Unleashing Mr. Darcy

by Teri Wilson

  She wondered if there were really fifty of them or if Donovan had been teasing her. She also wondered why Jenna’s bags weren’t unpacked when Patrick had meticulously emptied hers and hung all the contents with care. Perhaps that kind of royal treatment was reserved exclusively for Mr. Darcy and his date. If so, what on earth would it be like to be married to the man?

  Not that she harbored any desire to be married to him. In fact, she pitied the woman who would one day bear the name Mrs. Donovan Darcy. Whoever she might be...

  “Jenna?” Elizabeth absently toyed with a colossal gold tassel on one of the bed’s many throw pillows. “Did you know that Donovan’s parents are both dead?”

  “Yes, Henry mentioned it,” she called from the bathroom. “That’s why he’s Zara’s guardian.”

  “Zara’s guardian? Really?” Elizabeth slipped off her shoes and crawled up and onto the bed. It was so tall she almost needed a step stool.

  “Yes.” Jenna sauntered back into the room. “Since he was only twenty-one.”

  “Wow.” Elizabeth thought back to what she’d been doing at twenty-one. She’d been in college, getting her teaching degree. There’d been a fair share of parties and reckless behavior, but nothing the average twenty-one-year-old hadn’t done a time or two. Twenty-one-year-olds who weren’t instant parents, that is. “Zara couldn’t have been more than three or four years old back then.”

  “I know. Can you imagine?” Jenna pulled a pair of jeans from her suitcase and shook out the creases.

  No, Elizabeth couldn’t.

  Granted, Donovan had the financial resources to hire people to help care for Zara. But from the looks of things, he’d genuinely been the person who’d acted as her parent. The affection between them appeared real in every way.

  What kind of man takes on the role of parent to a toddler when he’s barely an adult himself?

  The answer was obvious. An honorable one.

  It was something to think about, she supposed—this new side of Donovan she’d least expected.

  “Lizzy!”

  “What?” Elizabeth’s head snapped up.

  “I’ve been calling you for a solid minute. Are you deaf?” Jenna’s head popped through the doorway to the bathroom. Elizabeth hadn’t even been aware she’d left the room again. “Get in here. There’s something you’ve got to see.”

  She slid off the bed and padded to the bathroom, where she found Jenna standing before a pearl-colored marble vanity.

  “You mentioned Donovan.” Without averting her gaze in the slightest, Jenna nodded toward the window above the sink. “Speak of the devil.”

  Elizabeth started to make a crack about him being devilish indeed, but her voice caught in her throat when she took in the view.

  Jenna’s bathroom overlooked a rectangular lap pool, surrounded by slate-colored fieldstone. Sunlight glinted off the cool blue water as a manly figure cut through it with precise, stealthy strokes of his arms. He swam with a purpose, as though some invisible force were chasing him, threatening to pull him under.

  Jenna cleared her throat and then asked, “That’s him, isn’t it? It looks as though he’s swimming off some serious tension before dinner.”

  Elizabeth forced out a slow, careful breath. She nodded just as Donovan stopped and pulled himself up and out of the pool in one rapid movement.

  Water dripped down his bare chest, which appeared every bit as well built as Elizabeth presumed it would be. More so, in fact. His biceps flexed as he ran one of his hands through his wet hair, sending water droplets in all directions.

  Elizabeth’s throat tightened, and her gaze traveled down the taut skin of his chiseled abdomen. He was a hard, toned bundle of raw masculinity. And all that water—Elizabeth was surprised she couldn’t hear it sizzling from where she stood. She didn’t dare look beyond the waistband of his black bathing suit, slung perilously low across his hips.

  Well, maybe just a bit.

  Oh, dear God.

  Jenna sighed. “That is one gorgeous wet man.”

  From head to toe, he was gloriously perfect.

  Every coherent thought Elizabeth had ever possessed seemed to fail her. Her newfound knowledge of Donovan’s softer side, combined with the wet, sensual sight before her, was far too much to absorb all at once. After standing for several long moments without saying a word, she somehow managed to collect herself.

