The Passions of Dr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  “Somehow I doubt adhering to ‘standards of propriety’ is a burden gentlemen of the ton suffer from, but thank you for your insight. Your Grace,” she added after a rebellious pause.

  She smiled sweetly at the duke, his only show of emotion a fleeting press of his lips before he glanced away—after a significant visual inspection of her breasts, George noted with a flair of jealousy. Apparently even the arrogant, icy Duke of Larent, thrice married and well over forty, was not immune to Lady Ruby’s glamour. Then again, is there a man with a pulse who would be? George rather doubted it.

  “Father, gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting. I only wished to say that I am weary and wish to return to my room. I did not want you to worry. I shall have a servant escort me.”

  “Nonsense!” Yardley exclaimed. “I am sure one of these fine gentlemen would be happy to assist you to our suite.” He ignored pleas from Moir and Shapter. “Darcy, may I impose?”

  “It is definitely not an imposition,” George casually assured him. He was rather pleased to hear his voice sounded normal when his heart was pounding at the prospect of minutes alone with Ruby.

  She took his offered arm, her hand firmly pressing into his forearm, and George steered her out of the hall. Neither said a word until away from the noise and then spoke of proper, safe topics while in the busier areas. George’s fascination grew with each passing step. Ruby answered his polite questions about her travels with wit and humor. Before they had attained the second floor landing, he knew this was a woman whose personality and intellect were as formidable as the aura of seductive sensuality surrounding her. It was a lethal combination.

  They were walking down a nearly deserted corridor, their pace consciously slowed as they left the crowds behind. Ruby continued to hold on to his arm with her warm body closer to his than strictly necessary or proper. Suddenly, she stopped and turned toward him, still holding his arm, and looked at him with an arched brow and an impishly sexy smile that made his blood boil.

  “Have we exchanged pleasantries long enough, Doctor, so that we may now comfortably broach the topic that we are straining to ignore? You know I was shamelessly flirting with you from across the room, a well-orchestrated bit of coquettish maneuvering I might add, and I do hope it was not wasted.”

  “No, it was not wasted, my lady. A marvelous display of flirting it was, and I commend you on your skill. Probably the best I have ever seen in all my years of women vying for my attentions. Bravo! And as always, when a lady flirts so outrageously with me, I must return the compliment.”

  George tilted his head and lifted one brow, his smile wide and cocky as he brought her hand to his lips. His eyes met hers from beneath thick brows, his gaze a mixture of smoldering intensity and playfulness. He brushed a gentle kiss across her knuckles while his thumb caressed her fingers, ending the brief contact with a saucy wink.

  Ruby’s rich, vibrant laugh echoed against the walls and sank under his skin. “Well done, Dr. Darcy. I see I have encountered a flirting competent. You are arrogant and audacious. I like that in a man. I predict that we shall get on famously.” Then before he could reply, she resumed walking and carried on their previous conversation as if never interrupted.

  She was incredible! No other word for it. Well, there were many words George could think of to describe Lady Ruby Thomason and all of them were positive. At the door to her room, down one short corridor and around the corner from his guest chambers, she thanked him for his escort, using phrases selected for innuendo, and bid him good night while somehow managing to press her breasts against his arm. As she closed the door, she watched him through the diminishing crack, her eyes bright and promising.

  “I shall see you on the morrow,” she whispered as the door shut. “Pleasant dreams, Doctor.”

  ***

  For three days, George spent almost every waking moment with Lady Ruby on long walks, picnics, dining and dancing, horseback rides, cricket on the lawn, card games, and hours sitting on shaded chairs talking. Ruby drew men to her like a magnet and the guests were plentiful, so they were rarely alone, but when they had stolen minutes of solitude, she had shown her intense attraction to him in ways that were becoming increasingly bolder.

  Tonight he escorted her to her chambers a little before eleven o’clock, the earliest she had retired for the past two days, but when he expressed concern for her health, Ruby laughed and tossed her head. “I am robust, dear friend. Put away your physician’s cap and fret not. I merely thought a night of lying in bed sounded… gratifying and enticing.”

