Vampire Darcys Desire - Regina Jeffers

“Fitzwilliam?” she said hoarsely.

He tightened the straps on the saddle, refusing to look at her. “Yes?”

“Do you enjoy flirting with me as much as I do with you?”

Darcy held back a burst of laughter.“Vixen, I do not know how I ever lived without it.”

For the next two days, they continued with their secret meetings. Fencing lessons proceeded as before; Elizabeth’s enthusiasm fascinated Darcy.They laughed; they played; they kissed. Meeting in the conservatory, they found an out-of-the-way bench, which observers could not see without entering the room. There, Darcy and Elizabeth spent time simply talking, enjoying the company and the exchange of ideas. He never found anyone as interesting as she was; Elizabeth never felt such acceptance from a man—never criticizing her beliefs, although he obviously did not always agree with her.

Darcy explained his plans for his estate; he shared his frustrations in raising Georgiana. Elizabeth spoke of her dreams of traveling, and she vented about the “silliness” of her mother and siblings, especially when it came to finding mates for all the Bennet sisters. They were friends; Darcy and Elizabeth had built a trust.

Their time alone became more noticeable to the others, although no one knew the true extent of their blossoming relationship. By silent agreement, around others, they still sniped at each other. Caroline Bingley, vexed by what she could not identify, undermined Elizabeth every chance she got; Elizabeth found Miss Bingley’s jealousy amusing and amplified each situation by feigning an ignorance of rank and consequence. Darcy fought to keep a neutral countenance during each exchange.

One particular evening, Caroline’s plan backfired. She hoped to demonstrate her superiority over Elizabeth Bennet by walking elegantly about the parlor.When Darcy took no notice, Caroline, in desperation, turned to Elizabeth and said, “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room.”

Caroline’s declaration surprised Elizabeth, but seeing the chance to befuddle her hostess, she agreed to it. Miss Bingley succeeded no less in the real object of her civility; Mr. Darcy looked up. He was as much aware to the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth herself could be, and unconsciously closed his book.Watching Elizabeth Bennet side-by-side with Caroline Bingley would give him a his Elizabeth. Plus, how they reacted towards each other could allay gossip.

Having his attention at last, Caroline asked, “Will you not join us, Mr. Darcy?” He considered how Caroline might feel if he stood and took Elizabeth’s hand and placed it on his arm to walk with her alone. Elizabeth must have understood his thoughts because she stifled a laugh.

He fought the urge to ridicule Miss Bingley’s play. “You could but have two motives in choosing to walk about the room, and I would interfere with both.”

Elizabeth saw his eyes flash with anticipation. Poor Caroline Bingley, she thought. She would never understand this man!

“Whatever could he mean, Miss Eliza?”

Elizabeth took pity on the woman. “He means to be severe on us.” She looked at Darcy and pursed her lips. “The surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.” But Elizabeth knew that Caroline could not let it go.

“Oh, please tell us, Mr. Darcy,” Caroline pleaded.

Darcy leaned back in his chair.“I have not the smallest objection of explaining.You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking.” Darcy’s lips turned up in a smile. He paused for a dramatic effect.“If the first, I should be completely in your way; if the second, I can admire you better from here.”

Caroline pretended shock, but Elizabeth expected as much. He loved to twist the spoken word. “How shall we punish him?” she called to Elizabeth.

“Nothing so easy,” Elizabeth taunted. “We can all plague and punish one another.Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”

“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at,” protested Caroline.

Elizabeth inquired lightly, “Then you think him to have no imperfections?” Darcy flinched. Had he made a mistake in trusting Elizabeth? She circled where he sat before she spoke again. He felt

“I made no such pretension. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.” Darcy commented dryly, attempting to distract himself from his lust. He wondered if she comprehended his double meaning. Did Elizabeth truly understand him? “My temper I dare not vouch for.—It is, I believe, too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against me. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost for ever.”

“I would not wish to be a recipient of your wrath, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth thought she might like to be the recipient of something else, but not his temper. “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” She started away from him. “Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?” She gazed at him intently over her shoulder.

“Agree, Miss Elizabeth?” He smiled seductively.“We rarely agree.”

“Do you have a need to hate everyone?” she challenged, his superior attitude causing irritation.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably. Hate? All he wanted now was to touch her.“You, Miss Elizabeth, willfully misunderstand me.”

“I will provide you the opportunity, Sir, to convince me otherwise,” she taunted.

Before he could respond again, Caroline cut them off with a call to her sister for some music. Darcy, reluctantly, returned to his book.

Elizabeth took up her embroidery again. His words shook her sense of well-being. Does Mr. Darcy really think that I misunderstand him? Elizabeth felt she truly knew the man.There was a time when she thought he might be the man who had killed three young women in and about Derbyshire, but no more. He could be

Elizabeth and Jane Bennet would return to Longbourn on the morrow. Darcy was loath to see his and Elizabeth’s time together end.

For their last evening, they took up residence on a settee in the alcove of Charles’s study.The household had been asleep for hours, but they chatted on. “Do you not see, Elizabeth, Wellesley must make a stand, or Napoleon will march right to King George’s door.”

“But the number of lives!” she protested.“So many men killed.”

“The numbers would be great,” he conceded.

They sat on either end of the furniture. Darcy stretched out his legs in front of him. Elizabeth, on the other hand, draped her legs over his lap, and he lightly massaged the arch of her foot. An outsider might think them to be an example of perfect marital harmony. After a long silence, he spoke the words that neither of them wanted to say:“You return to Longbourn tomorrow?”

“Jane is well, and we cannot intrude on Mr. Bingley’s kindness any longer.” Impulsively, she drew up her legs, tucking them under her and sitting up straighter, symbolically withdrawing from his touch.“We leave after services tomorrow.”

