Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (20 page)

He
did not seem to need any lessons in what pleased her; he seemed to know just
where to touch her, how to caress and kiss her, to bring on those urges she had
so fought against in the past. Whenever she would shiver in response, he would
redouble his efforts until she was burning with desire for more.

She
did not know what to do with this torrent inside her, this unfamiliar ache
consuming her, fuelled by the movement of his hands on her body, across her hips,
finally finding their way between her legs. She tensed then, for this had
always been the most difficult part for her to control in the past, but even so
she was unprepared for the intense pulse of heat his fingers created in her
most private parts. Unable to stop herself, she pressed against his hand and
made a strangled sound.

The
movement of his fingers did not stop, but he said against her mouth,

"If
this is not pleasing to you, tell me."

She
forced her mind to work again, no mean feat when her body was trembling with
the cadenced sensation he was provoking in her. "No, sir, I am merely more
embarrassed than I have ever been before."

She
felt rather than saw his smile as he said, "Then let us see how much further
I can embarrass you." He lowered his mouth to her breast.

How
could he do this, taking control of her own body away from her?

She
had not thought, when he spoke of pleasure for her, that he meant such
wantonness, nor that she had the capacity to feel such a need.

He
must have felt the increased stiffness in her, for he stopped and brushed her
face with kisses. "Too embarrassed?"

"I
fear so." She closed her eyes tightly, not wishing to see disapproval on
his face.

Instead
she heard the warmth of his voice. "Elizabeth. Stop thinking.

Just
feel."

Perhaps
he did not realize how out of control she felt. "You wish me to be a
complete wanton?"

"Yes."
There was a world of earnestness in his tone. "Trust me. Let me show you
how this is meant to be."

Could
she so let go of everything she had been taught? But his very nearness
convinced her. Even if she was unsure, she would try, because he wished it. As
his fingers began to move again, bringing those impossible bursts of pleasure
again, she abandoned herself to sensation.

Something
seemed to take possession of her then, something that made her moan and writhe
in response to his touch. It was like a delirium, but of such intensity she
could only lose herself within it. It built and built within her until her
senses were in such riot she hardly knew herself, and then, with an abruptness
that startled her, her body was overtaken by a consuming fi re which erupted
from his fingers and spread through her every extremity, leaving her shaking
and crying out.

Then
it was gone, leaving a pleasant lethargy in its wake, and muscles which would
not quite obey her. She could not comprehend it.

Darcy
seemed unsurprised by what had occurred, a good sign, she supposed, that he did
not disapprove. But he was still watching her intently.

"Embarrassed?"

"Utterly
mortified." She could laugh at herself a little now, at her own lack of
understanding of herself.

"Well,
I am delighted." There was such rich meaning in his voice that she could
not doubt him. "Pleased beyond measure, and I shall show you just how
pleased that is."

She
opened her arms and her body to him then, feeling a certain relief at returning
to ground familiar to her. But then he was within her, filling her, and
bringing a fulfillment so unlike what she had experienced in the past when he
possessed her that she could barely breathe. It was as if she was becoming a
part of him, and he of her. She longed for more, tilting her hips to receive
him better, and was rewarded when he moaned with pleasure. His hand reached
down to grasp her leg, pulling it around his.

As
she obeyed his urging, embracing his legs with hers, he thrust into her once
more, this time reaching depths she had not known she possessed. A cry burst
from her lips as a sharp shock of pleasure stabbed through her, and she heard
him murmur her name beside her ear, repeating it again and again as if it were
a prayer.

The
warmth of his body overwhelmed her, the ecstatic feeling of his skin against
her own, the salty taste of his skin when she pressed her lips to his shoulder,
seeking some way to express the impossible intimacy she felt. She could feel
his urgency growing, that point where his needs overtook his careful
self-control, but this time she felt her own control slipping as well, the
coiled heat building in her once again. Apparently he could sense it as well,
since his voice tightened as he said, "Yes. Yes, Elizabeth, yes."

