Darcy in Hollywood

by Victoria Kincaid

  He had expected Elizabeth to sleep once they were in a moving vehicle, and she did doze for a few minutes, but she awakened when they stopped at a traffic light. “Will?” She blinked muzzily at him.

  He took her hand in his. “Don’t worry, you’re safe. I’m taking you home—to my home.”

  A corner of her mouth quirked up. “What’s safe about that?”

  “You’re completely safe with me,” he told her earnestly.

  Her head lolled against the back of the seat. “I thought you wanted a one-night stand.” She wriggled suggestively in her skin-tight black dress.

  Darcy prayed for strength. “Not when you’re drunk.”

  She blinked again. “I’m drunk?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh. That doesn’t happen very often.” She held up a shaky hand in front of her face as if observing the effects of a science experiment. “I am drunk.” She giggled. “I’m drunk! I’m drrrunnnk! Did you hear that I’m drunk?”

  Darcy couldn’t help laughing. “Half of L.A. heard that you’re drunk.”

  “Do you have a nice house?” She cuddled against him with an abandon she never would have displayed when sober. A better man would have felt guilty for enjoying it. “Of course, you do! Of course, it’s nice. Never mind.”

  “It’s actually my family’s estate, Pemberley, outside the city. My parents don’t use it much anymore. They’re usually in Europe.”

  “Sounds nice.” Elizabeth’s eyelids drooped.

  “Why don’t you rest a little, Elizabeth?” He drew her head down to his shoulder. “It’ll take us a while to get there.”

  “I don’t think I’m sleepy,” she said with a wide yawn.

  “Give it a try.” Within minutes she was asleep, still curled against him.

  He couldn’t imagine a pleasanter feeling.

  ***

  Darcy had worried he would have to carry Elizabeth into Pemberley, but the nap in the car gave her enough energy to walk (well, stumble) under her own steam, although she needed his guidance and support to navigate Pemberley’s grand front entrance with its ten-foot doors. Raoul followed at a discreet distance in case his help was needed.

  Lights on sensors came on automatically as Darcy led Elizabeth into the marble-clad front hallway. She staggered to a nearby bench and collapsed onto it gratefully. Raoul closed the door softly behind them. “Do you need any help, sir?”

  Darcy didn’t owe his chauffeur any explanation, but—all jokes aside—he didn’t want the man to think he was taking advantage of a drunken woman. “Her sister was in a bad car accident, and her parents blame her for it. She didn’t want to go home.”

  Raoul regarded her sympathetically. “I would say not, poor thing. Is there anything else I can do?”

  “No, you can retire for the night. I probably won’t need you until midday at the earliest.” Raoul and the gardener had quarters in the gatehouse near the front of the property.

  “Very good. Good night, sir.” Raoul slipped out the front door.

  Elizabeth had slumped over and was in danger of sliding completely off the bench. Darcy swung her into his arms and carried her up Pemberley’s grand staircase. On the second floor, he vacillated between putting her in a guest room or with him in the master bedroom. However, if she got sick during the night, he didn’t want her to be alone. Master bedroom it was.

  He laid her gently on one side of his massive bed and slipped her high heels off her feet, trying not to notice how shapely her legs were. He considered removing her dress, but what would she think if she woke up naked? She’d be quite justified in slapping his face. Not to mention that Darcy wanted to avoid temptation rather than increase it. Fortunately, the dress was made of a stretchy fabric that didn’t seem terribly uncomfortable.

  In the bathroom, Darcy changed into a loose t-shirt and boxers and brushed his teeth. When he returned, Elizabeth was awake, lying on her back and staring at the chandelier over the four-poster bed. “Oh, this is a bedroom!” she exclaimed. “This is a bed.” Sitting up, she peered at him owlishly. Her delightfully disheveled hair gave her a wanton aspect that Darcy found far too appealing.

  He couldn’t help chuckling. “Indeed. And I think you need to sleep.”

