Part Four #2
Bingley’s decision to do nothing of the sort was not long in the making. Most assuredly, if Jane and I were on the other side of this door, I would not wish to be disturbed. Besides, Darcy and Miss Elizabeth are days away from becoming man and wife. What could be the harm?
“Mr. Bingley?”
His ears still pressed against the door, he hushed Jane again.
“Sir, if you do not mean to knock, then certainly we should not be doing this. Come away from the door.”
Optimism graced his countenance. Relinquishing his spot, Bingley captured Jane’s hand. He raised it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Jane, dearest, perhaps you and I might—”
“Mr. Bingley!”
Just as it happened every morning at Longbourn, the call of blackbirds chirping outside the window coaxed open Elizabeth’s eyes.
Her thoughts upon waking this particular morning were unlike any ever before.
I fell asleep in Fitzwilliam’s arms. She swept her fingers through her hair.
She knew not whether to be alarmed by her discovery or comforted by his continued presence.
Surely no one is aware of his being here, or else the household would be in an uproar.
A slight chill made her appreciate the warmth of her lover’s embrace.
A sidelong glance at the hearth confirmed her supposition that the fire had died hours earlier.
A few faint embers pierced the darkness—enough for her to discern Darcy’s stunning mien.
How innocent his beautiful face. Elizabeth did not have the heart to awaken him and send him on his way, but awaken him she must. Soon, a servant would require entrance into the room to build the fire.
Recalling the locked door, she rested her head on his chest. I think I shall enjoy this moment a bit longer.
Dreams of amorous interludes with his lovely Elizabeth had served as his nocturnal companions for many months.
Somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Darcy had a sense of not wanting this particular dream to end.
As he had done countless times before, he would simply turn over and resume their lovemaking a few hours more.
However, the smell of her sweet fragrance, the sensation of softness pressed against firmness, and the gentle brush of her breath across his chest gave him to know this was no ordinary dream.
His eyes shot open. Aside from his jacket, which he now recalled having removed last night, situated over the back of the sofa, the rest of his attire and even his hessians were where they ought to be.
He released a deep breath. Unable to resist, he brushed his fingers through Elizabeth’s loosened tresses.
Elizabeth lifted her head. “You are awake.”
“How long has it been since you awakened, Elizabeth?”
“Not long.”
“Why did you not awaken me?”
“I simply could not bear the thought of your awaking and leaving me. I thought I might savour this moment for as long as possible.”
“What time is it?”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, are you worried that my papa might find you here, and insist that you marry me in order to save my reputation?”
Darcy shifted their positions, and before Elizabeth knew what he was about, he was on top of her. “If I am to be accused of ruining your reputation, my love, at the very least I should do the job properly.”
“Then you consider all the liberties you stole last night as insufficient.”
He tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “I do not recall hearing any complaints at the time.”
“Perhaps it is because I was not thinking clearly. However, having spent an entire night in your arms, the dawn of a new day has awakened me to the fact that some manner of protest is warranted, or else I shall be regarded as wanton. It would never do for the future mistress of Pemberley to be looked upon as such.”
“You must allow the master of Pemberley to decide such things. That being said, when we are together like this, wanton is the only way I wish to describe you.”
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Elizabeth,” he murmured. He commenced his adorations in a manner pleasantly reminiscent of how they had left off last evening.
Elizabeth’s soft moans only encouraged him.
Not wanting to miss bearing witness to the flux of emotions his ardent ministrations elicited in his lady love, Darcy opened his eyes.
Bright sunrays poking through the shades recalled him to their surroundings.
Surrendering the sweet taste of her skin, he slowly swept his fingers through her hair.
Upon standing, he retrieved his jacket from the back of the sofa and folded it over his arm. His modesty discreetly intact, owing to his purposeful placement of his jacket, he said, “I really must be leaving.”
Her countenance flushed, Elizabeth sat up. “But—” A mixture of frustration, disappointment, and wistfulness laced her voice. “When … when shall you return?”
“I shall return this afternoon.”
“This afternoon? I do not know that I can wait that long. I am most eager for us to … to—”
“To?”
Elizabeth stood and pressed her hands against his chest. She rested her head there upon.
His heart’s tempo comforted her while his pleasant-smelling manly scent aroused her.
If she could but command time to stand still, she might enjoy his nearness a while longer.
A breathless whisper escaped her lips. “Is it your intention to taunt me?”
“I should like to hear you tell me what you were about to say.”
She lifted her head, and their eyes met. “Sir, you have awakened desires in me that I should very much like to explore further.”
He brushed his hand along her chin. “And we will—in mere days, once we are man and wife.”
“And what shall I do in the meantime, sir?”
Darcy slipped his arms around her slender waist. “Think of me doing this—” He urged her body closer to his so she would have some indication of her power over him.
“And this—” He feathered kisses along her smooth shoulders and the soft skin of her neckline.
“And this—” Darcy kissed her passionately until the need to breathe persuaded their lips apart. He rested his forehead against hers. “As I surely will be thinking of you.”