Chapter Three #4
“No, William, I do not want it to end. The day will come when you must return to Pemberley, and my life will return to the mundane, but until that time, I choose to be near you.” She fell into his embrace.
Her fingers pulled at the opening of his shirt, and Elizabeth arched towards him.
“There is something unfinished between us.”
Darcy’s hands slid up and down her arms before his fingers caressed her neck. At the point where he could view her pulse, a red mark surprised him. “Elizabeth?” he questioned, while touching the spot very gently.
“It is nothing,” she said casually. “Just a burn from your whiskers.”
In a tenuous moment, he saw the truth. “Dear Lord, I am sorry. I never wished to harm you.” His voice trembled with fear, imagining what he could do to her if he permitted his curse to control his desire.
“I know. It is well. Perfectly well.” She attempted to soothe away what she did not understand.
Repulsed by his lack of control, Darcy set her from him. “We should retire for the evening.”
However, Elizabeth resisted by pushing him down upon the chair. “William, what did I do to upset you?”
“If I tell you, you will think me a candidate for Bedlam, and you will turn from me. I do not believe I could bear reproach in your eyes.” Darcy’s fingers circled the mark on her neck—a mark he had left there.
“Tell me, William. If it is a part of you, I must know about it.”
He had not known her long, but Darcy knew she would brook no dissent. If he wished to keep her in his life, he must tell Elizabeth the truth.
He smiled ironically, his lips twitching with a grim acceptance.
“Actually, it is a part of both of us, but I did not know such until last evening.” His eyes returned to the mark.
“You said the story of Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender was a favorite tale in your family, but in mine, it is a tale of horror—a plague on us all.” He heard her breath catch, but Elizabeth did not interrupt.
She stroked the hair from his forehead and kissed his cheek, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.
“It is a tale of nightmares,” he began cautiously.
“Two centuries ago, Leána, a beautiful muse of a vampire, fell in love with Arawn Benning, a young artist. She offered him inspiration and success. The offer was tempting, but Arawn learned that if he succumbed to Leána’s charms, he would belong to her for an eternity.
Those who previously agreed to her terms went on to great fame and glory, but in exchange they earned eventual madness, followed by a premature death.
“Therefore, Arawn Benning refused the muse, for he passionately loved Lady Ellender D’Arcy.
Because of his refusal, Leána was to become his slave for a decade, assisting him, but never knowing where his true affection rested.
” Horror flashed briefly in Elizabeth’s eyes, but now that he had begun the tale, he could not stop.
“Infuriated by the slight, Leána sought the assistance of her baobhan síth sisters. The coven placed a curse on the couple. Arawn’s descendants would forever envy the D’Arcy family, and they would never achieve the greatness they sought.
Moreover, the baobhan síth meant to take Arawn’s life.
Frantic when she learned of the bargain, Lady Ellender offered another of her suitors in Arawn’s stead.
She convinced the vampiric coven to accept Seorais Winchcombe, a young man she deemed of less worth than Arawn. ”
He paused. He wished to hold her—to protect her from the truth, but he recognized she instinctively knew the story without his interpretation. “Should I continue?” he inquired softly.
Elizabeth appeared overwhelmed by what he said, but she nodded her agreement.
“Seorais, a true vampire, lives on the blood of his victims. Other than his preoccupation with death, Seorais Winchcombe has one other goal: revenge on the D’Arcy family.
Each generation, he converts a D’Arcy—or someone a D’Arcy loves—to eternal damnation.
Lady Ellender D’Arcy became one of his victims, and she passed along those tendencies to the firstborn sons of her descendants.
Her descendants are known as dhampirs because they are part human and possess the right to choose their destiny.
Depending on the choices they make, they can escape the curse.
However, no one has yet chosen a life of celibacy.
The lure of eternal life and the seduction of fame and glory have proved too much for them.
” By degrees, Darcy drew her gaze. “Elizabeth, Arawn is the Scottish name for Thomas. Your ancestor and mine loved each other. We are bound in a twisted fate.”
He watched as she closed her eyes as real terror crept over her. The story proved to be a bucket of cold water splashed into her face. “Are you telling me you suffer under this curse as a vampire?” Her words were barely audible in the empty ballroom.
Darcy looked directly into her eyes, trusting her with his awful secret. “I am telling you I am the firstborn son of my family.”