Eternal Flame ~ A Pemberley Fairy Tale

Chapter Twenty-four

Darkness cloaked the room as the dawn chorus began to sing. Darcy lay awake, picking out the individual trills and chirps. Beside him, Lizzy murmured in her sleep and her hand tightened around his waist. He loved the way she clung to him at night. Sometimes it was a challenge to disentangle himself when he wanted to slip out of bed without waking her. Most mornings he preferred to enjoy the warmth of her body pressed against his side and the weight of her leg across his.

She shifted again, tantalising him as she writhed and stretched. “William?” she murmured. “Are you awake?”

“Happy New Year, love.”

She squeezed him and he heard the smile in her voice as she said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“The best year I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled. “Well, technically we haven’t seen that much of it yet. It’s only seven hours old.”

“Whatever happens, I know this year is going to be the best.”

He turned towards her, exploring the now familiar planes of her face with his fingers. Despite the darkness she was the most beautiful woman he’d known in the last one hundred and ninety odd years. Even with his eyes closed he could visualise her smile at will, her happiness blinding him like his own private sun.

His mind wandered to the ritual he’d practiced every morning since his wedding day. The chill slice of the blade across his skin no longer bothered him. No, the only thing he dreaded now was the inevitable healing, the proof that he was still—despite all his hopes—something freakish, still less than a man.

Desperate to distract himself from the maudlin direction of his thoughts, William dragged his lips across her cheek until he found her mouth, soft and sweet like a ripe fruit. She opened under him, responding to his touch, her lips caressing him eagerly, twisting his desperation into adoration. He only truly existed with Liz. At all other times he was merely living a pale copy of his life.

Every night he prayed that he would become the husband she deserved, not some distortion wrapped in the semblance of a human being.

As his agitation grew a single touch calmed his soul, the gentle caress of her fingertips against his throat casting his dark thoughts far away. Whenever the doubts hovered she saved him from the black crevice of despair with no other weapon than her love. In truth, he had never been her knight in shining armour. She was his saviour and he would spend every moment of his existence showing her how much he needed her.

He pulled her closer, his hands roaming down her bare back as she wrapped herself around him. As the pale sun peeked over the bleak Derbyshire hills outside, bathing the valley in the cool light of dawn, their hearts, minds and bodies melded into one, reaffirming their physical and spiritual connection.

When he woke again it was past nine o’clock. The muffled sound of running water in Liz’s bathroom reminded him what day it was. Everyone would expect them to attend the first service of the year in the chapel. His extended family on the estate had welcomed Liz with warmth and an openness she had returned tenfold. The young woman, who—apart from her father—had never known a truly loving family, now had a whole village full of grandparent, aunt, uncle and cousin substitutes who all adored her.

But no one loved her like he did.

He climbed out of bed and retrieved his robe from the floor, wrapping it loosely around his waist. Darcy wandered into his own bedchamber and through to his bathroom, locking the door behind him. Leaning his palms against the chill tiles of the countertop he stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for a grey hair or a wrinkle, any tell-tale sign that he was a normal man with a normal life. He wanted it so badly he could taste it.