Compulsively Mr. Darcy (8 page)

Again nothing! He pressed his lips together and stood motionless for so long she suddenly worried. Had she misdiagnosed his past headaches as migraines? Could he suffer from temporal lobe epilepsy and was now having a paranormal experience associated with that condition? “William, are you okay? Are you having strange thoughts and illusions right now? Can you tell me your full name and today's date?”

“No. Yes. Fitzwilliam Alexander James Darcy. And today is…” After giving her the correct date, he sucked in several shuddering deep breaths, then turned and walked in a circle.

Concerned, she followed.
He's alert and oriented. He's moving, so he's not in danger of passing out. Is he angry? Maybe he's upset I figured out his relationship with Charles? Should I have confronted him so directly?

A mouth on hers interrupted her muddled thoughts. He'd stopped and wrapped one arm around her and brought her to that wonderful, hard chest. Her belly was crushed against a decidedly aroused male groin. A tongue parted her lips. He sucked her tongue. Her bones disintegrated. She had to clutch at him so she wouldn't slide to the sand.

He stopped and lifted his mouth. Light-headed from his kiss, she blinked and tried to focus. He lowered his mouth again. This time, she felt the slow, savoring caress of his lips. He tenderly licked at the corners of her lips before his tongue again probed. Her body shivered—a sinful, scrumptious shiver. The tips of their tongues danced. She moaned.

When he finally withdrew, they both breathed hard. He touched his forehead to hers. She pressed closer into him. Cold waves reached them and lapped at her legs, but she didn't mind, contented to stay still in the stolen moment.

The sound of a gull screeching near their heads startled them and they reluctantly parted. Holding her left hand with his right, he started walking.

She opened her mouth.

He stopped, put a finger over her lips, and shook his head. They headed toward the resort. Though, after a few steps, he paused briefly and gave her a look of disbelief before continuing.

He didn't kiss like any of her old gay boyfriends, that was for sure. Elizabeth smiled and touched her tongue to her lips. She took in his imperturbable profile and her smile slipped. He didn't seem too affected by the kiss, she thought. She sighed. What else did she expect? She wasn't Charles Bingley.

Once they reached the doorway to his suite, she hesitated and waved a hand at her wet clothes. Wordlessly, he pulled her inside, led her straight to the bathroom, pointed to the shower and the bathrobe hanging, and left. Shrugging, she undressed and got into the shower.

Molten
, she read the engraved word on the soap bar. She took a whiff. Sandalwood and pepper. Finally, she had discovered the source of his scent. Her breathing quickened. He had used this bar. On his body. His naked body. Her pulse danced. Slowly, she circled the bar over her breasts. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the shower wall and breathed deep, letting his scent mist her…

“Elizabeth, are you all right in there? I ordered tea for you. It's getting cold.”

***

After knocking on the bathroom door, Darcy downed a generous sip of brandy. He didn't usually drink at this time of day, but he felt a desperate need for some fortification. How? Why? What? No fathomable answer came to him how the clueless woman had come to that conclusion.

He settled on the couch and waited, willing himself not to think of her naked in his shower. Just when he was about to get up and knock again, she came out wearing his robe. She looked so beautiful, so sexy… and so vulnerable.

His heart tumbled.

Her hands fidgeted in the pockets of the robe.

To distract her from her nervousness, he said, “English Breakfast tea okay? Or would you prefer something else?”

“That's fine.” When he handed her a cup, she looked surprised. “You know I take my tea plain, without sugar or milk?”

“I know a great many things about you, Elizabeth.”

“Oh.” Her fingers nervously tugged at her wet hair. She stared down at her tea.

“You, however, don't know much about me.”

She glanced up at that. He met her eyes. She bit her bottom lip. After a moment, she straightened and a hopeful, eager look came over her.

That look told him more than any words would. He decided it didn't matter she had misread him, the how or why of it. “I'm not with Charles or any man. I'm not gay.”

“You're not? Are you sure?” Her tone was hopeful.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In as firm a voice as possible, he stated, “Yes. I'm sure. You were mistaken.”

“Oh, William.” She reached for him at the same moment he moved toward her.

Burying his face in her wet hair, he smelled the scent of his soap on her and felt a soft affectionate kiss on his neck. He closed his eyes and thanked the gods for leading him to her.

“I'm so glad.”

He laughed at that. “Not that there's anything wrong with being gay if I was, but I happen to like women. I like one particular woman. I'm in love with you too.”

