Page 89 of To Love And To Cherish
“Had you known I was a tease,” he said with a wink, “you might never have married me.”
She studied him. “No, but I might have made you wait another week or longer.”
He laughed, truly laughed, and she was struck by how young he looked. He pulled her up to stand in front of him, and then he kissed her gently. She kissed him back.
“I’ll stop teasing you,” he said. “I see it’s making you uncomfortable.”
He gathered her into his arms, and she wrapped hers around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair. His mouth claimed hers as his hands drew her hips to his, until she was flush against him, clinging to him.
Then suddenly he released her, stepping back.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice roughened with feeling, “you cannot know what you do to me.”
He turned toward the door. “I must see to the servants and the horses. I’ll return in an hour.”
The maid arrived soon after with hot water, and Elizabeth undressed with trembling fingers, heart full of anticipation and wonder at what this night would bring.
Chapter 45: The Next Morning
Elizabeth awoke to a golden slant of light stretching across the chamber floor, warming the counterpane and glowing against the faded wallpaper. She blinked, momentarily confused. The fire had been stoked; the room was comfortably warm. She lay nestled beneath a thick coverlet, alone in the bed.
The previous evening returned to her in a sudden flush of memory: her husband’s hands, his whispered endearments, the way he had kissed her with such uncharacteristic fervor. It astonished her still. The Fitzwilliam Darcy she had come to know was proud, quiet, measured in every word and motion. But last night, and again early this morning, he had been anything but.
She found her wrapper on the floor, a casualty of that new, ungovernable intimacy, and tied it quickly about her waist just as a knock sounded at the door. A second later, the key turned.
Darcy stepped in, followed by a maid balancing a tray heaped with food. His hair was wind-tossed, and his cheeks ruddy with cold. He grinned.
"So, you’ve decided to wake at last. It is ten o’clock, Mrs. Darcy."
She stared at him. This was not the Darcy she had known in Hertfordshire, nor even the man she had come to admire here in Scotland. This man was grinning, smiling, even. One might almost call him cheerful.
The maid set the tray on a small table by the window, fed the fire, and curtsied herself out.
Darcy stepped toward her, more cautious now, and took her hand gently. "How are you this morning, Mrs. Darcy? Are you well?"
She understood at once what he meant. Her smile bloomed with warmth. "I am very well, Mr. Darcy. More than well. I am gloriously happy."
His expression softened into something she had not seen before: unguarded joy. He pulled her into an embrace.
"I am gloriously happy, too. I’ve written to your father and to Georgiana to tell them we were married yesterday. Your father will expect us at Longbourn. He has the marriage settlements already and awaits my signature."
She pulled back in surprise. "How does Papa have the settlements?"
Darcy looked faintly sheepish. "I had them drawn up at the same time as the sales contract for Ellan House. I wrote to your father of my intentions and enclosed the settlements, so he might be assured I acted in good faith. I asked that he make no announcement until he heard from me regarding your answer."
Elizabeth blinked. "I see. So you contrived, and you succeeded."
He laughed. "And now we are both gloriously happy. All’s well that ends well, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."
He kissed her, then stepped back and motioned to the tray. "Come, let us eat. The weather is cold, but fine. We have about eleven hours of daylight remaining and sixteen miles to cover before reaching Tom Aitinn. I sent a boy yesterday to bespeak lodgings. The innkeeper says it is a small village on the River Findhorn. A quiet place, but he directed me to a couple who take in travelers. There are clean beds, good food, and room forhorses and our servants. We can reach it in three hours without hurry, or one and a half if we ride swiftly."
They sat to eat, but Elizabeth found herself under constant observation. Darcy, seated directly across from her, seemed to find her infinitely fascinating.
She took a bite of bacon and glanced up. "Mr. Darcy, I cannot eat while you stare at me so intensely."
He grinned. "Mrs. Darcy, I cannot help myself. The most beautiful woman in the world is sitting across from me in a state of dishabille."
She flushed. "Well, sir, I would be bathed and dressed by now on an ordinary morning, but as my husband kept me awake more than half the night, and then woke me again before sunrise, I can hardly be expected to be punctual."
