Darcy lifted her in his arms, his lips pressing the curve of her neck. “Elizabeth,” he gasped, “I need you—I need you desperately!” Then, with urgency, he pressed her back against the wall and drove his hard length into her with a shuddering cry. Elizabeth clung to him as he possessed her.
His fevered urgency sent a thrill through her that served only to push her own desire to new heights. Far sooner than she had anticipated, Elizabeth felt the beginning of her release. Her muscles tightened around Darcy’s arousal, and as Darcy could not stop himself from moaning words of passion and desire in her ear, she soon surrendered to the feelings of bliss that coursed through her body.
For Darcy, who had watched his Elizabeth laugh and dance with countless handsome and engaging men for half the night, whose feral need to possess her, to mark her as his and his alone was driving him mad, it was the point of no return. In the next moment, he found his completion with a violent thrust and a primal groan as he spilled his seed into her.
Darcy’s legs gave way, and he quickly maneuvered to support his wife as he sank to his knees, his breathing rapid, his heart pounding furiously within his breast. He clasped Elizabeth to him as he struggled to regulate his breathing.
After several minutes of silence, she laughed softly. “I believe, sir, it is safe to assume we have missed the Supper Dance.”
Darcy smiled and kissed her, teasing her lips apart with his tongue. When he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I am sorry,” he said. “It was not my intention to forego any of my dances with you tonight.”
She raised a hand and stroked his cheek. “I know,” she said, “but you were hardly in a frame of mind fit for dancing. Please tell me you are better now.”
Darcy kissed her again, his lips a soft caress. “I am, thank you… although, I believe I owe you an apology. I never should have treated you thus, especially in the middle of a ball given in our honor. I hope I have not hurt you in any way.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I believe I am hardly complaining, Fitzwilliam.”
“No,” he said, “however, we will very likely be missed soon, and I would not wish for the truth as to why we were absent from the Supper Dance to become generally known.”
“No, I would imagine not.” Elizabeth grinned and rose, straightening her gown and checking her appearance in a mirror upon the wall while Darcy made himself presentable. When he had done, he refastened the buttons on her gown, and she ran her hands through his hair, coaxing his curls back into place. “There,” she declared. “Now you look every inch the handsome gentleman once again.”
Darcy frowned and made to run his hand through his hair to dispel some of the agitation he felt at her words. Elizabeth stopped him before he could cause any damage and gave him a questioning look. “You must think me an insecure beast to take advantage of you in such a way,” he muttered.
Elizabeth caught his face between her gloved hands and forced his eyes to meet hers. “No,” she said in a gentle voice. “I think only that my husband, whom I love more than any other on this earth, must love me to distraction. Believe it or not, Fitzwilliam, though your jealousy is not something I can condone, it is something I can, and do, understand. You have nothing to fear, my love. There is nothing that could ever make me turn from you.” To emphasize her point, she kissed him with no small degree of feeling. “Come,” she finally said as she laid her hand upon her waist, now slightly thickened from pregnancy, “I am hungry, and I daresay so is this little one of ours.”
Darcy gathered her in his arms, his hand caressing her stomach. “Of course, Mrs. Darcy,” he said with a small, pleased smile. “Let us find something with which to tempt you both. You must keep up your strength. I would not have you starve on my account.”
Elizabeth smiled and smoothed a curl from his forehead. “I know not of our child, Fitzwilliam, but I do believe I have quite enough to tempt me right here. I doubt I would ever starve with you to care for me.” She sighed. “I do love you so, my dearest. Never question it.”
Darcy swallowed and ran his fingers over the softness of her cheek, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “For as long as I live, Elizabeth, I never shall.”
The rest of the evening passed without incident. Other than an appraising look, a pointed cough, and a raised brow from Lord Matlock when Darcy and Elizabeth finally made an appearance at supper, their cheeks flushed and their skin glowing, no mention was made of their absence. It was generally noted, however, that Darcy’s sour demeanor seemed to have improved significantly. Rather than scowling at the many remaining gentlemen who were fortunate enough to partner his wife for the second half of the night, he focused his undivided attention upon her alone, his mouth turned up in the barest hint of a private smile whenever their eyes met as she went down the dance.
Elizabeth made sure their eyes met often.
Between sets, Lady Matlock took Elizabeth around to all of the notable dowagers and other esteemed guests in attendance. When questioned, Elizabeth spoke easily of her family and of her father’s estate in Hertfordshire, of her interest in books, philosophy, and music, and, to those who had the audacity to inquire, of her fondness for her husband. She happened to be speaking with Lady Sowersby and Lady Malcolm, both of whom had fast become her avid champions, when Jane and Bingley joined them and, shortly thereafter, the Gardiners. It was not long before their group was engaged in a lively discourse, to the very great satisfaction of Lady Matlock. It was obvious the two dowagers were equally as impressed by Jane as they had been by Elizabeth, and pleased, as well, by the intelligence and elegant manners of their Cheapside relations.
Through it all, Darcy stood beside Elizabeth with his hands clasped behind his back. He was itching to reach out and caress her, to feel the curve of her waist through the buttery yellow silk of her gown. He did not dare attempt it, not after the pointed look his uncle had given him at supper. Instead, he put forth a valiant effort and focused his attention upon the conversation at hand. He could not help but smile at his wife’s keen wit and easy manners while in the company of two such exalted persons as Lady Malcolm and Lady Sowersby. Darcy was extremely pleased to see Lady Malcolm, who was well known throughout the first circles for her biting sarcasm and discerning intellect, delighted to have found in the new Mrs. Darcy an equally discerning and witty companion.
His smile increased when the first strains of a waltz floated through the room, and as the conversation between the ladies did not wane, Darcy cleared his throat. “Pardon my interruption, but I do believe, Mrs. Darcy, you have promised this particular dance to me,” he said as he fought to conceal the grin that was threatening to overspread his features.
Lady Sowersby smiled indulgently. Lady Malcolm, however, gave him a wry look and said, “Upon my word, Fitzwilliam, I have never before seen you thus. This newfound eagerness for the dance is extraordinary, or perhaps it is your eagerness for the company of your pretty young wife that makes you so willing to partake of an act that has never before afforded you much pleasure?”
To Elizabeth’s delight, Darcy blushed as he answered, “What you say is quite true, your ladyship. I believe I had only to find the perfect partner to transform the act from an odious chore to an unrivalled pleasure.” Then, with a sly glance at Elizabeth and a rakish grin, he added, “Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse us, I have long desired to dance while holding my wife in my arms, and I am loath to pass up the opportunity to do so now.” Elizabeth colored and then laughed, her pleasure in her husband’s affection apparent to all.