Unleashing Mr. Darcy

by Teri Wilson

  Wasn’t that exactly the sort of thing people said when they were, in fact, sleeping with each other?

  But she and Donovan weren’t sleeping together.

  Yet.

  The word dangled in her thoughts, taunting her.

  The only indication Helena had even heard her pitiful disavowal was the stiffening of her spine before she tossed her head, nearly giving Elizabeth a mouthful of bleached-blond hair.

  “Can I have all the exhibitors go around together, please?”

  Thank God. This is almost over.

  Elizabeth nearly plowed into Helena in her haste to lead Bliss around the ring and toward the exit. As Donovan’s gaze roamed over the competition, she tried to remind herself he was judging the dogs, not the handlers. Still, her cheeks burned with humiliation. Being in Donovan’s ring next to Helena felt just about as demeaning as if they’d been wrestling for his attention in a tub full of Jell-O.

  “You’ll be our Winner.” Donovan pointed to one of the handlers behind Elizabeth. Someone he wasn’t currently sleeping with, planning to sleep with or engaged to marry. Or so Elizabeth presumed. “Everyone please stay as you are for final ranking.”

  Elizabeth lined up behind Helena along the white lattice ring gate and chastised herself for still hoping Bliss would be ranked higher than Helena’s dog. What was wrong with her?

  Bring on the cherry Jell-O.

  “Miss Robson.” Donovan approached Helena, and Elizabeth’s heart sank to her ballet flats. “Your dog is excused. As the dog’s breeder, I cannot evaluate it. I’m withholding your ribbon this afternoon. You may leave the ring.”

  Elizabeth had heard rumors about judges withholding ribbons, but she’d never actually seen it happen. The collective gasp that rose up from the crowd assembled ringside told her she wasn’t the only one.

  But the loudest gasp of all came from Helena Robson herself.

  Elizabeth was too shocked to do or say anything. She simply stood quietly, watching the whole episode transpire until Donovan was suddenly beside her instead of Helena.

  “Miss Scott,” he said with a smile. “You’ll be my Reserve Winner today.”

  Reserve Winner.

  Runner-up, just like at the show in New Jersey. Only this time she was in England, the birthplace of her breed.

  A lump lodged in her throat. She swallowed around it as Donovan slipped the Reserve Winner’s sash over her head and handed her a rather fancy red-and-white-satin rosette. For one brief, shiny moment Elizabeth felt like a beauty queen. Only better, really, because her dog was the beauty. Her sweet, furry best friend.

  It wasn’t until she exited the ring that Elizabeth became aware of all the stares and whispers. She may have never caught their meaning if she hadn’t heard the words Daily Mail tossed about among the scattered murmurings.

  “Congratulations, dear.” Sue wrapped her in a tight hug. “Reserve Winner. You should be so proud of little Bliss.”

  “I am. Very much so.” Elizabeth looked over Sue’s shoulder for Jenna and spotted her a few yards away, clearly enraptured by something Henry Robson was saying.

  Helena was nowhere to be seen, and for that Elizabeth was grateful. But as other exhibitors continued to gape at her and aim skeptical glances at her Reserve Winner sash, she began to feel less and less like an unidentified female companion. It was becoming altogether clear that her identity was by no means a secret. At least among the dog-show circuit.

  “Are you all right, dear?” Sue asked and rested the back of her hand on Elizabeth’s forehead. “You look rather flushed all of a sudden.”

  “I think...” What did she think?

  I think people are staring.

  I think everyone in this tent reads the Daily Mail.

  “I think I need some air.” She inhaled a lungful of oxygen. Why was it so difficult to breathe?

  “It’s rather chaotic in here. We have plenty of time before the Border terriers show. Why don’t you let me watch Bliss, and you can go outside and take a minute to catch your breath?” Sue took Bliss’s lead from Elizabeth’s hand. “It’s been an awfully eventful day already, has it not?”

