Page 122 of Bitterness of Spirit & The Painting

He smiled at her adoringly while his body—strong, powerful, possessive—broke the final barrier to their complete union.

Her soft cry cut his heart, and tenderness warred with passion. His heart ached for her and tried to comfort her. He knew he should stop, but his body was not listening. He tried to fight but failed. His body seemed to have a will of its own, demanding the long-awaited completion. The glorious feeling of being inside her and taking her as his wife was more than he had ever experienced, and the pleasure overwhelmed him.

He managed to control himself briefly, slowing his movements and allowing her to become accustomed to him.

Her eyes were closed, and he kissed them open; he wanted to see them, to read them. He searched her face, which still wore a faint trace of pain. She relaxed slightly and smiled at him, her hands embracing him as she moved slowly beneath him. His body began to move too, as if by itself, despite his struggle.

His lips kissed and moistened her dry mouth, and her moans ceased. He feared he had caused her pain, and he asked her, whispering to her his worry and his love.

She caressed his face. She barely understood his words, but her mind and body slowly relaxed under the comfort of his lips and the warmth of his voice. His kisses travelled towards her lips, her cheeks, her trembling chin while she wondered how such painful, tormenting pleasure could exist.

His love was conquering her; he filled her with his passion, taking her as his wife. She could feel him inside her, joined with her in perfect completion. The pain was stronger and sharper than she had imagined it would be, but the pleasure was also greater than she had dreamed.

Her body struggled to learn the moves of shared passion, tentatively at first. Unconsciously, her legs encircled his waist, pulling him even closer. With a husky groan, he thrust deeper and harder inside her; his lips captured hers again as the rhythm of their joined bodies grew wildly until the two became one. It was not him and her anymore, but them.

He finally reached the long-desired moment, spreading warm waves inside her trembling body; his hoarse groans combined with the soft cries escaping her swollen lips.

Some time passed before either could breathe steadily again, but still they did not pull apart. They remained closely entwined, belonging to each other in that moment of blissful felicity.

Words were not needed.

Elizabeth’s head was nestled against Darcy’ heart; her long hair caressed him, and his hands continued tenderly to stroke her smooth back, while his fingers played with her locks. Eventually—exhausted, happy, fulfilled—she fell asleep, listening to her husband’s heart beating for her.

Darcy did not sleep; he could not and would not. Overwhelmed by a delight he was eager to feel again, enraptured by the charm of the woman who just became his beloved wife, and painfully aware of the beautiful body resting naked in his arms and her intoxicating scent, he waited for her to rest.

He wanted nothing more than to love her again and again until he satisfied the hunger that had just awakened. But he knew he had to wait for that. He now could fight and control his desires to satisfy hers. He should and would be patient for her. He had all the time in the world—a lifetime—to teach her and to learn together about passion and pleasure.

“My love?” she called him unexpectedly, and he startled.

“Yes, dearest. I thought you were sleeping,” he whispered, kissing the lobe of her ear.

“I am not—yet. I just wished to tell you how much I love being your wife.”

He was surprised—and delighted.

“I hope you will love it even more, my darling wife. But we shall talk more about this tomorrow…and many days and nights to follow.”

She remembered those words from the night of their reconciliation and laughed, placing a soft kiss upon his heart. Then she fell asleep in his arms, confident that she could always trust his promises.

Epilogue

Pemberley, seven years later

Fitzwilliam Darcy stared through the window of his apartment at the joyful group running and gleefully laughing in front of the house.

The children were carefully supervised by their parents and grandparents, as well as their eldest cousins—the Gardiner children. It was early September, and the weather was just chilly enough to be pleasant and welcoming for spending time outside. Under a tree in the shade, Mrs Bennet spoke animatedly with Mrs Gardiner.

Mr Bennet, along with Mr Gardiner and Mr Wilson were again taking advantage of his library. Therefore, he moved from their bedchamber into his office. In seven years of marriage, he and Elizabeth had never used both bedchambers, so it was a comfortable place for him to retire to work in peace any time he wished a little escape from the daily din.

He loved having his house full but still retained a certain reluctance for large gatherings. Fortunately, Pemberley was grand enough to offer company or privacy, according to everyone’s individual preference.

For the last three years, the Bennets had spent most of their time at Pemberley. There was nothing much left for them in Hertfordshire. Their three youngest daughters were happily married—Lydia in London to an attorney, Kitty in Oxfordshire to the eldest son of a baronet, and Mary to the schoolmaster in Lambton, an ex-officer wounded in the war.

Bingley and Jane had left Netherfield a year after their marriage and purchased an estate only thirty miles from Pemberley. Mrs Bennet was now spoiled travelling between her eldest daughters, pleased to enjoy the excellent situation and hospitality of her sons-in-law.

Miss Caroline Bingley married a nephew of the Earl of Carnarvon, a gentleman from a titled family—more elegant than wealthy—who appreciated Miss Bingley’s impressive dowry, regardless of its being made in trade. Together with the Hursts, Caroline Herbert kept a somewhat cold acquaintance with the Darcys and their extended family.

Mr Wilson also resided primarily on his estate near Lambton, and the schools he built and developed were a blessing for the entire community. He was part of both the Gardiner and the Darcy family, and the children treated him like a third grandparent. It came as a happy surprise when he unexpectedly became attached to Georgiana’s companion, Mrs Annesley, and married her four years ago. Since he was in his early fifties, and she in her late thirties, a long, happy, and well-deserved life lay ahead of them.