Darcy's Fortune Read online

  Moaning with pleasure, she complied and was able to accept the full length of his huge shaft as he stroked her more deeply now. On fire for him and trembling with eagerness, she clutched his buttocks, pulling him toward her.

  "It's too soon, love," he murmured, raining kisses over her face.

  Shuddering, she clutched his shoulders, marveling at the length and power of his fiery maleness. Stroking, caressing, whispering endearments, he moved rhythmically until she thought she would faint from the fire building in her loins. Sighing with emotion, she totally abandoned herself to passion, and he thrust into her faster and harder as he urged her toward sweet fulfillment. She was unaware of everything but him, and it was as if they were no longer two people, but one, their hearts singing together.

  With a cry of joy, she clutched his lean hips, wanting the pleasure to go on forever. At last his hot seed burst inside her and she shuddered with a heart-shaking climax.

  For long moments, they glided to the heavens, then they slowly floated earthward together, their spirits bound in ecstasy. With tender kisses and soft caresses, they clung to each other. As she struggled for breath, he turned on his side and held her in his arms, caressing her full creamy breasts. Even now, the secret place between her legs throbbed, pleasure radiating from her loins and rolling over her stomach and legs.

  As he moved his hands over her body in the wake of their overpowering passion, tears slid from her eyes and her skin glowed from his touch. She could feel his heart beating against hers as he cradled her in his arms. At last her breathing slowed and she felt herself sinking deeper into the mattress.

  As she floated on a hazy sea of satisfaction and fulfillment, exhaustion overtook her and she slept in total pleasure for a short while, dreaming wonderful things. Then she felt Darcy stir at her side, and she clasped his hand and slept again, drifting into velvety darkness.

  Chapter Two

  SLEEPILY, ELIZABETH opened her eyes and watched rosy light filter into her bedroom from between the draperies. The second-story window of the parsonage stood open a bit and cool air wafted into the room, bringing with it the deep-throated trill of a lark and the sound of the postman's rattling delivery wagon. For a moment, confusion muddled her thoughts, then, as she stared at the diffused light, joy flooded through her in a warm tide, for she remembered that she and Darcy had made love. It touched her deeply that he had escorted her back to the parsonage and her own bed so her honor wouldn't be compromised.

  Contentment filled her as she felt the soft sheet against her naked breasts, and her body tingled with wonderful new sensations. Delightful memories crowded her mind as she thought of their lovemaking and she tried to remember everything about it: the feel of Darcy's muscled back under her fingertips, the look in his passionate eyes as he caressed her breasts, the musky man-scent of him, the feel of his warm breath upon her cheek, the sound of his low husky voice as he urged her toward her climax. For a while she let herself float upon these memories like a lily upon a sun-warmed pond, but then her mind began to spin.

  Pushing herself up on the lace-trimmed pillows, she tried to remember everything that had happened and been said last night. Despite her initial protests in the library, she had enjoyed every minute of their lovemaking. She remembered he had spoken tender endearments and praised her beauty—but he had never told her outright that he loved her. Nor had he made any commitment of marriage to her. As these thoughts hit her full force, her stomach felt heavy and nauseous. Surely he would have no use for her now, except as a lover.

  Someone in his exalted position would never marry a young lady whom had given herself to him like a common woman of the streets. Knowing he was an early riser, she wondered where he was at this very moment. Perhaps he had gone to the village for breakfast, hoping she would leave Kent before he got back, she thought, depression seeping through her like molten lead.

  Flushing with embarrassment, she wondered if anyone had heard them make love, then she told herself that the owner of Rosings Park, the esteemed Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had already retired for the evening. As for the servants, they were fast asleep after a hard day's work. No, she was sure no one knew of their lovemaking but her...and she would never forget it.

  She ran a hand through her tousled hair, despair overtaking her. In her heart she knew she could have resisted him, but she had abandoned herself to a maelstrom of passion and thrown away any chance of respectability. How could he ever bear to look at her after what had happened?