  An understatement, to be sure.

  “Thank you.” Elizabeth blew Bliss a congratulatory kiss and wound her way through the crowd.

  Her breath was coming in gasps now, and she was starting to feel a little sick to her stomach. So she slipped inside the smaller white tent marked Hospitality and sent up a prayer of thanks when she found it empty inside.

  She sagged against the wall of the tent, closed her eyes and counted backward from ten.

  Ten, nine, eight...

  “You’re only being paranoid,” she whispered to herself.

  Seven, six, five...

  “Of course no one recognizes you from the picture in the paper.”

  Four, three, two...

  “And they certainly don’t think that’s why Donovan awarded Bliss Reserve Winner.”

  “Oh, I’m fairly certain that’s exactly what they think,” another voice whispered, mere inches from her ear.

  Her eyes flew open.

  “Donovan.” And just like that, her breathing grew erratic again, all the counting and deep yoga inhalations rendered a waste. “What are you doing here?”

  “I followed you.” He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I saw you run in here looking all tragic, and decided a break from judging was required.”

  She cast a wistful glance at her pretty sash. “So it’s true? You awarded Bliss Reserve Winner because we...because you...”

  “Because I want to do this?” His gaze dropped to her waist, and his hands soon followed suit, then slid around to cup her bottom.

  Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat as he pulled her hips toward him, so their bodies were pressed firmly against one another. He was warm. Warm, hard and so very, very inviting. A soft sigh escaped her lips.

  “That sound.” Donovan’s mouth hitched into an easy smile. “So sexy.”

  She struggled to keep her voice even. “But is it true?”

  “Of course it’s not true. If anything, I went out of my way not to show you favoritism out there.” He cocked his head. “But as you well know, people will believe some foolish things.”

  Elizabeth could feel his heart beating against her own, every bit as frantic as hers. “Like that you’re engaged to Helena?”

  He leaned his forehead against hers, then his nose, moving slowly until his lips were barely a breath away. God, if he didn’t kiss her soon she would self-combust. “Absurd, right? Especially when just last week I was sleeping with my sister.”

  He raised his brows, no doubt expecting her to laugh. Or become angry with him for bringing up the Zara thing yet again.

  She did neither of these things.

  She ran her hands up his chest, over those wide, imposing shoulders, and fixed them around his neck. “Would you please shut up and kiss me now?”

  “It would be my pleasure, Miss Scott.”

  14

  Elizabeth had never been in a hospitality tent before. She hadn’t expected it to be quite so...

  ...hospitable.

  Donovan kissed her with such force that she soon forgot whatever it was she’d been saying. She lost herself in the feel of him, strong, manly, commanding, and the taste of him—oh, so delectable. A thrill of pleasure coursed through her at the sureness of his lips and the insistence of his hands as he gripped her hips and pushed her gently against the wall of the tent. It was surprisingly sturdy.

  Who knew when she first walked inside that things would end up like this?

  Elizabeth slipped her hands up the back of his jacket and couldn’t stop herself from releasing a long, satisfied sigh as she explored the muscles straining beneath his dres
s shirt. Donovan chuckled under his breath and dropped his lips to the neckline of her dress, pressing gentle kisses along the top of her breasts.

  “I’m assuming this means you aren’t engaged to be married.” It took all of Elizabeth’s concentration to get the words out. Donovan’s tongue dancing across her skin was rapidly reducing her to a quivering mess.

  He looked up, his eyes so darkened with desire they were nearly black. “Helena is delusional. Do I seem at all interested in her?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, you don’t.” Her voice had dissolved into a breathy whisper.

  His well-formed mouth beckoned to her. She reached up and took a little nip at his bottom lip, which drew a serious groan from him.

  “Are we really making out in the hospitality tent?” she murmured as he dropped his lips to the curve of her throat. Elizabeth was sure he could feel the boom of her pulse, probably even see it. It was all she could hear. Her blood thundered in her ears, drowning out even the sound of their breath, growing faster and more frantic.

