Chapter Twelve #3
He reclined upon a chaise, before settling her between his outstretched legs.
Elizabeth leaned against his bare chest, sighing as his arms encircled her.
“This is comfortable, Sir,” she murmured, snuggling into him.
He kissed the top of her head and gently rubbed her shoulders.
“I came to thank you.” She kissed his chest and heard Darcy’s breath catch in his throat.
“I do not believe I deserve thanks.” His voice sounded strained.
Elizabeth turned in his arms so she might face him. “Oh, but you do. My wardrobe is filled with new gowns and finery such as I could never imagine. I do not merit such extravagance.”
“Then Madame Lucinda finished her work? I hoped as such.” Darcy kissed the tip of her nose.
“It is not just gowns. It is these!” She reached into a pocket of her wrapper and pulled out a pair of silk stockings. “Feel how fine these are.” She handed them to Darcy.
Darcy chuckled lightly. “I think I would prefer them on your legs when I touch them. When I purchased them, it was with such a thought.”
“Mr. Darcy, you are a cad!” Elizabeth swatted at his chest.
Darcy leaned forward to kiss her tenderly. “Am I not to appreciate the beauty of my wife?” He pulled her closer. “You should know when a man desires something as I do you, he will do what he must to possess it.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, overcome by the scent of his maleness. “I will wear them especially for you.” His arms tightened about her. They remained as such until she sat up with a start. “Oh, I forgot.” She was filled with excitement. “Wait here. I have something for you.”
She scrambled from the chaise before Darcy could stop her. “Elizabeth,” he called out, “this is not necessary.”
Within seconds, she reappeared in the doorway of his dressing room. Her hands were clasped behind her as she approached. “This is not as sensual as a pair of silk stockings,” she began.
“Three pairs,” her husband corrected.
“Yes, three pairs,” she said and laughed. “But I hope my small gesture will please you. It is a token of my regard.”
Darcy sat up to accept the package. He unwrapped the string and brown paper. Elizabeth watched as he lightly touched the raised letters on the front of the book. “You remembered our first conversation in the Netherfield library,” he said.
“There is little about you I forget.”
When he opened the book to read the inscription, suddenly shy, Elizabeth looked away. Yet, she had nothing of which to worry. He took her in his arms. “Oh, my love.” He lowered his head to kiss her in earnest.
Elizabeth had no idea what her heartfelt present would do to her husband’s composure. He deepened the kiss and clasped her harder to him. Their mouths angled. For a few minutes, they were both lost until Darcy’s reason resurfaced. “Elizabeth,” he moaned as he broke the kiss.
“I must purchase a library full of books if this is my reward.”
Darcy released her and backed away. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I cannot do this, Elizabeth.”
She stood there, stunned.
“I cannot succumb to your charms! I cannot ruin your life by touching you the way I wish to touch you!”
“William,” she whispered softly.
“I made you my wife to protect you from Wickham. I will not allow my passion to rule me,” he declared.
“William, when I am with you, I am happier than I have ever been.”
“I feel the same.” His words soothed her disappointment.
“But I must control my urges,” he continued, causing her fresh pain.
“As husband and wife, we will spend time together during the day, but at night, I will sleep in my chambers, and you will sleep in yours. Lock your door, Elizabeth. My resolve is strong now, but it could weaken.”
“We will not act as you describe, Mr. Darcy,” she countered in defiant tones. “Ours is considered a love match. Your staff will say you married me because you compromised me. They will criticize your bringing your sister into the house with a woman of loose morals.”
Darcy blew out a breath marked with frustration. “Elizabeth, I desire you. I am consumed by my need to claim you as a man and as a vampire. I am as abhorrent as Wickham.”
Elizabeth flushed with anger. “Then you must find a means to control your desires, Mr. Darcy. Neither your sister nor I will suffer shame because of your choices. Our arrangement was I would be treated as your wife in every way except one. My reputation as a genteel woman and as the mistress of your estate depends upon the facade we create. I will not be treated as an afterthought by you.”
He stated in earnest, “I would never have you know harm, Elizabeth.”
“Then you will join me in my chamber.” She glared at him and left his room.
Darcy studied her retreating form. His wife spoke sense, but he did not think it possible to deny the pleasure of touching her.
He wanted to devour her nakedness. He wished to kiss her and feel her quiver beneath him.
He desired to lose himself in her body until his passion was sated.
And then there was the one point on her neck, the point where Elizabeth’s lifeline pulsed below the surface.
Darcy could not forget the sweet taste of her blood on his lips.
Never had he felt such a compelling need for anyone.
Never had his blood lust run so wild. Darcy did not know which expression of desire would satisfy him more.
With resigned self-contempt, he opened the door to the adjoining dressing rooms, leading to his wife’s bedchamber.
Entering the open door to Elizabeth’s room, he noted the presence of only a single candle on the bed stand.
The only other light came from the fireplace.
He walked to the far side of her bed and, turning back the linens, Darcy slid his long frame into the bed.
He blew out the candle and moved to spoon her body with his, draping an arm over her waist and pulling Elizabeth into his chest. The scent of lavender drifted over him.
“Thank you, William.” Her voice was barely audible.
“It is for the best, Elizabeth,” he said quietly, but Darcy could not decide which “hell” was worse: the one Wickham peopled with his followers or Darcy’s personal one of loving a woman he could not have.