Sharon Lathan - The Trouble with Mr. Darcy

He chuckled, the hoarse sound reverberating under her face. “Trust me, it is much colder here in December. I will stir up the fire.” He started to draw away, but Lizzy clutched onto his thigh and held fast.

“No need. I am quite warm now. I have my own personal fire and he rapidly incites my internal flames.” And just in case he missed the innuendo she kissed his chest and caressed pointedly up his thigh and around to his rear.

Darcy, of course, was not an imbecile even if half asleep. The lazy caressing continued for several minutes while Lizzy planted kisses across his chest and Darcy smiled into her lavender scented hair. He snaked a hand under the thick nightgown she wore during the winter, pushing the cloth upward as his hand skimmed over her leg. He sighed contentedly, allowing the excitement to build in languid increments, savoring the tactile delight of her skin under his palm without a conscious agenda.

“He is quite active at this moment.”

Her whispered words broke into the silence, momentarily halting the fingers trailing over her hipbone. Eagerly they altered their random path, purposefully brushing along her inner thigh until reaching the swell above. As she said, the baby was moving with gentle nudges against his palm.

“Hmm… Wonderful. You continually say ‘he’ as if sure of the sex. Another vivid dream as with Alexander?”

“No. Not this time. More of a feeling.”

“Ah, a feeling. So scientific.” He accented his tease with a tiny pinch.

“As scientific as my dream, but that proved true.”

“Very well then. I suppose that means we do not have to assign a female name, and since Alexander was instantly agreed upon, we have a task on our hands. Any choices? Do you wish to name him after your father?”

“Thomas? Perhaps, although we could reserve it as a secondary name after your father’s. James should be chosen before Thomas.”

“I do want to pay homage to my father if possible, yes. However, I do want to add Charles as a secondary name as well, if you do not mind? He is a dear friend and instrumental in my meeting you.” He gently drew her away from his chest, attempting to see her eyes in the dark, but to no avail so he kissed her instead, his fingertips flittering over her most sensitive zones while maintaining contact with their unborn child.

“How sweet,” she said once her mouth was released. “Charles is mutually agreed upon. So, we have numerous secondary name choices but nothing for the Christian name. Do you have a favorite?”

“I have always liked Nathaniel. And Adam. Not common, I know, but nice names.”

“Possible. What do you think of Gabriel? Lisle’s son is Gabriel and it struck me as pleasant.”

Suddenly Darcy chuckled. “Gabriel, Thomas, Nathaniel, Adam. I think we are cornering Biblical names!”

“Indeed,” she joined his laughter. “Of course, if we have this many babies you alluded to last night, we may work our way through the entire Bible. Just do not ask for Methuselah. I draw the line there.”

“Does that mean Shadrach and Meshach are eliminated? And no on Potiphar or Boaz?”

She shook with laughter and a fair dose of arousal now that his fingers had crept to the apex between her legs and were confounding her senses with their antics. “Absolutely not! I have no urge to torture our son with a hideous name. What say we remain in the realm of non-ridiculing names like Matthew or Daniel or Michael…”

“Michael,” Darcy interrupted, although Lizzy’s voice had paused on the name. Even his fingers had ceased moving, a fact Lizzy did not initially register as she too was dwelling on the name. “That has a nice ring. Michael. Michael Darcy. Michael Charles Darcy. What do you think?” He tried vainly to see her eyes, but the room was still too dark. He felt her gaze upon his face, the gap of inches separating allowing him to feel her exhaled breaths. Somehow he knew she was smiling.

“I love it. Yes, very much. It does not have to be definitively settled as yet, but… It fits for some inexplicable reason. Michael Darcy.”

“Michael Darcy. Yes. At least the choice for the present and much better than Methuselah. Shall we seal it with a kiss, Mrs. Darcy?”

“More than a kiss please,” spoken huskily and with a demanding press to the immobile hand resting on her pubis.

“As you wish, my love.” His fingers resumed their teasing, Lizzy moaning and arching into the magic that was his touch.

Baby names were forgotten in the wake of escalating incitement. Lizzy’s amorousness that was dampened while discussing the baby flared into a raging inferno of desire. This was becoming a pattern and Darcy teased that her fervency was due to pregnancy wrecking havoc on her insides. It was true that she typically possessed more restraint in comparison to his voracious sexual appetite, but her craving for him at odd times was not unheard of, pregnant or not. Whatever the truth, his skillful manipulations rapidly achieved the desired results. Then his lips left her mouth to travel down her neck to the breast freed from the gown’s bodice with a flick of his little finger and he drew the sensitized, puckered nipple in for a sharp suck instantly turning her pants to gasping shouts as spasms buffeted through every muscle.

Darcy groaned, growled really, but held on and rode the cresting wave of her release, encouraging the pleasure to arc ever higher with practiced strokes. He waited, knowing the precise moment when the sensations began to wane. It was then that he lifted his body, rolled smoothly between her legs, and plunged in as deeply as possible. Raspy moans vibrated against her lips as he parted them with a greedy tongue bent on plundering deeply. Yet instead of initiating a furious rhythm of lovemaking he held still. Buried completely, he absorbed the final tremors, kissing ravenously as the feel of her wildly increased his desire to the point where not moving was necessary or their interlude would be over in a second.

