Chapter 16
DARCY
Three nights after the rain, Elizabeth opened the door again.
This time, she carried a candle.
I stood at the window in my shirt and trousers, unable to sleep. The light behind her outlined her silhouette through the thin fabric of her nightgown. My breath caught before she even spoke.
“I want to stay with you tonight,” she said.
I did not move.
I had imagined this moment with too much fervor to trust it now that it was finally here.
“Elizabeth.”
“I know what I’m saying.”
“Do you know what it entails?”
She set the candle on the dresser.
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
Even at this moment, she still found a way to provoke me. I loved her all the more for it.
“A pregnancy is possible as early as tonight.”
Her levity disappeared.
“I know.”
“I will do everything in my power to protect you and any child. But I cannot promise to prevent that risk.”
“I’m not asking you to prevent it.”
“The first time may be uncomfortable. I will stop if you ask me to, even after we’ve begun.”
“I know that too.”
“You have no obligation.”
She came to me.
“Fitzwilliam, if you list one more reason to send me away, I’m going to believe you no longer desire me.”
An incredulous laugh escaped me.
I took her hand and placed it on me, against the hardness my trousers did not conceal.
She drew in a sharp breath.
“Is that a sufficient answer?”
Her fingers curled around me with cautious curiosity. I had to grip the edge of the dresser.
“You’re…”
“Yes.”
“I hadn’t understood that…”
“Elizabeth.”
“Yes?”
“If you continue, my patience will reach its limit very quickly.”
A mischievous gleam flickered in her eyes.
“That would be regrettable after so much effort.”
I lifted her in my arms.
She gave a small cry and clung to my neck.
“You’re taking advantage of your strength again.”
“Entirely.”
I set her at the edge of the bed, then knelt to remove her slippers. Her feet were bare. I pressed my lips to her ankle.
“Fitzwilliam.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have to proceed with religious solemnity.”
“I married you without understanding what I was receiving. Allow me to do better tonight.”
Her expression softened.
I rose and took her face in my hands.
“I’m going to ask you one thing, and never again this night.”
“Ask.”
“That you remain able to send me away until the very last moment.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I will know you have chosen me three times.”
“Yes.”
I kissed her.
All the restraint of the preceding weeks shattered in that kiss. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around my neck, pressed against me, met my tongue with a boldness that held no trace of hesitation. I felt her breasts against my chest, her hips against mine, and my desire became almost painful.
I laid her on the bed without breaking the kiss.
The nightgown still covered her body. I slid my hands from her ankles to her calves, then beneath the fabric to her knees.
“The ribbon,” she murmured.
I looked up.
Her fingers touched the bow above her chest.
“You can undo it.”
I did so slowly.
The neckline loosened. I pushed the fabric over her shoulders, uncovering the skin I had only caressed through muslin. Her breasts came into view in the candlelight, full, delicate, the peaks already hardened.
I remained still.
“You told me I was magnificent when you could see almost nothing,” she murmured. “What will you say now?”
“Nothing you could hear without blushing.”
She smiled, but her smile melted into a gasp when I cupped her breast.
The sensation of her bare skin against my palm surpassed anything I'd dreamed. I caressed the curve, traced the taut peak with my thumb, then leaned down to take it in my mouth.
Elizabeth arched.
Her hands buried in my hair.
I tasted her slowly, alternating tongue and lips until her breathing became soft moans. I moved to the other breast, refusing to neglect the slightest tremor.
“I understand why you were dreaming,” she breathed.
“My dreams fell short.”
“Fell short?”
“Reality is far worse for my self-control.”
She laughed, then the laugh broke off when my hand slid between her legs.
I found the warmth I'd discovered in the gatehouse. She was wet before I even touched her.
“You wanted me already?” I asked, unable to hold back the question.
Her eyes opened.
“Did you doubt it?”
The absurd jealousy hidden in my words dissolved.
I caressed her until her hips followed my fingers. This time, I wasn't content just to watch. I moved down her body, kissed her belly, then pushed the chemise higher.
She propped herself on her elbows.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to know you this way.”
Color flooded her face.
“There?”
“Yes.”
“Is that… usual?”
“I don't care what other couples do. I only want to know what pleases you.”
She hesitated. I pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.
“Tell me if you want this.”
