President Darcy

by Victoria Kincaid

Elizabeth re-examined this sentence in her head, but it still didn’t make sense. “I don’t think the White House has shades. I’ve only seen curtains and Venetian blinds.”

  “Wretched girl!” The older woman shook a bony finger at Elizabeth. “Will you at least promise me that you will exit William’s life and bother him no more?”

  Elizabeth shot to her feet, facing her across a narrow gap. “No, I will not. I only promise to make decisions based on what is best for myself and my family.”

  Mrs. de Bourgh had grown quite red in the face. “I will cut you! I will never speak to you again!”

  Elizabeth smiled at her. “Promise?”

  The older woman’s eyes grew wide with fury as she drew in a breath. Elizabeth didn’t linger to discover what additional invective she planned to hurl, ducking around her and retreating hastily into the house. Mrs. de Bourgh’s voice followed her. “You ungrateful wretch! Gold digger! I will ruin you and your family!” Elizabeth slammed the back door, shutting out the sound of the woman’s imprecations.

  Her father was standing in the back hallway, a bemused expression on his face. “So, it went well?”

  Elizabeth gave him a small smile. “I think we’re off her Christmas card list.”

  Her father chuckled as he ambled away.

  ***

  It was ridiculously difficult for the president to go anywhere given logistics, scheduling, security, transportation, traffic disruption, and Secret Service protocols. It was almost impossible for the president to go anywhere secretly. Yet they appeared to have pulled it off.

  Nobody expected the president to slip out of the White House at 10 p.m. through the back gate. The press had gone home, and the tourists were in bed. Evidently, no one had noticed the Beast surrounded by the slimmest of motorcades, only five vehicles, roll on the D.C. streets. Fortunately, Washington teemed with motorcades; there was no reason to suspect this one was special—unless someone scrutinized the limo closely.

  Darcy prayed this gambit would be successful. It had been difficult enough to arrange the rendezvous with Elizabeth. He’d left three messages on her voicemail before she’d even returned his call—with many apologies. Unfortunately, they hadn’t spoken in person. An unexpected crisis with NATO funding had tied up all of Darcy’s time, and Bing had ultimately made most of the arrangements.

  Darcy, Bing, Fitz, and the head of the presidential Secret Service detail had spent many hours selecting a location secure enough and private enough for the meeting. Secure not only from would-be assassins but also from the media. Kinski had asked more than once why Elizabeth couldn’t come to the White House, and Bing had reiterated all the public relations dangers if the media discovered it.

  Finally, they agreed on Fitz’s condo. His building had an underground parking garage, and its location overlooking Rock Creek Park meant it was somewhat sheltered from prying eyes. The Secret Service’s planning had been tight; nevertheless, Darcy breathed a sigh of relief when he arrived at Fitz’s place undiscovered.

  The elevator opened onto the foyer—Fitz owned the whole floor—and his cousin immediately opened the door to admit him. Despite his nerves, Darcy remembered to compliment Fitz on the apartment, which he had never seen, and thank him. It had a beautiful view of the park illuminated in the moonlight, with the twinkling lights of the city in the distance. The furnishings were minimalist and modern—sleek, efficient, calming—although nothing about them screamed “romantic rendezvous.”

  Darcy told himself that was appropriate. We’ll have a calm, rational discussion. Too much romantic ambiance would be distracting, wouldn’t it?

  If only there were some candles I could light.

  Fitz clasped Darcy briefly on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile before leaving. The resulting sense of privacy was completely illusory. The Secret Service had reluctantly agreed to leave Darcy alone inside the condo, but there were agents stationed in the elevator lobby, the building’s entrances, and in the units above and below Fitz’s. Goodness knows what they’d said to Fitz’s neighbors as an incentive to vacate. At least the conversation would be private.

  Darcy mixed himself a gin and tonic at the bar. Drank it. Mixed another. Drank half of it before he worried about becoming too tipsy and poured the rest down the sink. When he noticed his hands were shaking, he made himself another.

