Chapter 21—Epilogue
Two Years Later
Lizzy sat on a picnic blanket, her infant son in her arms. Summer sunlight glinted off the pond, white and yellow water lilies floating on the surface. The hint of a warm breeze ruffled her curls.
Darcy carried their adopted daughter Minerva down to the water’s edge. There, he showed her the dragonflies. He loved teaching her new things. She was adding words to her vocabulary at an astonishing rate.
The child had the look of a Darcy about her. Her parents had decided to introduce her as their daughter rather than as a ward. They wanted to avoid speculation that she was Darcy’s child born out of wedlock. Only family, close friends, and loyal retainers knew the truth.
From the moment the midwife had put the newborn girl into Lizzy’s arms, she’d loved her.
Loved her with a fierceness unlike anything she’d known before.
Someday Lizzy would tell her the truth about her origins.
Though another woman had birthed her, that mattered not to Lizzy.
She couldn’t love the child more if she were her own flesh.
The baby began to fuss, and Lizzy nursed him.
She treasured these intimate moments with her son.
She’d had to hire a wet nurse for Minerva, of course.
It had been bittersweet to see another woman caring for her daughter that way.
She’d decided then—she wouldn’t hand over that responsibility for the children she bore.
Darcy walked Minerva back to the blanket, holding her little hand in his. She opened the picnic basket, and he gave her a sweet. She was a curious, adventurous girl who would surely prove a handful as she grew.
“These picnics will be more challenging,” Lizzy said to him, “once the children are both walking. It would only take a moment for one of them to toddle off into the pond.”
“We can hire an extra nursemaid.”
“Yes, but…” She looked out over the park that fronted Pemberley’s manor house. Her heart warmed. “I like being here alone, just the four of us. Our little family.”
She did miss Georgiana, though. With the London season at an end, Georgiana was visiting her cousins at Amber Glen—the Derbyshire seat of the Earl of Matlock. The countess was preparing her for her come-out the following year.
The question of her curtsey to the queen had been resolved with little fuss.
Lady Matlock didn’t consider court presentation necessary.
Georgiana wasn’t the daughter of a peer.
Besides, after the king had grown ill, the queen had started holding her drawing rooms less frequently.
It had been over a year since the last one.
A pair of swans glided past them on the water’s surface. Beyond, a wooded hillside sloped downwards, then up again. The leaves on the trees showed the first blush of autumn.
Minerva curled up on the blanket, and her little eyes soon fell closed. Darcy sidled up to Lizzy, kissing her cheek. “We’re so blessed,” he said.
“We are. The first time I saw Pemberley, I thought it must be the most beautiful place on earth. I’ve still seen nothing to compare with it. It seems too beautiful not to share.”
Darcy nodded his agreement. “The harvest festival is coming up in a month or two.”
“True…” Lizzy sighed. That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind.
She continued, “Minerva has brought so much joy to our lives. Perhaps we could help other children as well. Children growing up near the mills in Derby, without natural spaces where they can run and play. What would you think of planning monthly excursions for them?”
Darcy cocked his head and gazed at her pensively. “We could talk to the vicar. See if he knows of any organisations in Derby for children in need.”
“That sounds splendid. You could take the two hundred guineas you saved on a court dress for Georgiana and put it to good use.”
He chuckled and leant in for a kiss. “You always inspire me, my sweet wife.”
The touch of his lips inspired Lizzy to more than good deeds. She arched her brows, and he responded with a wicked grin. Gently, they carried their sleeping children inside to the nursery. Then they made their way to the master suite to let their desires roam free.
∞∞∞
Two years of marriage had in no way sated Darcy’s craving for his wife.
Heart racing, he locked the bedroom door behind them with a quiet click.
Without breaking Lizzy’s gaze, he took her hand and led her towards the bed.
She pulled him closer, their bodies pressing together. His lips brushed sweetly against hers.
He lifted her onto the edge of the bed. Her laugh was soft, anticipatory, as he nudged off her shoes and slid his palms along her calves, gathering her skirts in deft hands.
Each inch of exposed skin drew his attention.
He knelt to kiss the dimple of her ankle, the hollow of her knee, the tender inside of her thigh.
“Have I told you today that I adore you?” he murmured against her skin, silken on his lips.
“Not nearly enough,” she teased, fingers threading through his hair. “But you may demonstrate.”
He flashed a smile—feeling boyish, wicked, tender all at once. With agonising slowness, his mouth travelled to the place that turned her breath into a sighing plea.
She fell back against the coverlet, her ribcage rising and falling in a stuttering rhythm. Parting her glistening folds with his tongue, he found her treasured pearl and worshipped her.
The swollen flesh beneath his lips was warm and soft and seemed to spark at his touch. The intoxicating sweetness of her body overwhelmed him, a rush of emotions flooding his senses. She was trusting and vulnerable—and she was his.
His breaths were steeped in her scent, and her sighs bore witness to her ardour. Each heartbeat was a reminder of their bond. Every act of love was a sacred testimony to the pledge that wove their souls together.
Rolling her tender bud between his lips, he triumphed as the tremors overtook her. She abandoned caution, writhing as his name escaped on a helpless cry. He soothed her shivers with lingering kisses on her forbidden flesh.
Her breathing slowed, and he stood to shed his coat and waistcoat. She sat up, her impatient hands loosening his cravat and unbuttoning the placket of his white linen shirt.
“You are indecently handsome.” Her voice was still breathless as she tugged him down to her.
He kissed the inviting curve of her mouth. “And you,” he said, sitting beside her, “are ruinous.”
