Chapter Four #3
Yet, when he thought of Elizabeth, the need to be with her was greater than the need to deny the Darcy curse.
Moreover, no one would know he was with her.
He could remove to Elizabeth’s room without physically leaving the one he was in.
Should I dare? Would she welcome me? Without dwelling on the possibilities, Darcy cleared his mind and forced all his thoughts into moving through the hallways unseen.
Like a vortex sucking in time and space, his mind claimed a conjuration, beguiling those who slept in each of the rooms he mentally touched.
Silently, he entered where Elizabeth slept.
Moving without sound, he crept slowly to the bed’s edge.
She was so innocently beautiful. His heart ached with a hunger he could never expect to fill.
Lightly, Darcy traced the outline of her jaw.
Enchanted by the moonlight streaming across her countenance, he bent to kiss her cheek.
His breath tickled Elizabeth’s skin, and she brushed at the touch of his lips, as if they were a butterfly’s wings flitting across her flesh.
Darcy fought back a chuckle. Instead of touching her again, he sat in a chair beside the bed to watch her.
He took pleasure in studying Elizabeth in sleep—the evenness of her breathing eased the anxiety he had felt since abandoning her earlier.
It was interesting to observe how she subconsciously recognized his presence. They were joined in that manner. At length, Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open. Pale hazel eyes, so clear they were nearly transparent, met his gaze. “William,” she muttered and stretched out a hand to him.
But when Darcy clasped hers in his, the realization of his presence in her quarters shot through Elizabeth, and she bolted upright. “Mr. Darcy!” she gasped, “What are you doing in my room?”
Darcy smiled, for she had not screamed out, not that her doing so would matter after his enchantment. “Watching you sleep, Vixen.”
Although he had seen her in her nightfall previously, she clasped the sheet to her chest in an attempt at modesty. Darcy did not protest. “How did you get in here? I locked the door!”
“Can you comprehend that I have powers we have not discussed?” He dropped to his knees beside the bed and eased her back onto the pillow. “I did not come to seduce you. But I did not want our night to end with my escorting Miss Bingley to her room.”
Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed, but her eyes never left his. “I dreamed you watched over me, and when I woke … Is that possible?”
“Is what possible?” His fingertips circled the outline of her palm.
She whispered, “Such a connection?”
Darcy shook his head. “I cannot say with confidence. Once I learned of my powers, I did not cultivate them. But I could not leave you without a farewell.”
“How do the powers work?” She slid to one side so he might sit on the edge of the bed.
“I know not how to speak of them. They remain beneath the surface, until I call them forth. My energy, for lack of another word, permits me to move through time, bending it to my will. No one will know I am here; they sleep in another time. I came through a narrow opening. It is as if one is falling into quicksand with time swirling around him. Both moving and standing still at the same time. If someone were to open your door right this moment, he would observe you asleep, because that is how you were when I entered the time slip. I have no other means to explain it.”
Elizabeth noted, “I suppose such is how Evil finds its victims.”
“You have nothing to fear from me, Elizabeth. These powers might be how others execute vile acts, but I have never used them before tonight.”
“I do not fear you, William,” she assured him. “I simply thought aloud. This is all so new to me. I have done things in the past week I never considered doing previously.”
“Yes.” Darcy touched her lips with his fingertips. Then he lowered his head to kiss her lightly.
When he lifted his head, she said, “William, I do not want this to end.” The words rushed from her like water breaking through a dam. “I want to continue to ride—to practice with the swords—to waltz—to spend time just talking.”
He brushed his lips across hers. “Do not forget the kissing.”
Elizabeth slid her arms around his neck, pulling him close. “No, let us not forget the kissing.”
“I must leave,” he said in a husky whisper.
“Must you?” Her words hung in the air between them. They were together because they needed to be. It was as if they lived in another world, where only they two existed.
“Would you permit me to hold you? To lie beside you? I will not take advantage. On my honor, I will not.” He had taught himself not to hope for happiness, but he feared Elizabeth might be his one great regret.
They did not light a candle. The moonlight told the story.
Darcy rested beside Elizabeth, one arm embracing her.
Elizabeth’s arm was on his chest, and her head nestled against his shoulder.
He rested his chin on top of her head as he stroked the hair at the nape of her neck.
“I will leave you with the light. Sleep. I will protect you.” He breathed in her fragrance and held his breath to keep it there.
Darcy waited until he was assured that she slept, and then his eyes drifted closed. How natural all this felt! She was a beacon to his tortured soul. He wanted more, but Fate had determined another life for him.