Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (30 page)

“Eight months.”  He kissed her softly.  “Eight wonderful months.”

“Hardly.”  Their eyes met and she touched the scar on his cheek.  As her eyes brightened, he shook his head.  “I am sorry.”

“I just do not wish to weep myself.”  Darcy pulled out another ribbon.  “And I do want to discard the good we have done today.  Let us speak of other things.  What were you doing at this time last year?”

Elizabeth considered the question.  “I was . . . packing for London.” 

“Truly?” 

“Why would I lie?”  She laughed and he shrugged.  “Oh my, yes . . . I was going to stay with Aunt and Uncle for two months, my longest visit yet.  We did not go out much, but I did enjoy seeing all of the wonderful sights.” 

“I thought that you did not go out much?”  A dish on the table dinged as another pin was dropped in.  “What sights did you see?”

“Oh, the people, the streets teeming with activity.  And of course all of the shops and warehouses in Cheapside.  Uncle took me to the docks one day.  I watched the ships unloading and groups of men gathered around great mounds of oysters and fish as they were auctioned off.  And of course Uncle was there in the thick of it, bargaining for whatever his shop needed.” 

“What does he sell?”

“He brokers, actually.  He buys from the ships and then resells to others for a bit more . . . I am not entirely sure how it all works, but it seems that if you need something, he is the man to find it for you.”

“That explains the access to fine wine.”  Darcy said thoughtfully.

“You and your wine.”  She tickled his belly and he curled up in self defence. 

“Watch yourself, woman.”  He growled above her lips. 

“Or else, what?”  She challenged him.

“I will show you what.” 

“Oh dear, I am sooo terribly frightened . . .”  Suddenly Darcy scooped her up and onto his lap.  Elizabeth squealed and started laughing as her face was covered in kisses.   “Will!”  She batted at him. 

“Why did you not visit Park Lane when you were in London?”  Darcy demanded.  “Why did you not come to me?”

“And how was I to do that?  And for that matter, you could have come to Cheapside!”

“Seriously Elizabeth, an arrogant arse like me?”  His eyes twinkled merrily.  “No, you had to come to me.  You should have felt my manly presence and been drawn to Mayfair.”

“Oh, we
are
full of ourselves tonight!” 

“And you would have come to the door, wet . . .”

“Wet?”

“It would have been raining.”  He nipped her throat.  “As I was saying, you were wet, and your lovely nipples would have been hard and . . . begging to be loved.”  His palm caressed over her breasts.  “And these heavenly orbs of delight . . .”  Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth as she snorted.  “These soft pillows of pleasure, these glorious jewels of femininity would have been straining to escape the confines of your exceptionally tight bodice.”

“Your imagination . . .” She was silenced when he gathered her up in his arms and thoroughly kissed her.  Elizabeth sighed.  “What happened next?”

“Why, I invited you in.”  His fingers tiptoed around the ties of her nightdress and pulled the ribbons open.  “And I would have led you to the library . . .”

“Why the library?”

“Why not?  This is
my
fantasy.”  His hand dipped into her gown and he captured one breast to suckle.  “mmmm” 

“And then?” 

“I would lift you up and . . .” He swallowed.  “I would . . . make good use of my sword, and you would have been mine forever.”

“I am now.”

“I wanted you then.”  Darcy caressed his hand up her leg to her thighs.  “I wanted you so much then.” 

Sitting up, she slid off his lap onto the floor to the sound of his protests.  “Come here.”

“Where?”   He watched her backing up towards the fire.  “Careful love, I do not want that gorgeous bottom singed.” 

“We have a beautiful rug here.”  She knelt upon it and lifting her nightdress pulled it up over her head.  Darcy stopped and stared as she cupped her breasts and smiled at him.  “Are you hungry?” 

Instantly his nightshirt was discarded and he nearly dove on top of her. Elizabeth sank into the deep thick fur of the bearskin rug.  She looked up into his beautiful blue eyes, and caressed back the long fringe of hair that fell across his brow.  “Hullo, Mr. Darcy.” 

“Hullo, my love.”  He whispered hoarsely.

“What happens next in your fantasy?”  Elizabeth asked softly.  Her fingers were trailing over his chest, entwining with the soft curls of hair that tapered down to his navel where the very tip of his erection waited, glistening and warm.  “Do I touch you?”  Darcy’s eyes closed when her fingertip glided over the head and stroked gently, sending waves of pleasure over his body. 

