Chapter 10 #2
“Of course, Elizabeth. I envision these rooms as ours. While I understand there may be times when we desire privacy, I would prefer that, for the most part, we keep our rooms open to each other. My hope is that the door between our chambers remains open throughout our marriage,” Darcy replied as he led her towards the door in the centre of the wall on one side.
Elizabeth paused, releasing a slow breath as she gathered her thoughts.
“Fitzwilliam,” she began carefully, “I am not the same innocent girl I was when we first met. I have grown more aware of the world and its complexities.” She hesitated, her eyes searching his for reassurance.
“I have overheard things—things some of the ladies in Meryton have said—about men of the first circles, or married men in general. They mentioned, almost casually, that many are not entirely faithful to their wives, particularly in arranged marriages.”
Her voice faltered slightly, but she pressed on. “I know this is something we should have discussed before our wedding, but I must admit… I do not think I could ever tolerate such a thing. Please, reassure me that this will not be our fate.”
Clasping her hand in his, he brought it to her lips for a kiss, holding on to it tightly as he spoke earnestly.
“I love you, Elizabeth, and have been faithful to your memory for the last four years. I will never desire another woman—have never desired another woman. I will never stray from our marriage bed, of that, you can be certain.”
Elizabeth sagged into Fitzwilliam’s chest. Immediately, his arms came around her. “I am sorry this thought has troubled you, my dear,” he whispered, his breath in her ear tickling her and sending a shiver down her body.
“It was foolish of me to worry about it,” Elizabeth said, her voice softening, but the heat in her gaze undeniable.
“I know how much you love me. But for now, my dear sir,” she paused, stepping closer, her breath warm against his cheek, “we have waited long enough. It is time for you to show me your room… and your bed.”
Her words were husky, laced with an unmistakable desire that sent a thrill through Darcy.
His pulse quickened at the look in her eyes, the boldness of her tone.
For the past few nights, at the various inns they had stayed in, he had respected her need for rest and privacy, content to merely sleep beside her.
But now, with the spark of longing in her voice, he could no longer deny that the time for patience had come to an end.
Elizabeth felt a surge of confidence as she watched his reaction—he had been so patient, so reserved, and she knew she had to be the one to break through that restraint. It was time for their marriage to truly begin.
With a teasing smile, she took a step back, her hand lightly trailing down his chest. “Shall we?” she asked, her words both an invitation and a challenge, knowing he would not deny her.
Darcy’s breath hitched, the tension between them palpable.
Without a word, he reached for her, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and hungry, as if they were both starved for this moment.
The years of restraint, the quiet yearning—all of it came rushing to the surface in that single kiss.
“You drive me quite mad, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her lips, his hands guiding her towards the bed.
Elizabeth’s heart raced as she followed him. She could feel so much—the heat of his hand on her waist, the brush of his breath against her skin, the pounding of his heart—and it made her feel alive in a way she had never felt before.
As they came nearer, Darcy paused, turning towards her, his gaze intense. “Are you certain, Elizabeth?” His voice was low, but the vulnerability in it was clear. “You have only to say the word, and we can wait until you are comfortable.”
Elizabeth stepped closer, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the feel of his skin sending a shiver through her.
She looked up at him, her expression soft but filled with an undeniable desire.
“I am,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I want this, Fitzwilliam. I am ready to be your wife.”
Without a word, Darcy’s eyes roamed over her form, and his desire mirrored her own.
He pulled her close again, his lips capturing hers with a fervency that took her breath away.
His kiss deepened, and Elizabeth felt her pulse quicken in response, the world around them fading into nothing but the warmth of his embrace.
She broke the kiss, her breath ragged, and met his gaze. “Make me yours,” she said, her voice raw with emotion.
Darcy’s hands moved to her shoulders, his touch gentle but firm as he pulled her towards the bed. “You are, my love. You always have been. And I am yours.”
The words were like a spark, igniting the fire between them once more. They helped each other undress until she was just in her shift and he was only in his trousers. Laying her on the bed with reverence, he gazed at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world.
As he leant over her, his lips traced a path down her neck, and Elizabeth’s breath caught. She arched into him, her body pressing against his as if they were two halves of the same whole. “Fitzwilliam,” she breathed, her voice thick with longing.
“I am here, love,” he whispered, his lips moving back to hers as he joined her, each lost in the shared warmth and intimacy of the moment. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was this connection between them.
Later, they lay together, each feeling a deep sense of completeness. She was his, as he was hers. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only the two of them, wrapped in the intimacy of their love.