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,
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
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
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
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.
CHAPTER 5
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
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.
Vixen,
Will you come to the house tomorrow? I will be waiting, counting the moments.
D.
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.
“A new move, please,” she begged excitedly. “I love this; it is such freedom!”
“Whatever you wish,Vixen.” Darcy stepped to the side again. Raising his right hand above his head, he arched the sword in a sweeping loop, turning it under and lunging forward. “This is called an envelopment. Follow me.” He stayed next to her and repeated the move several times before she copied it exactly; then he took a place in front of her, switching the sword to his left hand, so he could mirror her movement.”
“You can use both hands equally well,” she mused in surprise. “That is unusual.”
“Yet one more thing about me that makes me different from other men,” he grumbled.
Elizabeth laughed.“It is a mark of distinction, Sir.”
Darcy laughed along with her. “Let me see you complete the fence.” He took up a position along the wall to allow her room to execute the form. Elizabeth moved with perfect symmetry, using her free arm for balance, looking as if she partnered the sword in some intricate dance step.
“What do you find so amusing, Mr. Darcy?” Her words brought him out of his trance.
He shook his head. “Nothing, Vixen.” He turned to lay his sword on the table. “You learn quickly. Soon, my services will be unneeded.”
“Your services—not yourself.”
Darcy touched her cheek with his fingertips.“I brought a light meal.Will you join me?” He reached for the basket along the wall.
Elizabeth nodded, took the blanket he offered, and spread it on the floor. She laid the rapier to the side before helping him remove the food from the basket. “Cheese, hard bread, fruit, wine, and apple tarts. It is a picnic in November. How adventurous!”
“You mean scandalous.” He sat on the blanket and pulled her in front of him, spooning her body with his, allowing his arm to drape over her shoulder. Elizabeth broke off some of the bread and cheese, putting it on a plate they could share.Then she turned and
“Georgiana would like anyone with whom I choose to spend my time; she trusts my judgment. But I believe she would like you independent of my feelings. I wish she had a bit more of your spirit; she is an intelligent girl, yet she lacks sensibility—too naïve—too trusting.”
“Then you think I am jaded?” she asked mockingly.
He kissed the nape of Elizabeth’s neck and behind her ear, feeling the beat of her heart at the base of her neck.“Do not put words in my mouth, my Lady.”
Since they had discovered their need for each other, Darcy had gave given her a world she would never know again. She turned to face him.“Another memorable day.”
“It is not over, Elizabeth.” He leaned her back onto the blanket, looming over her. “I cannot send you home without kissing your lips properly.” He held himself tantalizingly above her, his words a whisper on her cheek.Then he lowered his whole body over hers, pressing his mouth to her own. His tongue parted her lips, and Darcy was lost to the moment. His hands caressed her shoulders, and he rolled with her, positioning her to lie on top of him. Her heat burned his very soul. His hands moved up and down her back. The blood coursed through him—pounding into his senses. Finally, she broke the kiss, burying her head into the side of his neck. Breathing heavily, Darcy rasped her name,“Elizabeth!”
“We cannot let this happen, Fitzwilliam.” She spoke the words while remaining wrapped in his embrace.
Darcy could feel his heart thunder in his chest. He turned to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.“It will not.You must forgive me, Elizabeth. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe this to be real.” He spoke to the ceiling, unable to turn his head and see the disapproval on her face.
Although she knew they must stop, part of her wanted Darcy to
Ahh! She screamed out in pain, cupping the palm of one hand in the other. Blood flowed from a cut across her palm, the result of her hand coming down on the edge of the rapier she had foolishly laid on the floor.
Although not bleeding profusely, the wound lay open and fresh. Darcy scrambled to his knees, and without thinking, he pulled her hand to his mouth and sucked the blood away. It was an innocent action. Yet the moment the blood touched his lips, something inside him changed. He shuddered visibly, and his eyes closed, as if savoring a fine wine. He sucked again, and his eyes gla
zed over, an icy coldness, the color of snow crystals floating through the air.
Elizabeth watched in horror. “Fitzwilliam!” she cried out in fear, trying to dislodge her hand from his mouth, but he held her fast, his tongue washing over the gap in her skin.“Fitzwilliam!” she demanded, pulling harder, but he kept hold of her. Finally, in desperation, she grabbed the sword and swung the butt of the handle against his face, cutting a gash into his cheek.
Darcy fell back, his fingers releasing her. Elizabeth sprang to her feet, the sword grasped tightly in her hand.Anger filled her, but the remorse she saw spreading across his face made her want to comfort him all the same.
Darcy covered his eyes and face with his forearm. A moan of disgust burst from his lips. He never looked at her, afraid to witness the disdain in her eyes.“Now,” he said, his lips trembling, “now, you see the animal I am.” The hollowness in his voice was nearly as frightening as his actions. “I can never live a normal life.” He lowered his arm to his side. He still lay flat on his back while she remained poised with the sword above him. “Put the sword away, Elizabeth, and tend to your wound. I will injure you no more.” He licked his lips, bringing moisture back to them, but still tasting her lifeline there, making her a part of him.“Leave, Elizabeth.We must not meet again; it is too dangerous.”
Tears ran down her cheeks. “I will not leave you, Fitzwilliam,”
Unable to trust himself any longer, Darcy grabbed her wrist, pulling them both to their feet. “Bloody hell, Elizabeth! I cannot do this! I will kill myself rather than hurt you!” He grabbed her cloak and violently shoved it around her shoulders. “Do not return.” He placed his handkerchief into the palm of her hand to stop the bleeding. Then he carried her to the back door. “It ends today; I cannot have the life we created here! Fate dealt me a different hand, and I must play those cards.” Bitterness laced his words.
Elizabeth fought him every step of the way, beating her hands forcefully against his chest. “No!” she screamed repeatedly, but when he tugged the door open with one hand and pushed her out the entrance with the other, she quit fighting. Her sudden stillness forced him to react, and Darcy froze. No trace of his temptress remained. Instead, she stood there miserably, with tears dangling from her thick lashes. They stood in a terrible tableau, muscles flexed for action. Her words were barely audible, but he heard them nonetheless. “I do not want to leave you, Fitzwilliam. You need me—whether you like it or not—you need me.”
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