Sharon Lathan - The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

She gasped, resuming with a stuttering inflection. “A strong, prominent nose…”

“Forget the nose,” came a muffled voice.

“Indeed I shall not as the nose is highly important. Must be defined and forceful, making a statement of boldness and distinction. Plus, a perfect nose draws attention to the kissable lips beneath.”

Her words were cut off by abrupt movement. Darcy grasped her by the waist, lifting and pivoting in one powerful, smooth motion until a now naked Lizzy, except for stockings and slippers, was seated on the sofa with him kneeling between her thighs. He swiftly removed his clothing, drew her legs around his waist, and leaned his muscled frame over her smaller one.

“Any other necessary features to complete the package and drive your ardor to unnameable heights?”

She pointedly looked down to where their bodies met. One hand leisurely played over his exposed flesh, while the other entwined into his hair and drew his head closer. She pressed her lips against his earlobe, hot breath tickling deliciously as she whispered words for his hearing only.

Lizzy was correct in that Darcy was not seriously all that jealous of Wickham. His faith in their mutual accord was too tremendous. Nonetheless, he was a possessive man and the sudden entry of his enemy, a one-time rival for his wife’s affections, had upset him in a way he had not anticipated in his fretfulness over other concerns. Lizzy understood this and no matter how ludicrous she found it, and despite her gentle teasing, she wanted to assure him in the most elemental but glorious way that she was his. Only his.

There were no further words uttered. The only sounds were harsh grunts, rasping respirations, and sighing moans as they enjoyed the pleasure derived from each other. Love surged in an electric arc between their flesh and blinding bliss was attained simultaneously.

Later, after heartbeats slowed and lungs refilled with oxygen, the words flowed. But they were only declarations of eternal love and devotion. The topic of Wickham was left alone, neither giving it another second’s contemplation.

Lord and Lady Matlock departed the following day with plans to visit Lady Catherine and the Penaflors at Rosings. Their vacancy was barely felt due to the arrival of Major General Artois’s father and siblings. A different carriage rattled up Netherfield’s drive at sporadic intervals over the ensuing days depositing exuberant guests for the Darcys to greet and interact with.

Every day the women gathered to talk and prepare for Kitty and Randall’s wedding. The atmosphere was one of constant fluttering and laughter. There was not a great deal in the way of wedding arranging left to do, but with six Artois females added to the six Bennet ladies, Georgiana, and Simone, the gaiety was feverish.

The menfolk tended to vacate the manor as often and as early as feasible. The impetus was partly the desire for masculine pursuits and companionship since the weather remained fair with sunshine and blue skies perfect for hunting and long horseback rides. However, undeniably the drive was also to place distance from the females before roped into arranging flowers or, God forbid, weaving ribbons!

Darcy joined the gentlemen on their various jaunts but found the ladies’ giddiness charming. It brought back happy memories of those exhilarating days prior to his marriage. Now, as then, he had no clue what really went on and why it was such a cause of frivolity, but it was part of the female condition and thus oddly comforting to witness. In the evening Lizzy would rattle on about ribbons and flowers and lace and confectionary while he sat with one or both of the boys on his lap, indulgent as he attempted to comprehend it all.

One night he sat by the fire with Alexander and Dog curled against his chest. They watched Lizzy as she rocked the baby and listened to another discourse on the table decorations. Or maybe it was the food itself; Darcy was not sure which. At one point Alexander looked up at his father with a baffled expression that clearly questioned the purpose to the speech. Darcy just shrugged, smiling and winking before nestling his son closer and kissing his forehead. He returned his attention to Lizzy, now saying something about one of the main entrees, a dish with Cornish hens and rosemary gravy, and he perked up, as food was something he could understand to a degree. He did not have too much interest in the actual creation of the food, but did not attain his six-foot-three-inch height and broad bulk without appreciating tasty cuisine!

Kitty contrived extending her stay at Netherfield for three additional nights before the room occupied by her was needed for Randall’s family. Each of those nights she crept along the shadows to the far side of the manor where her lover waited, the door opening when her knuckles barely touched it. He would pull her into the room, pivot with her in his arms and, already kissing her lips, lock the door with one fumbling hand.