  Then she lifted on her toes and kissed his cheek. The gesture took him by surprise and he stood frozen as her lips caressed his skin and her breasts pressed against his chest. Mainly his paralysis was due to the tidal wave of lust that crashed within him, his muscles unable to function from lack of blood supply. She withdrew and slipped through the door, a final smoldering stare pointedly at his groin and suggestive smile rendering him unfit to go anywhere but directly to his room.

  George stood at the railing of the balcony outside his bedchamber, staring at the stars and glistening water of the Ulhas River. His eminence Peshwa Sawai Madhavrao II had arrived that day, so the celebratory atmosphere had escalated. George could hear the music and hum of voices and knew silence would not completely blanket the haveli until close to dawn. Then the residence would be calm until noon, the guests emerging from their rooms to partake of the scheduled activities or stroll about the cultured gardens, wood-shrouded pathways, or sandy banks of the river. George was certain that the weeks he planned to stay would not be enough to cover the endless options. The prospect excited him and he was in no hurry to end the adventure and return to Bombay.

  He ran a hand through his hair and lifted his face to catch the cooling breeze, hoping it would dry the sweat on his brow. Three days of amazing company and excruciating pain. Simply put, George had spent three days in a constant state of arousal, to some degree, and knew that if he did not do something about it soon, he might well burst into flames. What to do was the dilemma. Some men, those with lesser scruples, would think him mad. A woman who dripped wanton sensuality was seducing him and he hesitated. He could hear their laughter and, God help him, a large part of him joined right in. Was he mad? Yes, mad with lust and insane with a hunger never felt before. He had been feeling the yearnings before he set eyes on Ruby. However, it was one thing to seek out a willing servant or experienced woman with urges of her own. They were always easy to find, especially among the Indians, who did not hold with the same repressive sexual ideals as Westerners. Even while obsessed with Ruby, he had noted no less than a dozen women gazing at him with invitation. The maid who brought him his coffee and breakfast pastries each morning eyed him frankly, her demeanor conveying her interest as loudly as if she had stripped naked before him. He could walk out his door right now and within thirty minutes find a female ecstatic to welcome him into her bed.

  “I merely thought a night of lying in bed sounded… gratifying and enticing.”

  There was the dilemma.

  George did not want just anyone. His desire was firmly fixed on Ruby and the thought of being with anyone else was unappealing. Each night he dreamt of her, in vivid detail, waking so aroused that he was blinded by the agony of it. Taking care of matters alone provided momentary relief but made it worse, since he knew the pleasure with her would be a thousandfold greater.

  So what is the problem? At times, like now, when he burned with need, he had difficulty answering that question. Then he remembered that he was a gentleman with morals drummed into him since he was born. As annoying as it often was, George valued the standards set by the Church and society. Lady Ruby Thomason was the daughter of a peer of the realm, presumably a virgin—although it was difficult to fathom considering her exaggerated sensuality—and while clever phrases and double entendres rolled off her tongue with ease, George could not ascertain if her invitations were serious.<
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  Maintaining his resolve when he desired her as he had never desired anyone in his life was torturous enough. Compounding the issue was that he genuinely liked her. He knew he was not yet in love with her. George had never much believed in love happening swiftly. His brother and Anne were an exception, but even in their case, the love between them had grown stronger as they matured. George was not foolish enough to believe that passion was an adequate reason to marry someone or that love was certain to bloom from mutual passion, yet his attraction to her was not solely physical. He could imagine falling deeply in love with Ruby in time.

  “Bloody romantic idiot,” he muttered.

  And of course it was true. Clinical man of science he might have been, but he was also a romantic and always had been. James would say he was searching for the mate God intended. Perhaps. James was far worse than he in the hopeful romantic department, lucky for Anne! George was more pragmatic. With that pragmatism came logic. Logic gave him the ability to examine himself rationally and he knew he was lonely on top of being overwhelmed with lust. He needed to separate the two, or he would be in trouble.

