Vampire Darcy's Desire (63 page)

“Neither am I, Fitzwilliam,” she warned, “so please make no ultimatums we will both regret later.”

“Then tell me what are my options, Elizabeth. I do not see where being married to one of the richest men in England can be such a deterrent; obviously, Pemberley is superior to your situation at Longbourn.” Darcy offered more than any woman with similar connections could hope to achieve; he thought that should be worth something.

“Do—do not,” she stammered, “do
not
twist this into a fight about position and social standing. I love
you,
” she asserted. “I chose you over my family. Does that not prove my depth of affection? Yet it is not a competition to see who loves whom more. It is not a matter of sacrificing ourselves for our union.”

Again a long silence wafted over them. “I will give up my powers and not practice them ever again.”

“And that changes things how?” she demanded.

“If I do not use my powers, then we will not deal with age differences.” He thought it a fair compromise.

Elizabeth’s frustration exploded. She snatched up her reticule from the bed. “You may be only one of the richest men in England, Fitzwilliam, but you wear the
crown
as the most infuriating and stubborn one!” Darcy’s heart clutched as she slammed the hotel door and stormed away.

 

Thirty minutes later, Darcy found her having tea in one of the corners of the hotel’s sitting room. As the hours for supper service were well under way, Darcy was unsure how to approach her. “Elizabeth,” he said as he came up behind her,“may I escort you to the dining room?”

She stood and took his proffered arm.“Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”

 

The difference between the woman who had offered him strong condemnations less than an hour earlier and the amiable woman seated next to him now kept Darcy on edge. He expected that, at any moment, Elizabeth would return to the subject of their argument, but nothing happened. Instead, they talked of books they read and changes for Pemberley. It reminded Darcy of the
late-night stolen hours at Netherfield.

“Thank you, Elizabeth,” he leaned close to whisper.

Yet she did not respond with a retort or an acceptance. Again, Darcy felt fear in the pit of his stomach; it was not like Elizabeth to give up so easily. Did he not tell Wickham he did not have enough followers to stop her if she set her mind to a task?
She is more than either of us can handle.

“Are you ready to return to our room?” he asked politely.

“I believe so. I find I am tired.” Darcy remained wary. He thought they might revisit their earlier confrontation when they were once again behind closed doors.

Together they returned to the room. Darcy ordered a bath, and they sat in front of the fire while the hotel staff filled the copper tub with hot water.“If you do not mind, Fitzwilliam, I would like to go first.”

“Of course not. Let me unlace you.” Darcy stood to assist with the back of her dress. The nape of Elizabeth’s neck tempted him again, but still unsure of what his wife would do, Darcy chose to ignore it this time. “I will enjoy a brandy while you relax in the warm water.”

Once she was free of the clothing’s fasteners, Elizabeth stepped behind a screen to undress. Darcy saw the silhouette: the roundness of her hips and the perfect symmetry of her figure, and he gulped his drink, pushing away his desire. He felt lecherous watching Elizabeth without her knowledge, but he was loath to look away. He listened as she hummed a ballad—the water faintly lapping against the tub in the background. He knew exactly what she looked like reclining in the tub, with the soapy water caressing her breasts, and he felt himself go hard with the memories.

The sound of her getting out of the water signaled his own ablutions, so he removed his jacket and boots while she toweled dry. He was unbuttoning his waistcoat when Elizabeth appeared from behind the screen. Darcy quit breathing. She wore nothing but a slight blush and a smile. Her damp hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. Darcy had no idea how long he
watched her before Elizabeth gave him a renewed blush and moved away to the bed, slipping on a satin gown and wrapper.

So aroused that he did not believe he could take any more, Darcy swallowed the need bubbling in his chest and made himself walk away from her. Behind the screen, he unbuttoned the flap of his breeches. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. Normally, he preferred his bath water hot, but tonight he prayed it was icy cold.

When he had finally regained his composure, Darcy climbed from the tub and dried off. He donned a nightshirt and put his toiletries away, stalling before he joined Elizabeth in bed. He hoped she had fallen asleep waiting for him. Finishing up a quick shave, he paused, thinking about what she had said.Was he right in denying Elizabeth a chance for children of her own? He had no doubt she would make an exemplary mother. Did his father have this same argument with himself? Had his mother made the same decision as Elizabeth, deciding she would take the good with the bad?
And is that not what every marriage is—the good mixed with the bad?
His mother had never seemed unhappy, except when she had begged his forgiveness for allowing the curse to continue. She had showered him and Georgiana with so much love:They were the center of her world.

The lamp barely lit the room when he reentered the bedchamber. Elizabeth lay curled on her side, her face turned away from him, the bed linens pulled up around her shoulders. Her even breathing made Darcy believe that his prayer had been answered. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he extinguished the light; and then he slid under the linens with her.As he always did, he rolled next to Elizabeth, to spoon her body with his.

He stilled immediately; completely naked, Elizabeth’s body felt soft and inviting. Instantly, the arousal returned.They had never lain together without clothing between them.
What is she doing to me
?

Growling back profanity, he lifted his weight to move away from her, sliding as far to his side of the bed as possible. Elizabeth did not move; she remained facing away from him, so Darcy fluffed
the pillow behind his head and tried to put the image of his luscious wife out of his mind. He made himself take deep, steadying breaths and jammed his eyes closed. Maybe it would be better if she did leave him. At least, then his body and his mind could concentrate on something besides Elizabeth.

Twenty minutes later, feeling relaxed at last, Darcy let his eyes close naturally, although he kept the distance between himself and Elizabeth.

