Chapter 1.30 #4
“What do I want you to do?” He stared at her with his eyes wide open, trying to find the proper words; then his face lightened as his voice turned more serious, even demanding. “For the moment, I want you in bed…this instant!”
Without waiting for a response, he hastily lifted her from the floor, walking across the room with the sweet burden in his arms. Elizabeth startled, her heart pounding so wildly that she could hear its echo in her ears.
She closed her eyes, waiting for him to lay her on the bed and renew those activities they had engaged in many times before.
Instead, she felt herself being put in the bed in a sitting position, while he wrapped her in bed sheets as silky as her gown.
His arms withdrew from around her, and she immediately felt cold and lonely without his touch.
Opening her eyes, she saw him standing with his back to her, and she could not figure out what he was doing and why he was not joining her. Soon, the room darkened with only two candles in a far corner and the blazing fire. She understood: she had been cold, and he had made the room warmer for her.
His voice brought her back from her reverie.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
She hesitated only a moment. “If you wish…a little wine would be fine, I think.”
She barely recognised her hesitant voice and did not say another word until he returned with a bottle of wine and a glass. She had not noticed that there was a bottle of wine in her room.
With controlled gestures admitting no resistance, he filled the glass with a practiced hand, handed it to her, and then climbed onto the edge of the bed, turned towards her so they could face each other. He continued to stare at her, an ambiguous smile at the corners of his mouth.
She searched his face for any kind of hint as to his wishes but could not figure him out.
His gaze showed passion; his hands slowly moved to touch the fabric of her gown, brushing her leg—first tentatively and then more daringly.
His smile was the thing that disconcerted her most. Nervously, she hid her emotions behind the glass and quickly swallowed a mouthful of red wine.
His hands reached for her hair, which was almost covering her face, and arranged her heavy locks behind her ears.
“Elizabeth, are you feeling better now?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you.”
“I am glad. Is the wine to your liking?”
“Yes, very much.” Only then did she notice that he had not taken a glass for himself.
“Will you not pour some for yourself? I thought we would drink together.”
“We shall…that is why I filled the glass—so there would be enough for both of us.”
“Oh…” She could think of nothing else to say—just held the glass in her hands, her eyes on his, waiting…waiting for him.
“Then…shall I tell you what else I want you to do now?” His left hand played with her hair while his right one slowly moved along her throat and down to her neckline.
His fingers reached the line of her gown, stopped there a moment, and then moved again, stroking the fine fabric and her bare silky skin.
He could feel her shivering and moved closer until he could sense her irregular breathing.
She startled, blushed violently, and clenched the glass tighter, but she did not avert her eyes.
He was so close to her that only a few inches separated them.
She did not want him to move away from her again.
She smiled at him: reassuringly, lovingly, shyly.
She reached to stroke his face, and he turned his head to place a kiss in her palm.
“Yes, please tell me. I love you so much, William. I want nothing more than to make you happy.”
She leaned in a little, and her lips brushed his.
It was an invitation he did not fail to understand, but he also realised that she remained uneasy.
He hesitated a little, his desire tempting him to reciprocate; she was clearly offering herself to him, but his own desire was of little consequence. The only things that mattered to him were her wishes and desires.
“Elizabeth, I am happy. I do not think a man could be happier than I am.”
His lips brushed back against hers, and he placed a feathery kiss on the spot near her ear.
She shivered again, and the glass trembled in her hand. His palm covered her fingers around the glass, holding them steady. He raised the glass to her mouth, and she took another swallow, the dizzying liquor spreading inside her body before it was her turn to direct the glass towards him.
“It is very good. You should taste a little.”
He decidedly took the glass from her hand, whispering huskily, “Yes, I should.” He did so a moment later, setting the glass aside and tasting, not from the glass but from her lips, his tongue tantalising them to part for him, and they did so, welcoming his tender invasion.
Her lips were incomparably sweeter then the wine.
