Elizabeth nodded understandingly. “I know that story.”
Darcy looked at her curiously and then continued. “She got married two years ago. We’re still good friends, but that’s all.”
Elizabeth felt stupid for making him explain this to her. Then it dawned on her that he had been just as celibate as her.
“So, what is your story?” he asked. Despite the lightness of his tone, Elizabeth knew he wasn’t asking just to be polite.
“Not much story to tell. Currently, my only emotional relationship is with my guitars.”
He grinned and waited.
She grinned back, seeing she was not getting out of answering the question. “I suspect you know this one already. I haven’t been able to find a man with whom I could make a long-term relationship work, and the one-night stand thing just isn’t my style.”
He sipped his tea thoughtfully. “But you’ve tried.”
“Oh, I’ve tried. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just, well, you know, you’re a musician. Most people don’t understand that you have to work every Friday and Saturday night.”
“And that you are going to be on the road as much as possible,” Darcy added.
“Exactly,” she replied, her words gaining speed, “and that you don’t just have time to lie around all day playing house with them. That you actually do have to spend your time composing and rehearsing.” She stopped short and blushed. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to rant.”
He shook his head. “No, I understand completely.” He took another sip of tea and continued. “Have you tried dating other musicians?” he asked with an upturned eyebrow.
“No, I, ah, dated someone once in the business, but it didn’t work out. And besides, I’m so busy with my career I really don’t have the time. I’m just putting romance on the back burner. You know?”
He nodded.
“So, this bad-boy thing that you do, it’s all just an act?” she said, trying to bring the conversation back to him.
“Not all of it,” Darcy replied. “Have you ever seen a stage magician?” Elizabeth nodded. “Diversion is the name of the game.” He held up his left hand and fanned his fingers. “Keep looking at this hand, so you don’t see the other palming the quarter.”
“Okay, I get that, but why? What are you hiding?”
Darcy pointed over at the other table, where the rest of the party was eating. “If you were a journalist, with no moral fiber, what would you see there?”
“Jane and Charles holding hands,” she answered softly.
“And what would happen if the tabloids got hold of Jane and Charles?”
“They would be all over it, putting it on the covers of all the magazines.” Elizabeth frowned. “They would portray it in the worst possible light. Make Jane out to be a gold digger or something.”
“Exactly.”
“And that would really hurt Charles and Jane; they both want people to think the best of them.” She turned her eyes to Darcy. “Whereas you couldn’t really care less if they post outrageous lies about you. You are protecting your friends by using yourself as a shield.”
Darcy lifted his cup in admiration. “Perfect.”
“Don’t you have secrets you want to keep out of the news?” she asked.
Darcy grinned mirthlessly. “Everyone has secrets, Elizabeth, but the image protects me as much as anyone else. They are so busy looking for the outrageous stuff that they miss the things that really matter.”
She looked at him in a new light. She realized he was willing to sacrifice his own comfort for his friends, but she couldn’t help but note that this was another way for him to control what was going on around him.
***
Caroline Bingley sat alone in the dim light as she sipped her drink. From her table at the hotel bar, she could see the main entrance. There was no concert tonight, the bands were all safely in the hotel, and she had made sure that Collins was off the premises. Now her face reflected the exhaustion she felt as she took another sip of her drink, the whisky biting her throat as she swallowed.
She tried to erase the images that she kept seeing again and again in her mind, those of Elizabeth and Darcy: sitting together, sharing an intimate conversation, him holding her hand, and then later, the shy way he had put his arm around her as he led her to the hotel elevators. That was when Caroline decided she needed a drink.
She slumped back in her chair. She knew it had only been a matter of time. If she had been in Elizabeth’s shoes, she would have been all over Darcy right away, like white on rice. That they finally managed to hook up was no surprise to her. She took another sip and closed her eyes to hide the stinging.
When she opened them again, she saw a pair of blue eyes sitting across from her, watching her patiently. “Do you mind?” a voice with a soft London twang asked.
Caroline shook her head. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks,” he said slowly. “You look pretty beat.”
Caroline rolled her eyes and sighed tiredly. “You heard what happened?”
He nodded. Caroline had long ago learned that Faust had a remarkable information network. She was impressed by his ability to always know what was going on while remaining unseen. Except when she needed him, then he would be right where she wanted him. He had also shown a discretion that had bordered on saintly, which had earned her trust.
Caroline sighed. “Collins is gone, I have no idea what is going on with Richard, and Darcy…” she trailed off.
“I know,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of sympathy.
Caroline rubbed her forehead. “I keep asking myself why? Why her? Why not—” She broke off with a bitter grimace. “Sorry.”
Faust shook his head. “Go on,” he commanded in a gentle voice.
“What more is there to say? I love him. He doesn’t love me. And now he loves her. Old story really.” She took a sip of her drink and sighed. “I’m tired. I’m tired of killing myself for this job, and I’m tired of hurting.”
“Caro, you need to understand something.” He spoke in a way that demanded her attention, his voice vital and earnest. “You are an intelligent, competent, beautiful woman. Darcy may not see that, but that doesn’t mean that others don’t.”
