Vampire Darcy's Desire (11 page)

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, you are most kind,” she said, simpering.

“Think nothing of it, Miss Bingley.”

Darcy hated to leave Elizabeth to find her own way to her room; he took great pleasure in kissing her good night. Her soft lips left a trail of fire over his; such thoughts brought a moan to his lips, but he stifled it. Leading Miss Bingley to her door, he bid her a pleasant night before heading for his own room. He could not turn around. Caroline Bingley would smudge Elizabeth’s reputation if she saw them together.

Elizabeth waited a quarter hour before she made her way to the servants’ staircase. She and Darcy normally returned to their rooms via the servants’ narrow stairway. He took Miss Bingley up the main staircase, some distance away from the stairs Elizabeth now climbed. She admired his sense of honor—the way he protected her. Elizabeth hoped they might continue to meet at the manor house as they planned, but they would have to be careful
.
It would not be as easy as the past few days. Slipping quietly into her room,
she prepared for sleep. Finally, after brushing her hair and donning her gown, she got into bed. “I will miss these times together,” she whispered, just to hear the words said out loud.Then she blew out the candle and slid down under the covers.

Darcy paced his room. Despising the way he left Elizabeth, he could think of nothing but
her.
“I wonder,” he said, running his fingers through his hair as if to clear his mind. He knew he could do it, but Darcy never tapped into his “powers,” those he inherited along with the curse. He could suspend time. No one would know he was there; he could transport himself to Elizabeth’s room without physically leaving the one he was in.Yet should he dare?
Would she welcome me?
Without dwelling any longer on the possibilities, Darcy cleared his mind and forced all his energies into moving through the hallways unseen. Like a vortex sucking in time and space, his mind projected a conjuration, beguiling those who slept in each of the rooms he mentally touched.

Silently, he entered where Elizabeth slept. He crept slowly to the bed’s edge—moving without sound. She was so innocently beautiful; his heart ached with a hunger he could never expect to fill. Lightly, Darcy traced the outline of her jaw—the chin, which she loved to raise in defiance. Enchanted by the moonlight streaming across her countenance, he bent to kiss her cheek.

His breath tickled Elizabeth’s skin, and she brushed at the touch of his lips, as if they were a butterfly’s wings flitting across her flesh. Darcy fought back a chuckle; she slept so soundly. Instead of touching her again, he pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat, watching her. He took great pleasure in watching Elizabeth sleep—the evenness of her breathing eased the anxiety he felt since leaving her in the study.

Her subconscious knew he was there; Elizabeth dreamed of him—dreamed of Darcy’s eyes on her.The image made her smile. What she would not give to open her eyes and find him in the room! Slits of fractured light brought her forward to meet wakefulness, although she fought to remain asleep and glory in his gaze. Yet something unknown called to her, and Elizabeth’s eyes
fluttered open. Pale blue eyes, so clear they were nearly transparent, met her gaze. “Fitzwilliam,” she muttered and stretched out a hand to the apparition.

When Darcy clasped her hand in his, the realization of what he did—where he was—shot through Elizabeth, and she bolted upright. “Mr. Darcy!” she gasped, “What are you doing here—in my room?”

Darcy smiled—she had not screamed out—not that it would matter after his enchantment.“Watching you sleep,Vixen.”

She clasped the sheet to her chest in an attempt at modesty, not remembering he had seen her in her nightgown previously, but Darcy did not protest. Elizabeth pushed her hair from her eyes. “How did you get in here? I locked the door!”

“Can you comprehend I possess powers we have not discussed?” He dropped to his knees beside the bed and eased her back onto the pillow.“I did not come to seduce you, my temptress. But I did not want our night to end with my escorting Caroline Bingley to her room.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed, but her eyes never left his. His icy blue ones searched hers as if he could read her innermost thoughts. “I dreamed you watched over me, and when I woke, there you were. Is that possible?”

