Passion cresting until neither wished to hold back, tumbling over as souls melded in the process. Immediately, Darcy pulled her upward and onto his burning chest, enveloping her with trembling arms and delivering moist kisses along her glistening neck as he panted with gradually declining rapture.

“Elizabeth, my beautiful love, my soul, my delight and life. How amazing you love me! My joy is fulfilled with you, so perfect you are.” Lizzy tarried in a place of heavenly stupefaction, allowing his words of veneration to wash over her consciousness as his hands tenderly caressed her arms.

“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “I love you.” Darcy smiled with supreme happiness, brushing her lips and then sweeping her into his arms, carrying her to the bed.

They nestled close, face to face with hands entwined and fingers lightly caressing. Darcy played with her lush curls, a favorite pastime, while Lizzy feathered through the downy hairs on his chest. All the while eyes mere inches apart were locked in a loving gaze, one or the other frequently leaning for a kiss. Oddly, considering their busy day and recent strenuous activity, neither felt overly tired.

Darcy brushed over the satin of her gown. “You never told me where you bought this scandalous gown.”

Lizzy giggled. “Scandalous? Madame du Loire is French and you know the reputation they have! Apparently, it is well founded as she creates an entire line of such decadent garments for clients so inclined. I must have an invisible sign stamped on me for those able to discern that shouts, ‘Her husband is insatiable and she is licentious.’ The third time I visited her shop for a fitting, she brought out the short chemise from Christmas Eve that you so love.” Darcy smiled salaciously in remembrance. Lizzy continued with a laugh, “Yes, I think I must have had a similar expression on my face, beloved, for when she asked me how I ‘enjoyed’ the chemise, suddenly a dozen scanty bedroom garments appeared, each more scandalous than the last. So now I have a collection and don a new one every so often for the humorous cast of your face when you see me, not to mention the sexual delights as a result.” She kissed his chuckling lips.

“I shall have to extend my appreciation to Madame du Loire,” he said, stroking enticingly down her waist and hip.

“You shall do no such thing, William! I would die of embarrassment. I still blush scarlet when she shows me her latest creation.”

“Yet, you purchase it,” Darcy interjected with a grin.

“Well, of course! Mortified speechless I may be, but not stupid. I am abundantly thankful she knows my size and I need not have them fit. Again, it is all your fault, but the sensations rushing through my body when I wear one of these filmy lingerie, as the French call them, are most inappropriate for a public house!”

“I wonder if Marguerite knows of such French delicacies. I do hope so, for my valet's sake.” Darcy ran the back of two fingers along the swell of her breast under the bodice.

Lizzy laughed. “Well, if she did not before, she does now, as she helps me dress and launders my undergarments. I deem Samuel will be quite satisfied, especially if his shy nature harbors great passion as it does with you, my heart.”

Darcy blushed faintly, hiding his humility within her bosoms for a spell of nuzzling and kissing. Lizzy released a sigh of pleasure, kissing the top of his head. His muffled voice rose from where his lips were planted firmly on one nipple, “How many of these lingerie did you bring on this trip, my wife? Perhaps we should forego our plans for the morrow and stay inside.” He rose with a hopeful, questioning look to his wife, but Lizzy giggled and shook her head.

“Forgive me, lover, for disappointing, but I only brought this one.” She laced her fingers through his hair, smiling happily and tickling her lips over his. “However,” she whispered breathily, “I do not judge the positive effects of this particular gown have yet been utterly exhausted.” With a last nip to his full lower lip, she twisted from his grasp and stood on the bed.

Darcy smiled lasciviously, eyes brazenly grazing every inch of her head to toe. Lizzy flushed, boldly inventorying his physique as he was hers. Then she laughed, tossing her hair with a flip of her head and sweep of her hands. Arms raised over her head, she stretched, breasts jutting perkily and the bulge of the baby clearly defined by the clinging satin. Darcy continued to grin, groin already responding to all the marvelous attributes of his bride.

“You see,” Lizzy spoke softly, fingers skimming airily down her neck toward her chest, “this is fine satin. A silk woven fabric that clings yet also glides and flows. Black as the night to contrast with ivory skin”—she brushed along her cleavage—“thin to display a hint of what hides underneath”—she lightly circled each visible nipple with one finger and Darcy licked his suddenly dry lips—“yet covering much of the skin to spark the imagination and tantalize.”

