His Uncle's Favorite (70 page)

The servants’ appearance broke off any further conversation on that subject, but some time later, lying in the hot water, her eyes closed, Elizabeth shivered at the image of Darcy and her together in the bathtub—or perhaps he was only teasing her again.

Elizabeth enjoyed her bath for quite some time; eventually, her eyes still closed, she heard steps, and she imagined it was Molly coming to help her out. Yet, she did not wish to break her thoughts, so she remained still a little longer. When she finally opened her eyes, she gasped in surprise when she saw not the maid but Darcy, kneeling by the tub, dressed only in his robe, an enigmatic smile on his face.

“You scared me,” she whispered nervously.

“I am sorry,” he replied, though his smile said otherwise. “I dismissed Molly until the morning. Any help you might need, I will provide. I hope you do not mind.”

“No…I just did not expect that…” Her shyness grew, and she looked around, attempting to avoid his eyes. His fingers gently caressed her face—wet and crimson—then he leaned to steal a kiss. “Are you ready to come out or should I join you?”

She laughed but replied daringly, “I doubt the tub is large enough for both of us; besides, the water is already cold, so I shall take your first offer for the time being.”

“Excellent choice.” His tenderness washed away some of her uneasiness, and a smile brightened her eyes. He wrapped her in a large towel then lifted her in his arms and took her not to her bed but to his; the candles were extinguished, and the only light was from the moon and the stars shyly stealing through the curtain. He gently put her down against the pillows, his eyes never leaving hers, and slowly dried her skin, spot by spot.

When he finished, he pulled off the towel and his robe and reclined beside her, covering them both with the sheet. They lay in silence, their bodies feeling and craving each other without actually touching. His fingers caressed her face while his lips tantalised hers before claiming a long-desired kiss. For a time, their lips joined and danced together, passionately yet patiently, with restrained desire. Their bodies, with nothing to keep them apart, tentatively brushed against each other. His hands slowly travelled along, burning her skin, making her shiver, and she could hardly think or do anything but surrender to him. As with a will of their own, her hands shyly stroked his chest then moved lower to his waist. He moaned, and suddenly her mind vividly woke up.

She broke their kiss and withdrew enough to meet his eyes. “I wish to touch you,” she whispered, and his eyes darkened; after a brief hesitation, he turned on his back, his breathing deep and slow, then remained still. She smiled and climbed on her side so her lips could reach his and her hand rested on his chest. Her long hair, slightly wet, fell in heavy curls, tickling his skin.

“I love your hair,” he moaned. Slowly, watching his face, she gathered her hair on one side and allowed it to fall over his shoulder and chest. His hand glided along her nape, and he tried to pull her head closer to capture her lips, but she resisted. Instead, her lips traced light kisses along his jaw, his neck, then lower until she stopped at the spot where his heart was beating. Her fingers brushed against the curly hair on his chest with shy curiosity while her lips touched, explored, and tasted his skin as he had done to her. As all attention was turned to the novelty of her exploration, her breasts brushed against his chest, and a joint moan escaped their lips. A moment later, she repeated the gesture again and again, the pleasure of his chest hair against her hard breasts growing unbearable. Her hand slid lower to his waist, towards his hips, her fingers stroking his skin.

“Elizabeth…” he begged, and she stopped for a moment, lifting her eyes to him; it was dark, but the moonlight was enough for their eyes to meet.

“What should I do now to please you? Please teach me…” she whispered.

He gently caressed her hair. “I have nothing to teach you, my love. Each of your touches gives me more pleasure than I ever felt before. This is perfect,” he said, and she smiled then resumed her caresses, her upper body now completely lying atop his. While her small kisses burned his chest, her hand lowered even more until it finally reached the object of her interest, brushing it tentatively. The sensation was so powerful that his hips shuddered and his hands tightly entwined in her hair while her fingers remained still, barely touching him.

“Oh God, please,” he begged her, and she was not certain what she should do next. Her fingers moved slowly along his hardness; with complete shock, she explored every inch of it, amazed at its size, strength, and softness. His deepest moan was the sign she needed to increase her caresses and her other hand moved to the same spot, searching with curiosity; then her fingers entwined and closed around it.

