His control shattered completely.
Darcy climaxed with a groan that seemed pulled from his very core, his body shuddering above her.His seed spilled hot across her thighs and center, marking her in the most primitive way possible.The chocolate scent of him intensified until she could practically taste it on her tongue, rich and bitter and addictive.His spend was warmer than she'd expected, almost burning against her sensitive skin before cooling to a strange, tingling comfort.She watched, mesmerized, as a drop rolled down her inner thigh, and her mouth watered with an urge she didn't understand—to touch, to taste, to claim this part of him too.Her hand lifted halfway before she caught herself, cheeks burning with shame at the wanton thought.
But he had been right.The effect was profound—like cold water on a burn, the desperate clawing need eased to something manageable.Elizabeth gasped at the relief, tears streaming down her face as her body finally, finally settled.The heat banked to embers rather than inferno, present but no longer consuming.
Darcy collapsed beside her, his breathing harsh and uneven.His arm landed across her stomach, whether by design or accident she couldn't tell.Neither spoke.The room filled with only their gradually slowing breaths and the sound of sleet still pelting the windows.
Reality crept back in pieces.The wet cooling on her skin.Her nightgown rucked up around her ribs.His bed.His room.What they'd just done.What she'd begged him to do.
Elizabeth's mind, so long absent, began to reassemble itself.She was in Fitzwilliam Darcy's bed.He'd touched her intimately, brought her to climax multiple times, marked her with his seed.She'd begged for all of it.Pleaded.Used his Christian name.
The heat had retreated enough that shame could find purchase, creeping up her spine like cold fingers.She'd climbed him like a tree.She'd begged him.She'd let him touch her—there—and she'd watched him pleasure himself and she'd—
The tears came then, slipping down her temples into her hair, hot trails of mortification.
"Elizabeth."Darcy's voice cut through her spiraling thoughts."Don't.I can see you thinking.You were in heat.None of this was your fault."
"I was so—I said such things.Didsuch things."Her voice cracked on the confession."You must think me utterly wanton.You tried to stop me at every turn and I—"
The mattress shifted as Darcy sat up.She heard water, fabric, then felt the bed dip again as he returned.A warm, damp cloth touched her thigh, and Elizabeth flinched—not from pain but from the exquisite gentleness with which he cleaned her.The intimacy of it, the tender care he took with her body after she'd thrown herself at him so shamelessly, made fresh tears spill over.
"I think you were in desperate need and I helped.That's all."His voice carried that particular firmness she remembered from Pemberley, when he'd spoken of duty and honor."There's no shame in this."
"You shouldn't have had to—" The words tangled in her throat.How could she articulate the horror of forcing him into such a position?After she'd refused him at Hunsford, after she'd accused him of every failing, to then demand he service her body's base needs—
Darcy's hand cupped her face, turning her toward him with gentle insistence.His thumb brushed away a tear, and when she finally met his eyes, the intensity there stole her breath.
"I wanted to help you.Let me be very clear about that."He paused, seeming to weigh his words."This was not a burden.It was..."Another pause, longer."It was a privilege."
The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable, raw as an open wound.Elizabeth searched his face, wanting desperately to believe him, to trust that he didn't despise her for her weakness.His features held no disgust, no triumph at her degradation.Only concern and something else—something careful and protective that made her chest constrict.
"Will you tell anyone?"The question emerged small, frightened as a child's whisper in the dark.
His expression softened immediately, that intensity banking to something infinitely gentle."Never.Your secret is safe with me.Always."
He helped her right her nightgown then, hands careful and impersonal—so different from minutes ago when those same fingers had drawn such pleasure from her body.The cotton felt strange against her oversensitive skin, but at least she was covered.Some small dignity restored.
Exhaustion hit her like a physical weight, the aftermath of heat leaving her wrung out and boneless.Every muscle felt liquid, her very bones seeming to have dissolved.
Darcy seemed to sense it because he said, "Stay.I'll take the chair."His tone brooked no argument, that particular alpha authority that her newly awakened omega instincts couldn't resist.
Elizabeth wanted to protest—it was his bed, his room, she'd already asked too much—but sleep pulled at her with inexorable force.She shifted to lie correctly across the mattress.His scent on the pillows wrapped around her like armor, dark chocolate and autumn leaves soothing something deep in her hindbrain that still trembled with need.
"Thank you," she whispered, words slurring with exhaustion."For helping me.For not—for stopping when you did.For not taking advantage."
Darcy's hand brushed her hair back from her face, just once, the touch achingly gentle."Sleep now."
Perhaps… perhaps he had not been indifferent to her at all.
She was asleep before she could respond, tumbling into darkness with his scent in her lungs and the ghost of his touch on her skin.
Elizabeth understood how wrong she was to think his indifference had melted away the next morning.
Gray dawn seeped through curtains she didn't recognize.Elizabeth found herself alone in the vast bed, the sheets beside her cold and undisturbed.Darcy occupied the chair near the fire's dying embers, properly attired once more—cravat tied, waistcoat buttoned, every inch the proper gentleman.His gaze fixed upon her with an expression she couldn't decipher, something shuttered behind his dark eyes.The moment her eyes opened, his attention shifted to the window."You ought to return to your chamber before the servants stir."The formality in his tone cut through the morning chill—each word measured and distant, as if last night had been nothing more than a fever dream.He stood."I shall ensure the passage is empty."
Mortification accompanied her flight back to her room.
CHAPTERFOUR