  Take care of the most immediate issue with the pretty maid tomorrow, and then you will have a clear head while pursuing a relationship with Lady Ruby.

  Feeling better having reached a solution, George walked back into the room, leaving the doors and windows open to admit the cooling air through the mesh screens. One by one, he doused the lamps. The room fell into shadow with faint moonlight bathing the bed, where it sat between two of the largest windows. His restless blood thrummed with unrelieved desire that would prevent easy sleep and bring on erotic dreams. Stripping off his shirt, he crawled under the thin linen sheet wearing only the loose Indian trousers called paijamas that were incredibly comfortable and unrestrictive, the latter especially beneficial considering the state he woke up in lately.

  He was still plumping his pillows when the outer door opened, the faint squeak and beam of light from the passageway alerting him. Rapidly he twisted around, but the door had been hastily shut and only a vague shape was discernible near the door. Instantly, he knew it was Ruby. He could feel her. That fierce tingling sensation that thrillingly attacked the nerve endings of his skin whenever she looked at him flared abruptly, rendering him breathless and acutely aroused. A handful of palpitating heartbeats passed before she stepped away from the shadows, moonlight bathing her body and revealing her to George.

  Ruby wore a long robe of thick fabric belted at her slim waist and that hugged every curve of her figure. A figure that even in the half light was perfection beyond what he had envisioned. Her hair was loose, falling in a wave of glimmering charcoal clear to her bottom. She was a goddess that no mortal man could refuse.

  Coherent thought evaporated and words were pointless. Everything he had deliberated minutes before was irrelevant. If there were residual shreds of resistance—and George knew full well there weren’t—they too went up in smoke when she spoke.

  “I waited for you to come to me, George. When you didn’t, I had to come to you. I have no choice. I want you too much.”

  And then she stepped to the edge of the bed and unbelted her robe, leisurely slipping it from her slender shoulders. George watched, mesmerized as she slid it incrementally down her body, unveiling the naked flesh underneath gradually. It was the maneuver of a skilled seductress, but her eyes were hesitant and cheeks rosy. She knew her power and delighted in it, that much was obvious, and she probably wasn’t a total innocent, but the hint of bashfulness contradicted vast experience. Of course, all of this deduction was lost on George until contemplated in retrospect. In the moment, he was not thinking of anything except how fervidly he wanted to touch her!

  A second later, she was in his arms and he was rolling her under his body. Whether he had reached for her or she had launched herself into his embrace he never knew. It didn’t matter. Their hunger was mutual. She wrapped her limbs around him, pulling and kneading greedily, and met his penetrating kiss with equal fervor.

  George was drowning in sheer bliss. He poured his soul into the kiss, thrusting his tongue deeply into her mouth and drinking in her breath. He wanted to explore all of her, taste every inch of her skin, but it was impossible to pull away from her lips. Later he would take his time and delight in her, showing her that he was a masterful lover that could bring her pleasure in a multitude of ways. Later. Now was for animal lovemaking, Ruby wanting that as much as he did.

  It was she who slipped her hands underneath the waistband of the paijamas, her hands gliding firmly over the bared skin of his buttocks as she pushed the garment down as far as possible. When the fabric refused to budge further, she shifted focus, caressing as she moved her hands between their bodies to yank at the tie holding the pants in place. George groaned as he lifted his pelvis as minimally as necessary to remove the impeding garment, aiding with one hand and somehow managing to kick the paijamas away. How he accomplished that when she took advantage of his nakedness and position to grasp on to him and stroke his entire length was a mystery.

  He gasped and shuddered, control teetering on a sheer precipice. Ruby was as out of control as he.

  “Hurry! Please, George!” she moaned against his mouth. She gripped him like a vise, her legs high over his hips as she propelled him into her.

