Chapter 20 #7
She was lying atop him, pressed against his chest, her lips almost touching his, her fingers caressing his face.
One of his arms encircled her waist, pressing her closer to him while the other hand gently caressed her nape then travelled down to her spine and back to her shoulders.
The thin fabric of her nightgown fell from her shoulder, so nothing separated her skin from his burning fingers.
Their eyes still held, searching each other’s souls; their lips tantalised each other without really touching.
She felt her breasts crushed against his chest while his gentle hands turned more eager, more daring, and more compelling.
His movements suddenly stopped, and he cupped her face with both hands.
“So, Miss Bennet, you feared that I might not wish to marry you any longer, but you still allowed me to come to your room and relax in your bed? Am I correct?”
She hesitated a moment, as her mind could not comprehend his words easily, and her lips, suddenly dry, did not wish to speak.
“To be perfectly honest, by the time you came to my room, I already understood that my fears were for naught. Your gaze, your smile, the way you held my hand, the way you whispered into my ear that you would come to my room—all of these made me see the truth. But even if I were not certain of your intentions, I would have allowed you to come to my room; I am ashamed to admit it, but I have no wish to deceive you. I was uncertain whether you intended to marry me or not, but I was never uncertain of your feelings as I was never uncertain of mine—well, at least not in the last month or so…”
“I am glad you trusted me enough to confess that, Miss Bennet. And I shall forgive you for the time being as I blame your distress and your drowsiness for your bad judgment.”
“You are very generous, Mr Darcy…”
As she spoke, her lips twisted into a small, teasing laugh.
Their eyes were still locked, her lips—now moist and red as she licked them repeatedly—only an impudent inch away from his while she brushed her body against him, attempting to find a more comfortable position and oblivious to the sensations aroused within him.
Her lack of experience was deliciously compensated by her fresh awareness of her own desires and her newly discovered sensuality.
He smiled at her and to himself, his heart melting with love while his body painfully bore his restrained passion.
With one arm, he pulled her body closer to his, and with the other gently pressed her head to his, until their mouths almost touched—and then he released his grip and closed his eyes, allowing her the liberty of choosing what to do next.
Gently, shyly, her lips brushed over his, tantalizing them; he still did not move.
As though demanding their rights, her lips pressed against his with more daring, and he could not help laughing against her mouth as he easily recognized her mirroring his own kisses as she learned from them.
He allowed himself to savour her tentative seduction for a few more moments; then he suddenly rolled her over against the pillows and trapped her with his arms. She was surprised and puzzled, glancing at him in wonder; the thin nightgown had fallen from her shoulders, barely protecting the silky skin of her breasts, which moved heavily with each breath.
He leaned towards her, gently removed the locks of hair from her temple then kissed her eyes.
“Did you read my letters?” he asked, his fingers playing with her hair.
“Oh, yes…yes I did…thank you,” she answered, lost under his gaze.
“I hope you enjoyed them, though there were things that are not easy to read or to forgive. I did not want to conceal anything from you. I wrote them honestly with my heart and my mind open to you—my soul and my love in four letters.”
“I do love them dearly. And I wrote four letters of my own.” She smiled, and his eyes lit immediately. “I wrote down all of my thoughts, all of my feelings, day by day and moment by moment since the first day we met—just as you did.”
“I want to read them,” he said, and his eagerness made her laugh.
“You will—tomorrow. I brought them with me—my soul and my love in four letters.”
For some time they looked at each other in perfect silence.
Then his left hand slowly caressed her face, and as gentle as a breeze, his fingers traced the line of her neck, slowly brushing over her bare shoulders then down to the edge of her gown.
She shivered under his touch, and her breathing became heavier; their eyes continued to hold so each could read the other’s tumult of feelings.
His hands continued their conquering journey with gentle tenderness, brushing tentatively through the silky fabric over her breasts, lingering a long, sweet moment; she moaned and closed her eyes though she was not certain whether he truly touched her or she merely craved the warmth of his hands.
His caresses glided further, still gentle and patient, down to her belly, along her hips, and over her thighs…
Not for an instant did he attempt to remove her nightgown; his fingers only touched her bare skin where it was already revealed to him—on her arms, her shoulders, and her neck.
His gaze eventually released hers as his lips slowly followed the burning trace of his fingers; countless kisses covered her face, neck, and shoulders until his lips, warm and moist, reached the edge of her gown.
Against her desires and hopes, his kisses travelled back until his yearning mouth found hers, and for a time their passion found release in a game of conquest and surrender, of demand and neglect.
Hardly catching his breath, his hands still caressing her with restless desire, he separated from her a little, watching her beautiful, flustered face, the sparkle in her eyes, and the moist redness of her swollen lips.
“It is time to stop now, or we might not be able to stop soon enough,” he whispered.
She daringly held his gaze, her hands encircling his neck. “Do you wish to stop?”
“I wish nothing more than to continue, my love. But I made a promise to your father, and I plan to keep it. Besides, I certainly do not want to remember our first night together connected to the painful distress you had to bear because of Wickham. Let us sleep now, shall we? I will stay with you a little longer if you wish.”
“Thank you for your care, my dearest Mr Darcy. And for your wisdom and for your tenderness and…”
“I believe you should stop, Miss Bennet, or I shall be lead to believe that I truly am a man without fault.” He laughed, caressing her hair.
“It pains me to admit it, but I am afraid Miss Bingley might have been right. I shall acknowledge my error to her the first time we meet again,” she said, and he laughed again, accusing her of being mean and vicious while she sighed in delight as she found a perfect spot near his heart to rest her head.
“William?”
“Yes, my love?” he replied, surprised that she was not yet asleep.
“I love Lydia, and I would do anything to help her. I wish nothing but the best for her.”
“I know… I never doubted that…”
“Then how is possible that she is in such a dreadful situation and I can think of little else except how happy I am to be in your arms? How can that be?”
He kissed her hair and pulled her even closer to him. “I will bring Lydia to speak to you and Mrs Gardiner tomorrow. Anything you decide—anything she wants and it will be accomplished. That I promise you.”
He felt her place a kiss on the spot where his heart was as she whispered, “Thank you.”
She soon fell asleep, sighing from time to time, tightly cuddled in his arms. As she moved in her sleep, her nightgown shifted, and for a moment, the splendour of her soft, silky breasts was revealed to him.
He pulled the gown back to her shoulders and arranged it carefully while he covered her with the sheets.
He watched her sleeping, rejoicing in the greatest success of his life; soon, they would be bound together in all ways and for all time, and they would have nothing else to worry about. If only the next day would pass as he planned…
Darcy did not sleep at all; his mind was fully preoccupied with the next day’s events while trying to command his tortured body to resist the painful, delicious torture of having her so close.
It was finally morning.