Chapter Six
THE WOMAN FLIRTED WITH HIM brAZENLY, AND WICKHAM ALLOWED HER to sit upon his lap.
Her dark skin indicated she was of Mediterranean descent.
“You are beautiful, my pet.” He bit down on her earlobe, harder than most men might, but she offered no complaint.
Instead, she pulled his face to her cleavage.
He nuzzled her, pretending to desire her sexually.
Wickham caressed her breast before whispering eagerly, “Where might we be alone?”
She giggled and begged for a kiss, but he despised kissing any woman other than Ellender. Only Ellender fulfilled those needs he attempted to bury deep within. Instead, he murmured a suggestive remark against her cheek.
“Permit me to retrieve me shawl,” she said upon a pout.
“I will keep you warm,” he insisted.
The woman said playfully, “I expect you will, Love.”
Within a few minutes they walked along a quiet country road. “Me house be just down here.” She gestured to a small cottage.
Wickham pulled her to him. “I do not believe I can wait that long.” He slipped the bodice of her dress down, exposing one of her breasts.
“You be an eager one, Love,” she reprimanded him, but she did not withdraw from his aggressive touch.
He shoved her chin up, so that she might look into his eyes.
He held her there with his grasp and with his stare.
“Permit me to show you how eager,” he growled.
He lowered his head and sank his teeth into the tender flesh of her neck.
Tasting the blood, he closed his jaw, and with the strength of a wolf, he ripped away the flesh.
The woman did not scream as he took her.
Instead, she sank into his arms. He sucked and tore away more of her.
The initial fear in her eyes remained as her body went rigid.
Only then did he feel the excitement that a true man would feel.
It was not quite an engorgement of his member, but his body stiffened with need.
At length, he placed the female on the ground to ravish her completely.
Determined to have her answer, Elizabeth set out for Meryton as early as propriety would permit.
She meant to find Mr. Wickham. Fortunately, the man lazily sauntered along the village’s main walkway.
She crossed the street at an angle, with the purpose of accidentally encountering him.
She pretended interest in a fine bonnet displayed in the window of a mercantile.
Waiting impatiently, she counted the seconds until he stood beside her.
“The color would do nothing for your beautiful hair, Miss Elizabeth.” He spoke close to her ear—intimately close, so much so she had to force away a shiver of dread.
They could behold each other’s reflection in the store’s window, and although hers was crystal clear, even showing the wrinkles in her sleeves, Mr. Wickham’s was a blur of color.
The shiver she previously displaced now claimed her spine.
“I thought of making it a gift.” With deliberate innocence, she turned to face him. “Good day, Mr. Wickham. I see you claimed your lieutenancy.”
His regimentals added to his perfection. Her mouth went dry as his rapier-sharp gaze narrowed on her. “I am a junior officer, Miss Elizabeth.” He executed an exaggerated bow that served no purpose she could define.
Avoiding looking him directly in his eyes, Elizabeth feigned delight. “I am pleased to know Meryton is safer than it was this time yesterday.” Setting her mind to her task, she extended her hand to the man. “And now, Sir, I might implore you to escort me safely to my Aunt Philips’s home.”
“My true pleasure, Miss Elizabeth.”
They walked slowly, pausing often to peer into the nearest storefront window. “Do you suppose the militia will be long in Meryton, Sir?”
“I hope not.” He let his smile fade. “I hope the position will lead to a commission with the regulars.” His expression was unreadable.
“I do not know many men who wish for battle.”
Eyes, both hard and bleak, traced her features. “Some may call it irrational, but I live for the action, even the deaths. Obviously, I meant to say the death of England’s enemies.”
Elizabeth despised the useless loss of life. She did not respond. How could she? Marshaling any arguments against the determined curve of his lips appeared fruitless. “May I change the topic, Mr. Wickham?”
“Assuredly. Forgive me for speaking so passionately on such an indelicate subject.”
“Speak to me of your time in Bakewell. I wish to know more of the area in which my Aunt Gardiner resided. She is so dear to me. Anything you could tell me would bring me pleasure.”