  Perched on Fitz’s ultra-contemporary cream-colored sofa, Darcy tried to quiet the flock of butterflies invading his stomach. He stood to stretch his legs. Admired the view again. Sat on the sofa. Reviewed what he planned to say. Said a silent prayer that he would get the response he wanted. Rinse. Repeat.

  The Secret Service agent in charge of collecting Elizabeth had warned Darcy that the process of getting her secretly and securely into the building might take time. But Darcy was unaccustomed to free time. Every minute was scheduled with decisions and documents and briefing books he needed to read. A few unoccupied minutes just felt odd and wrong. The president never had to wait; other people waited for him.

  Finally, the door opened, and Elizabeth edged through, closing it behind her. She hovered near the entrance, her mouth curved in a fragile smile.

  It took Darcy’s breath away. He had forgotten her effect on him.

  Her light blue dress somehow made her eyes even greener, and although the sandals had a low heel, they somehow rendered her legs impossibly long. A sweater was loosely draped over her shoulders to ward off the late-night September chill, but as they stared at each other, it slipped from her body and puddled on the floor. She did not pick it up.

  What a relief to see her whole and in the flesh. Weeks of anxiety fell away in an instant. However, Darcy noticed fresh signs of strain. She had lost weight, her cheeks were hollowed out, and there were dark circles under her eyes. No doubt she didn’t sleep well with the paparazzi camped outside her building. Guilt gnawed his stomach. No other man in the United States would have made her endure that media circus. Still, he was pathetically grateful she had chosen him and selfishly hopeful she would want to continue.

  “Will,” she whispered, still not moving.

  “Elizabeth.” He crossed the room in three strides. All his carefully chosen and rehearsed words had melted out of his brain. He had only one mission: getting his arms around her as quickly as possible.

  He was kissing her without having made the conscious decision to do so. But it was impossible not to kiss her. What he had intended to be a quick peck turned into a gloriously prolonged duel of tongues and lips in which both were the winners. She tasted of chocolate and white wine and smelled like…happiness…home…all the things his life was lacking.

  When they finally separated, they were both panting. The iron bands around Darcy’s chest had eased, and he could breathe freely for the first time in weeks. How did I breathe at all while we were apart?

  “Elizabeth, it’s—God, it’s good to see you…I-I don’t have the words to express….”

  She blinked rapidly, a suspicious sheen in her eyes. “I know. I don’t either.”

  He pulled her close to his body, where she fit perfectly. “I’m sorry I needed to sound so…businesslike in my voicemails. We don’t know how secure your phone is. I hope you didn’t mind talking to Bing.”

  Her head rested on his chest, a warm weight. “Of course not. Bing did a great job making the arrangements,” she assured him. “He mostly coordinated with Jane, actually. I think she enjoyed talking to him once she overcame the shock of the initial call.” Darcy could practically hear the smile in her voice.

  “Bing said he asked her out to dinner.”

  “Yes. Jane was happy. Maybe they can work out their differences.”

  But Darcy didn’t want to discuss Jane and Bing. He slid his hand down her arm and into her palm, intertwining their fingers. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me—especially after I threw you out of my house and neglected to call you.”

  When she didn’t respond, Darcy drew back to get a glimpse of her face, but her eyes w
ere downcast. “That…um…” She swallowed hard. “That hurt…a lot.”

  The bands tightened around his chest again. “I’m so, so…sorry.” His voice was husky with emotion. “Hilliard was apoplectic…and then with the allegations of coercion….”

  She sighed heavily. “I understand. With the things Lydia said…and now it looks like there will be hearings….Of course, you don’t want to be associated with me…”

  What?

  He placed his hands on both of her shoulders, waiting until she glanced up at him. “Elizabeth, I do not hold you responsible for something your sister did. She’s just a pawn in Wickham’s twisted vendetta against me.”

  “But she wouldn’t have been a useful pawn if you and I hadn’t—” Her voice broke off. She swallowed and continued. “If I hadn’t told her just enough to give them a weapon against you.”