Darcy sat up also, straightening his waistcoat and jacket.“I see,” he mumbled.

“We knew it had to end.”The silence roared in her ears.

Darcy removed imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Of course. It was expected.”

Before they could say anything else, they heard someone in the hall. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and plastered herself to the wall so no one would see her. Darcy stepped forward into the room and into the light.“Miss—Miss Bingley!” he stammered.

“Mr. Darcy!” she gasped. “I did not expect to find you here. I came down for a book, but saw the reflection of the candle and came to investigate.”

Darcy knew that she lied. First, Caroline Bingley never read unless someone made her; and, second, she could not see the reflected single candle under the closed door. However, he would not let her find Elizabeth here. “I hoped Charles had some of that excellent brandy we shared earlier.” He held up the glass he had left on the table to indicate the truth of his words. “As you can see, I found it; but now it is late.Why do you not let me show you back to your room, Miss Bingley?”

“We could sit and talk for awhile.” Caroline started for a chair. Out of the corner of his eye, Darcy saw Elizabeth cling closer to the wall, trying to become invisible.

He sprang forward and caught her arm, forcibly turning Caroline as he spoke. “Miss Bingley, you know that is not possible. It is too forward even for intimate friends, such as you and me, to spend time alone, and my breeding will not allow a lady to remain unescorted. I have the candle”—he reached for the one in her hand—“and I insist you let me see you upstairs.” He hustled her towards the door. Caroline nearly tripped, but he supported her.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, you are most kind,” she said, simpering.

“Think nothing of it, Miss Bingley.”

Darcy hated to leave Elizabeth to find her own way to her room; he took great pleasure in kissing her good night. Her soft lips left a trail of fire over his; such thoughts brought a moan to his lips, but he stifled it. Leading Miss Bingley to her door, he bid her a pleasant night before heading for his own room. He could not turn around. Caroline Bingley would smudge Elizabeth’s reputation if she saw them together.

Elizabeth waited a quarter hour before she made her way to the servants’ staircase. She and Darcy normally returned to their rooms via the servants’ narrow stairway. He took Miss Bingley up the main staircase, some distance away from the stairs Elizabeth now climbed. She admired his sense of honor—the way he protected her. Elizabeth hoped they might continue to meet at the manor house as they planned, but they would have to be careful. It would not be as easy as the past few days. Slipping quietly into her room,

Darcy paced his room. Despising the way he left Elizabeth, he could think of nothing but her. “I wonder,” he said, running his fingers through his hair as if to clear his mind. He knew he could do it, but Darcy never tapped into his “powers,” those he inherited along with the curse. He could suspend time. No one would know he was there; he could transport himself to Elizabeth’s room without physically leaving the one he was in.Yet should he dare? Would she welcome me? Without dwelling any longer on the possibilities, Darcy cleared his mind and forced all his energies into moving through the hallways unseen. Like a vortex sucking in time and space, his mind projected a conjuration, beguiling those who slept in each of the rooms he mentally touched.

Silently, he entered where Elizabeth slept. He crept slowly to the bed’s edge—moving without sound. 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—the chin, which she loved to raise in defiance. 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; she slept so soundly. Instead of touching her again, he pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat, watching her. He took great pleasure in watching Elizabeth sleep—the evenness of her breathing eased the anxiety he felt since leaving her in the study.

Her subconscious knew he was there; Elizabeth dreamed of him—dreamed of Darcy’s eyes on her.The image made her smile. What she would not give to open her eyes and find him in the room! Slits of fractured light brought her forward to meet wakefulness, although she fought to remain asleep and glory in his gaze. Yet something unknown called to her, and Elizabeth’s eyes

When Darcy clasped her hand in his, the realization of what he did—where he was—shot through Elizabeth, and she bolted upright. “Mr. Darcy!” she gasped, “What are you doing here—in my room?”

Darcy smiled—she had not screamed out—not that it would matter after his enchantment.“Watching you sleep,Vixen.”

She clasped the sheet to her chest in an attempt at modesty, not remembering he had seen her in her nightgown previously, but Darcy did not protest. Elizabeth pushed her hair from her eyes. “How did you get in here? I locked the door!”

“Can you comprehend I possess 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, my temptress. But I did not want our night to end with my escorting Caroline Bingley to her room.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed, but her eyes never left his. His icy blue ones searched hers as if he could read her innermost thoughts. “I dreamed you watched over me, and when I woke, there you were. Is that possible?”

“Is what possible,Vixen?” His fingertips circled the outline of her palm.

She whispered,“Such a connection?”

Darcy shook his head.“I cannot say—I do not know. I never used my powers before. But I could not leave you tonight of all nights.”

“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 latent—resting beneath the surface. Focusing my energies allows 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 split—a narrow opening—it is like falling into quicksand—the grains of time swirling about—moving, but standing still at the same time. If

Quickly putting together the facts, Elizabeth noted, “I suppose that is how Evil finds its victims.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Elizabeth. These powers might be how others trick their human sacrifices, but I never used them before tonight.”

“I do not fear you, Fitzwilliam,” she assured him. “I simply thought out loud.This is all so new to me; I did things in the past week I never considered doing before.”

“I understand.” Darcy touched her lips with his fingertips.Then he lowered his head to kiss her lightly.The darkness held a light—a brightness shining from each of them.

“Fitzwilliam, 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 Darcy’s neck, pulling him close. “No, let us not forget the kissing.” Her words shot through him. He kissed her again, searching her mouth with his tongue.

When they broke apart, he started to pull away.“I must leave.”

“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—one parallel to this one, where only they existed.