She realized that each and every one of them rose from the same root character: the magnanimous Darcy. As the master of Pemberley, he was sensible of the expectations society had of him and the tradition of his heritage. As Judge Darcy, he strove to achieve the just outcome in each of the cases he tried. As Bingley’s friend, he was true and stalwart; Elizabeth doubted Bingley had ever had a better friend. And as a lover... oh, as a lover, Darcy was faultless. Each of these personalities arose from Darcy’s genuine concern and his need to do whatever was in his power to ensure that those entrusted to his care would be properly looked after.
Elizabeth felt the realization that she loved him like a hammer crashing onto an anvil. She literally felt dizzy for a moment and gripped the arm of her chair to stop the room from whizzing about her. This was so, so, so wrong! Of all the horrible tricks to play on her, this was the worst. She leaned back in her chair, letting the waves of panic flood over her. She thought she might throw up. After a moment, she unobtrusively excused herself and went to their bedroom. She sat on the toilet with her palms pressing on her eyes, willing herself not to cry.
After 20 minutes she had collected herself and was walking back down the steps when Darcy met her. In the dim stairwell she hoped he could not quite see her.
“All done?” she asked lightly. He smiled and nodded.
“I was just coming to find you,” he said as he took her hand and they returned to the bedroom. Darcy yawned and pulled off his clothes, then climbed into bed. His side of the bed, as if he had always been there.
The thought was beginning to overwhelm Elizabeth again. She loved him. She wasn’t prepared to face it yet. She couldn’t bear the thought of making love with him and trying to hide how she felt right now; best not to tempt him. She undressed mechanically and climbed into bed beside him. She quickly extinguished her light but did not curl up to him as she normally did.
Darcy lay in bed and yawned again; he was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open. He would not be sorry if they didn’t have sex tonight. He listened to her undress and heard her click the light off. He felt the mattress sink under her weight, and waited for the comfort of her warm body against his. It did not come.
His eyes snapped open.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately awake. He turned his light on.
“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied, giving him a quizzical look that she hoped was convincing. It wasn’t.
He could tell by her body language that she was uncomfortable; never had she kept her distance in bed. He could see now in the light that her face was too composed; her eyebrows were not expressing her emotions like they usually did. He immediately wanted to know what was wrong and how to make it right.
“That’s a lie. Remember we said no lies. What’s wrong?” He was not angry or annoyed but he was persistent; he would not give up until he knew the answer. She did not know the extent of his persistence if pushed.
“I felt a little unwell, that’s all.”
He rolled to his side to look at her and touched her forehead.
“You don’t have a fever,” he said. “Besides, that’s lie number two. I will be angry if you keep this up.” His voice was soft but determined.
“It’s stupid,” she said, looking away. He tipped her chin back to face him.
“That’s exactly why we should not be wasting time arguing over it. Tell me what is wrong,” he said firmly. She saw that he was not going to give up... another reason to love him. She sighed.
“I was unexpectedly moved by your guitar playing. I am very responsive to music. I had no idea that you could play, it took me by surprise. It made me very emotional.” That was the truth, or most of it, she thought. “And I was embarrassed,” she added for good measure.
Darcy’s face softened. It hadn’t been the answer he expected and he was glad of it. He had an irrational fear that at any moment she was going to come to her senses and break it off with him. He knew he was in far too deep to be able to break it off himself.
“Lizzy, please. Give me a little credit. I do not think you’re stupid for being swept away by my powers of seduction,” he teased her. He kissed her and curled up beside her, folding her into his arms.
Elizabeth snuggled into his arms with her back to him. She was grateful that he seemed content to go to sleep without making love. She relaxed in his arms and tried not to think about her predicament.
Darcy sensed that she clearly was not in the mood for a little romp. She was emotional from the music and embarrassed. He could understand that she wouldn’t want to when she was feeling that way. Besides, he was bone-tired and content to lie next to her, reveling in the rightness of being with her. I don’t need to prove my manliness by shagging her every night, he thought drowsily. It’s enough to put my arms around her and let her know I love her.