Caroline’s blue eyes searched his. Her blond hair was still in the tight knot she usually wore it in, but at this point, a few tendrils had escaped and were framing the sides of her slender face. “Thank you, Faust,” she whispered.
He reached across the table and lightly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. Caroline closed her eyes, her breath slowing as she felt the effect of the simple human contact that she denied herself so long.
“Come on,” he said softly. Together they rose and left the bar.
***
Elizabeth smiled to herself when Darcy slipped his arm discreetly around her waist. It was flattering. She now had undeniable proof that he found her attractive.
Together they waited for a private elevator, both craving some time apart from the others. The door closed on them and he kissed her once again, but this time it was different; this time they both knew what they were doing; both were fully aware of their actions.
“Lizzy,” he whispered between kisses, as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m afraid I have to disagree with your ideas about romance and career not mixing. I think we could mix very well, Lizzy,” he said as he kissed her again.
His lips were so soft on hers and he drew out of her an intense longing, even as her mind was warning her to slow down. She wanted to believe him. She wanted just to be with him. She wanted to give herself to him and damn the consequences.
The shrill ringing of his cell phone broke into their awareness. He kissed her again, and she sighed softly as he moved back and answered the phone.
“Hello?” he said somewhat distractedly. In a heartbeat his face changed. She watched as confusion, then worry, raced across it, then it shut down entirely, something Elizabeth found inexplicably disturbing. “Ar
e you certain?” he asked. “I’m on my way,” he replied, ending the conversation and giving Elizabeth a quick apologetic glance as he hit another button on the phone.
“Tommy, I need Rebecca now,” he barked. A moment later he continued. “Georgie is missing,” he told the woman on the other end of the phone, and suddenly Elizabeth understood. She knew that Georgie was Darcy’s much younger sister. “I have to go to Choate. You’re coming along.”
Darcy hung up the phone and turned to her, his eyes filled with a distant regret. “I’m sorry. I have to go away.”
Elizabeth nodded, understanding that whatever moment they shared was suddenly gone.
When the elevator doors opened, Rebecca was there waiting, an unhappy expression on her face. “Did you call Rachel?” she asked Darcy, who was speeding down the hall.
“Not yet,” she heard Darcy answer as they disappeared into his room. Elizabeth sighed to herself and went to her room, feeling confused, lost, and empty. She attempted to tell herself again that romance and career didn’t mix and that this was just further proof, but she didn’t have the energy to believe that lie anymore. Exhausted, she went to bed, her sleep disturbed by uneasy dreams of Darcy both kissing and leaving her.
***
Caroline lifted her face, letting Faust cover her mouth with his. She sighed as she let herself relax for the first time in longer than she could remember. His hands were gently running up and down her sides, touching her softly, as he pleasured her mouth.
Caroline felt years of frustration falling away from her. She would have felt awkward with another man. She had actually been with far fewer men than her jaded exterior suggested, but she trusted Faust completely.
The ringing of her phone broke the mood. “Don’t,” he breathed in her ear.
With an apologetic frown she answered it. “Yes?” Faust moved behind her and began lightly running his fingers along her spine and placing featherlight kisses on the base of her neck. “What’s wrong?” Caroline said into the phone. They both knew who it was. “Oh, Darcy, it’s only ten thirty there. Is it possible she’s just out with her girlfriends?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “Either she is just out, as you say, and she’s breaking the rules, and I have to be there, or it’s something worse, and I have to be there.”
Caroline sighed. She felt bad for Darcy, but she really felt he was overreacting. At least she was not expected to go with him; they both knew her place was with the tour. “Well, call me when you know anything.” She hung up and put the phone on her night table.
Faust looked at her, expectantly. “Georgiana Darcy has gone missing,” Caroline explained. “Poor girl is all of a half hour late and she has Darcy tearing up to Connecticut to check on her.”
“He seems very protective of her.”
She nodded. “He is. She’s the only family he has left, and he’s crazy about protecting her. I think maybe something bad happened to her before I joined the tour.” She frowned. “Has to be something that would make him race out there in the middle of the night.”
Faust stared at her for a moment. If he knew anything, he wasn’t sharing it. Instead he walked back to Caroline and kissed her firmly. “That is all I want to hear of him tonight.” He kissed her again with an intensity that left her trembling. “You are mine for the evening, not his, and I intend to make sure you know it.”
Chapter 11
In a darkened hotel room, two lovers slept. Completely relaxed, their bodies intertwined with each other as if, even in sleep, their skin sought contact with the other.
The phone rang, jarring the silence and forcing them to wake. A long arm reached out blindly and answered it. “Um?”
“Mr. Bingley, this is your wake-up call. It’s six o’clock.”
“Thanks,” he groaned, and then hung up the phone. Turning to the woman lying with him, he said, “Jane, come on, baby, time to wake up.”
Jane’s face wrinkled like a kitten as she shook her head and moved closer to Charles, snuggling up against his shoulder.
Charles smiled. Even like this, her hair messed and her face puffy from sleep, she was precious to him. “Come on, you have to catch your flight.” A low moan and frown was his only response.
