He rose, grinning lecherously and rolling a nipple between his thumb and finger. “Naked and inside you as often as humanly possible, which lately, to my happy shock, seems to be frequently possible.”
She squirmed, pressing his hand hard into her breast. “Tell me more of this cabin so I can dream of us there.”
“It is in east Hampshire, so will not take us long to get there, thank God. It is owned by a buddy of mine; it is a hunting lodge actually. Small and quaint, but comfortable. I have been there many times. We will have two weeks totally alone, not even any servants. It has been prepared with everything we will need and no one, especially none of my brothers, knows about it. Paradise, it is. Or will be with you there.”
“It does sound heavenly. How about we stay there for the entire month and forget about Bath?”
He laughed, rolling onto his back with her atop. With a simple shift of position and smooth thrust they were already in heaven.
At noon the next day Randall drove the phaeton to Longbourn, needing this time alone with her. As soon as they were out of the sight of Netherfield Kitty leaned against his side, her intention just to be soothed by his closeness, but the sensation of flexing arm and leg muscles as he controlled the horses had the opposite effect.
“Up ahead there is an entire copse of bushes, Major General. Care to inspect them?”
“They look to be lovely bushes, Miss Bennet, but any inspection shall have to wait.” He glanced at her dimpled face, smiling and giving a quick peck to her nose. “I have decided to salvage what remnants of control and decorum I possess and behave in a manner befitting an officer and a gentleman. Then again, maybe I am simply imagining how incredible our wedding night will be after three days without you.”
“It will be incredible in any case, because then I will be yours completely, in every way, and you will be mine.” She stretched to kiss across his jaw while one hand tickled up the inside of his thigh. Randall groaned and gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. Just as he began to think the copse would be inspected after all, resolutions be damned, she withdrew, sliding over the seat as far as possible. “But you are correct, on all counts. I will remember that I am a proper young lady with a measure of restraint in there somewhere. I shall be good, I promise,” she finished, her smirk contradicting that claim.
“After we are married you can forget that promise.”
Her answer was laughter.
The days passed pleasantly with none of the drama Darcy had feared. The local gentlemen of Meryton welcomed the visitors with open arms, offering a wealth of diversions both day and night. Sir Lucas organized an impromptu tournament of games at the pub with Darcy again proving his superiority at billiards while Richard soundly trounced everyone at darts. Area families of distinction held dinner parties every night, Netherfield included one other time. Through all of this activity Wickham conducted himself with the utmost civility. He frequently was not present, his time spent in amusements unknown. Yet when he was present he was polite, charming, and strangely unobtrusive, fading into the background and doing nothing to draw attention.
Darcy managed to douse his rage over Wickham. His natural levelheadedness and self-discipline were too immense to falter for long. The few times Wickham was in his presence Darcy ignored him, by all appearances indifferent. But he noticed everything, observed his enemy’s tiniest gesture or expression, and listened to each nuance in his words. It was subtle, but in those times when the family interacted, Darcy’s hulking proximity to Lizzy and their children was a strong deterrent to Wickham attempting any contact, if he was thinking along those lines, which he gave no indication of.
Daily Lizzy was reminded to be cautious and nightly she was quizzed regarding any accidental confrontations. She strived to halt the instinctive eye rolling, especially when Wickham seemed to be politeness itself and paid neither her nor Georgiana particular mind besides the normal deference. Lizzy did not agree with Darcy’s apprehension, but she knew it was real to him. The constant fretting over his loved ones while pretending serenity was deeply fatiguing and disturbed his sleep, this paining Lizzy greatly and causing her to wish the wedding was sooner so they could depart for London and leave the Wickhams behind.
The day before the wedding she drove Netherfield’s curricle back to their temporary home after a morning at Longbourn. Michael, mesmerized by his brother’s delighted grin and wind-tossed curls, was nestled in the sturdy basket secured on the wide seat between Lizzy and Alexander. The two-and-a-half-year-old was thrilled by the experience, even if they were crawling along at a turtle’s pace.
“Hold on tightly, Alexander. Keep your hands on the rails.”
The admonition was redundant, of course, as Alexander was one of those rare children who followed rules to the letter. Keeping her focus between the well-maintained avenue and her sunnily grinning son, she did not note the approach of a rider until the horse pulled alongside the passenger seat. Alexander turned his bright face to the mounted man, who smiled in return and tipped his hat.
“Master Darcy,” he greeted, looking then to Lizzy. “Mrs. Darcy.”
“Mr. Wickham,” she returned in a level tone.
“I was returning to Longbourn when I saw you leaving, so I followed. We have had no opportunities to converse privately.”
“I have no desire to converse privately with you, Mr. Wickham. Nor would my husband appreciate you accosting me on the road.”
“Ah yes, Darcy. He always did have an overdeveloped sense of control. Of course, I suppose one could argue that that desire to dominate is essential to the Master of Pemberley.”
“Mr. Wickham, I will not allow you to insult Mr. Darcy in front of me and his children.”
He inclined his head. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I meant no disrespect, truly.” He looked at Alexander, whose smile was beginning to fade from the sensed hostility between the two adults. “I remember a time when Darcy smiled more, laughing and playing as a boy. Your son looks so like him. Rather uncanny.” He looked again to Lizzy. “I think you, Elizabeth, would have preferred that Darcy. The one who was jovial and free spirited, before he grew so serious and dictatorial. That is all I meant.”
“Mr. Wickham, let me be clear. I appreciate my husband precisely as he is and would not prefer him any other way.”
He shrugged, sunny smile in place. “If you say so, Elizabeth. It still baffles me, I confess. The Darcy I know is completely unsuited to you and I admit I have puzzled over the subject since I heard of your marriage. Was it obligation, Elizabeth? You felt you had to marry him after he ‘saved’ your sister from the bad man who compromised her? I know he regarded you at one time but never would have imagined him stooping to marry…”
“Mr. Wickham,” she interrupted, glancing to Alexander. “You do not know me in the slightest or Mr. Darcy. I will not listen to your poison, now or ever. Furthermore, I would appreciate it if you would not address me so informally.”
“Just curious, forgive me. And are we not brother and sister? You can call me George.”
“I think not, Mr. Wickham.” She stressed his name, turning a glare his way. “And as for being your sister, that is a fact I would rather not be reminded of!”
“What a pity. Indeed, I had hoped that your gaiety and plucky wit would have rubbed off on the old man, brought some lightness to his personality. Quite the shame to see it has worked the other way around.”
“Mr. Wickham…”
“Very well then,” he interrupted her angry rebuttal, his own voice and expression abruptly gay with dimples flashing. “We shall change the subject. I must confess it is lovely here in Hertfordshire. I am delighted to be back. Devon tends to be cloudy. And the wind!” He shivered dramatically, winking at Alexander. “At times I fear it may blow me out to sea! Have you felt such winds as that, lad?”