Page 68 of His Dark Heart
“Your arms. They are superb for holding me. Your chest. Every man's chest should be as solid as yours. Your hair, which almost rivals mine in beauty.”
He laughed outright, and she was attuned to every vibration. Slowly, the mirth began to build, and soon, they were both trapped in a fit of hysterical laughter. Tears sprang to their eyes, their chests heaved, and they pawed at each other when William made an attempt to tickle her. Finally, the fit subsided and, as they struggled to catch their breaths, William pulled her close again. Was it possible to be more contented?
“I love the way you smell. So clean, like lemons and summer sunshine. I love the way you speak the truth to me without flinching. You are the most reliable of all my advisers and, honestly, more underused than you should be. I apologize for that.
“I love the way your nose crinkles when you find a matter distasteful. You do not even know you are doing so.”
Her face would crack if she grinned any wider. “The way you say my name. Papa has never used my whole name, but you have never called me 'Eliza.' The situation is like I am two people, equally loved though in wholly separate ways. Eliza belongs to Longbourn and the House of Bennet; Elizabeth is solely yours.”
“High Lady Elizabeth Darcy, Princess of Pemberley, is solely mine.”
“Aye,” Elizabeth whispered in wonderment. “She is.”
“The fact that people light up when they see you.”
“How you look in or out of clothes.”
“I have never seen more beautiful breasts.”
“I love how your hair curls when damp.”
“When I see you with a babe, I cannot help but wonder what our children will look like,” he said.
“How you look forward to the day we have children.”
“The fact that you appreciate pretty lies.”
She smiled, kissed him, and settled back onto her pillow. “I love that you need me and are not afraid of the feeling.”
“I love you. Everything. From this fire-streaked hair to the tips of your toes and all that lies between, including your warm heart and shining soul.”
Tears seeped into her eyes. “You are beginning to sound like a poet yourself there, my William. Alas, I know the words you speak are nothing but a gorgeous truth. One day, there will be nothing but gorgeous truth for us. I sincerely hope we shall recognise it when the truth appears to us.”
“Trust, my sweet, that the moment you utter any gorgeous truth in my direction, I shall not merely see its beauty, but revel in the veracity and sing its song far into the reaches of the North. I live for that moment.”
And, for that particular moment, all was right. She could have said she loved him, and he would have found his truth, found it and known it was nothing less than pure—but the moment passed as fast as it came. A beat later and instant was gone, and she was forced once again to live in silence with her love for the man beside her. So, in its stead, she kissed him long and deep, poured her heart into the physical connection, and was ready to hope against hope that he might decipher her love from that single kiss.
Alas, he did not. He tucked her body to his as was his wont and was soon asleep. Elizabeth, having listed a few of the thousand reasons she had for loving William, began to tick the rest of them off inside her head, looking forward to sleep that was not going to come. Sadness filled her heart as she ticked off the reasons—the way he held her hand before they took their seats in the Great Hall; the unapologetic way he heaped eggs onto his breakfast plate in the morning; how he taught her how to sit in Thora’s saddle so she could canter without a backache—all those things were reasons she loved him. She, after all the convincing she had done to kill his regret, was beginning to be filled with her own. Would he ever believe her once she told him how much and how deeply she loved him?
* * *
“Lady Caroline, how lovely of you to join us this morning!” Jane exclaimed, holding her hands out to Lord Bingley’s sister.
Elizabeth sat back with her sewing. Jane's false warmth emanated almost as if true. Had Jane actually delighted in Lady Caroline’s presence, her welcome would have shone in her eyes, but Jane's hazel eyes were somehow even chillier than the witch's icy green gaze.
“Lady Jane, 'tis an honour indeed. It has been several years since we last spent time together, has it not?”
“It has. I had been readying myself to marry my dear Sir Finnegan when last we met. Have you not yet found that special man? You know, the one of which your dearest brother approves?” Jane laughed heartily, but by Caroline’s wooden attitude, she, as had Elizabeth, had clearly noticed the cold flick of the lady's gaze.
“Nay, ma'am, I am afraid to admit I have not. Charles depends upon me wholly for my advice and counsel. I have no need for a husband or a lover.”
Elizabeth almost choked. Jane shot her a warning glance. They had had just enough time that morning to decide how to handle Lady Caroline, and both had come to the conclusion it was not worth causing trouble, though Elizabeth was dying to see how Lady Caroline would handle the unbroken horse in the stables.
“Well, then, you have painted the picture of a perfect life,” Elizabeth replied as she sipped her tea delicately. She had worn her husband's favourite colour—midnight blue—today and had awaked to a most pleasant sensation of kisses being sprinkled all over her bare flesh. Naught could spoil her mood.
“I do live a perfect life, my lady. A most perfect life.”
Elizabeth gave a perfunctory smile and placed her teacup upon her saucer. What a foolish woman to believe such a shallow life was perfection!
