The Passions of Dr. Darcy

by Sharon Lathan

  She did not stop crying. Her eyes were squeezed shut and face turned into his large hand until half hidden from him. George was baffled at the degree of her despair. “I am not sure why you do not believe me, love. I assure you I mean every word. I love you and nothing on this earth will keep me from you. Tomorrow I will speak to your father—”

  “No! You can’t!”

  “I won’t tell him of what has passed between us, I promise. Unless he refuses me, that is.” His countenance changed to deathly serious. It was a cast he knew she had never before seen on his face, her eyes widening and lips parting as she stared up at him. “Ruby Thomason, I will marry you. I know you are afraid, of me or of something else I am not sure. I will erase your fears, every last one, if you will only trust me. Never will I relent or let you go, do you understand? I love you, more than life, and know you love me too. Can you look into my eyes and say that you do not love me too?”

  He held her gaze, his blue eyes dark with devotion and sincerity. Her eyes were melancholy and glassy with unshed tears but also serious with a hint of something he was not sure of. Before he could identify the myriad flickers within the shades of brown that exposed the emotions she was feeling, Ruby inhaled shakily and whispered the answer he was longing to hear.

  “Yes, I love you, George.”

  George’s heart leapt. It soared! He smiled brilliantly, kissed her soundly, and drew her body closer to his. “I knew it! You have no reason to be afraid, my dearest. I will talk to Lord Yardley and secure your hand—”

  “Not yet, please, George. Promise me you will give me time,” she interrupted, her voice urgent and pleading. “Just… be with me now, while we are here. Can you do that? Let us enjoy each other as we are before talking to my father. Everything will change then and I am not prepared to end… halt what we have. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” George frowned. She did have a point. Once the world knew of their courtship, they would be watched closer. Arrangements for a wedding took time and no longer would they enjoy such freedom. And, as much as he hated to admit it, after the horrible confrontation with Lord Powis, he was not anxious to speak to another prospective father-in-law.

  “My father has been distracted with his own entertainments while here.” She flushed, the implication obvious and considering that they were lying naked on his bed, it was humorous to see her blush at the idea of Lord Yardley engaged in like manner. “And he has also used the opportunity to conduct constant business. Every day he is with some rich Englishman or another.”

  “Yes, I have noticed that myself, with relief. He and Lords Aston and Milton, and the Duke of Larent, are quite chummy. Very well. We have a plan. What say we seal it?”

  “What did you have in mind?” she purred, stroking over the muscles of his rear.

  “Who is incorrigible now? In a minute, love. First, I have a gift for you.”

  He left the bed and walked to his trunk, kneeling as he opened the lid. A glance over his shoulder caused him to grin and raise one brow. “Are you examining my hindquarters, Lady Ruby?”

  “That as well as every other fine attribute you possess, Dr. Darcy. Are you shocked?”

  “Horrified. Now close your eyes and hold out your hand. Do it or you will not receive your gift.”

  He knelt on the bed beside her and placed the object onto her upturned palm. “You can open your eyes now. This locket was my mother’s. It wasn’t her favorite but I always loved it, hence my requesting it when she passed. Father saw no reason not to grant my wish. I have no idea what I intended to do with it, other than to simply be a memento along with a few other items that remind me of her. Now I believe it was meant for me to give to someone special as an indication of my love.”

  Ruby was shaking her head, the hand not holding the pendant pressed against her trembling lips. “George, this is too special. I cannot accept it.”

  “You must. It is a gift and a gift should never be rejected. It would tear my heart asunder,” he proclaimed dramatically. Then he laughed. “It is not a huge thing, love. I promise you, I will shower you with jewels and fine gowns galore once we are formally betrothed and then wed. This is a meager token. Do you like it?”

  “I love it! Thank you. I will treasure it all of my days!”

  She launched herself into his arms. George laughed and squeezed before gently pushing her away. “Before you sidetrack me with your irresistible self, I want to see it on. Here, lift your hair.”

  “If you had allowed me to finish braiding, it would be easier,” she teased a few minutes later.

  “If I have any say in the matter, you will never wear your hair any style but flowing freely when in our bedchamber. And it isn’t the hair but this blasted tiny clasp! How do you women do this? Ah, there. Lovely,” he sighed, his eyes roaming hungrily over her breasts with the locket lying in the valley between.

  Ruby touched his cheek with her fingertips, drawing his attention to her shining eyes. “I love it and I love you.”

  Ah! The power of those three words! George pulled her back into his arms and there were no more words for a long while.

  ***

  Two hours after the dawn, Ruby sat on the edge of the bed carefully to avoid waking her sleeping lover. Most mornings they woke together and either made love again before she departed to her room or at least shared a handful of kisses. Today she decided to let him sleep.

  He is so beautiful.

  She extended one finger, held it near his skin without touching, and traced the features of his face. She loved his face! His high forehead with the unruly locks that fell into his eyes because he never tied his ponytail tightly enough. The heavy brows a shade of chestnut and lighter than his hair but the same as the thick lashes framing his azure eyes. The mouth that was rarely not smiling with lips—the lower fuller than the upper—that were incredibly tender and velvety against her skin. His nose was perhaps a bit too large to be considered perfect, but it was straight and fit the sharp bone structure of his face.