  “It looks that way, except in Britain we’d probably call it snogging.” Donovan pulled away slightly, just enough for her to see his face.

  His lips—God, those lips!—curved into a naughty smile and something blossomed inside her. Something more than attraction. And it scared the life out of her.

  She took a deep, slow inhale and tried to steady herself. This was Donovan Darcy. Sure, he was pretty to look at it. Pretty perfect, actually. And yes, he could be rather gentlemanly at times...when he wasn’t pounding people into the ground with that glare of his.

  But he was the last man on earth Elizabeth wanted to have feelings for. So she wouldn’t. Plain and simple.

  The last thing Donovan Darcy appeared to need was yet another woman throwing herself at him. “And here I spent all that time trying to convince Helena we don’t have an intimate relationship. What a waste.”

  Donovan’s thumb—currently brushing a slow, tantalizing trail along her bottom lip—stopped abruptly.

  He aimed a cautious look at her. “A waste indeed. Although why she would believe such a thing is beyond me. Us? In an intimate relationship?”

  Elizabeth blinked up at him. “I know. Crazy, right? I mean, it’s almost laughable.”

  Except neither one of them was laughing.

  Donovan took his hands off her, straightened and adjusted his tie. The darkening of his eyes took a more sinister turn, less desirous and more provoked.

  Still, Elizabeth’s skin all but burned under the scrutiny of his gaze. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. Donovan Darcy wasn’t the sort of man to be trifled with. But they were just having fun, right? He didn’t seriously think they could embark on any sort of relationship, did he?

  “It would never work. We would end up killing each other,” she said.

  Elizabeth struggled to catch her breath. Why was she always growing breathless around him? It was beginning to grate on her nerves.

  “You’re right. It’s no secret I find you maddening a great majority of the time.” He gave his chin a haughty jerk upward, but his gaze flitted ever so briefly to her cleavage.

  To her horror, Elizabeth shuddered. Were her breasts actually heaving? Oh, God, no. “And, as you’re well aware, I despise you.”

  “Oh, I’m aware.” He took a step closer to her once more.

  Elizabeth had to remind herself to breathe as he gave the fluttery sleeve of her dress a gentle tug and pressed a searing-hot kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder. His lips traveled up the side of her neck, nipping and taunting her. Elizabeth was barely conscious of the weight of his body against hers. Every firm, hard inch of it.

  She had a mind to push him away. Or she would have if she’d been capable of forming a coherent thought. As it was, all she could manage to do was whisper, “Everyone in London now knows me as the girl from Donovan Darcy’s lap. I really do hate you.”

  She wasn’t altogether sure it was true. Granted, he was an arrogant, haughty aristocrat, but he was also growing on her in some perverse way. Even though on some level she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing, toying with her like this. Was he slumming? Getting his kicks from fooling around with the wrong sort of girl? The idea filled her with equal parts shame and fury. But what she really and truly hated was the effect he had on her. One look of those brooding eyes sent her heart racing. And with a single kiss, he practically had her on her knees begging for more. It was beyond humiliating. And this time she didn’t have the luxury of blaming it on the champagne.

  “I know,” he murmured, cupping her breast through her dress. “You find me disgusting, don’t you? I can tell by the way you tremble under my touch.”

  The man was infuriating.

  Or so Elizabeth reminded herself as her hands somehow landed on his backside, pressing him more firmly against her. “You’re not quite as good as you think you are.”

  “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” He leaned in as if to kiss her.

  And Elizabeth was ready for it. So ready. She licked her lips and parted them for him. But just as his mouth was within a hairbreadth from closing in on hers, Donovan paused.

  Every nerve ending in Elizabeth’s body screamed in protest, and she glanced up at him with pleading eyes. She was too close to the edge of desire to remind him again how much she loathed him.