She made a happy noise in the back of her throat. When he leaned back against the sofa, she tucked her head on his shoulder. He sighed with contentment.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she said, “I'm so happy.”

He smiled against her hair. “Me too.”

“I do know something about you, you know.”

The fluttering of her breath against his neck felt better than a whole month of Sundays in Central Park, he decided. “Like what?”

“You think through things carefully before you give your opinions or make decisions. I'm a bit more snap with my opinions and decisions.”

“Really? I hadn't noticed.” That earned him a playful tap on the chest.

“You're responsible. That first day you arrived, you were suffering, yet you went with Charles to the hospital. Your frantic worrying about the care he needed made me think you two were partners.”

“But after you and I spent some time together, did you not notice how much I liked you, from the beginning?”

“I did notice you were attracted to me, but you never pay any attention to other women… like those two cute girls at Marble Mountain or the beautiful girls at Merry Bar…”

“At the risk of sounding like a bloody vain arse, I'm used to such attention and well, I'm rather fastidious.”

“As an infectious disease specialist, I'm very glad to hear that.” Her voice turned shy. “If I compare myself to those ethereal and beautiful women, I always feel quite plain.”

Surprised, he blurted, “But you're beautiful.” Didn't she know how beautiful she was? How sexy she was? She was right, however; she was not ethereal. Even better, she was refreshingly and tangibly real both in her personality and in her appearance. He repeated, “You're beautiful.”

“Really?” She gave him a bashful pleased smile that made him want to rush at her and show her how beautiful he found her.

“Yes, really.” To distract himself from acting on his urge, he said, “You gave me a shock. No woman has ever been mistaken about me in that regard before.”

“Not that they told you.” She squeaked when he playfully lunged at her. “Okay, okay. I was mistaken. You're a big manly stud and a gift to womankind.”

“I'm only interested in giving
you
my manly gift.” He winked at her. To his surprise, her face turned red. Suddenly conscious she had nothing but a robe on, he coughed. “Perhaps it's best that we get you in some clothes.”

He walked toward his closet and found a T-shirt and a pair of shorts for her. He turned to hand them to her but she'd disappeared to the bathroom.

She'd left the bathroom door slightly ajar. Unaware he could see her through the reflection in the mirror, she took off the robe. His eyes filled with the sight of a beautiful naked Elizabeth in side view, her full breasts swinging slightly as she gracefully bent toward her damp clothes. His breathing labored. His mouth dried. He licked his lips.

Dressed in her damp clothes, she came out smiling at him. “I need to go to my room and change into dry clothes. Are you all right? You looked flushed. William?”

He tried to shake himself out of his trance.

She gave him a puzzled look. “You'd rather I change now, into your clothes, before we go to my room?”

Not knowing what else to do, he nodded.

She took the clothes from his hands and disappeared into the bathroom again, thankfully closing the door completely this time.

***

Once they reached her room, he waited outside on her balcony while she changed in her bedroom. Briefly, he pondered the possibility of getting another lucky glimpse if he walked in on her, and immediately chided himself for thinking like a hormonal teenager.

“Do you want your T-shirt back?”

He turned around. In a white blouse atop a green skirt that softly draped over her hips, she looked as refreshing as a beautiful gardenia flower.

She held up his T-shirt. “Could I have this? I like to sleep in large T-shirts.” When he nodded, she ran back inside with it, as if afraid he would change his mind.

Amused, he followed her. His mood sobered when he saw his letter on her bedside table.

She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“It's probably the first time ever I've written it all down.” He wrapped his arms around her. “I wanted you to know everything. I didn't want you to be taken advantage of by George Wickham.”

“I just met him last night. I can't even remember what he looks like now.” She frowned. “I must have drunk a lot last night.”

“Yes, you did! How could you let a man you've only met yesterday get you so drunk?”

“I was upset. I hadn't seen you for days and you threw me a disgusted glance, then you disappeared.”

“I was looking at him, not you. You're the one who's been trying to avoid me for days! Don't think I didn't notice that.”

“I was avoiding you,” she admitted. “But that's because of Charles.”

“When I saw you flirting with Wickham last night, I thought he was why you've been absent and avoiding me. And I only left to calm myself. I came back and stayed close by. I don't trust him.”

“I wasn't flirting with George,” she protested. He glared at her. Sheepishly, she said, “Okay, perhaps just a little flirting.”

“Next time, Miss Quick-to-jump-to-conclusions, talk to me. Ask me if you have questions.” He glowered. “No flirting or kissing other men.”