“Is what possible,Vixen?” His fingertips circled the outline of her palm.

She whispered,“Such a connection?”

Darcy shook his head.“I cannot say—I do not know. I never used my powers before. But I could not leave you tonight of all nights.”

“How do the powers work?” She slid to one side so he might sit on the edge of the bed.

“I know not how to speak of them.They remain latent—resting beneath the surface. Focusing my energies allows me to move through time, bending it to my will. No one will know I am here; they sleep in another time. I came through a split—a narrow opening—it is like falling into quicksand—the grains of time swirling about—moving, but standing still at the same time. If
someone were to open your door right now, they would observe you asleep, because that is how you were when I entered your world. I have no other way to explain it. Think of it as a tear in time, one I slipped through.”

Quickly putting together the facts, Elizabeth noted, “I suppose that is how Evil finds its victims.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Elizabeth. These powers might be how others trick their human sacrifices, but I never used them before tonight.”

“I do not
fear
you, Fitzwilliam,” she assured him. “I simply thought out loud.This is all so new to me; I did things in the past week I never considered doing before.”

“I understand.” Darcy touched her lips with his fingertips.Then he lowered his head to kiss her lightly.The darkness held a light—a brightness shining from each of them.

“Fitzwilliam, I do not want this to end.” The words rushed from her like water breaking through a dam. “I want to continue to ride—to practice with the swords—to waltz—to spend time just talking.”

He brushed his lips across hers.“Do not forget the kissing.”

Elizabeth slid her arms around Darcy’s neck, pulling him close. “No, let us not forget the kissing.” Her words shot through him. He kissed her again, searching her mouth with his tongue.

When they broke apart, he started to pull away.“I must leave.”

“
Must
you?” Her words hung in the air between them. They were together because they needed to be. It was as if they lived in another world—one parallel to this one, where only they existed.

“Would you allow me to hold you? To lie next to you? I will not take advantage; on my honor, I will not.” He had taught himself not to hope for any true happiness; now, he feared Elizabeth might be his one disappointment.

They did not light a candle; the moonlight told the story.After a few uncomfortable moments, Elizabeth nodded her assent and threw back the covers on one side of the bed. Without conversation, he removed his boots before slipping in beside her. Darcy lay
next to Elizabeth, one arm embracing her; Elizabeth’s arm was on his chest, and her head nestled against his shoulder. He rested his chin on top of her head as he stroked the hair on the nape of her neck.“I will leave you with the light. Sleep; I will be here to protect you.” He breathed in her fragrance and held his breath to keep it there. Happiness had claimed him.

Breathing in the smell of maleness and sandalwood, Elizabeth kissed his chest. Then she closed her eyes and let the feeling of rightness overcome her.

Darcy waited until he was sure that she slept, and then his own eyes drifted closed. How natural all this felt! She was like a beacon for his tortured soul. He wanted more of this—this sense of contentment. Walking away from Elizabeth Bennet might take more strength and more courage than he possessed. He knew himself to be obsessed with her, but an addiction was hard to fight, and Darcy was unsure he wanted to go to battle. Losing would have its benefits. Such thoughts carried him into the realm of sleep.

When dawn broke, he no longer slept beside her. Several times during the night, Elizabeth woke to assure herself Darcy laid next to her in her narrow bed. Even though the warmth of him lingered on her body, she did not trust that she had slept in his arms throughout the night.
It was a dream—an exquisite dream, but a dream nonetheless.
She touched her lips; she could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. He hypnotized her with his charms—his desire to please her. Elizabeth Bennet was bewitched.

 

She saw him only briefly during the morning services; Darcy sat with the Bingleys on a pew in the front of the church, while she and Jane joined their family on the other side of the aisle. By leaning forward, she could see his profile. He sat with his eyes downcast throughout the sermon on Samson killing the honey-filled lion and then vanquishing the Philistines.

