Page 79 of Attempted Compromises
His eyes softened at the hesitation in her voice. “I would never hurt you, Elizabeth,” he said, taking a cautious step closer. “You must know that.”
“I do,” she said quickly. “It’s just that… I don’t know…. That is, Mama tried to explain…”
She shrugged feebly, abandoning the effort to put words to her anxiety. “She was more confusing than helpful. I’m afraid I—” She hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “I don’t know what I should do,” she finished miserably, looking down.
Darcy’s expression was tender as he reached out to take her hands in his. “Elizabeth, there is no shame in innocence. I will guide you, and if you have any questions, you may ask them. There is nothing we cannot speak of.”
She nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “Thank you,” she whispered. “That is a comfort.”
He led her to the settee near the fire, gently drawing her down to sit next to him, their hands still joined. She closed her eyes and leaned in, pursing her lips expectantly.
“I think we should talk first,” he said gently.
Her eyes flew open and she drew back, embarrassed. “Talk?”
“About us. About this marriage.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, studying him. “What do you mean?”
“You are not alone in your uncertainty,” he said quietly. “I confess, I am just as nervous as you.”
Elizabeth blinked, startled. “You? But… surely you’ve…you were married!” She trailed off, her cheeks burning as the implications of her words struck her.
Darcy’s lips twitched into a faint, almost wistful smile. “I am not entirely inexperienced,” he said awkwardly. “But, my marriage to Anne was…unconventional.”
Elizabeth tilted her head, curiosity mingling with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
His gaze dropped to their joined hands and to her surprise she detected a faint flush on his cheeks. Was it just the firelight? He stood up and leaned against the mantle, looking into the fire as if for the right words. “Anne was a kind woman. We shared a bond of friendship, affection even,” he paused, “but our marriage was not what most would expect.”
Elizabeth frowned, her brow furrowing at the implication of his words. “But Andrew…” She stopped, feeling intrusive but unable to stop the question from forming. “You have a son.”
Darcy’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and he grabbed the poker, jabbing it into the fire. Sparks jumped and he continued. “Yes,” he said after a long pause. “But that is a more complicated matter—He is my son now, in every way that matters, but it didn’t start that way. Anne, my cousin, needed a father for her child, and I couldn’t abandon her.”
Waves of relief and unease washed over her in equal measure. “I see,” she murmured, not entirely sure that she did. He sat down once more and again took her hand in his. “Then we are both treading on unfamiliar ground.”
Now it was his turn to flush. “Well, not entirely. My relationship with Anne may have been different than the typical marriage, but my formative years as a youth and young man were not.”
“Oh.”
He shook his head. “I don’t say this to demean you, Elizabeth, but rather to assure you that, as with Anne, I will never demand anything from you that you are not ready to give.”
“Then…” she stared at his hands rather than meet his eyes, “what happens tonight?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
His thumb moved in slow circles on the back of her hand, sending shivers of electricity up her arm. “That is up to you. I won’t lie—consummation is necessary to ensure there is no chance of annulment. But I will not proceed unless you are willing. I would never force you into anything you are not ready for. We can take our time, and I promise to be as gentle as I can.”
Her chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the restraint in his posture, and it moved her deeply. “Thank you,” she said softly. “But… I think we must. There has been too much risk already, too much gossip. I do not want to leave room for further scandal.”
Darcy’s eyes searched hers, and he nodded slowly. “Then we will proceed—on your terms, Elizabeth. I will be as slow and patient as you need.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, her pulse racing with an unfamiliar longing. He was asking her. She closed her eyes and leaned forward again, not really certain what to expect, but certain that he was the only man she wanted to share it with. His honesty and tenderness were a balm to her frayed nerves, but the unknown still loomed before her like an insurmountable wall. She met his gaze, her voice trembling as she said, “I’m nervous, Fitzwilliam. But I trust you.”
His hand tightened around hers, his eyes filled with a quiet intensity. “I will do everything in my power to make this a night of tenderness and care, Elizabeth. You are my wife now, but more than that, you are my partner. Your comfort is my highest priority.”
Her heart swelled at his words, and she managed a small smile. “Then I trust you to guide me.”
He leaned down then, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tentative and full of unspoken promises. It was a kiss that spoke of patience, respect, and a burgeoning affection that neither of them dared name yet. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers, silently asking for her permission to take the next step.
Elizabeth nodded, her trust in him outweighing her lingering nerves. Darcy rose from the seat, extending a hand to her. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He led her to the bed, his movements unhurried, his touch light as he helped her settleagainst the pillows. He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a gentle, lingering kiss that sent a warmth through her chest.