His eyes snapped open again.
Chapter 12
June 8-Saturday
“Let’s go dancing tonight,” Bingley suggested at breakfast. Elizabeth and Jane both agreed enthusiastically while Darcy scowled.
“Come on, Darcy, for once try not to be such a drag,” Bingley said.
“I hate clubs.”
“You have not even been to a club since you turned 21.”
“Because I hate them.” Elizabeth looked at him pleadingly; she desperately wanted to get out and dance. Darcy sighed deeply and said, “But I will sacrifice just this once and go.” He sulked for the rest of the morning until Elizabeth managed to cheer him up with a quickie. Afterwards, she examined his wardrobe for appropriate clubbing attire. He was far too conservative and she did not trust his own judgment to select his clothes for a club. She also knew that nothing overly trendy would do for him. She threw up her hands in disgust.
“How can you be so sexy and yet such a fuddy-duddy?” she exclaimed as she tossed aside another shirt.
“I don’t buy club wear,” he grumbled.
“Exactly why do you hate clubs so much?”
“They are crowded, loud, and filled with drunken women looking to get laid.”
“Your point?”
“If I ever met someone I knew, my reputation would be ruined.”
“If you actually met someone there who gave a crap about your reputation, I think it unlikely that the story would leak. The chances of anyone there actually knowing you are pretty remote. You’re well-known by the higher social strata but you’re not exactly paparazzi-worthy. In fact, I’d dare to say it’s probably the safest place for you to get drunk and puke on someone’s shoes.” She tossed another pair of jeans on the floor. “Oh this is awful, we will have to go shopping.”
“I will not wear anything sparkly!” he protested. She laughed.
“You know, it could be quite sexy,” Elizabeth said, turning to face him. Her face assumed a dreamy expression. “Two strangers, their eyes meet across the crowded dance floor, the attraction is instant! She watches him dance with other women, he watches her dance with other men, but they are perfectly in tune with each other. At the end of the night, they finally connect and have a wild, sexually charged dance that leaves them both breathless... ” She recited suggestively.
“Really, Lizzy, you have such an intriguing imagination,” Darcy laughed.
“You’re right. We’ll be far too drunk to remember my script.”
“I’ll call the Ritz.” As Darcy dialed the hotel to ensure the suite would be ready, Lizzy held up her own clothes for his approval. He shook his head at the jeans ‘boring’ he whispered, the skirt ‘too secretarial,’ and the leather pants ‘I thought we were getting those bronzed.’ Elizabeth sighed and marched to Jane’s room and announced that they all had to get in the car immediately and go to London to buy clothes for the club. Jane agreed after a quick perusal of her own wardrobe and soon they were all packing overnight bags and piling into the car.
After stopping at the hotel, the foursome set out to shop for club outfits. Darcy thought it was ridiculous but, then, the whole idea of hi
m going to a club in the first place was laughable. He let Bingley lead him to his favorite store and tried on clothes to humor Elizabeth. At some point she and Bingley apparently approved, because he found himself being ushered to checkout and over to the women’s section to let the girls shop. He detested shopping. He looked at his watch and his stomach growled. He didn’t care what she wore; she’d be taking it off soon enough anyway. Once she’s all sweaty and drunk. He allowed himself a private, wicked smile at the thought.
Elizabeth and Bingley had worked together to get Darcy dressed for the club. Bingley had excellent taste in clothes and understood Darcy’s concerns to avoid anything flamboyant. He had an innate ability to select a shirt that would enhance Darcy’s build; Elizabeth vetoed anything too trendy, and thereby likely to entice all the nubile 18-year-olds likely to be at the club. They settled for slightly edgy, with understated sex appeal.
As for herself, she couldn’t decide whether to go with classy or slutty. She and Jane tried on dozens of tops; she saw Darcy’s eyes glaze over. She laughed and suggested that they meet at the hotel later. Darcy practically ran for the door.