Clothing fell in a trail as they frantically groped and kissed their way blindly to the bed, tumbling in a heap of limbs, and joining together in a heated rush. The first time was always furious and fast, the long day of wanting each other producing constant states of arousal that increased drastically as the hours slowly ticked by until a blissful release attained in minutes was necessary. Then they could relax, enjoying the hours with conversation, short periods of sleep, and leisurely loving until dawn.

“I know you must return to Longbourn tomorrow, and it is for the best I suppose, but I do believe these next three days will be the longest of my life.” He smoothed the tangled hair from her face, studying her beauty in the half-light, committing it to memory in hopes it would sustain him in the lonely nights to follow. “How will I ever sleep without you here with me?”

“You have slept little with me here,” she teased.

“Do not be surprised if you are yanked into a linen closet or pulled behind a large bush, kitten. It will just be me showing you how insanely I love and need you.”

“Hmmm, that is not a bad plan. Any particular bushes you had in mind? Just so I can casually stroll by it?”

“Do not tempt me, love,” he grated, burying his face between her breasts and squeezing so tightly the air whooshed out of her lungs. “It was only a jest, although now the image will haunt me. I think I have shed twenty years since meeting you. I am as randy as when a youth.” He laid his head tenderly on one breast, Kitty stroking through his curls. “It may prove my undoing, but I will harshly exert the discipline I know lurks within me somewhere, God knows where it went, and save my energy for when I am truly your husband and have you alone in the cabin. Be prepared, as I intend to keep you completely naked for several days.”

“You already are my husband, Randall, and that is a fine plan as long as you are naked too.”

He rose, grinning lecherously and rolling a nipple between his thumb and finger. “Naked and inside you as often as humanly possible, which lately, to my happy shock, seems to be frequently possible.”

She squirmed, pressing his hand hard into her breast. “Tell me more of this cabin so I can dream of us there.”

“It is in east Hampshire, so will not take us long to get there, thank God. It is owned by a buddy of mine; it is a hunting lodge actually. Small and quaint, but comfortable. I have been there many times. We will have two weeks totally alone, not even any servants. It has been prepared with everything we will need and no one, especially none of my brothers, knows about it. Paradise, it is. Or will be with you there.”

“It does sound heavenly. How about we stay there for the entire month and forget about Bath?”

He laughed, rolling onto his back with her atop. With a simple shift of position and smooth thrust they were already in heaven.

At noon the next day Randall drove the phaeton to Longbourn, needing this time alone with her. As soon as they were out of the sight of Netherfield Kitty leaned against his side, her intention just to be soothed by his closeness, but the sensation of flexing arm and leg muscles as he controlled the horses had the opposite effect.

“Up ahead there is an entire copse of bushes, Major General. Care to inspect them?”

“They look to be lovely bushes, Miss Bennet, but any inspection shall have to wait.” He glanced at her dimpled face, smiling and giving a quick peck to her nose. “I have decided to salvage what remnants of control and decorum I possess and behave in a manner befitting an officer and a gentleman. Then again, maybe I am simply imagining how incredible our wedding night will be after three days without you.”

“It will be incredible in any case, because then I will be yours completely, in every way, and you will be mine.” She stretched to kiss across his jaw while one hand tickled up the inside of his thigh. Randall groaned and gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white. Just as he began to think the copse would be inspected after all, resolutions be damned, she withdrew, sliding over the seat as far as possible. “But you are correct, on all counts. I will remember that I am a proper young lady with a measure of restraint in there somewhere. I shall be good, I promise,” she finished, her smirk contradicting that claim.

“After we are married you can forget that promise.”

Her answer was laughter.

The days passed pleasantly with none of the drama Darcy had feared. The local gentlemen of Meryton welcomed the visitors with open arms, offering a wealth of diversions both day and night. Sir Lucas organized an impromptu tournament of games at the pub with Darcy again proving his superiority at billiards while Richard soundly trounced everyone at darts. Area families of distinction held dinner parties every night, Netherfield included one other time. Through all of this activity Wickham conducted himself with the utmost civility. He frequently was not present, his time spent in amusements unknown. Yet when he was present he was polite, charming, and strangely unobtrusive, fading into the background and doing nothing to draw attention.