is a very handsome man.”

He stepped closer, capturing her chin between his fingers and kissing her soundly.

“And my wife is a most impertinent woman.”

She laughed against his lips before pulling away, clutching the blanket closer. She dried herself thoroughly, before reaching for her clothes. She pointed to Darcy’s, and he took the blanket from her to dry himself as she began to dress.

“Come, let us return home,” she said once they were both dressed. “I believe our child is demanding luncheon, and I am inclined to listen.”

Darcy chuckled, offering her his arm.

“Then I shall see that your every craving is satisfied, as any devoted husband should.”

With one last glance at the shimmering water, they walked back toward Pemberley, the future stretching before them like the golden hills in the distance - bright, promising, and filled with love.

The End