In the next room, Darcy was similarly preoccupied as he carefully reviewed in his mind his plans for the night. He had given the question of how to approach Elizabeth a great deal of thought—after all, it had been one of his favorite subjects for consideration for some time—and had concluded that his greatest challenge was to be patient and gentle when his every instinct was craving immediate satisfaction. He had been present over the years at enough late-night conversations at his club—not to mention a few carefully placed words of advice from Mr. Gardiner—to be aware that for a protected, gently bred young woman the wedding night offered potential for an unpleasant experience, and he was determined that his passionate and responsive Elizabeth should have no reason after this night to be any less passionate or responsive.
Taking his planning down to great detail, he had decided that it might be a little too disconcerting for Elizabeth to see him this first time in his nightshirt and robes. He had determined that he would approach her in his shirt and breeches, which might be less shocking.
Unfortunately, there was only so far that planning could take him, and then he had to face the uncertain realities of the situation. This is it, man, he told himself, this is what you have been waiting for these many months. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the adjoining door to her room and knocked lightly.
Hearing her soft voice bidding him enter, he opened the door to see her sitting at her vanity brushing out her hair. The sight of her in her nightclothes, her dark hair loose around her shoulders as he had so often imagined, nearly made him dizzy with desire at the thought of being alone with her and uninterrupted. He leaned a hand against the doorframe for support as he drank in the picture for a moment, then walked over to stand behind her chair, resting his hands lightly on her shoulders.
They regarded one another in the mirror for a moment, then Elizabeth smiled and placed her hand affectionately over one of his, and was rewarded by the warm look in his eyes. He looked devastatingly attractive unencumbered by waistcoat, tailcoat, and cravat, his shirt open slightly at the neck, and she found that her mouth was becoming dry.
He ran his fingers gently through her hair as he had so long desired to do. “You look very beautiful tonight, my love,” he said softly. He gathered her hair in his hand, and, moving it to one side, leaned over and gently kissed the nape of her neck.
It was unfair that his every touch had such power to stir her, she thought as he moved his lips along her exposed neck. Sensation built up in Elizabeth as he enjoyed the taste of her delicate skin. His mind tried to leap ahead to all the other ways he planned to enjoy her, but he firmly reined himself in, the only visible sign of his struggle being a slight tightening of his hands on her shoulder. With deliberation, he gently moved aside her robe to expose part of her shoulder in a symbolic disrobement, attending carefully to see how she responded. She remained still, but in the mirror he could see that her lips were parted, and he could feel the shallowness of her breathing. Pleased, he allowed his lips to explore the area his fingers had discovered.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, was astonished by the sensations he was creating. She had thought herself already aware of how powerfully his touch could move her, but as he had slipped his fingers under the edge of her nightgown, the depth of her awareness of his touch had threatened to overwhelm her. She gripped the arms of her chair, and Darcy, sensing her response, allowed his lips to linger in the hollows of her shoulder.
She shivered, and he raised his head to look at her in concern, hoping she was feeling no fear. His eyes silently asked her for permission to continue, and in response, unable to tolerate being only the passive recipient of his touch any longer, she turned her head and drew his mouth down to hers with a hunger that could not be denied. He tasted the delight of her lips, and incapable of being as patient for her touch as he wished, drew her to her feet and into his arms. She felt a shock at her awareness of his body against hers, augmented by the absence of his coat; now she could feel the shape and strength of his broad shoulders, and it aroused her profoundly and made her long for more.
“Elizabeth, my Elizabeth,” he murmured as he once again took possession of her mouth. As if able to hear her desires, his hands slid down to the belt of her dressing gown and untied it with fingers that felt suddenly clumsy. Unable to deny himself, he slipped his hands between her robe and her nightgown and caressed her back, delighting in the feel of the nooks and crannies that the fine fabric did not disguise.
With a moan of pleasure, she arched herself against him. He continued to stroke his hands along her body, exploring curves he had only dreamed of. There was no more room for fear; she felt driven by pure sensation. She whispered his name in a plea for she knew not what, and, sensing her surrender to her own desires, his own self-control slipped even further. He stepped back just far enough to lift the robe off her shoulders and let it slide to the ground, allowing him to admire her form, little disguised by her nightgown.
The scrutiny of his eyes was not enough to meet Elizabeth’s longing. Feeling momentarily bereft of his touch, her instincts led her to run her hands down his chest, arousing him powerfully, until, no longer able to resist his own need to feel her touch, he covered her hands with his own and slid them under his shirt. Hearing her gasp, the thought penetrated his passion-hazed mind that perhaps he had pushed her too quickly, but as her hands began their own delightful exploration, it became clear the only shock was one of intense pleasure. Elizabeth, stunned by the intimate sensation of his warm skin under her fingers, let her hands explore his back as she pressed herself against him, her body craving the pleasure only he could give her.
The sweet torture of her touch aroused him even beyond what he had expected. His need for her grew as he felt her soft body against him, and, knowing he could wait no longer, he gave in to temptation and finally let his hands move upward and untied the drawstring of the last remaining impediment to his beloved Elizabeth.
Darcy awoke the next morning to a pleasant feeling of warmth. His heart stilled as he saw Elizabeth’s sleeping face next to his, a small smile of contentment curving her lips, and her dark hair spread across the pillow and drifting onto his chest. It is not often one has the opportunity to see one’s dreams turn into reality, he thought dreamily. With his eyes he traced the lines of her beloved face, and thought how privileged he was to be able to wake up with such a bewitching woman beside him.
Falling asleep with her in his arms had been quite extraordinary as well, he thought. His mind drifted to the events of the previous night, and he smiled to think of the delight they had found together, the intense pleasure he had taken in helping her to discover the surprises her body had in store for her. Her responsiveness had been everything he hoped for and more, and it was with the greatest of satisfaction that he recalled their explorations and how they led to the moment when her desire and pleasure had equaled his own. The look of wonder on her face after he had satisfied her was one he would never forget.