  “I suppose there’s some truth to that,” she muttered.

  Jenna’s only reply was an all-too-knowing smile.

  * * *

  Donovan feigned interest in whatever his aunt Constance was blathering on about and nodded. He’d done a lot of nodding over the course of the past hour. He’d smiled and nodded his way through the bisque, salad and fish course. At present, a slab of lamb was resting on his plate—the main course—and he was still nodding. At what, he had no idea.

  Concentrating was a luxury beyond his capability. How could he be expected to absorb a word his aunt was saying when Elizabeth was seated eight chairs away? Elizabeth Scott, who’d made it clear she had no interest whatsoever in marrying him.

  It wasn’t some grand revelation, of course. He’d known how she felt about him all along. He should have been relieved. Donovan had no interest in marriage.

  But suddenly, the prospect of marrying Elizabeth Scott was occupying a great deal of his thoughts. And he was startled to find the idea had its appeal.

  “Donovan?” Aunt Constance frowned. If he didn’t start paying closer attention, she was likely to poke him with her steak knife. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you haven’t heard a word I’ve uttered all evening.”

  “I apologize.” Donovan tore his gaze from Elizabeth, who was tossing her head back and laughing at something Henry had said, and refocused on his aunt. “I’m a bit distracted this evening.”

  Distracted. As if one word could encapsulate his emotions.

  Distracted didn’t begin to describe what he felt. Intrigued, charmed, captivated—they were all words that worked. Along with some other choice words, like unnerved and furious.

  He clenched his fists under the tablecloth as he remembered Elizabeth glaring at him.

  Your bachelorhood is safe.

  You are the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

  What the devil did that mean?

  “Donovan, really. What has you so tied in knots tonight?” Aunt Constance narrowed her eyes, as if she were trying to peer inside his head.

  Thank God she couldn’t. The very idea of a single young lady laughing at the thought of marrying him would have been enough to send his aunt to an early grave. Every eligible woman in the United Kingdom should be delighted at the prospect of calling herself Mrs. Donovan Darcy.

  Save one, apparently.

  Donovan frowned at his aunt. “I’d prefer Miss Scott be seated next to me in the future.” His frown deepened as he realized how pathetic he sounded. What was happening to him? He was coming completely uncorked.

  Aunt Constance’s steely gaze flitted toward Elizabeth. “It’s your house, Donovan. You can sit beside whomever you like. You’ve just never been interested in such matters before, so I’ve always taken care of the mundane things like seating arrangements for you.”

  “I appreciate your help. But this is different.” She’s different.

  “Duly noted. I’ll speak with the staff and make the proper arrangements.”

  “Thank you.” Donovan ground his teeth as he watched Henry whisper something in Elizabeth’s ear.

  Then he groaned to himself as he realized he was jealous. Jealous of his closest friend, even though Henry was clearly besotted with Jenna Scott. Donovan was green-eyed simply because Henry was sitting beside the woman he loved.

  Donovan almost choked on his lamb
and reached for a water goblet.

  The woman he loved?

  Was he in love with Elizabeth?

  Surely not.

  He remembered the crushing weight of her words when she’d told him his bachelorhood was safe. It was that precise moment when reality had hit him like a ton of bricks.

  Good God. It was true. He was in love with her.

  “I suppose I should get better acquainted with Miss Scott since you seem to be so fond of her.” Aunt Constance grimaced, as if the prospect left a bad taste in her mouth. Perhaps it was merely a reaction to the lamb. Donovan thought it was a bit chewy.

  “Brilliant.” Donovan pushed the lamb around on his plate. If he was in love with Elizabeth, he supposed his aunt had a point. Although he hoped she wouldn’t frighten Elizabeth away.

  “I’ll make an effort to chat with her at the polo match tomorrow morning.” Aunt Constance gave him a wan smile.

  Donovan nodded. Again.

  He sat through the remainder of the meal in silence. Brooding, as Elizabeth and Zara would have called it. As he could have predicted, his sister watched him from across the table during the dessert course, eyeing him with obvious curiosity.

