Chapter 77
Most of this chapter will be familiar to many of you, as a vignette I posted some time ago for Valentine’s Day called “Cabin Fever.” I have made some small modifications (not to the plot—just streamlining the writing here and there), and extended it somewhat.
This chapter is heavy on mush, light on plot. That ratio will turn around starting with the next chapter.
“Are you sure the heat is all the way up?” Elizabeth asked, rubbing her hands together in an attempt to warm them. She thought forlornly of the warm gloves packed away in her suitcase.
William gave her an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry, cara. I’d like to strangle the rental car company.”
He had rented a luxury SUV for the trip, concerned about how his Ferrari would handle snow-covered roads. But the SUV, as they had learned too late, had a major weakness—the fan for the heater blew only an anemic amount of warm air. It wouldn’t have mattered much in San Francisco, but here in the Sierra Nevadas on a frigid night in February, Elizabeth’s fingers and toes were becoming stiff from the cold.
“Let me give you my coat,” he said, “and you can wrap it around you and bury your hands in the sleeves.”
“Don’t be silly—then you’ll freeze.”
“I’ll be fine. I think it’s warmer on my side of the car. In fact, I’d invite you over to sit on my lap, but you’d distract me from my driving. At least, I hope you would.”
Elizabeth smiled. “That would warm me up, though.”
“Mmm. I’m getting … warm just thinking about it.”
It was dark in the car and William’s eyes were on the road, but Elizabeth didn’t need to see his face to envision his crooked grin and the come-hither look in his eyes. She had met his flight a few hours before, ending a separation that had seemed like two months, not two weeks. From the moment he had swept her into his arms at the airport, he had made it clear what his first priority would be once they reached their destination.
He shrugged off his coat, which required some contortions due to his height, and passed it to Elizabeth. She pulled it around her, sighing happily as she inhaled a faint whiff of his scent. “Mmmm, thank you. So you’ve given me the coat off your back. How about the shirt?”
“That comes later,” he murmured in a deep voice that sent a tingle up her spine. He reached out, stroking her cheek with a gloved hand.
She caught his hand. “I think you’d better keep your mind on the road, Mr. Darcy!”
“You know perfectly well that my mind is constantly on you, Ms. Bennet.”
They were on their way to Lake Tahoe for a belated Valentine’s Day celebration—belated because
William had been unable to leave New York until early that
afternoon. Elizabeth had been disgruntled when she had learned that they would
be apart on February fourteenth. To have a Valentine for the first time in years, and then to be separated
by three thousand miles on Valentine’s Day, had seemed like a cruel joke. But his suggestion
of a weekend of skiing and romance—not necessarily in that order—had
been the perfect solution.
He had done his best to make Valentine’s Day special for her despite his absence.
A pink Phalaenopsis orchid had arrived at
the condo earlier in the week, and three dozen red roses had been delivered to school yesterday, each
floral offering accompanied by an intimate note.
“The flowers were beautiful,” she said, “but you didn’t need to send so many.”
He shrugged. “I told you, I like sending you flowers. And the more I send, the better I like it.”
“Well, at least I can give you your Valentine’s Day gift this weekend, and then we’ll be sort of even.”
“I’m not keeping score, cara, so stop worrying about it. Besides, the flowers weren’t your gift. I brought that with me.”
“You do know that you spoil me rotten, don’t you?”
“You should know by now that I have no plans to stop.”
She laughed softly at his imperious tone. “You’re full of yourself today.”
He glanced over, and in the weak light she could barely see him quirk an eyebrow suggestively. “What I want is for you to be full of me.”
“You are so bad,” she murmured. A shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cold.
With an unrepentant smirk, he retrieved a sheet of paper from the dashboard and handed it to her. “Would you do me a favor? Check the directions and figure out how much longer it’s going to take us get there. I’m becoming extremely impatient.”
She smiled in silent agreement and switched on the map light. She stared at the page, frowning. “Wait a minute. This is an e-mail. You printed one of your e-mails? It’s hard enough to get you to read your e-mail.”
“Very funny. And, no, I didn’t print it. Sonya did.”
