Chapter 1.30 #2
She had no time to continue as his mouth captured hers with a possessiveness that admitted no opposition.
She never considered deterring him, not even when his caresses, gentle and tender at first, grew more daring and demanding than ever before.
These were the kisses and caresses of a husband—and she was his wife.
His fingers unbuttoned her pelisse and pulled it apart, exposing her to his eager hands, which travelled without restraint along each part of her body. His kiss grew more passionate, possessive, and demanding, as if his lips were driven by an urge impossible to control or appease.
Elizabeth focused all her strength on a struggle to conceal her moans, mortified that the footmen would hear her, though the struggle seemed to be futile.
Fortunately, their joined lips kept their mixed groans within the privacy of the carriage, but only for the moment.
His hands returned from their passionate journey, and tentatively at first, his fingers engulfed the soft roundness of her breasts; her back arched instinctively, welcoming his touch.
Not surprisingly, he needed no further encouragement.
His moves became almost violent in their eagerness, as violent as the maddening pleasure that left her trembling beneath his caress.
One of his hands released the object of his previous desire and slowly glided down along her body towards her legs, which parted slightly under the delicious insistence of his touch; deep moans escaped her mouth and, to conceal them, she bit her lips—and his.
With increased possessiveness, his fingers slid down, stroking, tantalising, burning her almost painfully through the thin fabric until countless waves of pleasure shattered her body… and she knew nothing more.
Elizabeth could not tell whether an eternity or only a few moments passed until she finally opened her eyes and met his gaze only inches away from hers.
She struggled hard to breathe again—as did he.
His forehead leaned against hers as several moments elapsed before he drew back and looked into her face.
She felt her cheeks flush and her lips—pained from her bite and swollen from his passion—could not say a word; silently, her eyes stared at him shyly, wonderingly, begging him to say something to break the unbearable tension.
She wanted to ask him what happened to her, but how could she voice the question?
Finally, carefully arranging her pelisse around her, he managed to speak, his worry and uneasiness obvious in his countenance.
“I am sorry, my love. I completely lost control. I am afraid I acted like a savage.”
“You must not apologise. We are married now. You may do whatever you please.”
She felt mortified by her own words and reactions, which had encouraged him to act in that manner, and she could barely meet his eyes.
“Yes, we are married…still, that does not excuse my behaviour. We are in a carriage with two footmen escorting us! I should not have—”
She turned her head to the window, unable to hold his gaze any longer.
He seemed so full of remorse, so willing to apologise…
and his words only made her feel more ashamed of herself and her feelings.
She was certain he had done something entirely wrong.
So how was it possible for her to enjoy it so much?
She felt him leaning closer to her, and his hand turned her face towards him.
“Elizabeth? I cannot bear to see you upset with me…”
Her words finally came out in a cascade of mixed emotions, which flustered her face even more.
“William, I am not upset with you…I am just…I do not know what happened to me. And you apologised, so it must be something bad. But all I know is that you kissed me as you have done before. Well…no, not as before; still, you only kissed me and I…” She averted her eyes from him again, unable to continue speaking.
If she could have held his gaze a moment longer, she would have witnessed the change in his countenance, lightened by his sudden understanding.
However, she only felt his arm encircle her shoulders and pull her gently against his chest. She hid her face inside his opened coat and remained still while his hand tenderly stroked her hair and his comforting words warmed her ear.
“My love, I did not mean to imply that kissing you or touching you is wrong, especially now that we are married. I only meant that I should not have forced myself upon you in the carriage.”
She only nodded without lifting her face from his chest. He continued with a lower voice even closer to her ear. “And I certainly did not mean that what you felt or what I felt was wrong.”
She stiffened in his arms and whispered, her eyes still not meeting his, “Do you know what I felt?”
His voice grew huskier as he whispered back, “I know that you just discovered the flavour of passion, the exquisite pleasure of a shared love.”
Again the surprise of his statement found her unprepared while his words and the inflexion in his voice made her head spin. “The pleasure of shared love…” How could the incredible sensation she just experienced be voiced aloud? Yet, he seemed to know exactly how to describe it.
“You seem to know so much about that…” She startled violently at the sound of her own words, shocked and frightened at daring to say such a thing to him, and on their wedding day no less.
She expected him to be upset or even angry, and justifiably so; no lady would raise such a subject in front of her husband.
She hardly moved in his arms, waiting for his reaction, which came a moment later.
With no less surprise did she feel his lips upon the top of her head and his hand upon her cheek. The amusement in his voice could not be concealed.
“My dearest Elizabeth…yes, it might be said that I do know more than you about ‘that’…and about many other things in life. And I dare say that is how things should be—first, because I am a man and, second, because I am older than you. In fact, I am quite old, as Becky said.”
He paused a moment, and then added in a different tone, the tone of his voice meant only for her.
“But, my love, I have to confess that my feelings and sensations when I am with you, when I merely look at you, or when I am only thinking of you are as completely new for me as they are for you. The pleasure—the happiness—aroused in me by your presence, by your touch, by your kisses, or simply by your smiles is more powerful than anything I have ever experienced in my life.”
How could she respond to such a statement?
Someone who felt less, perhaps, would find the proper words.
Her hands silently encircled his waist tightly, and she placed a long, lingering kiss on his chest—a light kiss through his clothes upon his heart.
After a few long moments spent in blissful silence, his lips started to move slightly over her hair.
Her face lifted to him and soon their lips joined in another kiss.
Yet this time the kiss was significantly shorter in duration; he withdrew a bit, stared at her, and then chuckled boyishly.
“Mrs Darcy, this will not do. We can never manage to end our journey benignly if we continue in this way. It is your responsibility to keep me under good regulation until we arrive in London.”
“I shall try, Mr Darcy.” She endeavoured to regain her composure, still feeling the disappointment of their short, broken kiss.
For her, it was difficult to understand why he would be opposed to them kissing, even caressing each other once they were married, but she decided not to deliberate it further and to oblige him.
He might have a good reason for doing so.
“Very well, sir, but if I were you, I would not trust me in this. As I already have proved to you, I am far from able to keep my own behaviour under good regulation. But I shall try. Perhaps some conversation would do, do you not think so?”
“Yes, I think it would.” He smiled openly at her light teasing and kissed her hand. “Do you have a favourite topic, Mrs Darcy?”
“I do not know…books, perhaps?”
“Oh, please no…I could not possibly have such a serious conversation on our wedding day.”
She looked at him for a few moments, good-humouredly, her spirits raised to playfulness again. She exceedingly enjoyed their teasing conversations, and it helped her to keep her mind—and obviously his—occupied during the long hours they had to spend in the carriage.
“Then perhaps you would be so kind as to tell me some details about the Season? I must confess I have very little knowledge about what I should expect.”
He stared at her, a puzzled expression on his face. “About the Season? What is there to say? There will be some balls, some dinner parties and, fortunately, the theatre and the opera—that is all.”
His annoyed countenance made her laugh heartily. She could well believe that, for him, the Season had little attraction.
“Well, sir, if we end the topic so soon, I am afraid I shall not be able to keep an interesting conversation going until we reach London. Do you have other ideas?”
He did think of various topics for them to discuss, and they spent the rest of the journey talking about anything that crossed their minds, Pemberley being their favourite subject.
However, none of the topics proved sufficiently interesting to keep them from overlooking their earlier passion and re-enacting the kisses quite regularly.