“He was the donkey's ass I kissed? I thought it was your toad face I was kissing to… never mind.”

“What? I was the toad?”

“No, no. You're a prince, always.” She stroked his chest to soothe him. “Don't mind me. I'm never drinking again. You're the bellboy! And I threw up on you.”

“I don't know who the bellboy was, but you did vomit on me.”

“I'm sorry. I should have hurled on Wickham's face instead. You don't need to be jealous of him. I'm a very good judge of character. On first impression, I can always tell what a guy is really like underneath.”

He was about to laugh when he realized she had said that last bit without any pretense of irony. He rolled his eyes instead. The crazy woman was serious.

She insisted, “I knew he was too smarmy and too smooth right away. I was in no danger of being attracted to him. All the time he was talking to me, he was checking out other women.”

“Bet you didn't think he was gay because of that,” he grumbled.

“No. I did not. And before you give me that pout and roll your eyes again, think of this: I was lusting after your
arse
even when his
arse
was available and right next to me.” She pinched his backside.

He jumped in surprise; she did it again and ran. Laughing, he easily caught her and gently swatted her bum. She shrieked. His face was against the side of her neck when he stopped laughing. He pressed his lips against her soft skin, at the spot right behind her ear.

Her breathing changed. Their lips met. As their kiss deepened, he became conscious of her soft, full breasts pressing against him. She moaned. He raised his hands. She gasped when his thumbs caressed her nipples. Trailing his lips downward, his mouth boldly replaced his thumb. The grainy gauze of the shirt rubbed against the thin silk of her bra as his tongue dampened her pointed peaks. She shifted restlessly against him. Impatiently, she tugged at the neckline of her shirt until the top buttons loosened. She unclasped her bra. Her breast revealed, face full of anticipation, she closed her eyes.

His heart rate rocketed. God, she was as sexy and responsive as in his fantasies. He hardened and glanced at the bed. He cursed. He didn't have a condom. “Elizabeth, do you have…”

She interrupted by pushing his mouth onto her chest.

He smiled at her impatience. Bending his head, he greedily suckled. When he shifted one leg to steady himself, his thigh ended up pressing intimately between her legs. Slightly shocked at first when she began to rub herself against him, he became aroused further by her uninhibited behavior; he rhythmically pushed his thigh against her. She briefly protested when he lifted his mouth from one breast to the other. He increased his effort to help her reach her climax. Her body convulsed against his leg then she collapsed against him.

“Wow,” she said a long moment later, after she caught her breath.

Chuckling at her dazed expression, he gave a little bow. “Glad to serve you, madam.”

“Wow. I've never…”

“You've never what?”

Red-faced, she moved away and fussed with her clothes.

His heart rate descended. His body calmed. He kicked himself for making her uncomfortable and self-conscious. He had moved too fast. “Elizabeth, I'm sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize. I've never been with anyone.”

“You mean you've never experienced…” His breath caught, sure he had heard wrong. His mind refused to go further.

“No, of course I have, lots of times…”

He started to exhale slowly.

“Just not with anyone else.”

The inside voice in his head screamed happily.
She's a virgin! Bloody great!

“Some guys don't like an inexperienced woman. You don't mind, do you?”

“I don't mind at all,” he managed to answer in what he hoped was a casual voice.
She's a virgin! Bloody great!

“It's not something I'm…” She stopped and started again. “My family teases me about my love life and lack of it, and… I've only recently told Jane.”

“There's no need for you to feel embarrassed,” he said gently.

“I'm hungry,” she suddenly said.

Amused at how red her face still appeared, he went along with her change of topic. “We shall get you fed then. Which of the five restaurants here would you like to have dinner at?”

“Could we order in? But eat in your room, on the patio? I like your ocean view.”

Over dinner, they kept the conversation light. Keeping specific details to the bare minimum, she told him amusing stories about cultural differences in the practice of medicine here in Vietnam and at home. Proudly, she bragged about her recently published research on a particular parasite. He asked questions but was mainly content to listen. It was obvious how much medicine meant to her and that she loved her work.

After dinner, they sat with their arms around each other and watched the waves. They talked. He expanded on his mother's death and his guilt, and touched more on his profound regret about his relationship with his father and his hope that his sister would return to college soon.

She reassured him his sister would recover and move on soon, and told him of her own similar experience at sixteen with an older professor. He was upset for her, but he didn't interrupt while she talked. Afterward, he thanked her for trusting him enough to have shared that. It helped him understand her better.