  True, he had carried her to his bedroom and masterfully awakened all her senses, introducing her to a secret world of unknown pleasures. But in all honesty, she had welcomed his advances, and her own body had burned for fulfillment. Her throat ached with tears and she closed her eyes once more, praying for strength. She felt as empty as a drained eggshell.

  She pressed a hand to her throat, trying to think what she must do to salvage the scraps of her dignity. With an exhausted sigh, she propped herself up on one elbow and glanced around the room, seeing her lavender gown and discarded undergarments draped over the back of a chair. Blood stung her cheeks and her heart pounded faster as she remembered how he had skillfully removed her clothes and lightly cast them aside. She had been ecstatic with joy then, just as she now had to deal with the consequences of her rash actions. Controlling her racing thoughts, she suddenly realized that she must put on her clothes and leave Darcy and return home.

  Quickly getting out of bed, she opened her wardrobe and selected a gown, comforting herself with the thought that she had always been able to take care of herself. She didn't need Darcy or any other man to see to her affairs. After she had dressed as best as she could without the assistance of a maid, she began pulling other gowns from her wardrobe. She would need just a few things to tide her over until she could make a fresh start, she thought, trying to stir up her courage. As she frantically tossed garments on the unmade bed, she felt a great urgency to leave before she had an embarrassing encounter with Mr. Darcy.

  Returning to the wardrobe, she pulled out a pair of slippers and added them to the pile on the bed. How would she carry everything? She wondered with a rush of panic. If she could locate the groom at this early hour, she could probably talk him into finding a coach for her. Doubtless he would try to dissuade her from leaving, but she would stand firm in her resolve to go.

  Hearing footfalls in the hall, she froze, hoping desperately that it was a maid, but knowing by the heaviness of the step that it was not. Her heart lurched and she stiffened when she heard a soft rap on the door, then the sound of it opening. It was her cousin Mr. Collins announcing Darcy's arrival downstairs, and that he had wished to speak with her.

  Humiliation rose up within her at the thought of seeing Darcy, but then, with a flash of insight, she realized that the only things she had brought into this parsonage were a few clothes and her pride. No one could touch her pride—no one could take it away from her.

  Swallowing back her embarrassment, she entered the small sitting room and looked up into Darcy's face, her heart fluttering. A fine brown riding coat garbed his large frame, and he looked as if he had not slept. His features were drawn, but his warmly erotic eyes, glistening with sensuality, and tousled hair heightened his masculine appeal and made her want him all the more.

  She stood motionless, loving him and hating him at the same time, as she had loved and hated the passion that had brought them to this pass. Her heart raced wildly and she could not speak.

  "How are you?" he asked quietly. His voice was calm, but concern lingered in his tone.

  "I am leaving," she answered, trying to hold back her emotions.

  He leaned back against the fireplace mantel, his eyes wide and intense. "How can you even talk about leaving?"

  She struggled to control her faltering voice. "What role can I play here? We both know that I'm not suited to be your wife." Her lips quivered.

  A strange look passed over his face, and then he straightened, the hint of a smile playing about his l
ips. "On the contrary," he drawled, "I feel that you would make an excellent wife."

  His resonant voice sounded deeply within her and it seemed that all the breath had left her body. Her heart pumped even faster now, and for an instant her eyes dimmed with tears. Could she actually be hearing these words? Surely she had misunderstood him.

  When he walked to her and clasped her shoulders, her heart fluttered and she felt as if the morning sun was traveling within her, filling her with its warmth. "I want you to become my wife," he said in his deep voice that sent excitement darting through her. "We'll get married quietly in a few days. Afterwards we'll go to Pemberley."

  She pulled in a trembling breath. His proposal had totally disarmed her and she gazed at him in awe. He had said the words she'd secretly hoped he might say, but in the deepest part of her heart never believed she would hear. For a fleeting second, tingling joy expanded within her, then sudden heartache made her throat tighten with sadness. He didn't love her, really love her. He was only fulfilling his duty.

  "Leave me with a bit of my pride," she finally managed in a rough voice. "You don't mean what you're saying. We were born in different worlds, and we belong in different worlds. You can't be certain what will happen if—"

  "Hush," he interrupted, caressing her shoulders with firm sweeping strokes. "I've been up all night and have given the matter a great deal of thought. I'm sure this will be best." His eyes kindled with a tender look. "You're just tired...overwrought."