“I should have known,” she retorted with a saucy grin. “It looks like we have another 45 minutes to go on Route 50, and maybe half an hour after that.”
He sighed. “I was hoping we’d be there sooner. I have a vision of you naked on a bearskin rug in front of the fireplace that I’m dying to see in real life.”
“Does this place have a bearskin rug?”
“Not precisely, but it’s got a good substitute. Besides, didn’t you notice my extra suitcase? The one with the bear’s head sticking out of it?” He glanced at her, and even in the darkness she saw the wicked glint in his eye.
She laughed softly and burrowed deeper into his coat, rubbing her cheek against the soft cashmere. Her eyes drifted shut and she succumbed to the exhaustion wrought by a long, busy week at school.
When she awoke some time later, they were winding their way along a narrow mountain road. The car’s headlights revealed deep snow blanketing the ground, though the road looked freshly plowed. Towering pine trees lined the road on both sides, stretching upward to touch the stars liberally sprinkled across the inky sky.
William was speaking softly into his cell phone. “So everything’s set, then? Excellent … No, you don’t need to wait for us. We should be there soon, and I have a key … Yes, thank you. Good bye.”
She yawned and shifted in her seat, massaging a kink out of her neck.
“Hi there,” he said. The dimple creasing his cheek was thrown into relief by the headlights of an oncoming car.
“How long have I been asleep?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“Almost an hour.”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to, but it’s been a long week.”
“It’s good that you got a nap. My plans for tonight don’t include much sleep.”
There was no question what occupied his thoughts, and to be truthful, she had been thinking of little else herself. She buried her nose in his coat, inhaling his scent again, and a current of desire flowed through her.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked.
“The caretaker of the house where we’re staying. I wanted to make sure everything was ready.”
William made a right turn, proceeding up an even narrower, steeper road. The forest around them became dense and still, the primitive beauty of nature undisturbed.
“Here we are,” he announced a few minutes later. He turned into a driveway, and Elizabeth saw light filtering through the trees. They reached a clearing, and she gasped at the sight of a massive log home, its interior glowing with warm golden light. She laughed to herself as she thought of the simple cabin in the woods she had envisioned. She should have known better: “simple” wasn’t in William Darcy’s vocabulary.
She jumped out of the car, still swathed in his coat, and inhaled the crisp mountain air tinged with an acrid hint of wood smoke. A spectacular array of stars filled the sky, presided over by a thin sliver of moon.
“What do you think?” he asked, enfolding her in his arms.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. The only sounds were the faint whisper of the breeze filtering through the trees and the rhythmic ticking of the SUV’s engine as it cooled.
“I hope you don’t mind that it’s away from the slopes. I like that it’s secluded, but I wasn’t sure if you’d agree.”
“It’s perfect.” Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her lips against his in a soft, lingering kiss. When his arms tightened around her and the kiss grew more urgent, she drew away from him. “Let’s go inside. You’re going to freeze out here without a coat.”
He retrieved their bags from the back of the SUV, though Elizabeth insisted on carrying her own suitcase to the house. As they followed the path to the front door, she asked, “How did you find this place?”
“It belongs to Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Robert. I’ve been up here maybe half a dozen times over the years, but I’d forgotten about it until Aunt Eleanor mentioned it a few weeks ago. It sits empty so much that she was happy for us to use it.”
The entire first floor was open, creating a large, airy space. The room communicated rustic elegance, from the vaulted ceiling
of polished logs and the rough-hewn stone wall framing the fireplace, to the simple décor that allowed
the beauty of the house and its setting to dominate. A fire blazed in the hearth,
filling the room with warmth and casting deep, flickering shadows.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, setting his coat on a table and then removing her own. “It’s so beautiful.”
As she spoke, she noticed a white sheepskin rug in front of the fireplace. A ripple of excitement coursed through her as she recalled his suggestive comment in the car. The ripple spread and grew when she felt him standing close behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
William tightened his arms around Elizabeth, intoxicated by her nearness. This was heady stuff for a man who had spent the last two weeks on a starvation diet of nightly phone calls and empty fantasies.
“I’ve missed you,” he murmured in her ear. “I’ve dreamed of holding you like this, of how soft and warm you feel in my arms.” His lips wandered down her neck, and her answering sigh sounded like the purr of a contented cat.