  He was fine. He wasn’t brooding. He was simply thinking.

  The way he saw it, he had two choices.

  The first was by far the more sensible option—he could wait for his feelings to pass. Perhaps he was merely infatuated. Or maybe he was all keyed up because Elizabeth was such a challenge. Would he still fancy himself in love if she didn’t find him so abominable?

  Yes. His temples throbbed. Yes, I actually would.

  Which brought him to the second option. When he’d first asked Elizabeth to accompany him to Chadwicke, her answer had been an unequivocal no. Yet here she was. Sitting at his dining table, with the light from the gilded candelabras casting sensual shadows across the porcelain column of her neck. God, how he longed to sweep her up and plant a kiss right there where her neck curved into her shoulder. He knew just how sweet that spot tasted.

  He cleared his throat and directed his thoughts back to the problem at hand. If he’d managed to get Elizabeth to agree to a weekend at Chadwicke, how much more difficult would it be to persuade her to marry him?

  The very idea gave him a headache. He ought to consider an easier prospect. Like climbing Mount Everest. Blindfolded.

  There was only one problem—he didn’t want to climb Everest. He wanted Elizabeth.

  The shuffle of diners pushing away from the table told him dinner was over. At last.

  Donovan rose from his seat and headed toward her. She stood beside the table with her chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders and Henry and Jenna happily glued to her side.

  Henry offered Donovan a wide smile as he approached. “Donovan, why have you been hiding Elizabeth? She’s delightful.”

  Donovan slipped his hand around Elizabeth’s waist. A very slight, but very real, pang of worry hit him when he realized that one simple gesture caused the pieces of his world to slip back into place. He was in deep. Deeper than he’d ever been before.

  It was not a position he reveled in.

  So he glanced at Elizabeth and pretended to be taken aback. “Elizabeth? Delightful? Really?”

  “I can be delightful when I try,” she responded with a saccharine smile.

  And then she ground the heel of her stiletto onto the toe of his shoe.

  Donovan refused to wince. Instead, he tightened his grip on her waist. “As far as hiding her, I’ve done no such thing. She’s elusive.”

  “Elusive?” Henry raised his brows.

  “Very much so. It’s a right miracle she’s standing here beside me.”

  “He exaggerates.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

  Donovan wished it was an exaggeration. “Do I? Because I seem to recall a time not long ago when you said you despised the very sight of me. In fact, I believe it was this morning on the ride here.”

  “Lizzy, really.” Jenna shook her head.

  By all appearances, Henry was too shocked to laugh. His mouth dropped open for a few beats before he finally said, “Well, mate. That must have been a blow to the ego. A right switch from all the women throwing themselves at your feet.”

  “Throwing themselves at your feet?” Elizabeth turned to face him, her expression bemused.

  Donovan let his fingertips crawl a little lower, until they rested on the curve of her hip. “Now Henry is the one exaggerating.”

  “Not really, mate.”

  “This certainly sounds interesting,” Jenna said.

  “Henry,” Donovan said, his gaze never leaving Elizabeth. “I don’t think the lady is interested in hearing stories about women allegedly throwing themselves at me.”

  “On the contrary. Do tell, Henry.” She laughed and leaned into him. Donovan was relieved to see her enjoying herself, even if it was at his expense.

  “I’m afraid I can’t.” Henry shook his head with great solemnity.

  “No?” Elizabeth stuck her plump bottom lip out in a mock pout. It took every ounce of self-control Donovan possessed not to bite it right then and there.

  He cleared this throat in an effort to get his wits about him. His bedroom was quite a distance away. “It’s good to see you have a healthy respect for our friendship, Henry.”

  “It has nothing to do with our friendship and everything to do with the fact that I’ll be on the polo field with you in the morning, and I don’t fancy the idea of getting struck in the head with your mallet.” Henry winked at Elizabeth, then glanced at his watch. “Donovan, isn’t it time for a brandy? Don’t tell me you’re going to slip away with the lovely Elizabeth and abandon our after-dinner tradition.”

