“You have betrayed your own people, Lord Darcy! You will not get away with this!”
The guards dragged him away, his screams echoing. The High Lord returned to the dais and accepted Foster's allegiance to the Princess and his congratulations on their marriage.
“My lord, pray feel free to bed here tonight. It is far too late to return to Pemberley this evening.”
“Thank you, Foster. If you would be so kind as to have a servant take us to our rooms, I would be most appreciative. And also have them send up a light supper in an hour or so, if you please.”
Once they were ensconced in their chamber, Darcy lying upon the bed and Elizabeth curled up in a chair by the fire, the questions began. She had apparently taken to heart the vow she had made to him earlier.
“Were ye really so very angry with Mr. Hargrove?”
“Aye. The man is an utter bastard. I have never had an opportunity to dispatch him before. When he refused to acknowledge you, I saw my chance.”
“Are ye truly taking his lands from him?”
“I shall leave him his house and the land around it, perhaps a few tenants, but the rest will be divided amongst the two other landholding clans in the area.”
“Ye could have taken them for thyself.”
“No, that would have been a tricky prospect. You heard him. He was very angry about you coming from the South Country, despite the fact that Richard governs the entire Country from there. Others exist who are just like him, and if you attack one, you attack all. I shall have enough to deal with by breaking up his property.
“You were amazing down there today, though.”
The compliment warmed her because it came from him. “I was simply being logical.”
“You were simply being brilliant.” He beamed.
“I was not quite so brilliant. I was irritated that he had the gall to pretend I am less than he because I am a woman.”
Darcy slid off the bed like a snake preparing to strike a blow and stood in front of her chair. Her eyes travelled up his body slowly, remembering the pleasure he had brought her the night before and her stomach tightened with anticipation. He offered his hand and in moments she was caught up in his powerful embrace.
“I have come to understand only recently,” he began, punctuating each word with a kiss along her jaw to her neck, “that you are less than nobody.”
“That is kind of ye to say,” she replied, breathless. How much longer could she hold on to her dislike for him when he made her feel like this? Once again, the past was forgotten as he plucked her from the ground and carried her to the bed.
“I do not think I had the pleasure of undressing you last night, my sweet. I must say I am glad for the delay. I have never divested a woman of her breeches before.”
“A first? And here I was certain I would present a deviant such as thee with no new challenges.”
“I have a feeling, my sweet, beautiful wife, that you will challenge me in ways even I have not yet imagined.” He pulled the hem of her linen shirt from beneath her trousers, lifting the fabric away to lay kisses to her smooth, white belly.
Shockwaves rippled through her body at the contact and her fingers twisted through his hair, pulling it free from its leather binding. His mane was soft and thick and heavy. It fell over his shoulders and tickled her abdomen. She giggled.
“Do you like that?” he asked, drawing his tongue over her skin.
She nodded silently, then the stubble on his chin rubbed her roughly. He disregarded her stomach, sliding up her body, half-lying on her, and pressed his mouth slowly against hers, his long hair shielding them both from the world beyond the edges of their bed. Their tongues met to taste each other in a languid dance. Everything slowed down: hands touched and dragged, kisses seemed to last forever, pressure took its time to build, and they were both still clothed.
* * *
Finally, he pulled her up and brought the shirt over her head, revealing her completely. She had not even bothered with a corset, and discovering that merely a layer of linen had separated her from the world all day made his body ache. He circled her nipple with his tongue while he cupped her other breast and massaged it ever so softly. A moan rolled from her and erupted into the air, stoking the fire inside him.
He pressed her body into the bed and stared at her for a long moment, committing her angles to memory. He let his index finger start at her shoulder and trace its way at a snail’s pace down her arm, up her side, and back down to the fastenings of her breeches. As he fingered the leather, Darcy was engaged in watching her eyes, looking for a clue to what she was feeling. Her eyes were heavy, and she was biting her lip.
“He could not make you feel this way, you know,” he said softly, unhooking the trousers. He dropped a kiss on her skin as he parted her fly. “He could not.”
“We shall never know, shall we?” she asked. “It is ye who is here. Why cause thyself pain thinking on it?”
“I cannot help it. I cannot stomach the thought that you might be thinking of him when I am the one touching you like this.” With that he slipped a finger inside her and stroked her deep and slow. Her scent filled his nostrils and was more intoxicating than any wine he had ever had. His lips brushed over her, and she bucked.