  Darcy caught and held her eyes. “If it hadn’t been that, Wickham would have found something else to use against me. I can’t express how sorry I am that my relationship with your family brought Wickham into your orbit. If it weren’t for me, he never would have learned of Lydia’s existence.”

  Elizabeth’s lips twisted. “They’re living together now.”

  Shit. Darcy closed his eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry.”

  Elizabeth shrugged. “She never did have the best judgment.”

  “I’m still sorry.” Darcy smoothed back hair from her eyes.

  “You don’t blame me for this mess?”

  “Of course not. Although I wish to hell it hadn’t ended like that, I wouldn’t have traded that night for anything.”

  She stared at him for a moment. “Wow.”

  He gave a little chuckle. “Do you think chemistry like this happens to me all the time? That was the best night of my life.”

  She peered up at him through her lashes. “The best night of your—really?”

  Inching closer, he took her hand, kissing her fingertips. “Really. It was spectacular and lovely, and I can’t wait to do it again.”

  Her eyes fell to the floor, and she shook her head. “Will…”

  He needed to be sitting down for this. Grasping her hand, he led Elizabeth to the sofa.

  But once they were seated side by side, rational thoughts dribbled out of his mind, and resolve flew out the window. Misgivings were forgotten. Reservations melted away. All supplanted by the overwhelming need to touch her. It was bliss. She nestled against him, relaxing into his touch as he stroked her hair, her shoulder, her neck. Each touch reassured him that she was real, and her presence wasn’t a dream.

  Her hand traced his knee, his bicep with feathery, soft touches. Tantalizing feelings teased his senses, prompting a desire for more…more. A shudder ran up his spine, and goosebumps rose all over his skin. Her touch stimulated every nerve in his body so that every part of him was coming alive.

  Unable to bear more teasing, he covered her mouth with his and pressed her into the sofa. Her body was warm and pliable beneath his as her lips parted. He was drowning in her taste, her scent, every sensation from his tongue…his fingers…every inch of skin pressed against her. She moaned, exciting him even further. His hands reached around, tugging at the zipper on the back of her dress.

  Elizabeth sat up, pushing him back. His hands reached out, but only caught empty air. “Will, we can’t—w-we need to talk.” Every line of her body had stiffened; her hands shook as if they were suddenly very cold.

  Darcy righted himself, gripping the sofa cushions to avoid reaching for her. “I can’t apologize enough for the cameras, the reporters, everything. That’s why I avoided dat—hooking up in office.”

  Her lips pinched together. “Was it just a hook up for you?”

  “God, no!” She couldn’t believe that. “I-I—If I weren’t the president, we’d be on our tenth date by now.” He hesitated. “At least as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Yeah, I’d like that,” she said softly, staring down at her hands folded in her lap.

  “Unfortunately, I am the president.” He laughed ruefully. “I had resolved not to date during my presidency; it’s just too messy. But then I met you, and you made me want to break all my rules.”

  Her body curved toward his. “That may be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  The sweep of her neck was so soft…so tempting…. “I’ve broken so many of my rules since I met you…” He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her skin.

  “Will…” she breathed.

  He pressed her against the back of the sofa for another kiss.

  Putting her hands between them, she shook her head sadly. “You need to sit over there.” She gestured to the other end of the sofa and gave him a little push. “Every time you come near me, my brain starts screaming ‘Kiss Will, touch Will,’ and my higher reasoning shuts off.”

  “I have problems with incoherency when I’m with you, too.” He slid to the end of the sofa. At that moment he would have gladly traded the presidency and all its privileges to be Joe Smith, accountant.

  Taking a deep breath, he dug around for his higher brain functions and the coherent words he planned to say. He cleared his throat. “I greatly appreciate your statement through Lucas and Lucas. It was well written and thoroughly supported my account.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Lot of good it did. I thought it might derail the movement toward hearings and help my family get that contract back.”

  Darcy pressed his lips together. Hilliard and Bing had not been very successful in their efforts to forestall the inquiry. Wickham and other political enemies had too much to gain by dragging Darcy’s name through the mud. “That might have been too much to expect.”

