Lizzy handed him her present, wrapped with silk and a blue ribbon the color of his eyes. Darcy opened it gradually, theatrically adding to the tension. Inside was a book: Paradise Lost by John Milton.
“It is the first edition volume,” Lizzy said. “You said you had been searching for that one.”
Darcy was stunned. “Elizabeth, I cannot believe you remember that! I said it in passing when you were at Pemberley, when I showed you the library.”
“I vividly remember every moment and every word of that day,” she said softly, touching his cheek gently with her fingertips. Neither of them noticed that Jane and Bingley arose and crept silently from the room.
He captured her hand and kissed it, then leaned over and kissed her lips. “You are amazing,” he breathed. “I love you so, my Elizabeth. How did you ever find it?”
She laughed. “My father has connections. He is forever adding old books to his collection. He is acquainted with a man at Oxford who specializes in finding unusual volumes. He had three Milton first editions! Open it, there is more.”
Darcy was unsure if his heart could take any more, but he complied. Inside was a bookmark of fine silk with a quilted backing. Lizzy had embroidered in her delicate hand a verse from Genesis: “The two shall become one flesh.” Below were two hearts intertwined with Elizabeth in one and Fitzwilliam in the other.
To say that Darcy was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement. Tears welled up in his eyes and he could not speak. He gathered Lizzy into a tight embrace and simply held her, hoping that his wildly beating heart would express his thankfulness. He finally withdrew, gazing into her eyes with bottomless devotion, and then kissed her with reckless abandon. His soul was fiercely touched. She responded in kind, fingers instantly rising to caress the flesh above his cravat and lace into thick hair as their kiss deepened to a dangerous level. Neither of them wanted to stop, and it took a monumental act of strength to do so.
Darcy cupped her face with both large hands, eyes closed and forehead resting on hers as he attempted to regulate his erratic breathing. “God, Elizabeth! How I want you! How desperately I love you!”
“Two weeks,” she murmured, “just two more weeks, my heart.”
He chuckled harshly and opened his eyes to see her glorious face so near his own. “It feels like an eternity.” He met her lips in a tender, controlled kiss. “Elizabeth, my precious love, this has been the very best birthday of my entire life. How can I ever thank you?”
She smiled naughtily. “Well, my birthday will be here in six months. You can start planning now!” They both laughed and the jocularity lightened the mood. After another brief kiss, they recalled Jane and Charles, who had managed to take advantage of their alone time in like pursuits.
More hot cocoa was served, and then it was time to blow out the candle and have some cake. Darcy made his silent wish, glowing eyes locked with his fiancée's, and cut the cake, performing the honored task of serving the others. All too soon it was time to return the ladies to Longbourn.
Some weeks after, Lizzy and Darcy were in their bed at Pemberley lying in each other's arms. They were in the satisfied haze of post lovemaking, Lizzy gently caressing his chest while Darcy played with her hair. Out of the blue Lizzy spoke. “William? What was your wish when you blew out your birthday candle?”
“I wished that I would forever be as happy as I was at that moment.”
“Has your wish come true, then?”
“No.”
She rose up on her elbow to see his face. “No? Are you not happy?”
He smiled at her troubled face and caressed her cheek. “I wished to be as happy as I was at that moment. Fool that I was, I had no concept of the greater happiness in store for me.” He pulled her face to his but paused just before kissing her, whispering softly, “The ecstasy I feel for you now, my heart, is beyond mere happiness.”
He would proceed to show her precisely what he meant, then and every day for the rest of his long life. Never would he forget his twenty-ninth birthday even though Elizabeth made a point of having a special celebration each year thereafter, and the plotting wheels had begun turning for her birthday some six months yet away.
Chapter Eight
Happy Birthday, Mrs. Darcy
Now it was the day he had been, on some level, planning for ever since. May 28, 1817, marked the day that Elizabeth Darcy turned two and twenty. By a merry, inadvertent twist of fate, it also was the sixth month anniversary of her marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy. Neither fact was lost on her husband. In all honesty, it would be a stretch to say he had been plotting birthday events for his beloved wife since she had so delightfully surprised him on his birthday in November, but he most assuredly had devoted a tremendous amount of time and effort in the hopes of this day being one of the best in her life.
Of course all days, no matter the celebrations devised, usually commence with little or no fanfare. Such was the case today. Darcy woke shortly after dawn, nothing atypical in that fact, the filtered sunrise and muted street sounds drifting through the curtained glass windows. Lizzy slept curled on her side in his arms, their fingers entwined under the pillow, thick hair cascading randomly over their tightly pressed together bodies. Darcy's free hand cupped one perfect breast, and again not atypical, he was profoundly aroused.
He shifted somewhat to relieve the mild discomfort, kissed her head, and closed his eyes. Darcy was rarely able to return to sleep, but he did adore these quiet interludes of simply embracing his wife. He lay in extreme contentment while mentally reexamining the day's plans for any possible missteps.
After six blissful months of waking with his adorable wife, Darcy had subconsciously learned the subtle signs of her rousing. The mild change in the cadence of her respirations, the tiny twitches in her muscles, the minute movements to lips and eyelids, and how she instinctively pressed harder into his body and clutched his fingers. How they lay enmeshed in their sleep varied from night to night, but always they reached for the other even further as they roused. So it was that some forty-five minutes after initially opening his eyes, he sensed her stirring. Unable to contain his need any longer, he gently commenced fondling her beautiful bosom while tenderly planting kisses along her neck.
She sighed, smiling sleepily. “Happy birthday, my beloved wife,” he whispered while kissing her ear. “Are you feeling well?”
“Hmmmm, quite well.”
“Well enough for me, my lover?” He waited no longer, beginning the familiar process of loving his wife. Not even bothering to shift positions, he joined blissfully with his wife as they lay with her luscious curves pressed tightly into his chest. Groaning hoarsely in transcendent pleasure he murmured, “Oh, my adorable wife, how I love you! Your first present for the day shall be your devoted husband bringing you pleasures abounding.”
Lizzy immediately reciprocated with a throaty groan, her free arm reaching to lace her fingers through his hair as she arched in intense yearning.
“Fitzwilliam, you feel so amazing. God, how I love you!”
He threw the blanket off, thrilling further at the sight of their bodies joined and swaying together. Burying his face into her fragrant locks, he moaned her name. Oh, to wake and make love with his wife! It was divine.