  She stopped at his chin and avoided looking at or thinking of his body. If she did, she would change her mind and wake him for sure. George joked about his thin physique, and it was true that he was not as muscular as men who spent hours fencing or boxing, but he was far from weak or unattractive. He was lean but strong, each muscle defined and hard. His thighs were well developed, a result, he said, of being raised on horses. This she could believe, not only because of his powerfully muscled legs but because she had ridden with him a number of times and he possessed the natural grace and skill of a man whose equestrian skills transcended the standard.

  As for the other, more intimate parts of his body… Well, she was definitely satisfied with what was there!

  “You are beautiful, George Darcy,” she whispered, “and I do love you. More than you will ever know.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the stab of pain. How cruel life is. Why could I have not met him before? Everything would have been different. She shook her head and inhaled. In the privacy of her room, she would cry as she had every morning for days now once realizing the depth of her love for him. When alone, she could give in to her despair, but not here, where he might waken and see the agony dwelling so close to the surface of her skin.

  You are a coward, a voice inside her head accused.

  Yes, I am, she silently agreed. It was horrid irony that he thought her strong and independent of will. Once she had thought that of herself as well, taken great pride in her dominant nature and control of her destiny. How tragically awry her planning had gone! Everything had spiraled out of her control and she lived in a state of chaotic emotion. Joy and bliss as she had never known one hour then plummeting depression the next. Maintaining her façade was becoming increasingly difficult. If she allowed a minute crack, all would be lost, and she could not bear to live with his hatred as her last memory. Best she live with the lies she had spun and the guilt that
would torture her forever than to shatter his love for her with the truth.

  Perhaps it will be easier if his heart is broken rather than betrayed.

  She touched the pendant hanging between her breasts and so near her heart, absorbing his dear face as she removed it and opened the oval locket. Using the small pair of scissors from his desk, she lifted his hair from where it spread across the pillow, snipped a clump off the end, and secured the pieces in the locket’s hollow. For a few moments more, she tenderly caressed his silky hair, running the strands through her fingers. She loved that he never wore a wig. His hair was thick and wavy, reached to just past his shoulder blades, and was the color of roasted coffee beans with amber highlights. The urge to press her face into the mass she knew would smell woodsy with a hint of lemon was overwhelming her. But the sun was higher in the sky and she needed to prepare for another day with him.

  I must enjoy every minute we have left, my darling love. She kissed her fingertips, pressed them gently against his lips, and after slipping the pendant into her robe pocket, she left.

  She hated the walk to her room. Not for fear of discovery. The corridors were always empty. It was the distance that each step created between them. “It was a mistake to tell him I love him,” she murmured. Or was it? Her hand wrapped around the locket inside her pocket. She had not meant to confess her feelings, but the moment was too real, too raw. At least that was one truth she had told, meaning it with every ounce of her soul, and she prayed it would stay with him.

  Closing the door behind her, Ruby drew the locket from her pocket and paused in the middle of the room to caress the silver. She fancied it felt warm, as if his hair was alive, possessing a particle of his essence that was captured inside the metal. She smiled, not sure whether to laugh at her whimsy or to cry. She had no opportunity to do either.

  “Do you always return to your chambers at this hour? Does your lover exhaust you so that you sleep past the dawn, or is he keeping you up all through the night?”

  Ruby gasped and whirled about, the locket clenched in her hand and rapidly hidden in her pocket. “What are you doing here? What if you were seen?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I can sneak about as stealthily as you, my dear. I have made sure of it, remember? Servants are easy to control and money buys blindness.”

  The man rose from the chair by the door and stalked to where she stood. He wore a faint, humorless smile, and his eyes were coldly glinting as he examined her startled face. The first sign of emotion was seething lust when his gaze swept down her body. Next was a flare of his nostrils and pursed lips when he leaned in and inhaled.

  “You smell like him. Like sex and a man’s seed and sweat. Are you enjoying the lover I chose for you, my heart?”

  The endearment was emphasized but lacking warmth. Ruby resisted closing her eyes in pain with tremendous effort. Instead, she presented a serene countenance, boldly held his gaze, and delivered a slow, seductive smile.

  “He serves a purpose but cannot compare to you,” she lied. “How could he?”

  “Indeed. He could not.” He stared intently at her for a full minute, Ruby never flinching, then he shrugged. “Honestly, I could care less if you enjoy yourself. In fact, I hope you have, since I read that makes it easier to conceive. Just remember who you belong to, Duchess. Never forget that you are my wife.”

  “Have no fear, Your Grace. It is never absent from my mind. You are never absent from my mind,” she amended when he glowered at her.

  “I am pleased to hear that.”

  The Duke of Larent stepped back a pace and lifted her chin, his thumb caressing her jaw. “So beautiful,” he whispered. Suddenly his expression was as a starved wolf, complete with glowing eyes and tongue swiping over his lips. He bent and brushed his hard mouth over her neck.