  "But I—"

  He moved his warm hands over her arms, gentling and soothing her as if she were an upset child. His closeness made it difficult for her to move or even think. She had vowed to leave, but faced with such emotion she found herself weakening. She had started melting when he first entered the room, and now the sight of his tall, heavily muscled body and arrogant face stirred memories of their night of love and made her blood race with longing. Searching for words, she stared at him, unable to speak.

  "Well, what do you say?" He gave her a soft smile and raised his brow.

  She studied his intense eyes, knowing her will was sliding away by the second. "We haven't settled things," she muttered helplessly, her heart beating hard against her rib cage.

  He laughed softly. "We'll settle them as we go along— just like most people." His eyes glistened with emotion, and as he molded her softness against him, her flesh tingled with anticipation. Lowering his head, he brushed her lips with his and sent a racing flame of passion through her body. She trembled against him; then his arms were about her, pulling her closer. When he hungrily took her mouth, she yielded gladly, relishing the warmth, and taste, and scent of him.

  Darcy pulled her closer to him, feeling her pounding heartbeat against his chest and her quickened breathing. How refreshing and exciting she was, he thought, savoring the warmth of her body and sweet scent of her hair. He slowly traced his hand over her tense back, making her relax into his embrace. He had kissed dozens of women before, but none could compare to Elizabeth. She was so fresh and genuine, so unlike any other woman he had ever known.

  Gently breaking the kiss, Darcy smiled down at her. "I was taught to take silence as compliance...so I'm assuming you've accepted my proposal."

  Her heart too full to speak, she gave him a tremulous smile and nodded.

  He studied her face for a moment, then kissed her cheeks and eyelids. She had become so precious to him, he couldn't bear to think of anyone hurting her. After taking her hand and kissing her cool fingertips, he eased her away from him. "We will leave for Longbourn today. I'll speak to your father about the marriage," he said in a warm, satisfied tone. "I'm sure he'll be delighted." For a moment, he watched light catch in her long locks, then, with great tenderness, he brushed back a wisp of hair from her rosy cheek. After filling his eyes with her to set her image into his mind, he finally turned and walked from the room.

  Elizabeth felt heavy layers of uncertainty and fatigue washed over her. She moved to a chair by the window and sat down. Her mind whirled. There was so much she had wanted to say to Darcy, so many arguments she had wanted to make, but his promise of intimacy and sweet passion had overwhelmed all her good intentions.

  As the events of the last five minutes sank in, her heart leaped with excitement. Mr. Darcy had actually asked her to marry him, and she had accepted. Sinking back into the chair, she blinked in disbelief, marveling at her transformation. It was too much to be believed!

  She suddenly wondered if she could act the part of wife. After they were married she would technically belong in society, but would she really fit in? Would she be able to fulfill her position and not compromise Darcy or make him ashamed of her? The loyalty of Darcy's good name was unquestionable.

  FOUR DAYS LATER, ELIZABETH whirled about as her mother knocked, then entered the bedroom, followed by a maid who carried tea and toast on a silver tray. "You didn't come down for breakfast, Lizzy, and it's ten o'clock already," she announced with a smile. "I thought you might want a little something to calm your nerves, this being your wedding day."

  Dressed in a rose-colored gown and wearing a little ribbon ornament in her hair, the old lady looked soft and sweet, and the tender emotion in her eyes surprised Elizabeth.

  "Yes...thank you, Mama," Elizabeth answered, hastily brushing back her loose hair.

  Mrs. Bennet took her hand and pressed it affectionately. "My dear, I can't tell you how excited I am that you're going to be Mr. Darcy's bride...that he will be in the family." Her eyes glistened with tears of happiness. "And ten thousand a year! It's all so romantic." She fluttered her eyelashes. "I had hoped a marriage might occur, but to see my hopes materialize is thrilling beyond belief. It's as if fate itself had destined you to be together."

