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

“For a long time now. And you promise to marry me.”

“Of course, I will,” I rushed out. “Why would I not!”

He kissed my lips once more and I pressed my hands against his chest.

There was strength to his form and his person that I could never fully appreciate until this moment. Now, being against him, I wondered how I had never noticed the beauty of his form before.

Next, he slowly, lowered his lips down my neck and gently caressed the curves of my throat with his kiss. My body shuddered under the feel of it. It was such a small and gentle thing, and yet how could it have such a grand effect upon me?

I was lost, and my mind and self-control felt as if they had fallen from out of me, and sunk into the floor, where it would elude me from thenceforth.

Buckling under the overwhelming sensation of his attentions, I lost the strength in my legs and I sunk backwards onto his desk.

His desperate feelings mistook my actions for an indication of a desire to go further. Swiftly, he wrapped my legs around his body, and he pressed his body against mine and kissed my lips once more.

I should have felt that we were incorrect to do this all… yet I did not. Oh, how the power of emotion is the enemy of logic and rationality. Not one second could I gather my sense and refuse to allow such liberties, but I could not find the voice or the will to deny him this. Perhaps it was because, in the depths of my soul… I had wanted this all along. And I had simply not known that I had until now. Until him.

Acting on instinct and impulse, I ran my hands through his hair as he continued to kiss me. After our caresses intensified, he lowered his lips down my neck, and then he reached the top of my gown. I looked down at him, wishing that I had the will to speak or stop him, but all that I could do was watch in wonder and joy as he yanked my gown down, pushing it off my shoulders and rolling it down to my hips. He even pulled away at my chemise and stays and forced them downwards, until my breasts lay revealed and bare before him.

“Elizabeth!” He gasped before he closed his mouth around one. I let out a cry of joy as I felt his lips envelop my breast, his appetite for me roaring within him. He ran his fingers over the nipple of my other breast, gently pinching it between his fingers. I let my head roll on the desk, my eyes closed, and I gave into the waves of rapture that seemed to encase us both.

My modesty had left me, never to be returned.

And all want of propriety and restraint felt as if they were too far behind him and me. I should have hated myself, but I only desired him to continue. I wanted his lips to remain there, for his hands to continue caressing my thighs.

Yet, I was suddenly yanked from our happy situation when he suddenly raised his body off mine.

“The door!” With a burst of swift action, he opened a drawer to his desk, grabbed a key, dashed to the door and he locked it.

His sudden removal of his body from off my person was enough to push me out of my state of revelry. I had only one minute to remember myself, but I did in fact regain my sense. Yet, the next minute would prove my sense and reason to be a temporary and fleeting thing…

“Darcy,” I said, my voice trembling, trying to pull my gown up over my shoulders.

“Fitzwilliam,” he urged, serious and his voice deep with an authority that would brook no refusal. “You are my wife now, so you will call me Fitzwilliam. I will not allow you to call me anything else from this moment onward.”

My breath escaped me. As he stared at me, his face was so serious, his look so urgent, that I felt as if he was casting a spell upon me.

“But I am not your wife, yet, and I forgot myself.”

“Elizabeth,” he began, his face becoming suddenly pitiable. “Are you about to turn away from me?”

“I forgot myself.”

“No, you did not. You remembered that you love me and that I am now the one that you should love.”

“But we are not man and wife in the eyes of God yet.”

“Then you do not love me as much as you love our lord? Is that what you are about to tell me?”

He looked so hurt by my suddenly trying to regain modesty between us. And the devil! It was working on me. I could not believe it! It was working!

“I do not want to hurt you, Mr. Darcy.”

“Call me by my name.”

“Fitzwilliam.”

“There, you called me by my name. Therefore, you are my wife!”

“Then as your wife, I have to abide by the rules of our lives.”

“You proposed to me; you have breached propriety already and because of it, you reached me. What does falling back into propriety do for us now? Propriety has only been the means through which we often were separated. Do not separate us now, Elizabeth. I yearn for you, and I am hurt now.”

“You devil!” I gasped. “You know that I have a hard time resisting you, don’t you?”

“Precisely. I know that you long for me now as much as I long for you. And I know your courage. It is that courage for which now you shall make me your husband.”

Pressing his advantage, he closed the space around us once more. Kissing me passionately, I felt his presence sink deep into my being and his persuasion was crippling. He knew his power over me! Damn the man.

I did long for him. I did want him. And I knew that I had nothing to fear. He was not the sort of man who