“Care to join me, my love?” she asked with upturned face and presented lips.
Darcy bent, accepting her invitation wholeheartedly, only to have her gift abruptly nullified by a jaw-cracking yawn. He chuckled against her mouth, withdrawing inches and caressing her rosy cheek. “Thank you for the offer, dearest, but I think I shall put you both to bed.” He bussed her nose, whirling her about gently, and with a pat on the bottom assisted her into the bed. Sitting next to her warm body, he noticed not for the first time the increased inability to nestle snuggly against the front part of her. Not that he in any way was perturbed by this, joyously settling as close as feasible and resting a large hand over their child. He was extremely active at the present, kicking and jabbing his father's hand with great enthusiasm.
“I do not believe he appreciated the pickled herring,” Lizzy mumbled, eyes already slipping closed. “He has been pummeling me since lunch.”
Darcy laughed softly, leaning until his mouth rested over Lizzy's flattening navel. “Listen carefully, young one. Your father commands you to behave and allow your mother to rest. She promises to never consume pickled herring again. Be a good boy now and sleep.” He continued on, Lizzy smiling at his silliness while the baby apparently disregarded his father's authority, exercise unabating. Internal calisthenics were not a deterrent to Lizzy's slumber after all, sleep claiming her within minutes. Darcy gently massaged her belly, sitting in serene contemplation for a bit before rising. After a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered I love you, he retrieved his book from the table and left the room.
The main patio was cast in deep shadows this time of day and nearly vacant. The men were bathing, but Darcy opted to enjoy the solitude. The book, Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe, sat open on his knees, forgotten for the moment as he watched the waves and a group of children splashing.
“Mr. Darcy. I am surprised to see you here all alone and not bathing with the gentlemen.”
Darcy glanced upward with a start, rising and bowing elegantly. “Lady Underwood. I trust you are well today and enjoying your visit?”
“Tolerably,” she said with a smile, sitting gracefully on an empty chair across from Darcy. “It can be boring and somewhat lonely to travel unaccompanied, but I refuse to be a burden to my friends. Please sit, Mr. Darcy. No need to stand at attention.” She smiled sweetly, fluttering her fan toward his chair.
Darcy hesitated, uncomfortably glancing about to ensure they were not alone, before resuming his seat. He sat with back ramrod straight, his bottom on the extreme edge, ready to spring up at the first opportunity for escape.
Lady Underwood laughed. “Relax, Mr. Darcy! I shan't bite, promise. Where is Mrs. Darcy, by the way?”
“She is resting.”
Lady Underwood fanned her face, staring boldly at Darcy with a pensive expression. “Have you been married long, Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy stiffened even further, meeting her eyes with studied indifference. “Nearly a year.”
“I must say I was surprised to see a woman so advanced in her pregnancy traveling. Few men would wish to squire their wives about in such a state. It is impressive and… touching.”
Darcy remained silent, countenance impassive as he returned his gaze to the waves. Lady Underwood continued, “The two of you seem to have an unusual relationship. At least unusual compared to most I have observed. It intrigues me.”
“Lady Underwood, forgive my rudeness, but I do not wish to discuss my personal relationship.”
To his surprise, she laughed. “As you wish, Mr. Darcy. I meant no offense.”
Silence fell. Lady Underwood eventually filled the quiet with casual chatter, Darcy responding in mostly monosyllables. Another fifteen minutes passed, Darcy wound tighter than a coil. Just as he prepared to excuse himself, Lady Underwood rose, lowering her voice seductively and leaning toward him. “Your wife is an adorable creature and I can certainly understand the attraction. Nonetheless, I know how difficult it can be for some men when their wives are in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Traveling unescorted does have its advantages, Mr. Darcy, but it gets lonely. Very lonely. Perhaps we can help each other.”
The expression of disgust with flinty blue eyes leveled at her face caused Lady Underwood to retreat a step. Darcy said nothing, but his answer was clear. Still, she smiled, shrugging slightly. “Merely an offer, Mr. Darcy. Think about it. Have a lovely evening.”
Darcy shuddered, rising quickly once she was gone, heart pounding with the need to touch his wife. He was not overly stunned by Lady Underwood's proposition, having been the recipient of similar sexual solicitations more times than he could recall, all of which revolted him and were never accepted. As disdainful as he considered the practice, he knew it was common. Nonetheless, he always felt dirty when accosted, but never more than now that he was married.
Elizabeth slept, face relaxed and gloriously beautiful. Darcy removed his jacket, waistcoat, and boots, cautiously nestling against her back. Lizzy sighed, murmured his name, and melted into his embrace without waking. He did not sleep, but held her close and tranquil for the next hour, renewed and cleansed in her presence. Only when she began to stir slightly with the familiar shifting cadence to her respirations indicative of pending wakefulness did he release the top buttons of her gown and slide a hand in to cup one ripe, warm breast. Squeezing tenderly and playing with a pert nipple, he feathered kisses along the nape of her neck. He was not yet aroused, instead merely delighting in the joy of holding her and knowing that eternally she would be his to love and talk with and share his soul.
Lizzy rolled in his arms with a heady sigh, sleepy eyes meeting his. His hand resumed its pleasure at her breast, the other stroking a now exposed shoulder. “I did not anticipate you being here when I awoke. It is a most pleasant surprise.”
He smiled brilliantly in response, the dazzling smile only given to Lizzy with all his pearly teeth flashing and faint dimples appearing; the smile that extended into his eyes, blue orbs so crystalline as to nearly be transparent, sparkling, and shining so brightly that she could see a tiny image of her face in the mirror-like surface. Her breath caught at the boundless adoration and cavernous love reflected therein.
“I love you, William, with all my soul!”
“I love you, my Elizabeth. You are my soul, my blood and bone, my very life.” He continued to stare at her, fondling her breasts but making no other moves, content to gaze at her for the present. Lizzy stared in return, hands slowly stroking over his body, as content as he to allow passion to gradually rise on the wings of idolization.
It could have been ten minutes, perhaps an hour, but eventually his shirt was discarded and her buttons were released with lips following the line of exposed flesh. Darcy tasted her, relishing the mildly salty flavor and musky odor of her skin. Mostly he thrilled at the soft mews of pleasure passing her lips and the rushing heat flushing her skin wherever he touched. Her breasts swelled and hardened under his hands and mouth. She tensed and shivered continually, the passage of time only heightening her response to his ministrations. Endlessly she murmured his name, driving him insane with desire and happiness.
Over the swell of their child, peacefully at rest, Darcy devotedly worshipped. He loved her belly, firm in its expansion yet remarkably soft; the outward shape changing as the baby shifted or as she moved. Each time they loved he asked if it was uncomfortable, especially with his large frame on top, but she insisted all was well as of yet. He gloried in this, fervidly excited by the sensation of their child pressed into his abdomen when they made love. If the growing bulk intruded somewhat, it mattered little to him, the emotional rapture in this tangible evidence of their love far superior. Now, he kissed over the perfectly stretched flesh, licking her navel and making her giggle, kneading gently before traveling lower.