Second Opinions: A Lizzy and Dr. Darcy Story (Meryton Medical Romances Book 2)

by Ruby Cruz

  Determined not to pathetically pine (but knowing I was losing the battle), after dinner I retreated to my study nook and ploughed through another module of advanced pharmacology. My disappointed excitement gave me enough energy to start another module, so when I heard the door slam distantly, my mind was squarely on beta blockers and starting dosages for carvedilol.

  I heard Mrs. Pratchett greet Darcy, and when I emerged into the foyer, it was as if he had sensed me. His body tensed and he turned, his eyes intense. Mrs. Pratchett sensed the change in the air and excused herself, a knowing smile on her face as he crossed the foyer to me. His lips crushed mine in a kiss that seared me, branding me. He devoured me as if starving. In a sense, we both were.

  He held no pretense as he scooped me into his arms and carried me upstairs, stumbling slightly as he tried to kiss me while doing so. “Watch your step,” I warned with a laugh, “or we’ll both go down.” He ignored me and made his way up the steps and to the bedroom.

  Once inside, he set me down on the bed, his hands shifting to capture the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head in one swift movement.

  He paused a moment to regard me with hungry eyes. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered reverently, his hand reaching up to caress my shoulder. His lips followed his hand, tracing my shoulder, then my collarbone, then my neck. Before, I’d thought he was devouring me; now, it was like being savored, inch by inch.

  Sensation filled me, flooding my brain with need and desire. Only he’d been able to awaken in me that elusive mixture of lust and love. I’d come close before, but only Darcy had been the one who could instill both passion and the want for more. For forever.

  He’d touched me many times before tonight, but somehow, this time was different. The first time we’d made love so many months ago, he’d treated me like a precious jewel, something to be revered and cherished. Today, there was that similar feeling of intensity, of wanting to draw out our coupling until the end of time. Even though I wanted him more than I thought possible, I followed his lead, slowed my touch to a languorous pace, allowed myself to pause and savor this precious time.

  I never wanted this to end. I never wanted to be apart from him, not when we were this perfect together, this complete. When we were apart, it was like missing a piece of myself, the more vital part, and without it, I was empty, merely a shell. He filled me, both physically and emotionally. He completed me, body and soul.

  With Darcy, I was alive, I was better. He made me a better person. He was the best part of me.

  He moved in rhythm with my heart, steady at first, then faster, the matching beat soon pounding, increasing in intensity and rate, the sensations building, then cresting until we were both flying over the precipice and soaring into ecstasy.

  ~

  “I missed you,” he told me as he nuzzled my ear, our breaths and hearts finally beginning to quiet.

  “I could tell.” I couldn’t quite keep the smile from my voice, and he lifted his head to face me. “I think Mrs. Pratchett could tell also.”

  He actually blushed, his handsome face deepening in color, but he laughed. “I’ll have to apologize to her.”

  “I think she quite understands. I missed you, too.” I sighed and settled my head onto his chest. I could hear his heart, the beat still steadying and slowing. “How are we going to do this?”

  “There are many ways. I think I just showed you one.”

  That elicited a chuckle from me. “You know what I mean. Even though you’re gone only a week at a time, I feel like dying every time you leave.”

  “I know. I feel the same.”

  “And it’s not the same when you’re on call. When you’re on call I can at least see you for a few minutes. This…this is torture.”

  “I know. I’m thinking we can’t wait much longer before we announce our engagement to my aunt.”

  Something within me lifted. “When? How?”

  “Next weekend? You can meet me in New York and we can tell her together. Negotiations are going well in San Francisco, and it’s been over a month since her father died. I think it’s time.”

  “Why do I feel like we’re teenagers announcing an elopement?”

  “I know she’s not the easiest woman to please or even to get along with…”

  “It’s fine. I just…” I remembered the conversation I’d overheard in the Hamptons. “She doesn’t approve of your relationship with me. I doubt she’s going to approve of us getting married.”

  “She is my aunt, but she’s not my keeper. Whether she approves or not is her right, but I’m a grown man and I make my own choices. There’s little she can do to keep me from you now that I have you.”

  “You forget, I’m the one who proposed to you. I believe I’m the one who has you.”

  “Semantics. You were mine since that first day you called me out for not answering your pages.”

  “Wasn’t that the same day you called me ‘bare faced and bony?’”

  “You were the first woman to challenge me in that way. I had to retaliate. And I did so poorly, I must admit. Especially since I can’t exactly call you bony now. Mrs. Pratchett is doing her job well.”

  “Are you calling me fat?”

  “No. You’re perfect.” He kissed me and settled his hand near my breast. “I do have a weakness for curvy women.”

  “You’re not helping yourself,” I muttered as Caroline Bingley flashed through my mind.

