by H. M. Ward
“You can’t leave now, Jane.” Cameron’s face falls as he looks at Jane. “We need to celebrate. Stay and swim with us! I’ll have the chef make us that salad you loved so much, and maybe some of that pink champagne Beth enjoyed the other night?”
“I don’t know,” Jane looks at me questioningly. “Thank you for the invitation, Cameron, but we didn’t bring swimsuits.”
“Don’t be silly,” Gwen butts in, waving a hand at us. “I packed dozens of swimsuits with the tags still on them. I’m sure we can find something you like.”
Jane looks at me, her eyes hopeful. I feel torn between wanting to avoid Darcy and staying. It would’ve been a no-brainer if Gwen hadn’t mentioned he was back. I’d love another chance to fangirl Gwen and weed out some spoilers from her next book. What finally convinces me to stay, though, is the heart-breaking expression on Jane’s face.
“Ok. Why not? We can leave in the morning.”
“Yay!” Gwen drags me to the stairs. “I have a red bikini I know you’ll look gorgeous in.” She sings the last few words like a deranged Muppet. I can’t help it. I laugh.
* * *
Jane and I sit in Gwen’s room sorting through suitcases of designer bikinis and cover up dresses. All of them still have tags. I make the mistake of actually reading one price and gag. Eight hundred dollars! The suit is like three postage stamps connected with string. How can this be eight hundred dollars?
“They’re freebies from my modeling days,” Gwen explains.
“I can definitely see you as a model,” Jane says, smiling warmly at her. “You’re beautiful! And the way you walk, it’s like you’re always on a runway.
Gwen lifts a white one-piece swimsuit with a halter-top and hands it to Jane. “You’ll knock Cameron’s eyeballs out with this one.”
Jane’s cheeks turn pink as she accepts the suit.
“I miss modeling.” Gwen sounds melancholy. “I wish William would let me work in that way again.”
It really is none of my business, but the words spill out of my mouth unchecked. “Let you? What do you mean 'let you'?”
“Please don't misunderstand, William is only looking out for me. Our parents died when I was a baby, and he was seven. Friends of our family, the Wickhams, took us in and helped manage our parents' estate until we came of age, but, in truth, William cared for and raised me. Our relationship is more like a father and child than a sister and brother.”
“Oh, Gwen, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.” Jane is by Gwen’s side in an instant, giving her a hug.
When Jane releases her, Gwen offers a quivering smile to both of us, before schooling her face and digging further into the box of swimsuits. “It was a long time ago. And I really don’t know anything about it except what William told me. I don't mind that he worries about me resuming my modeling career. He loves me. Ah, ha! Here it is.”
She tosses a red bikini and a black cover-up dress to me. I want to ask why she didn’t take up modeling again now that she’s an adult and doesn’t need permission. I guess I understand Darcy being protective of his sister after losing their parents at such a young age. But to prevent her from doing something she so obviously loves?
There seem to be two sides to Darcy, and they don’t mesh. It makes me wonder what I’m missing.
CHAPTER 11
My eyes close and I soak in the late afternoon sun. Cameron set up a net across the pool, and Gwen and Jane are playing volleyball against Cameron.
To my relief, Darcy is sitting at a table with his laptop, fully dressed in a pair of knee-length shorts and a polo shirt that match the blue of his eyes. Not that anyone could see his eyes due to the screen he's been fixedly staring at for over an hour. At least, that’s what I thought at first.
As I lounge on the chair, sunbathing, I swear someone is looking at me. It has to be Darcy but every time I open my eyes, there he is peering into that stupid computer screen, his lightly stubbled jaw line tense with concentration.
Poor outnumbered Cameron tried to convince Darcy to join in the volleyball game, but Darcy simply shook his head, typing away on his keyboard.
I hear the slapping of feet on the pavement. I open my eyes and see Gwen closing the lid to Darcy’s laptop. “Seriously, you need to stop,” she says staring pointedly.
He frowns. “Business doesn’t stop, Gwen.”
“But you can stop and celebrate with us. Come on Willie, play with the big kids and stop being such an asshat.” She frowns playfully at him.
