Darcy searched the room for Elizabeth. He discovered her standing apart from her family at one of the large windows overlooking the street; her distress was obvious by the manner in which her hands twisted the material of her gown. Greatly affected, Darcy joined her. “You have been very quiet tonight, my love.”
Elizabeth turned to him and gave him a half-hearted smile. “I am fine, Fitzwilliam. I am only a little tired. I was thinking of retiring soon. I am afraid I will not be suitable company tonight.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “I was hoping to have a moment alone with you, Elizabeth. We have not yet had any time to ourselves today, and I find myself desirous of your presence.”
Elizabeth lowered her eyes. “And I am very much in need of yours,” she murmured as she took his hand between both her own.
Darcy glanced about the room. All her family appeared to be well entertained for the moment. “Will you come to me tonight?” he whispered as he moved a curl from her face. “I have some matters of business I must see to in my study. I will be there until very late. Please say you will come.”
His eyes beseeched her to agree, and without so much as a second thought, Elizabeth nodded.
It was just past one o’clock in the morning when Elizabeth finally joined Darcy in his study. She found him seated behind his mahogany desk, going over pages of documents. When his gaze lit on her, he laid them aside and smiled. She ran to him, and in the very next instant, Darcy pulled Elizabeth onto his lap and enveloped her in his arms, cradling her in his embrace. She sighed as some of the tension from her unpleasant day melted away.
“Fitzwilliam,” she murmured as she circled her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in the fabric of his cravat. “I have missed you.” She could not help but inhale his distinct, masculine scent. He smelled wonderful, like sandalwood and black pepper. How she loved the smell of him and the feel of his comforting presence!
“And I, you,” he murmured as he placed a lingering kiss upon the curve of her neck. “May I take your hair down?”
She inclined her head, and Darcy removed the decorative pins from her dark locks. As he pulled out the last pin, Elizabeth’s hair fell like a rich veil to well below the middle of her back. His breath caught, and he buried his fingers deep within the silken depths of her curls.
Elizabeth snuggled against him, breathing deeply as she enjoyed the feel of his fingers moving through her hair. She found it soothed her, just as it had when her maid would brush her hair many years before, when she was still but a girl. Before Elizabeth could stop herself, she almost shyly asked Darcy whether he would mind performing that same task for her now.
He was pleasantly surprised by her request and most eager to comply. He hastened to retrieve a beautiful silver-plated brush he had only recently purchased, engraved with an elegant, flowing E.D., from a locked drawer in his desk. He took a seat closer to the fire and settled Elizabeth upon his lap, this time with her back to him, as he ran the brush through her curls with care.
Elizabeth relaxed under his tender ministrations, and her gaze began to roam over the many objects in Darcy’s study. It occurred to her then that this was his inner sanctum, his refuge, much the same as her father’s small library was to him. She could not help but admire the understated elegance of her future husband’s good taste.
“You have a wonderful home, Fitzwilliam. It is tasteful and refined while being comfortable, and not the least bit ostentatious. I know I am going to enjoy living here very much, but only because you and Georgiana will be here, as well, and I shall be able to awake every morning in your arms. Apart from the theatre and the opera, I confess London society holds very little allure for me. I believe I will need to seek refuge in your excellent library quite often, sir, preferably with you to keep me company.”
Darcy placed a lingering kiss upon her hair and said, “Our library, Elizabeth. It is now your home, as well, and you can change anything you wish in order to make yourself more comfortable.”
She shook her head. “I have no wish to change anything, and until we are happily married, I shall be perfectly content with being no more than a guest in your home.”
Darcy placed the brush upon an end table and shifted so he could look deeply into Elizabeth’s eyes. He caressed the softness of her cheek, his voice tinged with emotion as he whispered, “In my heart, Elizabeth, you are already my wife. Surely, you know that?”
Her breath caught in her throat as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Cradling his face in her hands, she drew his mouth slowly toward her own, stopping just short of their lips touching. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. “You can have no idea how very much I was in need of hearing you speak such words to me tonight.”
Their lips met with a tenderness that soon threatened to overwhelm them both, and as Elizabeth felt her body begin to tremble from the strength of her emotions, Darcy lifted her in his arms and carried her toward the fire. He laid her with care upon the carpet, where he joined her after removing his waistcoat and his riding boots. Then he began to work the buttons on her gown free, his gaze never leaving her eyes, not even for a moment.
Once Elizabeth was fully unclothed, her curls framing her face as she lay before him upon the carpet, Darcy took his time to tease her body with his lips, his tongue, and his hands, lingering along those areas of her flesh he knew to be most receptive to his caresses. Not until after Darcy heard her soft cries and felt her body begin to writhe under his touch did he dare permit himself to give any thought to his own ardor.
Darcy traced her nipple with his tongue as he massaged the small, sensitive pearl between her thighs with his finger. She was slippery and wet, indicating her readiness just as much as the muffled sounds Elizabeth moaned against his lips. Darcy pulled his head back and stared at her, mesmerized, unable to tear his gaze from her beauty, longing to bring her over the edge and into the abyss of ultimate release. Suddenly, Elizabeth’s back began to arch, and her lovely body shuddered violently as he brought her to her completion. When she stilled, Darcy returned his mouth to hers as she assisted him with the buttons on his shirt and breeches.
He entered her slowly and began to move with smooth, long strokes he knew would encourage Elizabeth’s desire to build again quickly. As he increased his rhythm and felt the delicious heat begin to supplant every other awareness, Elizabeth matched his frenzied movements with her own, drawing small grunts of satisfaction from Darcy every time they met.
They pushed their passion for each other ever faster, ever deeper until, with one final thrust, they spiraled into a pulsating oblivion of insurmountable pleasure.
They lay spent, languid and content in each other’s arms, their limbs entwined as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Elizabeth ran her fingertips over his bare chest as Darcy’s hand played with her hair. She gazed up at him and noticed a distant look in his eyes. “Fitzwilliam?” she asked softly.
“Mmm?”
“You seem far away. Is everything well?”
Darcy placed a lingering kiss upon her swollen lips and stroked her arm. “Yes. I am very well, my love. There is nowhere else I would rather be.” He tightened his hold on her and settled into silence once more.
Though Elizabeth did not doubt the sincerity of his words, she was still not convinced his mind was completely free from anxiety. They remained silent for a while. Finally, Elizabeth said, “Your family seemed very nice. I especially liked your aunt. She is a very clever woman, and I enjoyed talking with her very much.”