  Elizabeth felt a rush of tenderness for Mrs. Bennet, and with amusement, noticed that her hair ornament was drooping to the side. After securing it so it wouldn't slip from the old lady's hair, she kissed her wrinkled cheek. "Thank you, Mama. I am happy you are pleased." She gave a soft chuckle.

  They laughed together, then Elizabeth watched the maid place the tray on a table near the bright bedroom windows and pour tea. Jane joined them shortly after, and the chattering threesome removed the wedding dress from a heavily carved wardrobe and fluffed out its trailing skirt.

  As the pair talked, Elizabeth tied the sash of her silken wrapper and sat down by the window to drink her tea and think. After many hours of troubled soul-searching last night, she had finally drifted into a fitful sleep, then an hour ago she'd awakened with a start and realized it was her wedding day. Somewhat guilty that she had slept so long, she'd gone to the windows, pushed back the lacy panels, and watched the summer sun glint over Hertfordshire's hilltops. Too nervous to eat, she had paced about the bedroom, trying to sort out her thoughts.

  Since obtaining her father's blessing, Darcy had been staying at Netherfield Park out of a sense of correctness. For Elizabeth, life had taken on an unreal quality. All the servants at Longbourn had cheerfully accepted the news, and Mrs. Bennet had fussed about, notifying the society papers, planning a small wedding, and accompanying Elizabeth to the dressmaker's shop.

  Elizabeth now surveyed the gorgeous gown as Mrs. Bennet gently laid it over the foot of the bed—it was made of creamy white satin and embroidered with pearls. Darcy had insisted that she have an equally lovely powder-blue traveling gown for their trip north later today.

  At times it seemed that he was really interested in pleasing her, and during these periods, her spirits soared. But when a preoccupied look clouded his eyes, sadness pressed about her heart, and she scoffed at the idea that he might really love her. How could he love her when they came from such drastically different backgrounds? As she sipped her tea, she wondered if those who really belonged to that world would accept her, or would they laugh behind her back?

  Jane glanced at her worriedly. "You're dreaming again, Lizzy," she chided in a tender tone. A ringed hand at her throat, she moved toward the improvised breakfast table. "I must
go downstairs and see how things are coming along, but the maid will dress you." Pulling in a long tremulous breath, she patted Elizabeth's arm. "Now don't look so worried. Everything will be just fine. Hurry and get dressed and I will have your bridal bouquet brought up when we're ready for you." After hugging her sister she hurried from the room.

  When the maid lifted her brows and smiled. Elizabeth put down her teacup and rose, knowing what was expected of her. Forcing down her troubled emotions, she sat on a padded bench at the end of the bed so the girl could smooth silk stockings and embroidered wedding garters on her legs.

  Then she stood, and, slipping off her wrapper, allowed the girl to slip on a chemise and tie it up as tightly as possible. Next she stepped into satin shoes and a petticoat, and the maid tied the dangling petticoat tapes. At last, with the girl's help, Elizabeth eased in the heavy wedding gown, feeling the cool stain skim over her body. When the maid had fastened a long row of tiny buttons down the back of the gown, she turned Elizabeth about and said, "I'm all finished, miss. If you'll move to the vanity table, I'll arrange your hair."

  At the mirrored vanity, the maid brushed Elizabeth's hair until it was glossy and shiny, then, pulling it from the nape of her neck, twisted it into a high chignon and secured it with shiny pearl-studded pins. Bending, the girl arranged the rest of Elizabeth's naturally curly locks into long shining ringlets and let them fall to her shoulders on either side of her head. After dusting her mistress's cheeks with powder and rouge and applying a faintly tinted lip salve, the servant stood back and proudly clasped her hands.

  Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth lifted her chin. In her own eyes she saw doubt, but she couldn't be second-guessing herself and backing out of her commitment. She had made a decision and she must follow through with it. She must behave as a sophisticated lady, not an emotional child.

  The maid began attaching a long wedding veil to Elizabeth's hair, letting it flow down the back of the silky gown. "After I'm done 'ere, I'll be goin', miss, and give you a little time to yourself." When the girl had finished, someone rapped on the door, and Elizabeth glanced up, expecting to see Jane again.