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He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose before claiming her mouth, first tentatively, then with ever increasing passion. Lost in the kiss, his hands slid down to her bottom, drawing her hips hard against his. When at last he began feathering kisses across her jaw to the spot below her ear, she found the strength to speak.

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, I love you so.” Her words instantly sobered him, and he began whispering endearments as his hands moved to safer places, and he buried his face in her hair.

“My love ... my darling ... my Elizabeth.” Stilling his head atop hers, he waited for his heart to stop pounding and his ardour to cool. “I love you more than life.”

It was several moments before he continued. “Forgive me, sweetheart, for I am a beast. You are injured.” He barely touched one bandage. “While I thought only of—”

“Shhh!” she soothed, rising on tiptoes to brush her lips softly across his. This simple act of affection gave him leave to claim her mouth once more, and they were lost as William deepened the kiss with every answering move of her tongue. It was some time before they pulled apart, both panting with desire. She let her head fall back, her loved-filled eyes meeting his half-lidded gaze. “I know it is wanton of me to say, but I desire you just as much as you desire me.”

A great sadness enveloped him, and he sighed. “I fear that if I were to truly show my love for you, it would only do you more harm. You deserve to be more than my mistress.”

“You could never hurt me by loving me. It is you who would suffer, for you ought to have a proper wife and children.”

“And you are worthy of a true marriage! If I cannot have you—have children with you—I will never have another.” He pulled her closer, clinging to her desperately. “Do not ask me to let you go, for I cannot.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, tears slipping from beneath dark lashes. “We are both lost.”

He kissed the tears away, and she tried to smile. “And I thought I was strong enough to leave you—”

“No, please,” he whispered as more quick kisses from her stopped his protest. She took a deep breath, caressing his face, and studying it as though trying to memorise every part.

“If I were not selfish, I would have left days ago ... for your sake and for your safety. But, God forgive me, I cannot stop wanting your love.”

Suddenly she leaned back, lifting her shoulders with new confidence. “I have decided. I will be your mistress, have your children. You can send me away to your home in Scotland or Ireland—anywhere—and no one will ever know. If I stay here, it will only cause your ruin and put you in harm’s way.”

He clasped her so tightly that she could barely breathe. “You would be mine, bear my children, knowing we cannot marry?” She nodded against his chest, so he lifted her chin up, willing her to look at him.

Seeing the concern in his eyes, she responded, “I will have your children ... no one else’s.”

He kissed her then, willing everything he felt in his heart into the kiss and feeling Elizabeth’s love for him as she returned it with equal fervour. As he quit the kiss, he began talking animatedly.

“I know a vicar who I believe will perform a marriage ceremony for us, though he may not be able to keep official records. I shall write to him today. Until then, I ...” His lips curved into a small smirk. “We must check our desires.”

He crushed her to his chest again. “You have made me the happiest of men, Elizabeth. I shall never love anyone but you, my darling. In my heart, you will be my wife. I shall provide for you and our children in my will. Georgiana and Evan will know everything, along with Richard. They will take care of you and our children if anything should ever happen to me.”

“Do not speak of such things!” she pleaded. “I could not live without you ever again.”

“Richard should be returning to London soon and when he does we shall travel together. It will give me the chance to meet with my solicitors to add provisions in my will for you and our future children. But, you must know this, wherever you decide you want to live— my estate in Scotland or Ireland— I will live with you. I have no intention of ever being parted from you again.”

This time when his mouth claimed hers, it was with more tenderness than passion. He tried not to think of his own desires, and kissing across to her ear, he whispered, “Soon, my love. Soon.”

~~~*~~~

Chapter 25

Pemberley

The Balcony

The air was crisp and breezy, and though it was still quite dark, the first faint signs of dawn were underway by the time Elizabeth walked out onto the balcony. She dearly loved to watch the sun rise over this beautiful place, so she remained there, wrapping her arms tightly about her thin dressing gown to thwart the cold. Waiting patiently for the first rays of light, she considered for the hundredth time her decision to stay—to be his. She supposed she should feel ashamed, but that feeling was not the one with which she grappled this morning.

Being with William inspired feelings unfamiliar to her—a stirring somewhere deep within. It was ever-changing...sometimes a tingling and other times a fire. Her only certainty was that once it ceased, she longed to experience it again. She had known the anguish of unrequited love, the torture of a broken heart and despair so deep it had brought her to the brink of madness, but she had known little happiness. And never, never, had she felt anything so consuming as her craving for him. She blushed to acknowledge her malady—it was desire, pure blissful desire.

Naturally, she also contemplated the effect she had on him. That he desired her was obvious—his body betrayed that fact every time he held her close to him. Even now, butterflies took flight in her stomach at the memory of his hardness pressed against her. But beyond the physical attraction, what she found most fulfilling was the assurance that he truly loved her...had loved her for years. She could not hold back a smile from her lips. Fitzwilliam Darcy loves me!

Her thoughts returned to her earlier musings. If those warm, sensual feelings were just a prelude to the act of marriage, then she was certain that to love Fitzwilliam would not be a duty to dread as her mother had always lamented to her daughters, but instead would be a pleasure to anticipate. Unbidden, the image of another bare-chested man appeared to taunt her. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to purge Stefano’s face from her thoughts. He had been cruel, insisting she respond to his kisses when she felt nothing for him save disgust, and becoming more abusive when she did not.

In contrast, she welcomed Fitzwilliam’s gentleness, his touches, his kisses. Forcing her thoughts to focus on her heart’s desire, a strange thing happened—she felt his presence. Eyes still tightly closed, she pictured her beloved there with her and whispered his name almost as a prayer—“William.”