And that would never do. What had begun as an unplanned assignation in the darkest, coldest hours of the night need not be swift. Darcy was wide awake now, his body thrumming with urgency and passion. Every sense was alive, except for sight since the darkness prevented even a glimmer of the beloved person pressed so deliciously under his solid frame. But he knew her face intimately, could picture each feature vividly, and the deprivation of light only enhanced every other sensation. This fact was proven true when she squeezed with her lissome legs, lifting her hips in a clear indication that she wanted more. The rivers of flame rushed from his toes to the crown of his head, animalistic lust and rapturous love demanding he respond.

And he did, hard and fast. Heaving breaths accenting the furious strokes and his hands held her hips in place for each fierce push.

“Yeeeesssss…” Her sibilant utterance spurred Darcy on, the pace of his thrusts varying as they undulated together in no rush to end the pleasure.

After nearly three years of wedded bliss Darcy could not claim to recall each time they made love in specific detail. Always their unions were amazing and satisfying, but there were those times that created lasting memories. Their wedding night, of course, and not merely because it was their first time together as well as the first time either had shared such intimacy with another person, but also because it was perfect in every way. His soul had truly come alive that night; his heart irrevocably changed when his wife entered inside and took up residence.

There was the time they made love in her bath on Christmas Eve, discovering the unique joy and delight in mixing water, soap, and desire. After her brush with death as a result of Lord Orman’s wicked attack, their passion was augmented by their thankfulness to be alive. On her birthday when she undressed for him in an erotic dance. In the seawater of Caister-on-Sea. When she staged a romantic tableau in their bedchamber for their rejoining after Alexander’s birth. Her surprise intrusion into his dressing room mere weeks after their marriage. That one night when passion consumed and they made love in the billiard room, on the billiard table. Under the willows in Hertfordshire.

He knew even before this session of lovemaking began that it would join the mental montage. Just as when they loved after he felt Alexander for the first time, profound emotions raced through his being, adding to the transcendent physical bliss of satisfying sex. It was a celebration of new life and the love that created this life.

Gone was the caution in expressing their passion too vocally due to thin walls of the chateau. Did their neighbors sleep through their shouts? They would never know. Nor would they care.

The time to say good-bye, or auf Wiedersehen as it were, to the Oeggl multitude came for four of the English travelers during the second week in June. Lizzy continued to feel incredible, but with her pregnancy advancing they were forced to depart. It was difficult to leave for a host of reasons. Mary’s illness, although never spoken of openly, left no doubt that they would never see her again. The impact on George was striking, even as he presented his typical comical front. He embraced her tightly, murmuring into her ear, and the surreptitious swipe at wetness collecting on his cheek was noted by many.

Darcy’s parting from his sister was difficult, but not as intensely painful as he had imagined.

“I will miss you every moment of every day, Brother,” she whispered while holding him tightly.

Darcy smiled, pulling away an inch to kiss her forehead. “I shall miss you as well, Georgie. I shall think of you constantly and expect letters; however, I do not anticipate that you will be thinking of me every day, let alone every moment. In fact, I would be greatly disappointed if you did! I want you to experience life and art as you have long desired. This is your time to shine and enjoy.”

“Thank you, William.”

“Just promise to be safe and return with stories to tell.”

“I promise.”

His brave face remained calm as they said their official farewells. Lizzy was not fooled by the lightness, nor was Georgiana. Lord Matlock was surprised to only receive a handful of warnings regarding Georgiana’s safety and was sympathetic to Darcy’s emotions, so he did not tease or counter argue. Darcy’s melancholia coupled with George’s sadness over Mary cast a pall on the initial days of their return journey, but gorgeous scenery and intriguing places overcame.

They set a faster pace as they traveled north from Geneva to Luxembourg and then west to Calais. Lizzy suffered not a twinge of discomfort as her abdomen continued to grow, yet as the baby exerted more influence, Darcy’s gut coiled tighter. The urge to be on English soil and in their home became stronger with each passing mile. Nevertheless, they did pause for frequent periods of rest or sightseeing, finally boarding the ship as the first days of July dawned.

The distance from Dover to Rosings in Kent was only some thirty miles, a fact Darcy and George were blissfully happy about, as the seas were rough for the short crossing. Lizzy suggested tarrying in Dover until they recuperated, but the vehement insistence to get as far away from the ocean as possible was heeded. The carriages were unloaded as speedily as possible, the suffering men collapsing into the cushions and not notably improving even when the smell of tar, sea, and fish was finally left behind. The swaying carriage did not help, Lizzy fully expecting one or both of them to succumb to churning stomachs. Fortunately the buckets she brought along just in case were never used, but whether that was due to the Dr. Darcy–brewed tonic they sipped nonstop or sheer willpower she never knew. Alexander was not as fortunate; the Darcy gene for seasickness activated this time. He did recuperate once on dry ground and did not vomit after leaving the docks, a boon Lizzy was eternally grateful for since his retching would certainly have affected the men in a most negative fashion.

Anne Penaflor, née de Bourgh, greeted their carriage alone. She stood calmly on the steps before Rosings’s imposing entrance, her fragile figure dressed in a fashionable gown of pale yellow and green that gathered in an attempt to hide the swell of her abdomen. The clever design was unsuccessful mainly due to a breeze shifting the fabric over her body but also because Anne held one hand atop the precious bulge. Lizzy smiled at the gesture, understanding precisely why she wore the voluminous garment—her mother’s requirement, without a doubt—but also why Anne would rebel in this small way.