Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World (25 page)

"You
need not worry. Nothing could do that."

Her
instinct was to remain silent, but hiding her feelings had not served her well
with him. "But you have often rebuffed me when I approached you."

"What
do you mean?" He sounded more puzzled than irritated.

"Whenever
I took the initiative to approach you--when I thanked you for the necklace, or
when I greeted you on your return from London, or when I wrote you that
letter--it angered you. You cannot deny it."

"But
I was not angry with you." He sounded more than a little annoyed by her
suggestion.

"It
certainly seemed so to me."

His
arms tightened around her. "Do you know what it is to be a man violently
in love? To live for a woman's smiles and laughter, to hunger for her touch
until life itself seems impossible without it, to desire her as you desire to
breathe? I was angry and hurt after our quarrel, yes, but it did not take long
for those other feelings to resurface, and then ... " He abruptly turned
his face away from her.

Elizabeth
felt a moment of panic, then forced herself to remember how he had told her of
his love just that afternoon. She ran her finger down his cheek. "And
then?"

The
words began to tumble out, like water behind a breached dam. "Then

I
faced an impossible temptation. You would give me anything I asked for.

I
could have all those things I wanted so badly, merely by indicating to you I
wanted them. You would smile and laugh for me, and welcome me to your bed, but
it would not be out of affection on your part, merely duty."

He
said the last word as if it were poison.

"But
I told you in my letter that I loved you, and many times while you were
ill."

"I
thought it an attempt to please me. I wanted you so badly that sometimes I was
almost willing to accept the lies. So I rejected your advances before I reached
the point where I would take advantage of your to my wishes. It was ... a
struggle."

"But
it was not duty! Did it never occur to you that I might come to care for
you?"

He
sighed heavily. "No. It did not." His words held a great finality.

She
ran her fingers over his brow, wishing she could wipe away the furrows. This
was her doing. "You undervalue yourself. I found much to admire in
you."

"I
thank you, but your admiration was not what I sought. But it is nothing new. I
have not the gift of winning friendships. When I meet people, I am constantly
giving offence, often without intending to do so. There are few people willing
to overlook that, and those who do seek my friendship tend to be looking for an
advantage in it. You were different. When I would say the wrong thing, you
would laugh and turn it back around at me. It did not seem to trouble you. But
I was wrong about that, as I have been wrong about so many other things."

It
explained how her lively spirits had misled him, something she had often
wondered about, but his first words had surprised her. "But you have
friends, and you are respected by everyone here at Pemberley."

"Very
few friends, and most like Bingley, who cannot hold a grudge for long even on
the rare occasions he takes offence. But you know my weakness already; I
certainly off ended you often enough on the matter of your family, when I
thought it showed that I trusted you. Instead I only made you dislike me
more." Darcy stood and moved to the fireside, taking up a poker and
stirring the flames. A log crackled and broke, sending a spray of sparks up the
chimney.

Because
he trusted her. If she wanted him to trust her again, she must tell him the
truth, no matter how painful. "It angered me when you said those things
because they were true. My family has been embarrassing me since I was old
enough to understand what embarrassment meant. I learned in time to laugh at
it, since the only other choice was perpetual mortification and fearing the
world's opinions. I love my family dearly, but I resented you for speaking the
truth about them."

She
could not look at him. The roots of this shame went deep, back to
her
childhood when she began to recognize that some of their acquaintances turned
away when her mother came toward them. She had learned to observe those people,
to watch their more seemly behaviour and to emulate it, so no one would look at
her as they did at her mother.

Now
he knew her secret. She raised her eyes to his face. "Will you forgive my
pride, for refusing to acknowledge your qualms about my family?"

Darcy
shook his head. "I am the one who should beg forgiveness. I should never
have said those things. I should have realized it would hurt you. There is
unseemly behaviour enough among my relations, but the difference is that no one
dares condemn them for it. It would be different, I am sure, had they not the
Fitzwilliam name to protect them."

She
remembered how she had thrown the same accusation at him during their quarrel,
before she knew how deeply she could injure him, before she understood the
vulnerabilities that lay behind his sometimes autocratic front. Even now with
their better understanding, she could still see the sadness behind his eyes,
and knew herself to be the cause. If only she could drive it away as easily as
she had caused it.

But
perhaps she could, for she knew what he liked. She gave him an arch look as she
wound her arms around his neck. "I love my family, but perhaps it is as
well that we do not live too close to Longbourn." She leaned in to caress
his lips with hers.

He
put his hand behind her head, assuring that she did not escape the kiss
quickly. "Nor too close to Rosings, I might add."

It
was a small triumph to hear him more cheerful again, for it was still easy to
shake her faith in his love for her. The pain that thought gave her drove her
to seek the reassurance of closeness to him. Her hands reached for his
waistcoat, unfastening the buttons so she could feel the warmth of him through
the thin lawn of his shirt. She leaned her head against his chest with a sigh.

His
eyebrows shot up. "You never cease to amaze me, Elizabeth."

"What,
am I shocking you, sir?"

He
drew in a sharp breath. "Yes. But pleasantly so."

She
had not intended anything beyond what she had already achieved, but his look
spurred her to try her luck at untying his immaculate cravat.

"Would
that be more or less pleasant than you find shocking me to be?"

She
nibbled on his lower lip, successfully keeping him from responding immediately.

"I
am not certain as yet," he said, his voice a little ragged. "You had
best continue, in order to give me sufficient evidence to consider the
question."

"I
certainly cannot stand in the way of scientific inquiry," she teased as
she tugged at a particularly difficult knot in his cravat. Finally it gave way
and the white cloth came free in her hands.

