Page 85 of The Widower of Pemberley

They entered the bedroom together, his arm brushing against hers.

There was a warm glow from the fire, and the air was pleasant, perhaps even too warm. He placed the candle on the dresser and turned to Elizabeth.

She flushed at his close gaze and looked down.

She was a precious thing. He could damage her.

She took a deep breath, and with a crack in her voice, she said, “It has been another long day.”

He nodded.

On the little table in the room was a bottle of wine that Darcy opened, and he poured her a glass and one for himself. He handed her the glass, and they chinked them together before bringing them to their lips.

She swallowed a large mouthful of wine. He did as well.

Elizabeth held herself tight, her arms pressed against her sides.

Darcy took a deep breath. “Are you frightened?”

She blushed but looked up at him. “I hardly know what to expect.”

He took her free hand. “Is it not the custom for your mother or another woman to give you advice upon the occasion?”

Elizabeth giggled nervously and took another gulp of the wine. “My mother tried to explain. But it was quite awkward…and…” She looked down again. “The chief of the matter is between us, in…inus.”

He put his wine to the side, on the table, and pressed a hand against her cheek. “There can be great joy for the woman.”

“I have heard that—I do not wish to be…I know that it is not respectable to enjoy it too much.”

“I want you to enjoy my touch,” Darcy said, his voice low and intent.

She looked at him with wide eyes, lips trembling.

He kissed her. Long and slow.

He was not sure where the confidence that suddenly filled him came from.

He was desperate for her, and desperate for her to be happy to be with him.

When he pulled away, he asked, “Did you enjoy that.”

Her wide dark eyes, dim and glowing in the candlelight, bore into his. “I hardly know.”

He kissed her again. Her soft lips moved with his, and she let out a sweet sigh, a moan that went through him. This was right; this was where he was meant to be.

He let his fingers slowly stroke her arms, and he pulled the pins from her hair. He kissed her neck, kissed her ear, and he held her close. “I want you to enjoy this. I want you to feel everything that you can.”

“I feel a great deal, but it scares me.”

“Look at me.”

Elizabeth looked deep into his eyes.

The phrase ‘I love you’ drifted through Darcy’s mind.

Where did that thought come from?

He had married her for wholly different reasons. A flash of fear assailed him as their gazes held.