Chapter Seven #5
Obligingly, he did as she bade, and she responded as the ache melted away and the friction that replaced it became her focus.
Her back arched, giving him access to her deepest, most hidden spots.
Elizabeth’s voice rang holy, like the church bells they had each dreaded that very afternoon.
Her hands wandered about his body, drinking in the slick, hot texture of his flesh.
Finally, he pounded at her body in his ecstasy, finding his release deep inside her.
She had never seen such a moment in her life before, and it awed her.
After, as her body still hummed with energy, he placed his palm over her core, rubbing and stroking her into a frenzy.
Her headed seemed to empty out, like the ocean pulling away from the beach.
All she could feel was that hand stroking her, draining her mind, pulling reactions from her body that she did not know she could produce.
Her husband watched her body sag while she panted.
Languidly, she recovered, and he settled back onto a corner of the bed, giving her a few moments to gather herself.
“Husband?” She asked in the dim light of the barely burning fire.
“Elizabeth?”
“Pray, would ye add more coal to the fire?” Her voice was soft and timid and so very unlike her.
He did as she asked and returned to the bed, sitting on the corner again. Elizabeth propped her body up on her elbows and levelled her gaze in his direction.
“Does not the great Prince Darcy sleep?” Her lips turned up, but he did not seem to see what her pleasure meant. At his sudden detachment, Elizabeth's brow furrowed.
“I do,” he replied absently.
“Then think no more on what is on thy mind and come lie down. If ye passed last evening in any manner similar to mine, I am certain ye did not sleep. The morrow shall be as busy as today and we need our rest.”
She held out a hand to him, which he took, and pulled him towards her.
They fought the woollen blankets until they were both beneath them.
Elizabeth faced her scowling husband. Her stomach clenched when he remained on his back, staring up at the cloth of the canopy above their heads, as far away from her as could be.
Though she had no desire to love him, she had just shared her body with him and was bent towards forgiving.
Fear flashed through her that now that his quest to possess her was complete, he would cast her aside and never touch her again.
After the bliss she had experienced, Elizabeth was not certain she could spend the rest of her days not knowing it again.
“What troubles ye?” she asked tentatively.
“Nothing.”
“Did I not please ye?” she inquired after a moment. “Shall ye abandon me now that ye have had me?”
His face softened as his eyes finally focused on her. “Of course not! You pleased me a great deal and I find myself forming the belief that I may be in great danger of being unable to live without you. I am sorry, though, that I hurt you.”
“I told ye to think on it no more,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. He spoke with such tenderness, such sincerity that she could nearly take his words as truth and forget all the anger and hurt he had caused her. Nearly.
“I cannot help it.”
She sighed, her body still needing to be close to his, and grabbed the hand resting upon his hard, flat stomach to pull him onto his side. She wrapped herself in his embrace and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her lips inadvertently brushed his flesh for just a moment before she shifted again.
“The pain was but temporary, my lord, and as long as thy affections are not, I am thy willing wife. Ye have awakened a part of me that did not exist before this night. Pray let that mean as much to ye as it means to me. I am not easily won, nor am I made of stone.”
* * *
Darcy was shocked but made no protests and pressed a kiss onto the crown of her head. Her breath was warm and soon fell into a slow, steady rhythm against his chest as she was drawn into the deep sleep of one who is utterly exhausted. He pulled her closer before contemplating what he was doing.
His wife was in his arms. In one instant that word meant a great deal to him as his claiming of her body had meant a great deal to her.
She was more than a possession to be had, more than an amusement for his pleasure.
No, she was his princess, the woman he had chosen to rule by his side, to give him sons, nay, children.
All of a sudden, Darcy was shaken to come to the realization, with a mixture of horror, elation, and guilt, that she represented what had been ignored, forgotten, and locked away inside him for all these long years.
The creature in his arms, sleeping and still so innocent, was his heart.
For a moment, he scoffed at the idea, knowing that part of him had long been dead, indeed, his heart had become dark as the night.
But as she sighed in her sleep and put her small hand over his scarred chest, his full awareness of the truth became alive within him.
Yes, he had wanted to fuck her, and he had stopped at nothing to achieve that end, but he had not fucked her. He had fallen in love with her as he had made love to her. Feeling unworthy of the woman in his arms, Darcy choked down the bile that rose from deep inside.
“I shall try, Elizabeth. I shall try to be the man who deserves you. I shall be better for you.”