Karen Wasylowski - Darcy and Fitzwilliam - A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

He studied her hands, so cool and delicate encased within his large, scarred ones, and they were indeed hands that worked at many tasks, clean and neat but not manicured or fussed over. Bringing them to his lips, he kissed them both. “Is applesauce to be our only impediment, then?” His lips brushed lightly across her forehead, her cheek, her neck. She really did smell wonderful.

Her mind was suddenly very muddled. “No, of course not. That would be childish.” She sighed and wondered what that wonderful scent was on his neck. It was very exciting, very masculine. “Well, ahem , my heavens, let’s see; there’s also apple pie and apple butter and apple…” She knew she was making no sense, and her voice trailed off with the heady feel of his warm breath on her closed eyelids.

“Yes, go on. You were speaking about apples, I believe. What other affront am I to battle with regards to apples?”

“Tarts,” she rasped. He raised his eyebrows, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. She shook her head in momentary confusion. “Apple tarts, that is. Yes, that’s it, apple tarts.”

“Ah. Thank you for clarifying that. Well, you may be correct. However, I am only a second son, so my life has long been my own to decide, with my so-called exalted heritage of a level that I can do pretty much whatever I want and still be fawned over outrageously by the peerage.” He pressed her fingertips to his heart.

“And, while perhaps you are right and we only have right now, not tomorrow or next week, I cannot help but think that there is more to us than mere physical attraction.” All the gentle teasing gone from his eyes, he stared seriously at her. “You have lit up something within me, Amanda, an area that has been dark all my life, an area that I refuse to have go dark again. It is as if I had never lived before.”

And suddenly she knew for a fact that nothing would ever be the same; everything he was saying was true. She was feeling the exact emotions as he, also alive for the first time in her life. His feelings mirrored her own so nearly that she shivered, began to entertain a thin ray of hope. It was frightening, allowing herself a moment to stand on the threshold of something wonderful, holding hands with the man, the only man, who had ever made her heart race and her knees weaken. Amanda pressed her back against the wall and stared mutely up at him and then down at their two hands still tightly interlocked.

The music, the laughter, the three hundred voices had faded into silence. Fitzwilliam tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear then rested his forearm on the wall next to her head, his smiling lips mere inches away from hers. She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again while her eyes drifted from his rumpled hair to his shining eyes and down again to his mouth.

She had waited for this moment her whole life. This is my beloved.

Resting his hand over her heart, he felt it pounding as hard as his. Her eyes brimmed with joyful tears as both her hands came up to press his more firmly against her breast. The moment had an unreal feel to it, as if two souls destined to journey together throughout eternity had finally been reunited.

They had finally both come home.

They blended together smoothly, then, their embrace encircling and their mouths slanting each to the other. His arms slipped around her waist and her shoulders, and his hand plunged into her hair. She was eager and pliant and passionate.

How long did they stand there as their kiss deepened, their hands growing more and more bold with passion? Five minutes or five hours—neither of them could later say. They were lost in that kiss, a cessation of time and space wherein she felt she could not hold him close enough, nor did he feel that he could kiss her deeply enough. But they kept trying, nonetheless. With his body, he pressed hers hard against the balcony wall, their tongues caressing. “This is madness,” she gasped.

“Insanity,” he agreed.

When they finally separated and rested their foreheads together, they smiled, warm and silly and in a besotted shock, breathing raggedly.

Then another even more passionate kiss began, leading into another.

And then one more.

“Fitzwilliam? Fitz? Where in bloody hell is that old fart?” Darcy muttered. “Richard, you’d better not be taking a piss off the…” He finally saw the couple in the far shadows, recognizing them a second later. The woman had jumped at the sound of his voice and now turned her flushed face away, hiding it in the shoulder of his cousin.

“Pardon, Fitz, oh my, forgive me for intruding.” Stunned, Darcy stepped back, attempting to make a hasty retreat from the terrace.

“What is it, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam managed to say finally.

“Nothing, nothing really…” Darcy tried averting his eyes, but they kept flinging themselves back to the embracing couple. “Well, Fitz, I feel quite ridiculous. Georgiana is getting anxious in the crowd, and Aunt Catherine is concerned, wants us to take her home, but it can wait, good Lord, it can wait. Carry on… I mean, please excuse my intrusion.” He walked back into the ballroom, cursing his own stupidity.

Amanda pulled back from the embrace to stare deeply into Fitzwilliam’s eyes. She was sadly tumbling back down into reality. Even if they could surmount all other obstacles, there was still her son—she would never marry, could never leave her son. He tried to return to that magic, pulling her close in his arms, and she reached up to caress his cheek. “I must go.”

“Don’t leave, please,” he whispered so earnestly. “Stay with me, forever.”

She stared long and hard into his eyes. “You could not understand what you ask,” she whispered back. “This must end here. Forgive me, Colonel, but there really is no future for us.”

“I found the one whom my soul loves.” She mourned within at the words. Was that not the Psalm at last Sunday’s mass? Foolishly, she had believed at the time it an omen of good luck. Her broken heart twisted with the thought. “I am promised to another, Colonel.”

His iron jaw clenched, and he took a quick step back, still holding her arms. “I beg your pardon?”

“Yes. I am promised to another. I am afraid that there really is no future for us.”

He stared down at her for a few moments. Something was very wrong here. Nothing made sense. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He chuckled, blithely dismissing her comment with a smile. Hoping to read her thoughts, desiring only to stare again into her eyes, he attempted to lift her resisting chin with his finger. “No. No, I will not believe this. You are teasing me for some reason. Have I offended you, been too forward, is that it? I can assure you, madam, that my intentions are more than honorable. I’m in love with you, Amanda.”

Amanda cleared her throat. “Forgive me. It was the romance of the night.” She looked away, her eyes misting. “I forgot myself just a little.”

What? Fitzwilliam’s head shot back. “Forgot yourself ‘ just a little’ ?! You quite amaze me with that immense understatement. Explain yourself.”

Amanda began to stammer. “W-w-well, I was s-swayed by the lovely night, by the wine, but I am more lucid now. I couldn’t think before, you see. The fact is that I am involved with someone else, and it would be unfair to him, as well as you, to allow this to go on any further.” Her voice sounded thin and completely unconvincing, even to herself. “If my emotions have been carried away, I can only explain it by saying I am only human after all.”

“Huh!” He threw an amused glance at her, one eyebrow quirking itself to death with its skepticism. “Please do not lie to me, Amanda.” His tone became authoritative, firm. It was as if he was reprimanding a recalcitrant child. “I am not an idiot, my dear. There could be no one else, as we both know. What sort of foolishness do you play here?”