With the men gone, the girls got down to serious business. They tried on lingerie, halters, hot pants, slinky tops, and miniskirts. Elizabeth settled on a pair of black trousers and a deep red bustier with black lace edging. She flung a black jacket over it, put on strappy heels, and gave a satisfied nod in the mirror. Jane found a lovely green mini-dress that showed off her long legs, those long legs that Elizabeth had always envied, to wonderful advantage. Elizabeth took special care with her hair, letting it fall in controlled curls over her shoulders. She knew the tips of her hair would draw Darcy’s eye to her bustier and the swell of breast that pressed against the edge.
Bingley and Darcy arrived at the hotel suite and showered and changed quickly. Darcy looked at Elizabeth in consternation; all that trouble and she wears a black suit?! He mentally rolled his eyes and thanked heaven he wasn’t a woman.
They went to dinner and got to the club at about 10 pm. It was loud and smoke-filled and crowded already. Bingley and Elizabeth seemed to spring to life as they entered the room and found a booth to squeeze into. Bingley ordered a round of drinks and they settled in. Darcy wondered how drunk he would have to get before he would actually get up and dance. He took his jacket off and settled in for a long, tedious evening.
Bingley started the evening off pleasantly enough by dancing with Jane. Elizabeth tapped her foot to the music and waited for Darcy to invite her to dance; he didn’t. Eventually, seeing her disappointment, Bingley asked her to dance. Elizabeth agreed readily and flung off her jacket. Seeing Darcy’s jaw drop at the sight of her bustier was priceless. Bingley and Elizabeth did a bump and grind, with Bingley’s hands all over her back. Jane laughed, seeing that Bingley was obviously goofing off.
When the song ended, Bingley and Elizabeth laughingly returned to the table; Darcy was not amused. He was floored by her outfit; of course he had seen her body, thought it was beautiful. But there was something to be said for the hidden surprise of sexy lingerie underneath a conservative suit. The red contrasted brilliantly against her fair skin, and the swinging curls of her hair only drew his attention to the peeking black lace edging her top. The bustier created a seductive swell of flesh above the top; not an ill-fitting bulge, just a hint of constriction. Which was briefly reflected in his boxers.
Elizabeth pinched his cheek and told him to go get them another round of drinks. Darcy stood up and tried to push through the crowd, finally making his way to the bar where he ordered two beers. He held the bottles over his head as he tried to push his way back and was accosted by a set of twins who initiated a bump and grind against him... not entirely unpleasant. Darcy smiled despite himself, and said “excuse me, ladies.” He spotted Elizabeth at the table looking slightly miffed at him... he smirked. He began to wade back to the table but, as expected, was sidetracked by a nubile blonde of indiscriminate age and dubious authenticity. He set the beers on a nearby table and followed her onto the dance floor. She did most of the work, needing him only as a prop. But he did his part by holding her low on the waist and swinging his hips along to her rhythm. He looked over at Elizabeth, who was looking at him with a mixture of suspicion, lust, and surprise.
Damn him! He had no right to be so effortlessly sexy!!!! She expected him to be accosted by young women but wasn’t prepared for the level of jealousy she felt when she saw him smile and follow the blonde out onto the dance floor. He wasn’t much of a dancer in terms of moves but in terms of being a sexy counterpart to a performer, he was all aces. Elizabeth slumped down in her seat, and then decided to join the fray. She knew he would come back to her tonight; let him have his fun now.
She found a willing young man and began her own brand of gyrations. One song blended into another, partners changed. Somehow they met on the dance floor.
The pulse of the music intensified as the DJ spun mixes designed to incite mindless, surging bodies. Strobe lights flickered giving the illusion of stop-action. Elizabeth was caught up in the moment, swinging her hips, flinging her hair around. She saw Jane and Bingley caught up in a passionate embrace and pulled Darcy closer to her. She gyrated against him and he pulled her into a kiss. His hand went to her hip and she lifted her leg to wrap around his; the pulsing beat set their rhythm.
