Lizzy shook her head. “You are mistaken, love. I have no fears whatsoever as to your competence as a father.” Darcy beamed, leaning forward to initiate his ritualistic conversation with his child, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.
He rose with a frown, tightening his robe as he walked to the door. Lizzy observed him, always delighting in his fine figure so perfectly displayed when robed. It was a servant delivering an envelope. “It is from the Sitwells,” he declared, handing the letter to Lizzy and promptly resuming his interrupted task.
Darcy spoke French endearments, Lizzy reading Julia Sitwell's letter with a giggle. “Julia insists we visit tomorrow afternoon and stay for dinner. She even enclosed a sketch map with noted interesting sights between here and there. She says Mr. Sitwell is already chalking his cue, determined to triumph over you.”
Darcy snorted. “Highly unlikely that. Rory has never been proficient at billiards. I taught him when we were at Cambridge, but he never readily grasped the game. His hand to eye coordination is horrendous. Now, give the man a deck of cards or dice and a genius emerges. His tactic is to mellow me by gracefully losing several billiard sets then roping me into faro and emptying my money clip.” He kissed above her navel, resting his cheek on her mound. “I shall ensure I have adequate funds on hand so our host will feel vindicated. Ah, there you are my son! He was being very sedate tonight.”
“Perhaps he did not recognize your voice in French. You confused his fragile mind.” Lizzy ran her fingers through Darcy's hair, smiling at the sweet vision of her husband's head lying on her abdomen, one hand gently stroking her belly.
“Pardonnez-moi, mon petit fils, mon enfant précieux. English hereafter, until you are older. Then, alas, you must learn French, and more.” He lifted slightly, peeling Lizzy's gown upward until bare flesh was revealed. He kissed her belly again, stroking and talking quietly. “How big do you think he is? Do you recall what the book said for the sixth month?” He glanced up at Lizzy, who shook her head.
“I believe it said a little over a pound. Still so small to cause me to swell so,” she finished with a frown.
Darcy raised a brow. “Are you concerned, beloved? You should not be, as you are beautiful. This”—he kissed her belly once more—“is beautiful. It is only for a short span of time, my heart, and then you shall be thin again.”
“How can you be so certain of that, William? Women's bodies do alter dramatically after childbirth, or so I am told.”
He rose, threading his way up her body until fully over her and caressing her face. “Not always, Elizabeth. My mother birthed three children and was as tiny as when a maiden. You have seen the portraits. Aunt Madeline is comely and she has birthed four. I imagine there are alterations. Subtle changes a husband would notice such as those stretches Uncle George spoke of. In the end, these marks are a part of aging and a God-given reminder of human travails and, in the case of childbirth, the miracles of motherhood and life.” He smiled into his wife's eyes and kissed her softly.
“All that being said,” he continued, “my love and desire for you is not based on the appearance of your body. That is not to say I do not adore your shape, your perfect breasts and lush bottom, and all points head to toe. However, it is your heart I love, my wife. Whatever the flesh encasing the soul, it is you I yearn for and need to survive. This will never diminish.”
He kissed her deeply, hand stroking down her side and pulling one leg over his waist. Breathlessly, lips near her ear, he resumed, “When I become aroused by you, my precious love, I am not thinking of your flesh, but of you. Who you are, how you love me and touch my soul. How your gorgeous eyes caress me and gaze with love upon me. How I am fulfilled by your presence in my life. How you have gifted me with your devotion and promises and commitment.”
He withdrew, fingering over her parted lips. “Elizabeth, my eternal love. Your body is rapturous to me not because it is perfection, but because it is yours. I fell in love with you ere I began imagining what figure hid under your clothing. Your luscious shape has exceeded my imaginings, but I know my love and passion for you would be as strong if you had eleven toes or a big birthmark or hairs on your chest or…”
Lizzy chuckled softly, halting him with a kiss. “Fitzwilliam,” she purred, delving deeply into his blue eyes that shone with pure love, “I love you.”
He smiled. “There is to what I refer. No one on this earth says my name so that I melt as heated wax while becoming hard as iron simultaneously. Only you, my Lizzy, now and forever.” He claimed her mouth with fervid passion yet caressed gently, robe opened as he joined with his wife in blissful harmony.
Lizzy sighed in happiness, his adoring professions coupled with the feel of him loving her bathing her in joy and reassurance. He moved slowly, caressing—always caressing—as he kissed her. Lizzy pulled the robe off his shoulder, gliding a hand over his back and hugging him closer. Traveling lips along his jaw to ear and shifting to encompass his body with all her limbs, Darcy moaned faintly as Lizzy whispered, “Fitzwilliam, how do you know precisely what to say to fill my heart and restore my confidence?”
He lifted his upper body so he could see her face, halting all movement momentarily, fingers fondling each feature and kissing tenderly. “I only speak the truth in my heart, Elizabeth. You have no reason to suffer negative emotions regarding my love for you and undying devotion, but I shall offer comfort and assurance every waking second if necessary.” He resumed his steady rhythm with a breathy growl. “Additionally, I shall make love to you endlessly and adoringly. My wife, my own love. So beautiful you are to me. Elizabeth,” he finished in a reverent whisper.
Grasping his face with a sudden burst of passionate enthusiasm, Lizzy pressed into his mouth, Darcy responding immediately. Never relenting in her kiss, Lizzy next attacked his robe, struggling to free his arms to her touch. Darcy attempted to assist yet refused to cease kissing or moving, the conjoint endeavor on the narrow sofa humorously spiraling.
They both began to giggle, the robe catching on his elbows so that when he tried to rise he began to sway off the couch. Desperately seeking a grip on something to correct his precarious perch and imbalance, he clutched the only thing at hand: her thigh. As a result, they both tumbled onto the floor in a heap, laughing hysterically.
His laughter, combined with the breath being knocked from his lungs as a result of hitting the hardwood floor and Lizzy's legs squashing his chest, had Darcy gasping. Laughing, Lizzy strived to right herself, silken robe and gown tangled about her legs.
At length she knelt beside her teary-eyed, wheezing spouse. “William? Are you all right? Oh my goodness, you look so ridiculous!” She dissolved in further giggles, bending to kiss his cheeks and reaching to disencumber him. His arms were trapped at odd angles under his body, robe askew and bunched bizarrely about his nakedness. She sat him up; his robe finally slipped from arms that he instantly threw about her waist with hands flattened on her back, pressing in for a thorough kiss. Still snickering, she captured his lower lip between her teeth and fondled his groin.