Chapter Ten #5
She grabbed a fistful of hair, pulling his mouth to hers, and kissed him hard and deep in an attempt to keep her alarm at bay. When he finally began to kiss her back, her body sagged against him, letting him gather her into a warm, solid embrace.
“Promise me one more thing,” she demanded.
“If it is mine to give, then you have my promise.”
“That you shall never let the thought of taking your own life become an action with consequence. I cannot bear the thought of you not being in this world with me.”
“I swear to you.” He found the dry bathing cloth that hung over the side of the tub and wiped at her tears with slow, careful strokes.
Then, he dipped the cloth into the water and squeezed the liquid over her shoulders.
She sagged, letting the tension of their argument melt away with the warm water.
Then the soap cake was in her hand, and she rubbed it over his broad chest slowly, creating a thick, white lather on his skin.
She handed it to him when she was done and he followed suit, soaping her skin with a tantalizing grace that made her insides ache with want.
Longing to touch him, she kneaded his soap-slicked skin, working at the taut muscles in his shoulders from her seat in his lap.
His head fell forward to her shoulder and, taking the cloth from him, she rinsed his skin clean. Her teeth caught his ear and nibbled lightly before pushing him back against the curve of the tub.
“You are clean, my lord William,” she whispered. “Though I am not sure how long it might last.”
She quickly rinsed the bubbles from her body and quit the tub, scampering out before he could grab her.
He rose, water falling off his form, and his magnificence stole her breath away.
He was so heartbreakingly beautiful. She stepped into his open arms as he came out of the bath.
Effortlessly, he lifted her up and carried her back to their bed where he laid her damp body in the middle of the linens.
He began at her toes, placing light kisses on the tips of each digit.
His hands stroked her legs, his touch so full of need she suspected it might suck the marrow from her very bones.
This was an expression of his heart; an expression of the love he dared not tell her about.
His tongue tickled her ankle, and her involuntary giggle sent a warm smile over his beautiful mouth.
Lifting her leg, his lips and tongue played with the delicate skin behind her knee.
“My bed is the only bed you shall ever have,” he whispered, crawling the length alongside her form. “My body is the only body you shall ever taste.”
“You, only you.”
He smiled slowly, reminding her for a moment of the lecherous scoundrel she had first met at the Assembly. Slowly rolling her nipples between his fingers, he teased her core with his tip then withdrew from her completely.
“William,” she cried. “Pray, do not. . .”
He took her hand and placed it on his length.
He pulsed and throbbed beneath the tips of her fingers and she was driven to stroke him, feeling every inch of the soft, hot flesh.
His body began to shake as her hand worked him with growing speed.
He was near his release and opened her legs and leaned back into the bed.
When they finished, Elizabeth gathered him to her breast, kissed his forehead, and disappeared from the bed. She was back before he opened his eyes.
“Where did you go?”
“I ordered fresh bath water.”
“What if I do not care to wash the scent of you from my skin?”
“Then I suppose,” she said as she pushed him back, “that I shall have to fuck you so often that my scent simply never leaves.”
Later, when they were sated and bathed, Elizabeth joined her husband at the door of their chamber. She beamed when he gathered her up and swirled her around happily. Laying her hand to his cheek, she kissed his mouth, delighting in the fact that he was hers.
Her smile suddenly faded, and her eyes grew wide.
“What is wrong?” he asked, his forehead creased.
“We spent a lot of time together this morning.”
“So we did.”
“What if we made a baby?”
He hugged her tightly. “Then I shall have another reason to live.”
“Even if it would be a girl.”
“Especially if it would be a girl with her mother's eyes.”
“And her Papa's bravado,” Elizabeth replied dryly.
He kissed her eyes and mouth as she laughed. “You would bless me with a child?”
“Is that not my sole purpose in life?” She asked, her eyebrow cocked.
He chuckled. “I suppose some people would expect it to be.”
“I would gladly give you as many children as my body would allow provided you swear one thing.”
“And what would that be, my sweet wife?”
“That you bounce them on your knee while you sit in that obnoxiously large chair below stairs.”
“You hate that chair with some might, do you not?”
“Only because mine seems so very small next to it. It is hardly fair.”
He grinned, kissing her again. “I would bounce babies galore if you were their mother.”
“I shall hold you to that, my lord William. If we made a baby today, a beautiful baby boy with black curls, you shall be bouncing by early spring. What a sight! Fearsome High Lord Darcy with a wailing infant and a cruel wife.”
“A cruel wife?”
“Yes, for refusing to take the child from you while you hear court and take tribute. For leaving on tours while you remain at home. For deciding to never let you touch me again after the pain of childbirth.”
“So, you plan on becoming my mother then?”
She cocked her head in consideration, laughing when he kissed her playfully.
Her arms locked around his neck. “I have no fear of giving you children. You are a good man, if not a little coarse and a touch spoiled, but a good man. I think a child would bring out the best in you, show you who you truly are.”
“I have found somebody who brings out the best in me. I hold her in my arms at this very moment and pray she is carrying a child that will not only join us always but be a reminder of the day my wife called me by my name.”
Her face softened and her bottom lip quivered, but he only beamed at her.
“My beautiful, sweet princess,” he whispered.
“My handsome, abhorrent prince,” she teased, kissing the tip of his nose.
Laughing, he finally sat her down, opened the door, and let her walk out.
And, for the first time, Elizabeth entered the Hall on Darcy's elbow, the High Lord's face set into its usual dour mask but for the brightness of his eyes.
The High Lady's appled cheeks set tongues wagging immediately, especially once they saw the neat blue silk-trimmed plait trailing down Darcy's back, the same silk embroidered into all of the High Lady's kerchiefs.
The Prince and Princess of Pemberley had finally, it seemed, made amends.