Elizabeth had waited quietly for Darcy’s reaction when he crawled into the bed. She had never done anything so bold in her life.Turning down the lamp so Darcy could not see her embarrassment was the only way she could go through with her plan. Her husband desired her; of that, she was absolutely certain. She had simply decided to remind him of that desire on a regular basis. He had controlled their relationship to this point, but now she would take it over.That is, if she could overcome feeling like a complete wanton. Thankfully, Aunt Merry had explained how some men expected their wives to wear nothing when making love. Her aunt feared the rich to be more “experimental” in their relationships, and she offered Elizabeth a warning. It had seemed scandalous at the time, but now it felt more like freedom.

Gauging the evenness of Darcy’s breathing, Elizabeth smiled confidently before she moved. Rolling casually over, as if in deep sleep, she cuddled into Darcy’s side and draped her left leg over his body. Pretending to be in the nearly waking stage of sleep, she lightly kissed the side of his cheek and muttered something unintelligible in a seductive breath. She briefly arched towards him and then settled her head in the curvature of his shoulder.

Darcy stiffened, but, intuitively, his arm came around her, and he held Elizabeth tightly to him. Eyes now wide open and heart pounding, he oscillated between wanting to run far away from her and desiring to lose himself in Elizabeth’s body. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts as he closed his eyes and moaned her name. Her hair draped across his arm and chest—the same chest where
Elizabeth’s fingers now rested in the opening of his nightshirt. Suddenly, he felt very warm—almost unbearably so, but it had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

Elizabeth relished how Darcy’s fingers began to trail fire down her spine and across the rise of her hips, but she did nothing more than snuggle closer and brush her lips across his chest. She played at being asleep and let her husband explore her body at his own pace.

Mystified by his inability to stop, Darcy saw himself as disengaged from his own body; his mind fought for control, but, unfortunately, his body overruled his mind’s every objection. Elizabeth would not deny him his perverted pleasure. They had married a month earlier, and his resolve not to have her weakened by the moment. When he thought to die in Wickham’s cellar, his one regret was that he would never know the pleasure of Elizabeth’s love. Someone else would claim her after his death, and the thought nearly drove him insane. Now she lay in his arms, and all he had to do was commit himself to loving her completely.

Impulsively, Darcy rolled her to her back and hovered over her, burying his face in Elizabeth’s hair.“God help me, Elizabeth. I surrender.” His lips found hers in a deep, passionate kiss. “Tell me again. Is this what you really want? If you have any doubts, we should not go through with this.”

“I have more love in my heart for you, Husband, than the dear Lord should allow a woman to feel. I want to be yours, Fitzwilliam, in every way possible—for a lifetime.” Elizabeth did not breathe; she knew Darcy still wavered.

They remained staring into each other’s eyes for several long moments.Then Darcy lowered his mouth to hers.This kiss spoke of hunger and need.“You know,Vixen, once I have you, I will want you again and again. I am a starving man.You will need to suffer my attentions for a lifetime.”

Elizabeth stroked the side of his face with the back of her hand. “I want to feel your skin touching mine—to not know where either of us begins or ends,” she whispered.

Two heartbeats later, Darcy stripped away the shirt, and then he
draped himself over her. His lips found hers again in an open-mouth kiss, Darcy’s tongue dueling with Elizabeth’s before he licked the outline of her lips, coaxing a moan from her. “A marriage not in name only.” His lips hovered above hers as he spoke the words aloud, giving them power—giving them life.

Passion flared between them as heat rushed to their every pore. Darcy drew Elizabeth closer to him, realizing she hungered for him as much as he did for her.The smell of the lavender oil she had used in the bath clung to her skin, along with some other undefined bouquet, one of wild desire and excitement, and it inflamed him as his fingertips traced a line from her temple across her jaw and down her neck.

His mouth followed his fingertips until Darcy sucked gently at the vein throbbing at the base of Elizabeth’s neck. He nipped at her gently and then moved to the swell of her breasts.

He would make love to his wife—he would give himself completely to her—would forget his perverted sense of honor and responsibility and welcome hope, commitment, and love into his heart.

Elizabeth splayed a hand across his chest and pressed herself against him, robbing Darcy of breath and of any coherent thought. “I love you,” she whispered close to his ear, “for an eternity. I am yours, Fitzwilliam.” The ache of desire became a longing—a craving for what Elizabeth offered him, and intuitively his hands began to search her body, the need to know all of her overwhelming his senses.

“I will be gentle,” he murmured.

“I do not fear you, Fitzwilliam. How could a person fear
love?
”

“Look, Mama,” the girl called as she twirled in place.

“You are an excellent dancer, Lydia.” Elizabeth sat on a blanket and watched the child playing barefoot on the bank of the lake. The day was sunny, and it called to them to be outside.

The girl stepped left and right and pretended to curtsy to an unknown partner.“Come dance with me, Mama.”

Happily, Elizabeth rose to stand with the child in the clearing. Taking the girl’s hands, she began to count,“One and two and three and four,” as they sidestepped over the carefully manicured lawn.

The girl’s curly auburn hair bounced in ringlets as they bobbed and twisted to the imaginary music, and soon they were in fits of laughter.

“Would you prefer to dance with me, Miss Lydia?” Darcy stepped from behind one of the nearby trees. He was covered in road dirt, but his appearance pleased both the ladies; he was pure masculinity.

“Papa!” the girl’s arms came up in a hug as he scooped her into his embrace.“I am so glad you are home.”

He planted a kiss on the side of the child’s cheek. She might have her mother’s hair and build, but Lydia Darcy was his child, right down to her icy blue eyes.

“Will you dance with me, Papa?”