Page 112 of Rumours & Recklessness
“Not likely. I am bundling you in my arms and taking you directly to bed, Mrs Darcy.”
“William! What will everyone say?”
“What they have been saying since you came here—that you are the best thing to ever happen to me.” He lifted her a little closer for a sweet kiss.
“Flattery will avail you nothing, sir.”
“No, but this usually does.” He pressed her lips in a deeper kiss, encouraging her to welcome his tender caresses. His generous Elizabeth never denied him! They remained so for several delicious, speechless moments. At length, he was forced of necessity to set her feet again on the ground, but he was unwilling to relinquish her quite yet. He backed her against a wall, cupping her face in his hands and continuing his passionate ministrations.
Eventually, she pressed her hand to his chest. “William, do not forget that Charles and Jane expected to arrive by this evening,” she reminded him softly.
“They are not here yet, and I intend to make the most of our privacy,” he murmured into her cheek.
“And I have not had a letter from my father in nearly ten days.” She arched her neck, shivering as his lips travelled down her jaw.
“You cannot mean….” He ceased his attentions to her milky skin, drawing back in mild alarm.
“He did make you promise to welcome him at any time he saw fit! I know Mama has been badgering him to bring her here. She is most anxious to see the prize I have captured.”
“Oh, so it truly is Pemberley you desired, and not me.” He quirked an eyebrow at his saucy little wife.
“Of course, it is, but I have found the Master of Pemberley to be rather engaging as well, particularly when he steps in to rescue me from a dreadful fate! Now, were you going to save me from this approaching snowstorm?”
“Indeed, and it seems I must hurry, for I believe I detect some frostbite… here… and here….” He indicated the endangered places of her person with his warm lips. “In fact, Mrs Darcy, I do not think I can be at all easy until I have inspected every… little… part… of you.”
“Far be it from me to reject such noble aid,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side and closing her eyes in rapturous enjoyment.
“Come, then.” He wrapped her in his arms once more, lifting her easily and beginning the march to the house. “If I am to face dangerous elements and wild beasts…”
“William!” she cried in mock offence.
“… I require a little fortification,” he continued firmly. “It is your duty, my dear lady, to render such succour—for the good of the estate.”
She laced her fingers around his shoulders, tipping her head back playfully. At last, she offered a resigned sigh. “The things I put up with to be Mistress of Pemberley!”
“A hardship, to be sure,” he agreed. “Sadly for you, the master is rather particular and will accept no substitutes.”
“Heisa most trying fellow. If only he would speak once in a while, so one might determine his true sentiments.”
“I should have thought them rather obvious,” he grinned, quickening his pace toward the house. “He is quite violently in love, utterly bewitched body and soul, and is happiest when in the arms of his dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”
“Then he shall find his feelings returned with equal fervour.” She pressed a distracting kiss to his temple, nearly causing him to stumble as he carried her. She whispered low into his ear, “You will be gratified to know, my love, that I intend to keep youexceedinglyhappy for all of our days.”
His eyes lit. “That sounds intriguing.”
She toyed with a wavy lock of his hair. “Oh, it will be!”
Darcy stumbled through the door of the house as his butler opened it, refusing still to release his wife. He nearly raced up the stairs with her, ignoring the fatigue in his arms until he had her all alone.
Gerald Perkins, the butler of Pemberley for the last thirty years, turned stoically away as Mrs Reynolds paused before him, her shocked gaze following the disappearing figures of the hatless master and his mistress. Her wide eyes rose to her towering associate.
“Estate business,” Perkins explained, with a faint twinkle in his eye.
Mrs Reynolds shook her head. “Hush, or word will start out that the master is a rash, reckless sort!”
“No,” Perkins asserted. “I think the master eminently wise and sensible.”
Mrs Reynolds smiled, a happy tear touching her eye. “As do I.”