“Oh Lord . . .” His breath was ragged and he remained on his hands and knees while she touched him, caressing up and around, possessively, confidently . . . Her hands moved over his hips and gently, her fingers skimmed over his spine and buttocks, making him shiver with the sensations firing in his groin until he could take no more.  “Your teasing is driving me mad, Lizzy!”  He roared.  Grabbing her ankles, he spread her legs wide and plunged in.  Elizabeth gasped and cried out with a delighted laugh that was soon replaced with gasps as her husband displayed the consequences of his long-repressed desire.  They rutted and clutched each other, hands caressing everywhere, kisses, mouths and tongues savouring every bit of skin they could reach. 

Somewhere in his mind, a voice begged him to slow down, make it last, somehow. 
Try
to let it go on and on . . .

Elizabeth sensed his body stiffening as the race for release began to overtake him. “Oh no . . . not yet, Will.  Slow . . . slow . . .
Hold
me.” 

In the fuzzy haze he heard her voice, and letting her legs down, he settled over her, slowing, regaining some control as she whispered words of love and lust to his willing ear.  They were as close together as they could possibly be.  Darcy traced his tongue over the swollen flesh of her lips as he rocked with her and stared into her eyes. Elizabeth wrapped her arms and legs around him.  It felt so good, his mind was lost in the feel of her, every nerve was tingling and he was gone, lost, so lost, moving with her, feeling her, sliding into the warm velvet, feeling her body tighten, hearing her soft gasps as she held him, seeking the same abyss he desperately craved. At last with her inarticulate cries increasing, he felt the unmistakable clutch of Elizabeth’s release.  He loved feeling her squeezing him; he loved how wet she became, and loved, absolutely, the pleasure that he felt flowing through her.   

But he needed his release
NOW
.  It had been too long, far too long since he had loved his wife.  Darcy kissed her, and resting his head on her shoulder, drank in the musky scent of their lovemaking mixed with the sweetness of her perfume, and responding to the instinct to possess her, his thrusts became deeper, frenzied, as he pounded into her and met the unrelenting demands of his desire.  Completely giving his mind and body over to need, he felt the heat, the blood, his essence pooling into his groin and with a great cry, he exploded at last, filling her with his seed and sending him rocketing into the inky blackness of oblivion.

Slowly he returned to conscious thought, and became aware of Elizabeth’s arms and legs wrapped around his sweat-soaked body. 

 “Dear Lord . . .”  Still shuddering, he lifted his head, and kissed her tenderly while she stroked his back.  At last, he managed to focus on the blushing, dewy woman lying in his arms.   “How do you feel, dearest?” 

“Wonderful.”  Her sleepy eyes opened, “So wonderful.”

 “I love you.” 

“Oh Will, I love you.”  She brushed back the damp hair plastered to his brow.  “Do you feel better?” 

“If I did not, I would seriously question my capacity for pleasure.”  Darcy laughed and reached for a blanket to cover them.  “Do
you
feel better?”

She snuggled against him, “This is the best I have felt in a very long time.”

“I will never hold back from you again.” He said seriously, and tucking her head against his chest, he kissed her shoulder and closed his eyes. “Never again.” 

Chapter 12

“T
his looks better.”  Mrs. Shaw noted and finished adding more ribbons on the mourning wreath for the front door.  “I am surprised that she doesn’t want to cover the mirrors?”

“She thinks it is silly.”  Amy piped up when she appeared with her empty coal bucket.  “I heard her talking to Judy about wearing mourning and things when they returned from their ride.  She said that her Papa hated the custom and laughed at it, but she knows he would have been hurt if nobody remembered him for at least a day or two.”  Setting down her things she set to work turning the rabbits Darcy had shot that morning on the spit. 

“A day or two?”  Mrs. Shaw snorted.  “Six months is more like it.”

“They will be back at home by then.”  Mrs. Duncan said thoughtfully.

“Mrs. Shaw, have you the wreath?  If we are to hang one, it should not be down for long.”  Parker asked from the doorway.

“Yes, Mr. Parker.”  She hurriedly came forward.  “I do not expect many visitors, though.”

“Neither do I, but they will be warned if they approach the house.”  He looked to Mrs. Duncan.  “Do we have anything to serve them?”

“Mr. Parker, I
do
know my business.” 

