Vampire Darcy's Desire (12 page)

“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
fed him some of it, enticingly kissing his cheek. He licked her fingertips, sucking them into his mouth.The rest of the world seemed to drop away when they were together. “Would your sister, Georgiana, like me?” she asked as she snuggled into his chest.

“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
take her. Elizabeth remained with him, not moving, and then, reluctantly, she rolled away from him.

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 glazed 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,”
she whispered as she knelt beside him.

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.”

“I
need
no one!” his voice boomed in defiance.

Elizabeth shook her head. “That is where you are wrong, Mr. Darcy. You
never
needed anyone, and this moment—this
very moment
—is where it has gotten you.You may deceive yourself; but you cannot deceive me.”With that, she stormed off down the path.

“Damn!” She heard the curse as she strode away from him, followed closely by the dramatic slamming of the manor house door. Despite the histrionics of the last few minutes, she smiled with the knowledge that Fitzwilliam Darcy had no idea what he just
started—
with a fatalistic certainty, she knew this was not the end.

“Elizabeth, where have you been?” Jane called out as Elizabeth came through the door. Elizabeth hid Darcy’s handkerchief in her pocket before she entered the house.

“Nowhere in particular,” she assured her family. “I went for a walk. I slipped and fell on a sharp stone and cut my hand. It took me a few minutes to stop the bleeding.”

Mr. Bennet looked up in concern.“You staunched the wound, Child?”

Elizabeth nodded to reassure him.“I cleaned it as best I could, but if you will excuse me, I will go to my room and wash it thoroughly.”

She had started away when her mother added,“You have a letter from your Aunt Gardiner on the table by the door.”

“Thank you, Mama. I will return shortly.” She grabbed the letter and bounded up the stairs.

Tossing both her cloak and the letter on the bed, Elizabeth poured water into a nearby bowl.Taking the soap from the tray, she began to wash the wound completely. Although the blood had stopped long ago, the feel of his mouth remained. Her eyes inspected the opening, looking for evidence of his perversion, but she saw none—only the cut. She took the handkerchief from her pocket and placed it in the soapy water to soak.

Returning to the bed, Elizabeth picked up the letter, breaking the wax seal with her finger. A page of close handwriting greeted her. The beginning traditionally shared the latest on the antics of her cousins. Elizabeth adored the children; secretly, she wanted a large brood of her own. She had lied to Darcy on that matter. But her aunt did not discuss her children in this letter.The crux of the letter became immediately apparent:

Elizabeth reread the letter twice before setting it aside. Hands shaking, she returned to the task of cleaning the handkerchief. It was real, and it belonged to Darcy, the Darcy she spent the past week talking to, riding with, and kissing. It did not belong to the Mr. Darcy her Aunt Meredith described.
That man does not exist.

Yet as she scrubbed the blood from the cloth, she felt his mouth on her wound—felt his teeth touching her neck. A shiver ran down her spine. Could he have told her the truth? Could he be a vampire?

What if he did kill those women?
Yet it did not make sense. She took the cloth from the water and hung it close to the fire to dry. She traced the embroidered
FD
with her fingertip. “Fitzwilliam,” she whispered. His name brought her comfort, not repulsion. Now, she would have to see him again, whether he wanted her as part of his life or not; she could not walk away from the mystery.