  Power radiated from him, burning her skin through the robe that might as well not be on her for all the good it did against his glacial magnetism. Ruby shivered. She had almost forgotten the piercing, all-consuming potency of him. The Duke of Larent, her husband, was dangerous and cold where George Darcy, her lover by assignment and now the man who possessed her heart, was warmth and light. She knew this and hated that a part of her responded to the man she had married with the same elemental greed that had struck her months ago.

  “I tire of this game,” he grumbled hoarsely. “I want you in my bed where you belong! It has been far too long.”

  “I doubt you are lonely,” she snapped, and then clamped her lips together when he chuckled.

  “Jealous are we? Good. It is flattering, but never forget that while I grant you leave to entertain the doctor, it is for one reason only. Once accomplished, you are never to stray.”

  “Does the same standard apply to you, husband?”

  He laughed and did not reply, the answer as obvious as the question was redundant. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, the duke leaned back onto his elbows. Dressed in breeches and an open shirt, he was the epitome of virile masculinity. He was aroused, a fact unable to miss, adding to the image of prowess and capability. And in all ways but one he was.

  When a mere fourteen, Lady Ruby Thomason had accepted her unique qualities of dynamic sensuality and extreme beauty. Furthermore, she had decided to use them to snare the best husband possible and never intended to settle for less than a marquess. She told her father in no uncertain terms what she wanted, and since a daughter served one purpose, even one dearly loved as his prized jewel Ruby, there was never any argument. Years passed and candidates were eliminated one by one until Ruby laid eyes on the Duke of Larent three months ago. Although more than twice her age and rumored to be cursed after two annulled marriages and a third wife deceased, a confident Ruby did not care. He was handsome, wealthy, powerful, and endowed with the identical inner sensuality as she. Fiercely, they were drawn to each other, attraction cementing the decision. That the duke had requirements did not bother her in the slightest. At least, it hadn’t at the time.

  “We have an arrangement,” he reminded her, smoldering eyes raking her head to toe, “and I want to see it done, so we can be together as we should. What a fine Duchess of Larent you will be, Ruby!”

  For a moment there was a hint of caring in his voice. Strange how that never mattered to me before. Love, affection, and kindness were not emotions she had expected from her life. Once upon a time, power, wealth, and status had been enough. Two weeks ago that had been enough. George had changed everything.

  Wretchedness flowed through her body and she stifled a cry of anguish. Hopelessness momentarily clouded her sight. The charisma of the man before her was strong and the lure of the title “Duchess” as attractive as ever. Yet George had opened her eyes and heart to so much more. She thought she would die from the agony of loss that was beginning to consume her.

  Then the duke spoke, giving her a glimmer of hope to grasp onto in the yawning darkness stretching years ahead of her.

  “It may come as a surprise, but I hate this as much as you, Ruby. I hate that I can’t sire a child. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is? One wife can be barren, perhaps two, but three is unlikely, and I know the rumors that are bandied about. I need an heir and you will give me one. Darcy,” he spat the name, “resembles me, everyone says, so was the perfect choice. That does not mean I have to like it! No man should taste of your delights but me. No one should satisfy you but me!” His angry shout echoed and he sprang up from the bed. Clasping her upper arms in hands tense as a vise, he grated out, “All I need now is to hear that you are pregnant so we can depart this stifling place, marry publicly, and return to England. I will not keep this up any longer. Are you with child?”

  “I… I do not know. It is too soon.”

  “If the man has not gotten you pregnant yet then he must be incapable as well.”

  “It is not an exact science and my cycles are not regular. We must be sure. This is too important to rus
h and goodness knows I do not want to take dozens of men until I conceive. Be patient.”

  I cannot say good-bye yet! Please, more time to make sure I carry his baby!

  Ruby struggled to remain calm and not let the panic show. Despite the whole purpose of her seduction of George being to produce a child, she had always thought of it as for the duke. It was the bargain they had struck. She knew the Duke of Larent had lusted for her as all men did, but it was her willingness to agree to his conditions that sealed the deal. Never had she thought of the baby as something other than a necessary means to an end, an “it” that needed to be created. Suddenly her eyes were opened to the reality. She would forever possess a part of him! A part of the man she had inexplicably lost her heart to. The joy made her dizzy, giddy in fact, and she mustered all her theatrical skills to present a face of calculating indifference.

  “Does he suspect anything? Did he believe the story of your inability to have children?”

  “He did.” She glanced away, remorse enveloping her and weakening her knees. She could not allow the duke to see the pain in her eyes. She knew he would punish her or, worse yet, George in some way. That she would never allow! “He is a physician but first he is a man, and men rarely care of the consequences, do they, Your Grace?”

  He grunted. “How much longer can it possibly take? God knows you are with him enough. Oh yes,” he sneered, “I am aware that you have been with him every night. I have seen you sneak away alone during the day to return with swollen lips and glazed eyes. I see how he stares at you constantly and how you pant after him like a bitch in heat while paying me, your husband, no heed. Are you falling in love with the whelp, Ruby?”