Charles laughed. “Do you remember only a month ago you were the one getting up early and I had to drag you back to bed?”
Jane smiled and finally opened her eyes. “That was because I didn’t know any better. You have since educated me on why being in bed with you is the best place to be.” She kissed him softly on the lips, but when she sought to deepen the kiss, he slid away from her and got out of the bed.
“Up, Jane! You gotta go make a video.”
“No,” she pouted. “You come back.”
“No time, angel.”
Jane threw the blankets down and posed seductively. “Charles Bingley! Come back here and love me!”
Charles looked over his shoulder and smiled appreciatively. “I do love you, Jane Bingley, but I’m taking a shower.”
Jane’s face frowned in confusion. “What did you say?” she asked, rising out of the bed.
“I’m taking a shower,” he yelled out to her from the bathroom.
“No, before that! What did you call me?” she asked as she entered the bathroom.
“What? Jane Bennet.”
“No you didn’t, you said Jane Bingley!”
“Did I?”
“Yes!”
“Oh,” he chuckled. “Got you out of bed, didn’t I?”
Jane’s eyes grew huge and a look of mock fury overcame her. “You jerk!” she shouted, struggling to keep her laughter from ruining the indignation she tried to project. Charles’s laughter prompted an additional, “You bastard!”
Charles took her into his arms, and their laughter bubbled and mingled together. In the shower, Charles took the time to wash her, committing to memory every part of her beautiful, beloved body. She would only be gone for two nights, but somehow, even that short absence seemed overwhelmingly painful to him.
***
Two hours later found Jane holding her sister’s hand tightly as their plane took off. The plane leveled off, and Jane relaxed her grip. “Thanks, Lizzy,” she said softly.
Elizabeth smiled. “I know I’m not Charles, but I’ll do in a pinch.”
Jane’s face lit up with her “Charles smile.” Elizabeth could feel the happiness radiating from her sister. “So how is it going with tall, blond, and handsome?”
“Lizzy,” Jane breathed, “I love him so much!” She looked as if she would burst. “It’s like every fairy tale dream I ever had has come true. He’s so perfect. He loves me so much.” She looked at Elizabeth, at a loss for words. “I’m happy,” she said simply.
Elizabeth smiled back, genuinely pleased for Jane’s happiness. “I’m glad,” she said, putting her arm around Jane and squeezing her tight, “You deserve it, more than anyone else I know.”
Elizabeth sat back and listened to Jane bubble on about Charles and the things they had done together. Her own thoughts began to drift. She couldn’t help but compare Charles to Darcy, and Jane’s happiness to her own feeling of unease. She now had proof that Darcy found her attractive, and she had exposed her own desire for him. But so what?
Elizabeth was so tired of not knowing where she stood with that man. She was sick of feeling helpless and stupid about it. Everything had seemed clear that Thursday, five days ago. Kissing Darcy had been the sexiest experience of her life, and she was no blushing virgin. Her breathing grew shallow as she remembered his lips on hers, the way he held her and whispered her name. And their dinner together! She smiled inwardly at the memory of his admission that he was as celibate as she. It was a delicious little secret all her own. She had felt very close to him then; they shared so much, almost as if they were made for each other.
She wanted to wring Georgiana’s little neck for that phone call. Rationally, she tried to convince herself that the call had been a good thing. It gave them
both a chance to reflect on their actions and where they were going, but truthfully, Elizabeth wanted her rationality to stuff it! No, she didn’t know very much about Darcy. She didn’t understand much about him or even if she could trust him. She really hadn’t cared at that moment. All she knew, and wanted to know, was that he was a handsome, sexy man who was a hell of a guitarist and she just wanted him to fuck her! Was that too much to ask?
Apparently it was. Darcy returned to the tour, but the warmth they shared was gone. He was the one now pulling back in this stupid game they were playing, and Elizabeth was left out in the cold, fully exposed. She felt very vulnerable and she didn’t like it one bit. She wondered if he’d reconsidered his behavior in the restaurant and had changed his mind. It seemed the most likely explanation. She found herself remembering again his words about LBS’s willingness to do anything to hang on to fame. She wondered if he had remembered those words too.
Damn it! She hated being so hung up on one stupid remark! She knew Jane would tell her she was ridiculous, and a part of her agreed. She wished she had never heard him that night. Instead, she wanted to believe what he had told her in the elevator: “They could mix very well.” She wished, and she wanted, but it didn’t help. In the end, she could judge him only by his actions, and since his return, his behavior strongly favored the previous remark over the more recent one.
He rejoined the tour the following afternoon in a foul mood. In the days that followed, he seemed distant and distracted. Elizabeth suspected that in part it was due to worry about Richard, whose behavior had taken a sharp turn for the worse. Elizabeth was not one to judge another person’s lifestyle, but even she was uncomfortable by what she had seen.
Still, Elizabeth had to admit that even if Darcy expressed an interest in sharing her affections, it’s not like they had a chance lately. Since the incident with Collins, they had been traveling and sleeping on the buses every night. They couldn’t be together then, not even Charles and Jane attempted that.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star Page 22