Page 122 of Pride, Prejudice, & Pretense

Despite the window, the outward landscape, and the inward reflections, her consciousness nonetheless lingered primarily at the meeting point of her legs, on the heat that rippled heavy, syrupy, outward from that juncture and through all the rest of her. It felt as if her body were singing a love song, a songof heated female satisfaction as old as Eve. A garden song in Rochester winter.

"It was a wonderful day, Lizzy," Fitzwilliam said in a breathy but satisfied tone, so male, "Wonderful!And it's only gotten better."

She turned to him with a seductive smile, real through and through. "Don't be smug. I'm expecting better yet after we catch our breath…when we can take our time."

Grinning, he grabbed a pillow and folded it before resting it behind his head so he could look at her. He stared with a frank, returning hunger for a moment, and then he glanced to the side of the room where her wedding dress hung at the front of a carved, massive armoire. He seemed utterly unselfconscious about his complete nakedness, splendidly at ease with his wife, all covers off.

She could see his scars; she was now as intimate with his scars as he was with hers. Her fingers and lips had traced them.

"Seeing you at the other end of the aisle at The Good Shepherd? That is as close as I expect to come to the Beatific Vision, at least on this side of the blue."

Lizzy stalked toward the end of the bed, enjoying her view of Fitzwilliam as he considered her wedding dress.

"I told you I would love you in it and out of it," he said, turning his face toward her.

She laughed softly. "You were asgoodas your word."

"Mrs. Darcy, was that a honeymoon pun?"

"Mr. Darcy, were you punning on 'love'?" She smirked, eyebrows jaunty. "The second, more recent love, theout-of-itlove, seemed a bit more vigorous than the first, the wedding love, thein-itlove, anyway. The second seemed more flesh"?her eyes grew, then her smirk?"and less spirit."

"Ahem. I will have you know there was as much spirit as flesh here a moment ago, I promise you. And earlier, atThe Good Shepherd, as much flesh as spirit. Both were utterly willing, both times. I love you and I desire you in equal, infinite measure."

He said things that made her heart swell. He was a part of the innermost life of her life.

She waited for him to look at her again. "Yes, Fitzwilliam, it was a wonderful day—a gala day. And it keeps getting better."

***

Jane was Lizzy's maid of honor; Charlie was Fitzwilliam’s best man. One bridesmaid was Karen McDougal. Her son, Ricky, was the ring-bearer, his chubby red cheeks adorable above his bowtie. The other bridesmaid was Georgiana, who had insisted on flying to the States for the event.

She and Lizzy had bonded quickly. They liked each other from the first moment, and a long evening over stiff drinks talking about George Wickham had bonded them as sisters. Fitzwilliam’s sister was not vindictive—she was sweet and gentle, retiring, despite her striking beauty—but it was clear that Wickham's end brought her a sense of closure, that knowing he was out there savoring her ruin had made reconstructing herself harder for her.

The wedding took place on New Year's Day, just over a month after Fitzwilliam’s return. Mrs. Bennet, who never quite get herself stably to believe that her daughter had been a CIA agent and her son-in-law to-be an MI-6 agent, could not understand the hurry. However, she certainly was happy enough about the business that the wedding brought the bridal shop and willing to give folks a bit of a discount. Aunt Christine went behind Mrs. Bennet and drastically deepened the discount or gave items away for free.

Lizzy’s mother did eventually remember what had happened at the back door of the shop on Black Friday, but she never had any recollection of what had happened in the van. No one ever supplied her with the full details, and she never asked. She knew the outcome, and that seemed to satisfy her.

Lizzy and her aunt grew much closer even than before. Fitzwilliam admired and respected the Gardiners, and they admired and respected him. No longer having secrets from her aunt allowed for the greater closeness she and Lizzy had both craved over the years.

Mrs. Bennet found Fitzwilliam too unbendable for her liking. Too cool. "Give me true warmth of heart, Lizzy, even with a little of that extravagance of feeling which misleads judgment, and conducts into romance…" It did no good to try telling her that Fitzwilliam was, in private, a deeply passionate man, warm and extravagant and romantic; her mother only waved her hand and refused to believe.

***

Lizzy sat down at the foot of the bed, and Fitzwilliam sat up. After glancing at his lap, she met his eyes. "If you don't want an immediate sequel, you may want to cover yourself."

He grumbled and grabbed a blanket, spreading it across his lap. "See, this is some kind of inequality! You can wear my shirt and claim to be covered, but to me, somehow you look more naked in my shirt than you look with nothing on…at least it affects me that way."

Lizzy rolled her shoulders, and Fitzwilliam’s tuxedo shirt dropped to the floor. "Is that better?"

He groaned. "No, yes…oh God, Lizzy! I want you!" The rising tent of the blanket in his lap testified to his sincerity, although she required no testimony.

"You wantme?Elizabeth Bennet?" she teased. "You know that the woman you married, Mr. Darcy, is a fascinating but faulty creature."

"I'm not sure I can claim to be fascinating…but I can claim to be faulty." He smirked. "When she saw me in my tux this morning, your mother told me that I need to beless stiff."

She glanced at his lap. "I'm not sure that's ever true, Fitzwilliam, but it was false this morning, and it's certainly false right now." Feeling herself becoming liquid, Lizzy reached for the blanket and more.

***

---