“Yes, William,” she said, her gaze holding his, an invitation, a plea, a terrifying, exhilarating leap of faith.
His eyes never left hers as his hands went to the buttons of his waistcoat. In one fluid movement, he slipped the garment from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, a final, discarded piece of a gentleman’s formality.
His fingers, she noted with a thrill of her own, were not entirely steady as they now went to the buttons of his shirt. He worked the shirt free, the linen whispering as he pulled it over his head, revealing the hard, lean lines of his body.
Her throat tightened, and a pulse she did not recognise began to beat an insistent rhythm deep within her. Her own clothing suddenly felt impossibly restrictive.
Darcy’s gaze dropped to the modest neckline of her dress, his eyes asking the question before his lips formed the words.
“May I?” he asked, a low tremor in his voice.
In answer, Elizabeth reached out, her hand finding his, and guided his fingers to the top button of her dress. That was all the encouragement he needed. His touch was sure now as he undid the fastenings, his knuckles grazing against her skin with each movement. As the fabric fell away, his fingertips ghosted over her back, a touch as light as a whisper, yet it sent fire through her veins.
In his touch, she felt his strength and his tenderness, his measured control and his unrestrained passion, and she found herself desiring more. It was a sensation both daunting and wonderful, this first unveiling, this intense vulnerability. Yet she did not feel bashful. This was William. Her husband.
She feltdaring.
With every brush of his fingers, an arc of living energy seemed to leap from his skin to hers. She shivered.
Darcy answered her shiver with a kiss. His mouth found the sensitive skin of her neck, and a gasp escaped her, not just from the sensation, but from the jolt she felt through their bond, a surge so intense she felt the sharp bite of winter air and the burn of the sun all at once. Her senses reeled; her skin came alive, every nerve ending awake and tingling. With an urgency that surprised them both, her hands found the back of his head, her fingers tangling into his thick hair as she tilted his head to hers, seeking his lips. She had no experience to guide her, no knowledge save for the half-understood whispers of married women or the observations gleaned from living at a country estate, yet every instinct in her body told her this was right.
His magic flared through their bond, an unleashed pulse that matched the sudden, feverish claiming of his mouth on hers. His arms tightened around her, and he let out a low moan as he pulled her closer, eliciting an answering murmur of pleasure from her.
“Oh, William.”
She felt him first stiffen, and then unravel, the meticulous control he held so tightly coming undone. The kiss became deeper, rougher. Elizabeth met his fervour with a bold exploration of her own, arching into him as her hands drifted down from his shoulders, down the lines of his body, before coming to rest on the taut muscle of his thigh.
A shudder wracked him. He broke the kiss abruptly, resting his brow against her collarbone, his breathing quick and shallow. “Elizabeth. A moment. I fear I might…”
“Am I meant to be alarmed?” she teased, as her hands came back to trace the taut plane of his chest. She delighted in the small, involuntary tremble that ran through him beneath her palm.
“Temptress,” he said, his voice strained.
As Elizabeth took in the sight of him, so handsome, so beautifully unguarded, the unfamiliar pulse inside her deepened into an slow, sweet ache.
“Look at me,” she whispered.
Drawing a single, deep breath, Darcy obliged. As his head rose and he met her gaze, she saw his eyes darken with desire and intent. He leaned toward her ever so slightly, his breath warm as it skimmed across her cheek. Her body seemed to recognise and answer his silent request, for she yielded, a slow, inevitable descent, her shoulders sinking back into the pillows as he moved down with her.
All awareness of the world fled, her senses consumed by the the sheer masculine magnetism of him, poised with sucheffortless control above her. His dark gaze held her fast in the sudden hush, as all other sound faded away. The world stilled.
And in her next heartbeat, she looked into the depths of his eyes and saw it all. Everything they had overcome and everything they now were.
A perfect spark ignited.
Their shared connection blazed to life, a gentle fire that filled the room with a golden canopy of light. This was a power made not to scorch or consume, but to envelop them in its living warmth. Elizabeth felt him not just with her body, but with her very being, a connection so complete it was as if she could feel the beat of his heart as her own.
She felt the frantic edge of his need gentle, eased by the magic now flowing between them. Darcy stilled above her, his expression one of almost disbelieving wonder as he looked not at her, but at the light their magic had created. “Is this...is this our doing?”
“I believe it is,” she said, equally awed, “It is dazzling.”
Darcy’s gaze returned to hers. The sound he made was an unsteady breath, caught somewhere between a hitch and a laugh. “Dazzling, certainly. And perhaps a little hazardous.”
Her hands came up to weave through the hair at his nape, her fingers gently urging him closer. “Then you must attend to me with diligence, sir, and ensure that I do not set the curtains ablaze.”
“A charge I shall undertake with the utmost devotion.” The amusement in his voice gave way to a deeper, richer timbre. “My brightest flame,” he whispered, his lips finding hers. “My dearest.” His mouth trailed a path to the dip of her collarbone. “Loveliest.” The word was a hot breath. And then lower still, a sealing kiss before he whispered her name against her skin. “Elizabeth.”
And as he came to her, every touch, every kiss, was a rewriting of their history. The icy disdain of Meryton was melted by the heat of his skin against hers. The bitter arguments in the lesser library were silenced by their breathless murmurs. The forced, cold contract of their marriage was consumed and reforged in the fire of their shared passion, their intertwined magic, their finally, perfectly, united hearts.
