She settled herself between his legs, back tight against his chest. He entwined his legs with hers and hugged her close, one arm over her shoulders with a hand resting between her breasts. He kissed the top of her head and told her he loved her. Lizzy could honestly say she had never been happier in her entire life. He began reading aloud and his melodic voice soothed her.
Darcy became aware that his wife had fallen asleep when he asked her a question and she remained silent. “Elizabeth?” he whispered, but there was no response. It was not precisely the ending to the evening he had envisioned, yet oddly the fulfillment of having his wife’s warm body in his arms was intensely gratifying in its own way. He held her for a long time, until the fire had died to embers, listening to her breathe and feeling her vitality. Carefully as not to wake her, he carried her to their bed. He stretched out beside her, marveling how even in her sleep she came to him, nestling close.
Chapter Eight
An Anniversary
The next several days passed in much the same manner. Lizzy and Darcy were together almost twenty-four hours a day, and they were incredibly blissful.
While they lounged in bed on their second morning at Pemberley, their fourth day of marriage, Lizzy confessed with some embarrassment her actions the previous morning when she had awoken without him by her side. He laughed out loud, which she considered blatantly unfair.
“Forgive me, beloved; however, I had this vision of you running through the halls in your nightgown. I venture to speculate that any fright I might have given poor Marguerite yesterday would pale in comparison to the panic amongst the house staff at that sight!”
“You beast!” and she hit him with a pillow, which led to him grasping her wrists to stop her, which lead to them kissing several times. When she came up for air, she continued the topic. “I was going to apologize for accidentally pushing you into the doorway yesterday, but now that I think of it, it was your entire fault anyway, so I shall not.”
“How do you reason it was my fault?”
“You should never have left me in the first place!” she declared with a pout. “You have set the standard, Mr. Darcy, by being entirely too wonderful, so your desertion was an overwhelming shock. My feeble wits could not handle it and I acted precipitously. Your bruises are therefore the penalty for your cruelty. Nonetheless, I shall be magnanimous and will even kiss your aches away. Turn over,” she commanded.
She actually was surprised and remorseful to note a small bruise over his mid-spine, which she dutifully kissed. However, she was more taken at the pleasing sight of her husband’s backside. Using all the strength she could muster, she massaged his shoulders, back, and derriere. Darcy moaned with pleasure, his eyes closed. Elizabeth, for being so delicate, had incredibly strong hands.
As expected, her innocent conduct eventually took on a decidedly sensual flavor. She straddled him at his waist, sitting on his bottom, directing her attentions first to his shoulders, massaging as hard as she could. He tried to caress her knees but she slapped him and told him to behave, earning a chuckle. For thirty or so minutes, she diligently applied herself to kneading and manipulating every muscle. Darcy slipped into a daze of relaxing euphoria, unaware, for a time, of Elizabeth’s presence. That was until she scooted off his bottom to his legs and began squeezing his rump and thighs. Her strokes gradually turned from firm and deep to soft and caressing. She traveled over and under his hips, down outer and up inner thighs. His breathing changed from deep and relaxed to sharp and fitful.
He rumbled her name deep in his throat, begging, and she ceased, lying fully onto his back and kissing the nape of his neck as she ran her fingers through his hair, before meeting seeking lips as she rolled off. Darcy gathered her into his arms, passionately kissing her with a ravenous hunger. He pulled away and met her eyes, those beautiful eyes that had intrigued and captivated him almost from the first moment he saw her in Meryton.
“What you do to me, love. So beautiful… exciting… precious. My wife, my only love, my soul.” His endearments and declarations were incessant as he kissed her eyes, lips, nose, cheeks, chin, and neck. They made love slowly initially, quickening as their mutual passion grew.
Darcy whispered words and phrases of love in a pattern that would become very familiar. Like a dam overflowing, words poured from his lips, verbalizing his emotions and burning need. “God, love… I never dreamed loving you would be so… spectacular, exhilarating! Your skin… like silk… your hands, Oh Lord, your hands, Lizzy!… touching my skin… it is electric, flames… burning my flesh… shivers through me…” He moaned hoarsely, voice low and grating. “Your scent… I am delirious… your moans and sighs of pleasure… for me… my love… mine always… only!”
The pace accelerated, Darcy stridently moaning as he loved her. “Elizabeth, I love you… God how I need you! You squeeze me so tight… your legs, your arms, your body… made for me… love me, my darling! Now!”
Coherent language was lost as passion overcame them both with uttered cries and whimpers, shudders through every nerve and pore. Total abandon and uninhibited release. Two individuals joining as one. Souls combined in the purest expression of love. For timeless minutes they merged and were no longer separate.
If the journeys varied, the destination was the same. It was a beautiful period of discovery for them both. As they explored each other’s bodies and grew daily more aware of their own sensibilities, their intimate relationship blossomed into a fullness and union of souls unreservedly profound. As the initial days turned into the first week, the last vestiges of any embarrassment or awkwardness totally disappeared. At times they were playful. Other times they were serious and tender. Sometimes they were swept away with their passionate hunger. Yet always they were moved by the melding of their spirits, the harmony, and the love that defied logic by growing deeper with each passing day.
Once they emerged from their chambers, it was rarely with any particular destination in mind. They simply wanted to be together. Their keenest desire was to learn more about how the other thought and felt. The intimate nature of their communication evolved as they each had suspected it would once they were married.
Darcy no longer suffered the pain of his loneliness and grief. Wounded areas of his heart were unearthed and healed, some of which he was ignorant even existed. The past no longer haunted him, and he was able to remember and share the happy memories without the instantaneous ache of sadness overwhelming him.
As for Lizzy, she gave herself to him wholly. Her rigid independence, selfreliance, and need to prove herself all shattered before the force of his love. To be essential to another human being, to be vulnerable, to have another assign themselves generously and selflessly is the ultimate expression of true love, and they understood how lucky they were.
Most days they moseyed around Pemberley. Slowly Lizzy began to acquaint herself with the manor’s layout. Darcy was correct in stating that it really was not that confusing. The hallways were set up in a linear fashion and the rooms universally square or rectangular. Perhaps not overly imaginative, but it was easy to navigate. By the end of her first week as Mistress, she was confident enough to wander on her own around the main floor, which she did on those few occasions when Darcy was occupied with a business matter. Nonetheless, she was constantly amazed and, frankly, significantly intimidated by the vastness of the house and by the plethora of art, furnishings, history, wealth, and beauty that Pemberley housed. The more she saw, the more she was awed by the responsibilities her husband carried on his broad shoulders.