Heat spiked inside him with alarming rapidity. After spending more than three hours in the car with her, fighting the temptation to find a secluded spot or a roadside motel and satisfy his fierce hunger, the prolonged anticipation was becoming unbearable. He pressed his hips tightly to hers, inhaling a shuddering breath as he rubbed himself against her.
“Lizzy, you have no idea how much I want you,” he whispered. “You drive me mad. I can’t think of anything but you.” He continued to nibble her neck as his hands swept up from her waist to capture her breasts. She purred again as he cupped them in his palms, massaging them gently through the barrier of her clothing.
“Every night for the past two weeks, I’ve been alone in my bed, aching for you,” he continued, his voice low and husky. “Longing to see you, to touch you, to feel your hands on me.” He trailed one hand down to her belly and then back up while his other hand continued its attentions to her breasts. She pressed back against him, circling her hips and moaning softly, and he groaned deep in his throat. The woman he adored was in his arms, warm and yielding and wanting him, and the urge to possess her immediately was almost overwhelming.
She turned in his arms, her lips parted, her eyes hazy with desire. “I’ve ached for you too,” she breathed. “I missed you every day, and especially every night.” She wound her arms around his neck, and his mouth covered hers hungrily as she melted against him.
His pulse was racing, his body taut as a bowstring as they devoured each other’s mouths, nibbling and sucking, tongues tasting and exploring. He pressed his hips forward, letting her feel him hard and swollen and pushing against the restraining fabric of his jeans. Her soft hands caressed his neck and twined in his hair. He swept a hand under her sweater and stroked his way up her back, deftly unhooking her bra. Then his hand slid around to the front and he pushed the lacy garment aside, capturing a round breast in his hand and kneading it gently. She whimpered softly as his fingers sought out her nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak.
“Should we find the bedroom?” she asked, breathless, as she reached under his sweater to tug his shirttail loose from his jeans.
“No,” he growled. “The bedroom can wait.”
He led her to a sofa in front of the fireplace and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. She was so beautiful, her green eyes clouded with passion, her lips swollen from their avid kisses. He released her hair from the clip holding it in place, and her smoky curls fell around her shoulders like a thick veil. He buried his hands in her hair and reclaimed her lips, which eagerly parted under his. She slipped her hands inside his shirt, stroking his lower back, while his hands found their way back under her sweater to cup her breasts, exploring their weight and softness. Their urgent kisses continued until finally they broke apart, breathless.
“Lizzy, I need you so much,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He unfastened her jeans and coaxed her to lift her hips so he could slide them down her legs. She assisted him in removing them, and soon they lay pooled at her feet on the floor. They continued to kiss, deep, hot kisses full of pent-up longing, as his hand moved purposefully lower, caressing her thighs and then sliding over the narrow strip of nylon between her legs.
Her breath caught in her chest as he continued to stroke her there, his fingers slipping beneath the thin fabric to touch her even more intimately. He again encouraged her to lift her hips, and soon her panties lay on the floor with her jeans. He caressed her, and she writhed beneath his hand, her eyes squeezed shut, her breathing erratic.
“Oh, Will,” she said in a ragged whisper. “I need you too. Please.”
“Here, cara,” he said, encouraging her to sit astride him, facing him. She raised up on her knees, and he opened his zipper with shaking hands, and then yanked his jeans and boxers down out of the way. He sprang free, throbbing with need, and she reached down to skim her fingers over him while blood pounded in his ears.
He guided her into position and she took him into her slowly, so very slowly. His groan rumbled deep in his chest as he pressed ever deeper into her warmth. She bit her lip and moaned softly, her eyes closed. The pure rapture of being joined with her overwhelmed him, making it difficult to breathe.
She began to rock her hips in a circular motion, her sighs and soft gasps inflaming him as much as her movements. It was all too much for his wildly aroused body and mind to absorb, and he felt a familiar tightening inside of him. No, please, not yet. In a frantic, almost heroic gesture, he grasped her hips, holding her motionless.
