Chapter 1.25 #5
“Despite Wickham’s statement, I cannot say I am a friend of the Hothfields but more a close acquaintance.
I have met them only three or four times in the last three years, and each time I was happy to be in their company.
However, last summer their happiness was put to a most difficult trial: Lady Hothfield gave birth to a child, but the boy survived only two days.
I confess that I suffered for them as I would have for a member of my own family.
And one morning at the club, while I was having breakfast with the colonel, we heard Lord Felton talking with other gentlemen.
In short, his opinion was that the child’s death was a blessing as he surely was not Lord Hothfield’s child, and he was wagering as to who the real father might have been. ”
“Dear God, how can a man be so horrible?” Elizabeth’s eyes were full of tears, and he gently stroked her cheek.
“I am sorry to pain you, my love. I told you the story was not a pleasant one, but I shall finish it shortly. Lord Felton’s insinuations were clearly intended to offend me, but nobody understood their meaning except me.
However, before I could do or say anything, Colonel Fitzwilliam reacted quite violently as he considered the Hothfields close and dear to his family.
His behaviour provoked a real scandal, which only spread further rumours and caused more pain and grief to Lord and Lady Hothfield.
Lady Ellen was angry with Robert for his foolish reaction.
That was why I avoided any conversation on the subject last night when Mr Wickham mentioned their names, no doubt intentionally to force a response from me. ”
By the time he had finished his story, Elizabeth’s hands were trembling from the emotion that overwhelmed her.
Everything was so completely different than she had expected; she could do nothing but stare at him, her eyes still wet with tears.
She whispered, “William…” and then stopped, as further words stuck in her throat.
His arm encircled her shoulders, and he pulled her to his chest, his lips gently touching her hair. “Elizabeth, let us not discuss our disagreement further, shall we? As you said, neither of us was without fault, and we reacted passionately and impulsively.”
“It was I who reacted impulsively. I must say I learned a very difficult lesson today. I shall never presume anything nor shall I doubt you again before asking for the truth. I am grateful for your generosity in sharing the blame with me and forgiving me.”
Impetuously, before she had time to notice his gesture and even less to guess his intention, his arms lifted her up and—shockingly—she found herself in his lap. She gasped loudly, staring at him in astonishment.
“Well, it is good to know that but hardly believable, Elizabeth; apparently, you have not learned your lesson well enough.” His voice was deep and husky, and for a moment, she worried that he was still upset.
“You have already presumed that I have actually forgiven you, which I have not. Quite the contrary, I am adding this offence to the one from the Gardiners’ house when you implied I would not invite them to the ball.”
“Oh…” Her mouth rounded, her lips suddenly dry, as she saw the glint in his eye and began to understand his meaning.
“Ah, so you do remember! I am glad. Because I must warn you, I am still determining the proper compensation for such undeserved insults. I really doubt that any other lady would vex her future husband so greatly, especially when his value is ten thousand a year! I intend to complain seriously to my future mother-in-law as soon as we return to Hertfordshire, unless you can persuade me to change my mind.”
“I beg your forgiveness, sir. I am afraid your kindness has deeply affected my behaviour. I shall try most diligently to improve myself in this regard, for I never would want to merit complaint.”
Every moment that passed raised her spirits, all her previous fears vanishing under the spell of his unspoken profession of love and desire, and she readily entered into his little—but dangerous—game of words.
From her new position, she experienced more daring than she had previously.
The novelty of having her face at the same level as his was thrilling, as her hands encircled his neck and toyed with the curls on his neck.
As soon as she was quiet, he felt his face covered by light, delicious kisses, her soft lips tracing their way from his forehead down to the line of his jaw.
He closed his eyes, allowing the exquisite sensation to wrap him until her lips finally reached his and pressed tenderly against them, a tenderness soon dominated by a passionate urge.
Impudently, she pulled him down until he lay on the bed; a moment later, his hands and long legs encircled her, trapping her in a breathtaking embrace. Their mouths were not just kissing but also fighting to possess each other, their tongues dancing together with ever-growing passion.
Her hands daringly slid inside his waistcoat and stroked his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt; he moaned deeply, whispering her name, and his moan grew dangerously louder a moment later when her fingers, greedily, possessively, and shamelessly, found their way under his shirt and touched the bare skin of his back.
“Oh God, Elizabeth…”
The shock was equally strong for her, and for a moment she stopped breathing—only to start again, her heart beating more wildly, a moment later.
For the first time, her caresses were more daring, passionate, and possessive than his.
Her hunger for him seemed more ravenous. She could feel it; he could feel it.
It was not a mere search for pleasure, but a consuming need for the assurance that he belonged to her and only to her, that the place in his arms—and in his heart—was only for her. She wanted to take everything he could give her and offer herself to him—completely.
Her body ached with desire for his touch, and she barely suppressed a scream of delight when his legs that already encircled her pulled her closer between his thighs, rubbing her against him.
She could feel him pressing almost painfully, though astonishingly pleasurably, against her.
Her body—her hips—shattered in response, trembling but not able to move in the grip of his legs.
Her hands—the only part of her that was free—frenetically stroked his chest, now completely uncovered by his opened shirt, strong and warm under her exploring fingers.
She did scream though—fortunately not very loudly, as her mouth was imprisoned by his—when his hands cupped her breasts as he never had before.
His fingers began a sweet, maddening torture through the fabric of her gown, caressing their soft fullness until she thought she could not bear it any longer—but she was wrong.
Reluctant to abandon the sweetness of her lips, his mouth traced a warm path from her chin down to her throat and along the line of her neck, touching her, tasting her, trying to satisfy his appetite with the savour of her skin until he reached the edge of her gown; he did not stop there—not this time.
His left hand released the soft roundness of her breast, allowing his mouth to appease its desire.
The touch of his lips burned her through the thin muslin until she was forced to bite her lips so as not to cry out again—but her violent trembling she could not control.
However, his hunger only grew—disappointed, unsatisfied, and frustrated by the fabric that kept his lips from their goal. With little thought, his free hand pulled the offending garments from her shoulder, and he heard her whispered entreaty, “William, please…”
His hand remained still on her shoulder, the other still cupping her breast, and he lifted his eyes to meet hers. His lips returned to her face, touched her cheek, and then rested near her ear, whispering, “What is it you wish, my love?”
Her body was still trapped between his legs, his hand lying where her heart was beating, his thumb never ceasing its torturous stroke. It was difficult to speak; she did not want to speak. She wanted…“I wish you to… Please do not stop. I do not want you to stop.”
It was more than an acceptance—more than an invitation—it was pleading. All her previous resolution eluded her, and she closed her eyes, waiting—hoping—for what would come next. She felt him stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers, and his lips whispered in the hollow of her ear.
“My beautiful, passionate Elizabeth…” Nothing more.
His legs slowly released their grip around her, and his hand lifted her gown back onto her shoulder; she opened her eyes to stare at him, her disappointment so obvious that he could not help smiling and kissing the corner of her mouth tenderly.
He adjusted their position so they were lying beside each other, his arms embracing her again as he pulled together his unbuttoned shirt.
Gently, he moved her head to cradle on his chest, her hair—now escaped from their pins—tickling his bare neck.
He felt her stiffen in his embrace, and as his fingers caressed the line of her jaw, she lifted her face, revealing her wondering gaze.
He saw passion—unfulfilled passion—in her eyes, mixed with hurt feelings.
“Elizabeth…if you knew…really knew…how strongly I desire to love you—here, now, and for the rest of my life—you would be frightened. I am frightened, and I struggle to protect you. But your wonderful, generous offer only makes my struggle more difficult. It is sheer torture that I can hardly bear.”