She stroked over her hips and thighs, continuing huskily while Darcy's excitement manifested before her eyes. She undulated her hips, the long tails of the gown fluttering about her legs. “Note how it moves? So soft, cool to the touch, erotic in how it caresses the skin. Very, very, very stimulating,” she whispered, eyes open a mere slit as she observed her husband's avid passion.

Darcy groaned audibly. “Elizabeth,” he murmured.

Lizzy smiled naughtily. “I watch you, my handsome husband, in all your masculine glory. The memory of how you incite me coupled with the sensation of smooth satin encasing and caressing my body, and I am immeasurably aroused. I imagine you touching me, kissing me, loving me, and I lose all sense of anything but you.” Lizzy was truly growing highly excited, but no more so than Darcy, who was unable to speak in his hunger for her.

With a thirsty glance, she wheezed, “Does this spur your ardor, my lover? Do you want to take me now, hard and fast?”

Darcy snapped, sitting up and grasping her legs as Lizzy fell onto the bed. Within seconds he was over her, skirt rapidly moved aside, and he claimed her with a hoarse growl. It was over in seconds, yet still rapturous and intense. It was rushed, manic, dynamic, glorious, and wholly fulfilling.

Collapsing in consummate bliss, Darcy rolled to the side with her encased in his arms. “Elizabeth Darcy, you take my breath away, literally.” He inhaled deep and shuddering, laughing shakily. “No sooner do I think I have reached the boundary of how far I can be aroused by you then you push me beyond. How will I survive this continual physical exertion?” He kissed her head and she laughed tremulously.

“Your heart is strong, beloved. I trust you will survive brilliantly. Of course, if you deem it too much for you, I can desist.” She kissed his chest, lifting to gaze at his smiling, joyous face. He twisted a tress of her hair around his fingers, profound love emanating from every pore and beaming through his eyes.

“No, my Lizzy, do not desist. I shall take my chances.” He clasped her face, drawing her to his mouth. “I love you, Elizabeth, forever.”

“I love you, William, beyond forever.” They kissed languidly, tenderly, faithfully. Endlessly kissing and embracing, gentle caresses of devotion continued until sleep overtook them.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Touring Derbyshire

The following three days were passed exclusively in sightseeing. Each day would begin with breakfast at the inn after which they would set out upon a new adventure abroad. Darcy rented a cabriolet, the newest carriage model from France, similar to a barouche but much lighter and swifter with a folding canvas calash hood and rear window. This particular cabriolet was designed to accommodate a separate driver mounted on the back, but Darcy preferred solitude and control, so operated the vehicle himself.

The first day, they headed east toward Nottinghamshire. The country, once beyond Derby town limits, was exclusively devoted to agriculture. The plethora of rivers and streams created a lush land of vegetation, ample water supply, and numerous fisheries. Darcy confessed he had only twice traveled through the region to the east of Derby, once to travel to Nottingham itself on business, whereupon he grasped the opportunity to tour Sherwood Forest. Alas, the forest and numerous Robin Hood museums scattered throughout the area were too far north for them to comfortably reach on this trip.

“Something to anticipate for another excursion, my love,” he placated, kissing her pouting lips.

As they set out, Darcy began his narrative of the vicinity. Both Darcys had discovered to their immense delight that they were lovers of history. Darcy, as a fortunate result of his birth, had the means to quench his thirst for ancient history, architecture, and ruins. He confessed to Lizzy that he often believed that, if he had been the second son, he would likely have become an explorer or archeologist, such was his love of old buildings and stories. It was not an exaggeration when he told her about tramping through old ruins in France to the dismay of Bingley.

Lizzy, sadly, had not been blessed from birth with the resources to travel beyond the confines of Hertfordshire. Instead, she embraced what history was found in her familial environs, frequented the various old houses, churches, and ruins nearby, and immersed herself in every book she could find. She surprised Darcy in possessing a fair knowledge of obscure English history, including Derbyshire. The truth is, she confessed, she had researched the area prior to her trip with the Gardiners and more extensively once they were engaged. This information pleased Darcy tremendously, and now he was fulfilling a dream of sharing such treasures with his wife. Of course, for Darcy it was also another positive entry on the long list indelibly etched on his heart of why Elizabeth Bennet was the only woman in the entire world meant for him.