Chapter 13 #4
A small laugh escaped her, warm and genuine despite the tears that had begun to glimmer in her eyes. “Oh, you impossible man. I came to the garden tonight with the express purpose of telling you that I love you, and now you would deny me the opportunity to say it first.”
Joy surged through him with such intensity that for a moment he could not speak. “You... intended to tell me?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth’s smile broke through like sunlight. “I was determined to find the courage to acknowledge what has been growing within me for weeks. That what began as reluctant acceptance of an unwelcome situation has transformed into the greatest happiness I have ever known.”
“Elizabeth.” Darcy whispered.
“I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Her voice gained strength with each word. “Not for Pemberley or your position, not for security or advantage, but for the man I have discovered beneath the reserve and dignity—a man of profound integrity, tenderness, and genuine worth.”
He drew Elizabeth into his arms, cradling her face with one hand while the other pressed her close against him. “May I kiss you?”
“Please.” Elizabeth whispered, already lifting her face to his.
The kiss that followed transcended any they had shared before, even in their most intimate moments.
When they finally separated, breathless and flushed despite the cool night air, Darcy rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to create more distance between them than absolutely necessary. “I never imagined this outcome when we took our vows.”
“Nor did I.” Elizabeth’s hands rested against his chest where his heartbeat echoed her own. “Though I believe Jane suspected the possibility before either of us acknowledged it. She wrote weeks ago asking if I was truly happy or reconciled to my situation.”
“What did you reply?”
Elizabeth considered the question. “That I was discovering happiness in places I hadn’t looked for it. Though I had not yet found courage to name what I was feeling, even to myself.”
“What changed?”
“Many things. Your care during Georgiana’s illness.
Your handling of Wickham’s threats. The quiet improvements to tenant cottages based on concerns I had mentioned only in passing.
” She paused, her expression softening. “But most significant was your willingness to listen when I challenged you, to reconsider positions you once held immutable.”
“We have taught each other, I think.” Elizabeth’s fingers traced the line of his jaw with gentle wonder. “I too have learned much about hasty judgment, about the difference between appearance and reality, about the quiet ways love can develop.”
The use of that word—love—still sent a thrill through Darcy each time he heard it from her lips.
Darcy kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands moving from her face to her waist, pulling her closer. She melted against him with a soft sound that went straight to his groin. The kiss grew heated, urgent.
When he drew back, he was breathing hard. “Elizabeth, I want—” He broke off, uncertain how to voice the desire coursing through him.
“What do you want?” She looked up at him, her eyes dark with matching desire.
“You. Here. Now.” The words came out rough. “If you are willing.”
Elizabeth glanced around the garden. They were entirely alone, the house distant enough that no servants would disturb them. The fountain splashed nearby, and the roses surrounded them in fragrant privacy.
“Yes.” She breathed the word against his lips. “Yes, Fitzwilliam.”
He kissed her again, walking her backward until her back met the stone wall surrounding the fountain. His hands moved to the fastenings of her gown, fingers clumsy with urgency but determined. She helped him, reaching back to undo what he could not.
The silk slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Beneath, she wore only her shift and stays. Darcy’s breath caught at the sight of her in the moonlight—her skin luminous, her curves outlined by thin fabric.
“You are exquisite.”
“And you are overdressed.” Her fingers moved to his cravat, loosening it with surprising deftness.
He shrugged out of his coat, letting it fall to join her gown. His waistcoat followed. She worked the buttons of his shirt while he unlaced her stays, each movement deliberate despite their shared urgency.
When her stays fell away and only the thin shift remained, he cupped her breasts through the fabric, feeling her nipples harden beneath his palms. She gasped, arching into his touch.
“Fitzwilliam.”
He pulled the shift up and over her head, leaving her bare before him. For a moment he simply looked, committing this vision to memory—Elizabeth in the moonlight, desire written plainly across her features, offering herself to him without reservation.
“I love you.” He spoke the words again because he could, because she wanted to hear them, because they were true.
“And I love you.” She reached for him, pulling him down for another kiss.
His hands roamed her body—the gentle curves, the soft skin, the places he had learned would make her gasp and shudder. She worked his shirt free, her palms sliding across his chest with a touch that made him groan.
“We should—the ground—” He gestured vaguely, uncertain of logistics.
“Your coat.” She glanced at where it lay. “And mine. Together they should suffice.”
He spread both garments on the grass near the fountain wall, creating a makeshift bed. When he turned back, she was watching him with such open affection that his throat tightened.
“Come here.” He held out his hand.
She took it, letting him guide her down onto the spread coats. The silk was cool beneath her back, but his body was warm as he covered her, bracing himself on his forearms to keep his full weight off her.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Yes.” She smiled up at him. “More than comfortable. Perfect.”
He kissed her again while his hand traveled down her body to the juncture of her thighs. She was ready for him, and he groaned at the discovery.
“Elizabeth.”
She spread her legs wider, welcoming him. “Please, Fitzwilliam.”
He positioned himself, the head of his manhood pressing against her entrance. Their eyes met. He pushed forward, sheathing himself in her.
She shifted her hips. “Move. Please.”
He withdrew slowly, then thrust back in. The angle was different from their bed at Pemberley—deeper somehow, more intense. Her head fell back, exposing the long line of her throat, and he bent to kiss the pulse point there while he established a rhythm.
“I love you.” He whispered it against her skin between kisses. “I love you.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips, drawing him deeper. “Show me how much.”
He increased his pace, driving into her with steady strokes. She matched him movement for movement, her hips rising to meet his thrusts. The fountain splashed nearby, providing cover for their lovemaking.
His hand slipped between their bodies, finding the sensitive bud he had discovered increased her pleasure. She gasped at the contact, clenching around him.
“Fitzwilliam, I—oh—”
“Let go.” He circled her with his thumb while maintaining his thrusts. “I have you. Let go.”
She shattered beneath him, crying out his name. The feel of her contracting around him pushed him over the edge. He thrust deep one final time, spilling himself inside her with a groan.
For a long moment they lay tangled together, breathing hard. The night air cooled their heated skin, but Darcy made no move to separate from her. This—Elizabeth in his arms, both of them sated and vulnerable—was perfection.
Eventually she stirred beneath him. “We should return to the house before we catch cold.”
“In a moment.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Let me hold you a little longer.”
She relaxed against him with a contented sigh. “A little longer, then.”
When they finally roused themselves to dress, the movements were tender, unhurried.
He helped her back into her shift and stays, she retied his cravat with fingers that trembled slightly.
They grinned at each other like conspirators as they brushed grass from fabric and attempted to restore some semblance of respectability.
“Do I look thoroughly debauched?” Elizabeth asked, smoothing her hair.
“Beautiful.” He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You look beautiful.”
Distant thunder rumbled as they finally turned toward the house, hands joined. The first drops of rain began to fall, cool against their skin.
“Another storm.” Elizabeth’s voice held amusement.
“Yes.” Darcy drew her closer as they quickened their pace toward the terrace. “Though this one holds no threat.”
They reached the shelter of the doorway just as the rain began in earnest, and Elizabeth turned in his arms, her expression radiant despite the water beading in her hair. “No. No threat at all.”