She held my gaze.
Her legs trembled beneath my hands.
“I want to know.”
I parted them gently and lowered my mouth to her.
Her cry was louder than in the gatehouse. Her thighs clamped shut by reflex; I stopped immediately and raised my head.
“Continue,” she breathed, loosening her legs. I resumed only when she drew me back to her. I discovered each reaction: the way her fingers clutched the sheets, her breath catching, the tension in her thighs as she neared release. I wanted her to forget any notion of duty.
She spoke my name.
That was all I needed.
I continued until she shattered beneath my mouth, her back arched, her hands clenched in my hair. Her pleasure surged through me with a force that made my own almost unbearable.
When I moved back up to her, her eyes were moist, her face open in a way I'd never seen.
“Are you all right?”
“I'm not sure I know what that means anymore.”
I smiled and kissed her.
She tasted herself on my lips. Surprise flickered in her eyes, then she deepened the kiss instead of turning away.
Her hands found my shirt.
“Let me explore you now.”
She undid the buttons with clumsy impatience. I removed the garment. Her gaze traveled over my chest, bolder than in the gatehouse.
“You're very handsome,” she breathed.
I had never cared about that compliment before. From her lips, it became precious.
She placed her hands on my shoulders, moved down to my chest, my stomach. I helped her open my trousers when her fingers hesitated.
My cock sprang free, hard between us.
Elizabeth remained silent.
“You can change your mind,” I reminded her.
“I'm only wondering how this can possibly fit.”
Despite my desire, I laughed.
“With care.”
She reached out. Her fingers brushed me.
I closed my eyes.
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
She wrapped her hand around me more firmly. A groan escaped me.
“Don't hold back,” she murmured.
“It's entirely your fault.”
She began a hesitant movement. I placed my hand over hers to show her the rhythm, then stopped her before pleasure carried me away.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because I want to be inside you before I lose all control.”
Her lips parted.
I removed the rest of my clothes, then her chemise. She lay naked beneath me.
I let myself look at her.
She moved to cover her breasts with her arms. I placed a hand on her forearm without holding it there.
“Don’t hide from my eyes for fear of what I might see.”
She hesitated, then lowered her arms on her own. Her eyes found mine again.
The trust in that gesture eased the last of my tension.
I settled between her legs and braced myself on one arm. With my free hand, I touched her again to be sure she was ready.
I guided myself against her.
The heat of that contact drew the same sharp breath from both of us.
“Slowly,” she murmured.
“Always.”
I entered gradually, watching her face. She tensed when I met resistance.
I stopped.
“A little painful,” she admitted.
I held still while she caught her breath. Her hands slid over my back—not to push me away, but to keep me close.
“A little more,” she murmured.
I pushed gently. The resistance gave way. She moaned, and her fingers dug into my shoulders.
I stayed deep inside her, my body flooded with a sensation so perfect it threatened my sanity.
“The truth, Elizabeth.”
“It burns. And you’re… very present.”
A strangled laugh escaped me.
“I can pull out.”
She tightened her legs around me.
“No. Just wait.”
I waited until I felt her body relax around mine. Then I began to move, achingly slow.
The first movements were awkward. She sought my rhythm, lost it, then found it again. The discomfort didn’t disappear entirely, but the pleasure I’d given her earlier had left her body sensitive to every touch.
I slipped a hand between us. She drew a surprised breath.
“Again?”
“Only if you want.”
She guided my fingers herself.
I stroked her as my movements deepened. Her pleasure built again, different from before—less sharp, mingled with the discomfort and the emotion of having me inside her.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured.
I held on as long as I could. When her breath broke against my neck, I finally lost control and came inside her with her name on my lips.
We lay still, panting.
I shifted to the side and kept her against me.
“I didn’t reach the same peak,” she said after a moment, with that frankness that left me nowhere to hide.
Shame washed through me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? I felt pleasure. I felt a little pain. I also felt like I knew you in a way I never could through all our conversations.”
She placed her hand over my heart.
“It wasn’t perfect.”
“No.”
“It was ours.”
I closed my eyes and kissed her hair.
She fell asleep against me shortly after. I stayed awake holding her, grateful for what she had chosen, yet still unable to ask if her heart had followed her body.
For the first time, I feared the answer more than the silence.