  “At least the State Department cleared the Red Cross grant, so I’m back at work,” she said.

  “Thank God,” he said fervently.

  “But still, everyone just seems to think I’m coerced, lying, or brainwashed—as if it’s not possible that I’m genuinely attached to you.” She smiled sourly.

  He leaned closer, drinking in her faint lavender scent. “Are you?”

  She was breathing rapidly. “Am I what?”

  “Genuinely attached to me?”

  “Oh yes.”

  That called for another kiss. The distance between them was crossed in an eyeblink. After a long silence, he pulled away, giving her a tentative smile. “I heard what you said to my aunt.”

  She grinned. “That’s not the kind of sweet nothing I expected you to whisper in my ear.”

  Darcy laughed. “She called and gave me an earful about what you said. The conversation had the opposite of its intended effect. It gave me hope that I hadn’t lost you altogether.”

  “I’m not lost, b—”

  He didn’t allow her to finish. “Thank God!” He clasped both of her hands in his, realizing what she needed to hear. “Elizabeth, I have to tell you something.” Her eyes, dark, mossy green, watched him somberly. “I think…no, I know…I’m in love with you.”

  She swallowed, looking down at her hands. For a moment Darcy feared she was about to cry. “Will, oh God…I-I love you, too.” Her expression was unreadable. It certainly wasn’t happiness at their mutual declaration.

  He would simply have to change her mind. His hands squeezed hers gently. “Then I want to pursue this and see where it goes. You know, date. Go out. Whatever the kids are calling it these days.” He pulled her into his arms. “I don’t ever want to let you go again.”

  She frowned. “How is that even possible?”

  “Well, my dating options are limited, but we can still order out for pizza and watch a movie on the couch. Or did you know the White House has its own bowling alley? Complete with shoes.”

  She was silent, staring into space. The ticking of a clock behind them was overly loud in the quiet of the condo.

  His palms grew sweaty. What if she wasn’t willing to make the sacrifices? “I realize I’m asking a lot,” he said finally. “The reporters will never leave you alon
e…You’d have to surrender a lot of privacy. But I can make sure you have security.”

  She still wouldn’t look at him. Darcy’s heart pounded against his ribs. She can’t say no. Please, don’t say no.

  “I’m not…I can deal with the media.” She swallowed. “It’s…your poll numbers.”

  Okay, those words just didn’t make sense. “What?”

  “You’ve seen it. Since this whole thing broke, your poll numbers have taken a nosedive. The media’s been questioning your honesty. Congressmen are going on television and implying that you’re immoral. And your approval ratings have plummeted.”

  “I don’t care,” Darcy said. “The only person whose opinion counts is yours.”

  She ran her fingertips along his cheek. “That’s sweet…and totally unrealistic. You have a tough vote coming up in Congress over the renewable energy and environment bill. You need bipartisan support, or it won’t go anywhere—”

  Darcy shook his head. “I don’t need anything—”

  “Will.” Her eyes were dark and solemn. “That bill is so much bigger than you and me. It’s about the future of the United States—the future of the world. If we’re dating, it will pull everyone’s attention from what’s important and fuel more speculation. Maybe prompt a congressional investigation.”

  “There’s nothing for them to find,” Darcy said sharply.

  “That won’t stop them. The congressmen who oppose the bill will use the allegations of coercion to kill it. You can’t afford to be weakened by a scandal. If we date, it’ll keep the whole thing in everyone’s mind; if we don’t, it might blow over.” He thrust his chin out stubbornly, and she sighed. “You need all your political capital to get the American people behind your initiatives.”

  The future he had envisioned was disintegrating like a sandcastle in the surf. He closed his eyes as though that could shut out reality. “Yeah, okay, things are bad now, but it’ll settle down.”

  “Do you really think it’ll settle down if I’m visiting the White House regularly for sleepovers, reminding everyone how you ‘took advantage’ of me?” she asked incredulously. “If I’m around it’ll keep the whole thing in the forefront of everyone’s mind. It’ll be a huge distraction from your agenda.”