“I suppose you realize, Miss Elizabeth, that the terrain in Derbyshire is more rugged—more intense than one would find in Hertfordshire. Your Oakham Mount is nothing to the peaks in Derbyshire. The winters are colder and the summers milder. Therefore, the vegetation is thicker. I am not one to look at things for their natural beauty, but I do enjoy the wildness of the Peak District. It reminds me of Scotland. Other than Northumberland, it is the most pleasing of areas, although the population is growing steadily and taking away the privacy many locals cherish.”
“Ah, yes,” she said with deep regret in her tone, “my aunt speaks of such. She is in London now, but one hears the wistfulness in her voice when she speaks of home.”
“Indeed.”
Elizabeth paused, as if considering her next question. “I could not help but notice, Mr. Wickham, that you and Mr. Darcy hold some sort of acquaintance, yet, you did not speak. I found the exchange, or the lack thereof, quite unusual.”
The gentleman tapped the fingers of his free hand impatiently against his thigh.
“I am vaguely familiar with the younger Mr. Darcy. I am more familiar with the elder Mr. Darcy, for my family and the Darcys hold a longstanding connection. We often did business together. Such goes without saying, that was before the current Master of Pemberley assumed control. I am sorry to say I find Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy a cruel man.”
Elizabeth knew she must lie convincingly to keep Wickham talking, but Mr. Darcy ruled her heart, and she worried she would betray her true feelings.
“He was very cold and haughty to everyone upon his arrival in Hertfordshire. Many tolerate him only because of his wealth and because Mr. Bingley is his associate.”
Wickham considered what she said for a moment, watching her, before he added, “I once saw him whip a man simply for dropping a tea service. He is a man above the law, and the Darcys permit nothing to stand in their way. If they want land, they take it. If they desire a woman, she holds no choice. The current Mr. Darcy is of the same ilk as many of his society. I apologize for speaking so explicitly, Miss Elizabeth, but I hold no respect for Pemberley’s Mr. Darcy. ”
“My!” She pretended to blench at his anger.
“I assuredly did not mean to upset you, Mr. Wickham!” Elizabeth noted how the man’s seductive insolence and intense passion were wildly arousing.
A woman could easily feel empathy at hearing his words.
“Yet I agree.” She had set her trap. If he lied to her, she would return the favor. “Mr. Darcy can be most presumptuous.”
“We will speak no more of the man, Miss Elizabeth.” Wickham took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I am not a reasonable being when I think of his offenses. Let us finish our walk.”
Elizabeth hurried along the road to Longbourn.
She had stayed at her Aunt Philips’s only as long as required without raising questions.
Now she strode along the familiar path. The sun shone brightly, and it made her feel lighter, even after her emotionally charged discussion with Mr. Wickham.
She marveled at her cleverness, but a dark shadow lingering in a copse of trees caught her eye.
Is it a wild dog? A man? Elizabeth could not say with assurance, and she did not want to know.
Instincts called for caution. The primitive impulses of survival set the hairs on the back of her neck on end.
The shadow disappeared, but Elizabeth moved warily to the side of the road, straddled the stile, and came down on the other side of the hedgerow, where she might hide if necessary.
She moved guardedly, given the ground cover.
Unconsciously, she held her breath for many long moments before releasing it slowly.
Yet, she never permitted her eyes to leave the cluster of trees.
Was something there? Unfortunately, a heavy cloud covered the sunshine found only a few moments prior, and suddenly the air chilled with the unknown.
Without notice, pure chaos raised its voice.
A flock of birds exploded from the woods, sending screams of distress into the shadowy day.
A figure burst from the trees coming towards her.
Although she did not wait to view it clearly, Elizabeth knew whatever it was, it did not run, but rather glided across the field in a swirling, twisting motion that made her nauseous to observe.
She bolted. Her bonnet dislodged, and her hair draped across her face.
Her cloak spread out like wings behind her.
She fought to loosen the item, for it choked her and stifled her movement.
At length, she pulled the clasp free and permitted the cloak to fall behind her.
Then Elizabeth hiked her skirts and ran as if her life depended on it.
She did not look back— whatever was behind her remained in pursuit.
She felt it. It nipped at her shoulder. Tore at the hem of her day dress.
A wind whispered, I am coming for you. A vicious growl reverberated through her.