Page 72 of Midnight at Pemberley

Darcy’s long legs and knee boots put her at a disadvantage, so she turned on him and frantically threw snow in the air, covering them both in a powdery spray of frosty crystals. He fought his way through the snowy cloud, grabbing Elizabeth by the waist and dumping her none-too-gingerly into a pile of snow. “You deserve this,” he asserted, as he unceremoniously fell on top of her, wrestling with her in the snow. His weight held her down, although she continued to squirm against him. Elizabeth’s grinding hardened him instantly.

“Surrender,” he said as he pressed harder.

“Never.” Elizabeth shoved a handful of snow into his shirt.

Darcy let out a gasp of surprise and a shudder before catching her wrists in his palm, locking them above her head. “Should I do the same to you, Vixen?” It was the first time he had called her Vixen since arriving at Pemberley. “Would those lovely breasts prefer a cold shock?”

“Only if you warm them for me afterwards.” Elizabeth arched forward, seeking his mouth for comfort.

Darcy brushed his lips across hers. “Woman, what are you doing to me? Such words!” His pulse raced.

“I hope to make you love me, Mr. Darcy.” Her words brought their struggle to a standstill.

Darcy gazed into her eyes, heavy-lidded with desire, and he lost all sense of reason. “Cease your efforts, Mrs. Darcy,” he whispered. “I loved you from the beginning of time.” He wondered about the sanity of admitting his true feelings. What if she does not share my love? He kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue. “What am I doing?” he murmured.

“Kissing your wife. In public.” Her voice was breathy with desire.

Darcy chuckled. “I suppose we will be the talk of the servants’ quarters again tonight.”

“So much for my hopes of being a model of decorum,” Elizabeth observed.

“We have done enough damage to our reputations. We should return to the house.” He rolled from her. Standing, he extended his hand to her, but Elizabeth continued to lie in the snow. “Come, Elizabeth,” he demanded.

“No.” She did not move.

“No?” Confused, he asked, “Why ever not?” He dropped his hand to his side.

She licked her lips in a nervous gesture, before saying, “Because I have not told my husband I am completely and hopelessly in love with him.”

Darcy knew deep satisfaction. He extended his hand again, and this time Elizabeth took it. They walked silently to the house, arms wrapped around each other’s waist. At the door, he turned Elizabeth to him to tenderly kiss her. “You are everything: my world and my love.”

He sat in the Bennets’ parlor, paying homage to Lydia Bennet. Wickham despised such dalliances. He preferred the feast to the hunt. Yet he wanted no one suspicious until it was too late for the Bennets or the Darcys.

“Will you travel with the Forsters, Miss Lydia?” As usual, he held a glass of port. It amazed him no one ever noticed he did not drink.

Lydia frowned in response. “Papa has not relented.”

“I do so hope you attend the ball, Miss Lydia. I wish to claim the first set.” Wickham presented her one of his best smiles.

Lydia batted her eyelashes at him. “You will be in London, Mr. Wickham?”

To entice her, he lowered his voice. “I will be in London if you are, Miss Lydia, and it would give me great pleasure if I might escort you to see the sights. Obvioiusly, the beauties of the city will wane when compared to your fine countenance. If I might be so bold, I would take you driving in Hyde Park or to the theatre. Anything you wish, Miss Lydia.”

Other females would rebuke his forwardness, but Lydia Bennet relished his attentions. Wickham knew wedding vows filled her dreams, but marriage to him would be more than a life-long commitment. It would mean eternal damnation.

“Mr. Wickham, I would entertain your wishes most readily.”

“Then, Miss Lydia, we must convince your father to change his mind. Our happiness depends on it.”

The day the Darcys admitted to their love, the forces holding them changed dramatically. For Darcy, his need to touch her became even more intense. For weeks, he cautiously guarded his emotions. Yet each resolution to ignore his wife disappeared the moment Elizabeth swept into a room. The recognition of her certain consent tortured his body and his mind. Lying beside her created a fire impossible to ignore.

The only thing that kept him in check was Elizabeth’s dreams of a family. Although she never mentioned the possibility of children, she flirted with him in the most outrageous ways, never passing up an opportunity to wrap her arms around him or to kiss him.

As such, their desperation to defeat Wickham increased. By silent consent, they set the day of Wickham’s demise as the day they would begin their “real” life. Their need fueled their searching the books she purchased in London.

“It says here,” Elizabeth summarized a passage, “that vampires often have the ability to physically transform. This makes sense. I thought I followed William through the woods, but it was really Wickham.”

“That does not make me feel safer,” Georgiana commented before adding transformation to their growing list.