Mr. Darcy's Bite (5 page)

Looking around the study, Lizzy understood why this room would be a sanctuary for Mr. Darcy. In the corner, there were French wines and fine Madeiras next to a crystal brandy decanter and snifter glasses. Despite the wars raging on the Continent, Mr. Darcy had somehow managed to procure wine and brandy from France, or, more likely, Mercer knew someone who had bought the banned spirits from smugglers slipping into the numerous coves on the Channel coast.

Next to the sofa, there was a table reserved for
The Times
of London as well as some French newspapers. Another table had a stack of newspapers published by Cambridge University, his alma mater, and she wondered how he had managed to attend university without someone taking notice of his disappearances. She knew that he often attended cricket matches, but surely it was not possible for him to have been a regular player on the Cambridge team or someone would have noticed his fur coat.

That is not funny, Lizzy
, she thought, chiding herself.

She then walked over to examine the jewel in the crown of Mr. Darcy's study: his book collection. One whole wall was floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and after picking up a candle, Lizzy scanned the titles. The collection included the complete works of Shakespeare, the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey
, Isaac Newton's
Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica
, bound copies of
Poor Richard's Almanacs
, and the collected works of Cicero and Ovid. Sharing the shelf with the work of poets from Pindar to Cowper was the fiction of Sterne, Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding. One of Fielding's titles,
An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews
, was unfamiliar to her.

Taking the first volume out of the case, Lizzy inquired of the absent Mr. Darcy, “Perhaps I could borrow this book when you are busy doing other things?” Lizzy started giggling. Her silliness was a result of nerves, fatigue, and fear of the unknown. What could she possibly say to a man returning to hearth and home after spending two nights in the woods as a werewolf?

“Maybe a glass of sherry would help to steady me.” She was reaching for the bottle when she heard a noise on the far side of the room. There was a sliding sound and then another, and Mr. Darcy stepped out of the shadows. He was barefoot, his hair unkempt and his shirt open to his waist. In other words, he was magnificent.

As soon as he saw the fire and candles, he froze, and Lizzy froze as well. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room, and her heart went into her throat. She barely managed to croak out, “Mr. Darcy, it is Elizabeth.” But rather than her voice reassuring him that he was in no danger, her presence seemed to displease him, and he told her to come into the light.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in an emotionless voice that contrasted sharply with the fire in his eyes.

“I am very sorry, sir. I have made a mistake.” She started to walk backwards away from him, but before she could reach the door, he grabbed her roughly by her arm. Now she was truly frightened. “I want to go,” she said, and after seeing the fear in her face, he released her.

“Please do not go. I did not mean to hurt you. It is just that it takes some time to stop being one thing and to start being another. I usually have a brandy and wait for a half hour or more before I go upstairs to bathe.”

“Shall I get you a brandy before I leave?” This had been a terrible idea, she thought, as she tried to calm her racing heart. She had no idea what was involved in his transformation from wolf to human. Maybe it was exhausting or painful. Why hadn't Mercer warned her? Probably, because he did not know. He would rightly have waited for his master to come to him.

“Thank you, but I will have a brandy later. Right now, I would prefer to talk to you.” He gestured for her to sit down, but she shook her head no. Understanding her nervousness, he tried to calm her. “You look very pretty. I don't think I have seen that frock before.”

“It is just an everyday dress—not something that your sister would ever wear,” she answered while trying not to act frightened.

“Regardless, you still look pretty in it.” He looked at her sideways and stepped closer to her. “Your hair is wet.”

“Yes, I took a bath. What I mean is, I took your bath—the one Mercer had prepared for you.”

“Well, that is a pleasant image.” Darcy could hear her take in a gulp of air. “In this flickering light, I cannot be completely sure, but I believe you are blushing.”

Every inch of Lizzy was blushing. Why had she told him that she had taken a bath in his tub in his room? Not knowing how to respond, she answered, “You smell like mint.”

After he stopped laughing, he explained that he always ate mint before he returned to the house, but he did not mention the reason. It was to cover up any lingering odor from a kill. But that was not the case tonight, as his anxiety about Elizabeth had resulted in a loss of appetite, and even when Nell had offered him some of her rabbit, he had declined.

“So you look pretty, and I smell nice. Now, what shall we talk about?”

Lizzy bit her lip. What
should
she say? “On the terrace, we said that we needed to talk,” she answered, looking away from him toward the fire. “Perhaps later today.”

