Chapter 1 #6
She released a tremulous laugh that was equally an emotive sob, so his jesting worked a little. Palm atop the flat, wide box, Darcy launched into the second bit of family history.
“This belongs to you, Elizabeth, as will all the jewels at Pemberley. For reasons you will understand in a moment, this was one of my mother’s favorite pieces, although it has been in the family for I honestly have no idea how many generations.
My reason for gifting it now isn’t out of extreme sentimentality or as a request from my mother, as it was with the ring.
This wish is all me, and simply because I have always loved it.
It is also important for me to stress that while I would greatly adore seeing you wear it on our wedding day, I do not want you to feel obligated to do so if you have a Bennet family heirloom or if this does not properly match the gown you have chosen, or—”
He stopped talking when she pressed two fingers against his lips. “William, I am honored to wear this on our wedding day. Whatever it is. To please you and express my incredible happiness in becoming your wife, I…would do anything.”
Slowly grinning, he asked, “What if it is hideous?”
Laughing aloud, she shook her head. “Somehow I doubt that is possible.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he warned with mock severity. “There is a certain brooch I recall in one case that should have earned the jewelry maker a trip to the gallows. Or maybe my taste in jewelry is frightfully bad.”
“Just open the box! The suspense is now killing me.”
Suddenly feeling rather giddy, Darcy opened the lid dramatically slow.
No heightening theatrics were necessary, however.
Nestled on a thick pillow of white velvet was a stunning necklace of sapphires and diamonds in various shapes and sizes, masterfully crafted and woven into a spiraling arabesque style.
The lights bounced off the polished metal and gemstones as Darcy lifted it off the velvet.
He draped it over his palms, Elizabeth reverently brushing her fingers across the sparkling stones. After a minute of awed inspection, he slipped it around her slender neck. Securing the clasp, he gently laid his hands on either side of the necklace, fingers caressing the nape of her neck.
“Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you.”
Elizabeth was staring at him, her glowing eyes round as saucers and teeming with emotions almost too intense for him to bear.
With her left hand, she nimbly stroked the teardrop sapphire lying below the hollow of her throat.
Her right hand floated upward, making contact with his chin as her thumb traced a lazy circle, before gliding up to his lips.
The pressure was light, yet it sent rivers of fire over the surface of his mouth.
He parted his lips, tongue moving toward the sensitive pad, but her thumb was gone, brushing across the corner of his mouth before drifting up toward his cheek.
The warm splay of her entire palm against his face intensified the delicious sensations racing through his skin.
Darcy instinctively tilted his head to increase the pressure.
Doing so, he realized how far he had already unintentionally leaned toward her.
Her luminous eyes were inches away, still open although her eyelids had grown heavy.
In the remaining seconds, before he bridged the gap to kiss her, Darcy noted everything.
The eager lifting of her face, the tongue sweeping between parted lips to moisten, the sound of rapid breaths, the rich flush infusing her cheeks, and the increasing heat burning the hands still resting on the curve of her neck.
Then, an inch from the paradise of her mouth, she whispered, “I love you.”
He groaned, the sound low and guttural yet surprisingly loud in the silence, and without knowing who closed the final distance, they were kissing.
Considering the ardency he was fully aware they both felt, the kiss was astonishingly delicate and tender.
Pervasive and passionate, yes, yet, with a controlled tempo.
He wanted to enjoy every second, cognizant that the interlude could only last for a short time.
The temptation to draw her to his body and repeat the wild embrace from two nights ago was difficult to resist, especially given Mr. Bennet’s oblique jesting about it.
Nevertheless, Darcy didn’t think it wise to test the limits of what Elizabeth’s protective father would allow.
A small part of his brain—a teeny, tiny sliver—stayed focused and clear.
One kiss was permissible. A fiery, inclusive, protracted kiss…
but still just one kiss. He even managed to keep his hands in a safe place, cradling her swanlike neck and delicate shoulders, and going nowhere near the swell of her breasts.
All in all, a job well done, he thought, as they gradually lessened the kiss before pulling apart. He was rather proud of his regulation and gratified that their sweet intimacy—while far, far from the level he hungered to reach—would tide him over. For a few hours, at least.
Elizabeth appeared to be of the same mind. For want of a better phrase, she looked as if she had been kissed quite thoroughly and thrilled in the experience. Apparently, he must have presented a similar picture, based on the smug smile curving her plump lips as she studied his face.
“I needed that,” she blurted, dropping her eyes for an embarrassed second before joining Darcy in soft laughter.
“As did I, my love.” He drew in a rasping breath. Pulling away from her enticing lips, he turned his contemplation to the stars. “We should return, although waiting a few minutes more is probably a wise idea, particularly for me.”
To his amusement and relief, rather than blushing over his remark and the obvious meaning, she covered her mouth and burst into muffled laughter.