“Lizzy, stop,” he gasped. His heart was racing and he was careening toward a release that was coming too fast, too soon.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, a dazed expression in her eyes, her breathing shallow and rapid.
“Please, love, hold still for a minute.” He closed his eyes, his face contorted as he struggled to wrest control away from his ravenous body. Concentrate. Deep breaths. She’s not in my arms, sweet and passionate and entirely mine. She’s not surrounding me, engulfing me, warm and soft and snug. No. I need to think about something else. Bad orchestras I’ve performed with. Awkward encounters with fans. Anything but the fact that I’m hanging on by a thread.
She drew back and inspected him carefully. “Will, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me. You look like you’re in pain.”
“No, exactly the opposite,” he said through gritted teeth. “You feel so good, Lizzy.” His breathing was labored, and his eyes were still closed. “We need to slow down, or I’m not going to be able to hold on.”
“But I don’t want you to hold on.” She resumed rocking her hips and wrapped her arms around his neck, gently grazing his ear lobe with her teeth.
“Lizzy, please, I’m serious,” he groaned, but this time he didn’t have the will to stop her.
“So am I,” she replied, nibbling his lips as her hand slid inside his shirt, caressing his chest.
“But if we don’t slow down, you won’t—” His words dissolved into another, louder groan as she increased the pace of her movements.
His throat tightened when he saw the love shining in her eyes. “Like you said earlier,” she whispered, “I’m not keeping score. Besides, I can have my turn later. Just let go, Will—it’s what you need right now. It’s what I want you to do.”
Any tenuous control he had regained was shredded by her invitation. After only a split-second of hesitation, he grasped her hips again, but this time it was to brace himself as he thrust up into her repeatedly, moaning her name as he teetered on the edge of release. He had been starving for her for too long, and the sensation was too electrifying, too overwhelming to prolong this delicious torture any further. With a hoarse shout, he tightened his grip on her and exploded, driving his hips upward as his body was racked by powerful tremors.
His chest heaving, William’s head fell back against the sofa. Elizabeth leaned forward, stroking his hair and pressing gentle kisses to his face as his breathing slowed. Then she straightened up, resting her hands on his shoulders. Still sheathed inside of her, he drank in the pleasure in her eyes as she undulated slowly, rubbing against him. A low, soft moan escaped her lips and she closed her eyes.
“I’m sorry, love,” he said, touching her hair lightly. “A fine gentleman I am—I rush you in here, tear off your clothes, and then race to the finish line like a selfish jerk.”
“I’m doing just fine,” she breathed, still moving against him as his erection gradually subsided. “Besides, I liked seeing you go crazy, and knowing I was the one who had made you that way.”
“You always make me that way, Lizzy.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to him. “You have from the day I met you.”
She relaxed against him, and he reached under her sweater, his palm enveloping a breast. He stroked its taut nipple gently as she arched against his hand, making soft sounds of pleasure.
“And, by the way,” he murmured, “you still have a date with that white rug in front of the fire. But it can wait till tomorrow.”
His eyelids felt heavy, and as he gazed into the hypnotic firelight, he realized that he could easily drift off to sleep. But had no intention of sleeping tonight until he had brought her to the same shuddering peak she had helped him to reach just a few minutes before.
He encouraged her to stand, and then pulled up his jeans. Summoning his remaining strength, he stood up and threw a stunned, half-naked Elizabeth over his shoulder.
She let out a little shriek as he made his way toward the steps. “Where are you taking
me?” 
“To bed,” he grunted, his heavy footfalls echoing in the stairway.
She was laughing now. “Why the cave man routine?”
“I’m taking charge. You may not be keeping score, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in your debt at the moment.”
He carried her into the bedroom and tossed her onto the bed. She lay there looking up at him, her eyes dancing with laughter. He collapsed beside her and gathered her into his arms.
“And you know,” he murmured against her lips, “I always pay my debts with interest.”
Much later, Elizabeth snuggled against William, smiling blissfully as she savored his warmth. Every fiber in her body felt limp and throughly sated—he had paid his debt and then some.
She pressed a kiss to his jaw, expecting no response—his eyes were closed and he hadn’t spoken in several minutes. But to her surprise, he trailed his fingers up her arm, ending with a light caress to her tangled hair. “I thought you were asleep,” she murmured.
