She thought that was good, although she had no idea who Mr. Collins would seek to marry with such little time left before he had to return to Hunsford.
“So, why did you say you received only one marriage proposal when I sit before you after asking for your hand.”
“You, Mr. Darcy, did not ask for my hand. You simply said we must marry. There is a difference.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him.
His eyes widened in surprise. Apparently not many people took the great master of Pemberley to task. She glanced down at the shining mark on her wrist. It no longer burned as before, but how in the world was she going to keep this hidden. She couldn’t wear gloves all day, every day.
“I notice you admiring your soul mark.”
“I amnotadmiring it,” she ground out. “I’m wondering how to disguise it.”
“No one else will see it.”
“How can that be, it’s bright and shiny and our wrists!” she cried out and waved her arm in front of his face.
“Only the two who bear the mark and royalty can see it, but now that we know who our soul mate is, we cannot bond with another. To do so causes untold misery and ill health.”
He caught her flailing hand and brought her fingers to his lips. Her cheeks flushed and she has the hazy sensation she no longer she fit inside her skin. He stood and tugged her to her feet, wrapping one arm around her waist and drew her into his embrace, trapping her hand between their chests. Even when he released her hand and cupped her cheek, she remained in that attitude, relishing the feel of his heartbeat against her palm.
His head lowered and he captured her mouth with his. Lips to lips, chest to chest, thigh to thigh they stood as he plundered her mouth with his tongue. One strong hand lowered to the small of her back and he pressed into her, the evidence of his desire making its needs known to both of them. Hot kisses were scattered across her cheek, behind her ear and down her neck. He lifted her off her feet and pressed that wicked mouth against the rise of her breast. She pulled her hand free and wrapped both arms around his neck, giving into her desire.
Impatiently, he tugged the bodice of her gown and chemise, freeing the swell of one luscious breast to his eager mouth. Liquid heat trailed a languorous path from her breast to the womanly cradle of her body. Wants and needs she’d never experienced warred with her common sense. All she knew that this was right. Everything had coalesced into this one defining moment and there was no going back.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered. “If I don’t stop now...”
“Then don’t.”
He sighed, deep in his chest. “How I love you, Elizabeth.”
Just the sound of her name on his tongue, spoken with such reverence, caused a thrill of anticipation to ripple through her body right down to her toes. His muscles coiled as he swung her up into his arms, carried her to the bed and lowered her onto the counterpane. He stood staring at her, eyes darkened with desire and she returned his unrepentant heated look with one of her own. She followed the hard lines of his chest past the corded muscles which bracketed his abdomen, down to... Oh! There was no mistaking his ardor. At her quick intake of breath, he chuckled. Her eyes flew up and their gazes locked. With a decidedly dangerous smile, he said, “Too late for protests, love.”
He braced one hand on either side of her body and kissed her. Somehow, he’d divested himself of his shirt. Or had she pushed the opened garment off his shoulders so that she could kiss his bare skin while he laved and suckled and teased her tightened nipple? She no longer knew or cared. All she knew was that she needed him like she needed air.
Cool air stirred over her legs and she dimly realized her dress had been removed. By magic? She did not care. Darcy’s head moved down her body, past her mid section and before she could quite make out what was happening, he’d dipped his tongue in her most secret place, followed by one deliciously long finger, then two. Her hips arched off the bed and he grabbed her thigh with his free arm and held her in place. He stroked and nibbled, plundered and sucked and her heart threatened to leap out of her chest. Everything became a whirling vortex of heat, pressure, and desire. Her world exploded in a spasm of pleasure around his fingers, and rocked her very core.
At long last he lifted his head and slowly stretched his body over hers. It should have alarmed her, but Fitzwilliam was as naked as she and the blunt edge of his appendage pressed against her virginal entrance. He showered kisses across her face and claimed her lips once again, entering her slow, yet deliberate. He stretched her to the limit. Surely, he would not fit complete.
“Relax, Elizabeth. It will only hurt the first time, I promise.”
At his words she attempted to relax, only stiffening when, with one hard thrust, he broke her maidenhead and at her small whimper, stayed all movement.
“Do you wish me to stop?”
Always the gentleman. She quickly realized she liked the feel of him, the dull ache which accompanied his intimate invasion. This was something only he would ever share with her and her alone.
“Don’t you dare, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“Oh, thank God. I don’t think I could.”
All too soon the pain receded, lessening with every thrust. Instinctively, she rose to meet each frantic buck of his body, greedy fingers trailing down his back, clutching his muscular buttocks. Their tempo increased and reached crescendo when, with one last thrust, he flung back his head and cried out her name. She felt every spasmodic twitch in tandem with her own quivers of pleasure and they collapsed into an exhausted tangle of arms and legs. Fitzwilliam moved onto his side and pulled her close, allowing her head to rest upon his chest. His heart still beat at a frantic pace and she would have moved away, but he looped one long leg over hers, his member still deep inside, fusing her in place.
“Will you marry me, Miss Elizabeth. You are truly my heart’s desire.”
Chapter Eleven
He waited for her answer, breath held, not daring to hope she’d say yes. Granted, they each bore a soul mark, but his Elizabeth was a fiercely independent woman and would chafe at a forced marriage. She shifted and raised herself up onto one elbow to look at him. He loved how her hair had escaped its pins and glorious curls cascaded about her neck and shoulders. He couldn’t stop himself from hardening. Her eyes widened and he gave a small shrug of his shoulders as though to say,I can’t help it.
He rolled her onto her back and stared intently into her eyes. Shards of silver once again encircled her pupils, but this time he knew it was not from anger.