“Please, my love,” he begged again, and his hips shuddered and arched towards her hands; her fingers resumed their movement along the hard softness, daringly, strongly, then, without much consideration, her lips pressed upon it. Then, slowly, her lips joined her fingers in caressing him and her tongue curiously tasted him. The sensation, so new, so strange, so unexpected, disconcerted her for a moment, and she wondered whether she should continue. But his hoarse voice, his pleading, his hips moving to the rhythm of her fingers, reminded her of the torturous, exquisite pleasure he had given her so many times—and she thought of nothing but to offer him what he desired. Her fingers and lips together resumed their caresses, and each of her kisses, each of her touches elicited deeper moans from him. She could feel his hardness pulsing in her hand as if it was alive, growing even harder when her lips touched and tasted it, and a strange sensation built and burned inside her as his pleasure became hers.

“Elizabeth, wait… I want to touch you, too,” he said but she could not understand his meaning. A moment later, however, she felt his strong hands moving her body, and with the deepest shock, she felt his hands and his mouth caressing her legs, then tantalising her inner thighs and gliding between them. She needed only an instant to understand that he wished for them both to share the same sensation, to bear the same torturous feelings. She resumed her caress, whilst her own body craved and was gratified with his passionate touches, each of them more preoccupied with the other’s pleasure, trying to offer more than they received, until everything collapsed around them.

As quick as a heartbeat, she found herself turned again, and his weight crushed her as he entered deeper, stronger, and faster than ever before. She cried but not from pain—as her mind anticipated with some worry—but of unexpected pleasure and of the fulfilled desire of feeling him inside her. She clasped her legs around his waist, and he tried to catch his breath while he conquered her with long, slow, deep thrusts. She bit his shoulder while the rhythm of his hips increased and his passion invaded her stronger and stronger, deeper and deeper until pleasure shattered her violently while his body convulsed upon hers, bursting inside her.

For a long time, neither of them had the strength or the will to move. He only freed her from his weight as she needed to regain her breathing, but their lower bodies remained joined. She could still feel him inside her, not as large or as strong as before but pulsing lively. Their hands continued to caress each other tenderly as they struggled to recover from the storm of sensation that left them completely spent, exhausted in mind and body.

“You are so wonderful, and I love you so much,” he whispered while he kissed her forehead. “That was… The pleasure you gave me was the most exquisite sensation I have ever experienced… If I ever dreamt that you would someday touch me in such a way, my dream was a pale shadow of the reality.”

She looked at him with a slight uneasiness he did not miss. “I cannot believe what we just did… It was so unexpected, so hard to imagine… Yet, it feels so natural when we are together. I love you so deeply and completely,” she replied, caressing his face.

It was almost midnight when they finally fell asleep, tightly embraced in the large bed of the master of Pemberley, ending their day as passionately as it began.

Chapter 24

During their first week of marriage, the master and mistress rarely left the house, partly because of rain during the first days but also because Mrs. Darcy needed time to visit Pemberley’s rooms—all of them, one by one, in the company of the master, who had postponed all his other business. A great amount of time was spent in the library, for which Mrs. Darcy seemed to have the same passion and fondness as the master; also, a fact that raised some rumours downstairs, Mrs. Darcy showed an unexpected interest in the billiard room, which was uncommon for a lady. After much speculation, whispered carefully in order not to be heard by the severe Mrs. Reynolds, it was decided among the staff that surely Mrs. Darcy learned to play billiards in order to keep her husband company—yet another proof of her worthiness.

By the second week, however, the newly wedded couple spent a few hours outdoors every day—taking long strolls around the gardens, visiting Lambton or one of the tenant families, and conducting Mrs. Darcy’s riding’s lessons. The information that the new Mrs. Darcy did not excel in riding was somehow disconcerting to the Pemberley staff, as everyone had been certain that Mr. Darcy’s wife should be the most accomplished lady in every respect. However, Mr. Colton reported that Mrs. Darcy’s improvement in riding was the fastest and most impressive he had seen in years, which, he admitted, was to Mr. Darcy’s merit entirely as the master did not allow anyone but himself to tutor Mrs. Darcy. One aspect puzzled Mr. Colton, though, and he did not dare discuss it with anyone else: From the first days of their arrival, Mr. Darcy and his wife rode together on Thunder, which was only natural since she could not mount her own horse. But why they would continue that habit even after Mrs. Darcy became proficient at riding by herself, Mr. Colton could not understand.