She
so rarely had the opportunity to see his neck, and she loved the lines of it.
She ran her fingers from the corner of his jaw down to the base of it.
Overtaken by a sudden burst of love for him, she pressed her lips to his neck,
where his pulse ran below the surface, tasting the salt of his skin.

She
untied his shirt at the collar and slipped her hand inside to caress his chest.

His
hands reached for her breasts. Without thought, she pressed herself forward
into his touch. It was hard to remember that only a few days earlier she would
have shied away from this sensation, and now she sought it out as his thumbs
rubbed across the sensitive tips, making her ache for him.

She
pushed back his coats to bury her face against his shirt, breathing in his
musky scent, impatient to remove even that last barrier.

She
had started this for his sake, but it had turned into something else.

She
wanted the closeness to him for herself, to feel the joy of her love for him
and to forget the pain and fear of the day in the pleasure he could give her,
to remember life when there had been death. She tugged at his shirt until it
came free of the waistband of his trousers.

"Elizabeth."
Darcy spoke her name as if it were a plea. His mouth sought out hers, tasting
her as if he could never have enough. "Tell me this is real, and not
another dream."

Her
response was half laugh, half sob. "It is real." She could feel his
arousal beneath her, making her long to be connected to him in the most
intimate of ways, and never to part. "Come." She stood on trembling
legs and took his hand, leading him to her room. He paused in the doorway.

"Should
we go to my room instead?"

"Do
you dislike it here?" She had wondered why he had wanted her in his bed
the last two nights.

"No,
but I do not wish to remind you ... of before." He said it quietly, as if
not wanting to give the words too much power.

She
turned and put her arms around him, touched by his concern for her.

"It
will not remind me, because I understand now what it is to love you. You need
have no fear of the past."

Her
words seemed to mobilize him. He stripped off his topcoat waistcoat, tossing
them carelessly over a chair, then reached for the buttons at the back of her
dress. Elizabeth could not stop watching his form. The draped fabric of his
shirt revealed his shape more than his coat ever did.

His
hands moving industriously down her back made her tremble with anticipation as
he freed her first of her dress, then her corset and shift. It was as if he
could not wait; as soon as she felt the coolness of the air against her skin,
his hands began roaming over her exposed flesh. She gasped as the sensation
threatened to consume her.

"Bed,"
he said succinctly.

With
an arch smile she led him there, letting him press her back against the
pillows. His urgency was unmistakable, and her own was hardly less.

She
strained against him, seeking to be ever closer, to feel the very essence of
him.

He
held himself still as his hand wandered between her legs, arousing her yet
further as his fingers brushed against her most private places. The previous
nights he had lingered there to give her pleasure, but tonight she needed a
different sort of fulfilment. She did not yet know how to communicate her
desire by touching him, so instead she begged, "Please love me,
Fitzwilliam."

He
stilled then, and she could see the fine sheen of perspiration on his chest. He
must have been trying to hold back for her sake. A surge of love for him
overwhelmed her as he parted her legs with his own.

"Now
and always, my love," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. Then
he was within her, moving in an instinctive rhythm she could not resist.

This
was not how she had ever imagined love to be, but now she knew what it meant to
give herself utterly to the man she loved, unclothed both in body and soul. At
first she could only glory in the sense of intimacy she felt with him; and the
release of her fears of losing his love, still with her from that afternoon,
brought her near tears. Then she abandoned herself to the gift of pleasure,
sensing Darcy's satisfaction as he made her moan and move beneath him. Waves of
heat began to wash through her, building ever higher as she opened herself to
him even more, until they finally crested in a spiral of sensation that left
her trembling. His fulfillment was not far behind.

Afterwards,
she savoured his closeness as he cradled her in his arms. She brushed her lips
against his. "Now do you believe it is real?" she asked.

"Yes,
but I will not object if you tell me again." He twined his fingers in her
curls, looking as if he were studying them intently.

The
words she had thought she could never say now came freely to her lips. "I
love you ardently and with all my heart."

Looking
up at him, she thought his eyes were glistening.

Darcy
asked the boy at the stable to fetch Pandora and Mercury. In response to
Elizabeth's grateful glance, he said, "I told you I would not ride
Hurricane. I think you will approve of Mercury."

Elizabeth
bit her lip. "Do you mind terribly?"

"Not
if it pleases you, my love." He would miss Hurricane, but Elizabeth's
happiness was paramount.

Hoofbeats
sounded behind them. Georgiana, her cheeks rosy, trotted up on her tall mare.
"I did not realize you would be riding today, Fitzwilliam.

Perhaps
you would enjoy a race?"

He
sought out Elizabeth's hand. "Thank you, but another time. I am planning
to ride with Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth
could join us."

Elizabeth
shook her head. "I fear not. I am still a beginner, and I doubt either of
you would be interested in the pace I keep."

Georgiana's
mare stamped her feet, and the girl expertly guided her a few feet away.
"How is it you never learned to ride before?" It was clear she had
been longing for an opportunity to ask the question.

"I
did not care to. Once, when I was small, I was playing by the lane, and I saw a
man thrown from his horse. He died at my feet."

Darcy
turned to her in surprise. "You never told me he died." It explained
something of the depth of her mystifying fear of horses. And he had pushed her
to learn, without realizing what he was asking. "Are you certain you wish
to do this?"

She
turned a luminous smile on him. "Of course. How can I resist the
opportunity to visit the famous Curbar Edge?"

His
heart filled with admiration of her. "It will be a long ride at a
walk."

"Then
it is a fortunate thing I will have good company."

Georgiana
watched as they mounted their horses and ambled away. She would die of boredom
on that horse of Elizabeth's. At least that solved
mystery about Elizabeth, but Georgiana doubted she
would ever understand her brother's marriage. First they barely talked to one
another, and now suddenly they were inseparable. It was quite baffling. Without
question, she was in no hurry to marry.