“Your memory is faulty, Elizabeth,” he answered, refusing to follow her gaze. He would not be distracted. “You placed your head on the back of my neck and said, ‘Mr. Darcy, what are
we
to do?' Not ‘you' and not ‘I,' but ‘we.' So now I ask you, can you accept me for who and what I am?” Then he hesitated. “But, perhaps I already know the answer. There was no candle in the window last night, and I know that because when I was not with you, I kept that window in my view from dusk until dawn.”

That statement sounded very much like an accusation, and if it was, he was being unfair. How could she possibly have signaled him that all was well when it was not?

“I still do not understand. Why me? When we first met, you found me so unappealing that you could barely tolerate my company.”

“Quite the contrary,” he answered, shaking his head. “I was completely taken in by you and your impertinence, and it was because of my attraction to you that I pushed you away. I did not want to fall in love and risk being turned down when you found out about my altered state. I had imagined so many times how you would look at me when you found out, and, yesterday, I saw it for myself. You were repulsed, and I cannot blame you. But you must remember that I did not choose this way of life. It is a hand I have been dealt, and I do the best I can under the circumstances.”

“But your proposal at Hunsford Lodge? If you wanted me so badly, why were you so insulting?”

Darcy put his hands on both of her arms and pulled her gently toward him. “After being with you in Hertfordshire and seeing you at Rosings, I wanted you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, and it took every ounce of my courage to go to the parsonage that day. But in the back of my mind, I knew that you would reject me because I was a werewolf, and so I went on the offensive.”

“So you made that obnoxious proposal so that I
would
reject you?”

“Yes, in that way I would not have to reveal that once a month I become a creature of the night. Logic is not my strong suit.”

“I should say not.”

Darcy started to laugh. “You see this is why I love you. You have such spirit and independence. You will not be put down by anybody—not by me or Caroline Bingley or my aunt Catherine. You are fearless, and after love and loyalty, that is what I prize most. So now I will tell you that I love you, and I always will. But if you cannot accept this reality, then we shall say good-bye, and even though I risk losing a good friend in the bargain, I shall not call on Charles Bingley at Netherfield Park for fear that I might see you. I may be part wolf, but I am still a man with a heart, and it can be broken.”

Lizzy closed her eyes and felt the stillness of the room, and in the quiet, she could feel his love filling every part of her being. And then she knew—beyond a doubt she knew—that she would stand by this man no matter what.

“There is no window in this room, Mr. Darcy, but here is the candle.” She picked it up, and it illuminated them. With a shaking hand, he took the candle from her and placed it on the table, and he brought her to him. But as he felt her body against his, his passion overtook everything, and he picked her up and took her to the sofa and lay on top of her. As he moved against her, his warm lips kissed her mouth and neck, and then his fingers reached for the buttons on her dress. While he was attempting to open the tiny pearl buttons, she pushed him as hard as she could, and he fell off her and onto the floor. Although she was nearly panting from passion and exertion, she managed to sputter, “Mr. Darcy, you must not. I am a maiden.”

“I know. But I don't mind.” He tried to get back on the sofa, but she stopped him with her foot.

“No, it is not all right. It is my intention to leave this room in the same way I came in. And what do you mean you don't mind? You would never marry someone who is not a maiden.”

“I would if the former maiden was you, and I was the reason you weren't.” There was that half smile that had so charmed her—the reason she had forgiven his objectionable behavior at Hunsford and why she had allowed him to come to Longbourn time after time even though he would depart without making her an offer of marriage.

“You see, it does not matter,” he said, and the fire in his eyes returned. “There are few advantages to my situation, but one of them is that I am the freest of creatures when I transform, and because of that, I see how stupid society is with its suffocating rules. In my world, I am bound only by my loyalty to my pack, that is, my family. All of this nitpicking nonsense invented by people who need something to fill their idle hours does not matter.

“In the wild you deal with the reality of the moment. There are no such things as artifice and lies, and so I speak what I feel. Right now, I want to tell you how much I love you and need you and want to make love to you. I want to taste and touch every inch of your body and…”

“Mr. Darcy, please,” Lizzy said covering her ears, but placing her hand over her ears did not stop what was happening to her physically.

“Mr. Darcy!” he cried. “Mr. Darcy! There is another damnable convention—no first names are permitted,” he said in extreme frustration. “Call me Fitzwilliam or William or Will, I answer to all three, but do not call me Mr. Darcy, especially when we are alone together as we are now.”

“Very well. Fitzwilliam, William, and Will, I am going to bed.”

When she started walking toward the door, he called after her, “Would you like to see my scar?”

That statement caused her to stop, and she turned to look at him. “Your scar? Do you mean from when you were bitten? But you said the bite was on your, um, your rump.”

