He lifted so as to see her blushing face. “A confession?” His fingers assumed the task of delighting her breasts as his lips feathered over her neck to the tender spot behind her ear.
Lizzy moaned and shivered. “Yes,” she responded breathlessly. “The truth is that I have been too occupied to more than glance at the book. Ooohh… Fitzwilliam, pity please! I am trying to speak!” She grasped his head, pulling his mouth away from her neck so she could meet his eyes.
He grinned. “As you command, my love. You were saying?” He gave his attention but lightly caressed his hand over her hips and buttocks.
“I did note page five, but as for thirteen and twenty… I selected them at random. The first I saw the pictures was when you turned to them.”
He was honestly surprised. “How long have you had the book?” She told him the whole tale, how she had snuck down the morning after Christmas and found his note and examined all his mementos.
“I cannot believe you collected so many trinkets, William. You are so romantic and sentimental! I love this about you. Mostly I love that only I know this about you, and that you have shared yourself with me so completely. You amaze me.” He was blushing and she pulled his face to her, kissing him ardently.
“I still am stunned about the books,” he mumbled.
“Ridiculous man! Do you not yet comprehend how satisfied I am with you? I trust you to please me and teach me and be the leader. On occasion I shall surprise you, beloved, never fear. After all, I am the clever one, remember?”
He laughed and rolled onto his back, taking her along until her body was fully on top, embracing her tightly and wrapping her legs under his, squeezing her thighs. His hands traveled over her back and bottom as he kissed her probingly. “Lesson one, Elizabeth Darcy: Whenever you feel the urge, I am happy to submit to your dominance in our bed. As you did on our one-week anniversary and in your dressing room. I find it… intensely arousing.”
“Do you? This is good to know.” She rocked her hips into his, adoring the sensation of his firm muscles flexing along her outer thighs where he held her captive. She caressed his sides, gliding fingers along the solid ridges of his chest and abdomen as far as she could reach, squeezing and tickling, while she assaulted his neck. He moaned, one hand entangled in her hair as he inhaled her scent.
“Elizabeth, beautiful Elizabeth, my lover. I need you so.” Gently but clearly clutching her hair, he sought her lips. They kissed deeply, starved for each other’s breath and taste. Tongues mingled, lips suckling lips as they writhed against each other with passion rising. Darcy, always wondrously graceful in his power and strength, rolled and then rose to his knees with Elizabeth secure in his arms and nestled on his lap. Arms wound over his shoulders and hands flattened on his back, Lizzy nuzzled his neck and bestowed tiny bites.
“Precious love. My Lizzy.” He arched his neck, moaning and hugging her tight. “Remember page five, my heart?”
She giggled and focused on his expectant face. Playfully they loved, experimenting with the illustrations from the book, but mostly blissfully caught up with the sensations derived so lusciously from each other. Embracing tightly as they merged and moved in perfect unison.
“Fitzwilliam, my darling husband,” she whispered, glazed eyes locked. “I love you… I live for your love and touch… your eyes on me… your voice… your mouth… your skin…” Each phrase spaced as she kissed and caressed his chest and shoulders. “Your words of devotion… I so adore you!… I want you… so utterly you belong to me… and I to you… my soul.”
It was powerful; Darcy was amazed at his control and stamina in light of his wife’s wanton need. As expected, he was unable to withstand all three pages, but neither cared. Their release was blinding, leaving them both shaken and blissfully satiated.
Later they lay entwined, dozing in their happy exhaustion. Lizzy caressed his chest lazily, running the tips of her fingers through his hair, inhaling deeply of his masculine smell. “William?”
“Yes, beloved?”
“I am a little afraid of the books.”
“Afraid? I do not understand.”
“Do you ever wonder if our lovemaking will always be like this? Will we, perhaps… run out of new experiences or get bored?”
“No.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He was silent for a spell, collecting his thoughts. He understood this was one of those moments where, despite his previous inexperience, his overall maturity and worldliness gave him a certain wisdom she lacked. “Elizabeth, I will eternally love you and desire to make love to you. I know this for certain. Right now the activity is novel and perhaps that lends a dimension to it that will not be there twenty or thirty years from now.
“Yet by then our love will have grown stronger. We will have had children together, been through hardships, created memories, and built a marriage that is deep. We may not be tearing our clothes in passion or making love three times a day, although maybe we will,” he laughed and kissed her head, “yet when we do love each other it will, I believe, be stronger and more powerful, as can only occur between two souls who have bonded for so many years. This is how it is meant to be. Do you understand?”
He lightly grasped her chin and turned her face to his, surprised to see tears in her eyes. In alarm he cupped her cheeks and kissed her. “Beloved, please do not fear! I will always desire you, Elizabeth. We can discard the books if you wish.” She halted him with a kiss, long and deep.
“Why do you put up with me?” she finally said. “I am so silly and you are so wise!”
“Neither is true, Elizabeth,” he interrupted, “and I put up with you because I could not survive without you.” He kissed her eyes and then her nose before continuing. “Happy anniversary, my precious wife, today and every day for all my life I will love you and thank God He brought you to me. This I can assert with confidence.” He laughed softly as he stroked her hair and playfully nibbled her lips. “I have not tired of riding my horses after all these years, so how could I tire of riding you? You, precious Elizabeth, are profoundly superior.”
The preparations for the Ball consumed most of Lizzy’s thoughts. As the imminent event drew nearer, Lizzy’s original excitement and blasé attitude was replaced by a fair amount of nervousness. She was apprised of several facts regarding the Masque, which either calmed her or escalated her anxiety. Firstly, the annual Cole Twelfth Night Masquerade Ball was a Derbyshire extravaganza dating back more than fifty years and was the premier social affair.
The fact that the surpassingly eligible bachelor, the prime bull as he put it, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, had only deigned to attend four times since his coming of age was a minor scandal, viewed by some as a hideous breach of propriety. This philosophy signified the momentous weight ascribed to this singular celebration and Lizzy’s opportunity to make a positive impression as Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley. It was in no way vanity for her to rightfully surmise that all eyes would be on her for a variety of reasons.
Knowing this, Lizzy was uncertain whether she was happy or dismayed to discover that, although a “Masque,” few masks were worn. The tradition of actually attempting to disguise oneself in the relatively insular community of Derbyshire had long ago been deemed ludicrous. Therefore, the style had faded only to be affected by the more frivolous—usually single—attendees who sought an air of mystery.
Darcy had flatly refused even to consider wearing a mask, ever. Lizzy had initially been relieved, since the idea held no appeal to her either, yet as the import of the Ball registered fully upon her consciousness, the comfort of hiding behind a mask did seem providential!