Lizzy arched and moaned softly, “Fitzwilliam, I want you so. Please, take me to our room.”

Darcy smoothed the hair from her face, cupping her cheeks as he kissed with sensual intoxication. “I love you, my Elizabeth,” he murmured, “so beautiful you are in the moonlight.” In tandem he rubbed his palms over her neck to shoulders, onto both breasts for gentle fondling, downward with tender strokes as he whispered words of adoration mingled with seductive kisses. “Tonight, my beloved wife, I shall love you in our bed until you are screaming in uncontrollable ecstasy. Tomorrow we shall steal away to the copse amongst the willows and there we shall make love with the moonlight and stars shimmering over your skin. All day I shall envision you there, under my body, entwined and joined with me. Will you too imagine us there, precious love, so that your ardor will equal mine?”

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly with a nod, meeting his crystal eyes. Darcy ran one hand under her skirt to her bottom, the other tangled in her flowing hair as he teased her with the tip of his tongue softly flickering over her ear and elsewhere, returning to her mouth for further plundering.

“My love. My eternal love. How I need you,” he groaned as he circled her body, powerful arms lifting her off her feet and onto the hard planes of his chest. Darcy buried his face into the satin flesh of her neck, inhaling vigorously. “Yes, I must take you to our room immediately before I ravish you right here! God, how you arouse me Elizabeth!” He stood her onto her feet, yet holding tightly in shaking arms with forehead resting on hers as he fought for control.

Suddenly he chuckled. “If any of the servants see me on the way upstairs, I shall never have the nerve to face them.”

Lizzy laughed too, reaching down to stroke the indication of his passion, eliciting a throaty groan. “Do you honestly believe your prowess and our frequent bedroom activities are not already a topic amongst the staff?”

Darcy looked at her in surprise. “Whatever do you mean?” He started to add something ludicrous about the fine staff of Pemberley never gossiping about their Master, but her laughter halted him.

“Truly, William, at times I think you more naïve than I! Servants are simple folk and do not possess the vaunted and rigid moral proprieties of the elite. Trust me, I can recall more than a few overheard conversations between the maids at Longbourn, not to mention the field workers. Samuel and Marguerite are the only two who see the vivid evidence of our love, and I trust them implicitly, but the others are not imbeciles and can do elementary deductions.”

Darcy was actually blushing furiously, peering into the darkened windows as if he expected to see an audience of eyes staring back. Lizzy was laughing harder by the second as she took his hand and led him toward the door.

Caroline watched them move slowly toward the door, pausing several times for fresh kisses and extremely intimate caresses, finally disappearing from view. Her breath was shallow, cheeks flushed, and body trembling with strange sensations. She had distinctly seen it all and did not need to hear their words to know that she had witnessed a scene of indescribable intimacy and raging passion. Caroline Bingley, like most well-bred young ladies, was largely ignorant of the finer details of marital relations. The occasionally borderline naughty twittering among her friends, maidens all, was vague and steeped in misinformation anyway. Caroline did not have a mother or close female relative with which to discuss such things, her sister Louisa far too prudish to even consider, aside from the fact that she had never remotely been curious. Caroline was mercenary and narcissistic by nature, passion for anything other than clothing or jewels not of interest to her. Marriage was a necessity to fulfill those desires and if intimacy entered into the proposition, so be it. The idea of marital relations being pleasurable had never crossed her mind or entered her awareness.

However, there was absolutely no denying that what she had beheld in the garden were two people deeply in love and also obtaining tremendous pleasure from each other's touch. It was also astoundingly clear, and the blush to her face increased at the remembrance, that there was far more to come. Yes, she had seen it all and despite the lingering mystery of the love act, Caroline was not a total idiot and could form deductions of her own!

Quite unexpectedly, the vision of Sir Wallace Dandridge entered her mind. He was a fairly handsome man in his mid-thirties, of medium height with blonde hair and a lovely smile. Caroline had been so focused on Mr. Darcy for the past several years that she had given little thought to any other. Sir Dandridge had barely entered her consciousness, despite her friendship with his youngest sister. This season, Mr. Darcy no longer a possibility, Caroline had seriously cast about for the logical replacement, successfully working her magic on a number of eligible bachelors. Of all the hopefuls, Sir Dandridge was the most persistent, if not as wealthy as she may prefer.