  “Right now, there’s only one woman I want and she’s right here, curvy or not, I’ll take her however I can have her.” He shifted his body next to me so I was flush against him. “And I plan on having her many times tonight.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Defensive Maneuvers

  Next weekend. What was Darcy planning? He was never transparent about these types of things. Did he want a fancy dinner at a nice restaurant, neutral ground to make the announcement? Or her home in the Dakota, some place familiar where she could be relaxed when we threw the bombshell? I was hoping for neutral ground, that way we could leave of our own accord if need be and not be kicked out of her home like chattel if she so deemed.

  I had little time to contemplate this. My classes were in full swing and my earlier largesse had put me behind in my modules, or at least at a place where I wasn’t as ahead as I would’ve liked. I had one week until midterms and used every opportunity to study.

  That’s what I was doing when the doorbell rang and Mrs. Pratchett’s voice answering. The voice at the door sounded slightly familiar, but I was too much in the study zone to register it. A moment later, her voice sounded in the intercom. “Lizzy, could you please come to the foyer?”

  Huh. Must have been someone she didn’t know or recognize.

  I extracted myself from the study cocoon I’d built on the couch and padded down the hallway towards the front of the house. I was dressed in my usual study uniform of T-shirt and yoga pants and when I saw who was at the door, my stomach dropped to my knees.

  Chase Hammond was the last person I’d expected to show up at Meryton. What the hell was he doing here? The words nearly flew out of my mouth, but I checked them. “Hey, Chase. What brings you to Meryton?” I adopted a neutral tone, but Mrs. Pratchett’s face mirrored the distrust I felt inside. I made introductions with the housekeeper whose expression didn’t change even after my explanation. Did she know something I didn’t?

  “I’ll be in the laundry room if you need anything, Lizzy,” she said pointedly. The fact she hadn’t offered him coffee or refreshments and wasn’t acting her usual hospitable self worried me further.

  I led him into the living room and noted the package he held beneath one arm. “This is the reason I’m here,” he announced as he gestured to the long cardboard tube. “I finally heard back from the artist you were interested in commissioning, but unfortunately, he’s not accepting any commissions at this time.”

  I couldn’t help the way my face fell. “Did he want more m
oney?”

  “No, it’s not the offer you made. His wife has fallen ill and he wants to devote his time towards caring for her.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I commented sincerely. “But you could’ve told me all this over the phone. You didn’t have to come all the way to Meryton.”

  “Yes, but after speaking with him and considering your situation, I thought I would like the opportunity to paint for you in his stead.”

  “What?”

  “I thought about what you’d requested, a scene from the Columbia Trail, and I wanted to see it for myself. So…I came to Meryton last night and took a walk early this morning. I can see why you want it depicted. It’s a beautiful trail.”

  I was flabbergasted. He came all this way for a commission? “But I don’t know if I can afford it.” The prices listed on his paintings at the gallery were significantly higher than what I’d seen for the other artist.

  “You guys are practically family, and I’d like to do this for you two.” When I didn’t respond and merely stared at him incredulously, he added, “After my walk this morning, I came up with this.” He retrieved the cardboard tube tucked beneath his arm and opened the top to pull out a large rolled up piece of sketch paper. “It’s just a preliminary sketch, but it’s what I envision for you.”

  Shadows cast by long, sinuous tree branches, the curve of the trail, the bubble of water peeking through rocks and roots, beams of sunlight with a bit of sky. It was perfect, like a hidden paradise in a single glance. In that sketch, he captured perfectly the feeling of intimacy on the trail, the wonder in something so ordinary and yet magnificent, how one’s perspective could utterly transform something you see every day into the most beautiful thing.

  When the silence stretched between us, he appeared crestfallen. “You don’t like it.”

  “No. I mean, I love it. I know it’s just a sketch, but…it’s absolutely perfect. You see it exactly how I see it.”

  “I doubt that. Everyone views things differently. You might see beauty in the curve of that tree branch or the light on the water. I might see it in the ethereal quality of the light or the colors in the leaves.”

  “What types of colors do you see in this?”

  “Mostly greens, some brown in the earth and the trail. Blue tones in the water and the sky.” He produced a small flat of chalks from his satchel and started to color in the drawing. Almost instantly, the picture came to life beneath his fingers, the colors vibrant. With a few, quick strokes on the paper, the sketch became something much more.

  “I could frame this and it would be perfect,” I told him honestly.

  “So, I take it you want me to go ahead with the project?”

  “If you’re willing. This is amazing as is. I can’t even imagine how wonderful it’ll be on canvas. But I do insist on paying you your full rate. You shouldn’t accept anything less for your work. You’re incredibly talented.”

  “Thank you. But I think we should hold off discussing payment until after I produce the finished piece.”

  “Okay.”

  “Speaking of which, are you satisfied with this view of the trail? Is there a particular location you wanted to depict?”

  I knew the exact spot I wanted, but was afraid to ask for too much - he’d already offered more than I’d hoped.

  When I didn’t answer, he smiled. “Why don’t we do this? We can take a walk on the trail. I’ll be able to see the spot and take some pictures, and you can get some fresh air. Unless your ankle isn’t healed well enough.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. Okay, maybe it was still a tiny bit sore, but a walk on the trail was nothing compared to the shifts of torture I’d put it through the past few weeks, and it was feeling tons better in general.

