“Elizabeth,” he murmured, bending closer as though merely to adjust her shawl.
Before she could respond, he drew her gently towards him and claimed a kiss. The kiss was swift, warm, and far less restrained than propriety might have recommended. While it may have lasted no more than a heartbeat, it was unmistakably deliberate and meant as a claiming.
For an instant she forgot the church, the guests, and even the carriage beyond the doors. When he released her, his composure appeared entirely restored; hers, she suspected, was not.
It was certainly not the chaste formality expected of newly married couples within the porch of a parish church—but it was, in her estimation, perfect.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Immediately following the ceremony, Darcy and Elizabeth entered their carriage and were conveyed to Millwood Cottage for the wedding breakfast. The ride was far too short for his liking. The privacy, something they had only rarely been afforded during their brief engagement, felt dangerously heady. The moment the carriage door closed and the horses began to move, he drew her towards him with unmistakable possession.
At first, he kissed her but once, determined that their conduct remain decorous on this brief ride before facing their families. The faint, breathless sound she made in response rendered such intentions a trial to his self-command. He drew her closer and claimed her mouth again, this time more slowly and deliberately, and when she answered him without hesitation, restraint became nearly impossible.
A sharp knock upon the carriage door came far too soon, recalling them to the present.
Darcy did not immediately release her. Instead, he tightened his hold and rested his forehead against hers, unwilling, if only for another heartbeat, to surrender the moment.
Elizabeth, close enough that her breath warmed his cheek, gave the faintest laugh. “We cannot remain here indefinitely, William.”
“Why not?” he murmured, his mouth lingering far nearer hers than propriety permitted. “I see no compelling reason to go inside. We might make directly for Pemberley and spend the next months entirely alone.”
“We are expected inside, William. Our families wish to celebrate with us.”
“Must we?” he asked softly, the suggestion visibly costing him effort.
Her fingers tightened slightly in his lapels before relaxing slightly. “We must,” she said gently, shifting within his embrace to press a kiss to his cheek. The movement placed a small but necessary distance between them. “We shall have time to ourselves soon enough.”
He closed his eyes briefly and drew in a steadying breath, entwining her fingers with his own. “Not nearly long enough. You know our family insists that we join the season, if only for a brief time.”
Reluctantly, and with a low, restrained sound, he drew back, but not entirely. His hands lingered at her waist, his thumb tracing the line of her gown, as though even separation must be accomplished by degrees.
My wife.
The word resounded through him with a depth he had not anticipated. He had waited long enough to claim her openly; he did not relish surrendering even an hour more to expectation and ceremony.
At last he forced himself to order. He smoothed a curl that had slipped from its pins near her temple, his fingers brushing the delicate skin there with deliberate slowness before drawing back.
Adjusting his cravat, he reclaimed some semblance of decorum and ensured that neither of them bore visible evidence of impatience. He was not so foolish as to provide their assembled relations with cause for speculation although he suspected more than one observer might remark upon the length of time their carriage had remained upon the drive.
Only when he was satisfied did he descend first and turn to assist her to the ground.
Inside, they were greeted by members of both families and several of Elizabeth’s neighbours, all eager to offer their congratulations.
Unsurprisingly, his cousin was among the first to approach, a knowing grin already forming.
“Rather pleased with yourself, are you not, cousin?” Richard said lightly.
Darcy did not glance at his cousin immediately. His attention remained upon Elizabeth as he settled her hand more securely upon his arm, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly, placing himself between her and the rest of the room.
“At present,” he said at last, his voice composed but unmistakably firm, “I am inclined to believe myself the most fortunate man in England.”
Only then did he look at his cousin, his brow raised in silent challenge.
Richard’s grin softened at once. “I do not doubt it, Darcy.” His words and tone were serious, and Darcy observed how he glanced ever so subtly at where Jane Bennet stood with the rest of her family after he spoke.
Darcy drew his wife further into the room as they began to greet the assembled guests. They had seen nearly all of them at the church, yet propriety demanded that they make their way about the room and address each in turn. He allowed himself the faint hope that, if they were diligent in their attentions, they might secure an earlier departure for London.
His hopes, however, were quickly undone, for between his Aunt Matlock and Elizabeth’s Aunt Rosalind, the pair were prevailed upon to remain far longer than he might have preferred. Obviously they must remain for the meal and a time thereafter, but he allowed himself to hope they might not be obliged to linger excessively once it concluded.