  “I’m not sleepy.” She scooted to the side of the bed, heedless of how it made her dress hitch up around her hips, and dangled her legs over the edge. “You have the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. Sometimes they’re like the summer sky, but when it’s dark like now…they’re like a deep, clear mountain lake.” Leaning closer to him, she threw both arms around his neck and stared up into his face.

  “You are drunk.” He tried to remove her arms, but she clung to him like a limpet.

  “Yes, I am, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t handsome.”

  A thrill raced through him. He had suspected Elizabeth was attracted to him, but she had never said as much. “And your hair…” Her hand combed through the longer parts on the top of his head. “It’s as soft as I always imagined.”

  Her fingers caressed his cheek and skimmed over his lips. Darcy closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations. Under other circumstances, he would take these actions as an invitation. Now he willed himself to inaction, but it wasn’t easy. As he stared at her dress, he could imagine twenty ways to remove it.

  And now he was painfully aroused.

  He closed his eyes, trying to think of nothing but very old nuns.

  “You know, I lied to you.” Her voice was hushed.

  “You did?” His eyes popped open of their own volition.

  “I told you that I didn’t like you, but I was lying.”

  Darcy felt a little hope bloom in his chest. “Why did you lie?”

  “Because you’re a sorry excuse for a human being.”

  Okay, that wasn’t the answer he would have preferred.

  Her hand was now exploring his hair. “Why do you have to be such a bastard?” He hoped that was a rhetorical question, but then she continued. “And make me want you?”

  “You want me?”

  “Of course, I do. You jerk.”

  Darcy was getting a lot of mixed messages.

  Warm lips trailed across his neck, over his Adam’s apple, and along his jaw. He should stop her, but…he was only human. Her lips brushed against his briefly. He had been dreaming about this for months.

  Darcy’s hand explored the mass of mahogany hair tumbling across her cheeks and down her back. Just as soft and silky as he had imagined it.

  “Mmm.” She pressed her lips to his and opened them invitingly. Darcy took the invitation, entangling his tongue with hers in a sensuous dance. She was delightfully uninhibited, holding nothing back and happily exploring every inch of his mouth.

  Why, oh why did he have to be a gentleman? Wickham would have removed that dress hours ago. Even Charlie wouldn’t refuse what she was offering.

  But he knew Elizabeth, and he knew himself. Their first time—if there were to be a first time—couldn’t be a drunken grope that she might not remember. Even if she might forgive him for allowing that to happen, Darcy would never forgive himself.

  Drawing on depths of self-control he hadn’t known he possessed, Darcy gently disentangled Elizabeth’s hands from his body and backed away from the bed. “William…” She made a little moue of displeasure and reached for him. “I thought this is what you wanted.” Her fingers caressed the skin under the hem of his shirt.

  “It is. You have no idea. This is what I want more than anything.” He had to pull her hand away; it felt far too good. “But not like this. Not when you’re sloshed.”

  “Am I sl-sloshed?” She slurred the word.

  “Yes, you are, my dear.”

  “Oh.” As if the realization sapped her energy, she dropped her arm and slumped forward. Darcy sat beside her on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair and encouraging her to rest her head on his shoulder.

  She went quiet, nuzzling up against his body. After a few minutes, he felt her body r
elax into sleep. As he laid her down on the comforter, her breathing evened out, and she curled one hand under her chin—somehow managing to be simultaneously winsome and irresistible.

  Darcy didn’t know what to think. Hearing evidence of her attraction to him made his heart soar, but would she deny it when sober? And, of course, he wanted more from her than attraction; he wanted her to have feelings for him. Profound feelings. He didn’t just want her in his bed; he wanted her by his side.

  Preferably for the rest of his life.

  It was frightening how much he wanted that.

  Elizabeth had worked her way under his skin, burrowed deep into his heart, and there was no way to get her out. He’d been a fool to think that one or two nights would be enough to work her out of his system. He had no doubt that sex with her would be terrific, but he also knew that it would only leave him wanting more.

  If only he knew what she wanted.

  With a sigh, Darcy walked around to the other side of the bed and slipped between the sheets, wondering what tomorrow would hold.