Darcy’s gaze cuts to me, and I laugh, hands up. “I didn’t teach her that! Don’t look at me that way.”
Gwen laughs and smacks his knee. “I’ve learned worse words, big brother. I made a flow chart! Would you like to see? The word at the very top of the list, the word a lady should never say, is cuh—”
Darcy’s hands fly over Gwen’s mouth. He stares at her like she’s lost her mind. Gwen breaks free and giggles like crazy.
Cameron calls out, “I don’t understand how you can still focus on work, William. Not with so many beautiful women around.”
Darcy’s blue eyes flick to mine but quickly flick away. My stomach flutters, and I wonder if he really thinks I’m attractive.
“My concentration is exceptional, and I’m highly skilled at multitasking—even if others appear to be lacking in that regard.” Darcy is trying not to smile when he looks at Gwen, who is standing next to a fountain with her arm wrapped around the statue's neck like they’re best buds.
“Are you still complaining about the board?” Gwen places her hands on her hips.
“I don’t complain. I fix things.”
Gwen turns to me, smirking. Holding out a hand, she says, “He’s fixing things and doesn’t have time for fun. You can melt on the pool deck, Will. In the meantime, Beth and I will be swimming.”
“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”
“You just want my head underwater so I stop talking to you.”
“Maybe.” Darcy smirks at his sister. “Have fun. I’ll join you when I’m finished.” Darcy's voice is sweet and sincere. I doubt he’ll finish in time to swim with her but he obviously adores her.
“You better!” Gwen runs toward the pool, jumps, and dives into the crystal water. Her head disappears beneath the surface and reappears moments later at the other end of the pool. “Beth!”
I sigh. William Darcy is skitzoid. He has to be. How else can he be such an ass one minute and so sweet the next? I’m not going to figure him out. He’s just a sexy plaything—when he doesn’t talk—and that’s okay. I can live with that. Anyway, he hasn’t said two words to me since our kiss under the tree.
Screw him.
I grab the bottom of my cover-up and pull it over my head. Shaking my hair out, I toss the dress onto the chair.
I hear shattering glass behind me. When I turn, Bea is running toward Darcy with a dishrag, helping him clean up the lemonade he spilled onto his laptop and shorts.
His blue eyes stare unabashedly at my chest.
Gwen’s right. The bikini does make my boobs look awesome.
With a slight smile, I pad to the edge of the pool and dive into it.
CHAPTER 12
Later that night, after Jane is asleep, I use the code I got from Cameron earlier and wander back down to the pool. I sit at the edge and put my feet in the warm water, swirling it with my toe, creating patterns on the surface.
The moonlight is bright this evening. Its silvery rays illuminate the yard, making it easy to see the silhouette of a man pacing along the edge of the gardens. I watch for a moment, thinking it’s Cameron, but when he turns, and I see his profile lit by the moonlight, I know it’s Darcy.
What’s got him so agitated? I watch him for a while. He takes twenty paces and stops, ticks things off on his fingers, grabs the hair at his temples, then repeats. After ten minutes or so, I feel like a voyeur. I shouldn’t be watching this. He has no idea someone is out here.
I pull my feet from the pool and decide t
o walk closer, maybe check on him. When I get close enough for him to hear me, his back is to me. His shoulders bow forward, and he grips his neck like he’s in pain.
“Darcy?” I say gently. “Are you all right?”
He rounds suddenly, his blue eyes wide with panic. His beautiful face is marred with worry. A slew of silent words pass between us, and then he’s in front of me, his hands on the sides of my face, his touch light and tender.
“Beth, I…” his words die in his throat before his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
I can’t do this again, but… God! This kiss. It’s perfect—hot and heavy.
The idealist in the back of my mind is hitting me with a stick. ‘You don’t love him!’
I’m glad I don’t love him. Whoever takes on this hot mess is crazy. For the moment, I’m his distraction. I know it, and it’s okay. Darcy is the same for me. His firm muscles and magical mouth distract me from the uncertainty of my own life.