  Actually, that’s exactly what I had in mind.

  “You two go ahead. Jenna and I can keep ourselves entertained.” Elizabeth slipped from his grasp, prompting Donovan to give serious thought to the whole mallet scenario.

  “Join us,” he urged.

  “No, really. I wouldn’t want to spoil your tradition. I don’t want to be one of those clingy women who comes between mates.”

  Elizabeth...clingy? The idea was laughable. So preposterous, in fact, that it in no way made Donovan feel like laughing.

  “Besides, we have things to discuss, don’t we, Jenna?” Elizabeth’s eyes blazed with secrets.

  “Oh, yes.” Jenna nodded, and her gaze slid to the painted portrait of Donovan hanging over the fireplace at the far end of the dining room.

  Me. They’re going to talk about me.

  Donovan wasn’t sure whether this was good or bad. “I see. You two have secret affairs to discuss. Go easy on me.”

  He winked at Elizabeth, fully expecting a diatribe in return about how self-centered he must be to assume they would be talking about him.

  “We can all plague and punish one another.” Was it Donovan’s imagination, or was that comment infused with less acrimony than he expected? “You and Henry enjoy your brandy.”

  Donovan slipped his fingers through hers, but she’d already started backing away.

  “Good night, Donovan,” she said, escaping before he could kiss her.

  He watched her as she walked away. For as long as Chadwicke had stood, he’d never seen anyone or anything so utterly inviting between the walls of his dining room.

  “Good night,” he murmured, a heartbeat too late.

  20

  “You realize we’re standing in a Ralph Lauren ad right now, right?” Elizabeth took in the blanket of green grass before her, almost not believing what she was seeing. A polo field. Donovan’s house had a polo field.

  Beside her, Jenna sipped a mimosa and smiled as though this were any ordinary Saturday morning. She didn’t look a bit intimidated.

  How do
es she do it? Elizabeth mused.

  “Try to enjoy yourself, Lizzy. Haven’t you ever seen a polo match before? All that athleticism, all those powerful muscles...and I’m not even talking about the horses. I wonder if Donovan and Henry will wear those sexy white pants like Prince Harry does when he plays.”

  Elizabeth’s imagination snagged on the idea of the white pants for a beat, before coming back to her senses. “When have you ever seen a polo match?”

  “I haven’t exactly.” Jenna shrugged. “But I’ve seen photos. You know...of the royal family, and then there are the perfume ads...Polo, Polo Sport....”

  Elizabeth snorted. “I rest my case.”

  “Are you ladies enjoying yourselves yet?” Henry poked his head between the two of them.

  Jenna swiveled to face him. A coquettish grin came to her lips. “Of course we are.”

  “Is that true?” asked Donovan as he stepped up behind Henry, his piercing gaze glued to Elizabeth.

  No, of course she wasn’t having fun. This was torture.

  She opened her mouth, prepared to tell him just that, but for some odd reason the words wouldn’t come. “Um...”

  Donovan cocked his head and eyed her with intense curiosity.

  Jenna answered for her. “Of course it’s true. Everything’s lovely, Donovan. Simply lovely.”

  Donovan’s eyes narrowed, but before he could cast any doubt on Jenna’s reassurances, his aunt Constance waved and called out to them.

  “Donovan, I’m glad you’re still here,” she said as she made her way toward their little circle.

  “Only for a moment, Aunt Constance. Henry and I need to go check on the horses and make sure everything is in order for the match.” Donovan’s spine stiffened.

  Elizabeth thought once again what a shame it was that Donovan’s aunt was so formal with him. No wonder he had such a distant, proper air about him all the time.

  Maybe he wasn’t quite as arrogant as she’d first thought.

  Elizabeth blinked. Where had that thought come from? Of course Donovan was arrogant. He was the most prideful man she’d ever met.

  “Have you made arrangements for the trophy presentation? Helena has volunteered to do the honors.” Aunt Constance waved at Helena Robson, walking toward them with a mimosa in each hand.