Chances Come, Ney Mitch [snow like ashes series TXT] 📗

“I love you. Now tell me that you love me once more.”

“I do love you. More than almost anything I ever loved in life is how much I love you now.”

With an alacrity that I never knew he possessed, Darcy closed the space in between us, grabbed me and kissed me passionately.

Joy!

What fire was within my blood and ears!

What light was light until that moment? Had I seen life and experienced it ever to its fullest before?

I cannot say that I had. My heart was bursting apart, my mind was gone, and my spirit felt itself rise in every direction but not remain on the ground.

To be kissing the man that I loved so terribly. Words, words, words, are not meant to fully describe that moment. For no words ever could.

I was myself.

Now, I was even more complete than I had ever been.

His touch was strong. His kiss was real. And I was myself.

His hands were protective around me. His feeling was sincere. And I was still myself.

His mind was connected to mine. His body was pressed against my flesh and now connected with my soul. And I was still myself.

But now, I was also his. And he was also mine.

My identity was once so very singular. And yet, in that moment, as we kissed, it became plural. Now, we were two, becoming one.

From singular to plural.

And plural, back to singular.

This was love!

Our kiss was hard, strong, and deep. When his lips finally released mine, I let out a small cry.

“Have I hurt you?” His concern was quick and real.

“No,” I gasped, feeling my eyes swell with this emotion. “How long did you love me, and I was left to believe I had no chance in winning you?”

“Since we danced at Netherfield,” he responded. “I knew that you were the woman that I could not be without.”

Shocked and surprised, I asked, “Since then?”

“Yes. Perhaps even before it. All this time, I knew that I loved you.”

“You knew, even before I did.” I sighed, my eyes swelled with the emotion and I knew they were tears of joy. “You knew that I would never be happier in any other way than in being next to you? How wise. How terribly wise.”

“Why are you about to weep?”

“Because I am happy. Because I love you.”

“Then marry me,” he urged. “What courtship do we need, my beautiful friend? All we have done since the day we met was court each other? We tormented each other, provoked each other, and then at last, chose each other. That is love! Love is not always pretty. Love is real and it hurts! Please, Elizabeth, for me. And for yourself. Do not make me suffer a courtship. Please let me be your husband already and be my wife!”

“You would marry me now?”

“I would be married to you always.”

Once more, he closed the gap between us and kissed me.

As we kissed, I felt the whole world fade around us, inch by inch and yard by yard. Life, as I had known it, had seemed to shed away into a series of moments gone past and yet, also in preparation. Had all the trial and tribulations of life been preparing me for this moment, then it had done its duty quite well.

Life, in all its succession of busy nothings that occurred, and all the internal confusion and conflicts that filled the moments in between all those nothings, seemed to all culminate in that moment. My fights, my struggles, be they little in the eyes of the greatness of the world, seemed to prepare me for this; for the most dangerous and the most frightening thing I could be prepared for. It all had prepared me to be brave enough for love.

Love, by its very definition, could only have caused strain and crisis. In truth, perhaps once I was even an enemy of romantic love at some time or another. For love seemed to only bring pain, and the more that I had seen of the world, the more that I had been dissatisfied with it. Love was a part of the very mixture that I found deadly poisonous to the road to happiness. It had brought my parents little joy. It had brought Jane potential heartache, and so I had never wished for it to consume me. Yet, here I was, laying myself open to the veracity of affection and the vulnerabilities that come with the emotion that I never actively sought after… until him. Until Mr. Darcy.

His hands ran along my cheek as we kissed, and I felt lost into a blissful oblivion. Raised on my tiptoes, I pressed my lips against his even more deeply, surprisingly unafraid of our actions. In truth, everything just felt so natural in that instant. I could not think!

I could only move in the same manner as he, desiring to be occupied. I did not tell my hands to press themselves against his chest, yet they did so. I did not order my body to push itself against him, yet it pressed so deeply against his, that I felt as if we would melt into one another.

Slowly, I felt his hand rise down to my shoulders and pressed my arms desperately, trying to grab ahold of me tightly. Suddenly, he removed his lips from mine and looked into my eyes.

“Did I do that well?” I asked. “You must understand. This was my first time.”

“It was perfect, but if you wouldn’t mind…” he raised his hand to my hair and began to undo the pins and ribbons. Slowly, my curls fell down along my shoulders and he ran his hands through them.

“Sometimes,” I confessed, “I wonder why we must always have our hair up.”

“So do I. But, when it comes down, it is such a special occasion that it makes it worth the wait. He pressed his face against mine as he continued to run my hands through his hair. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

“And I love you.”

“How long