His gaze slid to Georgiana, the young woman startling and reddening instantly as her guilty eyes snapped briefly to Darcy even as she exclaimed, “Of course not!”
Laughter rang out. Darcy pretended a stern scowl, his smile evident nonetheless. “Shaking presents is forbidden in the Darcy household. Is that not so, Georgiana?”
“Yes, Brother.”
But she glanced at George from under her lashes, meeting his wink with twinkling eyes.
It was early yet when Lizzy cornered her husband where he stood for a moment’s solitary contemplation by a far window. She laid one hand gently on his arm, Darcy turning with a ready smile.
“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Darcy.”
“My thoughts are all of you and our family, my heart, and therefore priceless treasures.”
“So romantic you are my darling. Impressive.”
Unconsciously, he reached to stroke her cheek with a fingertip. “Must be the brandy, reminiscences, and excessive body heat pervading the room causing my mind to become all foggy and nonsensical.”
“Whatever the stimulus, do not cease as I am deeply affected by the sentiments.” She ran one hand lightly down the lapels of his jacket, holding his tenderly piercing gaze. “It is time for Alexander’s last meal. May I ask a favor? Can you form a polite reason to excuse yourself early and join us? I crave your undivided company and cuddling before the fire on our second Christmas Eve together.”
He smiled, that singular smile that lit his entire being and was only for her, touching even his vocal cords as evidenced by the huskiness in his voice. “Nothing could be simpler, beloved. I will be right behind you.”
And he was. Lizzy never knew the excuse he gave, although she would have been surprised to learn it was nothing more than the truth. Darcy declared that he wished to spend the evening alone with his wife and son, bowed gracefully if abruptly, and hastily exited the room. Having washed and divested himself of all clothing but his shirt and breeches, he entered the nursery as Lizzy was finishing the exhilarating task of nursing their son. He happily assumed the chore of final burping and rocking to sleep while Lizzy retreated to her dressing room.
Lizzy returned, pausing on the threshold and smiling at the scene. Darcy held Alexander as he rocked, whispering silly phrases of love and singing in his off-key resonant tones, bringing to life the vision of her dream from so long ago. That prescient image of Darcy calling their baby by name had cemented in her heart that they were to have a son. Brought to life innumerable times already, watching their son being adored by his father never ceased to move her.
“Is he asleep?” She whispered.
Darcy nodded, kissing the top of Alexander’s curly head. “Out for the duration I believe. Yet I do have a difficult time parting from him, even knowing he is likely more comfortable on his cushiony mattress.”
“I rather doubt he prefers the cradle to his papa’s warmth, but tonight I want you for myself.” Darcy looked at her with a raised brow and lilt to his full lips. “Yes, my selfishness unmasked. Put him down, love, and I will tell Mrs. Hanford we are retiring.”
That accomplished, Lizzy laced her fingers between Darcy’s, bending for a final kiss to the baby’s forehead before steering him out the door. To his surprise she bypassed their temporary bedchamber, leading unerringly through the sitting room to the Master suite. Darcy had barely stepped foot in this room for nearly a month, almost forgetting how cozy and spacious it was, not to mention how much larger the bed. He crossed the threshold, Lizzy’s hand warm in his, and halted thunderstruck.
A fire blazed, casting glows of red and amber across the bearskin rug and pillows before the hearth. A scattering of candles and oil lamps were lit, but the room was muted in soft rays of gold, warm and incredibly inviting. A bottle of champagne sat by the turned down bed, fluted glasses alongside a tray of fruits and sweets.
Lizzy had moved a few paces away, still clutching his hand, watching the dawning enlightenment spread over his features as his glittering blue eyes swept the scene and returned to her face. She smiled at the expression of mingled childish enthusiasm and raging ardor, his grin both breathtakingly seductive and frivolously exuberant. He truly was speechless.
She stepped closer, eyes shining as passion rose, raising the free hand to feather fingertips over his chest. “Merry Christmas, Fitzwilliam.”
For a span of several harsh breaths they stared at each other, ignoring everything beyond their acutely alive bodies. Darcy pressed Lizzy’s hand flat against his rapidly rising chest, her palm instantly burning as his skin transmit flares of heat through the linen of his shirt. Lizzy ached for his touch, yet she held still waiting for him to move. His eyes penetrated her soul, searing through her mind and body as he studied her intently as only he could.
The moments stretched, Darcy finally bending in increments that were agonizing in their sluggishness until he was inches from her upturned lips. His blue eyes were openly gazing into her brown depths, voice a bare hoarse whisper with breath brushing her sensitized mouth when he spoke.
“Are you absolutely certain, Elizabeth? Positive you are fully healed and ready for me? No reservations whatsoever? I must know because I do not think myself capable of stopping once we start. My desire for you, my hunger, burns as a consuming fire. God, how I need you, my Lizzy!”
She was already nodding as he teased the tip of his tongue over her lips. Involuntarily, a faint moaning sigh escaped her throat, Darcy shuddering as he fought for control. The urge to sweep her into his arms, carry her to their bed, and love her thirstily nearly overwhelmed him. Instead, he moved away from her deliciously devastating mouth, planting tender kisses down the sloping expanse of her neck.
Still gripping one of her hands by his side and tightly pressing the other over his wildly palpating heart, he kissed and huskily resumed his inquiry, “No lingering pain? No discomfort? I could not bear it if I hurt you even while bringing you great pleasure. We need not rush, my lover, as I will wait as long as you require…”
Lizzy halted his words by the straightforward method of clamping her mouth over his in a forceful kiss, lips parting demandingly and tongue seeking. Darcy groaned, releasing her hands to encircle her body, drawing her soft curves onto the hard planes of his entire torso... Some small section of his brain screamed to take it slowly, but Darcy was beyond reason. Even through the thick layers of his old robe that she now wore belted securely over her gown he could feel the mass of her breasts, the warmth of her flesh radiating through the fabric, her scent intoxicating and taste enthralling, as her lush figure yielded to his probing hands.
“Oh, sweet Lord, I love you, Elizabeth!” His voice was covetous, the fingers of one hand franticly fumbling with the knot at her waist, firmly compressing her upper body against his chest with the other, and simultaneously inching toward the bed.
“William, wait!” Lizzy grasped the hand at her waist, breathing so heavily she saw stars before her eyes. Darcy had halted at her cry although the effort was clearly a torture for him. “I just… need you to know that… I am not… that is, my shape is not exactly… what it was yet. I may never be… as thin again, and there are a few… marks. Just faint ones, but nonetheless they are visible and… I just thought you should be warned.”
Darcy was staring at her in genuine shock and surging amusement. The combination worked to cool the craziness of his passion, a lazy smile spreading over his face while he calmly resumed untying the robe sash, peeling it unhurriedly off her delicate shoulders. “My beautiful, sensuous, absurdly silly, adored wife. I shall not waste words of praise in an attempt to convince you how absolutely stunning you are, how desirable, how perfect, how intoxicating, how adulated. Instead, I shall show you.”