“Yes, it is. Do you want to see it?” And there was that devilish grin again.

Lizzy's mouth dropped open. “Certainly not.”

“You are not curious?” Lizzy shook her head vigorously. “Elizabeth, before you say anything else, there is something you should know. Because I am part wolf, all of my senses are heightened, and I can tell what you are feeling and where you are feeling it.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Exactly. I know that you want me as much as I want you.” He started to close the distance between them.

“Yes, I would like to see your scar,” she quickly said in order to stop his advance, and when he started to open his breeches, she closed her eyes.

“You may look now. You see, it looks fresh, but if you touch it, it is smooth.”

Lizzy looked at his muscled buttocks, and she felt a jolt go through her, and after looking at his smirk, she knew that he was aware of her physical response, and she tried to focus on his scar.

“There is not much to see, is there?” she said, trying to modulate her voice. The scar was bright red, and barely a half inch in length, and without thinking how inappropriate her action was, she placed her finger on it and found that it was as smooth as he had said it would be. “I do not understand. It has healed, but it looks as if it just happened.”

“I know. It is a curious thing.” After pulling up his breeches, he said, “Now where were we?”

“I was making good my escape,” she said as she moved closer to the door. “You may not care if I remain a maiden, but I most certainly do.” Lizzy scooted past him, opened the door, and practically ran across the foyer. She was halfway up the stairs, when he called after her.

“Lizzy, I have not yet proposed.”

“Oh, my love,” she sighed, “that is the first time you have called me Lizzy.” She started to go downstairs, but then stopped because she knew what would happen.

“Will you not come back so that I may ask you properly?”

“No, I shall not. Ask me after breakfast when you have shoes on and your breeches buttoned.” She blew him a kiss before running up the stairs, and Darcy fought the urge to go outside and let out one of his loudest and longest howls.

Mr. Darcy opened his pocket watch for the fifth time and held it out so that Anne and Georgiana could see that it was now eleven fifteen. The morning was nearly gone, but Elizabeth had yet to put in an appearance.

“She has changed her mind and is holed up in her room or is making good her escape. She said as much last night,” Darcy said, addressing his cousin and sister, who were sitting across from him at the breakfast room table.

“William, that does not make any sense,” Anne insisted. “If Elizabeth had changed her mind, she would have asked Jackson to see to the necessary arrangements so that she might return to Longbourn. She most certainly would not ‘hole up' in her room like some frightened sparrow or ‘make good her escape' by climbing down a trellis.”

Darcy was not reassured. He had assumed that Elizabeth would be as excited as he was after their passionate time together in his study and would come downstairs as early as possible. That is exactly what he had done. Looking in the mirror, he saw that he looked like a perfect peacock. He could have attended a ball without changing his clothes.

“From what you told us this morning, I do not understand why you would think that you have not secured Elizabeth's affections. What was the last thing she said before you parted?” Anne asked, pressing her cousin.

Darcy smiled at the memory of Elizabeth standing on the staircase with her long curls flowing over her shoulders and the top two buttons on her dress undone. “She called me ‘my love.'”

“Is that not proof enough of her affection?”

“It is just that I have waited so long to find a mate. I don't want anything to go wrong.”

“I would suggest that you not use the word ‘mate.' I made the mistake of using that term, and when I did, she blanched,” Anne counseled.

It was another ten minutes before he once again produced the pocket watch. “The time is now 11:25. She has changed her mind,” Darcy said and started to pace.

“Will, she may have overslept,” his sister said. “She was greatly affected by your revelation, and when you consider that she spent part of last night out on the terrace and then waited for your return at dawn, it is perfectly logical to assume that she was exhausted and needed her sleep.”

Georgiana had guessed correctly. When Lizzy had returned to her room, her spirits were soaring, and she was too excited to sleep. She went to the settee and replayed the events of the night in her mind, beginning with Mr. Darcy finding her on the terrace and standing watch over her, followed by that awful moment in the study when he had found her waiting for him, and she had been truly frightened. But he had quickly recovered from his surprise and had put her at ease by telling her how much he loved her. And when he had kissed her, she experienced a sensation that was so new to her. It made her want to slip her hands under his open shirt and run her fingers over his muscled chest. The same warmth that she had felt then returned now, and her eyes popped open thinking that if Mr. Darcy was nearby he would know that she was thinking of him and his member, which, when pressed against her, was as hard as her father's walnut walking stick.