  “Okay, then. Do you have time to spare? I realize I dropped in without even checking if you’re free. After seeing the trail, I have so many images in my head. I guess I sort of got carried away.”

  “I have some time. In fact, I could use the break from studying. Just give me a minute to get my sneakers.”

  ~

  After a few minutes, I stopped in the laundry room to tell Mrs. Pratchett where I was heading. Her obvious disapproval concerned me. “Lizzy, do you think that’s wise? You don’t know this man.”

  “Which is why I’m telling you where I’m going. I’ll have my cell phone on me, and the trail is relatively well travelled this time of day. I’ll be fine.”

  “I just don’t have a good sense about him. And my instincts are usually correct.”

  “Duly noted. But seriously, I’ll be okay.”

  “Wait one moment.” She led me into the kitchen and retrieved her purse from the counter. She dug around and produced a small can. “Pepper spray. Take this, just in case.”

  I dutifully took the can and stuck it in my pocket. “We shouldn’t be long.”

  “If you’re not back by supper, I’m calling the police.”

  “Understood.”

  When I met Chase in the foyer, he appeared concerned. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” As long as this is just a walk and you don’t try anything weird.

  I drove us to the public access closest to Netherfield mansion, which was probably about a quarter mile from the destination I had in mind. The parking area wasn’t very well delineated; in fact, it was less a parking area than a slightly wider part of the road flanked by a ravine. The access to the trail sat across the road.

  Once the car was parked, Chase climbed out and peered over the side of the embankment and whistled. “That’s a fairly steep drop.”

  I tried to ignore Mrs. Pratchett’s voice in my head as I fingered the can of pepper spray through my jeans pocket. Why did I feel so on edge with him?

  I checked for oncoming traffic and crossed the road to the trail head marked by a miniscule sign almost invisible while driving. The only reason I knew it was there was because Darcy had shown me the access point early in our relationship. We’d hiked the area during our first date (and I didn’t count our time at Netherfield as a first date).

  We walked from the trail access to the main conduit. While the path wasn’t fully paved in this area, the mixture of crushed stone and fallen leaves was relatively level and compact, which made for easy walking, a fact my sore ankle rejoiced over.

  The Meryton River flanked one side of the trail, which curved slightly upwards to higher elevations the further north we walked. This spur wasn’t quite as popular as the southern end with its spectacular view of the Meryton Falls and the picturesque mill that was a favorite with the local artists. I liked the relative quiet, the sound of the river bubbling just below us as opposed to the constant rush of the waterfalls on the southern side.

  After walking a few moments, we reached the spot where the trail bent and the river lay at least twenty feet below us. In that spot, two of the trees had fallen, thus affording a clear view of the river. That section of water wasn’t very wide, or deep, but the water was clear enough to reveal catfish swimming lazily. On our first date, Darcy had pulled me to the edge of the path and had kissed me. “I wanted to do that the first time we hiked this trail,” he’d told me in a husky voice.

  “I was dressed in scrubs, sporting a black eye and carrying Chloe on my back.”

  “Yes, and you looked amazing, like a fierce warrior woman.”

  Chase’s voice brought me back to the present. “Is this the spot?”

  I nodded, words escaping me. Why had I brought him here? This was too intimate a spot. Bringing him here felt like I was violating something sacred between Darcy and me.

  “I can see why this is special,” he commented. “The light off the water, the view through the trees.” He retrieved a digital camera from his messenger bag and began snapping photos. “Is this the right season?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Season. Spring, summer, fall…which one?”

  “Summer. Definitely.” Even though Darcy and I
had hiked the trail during every season he listed, it was summertime when we first started dating.

  “Perfect. It would’ve been more difficult to do autumn or spring without having a picture in my mind. Plus, the colors would be off.”

  “The colors you had in that first sketch were perfect.”

  “Good. How’s this?” He gestured for me to join him and showed me one of the pictures he’d shot. “My colors will be more vibrant than in nature, but I think that’s what you’ve indicated you wanted given your reaction to the sketch.”

  The scene framed in the screen was exactly what I’d pictured in my head. He was beginning to freak me out, the way he seemed to read my mind. “That’s it.”

  “Excellent.” He turned off the camera and placed it back into his bag. “What type of time frame are you thinking?”

  “Well, I know you’re busy with your other clients and the gallery, but I was hoping by Christmas.”

  “Done. I’ll go back to my studio and get started on it right away.”

  “You don’t have to rush.”

  “It’s not like that. When I have inspiration, I have to paint. It’s hard to explain, but it’s like if I don’t paint and express what’s inside me, I can’t do anything else. And all this…” He gestured around us with a sweeping motion of his hand. “All this has given me so much inspiration. In fact, I think I have an idea for a whole new series of paintings. Yours will be the first.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing.”

  “It’s an excellent thing. Not to brag, but your painting will be worth quite a bit of money once I’m all done. Speaking of which, how big?”