His arms could not wait a moment longer to embrace her gently and tenderly with the same care he showed her when he kissed her for the first time.
“Elizabeth…the only thing I want you to do for me is to love me…and to allow me to prove my love for you. There is nothing to fear and nothing to worry about tonight. It will be perfect because we are here together, veiled in so much love, so much passion…so much desire…”
His face was only a few inches from hers, and her eyes delighted in admiring his handsome features as her heart rejoiced, understanding the heartfelt meaning of his words. All her uncertainties and restraint vanished one by one until they were gone as if they had never existed.
“Mr Darcy, I shall be happy to comply with your every wish…and particularly this one.” Her fingers reached to caress his beloved face: eyelids, cheeks, and mouth. Her lips eagerly followed the path of her fingers.
He closed his eyes, abandoning himself to the pleasure of her soft lips covering his face with light kisses, gently at first, and then more daring.
His lips and his soul smiled as he revelled in the proof of not only her love but also her maidenly passion.
His hands reached the belt of her night robe and untied it, but she did not even seem to notice, her lips never leaving his face.
Only when he slowly, patiently pulled the robe from her shoulders and removed it from around her did she react.
Her eyes found his, and they silently spoke to each other.
Her hands encircled his neck and she leaned back against the pillows, pulling him with her until she felt trapped under his warm weight, but she did not want to escape.
Her body wanted to surrender to him—as her heart had surrendered so long ago—and feel the heat of passion.
She wanted their love to be complete in every way and in every sense.
His strong palms cupped her face, and he buried his fingers in her hair, fixing her head on the pillow; she was indeed trapped. She started to laugh, remembering him holding her in the same manner the night they slept together. “You remember,” he whispered, smiling with heartfelt delight.
“How could I forget?” she replied. “I remember everything, starting with that day in the cottage. I remember every word, every touch, every look…” He lowered his face to hers, kissing her smile, her cheeks, her temples, the spot near her ears, and then her chin and down to her throat while she continued to whisper, “…and every kiss.”
He stopped and met her eyes again, his fingers removing a lock from her forehead.
“You know, Elizabeth…that day in the cottage, when I saw you wrapped in that dirty, smelly blanket, your hair in such disorder, your beautiful face dirty…I was frightened by how much I wanted you. I had never desired anything as much in my life and never would again. But I was wrong. There is something I want much more than I wanted you that day. It is you, now.”
She smiled at him, flustered and mortified by what she intended to say; yet, the words came out nevertheless.
“But you said there is nothing to be frightened of, and now we are married. Whatever you want from me, you may have.”
“My dearest Elizabeth…” were the last words she heard from him, words he continued to whisper over and over until his lips passionately fell upon hers again.
His kisses—countless kisses that spread from her lips to her cheeks, her eyes, the line of her jaw and back to her lips again—were as patient and gentle as they had been on the first day of their engagement. There was no urgency, no release, and no overwhelming passion—only love, tenderly bestowed.
His hands travelled gently along her body, exploring each part of it; the soft fabric of her nightgown flowed through his fingers, brushing over her skin and sliding down from her shoulders and lower until she remained enfolded only in his adoring gaze.
Her eyes were closed; she did have enough courage to look at him, but she could feel his gaze burning every inch of her bare skin.
Her body remained uncovered but a moment until his hands draped her in sweet caresses and his lips covered her with kisses, softer than any silk and warmer than any velvet.
His lips departed from the sweetness of her mouth, into a maddening exploration of her beauty.
More daring and more hurried than his lips, which rested for a moment near the hollow of her ear to whisper his love, his hands did not stop until they reached the perfect roundness of her breasts.
He groaned loudly at the exquisite pleasure of touching her unrestrainedly for the first time.
He greedily cupped the long-desired softness in his palms. His restless fingers traced tantalising circles closer and closer to the pink centres, which hardened under his touch, begging for more.
He gave her more when his lips blazed a path along her neck, claiming their right to savour the taste of her skin.