Elizabeth wondered how Darcy could sit in a church—could walk about during the day. Every tale she knew of werewolves and vampires and zombies rushed through her head.Were not vampires supposed to sleep in a coffin during the day? Were they not supposed to shun the daylight? Were they not supposed to subsist only on blood, eschewing food and water? Did the sight of the cross not make them flee? Yet Fitzwilliam Darcy, an avowed vampire, did none of these. He slept in a bed, walked in the sunlight, ate food—although it was true that he did avoid meat—and he sat before the cross in a church. Elizabeth could not justify these discrepancies.

When he took her hand to help her into the carriage, Elizabeth felt Darcy slip something into her palm. She clasped his note tightly, and without notice from anyone but Darcy, she slipped it into her reticule. He nodded silently to bid her farewell as she and Jane rode away from Netherfield. Elizabeth felt a sinking in the pit
of her stomach; she had left a part of her behind.

Darcy fought the urge to chase after the carriage that transported her away from him. Last night was the best night of his life. He closed his eyes and felt her stretched out along the length of his body, their legs entangled, her hair mussed and falling across his arms. Desire shot straight to his groin, while frustration swam in his veins.
Why can I not have her? Why has Fate shown me such great unkindness?
Reluctantly, he followed the Bingleys into the house. Charles seemed to feel almost as destitute as he did, but Darcy could not share his misery, for no one could understand what he possessed with Elizabeth.

 

Finally, at home and alone in her room, Elizabeth reached for the reticule.The note rested on the bottom, and she withdrew it slowly from its recesses, savoring the moment. He had touched it; she brought it to her face and smelled it—traces of sandalwood—traces of
him.
A smile flitted across her lips. She unfolded the paper and gave it her full attention.

Elizabeth’s heart jumped in her chest.
Yes.

Elizabeth hurried up the pathway to the back of the manor house. Darcy watched her from the kitchen window, delighting in the sight of her.When she burst through the door, he caught her in his arms and pulled her full to him, burying his face against her hair, kissing her with all the hunger of a starving man—starving for her.

When he broke the embrace, she giggled.“You missed me, Sir?”

“I greet all my lady friends this way,” he countered.

“I beg to differ, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe you kissed Miss Bingley in such a fashion.” She pulled away and crossed the room.

Darcy chuckled behind her.“I will grant you that,Vixen. I never kiss Miss Bingley.”

“And your other lady friends?” she said tauntingly.

He confessed,“Any there might have been are long ago forgotten. There is only you.”

Elizabeth smiled. “The perfect answer, Mr. Darcy.” Then she took his hand and led him towards the hall.“I need more practice.”

“I never saw a woman who loved to fight as much as you.” He laughingly followed her from the room.The practice rapiers lay on a nearby table. She picked up the nearest one and bent the steel, testing it. He picked up the other one and made a few practice forays.“Are you ready, my Lady?” He made an exaggerated bow in her direction.

“I am a willing vessel in your hands, Mr. Darcy.Teach me what I need to know,” she nearly purred.

“Oh,Vixen,” he moaned.“You should never say such words to a man who looks on a woman as I do you.”

She walked towards him, sashaying her hips, and cupped his cheek in her palm. Darcy turned his head to kiss the inside of her hand. Then she rose on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly. “You, Fitzwilliam, see a woman no one else does. Now, Sir, teach me my next move.”

He sighed deeply with resignation. “First, we will practice the
demi-volte.
Have you tried it on your own?” Elizabeth nodded and he led her to the center of the room, where Elizabeth practiced what she had seen him do.They stood side by side, almost as if in a dance—stepping and sweeping the sword through the air while turning. “Now, let us try opposite each other. I will come at you; I want you to block what I bring. Keep your sword horizontal, not vertical.” He executed the move in slow motion, giving her time to adjust, but she needed no pampering.
Elizabeth Bennet, were she a man, could take her toll on a dueling field.
“Excellent,” he declared after the fourth attempt.