A month after Mr. Darcy wedded Miss Elizabeth Bennet, everybody who saw them together could testify that he could not possibly have made a better choice. The new Mrs. Darcy brought the only things the master of Pemberley lacked: liveliness, joy, and laughter to warm Pemberley. The master himself was seen smiling more than he had in years, and to everyone’s shock, he even danced several times at the small party he held for his tenants. Even more, the way Mr. and Mrs. Darcy gazed at each other all the time left no room for doubt regarding the feelings they shared.

A new, shiny day dawned beautifully at Pemberley, and the entire household was in an agitated state. In two days’ time, a large party of houseguests was expected, and everything must be more than perfect as Mrs. Reynolds repeated countless times. In truth, Mrs. Reynolds seemed to be the one most concerned about the event—unlike Mrs. Darcy, who assured the staff that she trusted their efficiency implicitly and there was no need for them to do anything different from what they usually did. No matter how much she came to appreciate her new mistress, Mrs. Reynolds could not possibly approve such a leisurely approach; surely, everybody must and would do much more than usual as it was the first large party hosted by her master since he married!

Elizabeth knocked at the study door, and her husband invited her in, a well-known, tender smile on his face. They had spent the morning riding, and afterward, while she went to change her gown, he had an appointment with his steward, which had just ended.

Since they married, they were separated only when he had some fixed appointments, and she usually employed that time discussing with Mrs. Reynolds matters related to the household. The rest of the time, even if he had to take care of business or study a report, she took a chair close to him, reading in silence. He gladly remembered his promise from the first day and did not hesitate to inform her about the most important aspects of his business. He was pleased and eager to answer any of her questions, and he always encouraged her to disagree and argue with him.

He took her hand and closed then locked the door behind him. She smiled and blushed; he always locked the door when they were in a room, which proved a very wise gesture as, most of the time, what started as an innocent, enjoyable activity—reading, playing the piano, or playing billiards—quite often became an intimate interlude.

“Was your meeting successful, I hope?” she inquired.

“Yes, everything is settled. I hope nothing urgent will appear in the next days as I plan to focus my attention on our guests.”

“I can hardly wait for their arrival; I have missed them all so dearly.”

“Yes, I imagine it must have been difficult for you to have no other company than mine.”

She raised her eyebrow in harsh reproach. “Such an unfair statement does not even deserve a reply. I believe you are only craving more compliments to flatter your pride. So fortunate that Miss Bingley will be here in no time,” she replied impertinently.

He unceremoniously sat in his chair by the desk and pulled her onto his lap. “You are quite disrespectful, Mrs. Darcy,” he said as he claimed her lips. “I think I shall complain to my mother-in-law about your wild behaviour.”

“Forgive me, sir, I was not aware that you were displeased with my behaviour. Had I known before, I surely would endeavour to make amends.”

She laughed against his mouth, and he silenced her with another kiss, deeper and more demanding as she encircled her hands around his neck, her mouth as eager as his. He suddenly pulled up her dress and turned her to face him, astride on his lap. She was neither surprised nor reluctant; their kiss grew wilder as well as their caresses. He lowered the dress from her shoulders while she untied his cravat. She could feel his hands gliding between her thighs, and she laughed within the kiss at how expert he had became at removing their clothes in every possible situation. However, her laughter soon became moans of torturous pleasure when he entered her slowly, deep inside. He slowly put her back against the desk to expose her soft, heavy roundness to his hungry mouth, eager to enjoy her sweetness. Their rhythm increased, and they struggled to quiet their moans within the kiss, biting each other’s lips. When pleasure vanquished her strength and she could move no longer, he rose from the chair and laid her along the desk, her legs entwined on his back, and he continued to love her there on the wooden desk—where he had spent so many lonely hours—until she took her pleasure again and again. Only then did he allow his own body to feel its long-restrained relief.