The kiss deepens, becoming frantic. I’m gasping for air as his mouth moves to my neck. My knees weaken and wobble, but before I can fall, Darcy scoops me up. He walks over to the pool deck and places me in the doublewide lounge chair, reclining it more as he lays me down.
Something I can’t decipher flashes across his eyes. He stumbles over his words, before spitting out, “I’m sorry, Beth, I—”
Yeah, he’s not walking away this time. I reach for him and pull his mouth to mine. There's a rush of heat as our bodies collide, filling me until every inch of my body is humming, throbbing, craving his touch.
Darcy’s lips are hot and perfect as he kisses me deeper. His hands slip under my sweatshirt and along my side. He’s careful, moving slowly, gradually toward my curves. I want him to feel me in his hand, to hold onto my breast and stroke my taut flesh. I flush as it happens, sucking in air so erratically that Darcy slows and looks up at me.
I close my eyes and tip my head back, afraid I'll ruin the moment. My body arches into his hand and the sensation of his skin on mine is divine. I know his eyes are on me, watching me writhe on the chaise in response to his touch.
I feel him lie next to me, shifting his weight so both hands can touch me. At first, I think he’s going to stop, but he doesn’t. His other hand finds my waist, sweeping over my other breast before dipping down lower. He leans close to my ear, whispering, “Tell me when to stop, Elizabeth.”
I open my eyes and look up at him, wondering what he’s going to do. His beautiful face is transfixed on mine, as he pinches my nipples gently between his fingers. My mouth opens, and I let out a silent gasp of pleasure.
I don’t realize my hips are moving until his fingers slide beneath my waistband. His hand on my breast stills as his other hand runs along the seam of my core. I shudder beneath his touch, my lips parting and words flowing, begging for him to touch me.
“Beg me, Elizabeth, say my name.” His voice is so deep, so fucking sexy. The desire to sit on those beautiful lips flashes through my mind, making me moan. I’ve gone crazy. I must have.
Breathlessly, I beg, “Touch me…” Which name? He doesn’t like informalities, but I’m not calling him Darcy—not now. I lick my lips and open my eyes. His gaze is locked on my mouth, watching every movement. When I speak, his eyes darken, and a rush of exhilaration flows through me. “William. Please, touch me, William.”
He rolls on top of me and moves his hands in a magical way. The hand on my breast caresses me in a way that makes my hips buck, but his other hand holds me down, gently stroking me. As he feels how wet he's made me, he groans in my ear. I can’t hide how much I want him, and no longer want to.
I shift my hips, jerking them up toward his finger, forcing it inside me. I gasp, repeating the movement, over and over, faster and faster until I’m breathless and looking into his eyes. Darcy hungrily watches my hips buck into his hands and my head tip backward. I don’t care if he sees me like this. I want him to see. I want him to know what he does to me, how it makes no sense and defies all logic. I stayed. I didn’t run.
A rhythm develops as I push into his hand, and he pushes back. His lips part and I can feel his warm breath on my neck as my body winds tighter and tighter. Heat is dripping between my legs, and desire is twisting knots in my stomach. I’m so close. It’s as if he can read my mind because he shifts his hand and presses another finger inside, allowing his thumb to rub against that perfect spot. I gasp, bucking wildly into his hand, as he begs me to come for him.
I can’t hold it back anymore, and I don’t want to. Every inch of me suddenly shatters in bliss. He slips his hand away, but remains next to me, looking down into my eyes. He smoothes the hair away from my face and softly asks, “Do you know what you do to me? Do you have any idea?”
I don’t reply. Instead, I reach for him and bury my face in his chest, enjoying the feeling of being in his arms. I can feel mortified tomorrow.
CHAPTER 13
"Jane, stop worrying. This won't be the last time you see Cameron—that man adores you!"
The early morning light cuts through the windows of Jane's bedroom, as we wait for the car. Despite my best efforts, Jane is convinced Cameron will lose interest in her now that the mural is complete. For as happy as she was yesterday afternoon, today every fiber of her being radiates despair. Loose strands of hair escape her ponytail and curl against her pale cheeks, framing the sad eyes she keeps shooting my direction.
