Page 37 of Pride, Prejudice & Wicked Pleasure

“If you wish.”

“I did not mean to imply a preference for abandonment but to comment upon the irony of—oh!”

His hands had slid beneath her chemise toward her lower back. In similar manner, his hands grasped and rubbed her along both sides of her spine, at one point perilously close to scraping the sides of her breasts. He had been diligent in providing her advance notice of what he was to do, and the surprise left her bereft of words. She idly wondered if that had been his intention. His hands had been upon her lower back earlier, but now they lingered there, gradually working their charm. Without sight, she was deprived of a major source of stimulation and had mostly the sense of touch to focus upon. She found she rather liked the feel of his hands, masculine in their size and strength but possessing a gentle touch.

Her resistance melting away, she allowed him to continue in silence and herself to enjoy the effect of his efforts. Before she realized it, the steady crackle of the fire and soothing motions of his hands had lulled her to sleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was not possible, but the woman lying in the bed across from where Darcy sat was oddly familiar to him. Even the scent of her, though he would be hard-pressed to describe it, seemed reminiscent. With her asleep, he could have lighted a candle and examined her features more closely to ascertain if he might have met her before, but he would not breach the confidence of darkness. Also, he wanted the reprieve her slumber provided. He felt unsettled and attributed the condition partially to their exchange but mostly to his being out of practice and out of sorts. Alas, this woman had done nothing to recede all thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet.

He went to stoke the fire. She stirred. Awake, she lifted the blindfold and, recouping her bearings, assessed her surroundings. She looked at the robe he had covered her with. All else was as it had been.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Not quite half an hour,” he replied. “I can lace your corset or ring for Sally to assist you.”

She was briefly abashed. “Are we finished?”

“For the evening.”

She seemed disappointed.

“It is not unusual for the first appointment to consist purely of establishing a level of comfort,” he explained. The fact that she had fallen asleep suggested she had attained a great deal of ease with his person, but he was ready to conclude the night. He was to meet his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, if the weather was sufficiently fine in the morning, and proceed to Rosings together. The sobering company of his aunt might prove the antidote he required.

Pulling her arms from the corset and leaving it upon the bed, she drew the robe around her and sat up. “I had expected…more.”

“It is only the first lesson.”

“Yes, but, I require an accelerated program, if you will. I do not reside in Hunsford and my duration here is limited.”

“You have no qualms to continue?” he asked, though she had spoken with certitude.

“I would not say all reservations have gone, but they are sufficiently diminished.”

Again he hesitated. Her desire to proceed with him did bolster his confidence, and she was not unpleasant to the touch. Her skin had felt firm, soft and smooth without the aid of the pomade.

“But if you are in doubt,” she said, “I will not force your hand.”

His sense of obligation took over. “Not at all.”

He wandered over to the armoire. where a copy of Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure lay. “I am told you take great pleasure in reading.”

“Yes. I would be a guest here for an eternity with such a fine library.”

“The collection is singular with rare translations not known to the public. Have you partaken of its offerings?”

“I was given a copy of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria by Mr. Tr— I was advised the other texts would be, perhaps, too coarse.”

Mr. Trenwith, she no doubt intended to say. Darcy could not speak ill of Nicholas, being the stepson of his mentor, but he wondered that Nicholas might have gained admittance into Trenwith House were he not a relation.

“But you have read the story of Fanny Hill?” he inquired, holding up the book.

“I have.”

He walked over and handed it to her. “Read a passage that excites you.”

“It is rather dark.”