She continues to giggle. “So, are you better now? Your heart continues to pound.”
“I judge my heart shall forever pound when near you.” His voice deepens an octave and tender fingers trace over her features, darkened eyes following. “Elizabeth,” in barely a whisper, “you are incredibly beautiful. I so love and adore you. I am the happiest of men.”
Giggles cease. She is breathless and mesmerized, captured by his eyes and the renewed thrills racing through her body at his touch. His eyes and fingertips have reached her parted lips, feathering lightly. Panting breathlessly, voice nearly inaudible, she pleads, “William.”
“Elizabeth, please, may I kiss you?”
Unable to speak, she only nods faintly. As if in a dream of exquisite beauty with gazes riveted, he lowers his head slowly while cupping her face with his strong yet tender hands. Thumbs caress her cheeks and their eyes slide shut with the gentle pressure of mouths brushing once, then again and again and again.
Are there words adequate to describe what is indescribable? Their kisses are restrained, pure, and delicate; yet the sensations educed are torrential, dynamic, and astonishing. Simultaneous shivers and sighs of pleasure escape their lips and they laugh softly, twinkling eyes meeting.
“Is it supposed to feel so… incredible?”
He smiles and shakes his head minutely. “I would not know, but I believe it should.” Without another word he claims her mouth again, kissing with gradually increasing fervor, hands traveling to her neck for soothing strokes.
Of their own volition, her hands begin tentatively exploring the muscular contours of his chest and shoulders, moving up to encircle his bare neck with fingers entwined in his hair. Her lips instinctively part and, in a rush of primal need, he deepens the kiss, moaning faintly when she responds hesitantly in kind. It is sheer ecstasy! The warmth and moisture and intimacy of this manner of kissing beyond anything either of them has ever experienced.
Leaving her luscious mouth, he plants moist kisses all about her face. He kisses the top of her head, inhaling deeply of the lavender scent in her lush hair that he began associating with her months ago. Intoxicated beyond the effect of a fine wine, he rains soft kisses along her scalp to her ear and then to the sensitive flesh behind her lobe. He moans her name, utterly lost to love and rising passion and gently drawing her earlobe between his lips while his hands caress over her arms and then to her upper back, unwittingly pulling her closer to his body. Returning to her open, receptive mouth, he ardently pours his very soul into this rapturous expression of their mutual love and craving. She matches each motion, responding to him with greater boldness that escalates rapidly to a wild abandon.
She groans loudly, unconsciously pressing her entire body tightly against his, arms over his shoulders and clutching his back and head with alarming power. Cold reality crashes over him with the awareness of his marked physical arousal, evident to them both as indicative of the strict line he has allowed himself to cross. Utterly mortified and shamed, he clasps her shoulders and frantically pulls away.
Unable to meet her eyes, agonizing at the reproach and horror he expects and deserves to see there, he hoarsely stammers, “Elizabeth… Miss Elizabeth, I beg your forgiveness! My behavior is ungentlemanly and unforgivable. Please, accept my heartfelt apology.”
She is confused and dazed with strange but pleasant currents racing through her, her heart fluttering so alarmingly that she is light-headed. Feeling bereft at the sudden abandonment of his warmth, she stutters, “I… I am so sorry… I thought you wanted to… I should not have…” Shy and insecure for the first time since encountering him that day, tears well in her eyes and she hangs her head to avoid his gaze.
For a few moments they stand there not touching, breathing heavily, and collecting their befuddled thoughts.
“What you must think of me…” she mutters.
“Can you forgive me, my love… ?” he blurts at the same instant.
“Forgive you… what?” she asks in surprise.
“Whatever do you mean, ‘think of you?’” again speaking over each other.
“I behaved so wantonly…”
“I lost control of myself…”
Halting mid-sentence, they stare at each other. Slowly she begins to smile and laugh quietly. He watches her in perplexity, flushing and then gradually lifting his lips in amusement as her laugh deepens.
“She is laughing at me again.”
“On the contrary, I am laughing at us! Mr. Darcy, let me see if I understand this: you are apologizing for enjoying kissing me, your betrothed, while I am apologizing for responding to said kisses?” He nods, flushing brighter. “Therefore, in effect, we are apologizing for being in love?”
He opens his mouth and then snaps it closed, glancing away from her enchanting face. “It does seem rather ludicrous when you state it thusly.” He looks at her, countenance serious, and clasps her hands. “Elizabeth, you surely understand that it is not merely the enjoyment of our love that concerns me, but the appropriateness of its expression before we are wed. It is shockingly improper for us to even discuss these matters, let alone experience them!”
She bites the corner of her lip and averts her gaze. “William, I appreciate your concern, although I submit that little about our relationship has been proper or appropriate, and yet here we are. You are correct, of course, in maintaining decorum until we are married, but…”
“Elizabeth, please, I…” he begins, but she interrupts with a fierce, teary stare.
“Mr. Darcy, I will not apologize for communicating openly with you! Nor will I hide my love for you. We have done far too much of both, nearly losing each other in our stupidity, misconceptions, and pride.”
He studies her eyes, grinning happily. “You are amazing, Elizabeth, and I love you ardently.” Embracing her comfortingly, he kisses her sweet lips lightly.
“Lizzy!” Jane’s voice calls from the corner of the house. “Luncheon is ready. Mr. Darcy is welcome.”
“Thank you, Jane. We will be in directly.”
Holding each other, he strokes her face and she runs her fingers over his features, smiling happily and wholly content. Another tender kiss and then he pulls away, bringing her hand to his lips. “I shall leave you now, dearest. Extend my gratitude to your mother, but I am not presentable and, frankly, my heightened emotions would render me unfit for polite company. I will return this evening.”
He takes a step to leave, but she grips his hand to halt him. In a burst of enthusiasm, she wraps her free hand around his neck, pulling him toward her as she lifts on her tiptoes, kissing him soundly. When she releases him finally, they are breathless and his eyes are smoldering afresh, having so briefly been restored to a state of calm.
“From here on, I promise to behave as I should and not tempt fate. So, remember these kisses, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and do not doubt my love for you!”
He can only nod as she propels him out of the garden. At the back door, they part with formal salutations and proper hand kisses. She watches him until he is out of sight, and then, with a giddy laugh and a twirling dance, she joins her family.
“Perhaps you should not enter the water, William. Your wound is not fully healed.”
Darcy looked down at the twin scars on his side, still reddened and puckered, but healing well despite him removing the stitches without the physician’s consent and constantly scratching at it. Lizzy was forever slapping his hands and scolding him. The laceration on his chest had mended quickly, a residual fine pale line the only evidence. His bruises had faded rapidly, although his left foot still pained him if he stepped the wrong way. She joked that they were a pair of invalids. He joked that they therefore must each nurse the other with tender loving.