Epilogue One #2
She pinched his side. George made an offended noise but did not loosen his grip. By the time they reached the upper floor Bella had surrendered to her fate, although she continued to complain on principle as he carried her along the familiar corridor towards their rooms.
Their rooms were in the quieter eastern wing of Pemberley, well removed from the family bedchambers.
Bella suspected her mother was behind the considerate selection.
The suite had once been reserved for married relations and consisted of two bedchambers connected by a private sitting room, with tall windows overlooking the eastern lawns and a small dressing room for each of them.
It gave them the peculiar pleasure of being at Pemberley without feeling as though she had returned to her girlhood.
George pushed open the door to their sitting room, crossed it without pausing and carried Bella through into the bedchamber beyond.
Only then did he set her down. Bella landed against him, both hands catching at his shoulders as a whoosh of air escaped her causing them both to laugh.
Their amusement faded fast, replaced by something darker.
George's hands remained at her waist, warm and firm through the fabric of her gown, and pulled her firmly against him.
"You are impossible," Bella whispered again, although she made no attempt to move away from him.
"So you have told me." George's hands remained at her waist, his thumbs moving lazily against her hips.
The smug little curve of his mouth made Bella narrow her eyes. "And entirely too pleased with yourself," she added, sliding her hands from his shoulders to the lapels of his coat and smoothing them down with exaggerated care.
Bella tried for severity, but it was difficult when he was standing so close and looking at her in that particular way. "Mina will tell everyone, you know."
"Almost certainly," George said, without the slightest sign of concern.
"Papa may shoot you."
"He likes me. He told me the other day I was a ‘clever fellow’. I may have it engraved on my tombstone."
Bella gave him a look. "Papa liking you will not prevent him shooting you if he suspects what you have just carried me upstairs to do."
George's smile deepened. He bent his head until his mouth brushed the corner of hers, barely touching, and Bella felt the heat rise into her face before he murmured, "And what exactly does your father suspect I have carried you upstairs to do?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, suddenly aware of his breath on her skin and the fact that they were quite, quite alone.
"Very wise, Princess."
He kissed her then, slowly at first, the teasing edge disappearing as his mouth settled languidly over hers.
Bella's fingers curled into the fabric of his coat and she leaned into him, feeling the steady warmth of his body against hers.
When he deepened the kiss, Bella rose onto her toes and wound her arms around his neck, smiling against his mouth when she felt him do the same.
There was something deliciously indulgent about being alone with him in the middle of the afternoon, hidden away in their own corner of Pemberley while the rest of the household went industriously about its business.
When George finally drew back, his forehead rested against hers and his breathing was no steadier than her own. "You know," he murmured, "I was attempting to learn about crop rotation before you began distracting me."
Bella opened her eyes and found him watching her with amusement. "You were staring at me too."
"I am your husband. I am permitted to look at my wife."
"What an extremely convenient interpretation of marriage."
"I find marriage has many, many conveniences, my love."
She laughed, but the sound caught when he lowered his mouth to the place beneath her ear that always set her body alight.
Bella's hands slipped into his hair, disturbing the neatness he had maintained all morning, and she felt the smile against her skin before he ran his tongue over the same spot again.
A shiver ran through her and she tightened her fingers in the soft blond strands.
"George," she said, and this time there was less accusation in it.
He lifted his head just enough to look at her. "Hmm?"
"I thought there was to be a punishment."
For one heartbeat he stared at her, then the wicked light returned to his eyes with such glee that Bella wondered whether she had made a tactical error.
"Oh, there is, Princess."
Her stomach fluttered pleasantly. "Should I be frightened?"
"Oh, terribly."
Bella smiled and caught hold of his cravat, using it to draw him back towards her. "Then I suppose you had better begin."
The door to Mr and Mrs Harwood's rooms remained firmly closed for the rest of the afternoon. When a maid came to ask whether they wished for tea, there was a long pause before George opened the door in his banyan, his hair in complete disarray.
By dinner they had both been restored to respectability.
Much later, when the house had gone quiet and Bella lay with her head against George's chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart, she thought of the girl who had once looked out across Pemberley and felt trapped by everything waiting for her there.
She had wanted freedom so desperately then, without really knowing what shape it ought to take.
George's arm tightened around her and she smiled into the darkness.
Perhaps freedom had never meant leaving Pemberley behind. Perhaps it had meant finding a life there that was truly her own, and someone she could not imagine living it without.