Caroline smiled and closed her eyes as the image of his kind face appeared. Dreamily she conjured the fantasy of him kissing her as Mr. Darcy had kissed Elizabeth. With tingles of a strange variety fluttering through her, Caroline eventually returned to her room where dreams of a unique nature would invade.

Meanwhile, the Darcys ascended the flights of narrow stairs, halting a dozen times for breathless kisses and cuddles. Only once were they required to quickly duck behind a corner to avoid a maid heading toward the basement. Darcy covered Lizzy's mouth to prevent escaping giggles, but utilized the interruption to press into her soft body. Once safely behind the latched door of their chambers, Darcy grabbed his wife and pulled her roughly against his body for a passionate kiss. His fingers nimbly attacked the buttons to her gown as they stepped toward the bedchamber. Clothes fell randomly as they were discarded until, naked, they tumbled onto their bed in a tangle of limbs.

Laughing, they panted and kissed and groped and squeezed all while attempting to navigate to the middle of the enormous bed. Lying on their sides as they faced each other to caress and kiss, the tactile enhancement continuing for some time. Few words were uttered, even Darcy caught up in a state of rapturous delirium inducing voiceless hunger. They loved slowly then with increased intensity, Darcy mesmerized by his wife. She was so beautifully sensuous and he experienced a fresh rush of amazement that she was his and, most profoundly, that she loved him as she did. In all his years of hoping and dreaming for a marriage based on love, and as self-awareness of his sexual desires matured, he refused to allow himself to imagine that he would actually find someone who would fulfill both cravings. Astoundingly, Elizabeth was such a woman. The fact that she was his for the entirety of his life was frequently a phenomenon that quite literally staggered him.

Darcy's own excitement was nearly unbearable in its intensity, but he held himself in check, preferring to further heighten his arousal by observing the fervor and gratification of his wife. Darcy enfolded her in his arms with overwhelming joy. She was trembling and inhaling raggedly yet ceaselessly planting kisses over his shoulders and neck. Darcy smoothed her tousled hair from a perfect, dewy brow as he kissed her, murmuring soft words of adulation. She rose, eyes glazed with satisfaction as she looked at him and tenderly touched his face.

“William,” she whispered, “I could not wait. You excite me so! What you do to me is indescribable.” She closed her eyes, shuddering still. Releasing a prolonged gush of air as she nuzzled her lips over his. “My love, my own. Ask anything of me and it is yours. How can I please you, best beloved?”

Darcy smiled and laughed lowly. “Lizzy, my Lizzy, do you not yet understand that my greatest pleasure is in bringing you joy? The fact that you love me so awesomely as to attain such dynamic rapture is a joy transcending my own. Merely holding you and feeling your trembling is heaven.”

His words were truth; nonetheless, the ache of his need could not be denied. He sat up with her encased in his arms, hands all over her body. He devoted a period of time to her constantly changing breasts, far fuller and heavier than when they married as they prepared for their baby. All the changes of her maturing body—some related to pregnancy, but others a result of a natural blossoming from their intimacy—incited him. It was not at all an exaggeration or opinion based on blind adoration to note that Elizabeth Darcy was luminous and gorgeous beyond what she had been seven months ago.

Darcy loved his wife with growing enthusiasm. If the maids did discuss the Master's prowess, Lizzy thought with a smile, they would undoubtedly be astonishingly inaccurate. Lizzy rather doubted anyone could match her husband's stamina or mastery. Of course, she had no frame of reference, but anything beyond Darcy's virility would likely incapacitate a woman! In fact, there was many a time when she believed she would faint from the experience and was often left sore and raw, not that it mattered one iota or inhibited her ardor.

Together they rose, passion growing to incomprehensible levels. Finally falling over a cliff of mindless, spiritual jubilance, they merged and were transported to a place of replete fulfillment. Darcy buckled in exhausted satiation, crushing her into the mattress, but Lizzy did not mind. Their son, however, was not as forgiving and began a series of furious punches, causing Lizzy to giggle. “Dearest, your son does not appreciate all this activity,” she declared with a nudge to his inert side.