  There was wildness to their coming together. Both were frantic, starved, and demanding swift satisfaction. It defied logic, but George was not dwelling on logic. Sensation and instinct ruled. She was warm and wet and tight, surrounding him heavenly as he moved within her. Fancy love play was not needed. Simply the tempo of passionate kissing and hard loving was enough to spiral their ardor into realms higher than the clouds, leading to a shattering conclusion.

  Afterward, George held her in his arms. He did not feel a twinge of guilt, oddly enough. Perhaps it was the haziness of a stunning release leaving him too satiated to care. Doubtful. Already he was stirring, still breathless and with heart racing yet growing hard and wanting her again. Maybe it was because she had not come to him a virgin—that had been notable even in his crazed state of mind—but he knew that if she had been, the only difference is that he would have rallied and taken her slower and with tenderness.

  No. He felt no guilt because he knew it had been inevitable that she would be in his bed, be his lover, from the moment their eyes had met across the dining room. If there were consequences, it did not frighten him. Being with Ruby was right. He believed it with every cell in his body. He could not honestly utter I love you to her, nor did he expect her to say the words to him. But there was a connection between them that was enough for now. It made him blissfully happy.

  They made love twice more before the dawn. Passion raged as before, but it was governed. George fulfilled the fantasies of his dreams, tasting her and touching her until she writhed and cried for him. They dozed in between, cuddled and entwined. Softly they talked but of general topics or of how they preferred to be loved, but nothing of the larger implications until saying good-bye at his door.

  “Will I see you again?” he whispered against the sensitive skin by her ear. He did not mean in a few hours in the company of others in public.

  “Yes,” she breathed, knowing precisely what he meant. “I will return tonight, George. Tonight, the next, and the next, and any time in between if I can find a way to have you to myself.” She cupped his face, kissing until his knees weakened and he was a hairbreadth away from whisking her back to his bed.

  Then she slipped from his clutches and slithered out the door. George closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wood. Inhaling in huge gulps, he wondered how it was possible that his yearning for her could be more intense now than it had been yesterday morning.

  ***

  For three weeks, George was living in paradise on earth.

  She had come to him the next night, and the next, and the next. Each time, they greeted each other at the
door, George pacing until she appeared and rushing her inside, and instantly, they embraced and kissed. Always it was crazed with clothing dropped to the floor as they stumbled to the bed, fell in a heap of limbs, and rapidly merged as one. The third night she was later than usual, and George was frantic that something had occurred. Fear for her and insane lust combined, so that when she arrived after one in the morning, he pinned her against the door, grasped her legs, lifted her off the ground, and smoothly impaled her right there. Furiously they loved, Ruby as wild as he and refusing to accept his later apology.

  “I like wild man George,” she teased. “He excites me. And then you are mellowed and become gentle George. Both men bring me tremendous pleasure.”

  Truthfully, George liked both men too. Wild, wanton, out-of-control George was a new creation. Never, even when first experiencing sex as a youth, had he felt such depth of ardor. During his years at university, his focus had been tightly narrowed, not allowing for reckless abandon of any type. Perhaps it was time for him to relinquish his rigid discipline. George was honest enough to admit this was partially the impetus even while knowing it was not the primary reason.

  It was Ruby.

  During the day, they maintained a careful composure. Nothing changed other than a tendency to look for opportunities to steal kisses or clandestine caresses. Secluded pathways on the immense grounds and sheltered alcoves inside the enormous haveli were plentiful, and they discovered as many as possible. A linen closet at the end of the only corridor they had found that was not occupied by guests provided excellently for afternoon assignations. Three times. Once they were seated beside each other at dinner. George had taken to dining with the English guests at the high table, solely for the purpose of watching her and conversing when close enough to do so. On the night they dined side-by-side, the challenge was in how often they could touch under the linen-shrouded table, who was the boldest, and in how well they acted as if nothing was amiss. Ruby won the contest by not only calmly smiling when George lifted her skirt to her knee but by carrying on a flirtatious conversation with the gentlemen to her left while brazenly stroking George’s groin.