Darcy was surrounded by a crush of rhythmic flesh of all colors and sizes but he saw only the woman in his arms. She was magnetic. She had glitter on her chest that caught flashes of light. Her hair swirled around her in a spiral haze. Her breathing pushed her flesh to the edge of that enticing top. Darcy caught his finger straying to her collarbone, tracing a trail to the edge of that black lace... and remembered where he was. Elizabeth smiled at him and stepped back. As she did so, she was replaced by another brunette who wanted to dance with Darcy. Elizabeth smirked and made her way to the table. She was perversely turned on by the fact that the other women in this club wanted him but she knew she would have him.
After a moment, he joined her at the table, laughing. They had a few more drinks and were just engaged in a strobe-light and drink-fueled kiss when Bingley and Jane returned, saying they were ready to leave and clearly wanting to return to the privacy of their room. Both couples made out in the back of the cab, hands groping, sometimes touching the wrong person with a laugh and an apology. They stumbled into the suite; Darcy had not been this drunk in many, many years.
Bingley had picked up Jane, carried her to one of the bedrooms and kicked the door closed with a resounding thud. Darcy didn’t notice, as he was preoccupied with pulling Elizabeth’s jacket off her arms.
“You look sensational,” he breathed in her ear.
“Really? I thought you’d never notice,” she smiled, running her hands over his torso. She pulled his shirt from his pants and pushed it up, kissing his flesh. “I love your chest,” she breathed onto his nipple.
He laughed, touching that enticing curve of flesh over her bustier.
“It’s really nothing compared to yours,” he said as he stroked her skin. She smiled wickedly and walked past him toward the dining room table. He admired her behind as it swayed away from him. She looked over her shoulder at him as she undid her pants and dropped them to the floor. She had on matching panties and garters, with silky black seamed stockings. Elizabeth stepped out of her pants, turned to face him, and leaned against the dining room table. Once again, his breath seemed to stop in his chest. Would she never stop seducing him?
“Still sensational?” she asked in a husky voice. In an instant Darcy was before her kissing her lips, her neck; then he stepped back, pulled her away from the table, turned her around, and bent her over the table. She let out a little “oof” as her stomach pushed against the edge of the table but then let out a little laugh.
She was too drunk, all her inhibitions were gone; had Darcy proposed a foursome with Bingley and Jane, she would be all for it. She laid her face on the cool wood of the table, intoxicated
head swirling. Darcy braced himself over her, leaning to kiss the back of her neck.
“You like it dirty?” she smirked.
“You want it dirty?” he rasped in her ear. She gave him another wicked grin and he ran his hands over her behind, feeling the smooth skin under his fingers. He smacked her lightly. She was already wildly aroused and the thought of doing a little nasty made her pulse beat faster. He ran his finger along the leg of her panties, felt her wetness on his finger. He pushed them aside and pushed his finger into her. She made a little noise and gave him a squeeze. He put another finger in. She writhed a little bit. He took his fingers out and put them in his mouth, tasting her. She let out a trembling breath of expectation. He unzipped his pants and pushed inside of her - hard.
The table jolted under the force of this thrust; the silverware clinked with each subsequent push. He leaned over her and covered her hands with his own and said terrible, dirty things in her ear that made her grind harder against him. Each thrust pounded her against the edge of the table and forced a grunt out of her; soon, however, they became grunts of pleasure.
As she began to climb toward orgasm, he pulled out and flipped her over roughly to face him. “I like to see you come,” he panted as he pushed back into her. His hands scraped over her stockinged thighs. The force of his thrust cause several glasses to tip over with a crash. He braced himself against the table and took her roughly; she wrapped her legs around him, hooked her fingers over the edge of the table, and let him ride her to the sound of rattling dishes. She dimly heard herself cry, “Oh my god - Darcy!” as she reached her peak.
The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy Page 13