  ***

  It was, Elizabeth reflected, rather alarming to wake up surrounded by unfamiliar sheets. They were, to be sure, very soft. The thread count must have been in the millions, if that was possible. And they were a soft gray. Who the hell would buy gray sheets?

  A guy, that’s who.

  Her head throbbed, and her mouth tasted like the floor of a bus station toilet.

  Elizabeth didn’t move a muscle, not even her head. She simply surveyed the part of the room visible from her current position. Definitely a guy’s bedroom. A few black-and-white artsy photos on the walls. A bank of windows covered by floor-to-ceiling drapes—also gray, with a little blue. Nothing was familiar.

  Where the hell am I?

  She’d probably be more alarmed about the unfamiliarity of her surroundings if feeling crappy didn’t occupy so much of her consciousness. What the hell had happened? She remembered watching In the Shadows from the back of the theater and fleeing to the bar when it became overwhelming. She didn’t recall seeing anyone from her family. Had she talked to anyone? Even Jane?

  There was someone… An elusive memory teased her. Will. Shit. William Darcy had been at the bar. Just what she needed. He would mock her mercilessly about her drunken state. Why couldn’t she have gotten smashed in private? I never should have gone to the premiere.

  So, whose room was she in?

  Her gut spasmed with incipient nausea. Oh no. No, no, no.

  Maybe it’s not so bad. Maybe a friend brought me home. A friend like… Her list of male friends who possibly could have such a room was short…like nonexistent. But there was no way this room belonged to a female friend.

  A sigh and a rustle of sheets from the other side of the bed. Oh, no. There was definitely someone under the gray sheets over there.

  Okay, time to bite the bullet.

  Ignoring how the movement made her head spin, she rolled over slowly, trying not to disturb the other occupant of the bed. It confirmed her worst suspicions. Those dark curls and broad shoulders could only belong to William Darcy. Shit. I’m in bed with Will. She stifled a groan.

  Oh God.

  Smug bastard.

  She had long ago conceded her attraction to the guy. Who wouldn’t be attracted to him? Heck, he probably even gave heterosexual guys pause. But in spite of that—because of that—he was absolutely the worst guy for her to go home with.

  If he had whispered sweet nothings in her ear while she was drunk and vulnerable, who knows what might have happened? In her current state of mind, she would have found him impossible to resist.

  But…

  Thoughts formed sluggishly as she stared at him. He was wearing a t-shirt, which molded rather nicely to his shoulders and back. She lifted the covers enough to peek underneath; he also wore boxer shorts. Maybe they hadn’t—

  Only then did Elizabeth wonder what she was wearing. Her fingers found the material of her evening gown, now quite wrinkled. Even her thong panties were still in place. Thank God. William Darcy really was a gentleman.

  And I’m a drunken mess. God knows what I told him—how much I revealed to him.

  No doubt he couldn’t wait to rub this in her face and laugh at her. After all the words she’d hurled at him in the trailer—about how she didn’t even like him—she had ended up in his bedroom.

  Time to get the hell out of there. Call an Uber and get gone.

  First things first. The gown’s straps were all in the wrong places; if she lifted up the sheet, she’d be flashing the room. With some careful wriggling, Elizabeth managed to get the bodice and skirt back into the correct positions.

  Now that she was decent, Elizabeth sat up. Aspirin and a large glass of water sat on the bedside table. She wasn’t too proud to take the pills or drink the water. Grudgingly she admitted that it was very thoughtful.

  But thoughtful or not, it was time to get out. When Darcy woke, his gloating expression would only make her life more miserable. If she were quiet and fast, she could be gone before then. I don’t even know where I am. Hopefully still in the state of California. Well, the Uber driver could figure it out.

  Gingerly, she planted her feet on the floor before slowly putting her weight on them. She swayed slightly, but her legs held. The room swung back and forth, but at least it wasn’t spinning like a top anymore.

  Casting another glance at William, Elizabeth caught her breath. The man was always gorgeous, but asleep in bed…he was like a Greek god. Lying on his side with a hand curled under his chin, he looked very innocent, but the rest of his body belied that impression. The t-shirt did little to hide the sculpted muscles of his chest; the one arm visible to her was corded and firm.