He smiled at her affront.  “I had to ask.  By the way, you will want to stock your larder, we will be receiving houseguests.  Mr. Darcy just informed me.”

“Guests?”  Mrs. Shaw stopped her progress out to the hallway.  “Who?  How many?” 

“One at first, but ultimately it will be four.  Colonel Fitzwilliam, you have already met, and Mr. Darcy’s uncle, Judge Darcy, his wife and son.  I have no idea how long they are staying as yet.”

“Are they bringing servants with them?”  Mrs. Shaw demanded.

“I am certain they will, at least a valet and a lady’s maid.”  Tilting his head, he regarded her.  “Is that a problem?”

“A problem?  That is six more mouths to feed!  And only one girl to do the cleaning?  We will have to bring in another maid, and a footman!”

“No, we will be just fine with what we have.  We cannot expose Miss Cargill to any other outsiders.  The people who are coming are well aware of the situation.”

“I will be doing nothing but emptying chamber pots all day.  And carrying water.  And cooking . . .” Amy sighed. 

“Perhaps we can bring in Ben from the stables to help out.  He is not very busy.  And of course, we will keep up with the dusting along with our other duties.”  Smiling kindly at her, Parker took the wreath from Mrs. Shaw and continued out to the door. 

“He did not even ask me if I thought it was a good idea.”  Mrs. Shaw stared.

“Mr. Parker is not pleased with you.”  Mrs. Duncan said shrewdly.  “Don’t think that your critical looks at Judy go unnoticed.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.”  She huffed and rolled up the rest of the unused black ribbon.  “I am going to see to the guest rooms.”  She turned and left the kitchen. 

Mrs. Duncan rolled her eyes and seeing Amy smiling, gave her a tap on the shoulder.  “Enough of that my girl, don’t let those rabbits burn.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Duncan.”  She quickly started turning the spit again and jumped when they heard the bells ringing for the front door.  “Who could that be?” 

“A MINISTER?”  Darcy’s brow creased when he heard the name of the visitor. 

Parker nodded from the drawing room door.  “He wishes to bring comfort.”

“He is likely a busy body.”  Darcy mumbled and looked to Elizabeth when she admonished him by tapping his foot with her slipper.  “Do you want to speak to him, dearest?” 

“Of course.”  She stood and smoothed her hands over her skirt.  “He is kind enough to pay a call.”

“Of course.”  Darcy looked to Parker and with a sigh, nodded.  When he left, he looked to his sister, “Georgiana, I am sorry to have to ask you to leave.”

“I understand.”  She tried to push up from her chair, but Darcy was immediately there to help her to stand.  “I was feeling sleepy anyway.” 

Watching her go, Darcy’s brow creased and he met Elizabeth’s concerned eyes.  “She seems further along than we suppose, or am I incorrect?” 

“I am no expert in this, Will.  But I suspect it is true.  Aunt Susan will be here in a week or so, she will know far better than we.”  She saw him biting his lip and turned when they heard boots upon the stairs. 

“Reverend Campbell of the Crossroads Presbyterian Church.”  Parker announced and bowing; retreated. 

“Reverend, I am Fitzwilliam Darcy and this is my wife, Elizabeth.  How may we help you, today?” 

The minister saw Darcy’s black armband, but he focussed on Elizabeth, dressed pleasantly in dove-gray silk.  A black shawl lay casually over the back of the sofa.  “I am not certain.  The postman mentioned noticing a new mourning wreath hanging on the door yesterday, and I have come to offer my services.”

Darcy nodded slowly, “That is kind sir; however, you should know that we are Anglicans . . .”

“Of that I have no doubt, sir, knowing this is not your primary residence and noting your steady absence from my services since your arrival in the neighbourhood.”  He raised his brows when the couple exchanged glances, “But death knows no boundaries, and if some spiritual comforting is wanted, I am willing to cross the great divide.” 

Elizabeth laughed.  “My goodness, you make it sound as if we have a moat around the house.” 

“Well, it would come in handy knowing the history of your sect in these parts.  But in the end, we all make the same affirmation of faith.”  He smiled and took the chair Elizabeth offered.  “So, there has been a death?  May I ask who has passed?”

“My father, Reverend Campbell.  He was ill for a long time, and it comes as a relief to know he is at peace.  It is his request that I not hide away in black for his sake when he will never see me again to appreciate the gesture.  I will wear it publicly to respect the social rules, but in my own home, I will respect my father’s wishes.”