There were no words to explain what she felt when he had lain on top of her fully aroused. At least, she hoped he was fully aroused. When he had first reached for the buttons on her dress, she had allowed him to open the first two before regaining her senses. If she hadn't stopped him at that moment, she would have been down to her chemise in no time at all, and with thoughts of Mr. Darcy helping her out of her undergarments, she drifted off to sleep. Flooded by warm memories and new sensations, she remained in a deep sleep and did not hear Ellie when she came into the bed chamber at 9:30, 10:15, and again at 10:45.

“
Elizabeth
was exhausted and needed her sleep?” Darcy said to his sister and cousin. “Well, excuse me. Even though I have barely closed my eyes for the past two days, I did not go to bed. It shows a lack of interest on her part.” Once again he pointed to the ever-present pocket watch. “It is now 11:35. Jackson,” he called to his butler, “breakfast is over. You may clear everything away and await my instructions. At present, we do not know if our guest will remain closeted in her room and will choose only to join us for supper.”

Georgiana looked sympathetically at the butler. Jackson would understand that Mr. Darcy was in a fit of pique, but that it would pass. The butler had known the master of Pemberley for most of his life and had witnessed many such scenes as the gentleman he served suffered from a lack of patience.

Darcy was pacing in front of the window when Lizzy burst into the room. “My most sincere apologies, Miss Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, Mr. Darcy. I overslept. Ellie, fearing I was unwell, finally gave me a shake to see if I was still of this earth.” After spreading her hands wide and turning around, she said, smiling, “As you can see, I am.” Rather than look at Mr. Darcy, who was clearly out of sorts, she turned her gaze upon Anne and Georgiana. “How is everyone this morning?”

“Splendid,” Georgiana said. “It is truly a beautiful day.” When her brother glanced out at the chilly gray day and made a face, she refused to follow his gaze. Instead, she glared at him. “Beauty is often a matter of opinion, and to me, it is a beautiful day.”

Anne interjected herself between the two staring siblings. “It is true that it is not the prettiest of days, but it will do for a walk. Georgiana, will you accompany me?”

“No, she will not,” Darcy said in a firm voice. “Anne, you are not going outside. You will catch a chill, and then your mother will have been right about how ill advised it was for you to come to Pemberley in the autumn.”

“So that is your concern? Not my health, but my mother and her opinions and which of you was right? Very well, we shall remain indoors and go to the conservatory.”

“You know exactly what I meant,” he called after his cousin as Georgiana and she walked arm-in-arm out of the room.

Once he turned his attention to Lizzy, she asked if she should return when he was in better humor. “I see that someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“I did not get up on any side of the bed. I never went to bed.” Softening his tone, he asked, “Did you really oversleep?”

“Yes. I fell asleep on the settee and slept for three solid hours, which is the most I have slept since you shared your news with me. It was eleven o'clock when Ellie woke me, and I have been running around like a chicken without its head so that I might complete my toilette and get down here as quickly as possible. And how am I greeted? With a sour look and a sharp tongue. But I must say that you look very handsome. Are you going somewhere?”

Darcy went over and took Lizzy in his arms. “You are a saucy, impertinent girl. Even so, I love you. I was afraid that you had changed your mind.”

“If I were to change my mind, it would not be for the reason you think.”

“And what reason would that be?” he said with a hint of concern creeping into his voice.

“You are very bossy. You order people around with your harsh tone of voice or by pushing them about with your muzzle. You may be the master of Pemberley, but you will not be the master of me. I must be free to speak my mind.”

“When have you not spoken your mind?” Darcy stepped away from her, and with his hands behind his back, he recited word for word a part of Elizabeth's refusal of his offer of marriage. “‘You are mistaken if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than sparing me the concern I might have felt in refusing you if you had behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.' Need I say more?”

“No, please don't. You should not repeat what I said. A memory at such a time as this is unpardonable.”

“And what time would that be, Elizabeth? Are you saying that you will accept my offer of marriage?”

“Not yet. There are things I would like to discuss.”

“Then let us go into my study.”

Lizzy laughed. “Absolutely not. I will not risk a repeat of last night. I suggest the first drawing room.”

“The first drawing room? The one next to the foyer where all of the servants go back and forth? If we are to have no privacy, why don't we just sit on the stairs in the foyer and have everyone listen in on our conversation?”

“I think mine is the better suggestion, but whichever you prefer is fine with me, dear,” she answered while trying to suppress a smile.

Darcy gestured for her to go ahead of him into the first drawing room, and so she would have her way once again, he thought. Shaking his head, he reminded himself that he had wanted to marry a lady with spirit. Well, he was about to get his wish—in spades.