“You are back!” she said happily. “Is everything all right?”
He bent down and kissed her lips. “Yes, it is now,” he replied. “One of my best broodmares was having a difficult birth. The foal survived, one of Parsifal’s many offspring, as a matter of fact. The mare, however, had to be put down. I hate having to do it, but on occasion it cannot be avoided.” He sighed sadly.
“I am sorry, William. I know how much your horses mean to you.”
“Thank you, my love. It is disturbing, but one of the unfortunate occurrences when one breeds horses, or any animal for that matter.” He shook his head. “Anyway, it’s done now. Why are you out here, Elizabeth? It’s quite cold.”
“Enjoying the view while I waited for you.” For a time they remained silent, both enjoying the breathtaking scenery. Elizabeth unconsciously began caressing his leg.
He looked down at her. “You are still wearing the pearls,” he noticed.
She smiled winsomely. “I like them. I thought you might enjoy seeing me wear them… and only them.”
He smiled one of his devastating smiles, glanced away briefly, and then sat beside her with long legs stretched on the opposite side from hers. He clasped her cool hands within his warm palms, and said, with his voice low and husky, “How are you faring this evening, my dearest?”
“Excellent, especially now that you are back with me.” She smiled, fingers interlacing with his and caressing tenderly. “It is so beautiful here, William. I feel at home already.”
“You are home, Mrs. Darcy. Forever Pemberley shall be where you belong.”
“I love hearing you call me ‘Mrs. Darcy.’ You say it with such tenderness and happiness.”
He laughed softly, his eyes sparkling. Reaching to feather strokes over one soft cheek, he whispered, “I am happy. Happier than I have ever been, and it is all due to your presence in my life, Mrs. Darcy.” He shook his head slightly. “I shall never tire of calling you such.” He leaned forward, kissing her nose lightly. “Always, eternally, my Mrs. Darcy.”
Lizzy exhaled a gentle laugh, closing her eyes and basking in the feel of his breath and warmth so near her face. Every sense was assaulted, tingling and alive as he bestowed tiny kisses on every feature, interspersing them with breathy endearments.
He paused and their eyes met. Her lips were parted and her breathing uneven, awaiting the pressure of his mouth upon hers. Surely she would die if he did not kiss her soon! He stroked her chin with his thumb, adoring the perfection of her face.
“Mrs. Darcy,” he whispered, so soft as to be almost inaudible, as with deliberate patience he slowly approached her mouth, kissing her with a nearly imperceptible touch. He lingered, lips feathering hers, taunting her with languid restraint. She pressed into him but he retreated slightly, maintaining a gentle pressure and movement on her mouth. She moaned and he smiled against her lips, delighting in the ability to inflame her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him to her while at the same time arching toward his chest.
Darcy committed all his energy to the pleasurable task of kissing his wife. He could feel the cold of the winter air seeping into him, but his lips were on fire. Her taste and moisture and warmth spread from his mouth to his heart and his soul. He teased her, evading her insistence, as he played with her sweet lips. He captured her upper lip and then her lower, tenderly sucking with his lips and then nipping slightly with his teeth. After a time he ever so lightly ran the tip of his tongue over her lower lip.
Lizzy’s hands had stilled in his hair, all her focus on the racing torrents of delight his mouth inspired. She had always adored his kisses and the sensations they stimulated, but this was altogether different. She moaned and sighed, heart beating erratically, yet she was paralyzed with the need to consign total attention to what he was doing to her. She was dizzy.
For what seemed like hours, he toyed with her, vacillating between faint maneuvers and enthusiastic provocations. His right hand continually stroked her jaw and cheek while his left tangled in her glistening hair, firmly clasping her head and neck to him. He probed every plane of her mouth—teeth, palate, inner lips, and cheeks—exploring leisurely and thoroughly. In a sudden burst of possessive passion, he groaned boomingly from deep in his chest and crushed her body to his chest, intensifying the kiss beyond description.
Eventually he pulled away, meeting her eyes with a burning stare. “Mrs. Darcy,” he croaked hoarsely, “my love, my wife. I so adore you!” He stood, bringing her with him, and then swept her into his arms. She buried her face into his neck, kissing softly.
Instead of laying her onto the bed as she expected, he stood her on her feet next to it. “Stay here,” he commanded. He crossed back to the door, latching it securely and pulling the curtains. Then he stoked the fire, adding another log to dispel the cold. Turning back to her, he walked slowly, stripping his shirt and tossing it randomly aside. “If Samuel knew how often my clothes have fallen to the floor in the past days, he would likely resign his post,” Darcy joked as he reached her.
Lizzy barely registered his words, so caught was she by the sight of him. She required no prior comparison to know with certainty that her husband’s figure was beyond gorgeous. His chest was broad with straight shoulders and defined muscles. Dark, thick hair lightly blanketed his upper torso, gathering densely over his sternum before trailing in a finger-width path down the solid planes of his abdomen to his groin. The bulging muscles of his arms and legs further aroused her. He was so brawny, so virile, and so utterly male. It intoxicated her. Like a magnet her hands moved to caress his milky skin, eyes windows to her devotion and craving.
Darcy was still, observing her with escalating ardency and satisfaction. He was not an egotistical man by nature. His frame was what it was, and he never gave significance to it. As long as his clothing fit well and he was lean and healthy, he was content. He certainly had been told he was handsome on many occasions, yet had assumed it was more a response to his wealth and station. No woman had ever seen his unclothed flesh, so he truly had not known what to anticipate. In these past two days of loving his wife and monitoring her reactions, he had recognized that her entrancement with his body was as profound as his was with hers. The surge of pride he felt was as much for his own ego as for his wish to please her.
Lizzy looked into his intense blue eyes and smiled shyly, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks as she continued her tactile investigation of his chest. “You endlessly chronicle how beautiful you find me,” she said quietly. “I have been too bashful to verbalize the same.” She paused as she stepped closer, holding his eyes with hers. “You are… stunning, Fitzwilliam. Hard and yet tender. Graceful and powerful. So invigorating, breathtakingly handsome and desirable to me. I love your heart and your soul, and will for all eternity, no matter what your appearance. However, I cannot deny the awesome effect your physical being has on my senses.” She finished her earnest speech by wrapping her arms about his waist, hands pressing into his back as she squeezed herself against him, hungrily seeking his mouth.
“My Lizzy,” he breathed as he kissed her. He held her tightly to him, caressing her back through her gown. His hands roamed all over her, removing his robe from her shoulders first, then slowly peeling the gauzy gown up and over her head as he stroked her satiny flesh. She shivered with delight, fire and ice piercing each nerve ending he touched.
He picked her up then, carrying her to their bed. “Elizabeth, my darling wife,” he whispered as he kissed the sensitive flesh behind her ear, “You are utterly miraculous, enthralling, bewitching, and so incredibly sensuous. You drive me wild with desire!”