Page 180 of Companions of Their Youth
Jane had blushed a deep rose. Elizabeth had merely nodded, grateful beyond words.
Now, she stood in the center of the guest room at Netherfield that had been set aside for her—and for Darcy.
The fire flickered low, casting a golden glow across the carpet and the edge of the bed. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached to adjust the lace trim of her nightgown—an exquisite confection of soft lawn and embroidery, the neckline delicately trimmed with ivory silk. It had been a gift from Aunt Gardiner, discreetly given in private and accompanied by a warm kiss and misty eyes.
She had worn it now with careful deliberation. Her hair had been brushed out, falling over her shoulders in soft waves. Her feet were bare on the rug.
Butterflies danced in her stomach.
Would it hurt? Would she know what to do? Would he be gentle, or would she embarrass herself with her inexperience?
A knock.
Then the door opened.
Darcy stood there, tall and composed, dressed in his robe and nightshirt, hair slightly tousled. He closed the door behind him, and their eyes met.
She swallowed.
His gaze softened instantly. “Elizabeth…”
She could not speak. Her voice caught.
He crossed to her slowly and reached for her hands. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
Her cheeks flamed. “You always say such things—”
“I always mean them.”
She smiled shakily.
He bent to kiss her hand, then guided her gently to the settee near the fire. From the side table, he poured a modest glass of wine, the decanter glinting in the firelight.
“Only one,” he said. “To steady your nerves. I want you to remember every moment of this night.”
She accepted it gratefully, taking a small sip.
He took the glass from her and set it aside.
Then he lifted her hand again, held it to his heart, and whispered, “May I kiss you?”
She nodded.
And when his lips met hers, all the fears quieted. The questions drifted away. The warmth of his touch, the strength of his arms, the gentleness in his movements wrapped her in safety.
She felt cherished. Desired. Loved.
The fire crackled low.
And as he led her to the bed and whispered her name once more, she surrendered to the moment fully, the world narrowing to sensation and wonder, and the rest faded gently into darkness.
∞∞∞
Morning came softly.
A low winter light filtered through the curtains, pale and golden, casting the room in quiet peace. Darcy stirred slowly, the warmth of the bed holding him still, reluctant to rise.
She was nestled against him—her cheek against his shoulder, her hand splayed across his chest, her legs tangled with his beneath the covers. Her hair was a silken weight against his collarbone, smelling faintly of rosewater.
