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“What I really ought to be doing is thanking you. I have never felt more like a woman than I feel at this moment—basking in the afterglow of our shared intimacy, and I do not know that I shall ever feel this way again. You have given me something wonderful to remember – nay to cherish – for the rest of my days.”

“If it is any consolation, I know how it feels to find oneself in a loveless marriage.”

This time he could not prevent her from escaping his embrace. Her heartbeat raced. “You are married, sir?”

His voice somber, he said, “Seeking to fulfill the favorite wish of my late mother and her sister – my aunt – I married my cousin. Ironically, my marriage was never consummated either.”

Her own circumstances aside, Elizabeth’s ensuing discomfort in learning that he belonged to another was palpable. She wanted nothing more than to flee. Seizing the bedcovers as though hiding her modesty, she sat up. She meant to escape his side. Wanting to stop her, Darcy took her by the hand.

“Sir, you are married,” she protested. “You should have told me before – before …”

“No. I am not,” he replied. “That is to say, I was married, but I am not married now.”

Although his confession encouraged a deep sigh of relief on Elizabeth’s part, she needed answers. “I am a curious creature by nature, and thus I beg you to elaborate, for I am at a loss to comprehend your assertion.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. The turn in his countenance gave Elizabeth cause for concern.

He was married, but he is not married now. Did his wife—did she die? Do I dare inquire into what is no doubt a private, perhaps painful, matter? By what right?

Elizabeth determined not to be offended by his reluctance, but if it were in her power to help ease any burden he might be suffering, she surely meant to try. She placed her fingers on his dimpled chin. Her eyes met his. “You seem saddened. It might help to talk about it.”

Taking her hand, he brushed a light kiss on her knuckles. He shook his head. “I would rather not. Not now.”

“But you have been so compassionate and so attentive having listened to me. Allow me to return the favor.”

“I will in due time—just not now. We have all the time in the world to discuss such matters after we have been properly introduced. Who is to say when I will have a chance to hold you in my arms like this again?” He coaxed her back into his embrace. “Let us simply enjoy this forbidden fruit for as long as we can.”

At length, the lovers started exploring their mutual passion for each other once again. Approaching heights not theretofore attained, he whispered, “Tell me your name.”

His warm breath against her skin thrilled her. Elizabeth shuddered. She swallowed. “Mrs. Tilman,” she moaned.

“Tell me your name,” he urged, ardently pressing his point.

“Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth,” he moaned in turn. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

The sound of her given name uttered passionately from his lips sent waves of pleasure, the likes of which she never imagined possible, throughout every fiber of her body. Her tears of joy could not help but fall.

Chapter 6

Elizabeth marveled at the incredible man lying beside her, sound asleep. Oddly enough, a strange calm overcame her rendering her secure in the knowledge that although she had put an inordinate amount of trust in this man who was a stranger to her, it had not been reckless on her part. She truly believed he was not the sort of man who would give her any cause for regret. There was something pleasing about his mouth when he spoke. And there was something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavorable idea of his heart, thus assuring her that he was worthy of the trust she had placed in him.

All the best parts of his magnificent body gleamed as a consequence of their amorous exertions. Touching him here, there, and everywhere in between had now become Elizabeth’s favorite wish.

Demur if she liked but a part of her, the part that had longed to know a man’s touch, might well cause her to spend the rest of her life regretting not having seized the moment.

I may never have such a chance as this again, she thought, smoothing her fingers along his entire length, lingering in some points longer and with more eagerness than others.

The touch akin to silky-smooth velvet beneath her fingers was incredibly enticing. An interested twitch taught her that he was as much in her power as she was in his. Perhaps there would be other such opportunities as this during the duration of his stay. Perhaps her overnight stays at Netherfield might become a habit. A most fascinating habit at that. Elizabeth smiled a little at this thought.

One can surely dream.

If not for the fact that Elizabeth was experiencing feelings that she never even knew she could feel—indeed, never even thought she would feel, she surely would suffer misgivings about the manner in which she had spent the past hours in the arms of this incredibly wonderful and understanding man.

She wanted to pinch herself just to make sure she was not dreaming, and only the thought that she possibly was dreaming prevented her from doing so, for if what she was experiencing was but a dream, she surely did not want to wake up anytime soon. Not when she had so little to look forward to in her day-to-day life.

Just the thought of Mr. Collins’ duplicity aroused in her an odd mixture of feelings. Yes, she was happy that she would never have to submit to him as his wife, but Elizabeth was unhappy—nay disappointed and heartbroken that she would never know what it would be like to be a mother. Add to all that, she felt betrayed—not so much by his particular circumstance but by his duplicitous attempt to hide it. It was all too much to contemplate.