  But his face…free from his habitual broodiness was even more beautiful. She had never noticed the dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks. And no guy should have eyelashes that long. It was sinful.

  Unable to tear her eyes away, Elizabeth stared for an indeterminate period of minutes…or weeks. Finally, Will shifted a little in his sleep, breaking the spell. I have to leave before he wakes up.

  Grabbing her clutch off the bedroom floor, she tiptoed into the bathroom, taking a second to be amazed at the marble floors and counters. What would it be like to see this every day? Would it feel like living in a high-end hotel, or would you grow accustomed to it? Well, she would never know.

  In the closet she discovered a wrapped toothbrush; using it helped her feel worlds more human. Rifling through her clutch, she found a hairband, which she used to pull her hair into a ponytail, and she reapplied her lipstick. The color was a bit strong for 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning, but she felt marginally more presentable, and it helped dispel the walk-of-shame vibe.

  If only she had something else to wear.

  Nothing to be done. Barefoot, she padded out into the bedroom. She would grab her pumps and—

  William was sitting up in bed, watching her. God, he was gorgeous. If only he weren’t smirking like that. Don’t let him get to you, she warned herself. It’ll be bad. Let it roll off your back and get the hell out. Go somewhere you can lick your wounds in private.

  She braced herself for awkwardness, or worse. “Thank you for…giving me a safe space to crash last night.” Continuing to move, she crossed the room to collect her pumps.

  “My pleasure.” He smirked again. Ugh. Get me out of here.

  “I’ll call an Uber and be out of your hair.” Okay, now would be the moment he would let loose with the caustic comments.

  “Please don’t.”

  She blinked in disbelief. Had she heard right? Had William Darcy just said please? “What?”

  “Please don’t. At least let me ply you with coffee and breakfast before you leave. You’ll probably feel better.” His expression was so earnest.

  Elizabeth wanted to refuse, but that would be churlish. He must have gone to considerable trouble to bring her here; the least she could do was spend an hour being pleasant to him. Howeve
r, the minute the snarky comments started flying, she was out of there. “Please,” he said again. “You take care of everyone else. Will you let someone take care of you for once?”

  Her heart melted a little at his words. Was that how he saw her? That was quite…flattering. “All right, I’ll take some coffee. But I don’t think my stomach is ready for food just yet.”

  Her reward was the sweetest, most unguarded smile she had ever seen. She hadn’t known William Darcy was capable of such an expression. “That’s okay. Let’s go to the kitchen.”

  The kitchen could have been shot for a spread in Architectural Digest. Dark wood cabinets were set off by dark green marble countertops and gleaming stainless-steel appliances. The vibe was contemporary but with an old-world flair. The back wall of windows provided a glorious view that took advantage of the house’s spectacular location near the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean.

  Standing at the window, Elizabeth could see waves crashing on the beach, but when she perched on a stool at the breakfast bar, nothing was visible save ocean and sky. They were silent as Darcy brewed coffee, poured cups for both of them, and then set them on the breakfast bar. Elizabeth poured cream from a little pitcher that probably wasn’t solid gold.

  I might as well admit to my bad judgment before he starts in on me, she decided. “I made a fool out of myself last night. You don’t have to say it.”

  But his gaze held no judgment. “That’s the last thing I was thinking. Your sister almost died, and you feel responsible. I’d probably need a drink or twenty under those circumstances, too.”

  When tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes, she quickly averted her gaze. Was it possible that he understood? That he understood the anger and guilt roiling inside her?

  “Yeah.” She stirred more cream into her coffee to avoid looking at him. “I should have listened to your warnings.”

  “I’m not surprised you didn’t.”

  Shocked, she raised her eyes to his.

  “After all, I made no effort to convince you. I should have been more direct. Before sending you that email, I just gave you vague warnings about Wickham, and you had no reason to trust me.” He directed the bitterness in his words toward himself as he stirred his coffee with more vigor than strictly necessary.