Page 173
“I imagine as a man of sense and education, who has knowledge of the world, you might have seen and done things I can scarcely conceive.”
Darcy said nothing. He threaded his fingers through his hair, and then walked to the sofa and sat.
Elizabeth joined him. “Perhaps you might tell me about it as we are to be husband and wife, and I suppose I ought to know.”
“I think not. What is more, I have no intention of discussing such matters.”
“But what if our situations were reversed?”
Darcy swallowed hard. “Then, I would have every right to know. However, as the situations are not reversed, this discussion is completely beyond the pale.”
Bending her knee and tucking her foot beneath her, Elizabeth shifted her body and faced him head on. “Pray, Mr. Darcy, you will not be the sort of husband who believes a spouse’s rights are principally inherent in one’s gender, for if that is indeed the case, tell me now, and I shall know how to act.”
Darcy assumed the same attitude as his betrothed. “What manner of retribution might I endure if, in fact, that is the case?”
“Well, sir, for one, I might be rather less welcoming than a husband expects of his bride.”
“You would not dare!”
“Do not tempt me.”
“Should you do as you suggest, then I would have no choice other than to resort to any measure of stratagems and schemes to achieve my purposes. However, I do not imagine it ever coming to that. Once I have made you mine, no doubt you will become hopelessly addicted. Fear not, however, for having attested to my generosity, you can be assured that I will indulge your avid appetite with ardent alacrity.”
“You seem rather certain of yourself, sir.” By now, Elizabeth’s face was within an inch of his. “Which brings me to my original question: what is the basis for your assertions?”
PART FOUR
CAUSE TO REPINE
Darcy strode to the door and turned the key. Turning and facing Elizabeth, he pressed his shoulders up against the door. At last, there will be no more interruptions.
“Whatever are you doing, Mr. Darcy?” Standing, she placed her hands about her hips. “Do you not suppose that the prospect of finding the two of us locked behind closed doors will meet with a stern measure of disapproval from my papa?”
He swept his eyes over Elizabeth’s body. “I much prefer he finds us locked behind closed doors than find us locked in the position I have in mind.”
“Oh, and pray, what position do you have in mind?”
With long strides, he returned to her side, dropped down on the sofa, and pulled her into his arms. “I would rather show you.” After persuading her to sit astride his lap, he grasped both her hands and gently kissed the inside of her wrists. “There are consequences for your behaviour in the dining parlour.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders. Her heart palpitated as she grazed her fingers along the strong column of his neck. “Am I to be punished for doing whatever I must to ensure my future husband is well nourished?”
“On the contrary, I mean to reward you properly for your care and attention to my appetite. However, in sating one hunger, your considerations have given wake to another.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly.
Darcy said, “Indeed, have I not confessed to being a selfish man all my life? There are certain vices I simply refuse to surrender.” No longer concerned with untimely interruptions, he removed the pins from her hair and proceeded to admire the way it cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.
The sparkling fire bathing the room with its radiance only heightened the sensual intrigue. Nothing could take away from this moment—not even Mary’s laboured practising once again flooding Longbourn’s corridors.
Elizabeth peered into his eyes—dark and alluring, rendering him even more attractive than she would have allowed just a few months ago. She reached up and traced the pattern of his chiselled jaw. She kissed his cheek as he bent towards her. Her breathing unsteady, her heartbeat pounding so loudly that surely he heard it too, she lowered her hand and brushed his chest with her fingers. She then rested her head in the curve of his neck. Being with him like this, touching him like this, and being touched by him like this, all while comforted by the sense of security a locked door afforded, emboldened her. Not truly knowing what she was about, the feelings he incited in her were sufficient that she was content to throw caution to the wind and follow his lead—wherever it took them.
He pulled her face towards his and grazed his lips along her mouth before granting a deep penetrating kiss. While giving his fingers leave to pursue the path he had longed to embark upon while they were in the dining parlour, Darcy recalled the first time he leaned towards Elizabeth and pressed his lips against hers: slow, tender, and ever so brief—the first kiss of many to follow. However, this kiss was certainly different. She was used to his kisses by now, and she met them with a sense of wanting, longing for more. He could not wait to make her his wife.
Their bodies melded instinctively. Her softness against his hardness, her pleasing gyrations, and her soft gasps gratified him immensely. Darcy relished the exquisiteness of her soft lips, her tongue, and the sweet taste of strawberries. Their season of courtship had afforded many notable pleasures, but none so intoxicating as this. We have but two nights more before the wedding—two nights. If I could conclude each of them in such a manner as this, I would have no cause whatsoever for discontent.
The effect she had on Darcy did not escape Elizabeth. Indeed, it fascinated her. Her youngest sister’s way of finding a husband had nearly ruined her family and, therefore, was not something that Elizabeth liked to dwell upon. Nevertheless, she now understood how a young girl who fancied herself in love might yield to the temptations afforded in the arms of a proficient lover.
It is not that I mean to suppose for one instant that George Wickham is proficient. Egad! Why am I even thinking of George Wickham at such a moment as this? Oh yes, it is because my youngest sister has experienced that which I have been given only to wonder about in the privacy of my bedroom on more than one occasion since my engagement to Fitzwilliam.
