Chapter Five
WHEN DAWN brOKE, HE NO LONGER SLEPT BESIDE HER. THE WARMTH OF him lingered on her body. She touched her lips. She could still feel the pressure of his mouth on hers. He had hypnotized her with his charms— his desire to please her. Elizabeth Bennet was bewitched.
She observed him only briefly during the morning services.
He sat with the Bingleys on a pew at the front, while she and Jane joined their family on the other side of the aisle.
By leaning forward, she could view his profile.
He sat with his eyes downcast throughout the sermon on Samson killing the honey-filled lion before vanquishing the Philistines.
Elizabeth wondered how Mr. Darcy could sit in a church—could walk about during the day.
Although she could only name a few, every tale she knew of vampires and other beasts of the night rushed through her head.
Did not vampires sleep in a coffin? Did they not shun the daylight?
Did they not survive on blood? Did the sight of the cross not make them flee?
Yet Fitzwilliam Darcy, an avowed vampire, did none of these.
He slept in a bed, walked in the sunlight, ate food, and sat before the cross in a church.
She could not justify the discrepancies.
When he took her hand to assist her into the carriage, Elizabeth felt him slip something into her palm.
She clasped his note tightly. Without notice from anyone, she slipped it into her reticule.
He nodded silently to bid her farewell as she and Jane rode away from Netherfield.
Elizabeth felt as if she had left a part of herself behind.
Darcy fought the urge to chase after the carriage that transported her from him.
Last night had been the most magnificent night of his life.
He closed his eyes and felt her stretched out along the length of his body, their legs entangled, her hair mussed and falling across his arms. Desire shot straight to his groin, while frustration swam in his veins.
Why can I not have her? Why has Fate shown me such a great unkindness?
Reluctantly, he followed the Bingleys into the house.
Charles appeared as devastated as he, but Darcy could not share his misery, for no one could understand what he possessed with Elizabeth Bennet.
“Time cannot heal this pain,” he murmured before he entered the drawing room, a purposeful smile plastered upon his lips.
“Liberation!” Miss Bingley declared with gusto.
Darcy glanced to Bingley, who sat forlornly in a nearby chair. His friend was too accustomed to Miss Bingley’s sarcastic barbs to take note of Caroline’s bitterness, but Darcy did.
“I would think, Miss Bingley,” he said in tones of warning, “that you would recognize your brother’s desire to become a part of this rural society.
A true gentleman takes the lead in his neighborhood.
He sets the standard for what he expects of his tenants and his acquaintances.
With Bingley’s generosity to the Bennet sisters, your brother has shown Christian duty.
It would do us all well to perform as such. ”
At home and alone in her room, Elizabeth reached for the reticule.
The note rested on the bottom, and she withdrew it slowly, savoring the moment.
She brought it to her face and smelled it—traces of sandalwood—traces of him.
A smile flitted across her lips. She unfolded the paper and gave it her full attention.
Vixen,
Please come to the house tomorrow at eleven. I will be waiting, counting the moments.
D.
Elizabeth’s heart jumped in her chest. Yes.
Elizabeth hurried up the pathway to the back of the manor house.
Darcy watched her from the small window in the lower level.
He delighted in the sight of her. When she burst through the door, he caught her in his arms and pulled her fully to him, burying his face against her hair, kissing her with all the hunger of a starving man.
When he broke the embrace, she giggled. “You missed me, Sir?”
“I greet all my lady friends in this manner,” he countered.
“I beg to differ, Mr. Darcy. I do not believe you have kissed Miss Bingley in such a fashion.” She pulled away and crossed the room.
Darcy chuckled behind her. “I will grant you that. I would never kiss Miss Bingley.”
“And your other lady friends?” she said tauntingly.
He confessed, “Any there might have been are long ago forgotten. Only you exist.”
Elizabeth smiled. “The perfect answer, Mr. Darcy.” Then she took his hand and led him towards the hall. “I require more practice.”
“I never saw a woman who loved to fight as much as you.” He laughingly followed her.
The practice rapiers rested on a nearby table.
She picked up the nearest one and bent the steel, testing it.
He picked up the other one and made a few practice forays.
“Are you prepared, my dear?” He made an exaggerated bow in her direction.
“I am a willing vessel, Mr. Darcy. Teach me what I must know,” she purred.
“Oh, Vixen,” he moaned. “You should never say such words to a man who looks on a woman as I do you.”
She walked towards him, playfully sashaying her hips, and cupped his cheek in her palm. Darcy turned his head to kiss the inside of her hand. Then she rose on her tiptoes to kiss him briefly. “You, William, see a woman no one else does. Now, Sir, teach me a new move with the sword.”
He sighed deeply with resignation. “First, we will review the demivolte.” They stood side by side, sweeping the sword through the air while turning.
“Now, let us oppose each other. I want you to block my assault. Keep your sword horizontal, not vertical.” He executed the move in slow motion, providing her time to adjust, but she required no pampering.
Elizabeth Bennet, were she a man, could take her toll on a dueling field.
“Excellent,” he declared after the fourth attempt.
“A new move, please,” she begged excitedly. “I love this 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 beside her and repeated the move several times before she copied it exactly.
Then he took his place before 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. “Such is a mark of distinction, Sir.”
Darcy bowed graciously. “Permit me to observe the completed fence.” He took up a position along the wall to provide her room to execute the form. She moved with perfect symmetry, using her free arm for balance.
“What do you find so amusing, Mr. Darcy?” Her words brought him from his musings.
He shook his head. He turned to place his sword on the table. “You learn quickly. Soon, my services will not be required.”
“Your services mayhap, but never you.”
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, accepted the blanket he offered, and spread it on the floor. She placed the rapier to the side before assisting him in setting the dishes upon 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 down before him, spooning her body with his, his arm draped over her shoulder.
Elizabeth broke off bread and cheese, placing it on a plate they could share.
Then she turned and fed him. He licked her fingertips, sucking them enticingly.
The world dropped away when they were together.
“Would Georgiana like me?” she asked as she snuggled into his chest.
“My sister trusts my judgment. But I believe she would judge you independent of my affection for you. I wish she had a bit more of your spirit. She is an intelligent girl, yet she lacks sensibility—too naive—too trusting at times.”
“Then you think I am jaded?” she asked mockingly.
He kissed the nape of Elizabeth’s neck and behind her ear. “Do not put words in my mouth, my dear.”
Elizabeth whispered, “You have presented me a world I will never know again.” She turned to face him. “This is another memorable day.”
“It is not over, Elizabeth.” He pressed her onto the blanket, looming over her.
“I cannot send you home without kissing your lips properly.” His words were a whisper on her cheek.
Then he pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue parted her lips, and Darcy became lost to the moment.
His hands caressed her shoulders, and he rolled with her, positioning her to lie on him.
Her heat burned his very soul. His hands moved up and down her back.
The blood pounded into his senses. At length, she broke the kiss, burying her head into the side of his neck. Darcy breathed her name, “Elizabeth!”
“We cannot let this happen, William.” She spoke the words while remaining wrapped in his embrace.
He 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. For a moment, I sought the impossible.” He spoke to the ceiling, unable to turn his head and see the disapproval on her face.
Thankfully, she did not shun him. Elizabeth remained in his arms before reluctantly rolling 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 earlier placed on the floor.