She smiled coquettishly as his hands found the ribbons at the back of her gown. He loosened them until the bodice slid down, exposing her chemise and stays.
With great tenderness, he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her wedding ring before guiding it to the fastenings at his waist. As she worked open his falls, she traced a finger along the ridge of his cock. He shuddered, the teasing touch strengthening his longing for more.
“You annihilate me,” he said.
“So needy, my love.” Her lips teased his throat. “Your patience will be worth the reward.”
Eagerly, they divested each other of their remaining clothes until nothing separated them. Slipping between the smooth sheets, they pressed their bodies together, skin to skin, radiant in the joy of their union.
She rolled on top of him, her wicked mouth traversing the expanse of his chest, stopping to tantalise his flat nipples. Licking along his clavicle, she left a trail of heat in her wake. She buried her face in his neck, suckling and nipping the tender flesh there, feeding his desire.
A low groan rumbled through his chest. At her ravening touch, his muscles rippled beneath his skin, his breaths hitching with each fleeting kiss.
“So good, Lizzy,” he rasped, his voice strained, his senses intoxicated by her caresses.
She shifted as she moved down his body. Her gaze met his, sparkling with desire. “I’m just getting started.”
She leant over and planted kisses on his stomach, working her way lower until the tip of her tongue brushed his rigid flesh.
His body caught fire. “Yes, Lizzy,” he pleaded, his voice thick with want.
With each caress of her velvet tongue, Darcy’s control wavered. His hips lifted, seeking more of her exquisite torment. She took him into her mouth, inch by inch, sucking him deeper. Each swirl of her tongue hurled him closer to the edge of madness.
His fingers threaded into the silken strands of her hair, not guiding but simply holding on as she lavished attention on him. With half-lidded eyes, he watched her, entranced by the sight of her delicate lips teasing him.
She was a vision of passion, her gaze fixed on his, her cheeks flushed with desire. The soft moans that escaped her throat vibrated against his sensitive flesh, driving him wild with longing.
The fire crackled, and Darcy’s moans mingled with hers. Pressure built within him, a tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm his senses.
But he didn’t want to finish yet. This was about Lizzy, about showing her how much she meant to him. With an effort, he gently eased away, her lips glistening in the firelight.
“Come here.” His voice turned into a low growl of desire. He needed to taste her mouth again, to feel her tremble beneath his touch.
She glided over him, her plump breasts grazing his stomach and chest. As he cupped her face, his thumbs traced the delicate curve of her cheekbone. He tilted up her chin, her eyes blazing with passion.
He captured her in a desperate kiss as if no time had passed since their wedding night. His fingertips brushed her nipples, and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. He caressed her hungrily, tasting those taut peaks.
She straddled his pelvis, and he gripped her hips, his control fraying. His thick, straining cock paused at her entrance.
Their eyes locked, and in that moment, nothing else existed—only the two of them, joining in perfect harmony, body and soul. Nothing could touch them but the depth of their passion.
Slowly, she slid down onto him, and he savoured the way she enfolded him. They moved together, and he sighed at the rightness of it. Thrusting into the familiar fit felt new each time.
Gaze locked with hers, he found the slow, steady rhythm she loved. He stroked her bud with his fingers, evoking soft, eager sounds that guided his caresses.
Her tempo shifted—languor giving way to urgency, tenderness to hunger. His world narrowed to the heat of her body, the touch of her hands, the relentless ascent they travelled together.
She shattered first, clinging to him, her sweet cries filling his ears. He followed on the next breath. He emptied inside her, and she leant over to bless his mouth with long, lingering kisses.
At last, he gentled, and they rolled onto their sides to face each other. Their love-warmed limbs tangled together as they basked in the hush. He tipped onto an elbow and traced the line of her collarbone with an idle fingertip.
“That was magnificent,” she breathed, nestling against his chest. “I feel safe with you. Safe and wanted.”
“You have no idea.” His voice tightened with emotion. He kissed her neck, and her pulse fluttered beneath his lips. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”
Meeting his gaze, she interlaced their fingers. “We belong together. You’re the only one who truly sees me as I am.”
His vision narrowed until all he could see was her. “You make me want to be a better man.”
She gave him a melting smile. “You couldn’t be a better man. You’re a perfectly rendered specimen just as you are.”
He kissed her more deeply, then let out a growl. “I’ll show you how much better I can be.”
Desire flared in her eyes again. “I won’t argue with that.”
He rolled her onto her back and mapped her anew: the slope of her pale shoulder, the soft weight of her breast in his palm, the way her nipple pebbled when he circled it with his thumb. She arched into his touch with a low, needy sound that wrecked him.
“Lizzy,” he whispered, a question in the shape of her name.
“Please,” she answered, opening to him.
He sheathed himself inside her again, his love overflowing. Their bodies moved in synchrony, lost in each other, cocooned in a haze of need. Every touch, every kiss, sent pleasure coursing through his veins, and was gratefully returned.
Lizzy’s body clenched around him, and Darcy surrendered to the ecstasy, her shudders drawing every scintilla of pleasure from him. In the shattering joy of their shared passion, he spilled into her, crying her name in a rough, grateful sound, burying his face in her hair as he held her.
Their heartbeats gradually slowed, and Darcy gathered her closer. He luxuriated in the soft sheets of their four-poster bed, their bodies intertwined in a post-coital haze. The embers of the fire enveloped them in a warm glow.
He drew the coverlet over them both and pressed a kiss to her temple. A sleepy hum was her only answer as she tucked closer. With his beloved wife in his arms and their children safe under their roof, he could only marvel at his luck—at the grace that had brought them here.
∞∞∞
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