Surely
what happened earlier could not occur a second time, but she could tell this
time it was coming, that uncontrollable surge of pleasure that made her arch
back and cry out convulsively. As she clung helplessly to him, her body
throbbing, he continued, ever faster and harder, bringing with him each time an
echo of that pleasure within her until she felt faint.

She
whispered his name as he stiff ened and a deep groan escaped his lips.

Then
it was over, and his body lay draped over hers.

Tears
forming in her eyes, Elizabeth stroked his upturned cheek lightly with her fingertips,
then let her hand return to holding him close, feeling his chest expand and
contract as his breathing slowed once more. For this moment, at least, he was
hers alone.

Usually
Elizabeth woke to early morning light, but the sun was well into the sky when
she opened her eyes to find her husband's warm body beside hers and his arm
thrown over her unclothed flesh.

Instant
recollection brought heat to her cheeks. She remembered her attempt the
previous night to return to her room when he fell asleep, only to have him pull
her closely against him and say in a drowsy voice, "Do not go." Even
half-asleep, he made it more an instruction than a request, but she was
beginning to understand it would always be so, that his questions were more
likely to be framed as commands. The master of Pemberley, indeed.

Still,
it was one thing to allow Darcy to see her unclothed form by candlelight, and
quite another to face the same prospect in full daylight. The thought sent her
scrambling out of bed to slip into her nightdress. She found his nightshirt
crumpled next to it on the floor, then turned to discover her husband's eyes on
her.

Darcy
raised himself on his elbow. "What are you doing, Elizabeth?"

"I
am disguising the evidence before poor Ferguson arrives." She smiled at
him as she folded his nightshirt.

"Poor
Ferguson, indeed. Come back to bed, wife. I wish to embarrass you again."

"Again?"
The words slipped from her lips before she realized what she was saying.

She
could see him withdrawing behind his eyes. "Only if you wish it, of
course," he said formally.

She
did not wish to lose the ground they had gained, so she sat on the bed and
boldly touched his cheek with her fingertips. "That is not what I meant.
You merely took me by surprise."

His
fingers were already busy untying the nightdress she had just fastened.
"Do I shock you?"

She
felt a flush travel down her body as he removed her shift. "Perhaps, but
it does not follow that the shock must be unwelcome."

He
spread kisses across her shoulder, sending tingling sensations deep within her.
"Do you know, Elizabeth, I think I could learn to enjoy shocking
you."

Laughter
bubbled to her lips. "But it is so simple. There is hardly any sport in
it, you must admit."

"Oh,
no, there is great sport, indeed." He moved his hand to show her exactly
what he meant.

Afterward
he rested his hand on her waist, looking at it intently.

Uncomfortable
with his eyes on her, Elizabeth said, "If you are hoping to find
something, there is as yet nothing to discover."

"Yet
you think ... "

That
stray lock of hair was dangling over his forehead again. She brushed it back
gently with her fingertips; then, recalling the times she had wanted to make
this small gesture but had feared his rejection, impulsively kissed him. He
looked at her with surprise.

"It
is too early to know for certain, but I have reason to think it may be the
case."

He
began to trace small circles over her stomach. "But you are ...
well?"

"I
am well." She wished she understood him better. His sudden terseness
seemed to cover something, but whether it was pleasure or not she could not
tell. Still, she did not want him to be disappointed if it proved a false
alarm. "I will not know until it quickens, if it does. Until then I can
but guess."

The
corners of his mouth turned down. "When will that be?"

She
was tempted to laugh, but sensed this was not the moment to tease.

"I
cannot predict it, I fear."

"I
do not like to wait." He sounded almost petulant.

Since
there was no other answer she could give apart from the one which clearly
displeased him, Elizabeth decided to distract him from the issue.

Gathering
her courage, she ran her hand provocatively down his chest and scattered light
kisses across his chest and neck, as he had done to her so effectively earlier.
When her lips reached his ear, she whispered, "Some things may prove worth
the wait."

