“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he greeted her with a debonair grin. “Hungry?” Of course, the query was unnecessary, as she was always hungry when she woke these days. He rose as he spoke, crossing to where she stood torn between delight at seeing him so devastatingly handsome and irrational vexation at his tranquility. He kissed her cheek, smoothing her wildly rumpled hair, smiling knowingly as he met her eyes. “Sit, love. What shall I get you?”

He turned toward the breakfast bar, Lizzy speaking but not answering his question, “You were out this morning. Is all well?”

He arched a brow in amusement. “All is according to your well-laid plans, Elizabeth. If they were not, heads would be rolling, I assure you. Marmalade or strawberry jam?”

“Very funny, William!” She retorted, again ignoring his inquiry, although she did flop into her chair with a heavy sigh.

“I was not attempting to be funny, although I suppose heads would not actually roll, but you get the picture. The staff knows what is required and will perform brilliantly. You, Mistress Darcy, are ordered to rest as much as possible today. No argument, Elizabeth,” he said, this last spoken sharply and with a severe glower, Lizzy's mouth snapping shut. “My duty for the day will be to ensure your obedience. How I shall accomplish the feat, I have yet to decide.” He grinned roguishly from the bar, where he was piling her plate high with everything since she seemed unwilling to inform him as to her craving. He returned to her slowly, speaking in a low tone as if perplexed, “Let me think. How can I make certain you lay about at perfect ease, expending minimal energy, engaged in activities delightful and requiring only fundamental cogitation? Hmmm… quite the pickle.”

He handed her the plate, smiling broadly into her frowning face. “Now I am attempting to be funny. Humor is a chore for me, so you should laugh so as not to damage my fragile ego.”

She took the proffered plate with a grunt. “Your ego, Mr. Darcy, is about as fragile as tempered steel, and you are still not funny!” He laughed boomingly and her frown deepened. Nonetheless, she attacked the food, Darcy returning moments later with a cup of tea, still chuckling.

He kissed her forehead then resettled into his chair, peering sidelong as he attended to the newspaper. Lizzy woke famished everyday, weak and shaky from hunger, yet in the end ate not much more than she ever had. Darcy was certainly far from an expert on matters relating to females and pregnancy, but it amazed him how essentially unchanged she was. Her breasts were fuller and darker, with fine veins visible as they had not been previously, her belly seemed daily to swell and she was slightly wider in the hips, yet her waist was as narrow, and viewed from behind, one could not tell she was with child. The remainder of her perfect body was unaltered, Lizzy as svelte as ever. However, she was only at the midpoint of her pregnancy and he knew the majority of their son's growth was yet to come.

Most of the symptoms of pregnancy as related by Dr. Darcy and the text had not affected Elizabeth. Occasionally fatigue would grip her, but generally her stamina was as inexhaustible as always. Her skin remained alabaster and supple, she did not experience the strange food cravings reported, she felt no pains or further muscle tingling in her back or hips, she slept very well, weight gain was minimal, and her sexual appetite was undiminished. George had stressed the importance of exercise, surprising Darcy, as he would have imagined laying about being preferential. Thankfully, this was not so, as Lizzy had no intention of being confined until, as she phrased it, she was too enormous to be evicted from their bed! Since Darcy simply could not fathom this, he rather expected she would be trudging the Pemberley gardens mere hours before their son arrived.

With visions of a waddling, rotund wife navigating the rose garden, Darcy chuckled lowly and seriously studied the paper. Lizzy finished her meal, about a third of what her husband had piled onto the plate, irritation vanishing along with her hunger. Naturally, Darcy was correct again. The staff would execute all details brilliantly, not only because they were loyal and stellar, but because their own entertainment depended on flawless implementation. In fact, her part to play was essentially complete. Even if a few minor snares or mishaps occurred, the entertainment planned was such that no one would be leaving having not enjoyed themselves fully.

She sighed, sipped her tea in peaceful silence for a spell, and then turned her musings to Darcy's jesting allusion to bedroom activities. Scrutinizing him unobtrusively, Lizzy smiled a slow and decidedly decadent grin. He sat once again with legs stretched onto the ottoman, crossed at the ankles, one hand holding a coffee cup with index finger tapping on the rim, the other hand gripping the paper while he read the finance page with intent examination. His beautiful lips were slightly pursed and those two little creases were fixed between his brows as he read. Lizzy's smile deepened. She loved watching him when he concentrated. The past hectic months had assigned them scant time to merely be together in placid pursuits. With a sudden and profound surge of sheer selfishness, she decided that she would take him at his threat. If he wished her to lie about and relax, then she would do so, but only if he was with her.

