“We shall talk later, my soul. There is so much to say, for me to apologize for…” She kissed him to halt the negation, stilling his shaking head with a gentle grip to his chin before leisurely rubbing downward toward his groin. “Right now I only want to show you how much I love you,” she whispered against his lips, “show that I am sorry, show that you are everything to me.” She suckled along his jaw to earlobe, voice husky amid his rising moans. “I want to renew our bond, bring you pleasure as you have me, give and give until you cry with joy. Please, Fitzwilliam! Let me love you!”
Darcy absorbed every word through the mists of heightened ardor, his body rocking and trembling in response to her tactile stimulation. Crashing sensations burned stupendously and clouded his senses. The trials of the past months faded into nothingness. She was here, beside him, electrifying every nerve, filling his heart with healing phrases far more beautiful than the fervor of their mutual lust.
She released his hands, the shirt falling forgotten to the floor, and he instantly grasped her tightly. Ravenous hands explored the contours of her shape, kneading and stroking, reacquainting themselves with the beloved flesh as familiar to him as his own.
Lizzy drew away, standing as Darcy wheezed No! But she only spared a moment, the robe falling in a puddle at her feet, before straddling his thighs and merging in one smooth motion. They simultaneously expelled loud sighs of pleasure and then laughed. Darcy sat up partway, clutching her to his chest and cupping her face as she began to sway with a rhythm as old as time, yet forever satisfying.
He kept her close, lips and noses touching, eyes locked with heated passion blazing. The furious, maniacal urgency of a few moments ago waned somewhat in the gratification of feeling the other’s body surrounding. They absorbed the flowing energy and mutual love with no desire to rush the experience.
“I love you, my wife.”
“I love you, my husband.”
The endearments and affirmations fell interspersed with nuzzles and fondles. The pace quickened after long minutes of temperate loving, finally culminating with blinding rapture. They fell to the sofa, harsh gasps echoing through the room and sweat glistening flesh heaving as they clung together.
Lizzy buried her face in his neck, sobs of joy caught in her throat. I will not cry! I am done with tears! She breathed deeply of his masculine scent, that magnificent mixture of woodsy cologne, musky perspiration, and some unidentifiable aroma only present when they made love. It soothed her.
In time their hearts returned to fairly normal paces. Darcy moved then, shifting until her face was near his, fingers stroking lightly over her cheek. He smiled, eyes radiant and shining, his voice rich with throbbing emotion. “There is nothing to talk about, Elizabeth, if you say again that you love me.”
She laughed breathily, the last vestiges of anxiety releasing in a gush. “With all my heart I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, now and for all eternity.”
His grin was enormous, dazzling her senses seconds before he kissed her, rolling toward the back of the sofa as he embraced her so securely she could barely breathe. Yet before the need for oxygen invaded the fantastic delight of his lips, he released her, rolling and rising to his feet in one graceful motion. She propped on an elbow, admiring unabashedly as he fastened his trousers and bent for the discarded quilt. A second later she was enveloped in the material and swooped into his arms heading for the door.
“Where are you taking me?” she teased, tenderly biting along his neck and utterly indifferent to her naked dangling feet and bare shoulders—not that it was likely they would encounter anyone in the middle of the night.
“To our bed where I intend to kiss every inch of your skin and make love to you again and again until you fall asleep exhausted and satiated in my arms. Then I intend to keep you there for at least one or two whole days and do the entire procedure over again. Numerous times. Does this meet with your approval?”
“Indeed it does.”
He was serious, adhering to his promise with gleeful dominance, not that Lizzy argued the matter. It was a welcome respite, in fact. In an uncharacteristic display of laziness, Lizzy barely left the bed for a week. Darcy was there every minute, frequently expressing his happiness in a physical way, but also joyously assuming care of Michael. Father and son’s relationship flourished during those days, Darcy falling deeply in love with the three-month-old whose unique personality was swiftly emerging. Alexander joined them, the family of four playing together on the large bed for long hours at a time.
On Christmas Eve the foursome gathered in the upper story bedchamber after dining with their guests. Darcy read the nativity poems of Henry Vaughan and the first Christmas story from the Bible until both boys were soundly asleep. He sat the Bible aside and glanced to Lizzy, who was barely awake and propped half reclining with Michael curled against her chest. No words were spoken but communication was clear. He smiled, brushing lightly over her cheek before leaning to extinguish the bedside lamp, and then drew Alexander into his embrace. They slept as a family, unknowingly beginning a tradition that would carry down through the years.
Christmas came, Lizzy’s crazed planning paying off in a lavish celebration with local friends that could now fully be enjoyed. Everyone noted the restoration to the Lizzy they had grown to love, although no one commented of course.
Nevertheless, Lizzy’s full recovery from the strange illness that had beset her was gradual. There were moments after their heavenly reunion when emotions and melancholy assaulted her. Thankfully, they rapidly receded both in frequency and intensity. Darcy was never far from her side, his attentiveness more acute than typical and welcomed by Lizzy. George insisted on administering the special herbals and dietary requirements to reestablish the balance to her body, but as he had suspected, reuniting with her husband was the best medicine.
By the time they packed up their belongings and two children for the trip to Netherfield for the event of Kitty Bennet’s wedding, Lizzy’s symptoms were eradicated and she was her old self in every way. The mutual love the young family innately possessed was more than adequate to overcome the months of hardship.
As with many such trials one faces in life, this was one they would never forget or wish to repeat; yet they could not deny that further lessons were learned and their bond was stronger as a result.
Chapter Seven
Again at Netherfield
“Where are you two boys off to?”
Darcy turned toward his wife. “Nowhere in particular…”
“The stables!” interrupted the ringing voice above his head.
Lizzy laughed, glancing at her sheepish husband before gazing into the shining eyes of Alexander, perched on Darcy’s shoulders. “Well, it is nice to know you have learned the lesson of honesty, Alexander.”
“We plan to start in the stables, but one never knows where one may end up. That is all I meant,” Darcy intoned with a straight face, reaching to tickle Michael, who was waving every limb in wild mirth from his comfortable roost in Lizzy’s arms.
“Of course. Alexander, you understand that Xerxes is not here but home at Pemberley with the other ponies?”
“Yes, Mama. Papa say we ride Moon.”
“Oh, did he now?” She looked sharply at her spouse, who was now making faces at a giggling Michael. “Do you really think this wise, Fitzwilliam?”
“Moon is as docile as old Sheba. We will only be walking around the yard. Nothing more, I promise, and he will be on my lap. I will hold on very tight, dearest. You need not worry.” He bent to kiss her on the cheek, securely clasping Alexander’s legs to his chest, and then blew into Michael’s neck, sending the baby into fresh gales of laughter.