Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

He was dreaming of horses. Beautiful Arabians and Andalusians. It was a painting he had seen as a child come to life. They were charging toward him, but he was thrilled, not frightened. Suddenly there was his father’s beloved mount, Jezebel, another distant memory from his childhood. Jezebel had been a magnificent beast. She and the grand old stallion, Caesar, were both responsible for many of the current stock in the Pemberley stables, and they were both running to him, as if they were young again and alive. All at once he was atop Jezebel, enjoying the wind blowing through his hair. She galloped faster and faster, her sinuous strong legs moving beneath him, changing again into a huge bird that flapped her wings, and off she was flying, over Pemberley and over Netherfield and over Rosings.

I should return home, he tossed about fitfully once or twice, fighting the joy of shirked duty, but he felt so free. No worries about babies or stress or complications, only the soft, sweet breeze on his face, now the tender erotic sensation of moisture tingling his neck and back, the sensuous feeling of arms and legs wrapping around him, full breasts pressed against his bare back. Oh my, but he really and truly loved women’s breasts, was always guilty about his unseemly and unwavering obsession with them. It was indecorous and common. If only he could stop smiling. He grinned happily now at how warm and soft they were, like spongy pillows, firm and big. He imagined his Lizzy before him, slim once again as she was prior to the pregnancy, her breasts not the tiny delicate buds she possessed before but engorged with milk as they were now. He loved looking at them and touching them. Hell, he reasoned, this is my dream. I can think whatever I want. He hoped she would breast-feed the baby for a very long time, possibly twenty years or so.

His chuckle turned into a moan as he found himself becoming more and more aroused, and he began to force himself awake, forgetting completely that he was not at home.

“Lizzy?” he gasped in pleasure, a soft tongue moving inside his ear and then delicate nibbles on his neck, a small, warm hand reaching around from behind, taking him and stroking him harder and harder. “Oh God, Lizzy?!” He was waking quickly now. She was never this bold with him, not usually, anyway, and his hand moved instinctively backward to grab at her. But… something was terribly wrong. Something felt different. Rounder. Sitting suddenly upright, he turned to face Caroline. Lying behind him, she was wearing the sheerest of nightgowns and smiling the brightest of smiles.

And she was still intimately holding him in her hand.

“Surprise!” She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

Darcy swatted away her hand and jumped from the bed, then grabbed at the sheet to hide his nakedness, still staggering a bit. “What in bloody hell are you doing, Caroline? How did you get in here?” He stared stupidly at the adjoining door to the sitting room that now stood wide open, while the hall door still remained solidly barricaded.

“Why, I’m seducing you, Mr. Darcy.” She grabbed at the sheet he had wrapped about him so tightly and, hand over fist, began pulling him back into the bed. “At least I am making an attempt at it! You could help me, you know.”

“The hell you are.” Darcy yanked furiously back on the sheet and stood fuming, his fists clutching the material. “The hell I will!”

“Oh, come back to bed. Don’t be such a child.” Her gaze drifted up and down his body as she stretched out her legs and pulled her nightgown hem up to her knees. Reclining seductively on her side, she patted his half of the bed.

“Mr. Darcy, you are aging uncommonly well, I must say. Your shoulders are much larger than I remember. In fact, everything is larger than I remember.” Grinning, she arranged her hair over the pillow then rested her arms above her head, which lifted her breasts seductively.

“Honestly, Caroline, you must be insane… or a congenital idiot.” She pouted and began again to reach for his sheet. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, stop this at once!” Glaring at her, he angrily flung the sheet in her face then stomped over to the chair, roughly beginning to dress, throwing on his smallclothes, pants, and shirt. He was staggering still and somewhat drunk, his head pounding wickedly. He wanted to vomit. “You must be mad, woman! Have you no sense of decency left within you?” He sat down with an “oomph” to pull on his boots. “Sneaking in on a man… taking liberties… got me drunk…” He slammed down his foot to settle his boot firmer. “God damn it, Caroline! God damn it to hell! I feel violated! Of all the imbecilic, asinine stunts you have pulled, this is by far the worst.” He slammed down his second boot to settle it. “How dare you do this to me! I gather that Charles and Jane are miles from here, and that I have been a dimwitted ass.”