Relishing the moment, she candidly and adoringly studied him, allowing internal desires to rise as they invariably did whenever he was near. With a near jolt it occurred to her that he was growing more handsome each day. Perhaps it was just her personal prejudices, but she honestly believed it so. His face was mildly tanned from his daily rides, a faint scattering of tiny freckles across his nose and neck, and his hair was longer, having not been trimmed for several weeks, lending an air of barbarism to his normally cultured mien. Of course, his riding clothes always excited her and being half dressed meant his fine figure was readily visible.

As exemplary as was the masculine whole, equally aesthetic were the individual parts. She still adored his feet: strong and broad with long, straight toes and tiny dark hairs sprouting. His sturdy, elegant hands absolutely drove her insane. The hollow of his throat where a potent heartbeat could always be seen, his luscious neck, and his eyes. Oh God, his eyes! Lizzy continued to marvel at her previous blind stupidity for not at least noticing his eyes: a blue as vivid as the Derbyshire sky, blazing with intelligence and passion yet so sensitive and evocative. How could she not have recognized his beautiful soul as disclosed through his eyes?

Overcome with a flood of raging ardor and an intense need to express her devotion, she rose abruptly, Darcy starting at her sudden move. In seconds she was before him, nudging his legs off the ottoman so she could kneel in between. Darcy smiled, no need to ask her intent as it was clearly written on her face, and divested his hands of their encumbering items so he could twine fingers through her hair. She gazed into his eyes, those amazing eyes now clouding with immediate desire, while running her hands over his calves and feet.

“I love you, Fitzwilliam. Forgive my pique and for not laughing at your jokes. Allow me to offer contrition for my misdeeds.” Smiling impishly, she rose on her knees and leaned in to kiss the throbbing pulse in the hollow of his neck. Darcy sighed happily, closing his eyes as she proceeded to deliver kisses down his chest and abdomen to his powerful thighs.

Lizzy proceeded to gently fondle him in all the ways which drove his passions wildly over the edge. She thrilled at the feminine power rushing through her as his excitement manifested. Now that Lizzy had read through the medical book and better understood the physiologic machinations of male arousal, it astonished her that the sudden rush of blood to his groin did not induce delirium from lack of oxygen to the brain! Of course, she chuckled as he groaned and dropped his head onto the chair; as evidenced by how dazed and befuddled he became, it apparently did nearly induce delirium.

Utilizing the firm and tender movements which she knew aroused him most profoundly, Lizzy adored her husband. The power and manliness of him, all hers to enjoy, titillated her to unbearable levels. Shoving her own excitement to the side for the present, she focused on his pleasure. Darcy was in a haze of passion, overwhelmed with love and adoration for his wife. “Elizabeth,” he whispered roughly, “I love you, God how I love you! Please, please do not stop my love.”

Lizzy did not stop. No initial planned intent of how she ultimately wished to please her husband, she now knew she wanted to concentrate on his satisfaction rather than her own. She knew him well: every gasp, shudder, muscle clench, writhe, wiggle, moan, or murmured word spoke clear volumes as to how he was feeling and where the level of his ardor was. She knew precisely how to bring him the greatest joy, and she did so.

After blissfully bringing him to completion, she nestled onto his lap, nuzzling his sweaty neck. Darcy was yet shivering and gasping. “My love, my husband. How I adore you. Do you have any idea how perfect you are?” She kissed over his face, caressing inside his shirt, Darcy unable to speak. Reaching his lips, she suckled the lower, murmuring, “Is my poor attitude forgiven, beloved?”

Darcy laughed with a harsh bark. “Lord, Lizzy! After what you have done for me I would likely forgive you anything. However, there is nothing to repent for.” He cupped her cheek, smiling with utter contentment and happiness. “Will you stay with me here all day? I know you fret about the Festival but truly all is well, and I find I desperately need you all to myself. I cannot bear another day of sharing you!”