“Almost.”
A log split in two and the fire leapt to life, its shifting light bouncing off the ceiling and bathing the sheet covering Elizabeth’s shoulders in a ruddy glow. “What do you want to do tomorrow?” she asked. Even her voice was weak.
“Mmmm.” His hand slid lower, finding its target with calm assurance.
“Besides that.”
His lascivious chuckle made her smile again.
“I was hoping to ski at least once or twice while we’re here.” She smoothed his hair off his forehead.
“Once or twice.” He yawned and pulled her closer, his voice a barely intelligible mumble. “Unless you look so sexy you look in ski clothes that I can’t let you out of the house.”
Barely a minute passed before his chest began to rise and fall in the slow rhythm of sleep that she had come to know so well. She closed her eyes, listening to the occasional crackles and pops coming from the fireplace, and soon heard nothing at all.
William dug his skis into the snow, creating a localized flurry of snowflakes as he lurched to a stop beside Elizabeth. His lungs burned, and his cheeks felt tight from the rivers of frigid air that had rushed past his face on the trip down the mountain. He planted his ski poles in the ground beside him, squinting at the blinding whiteness of the terrain.
Elizabeth waved one pole in the air. “Ha! I won!”
“Yes, you won.” He rolled his eyes, breathing hard.
“Told you I’d win. I knew I could beat the pants off you in a downhill race.”
“Cara, any time you want my pants off, all you have to do is ask. There’s no need to fly down the side of a mountain.”
She giggled and pushed a finger at his chest. “You say that now, but I bet after we’ve been married for a couple of years your tune will change. You’ll be all, ’Not now, Elizabeth. I have to practice.’”
“I wouldn’t be that way after a couple of centuries.” He gulped in a frosty stream of air. “As you know perfectly well.”
“I guess I do.” She smiled up at him, her cheeks pink from the cold, her eyes even greener than usual against the vivid blue sky. “Ready for a rematch?”
He shook his head emphatically. “I need a break. Let’s go into the lodge and warm up, and maybe have some mulled wine or hot chocolate.” The image of a plush sofa for two in front of a massive stone fireplace, Elizabeth’s head on his shoulder as they sipped something warm, swam in front of his weary eyes.
She pursed her lips and peeked up at him. “Chicken.”
“I am not.”
“Afraid of being beaten twice in a row by a girl?”
“Of course not.” She had zoomed past him almost at once, and he had struggled even to keep her in view, but he refused to admit it. He folded his arms across his chest and eyed her haughtily. “I didn’t get a good start, or I would have beaten you the first time.”
She clucked and tucked her arms into her armpits, wiggling her elbows as though she flapped a pair of wings.
He heaved a sigh, a reluctant smile curving his lips. “Oh, all right.” He grabbed his ski poles. The mulled wine—and the warm sofa in the lounge—would have to wait.
“Double or nothing?” she asked.
“Let’s go.” He lifted his chin. “You’re about to eat my powder.”
Elizabeth lounged on the bed, admiring the delicate diamond and emerald tennis bracelet encircling her wrist. Valentine’s Day was fast becoming her favorite holiday. “What’s taking so long?” she called. She could hear water running in the bathroom.
“I’m shaving. I know you like me nice and smooth.”
She grinned. She liked him stubbly, too. “Hurry up. I’m getting lonely out here.” She reached for the champagne glass on the night table and sipped, wrinkling her nose. She didn’t share William’s preference for dry champagne.
He strolled in from the bathroom, looking so tall and lean in his black silk robe that she almost groaned. He bent over to poke at the fire, and she licked her lips at the view. “Are you wearing it?” she asked.
He straightened and turned to face her, one eyebrow aloft above a wicked grin. “Yes,” he drawled.
“I won the race … and the bet.”
He nodded.
“And the rematch. Double or nothing.”
He nodded again, and his grin went from wicked to dangerous. “Tonight and tomorrow, I’m yours to command.”
She leaned back against the pillows, her arms folded behind her head. “This is going to be fun.”
“I’m awaiting your instructions.”
