Chapter 2.6 #4
“I agree,” Lady Matlock intervened with a restrained smile. “However, marriage for love is a subject barely known to most of the people here, and that makes Darcy’s behaviour even more difficult to understand and accept.”
“Not that Darcy would care much about the acceptance of anyone outside his close family,” the colonel whispered with a grin, snatching another full glass as he watched his cousin lost in his wife’s bright eyes.
Indeed, why would he care about anyone else besides the beautiful woman who obviously adores him and with whom he will go home soon?
Darcy had always been a smart and decided man; nobody could deny that.
And that night he had proved it once again.
Before dawn, the ball ended, and the Darcys eventually were able to take their leave.
After a warm farewell from the Matlocks and their hosts, they were finally alone in the carriage.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Darcy sat on the opposite bench and only watched her without any other gesture.
She held his eyes for a few moments, trying to hide her amusement.
“You are staring, sir.”
“Am I?”
“Indeed, you are.”
“You must be right. Does it trouble you?”
Elizabeth could see how he struggled to conceal the smile that was twisting his lips and to appear solemn.
“A little. Unless you reveal the reason for your stare.”
“Can you not guess it?”
“Hardly.”
“I doubt it. Had you been oblivious of my interest, you would not have blushed so becomingly.”
She laughed heartily. “You have been staring most of the night. I hope you were not displeased with my manners during the ball.”
“Not with your manners but with the others’. Since I did not dance with anyone’s wife, I would expect the same courtesy in return.”
She laughed again. “Come, sir, everybody knows your dislike of dancing, but fortunately, it is not a common trait. Balls would be sad and boring if all gentlemen shared the same repugnance for such activities. Most ladies enjoy dancing.”
“I enjoy dancing too—with you.” His voice was solemn, and his eyes darkened.
“I know that, as I enjoy dancing with you too,” she whispered, moving to his side.
He leant towards her. “I was staring because I missed you so much. And because you are so very beautiful.”
“You are partial to me, but I love your lack of objectivity.”
“Not at all— I am always honest. And it just crossed my mind that I would like to have your portrait painted—just as you are now. I shall arrange for a painter to come before we leave for Hertfordshire.”
She gently touched his lips with hers. Her hand caressed his face, and she daringly deepened the kiss while he barely moved. She then placed herself on his lap, and her arms encircled his neck.
With delight, he received her conscious attempt of seduction, caressing her warm body through the fabric of her gown.
“I missed kissing you…and touching you…” he moaned through the kisses. “I could think of little else the whole night…but of this moment when we would be alone in the carriage.”
“I thought more of what will follow later…once we arrive home,” she replied daringly, and he withdrew a moment to look at her laughing, teasing eyes; then his hands cupped her face to savour the smile of her red lips.
Neither of them noticed when the carriage stopped in front of the house. The footman had to call Darcy several times until he finally regained some composure and helped his wife to leave the vehicle.
∞∞∞
Molly and Miles were waiting and immediately attended their duties, helping their master and mistress prepare for the night.
Washed and changed into her nightgown, her hair loose on her shoulders, Elizabeth finally realised how tired she was and that her feet—tortured in the exquisite new shoes from dancing the entire night—were swollen and painful.
She cuddled in the bed, covering herself with the thick, soft blankets, and dismissed Molly.
The steadily burning fire gave her a sense of complete peace and comfort.
It had been a pleasant, animated night, but she was happy to be in the silence of their rooms with only the company of the man who mattered most to her.
Darcy appeared shortly and sat on the bed. He slowly caressed her face, arranged the dark locks of hair falling over her temples, and then leant down and gently tasted her lips.
“Are you tired?”
“A little—it is not like I did any hard work,” she said laughing. “Only my feet hurt. My new beautiful shoes are nothing like my comfortable ones that allowed me to walk five miles from Longbourn to Netherfield.”
“Let me see if I can help,” he said, slowly exposing her feet. They did not seem swollen to him but charming, and her delicate ankles allured him. His fingers touched her toes and her heels, rubbing them gently.
He continued his ministrations for some time while she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be spoiled by the most delightful sensations.
His touches burned her skin and spread cold shivers inside her body.
Then his palms cupped her heels, slowly pressing against them.
A moan escaped her lips while his caresses shifted to her ankles.
“Is it better now?” he asked hoarsely.
She nodded and licked her lips. He put her feet in his lap and continued to caress them while he leant to claim her lips. Elizabeth’s hands encircled his neck, and she pulled him toward her.
“Much better,” she whispered. “Everything is much better with you...”
“I am glad, my beloved wife. I miss your closeness, your warmth, your softness…I want to feel you completely. I yearn to be with you…inside you…”
His words were interrupted by eager attempts to satiate their desires.
With hasty movements as she tried to help his efforts, he completely removed his nightclothes and hers then slowly leant over her—skin to skin and heart to heart, hands meeting hands and lips meeting lips, passion matching passion.