Darcy
tugged her closer to him, his arm encircling her, but before he could kiss her,
a knock came at the door. It was followed by the sound of Ferguson clearing his
throat. "Mr. Darcy, Lucy asks me to tell you that Mrs. Darcy's breakfast
is ready for her in your sitting room."

Elizabeth
hid a smile. Clearly even her shocking presence in the master's room could not
stop Lucy on her appointed mission. "Thank you,

Ferguson,"
she said, hoping she sounded as confident as the mistress of Pemberley ought.

She
would have arisen then, but Darcy seemed disinclined to remove the arm that was
holding her to him, so she rested her head on the comfortable solidity of his
shoulder, feeling the slow rise and fall of his chest. If he found nothing
embarrassing about their situation, she would try to take her cues from him.

"Do
you prefer to breakfast in your room as a rule?" he asked.

"No,
but I have done so the last few weeks, since Lucy feels it her mission to ensure
that I eat well each morning."

"The
decision should be yours, not Lucy's." He seemed to miss the point of her
teasing.

She
kissed the corner of his jaw, enjoying the roughness of the slight stubble on
it. "I know, but in truth she is right. My strength is better if I eat
something before facing the perils of my toilette."

He
released his hold on her. "Then I must not keep you from it."

She
wondered if she should invite him to join her, or whether he would view that as
an imposition. Perhaps a compromise position would be safest.

"No
doubt there is enough tea for two, if you would like a cup as well."

"Perhaps
so." But he did not move from his position on the bed as she sat up and
found her shift once more.

She
quickly replaited her hair, aware that his eyes were following her. If only she
could read his mood better! She could not tell whether he felt of the closeness
she did, but she could hope for it. She stood, casting him a smile over her
shoulder. "I will ask Lucy to bring another cup, then."

He
turned back the bedcovers. Elizabeth automatically averted her eyes until he
had shrugged into his green silk robe. He seemed to feel none of the discomfort
she did. Clearly it would take time to accustom herself to her husband's ideas
of intimacy.

Darcy
followed Elizabeth into the sitting room, where Lucy had laid out Elizabeth's
breakfast on the small table in front of the fire. Elizabeth was pleased to
notice there were two cups.

Lucy
looked questioningly at Elizabeth as she seated herself and began to pour out
the tea. "No need to worry, Lucy; I have already informed Mr.

Darcy
as to my possible condition."

Lucy's
shoulders straightened. "Very well, madam."

Elizabeth
handed Darcy a cup of tea. "Lucy has been a veritable tyrant in your
absence, constantly insisting that I eat and rest. I suspect her of keeping a
whip in the dressing room in case I misbehave."

Lucy's
mouth dropped open in shock. Darcy laughed. "Well done, Lucy.

I
am glad to know my wife has been in capable hands."

Barely
managing to regain her aplomb, Lucy dropped a quick curtsey.

"Thank
you, sir," she whispered, looking as if she wished to fl ee the room.

Elizabeth
took a sip of her tea. "Lucy even threatened to report me to Mrs. Reynolds
if I did not eat."

"Now
that is a fearsome threat, if you have ever seen Mrs. Reynolds in anger. It was
a matter of great relief to me when I grew too tall for her to turn me over her
knee."

Elizabeth
laughed at the idea of such a sight. "Surely you were never disobedient,
Mr. Darcy," she said archly.

He
smiled slowly at her, a private smile, it seemed. "On the contrary. I am
sure Lucy could tell you stories she has heard."

"Stop
tormenting poor Lucy." Elizabeth placed a slice of bread on her plate.
"Lucy, I will ring for you later, once I have convinced Mr. Darcy to
torment Ferguson in your place."

"And
richly he deserves it," muttered Darcy.

"What
has Ferguson done?" Elizabeth was amused by his petulant look appearing
once again. Lucy stole the opportunity to disappear out the door.

"Nothing
of importance, though he is no doubt training Lucy in the fine art of subtle
insubordination."

"There
was nothing subtle about Lucy's insubordination. She stood over me and glared
until I ate."