“Hmm.” She waggled a finger in his direction .“Off with the robe.”
He paused, his hands on the silk belt .“If I were in charge, your robe would be the one coming off first. And you'd be downstairs on that sheepskin rug.”
“Well, you’re not in charge. And as for the sheepskin rug, maybe we can try it out later. Right now, I’m waiting.”
"Yes, ma’am." He drew the belt open and allowed the robe to slip off his shoulders, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he draped the garment across the foot of the bed and stood with his hands on his hips. “Well?”
She nodded slowly. “Very nice.” He wore a pair of dark blue satin boxer shorts—part of her Valentine’s Day gift to him. Her gaze crawled up his body at a leisurely pace. “Very nice indeed.”
“I’m glad you approve. What next?”
“You sound impatient.”
“It’s cold out here, and you look soft and warm and very sexy all curled up on the bed.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Besides, I’m not used to being your boy toy. I’m anxious to know what the job is going to entail.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Boy toy. Ooh, I like that.” She sat up, her head cocked to one side, and inspected him. “Okay, boy toy, I want you to model those shorts for me.”
“I already am.”
“You’re wearing them. I want you to model them.” She shook her head at his bewildered expression. “Pretend you’re a male underwear model on the catwalk, and every eye in the place is on you. Strut your stuff.”
“Strut my … stuff.” He licked his lips and frowned, and the fire in his eyes died as though doused in an ice bath.
She blew a stream of air through her lips and shook her head. “How did I fall in love with a man with so little imagination? You honestly don’t know what I’m asking you to do?”
“Oh, I know,” he said drily, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you can’t seriously expect me to do it.”
“If course I can. I won the bet. You have to do what I say.”
“Within reason. But I can’t …” He shrugged and snorted softly. “I can’t strut my stuff.”
“Not even for me?”
“Lizzy, I’d feel ridiculous prancing around the room.”
“Would you like me to sing ‘I’m Too Sexy,’ to give you some inspiration?” She began to sing in a guttural tone, making up lyrics to the tune of the 1990s hit song: “I’m too sexy for my shorts, too sexy for my shorts, too sexy to cavort.”
But he stood still, and although she couldn’t be sure in the dim light of the fire, it was possible that he even blushed. “When I modeled my glasses for you at Thanksgiving,” he said with a hint of entreaty in his voice, “I just put them on… and took off everything else. You didn’t make me do anything idiotic. And you seemed to enjoy it.”
“I did. In fact,” she contined with a smile, “it’s one of my fondest memories.”
He flashed his best boyish grin. “In that case …”
“I can’t believe it. William Darcy, backing out of a bet. So much for honor and integrity.” She suppressed a giggle when he rolled his eyes. “Okay, I’ll let you off the hook. But only because this bracelet is so gorgeous that it takes my breath away.”
He took a step toward the bed, but she held up both hands in a warning gesture. “Not so fast, boy toy. At the very least, you have to let me see you from all angles.” She drew a circle in the air with her index finger. “Turn around. And do it slowly.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “I suppose I can do that much.”
He followed her instructions with more enthusiasm than she had expected, rotating slowly, accompanied by frequent sultry glances over his shoulder. “How was that?” he asked when he faced her again.
“Not bad. The Chippendales will be calling you any day.”
“Not interested.” He strode toward her with his trademark masculine grace and perched on the edge of the bed. “This view is just for you, cara.”
“I didn’t say you could sit down.” But her hand didn’t seem to care. She watched it travel toward him, one fingers sliding over his shoulder and along the planes of his chest. Mine. Till death do us part. A shiver went through her.
“Cold?” he murmured, gathering her into his arms and pressing her backward to lie on the bed. “I’ll warm you up.”
“I didn’t say you could do this either.” But her weak protest was weakened further by her little moan as his lips zeroed in on a sensitive spot just below her ear.
“Any time you want me to stop,” he whispered, “just say the word.”
She knew she should say something—after all, she had won the bet, and was supposed to be in control. But it was hard to think about bets and control when he wouldn’t stop kissing her neck. She buried her hands in his hair and sighed softly, deciding that there was more than one way to win.
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Copyright © 2007 by the author
Last updated
July 15, 2007