  Donovan’s gaze locked with hers, and she instantly felt more exposed than if they’d been undressed and tangled in sheets. “Come away with me next weekend.”

  Elizabeth blinked. She was having enough trouble focusing with Donovan’s body pushed up against hers, but this sudden change in subject threw her completely. “Come away with you?”

  “Yes.” Donovan nodded, as if the matter was already settled. “To Chadwicke. It’s Bonfire Weekend. London will be ablaze with fireworks, and it upsets the dogs. So I retreat to the country and host an annual house party every year. Come with me.”

  Elizabeth struggled to take it all in. She wasn’t even altogether sure what Bonfire Weekend was, other than that it had something to do with someone named Guy Fawkes, but the reason for the holiday was the least of her concerns.

  “You want me to go with you to—” she struggled to force the final word out “—Chadwicke?”

  Was he joking?

  He certainly seemed serious as his lips finally landed on hers, seeking that kiss she’d so wanted only seconds before. Elizabeth’s eyes drifted closed, and for the all-too-brief span of Donovan’s bone-melting kiss, she very nearly forgot his ridiculous proposition.

  “So?” he said, resting his forehead against hers. He seemed cool as a cucumber. As usual.

  Was it asking too much for him to look just a fraction as flustered as she felt inside?

  “So what?” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

  The sleeve of her dress slid farther down, just a fraction, but enough to expose the very edge of the cup of her bra. Donovan glanced at her skin peeking through the strip of lace, and the set of his jaw hardened.

  He slid her sleeve back in place on her shoulder. “You know what.”

  “Donovan, I can’t go to Chadwicke with you. You know I can’t.”

  He backed away from her, his gaze thunderous. “I know nothing of the sort.”

  Had he lost his mind? “You don’t want me there, among your friends and family.”

  She wouldn’t fit in there any more than she’d fit in at the Barclay School. She was through fooling herself. The thought of accompanying him to his fancy-schmancy estate and making small talk with his wealthy friends and—God forbid—meeting his blue-blooded family was horrifying.

  “I do. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have issued the invitation.”

  “I’m not sure I want my photo in the Daily Mail again.” Elizabeth lifted her chin rebelliously.

>   She could see it now—pictures of her at Chadwicke, with all those aristocrats. What would the caption say this time?

  One of these things is not like the other....

  “There won’t be any photographers there.” The corner of Donovan’s mouth lifted in unspoken challenge. “It’s my house, remember?”

  She threw up her hands. “You find me maddening, and I hate you. What would we do together all weekend?”

  He lifted a single, suggestive eyebrow. “I’m sure we’d come up with something.”

  So this was only about sex? Of course. She really should have known.

  Elizabeth’s blood boiled with indignation, although she wasn’t exactly sure why. She planted the palms of her hands on his impressive chest and pushed. Hard.

  He stumbled backward, but quickly gained his footing. Naturally. It seemed Donovan Darcy never lost control for long. He angled his head toward her. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  Elizabeth slipped out from between him and the wall of the tent. She needed space. She needed air. She needed so many things. “No.”

  He appraised her with an icy glare. “No?”

  “That’s my answer. No.” She smoothed down the front of her dress. Was it her imagination, or did it look all crumpled now?

  Great. Just what she needed—to do the walk of shame at a dog show.

  Donovan’s gaze narrowed, and his perfect nostrils flared. For a flash that Elizabeth couldn’t help but enjoy, he looked like an angry bull. Then he pulled himself together. “If you’re worried about work, you can bring the Border terriers with you. And of course you’ll bring Bliss. Hell, you can bring the Barrows along, too. And Jenna.”

  He mumbled something else under his breath. Something that sounded suspiciously like so long as you’re there.

  But that couldn’t have been it. She was hearing things. Donovan would never say something so...so sweet.

  Would he?

  “No,” she said again, half shouting this time, before she changed her mind.

  Remember what happened...just when you thought you belonged, all of it was swept out from under your feet. Don’t make that mistake again.