“I don’t know.” She bites her lip. “After whatever that was that happened yesterday by the pool between you and Darcy, he might not—”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Beth, Darcy is Cameron's best friend, and he doesn’t seem to like us very much.”
"Now you sound like Mom.” If she could summon that tone with our Mother I’d worry less.
There’s a knock on the door, and Bea pops her head into the room. “Miss Jane, your car has arrived.”
“Thank you, Bea,” Jane says. “We’ll be down in a minute.”
I zip my backpack and hook it over my shoulder. “I’ll go out of my way to be nice to Darcy in the future.” My cheeks involuntarily flame bright red when I think of how nice he was last night.
Jane has her back to me, and doesn’t notice. “Goodness, don’t do that. I think he likes baiting you. If you go out of your way to be nice, he’ll think you like him.” She giggles as she pulls her Versace garment bag over her shoulder. More of Mother’s purchases.
“There's something about him that makes me want to—” I freeze at the sound of a sugary-sweet, high-pitched voice.
“Oh, no!” Jane’s hazel eyes widen in terror. “It’s Mother.”
“I thought she was just sending us a car.” Cameron’s house may be huge, but Mother’s voice carries. Darcy’s going to hear everything she says from wherever he’s hiding. I’ve not seen him since last night.
That’s a little bit good and a little bit bad. When he loosens up, Darcy is…a stupid smile spreads across my lips as I’m thinking about him. Darcy is sexy, moody, and in need of a serious taming. I love fighting with him. I wish his business practices weren’t evil. That part makes me wonder.
Mother’s shrill voice carries through the halls again, and my back goes ramrod straight. I grab Jane’s wrist and look out the second story window. “Let’s jump and run like hell down the interstate. No one will notice.”
Jane’s mortification fades for a split second, and she laughs. “Stop it, Beth."
"Ugh! Fine. I’ll play interference with Mother while you load our stuff,” I say, grabbing the keys to Mary’s motorcycle and jogging out the door.
“Mr. Bingley, I apologize for being unable to tour your lovely home earlier this week. Who was your decorator?” Mother talks so fast that she’s not even coming up for air anymore. “I’m sure you had the best. My goodness, the chandelier is simply lovely. Is that real gold on the ceiling? I’m sure it is. Oh! Is that the Phoenix vase recently auctioned at Sotheby’s? It’s from the Yuan dynasty isn’t it? It went for at least
sixty thousand pounds, I believe, which is a sizeable sum of money in American dollars—nearly one hundred and twenty thousand, I believe.”
I enter the room to see Cameron squirming in his seat while Mother rhythmically raises a steaming full teacup to her lips as if about to drink then lowers it, launching into another question instead.
She resembles an animatronics figure in the Hall of Presidents at Disney World, talking and moving whether anyone listens or not. Unable to help herself, Mother shares her opinions and observations about every single object in the room, pointing out how much money each is worth as if Cameron didn’t know.
Cameron smiles politely, nodding in answer to her questions even though she doesn't pause to notice his response. When he sees me, his green eyes lock on mine, pleading for me to save him.
I stride into the room with my hands behind my back and a smile on my face. “Mother, what a surprise. We didn’t expect you to collect us personally.”
“Of course, I came. I'd be remiss without thanking Mr. Bingley for allowing you and Jane to stay as his guests.”
“Please, Mrs. Bennet, call me Cameron.”
“Only if you'll call me Victoria.” She daintily places her cup and saucer back on the tray and slowly turns to me. “Beth, I’ve just heard more speculations that Michael Frey will officially announce his campaign for Senate soon. Has Colin mentioned—dear, Lord! What are you wearing?”
“Clothes?” I plop onto the seat next to her. I’m wearing the same jeans, black t-shirt, and leather jacket I wore when I drove over earlier in the week.
“I apologize for my daughter’s attire,” she says to Cameron with a twitchy smile.
He chuckles. “Victoria, she’s been a tremendous help to Jane, and a delightful guest. It’s been my pleasure having both of your daughters at my cottage this week.”
“You’re too kind. As I was saying, Michael Frey will announce his run for Senate soon, and I’m shocked to hear it first on CNN.”