Шрифт:
Интервал:
Закладка:
“Did I not just say so?” She kissed his face, placing small pecks on his forehead, cheeks, and chin.
“You did,Vixen, but I am vain enough to want to hear it again.” He kissed her deeply before withdrawing.“What scandalous events
Without missing a heartbeat, she declared boldly,“Teach me to use a sword.”
Darcy broke out in laughter once more.“With your spirit, your father should have had a son!”
Thinking he might refuse, she returned to kissing along his chin line.“So will you teach me some of the basics?”
For a fleeting moment, Darcy imagined slicing away the strings that tied up the bodice of her dress and then the strings of her corset with a flick of his sword. “I will arrange it.” His voice betrayed his need for her. “It must be out in the open. We cannot meet here at night; it would be too noisy.”
“There is an empty manor house in need of repairs on the other side of the estate. We could ride over, use the manor for a fencing lesson, and ride back. We could meet there even after I leave Netherfield.” Elizabeth snuggled into his chest.
Desire burned through him, but Darcy kept his tone undisturbed. “So you do not want this to end either?” He kissed the top of her head, and then released the ribbon holding back her auburn curls. He ran his fingers down the length of her tresses.
“No, Fitzwilliam, I do not want it to end. The day will come when you return to Pemberley, and my life will go back to the mundane, but until that time I choose to be near you.” She fell into his embrace, and their bodies reacted to the intimacy. Her fingers pulled at the opening of his shirt, and Elizabeth arched towards him.“There is something unfinished between us.”
Darcy’s hands slid up and down her arms and back.Then he let his fingers drift down her neck. At the point where he could see her pulse, a red mark surprised him. “Elizabeth?” he questioned, while touching the spot very gently.
“It is nothing—really nothing,” she said casually. “Just a bit of whisker burn, I suspect.”
In a tenuous, terrible moment, he saw the truth. “Lord, I am sorry. I never wished to hurt you or mar you.” His voice trembled with fear, imagining what he could do to her if he let himself go.
“I know, Fitzwilliam. It is all right. Perfectly all right.” She tried to soothe away what she did not understand.
Repulsed by himself, he started to set her away from him. “Let us retire for the evening.”
She resisted by pushing him down into the chair. “Fitzwilliam, what did I do to upset you?”
“If I tell you, you will think I am a candidate for Bedlam, and you will turn from me. I do not believe I could tolerate the reproach in your eyes, Elizabeth.” Darcy’s fingers circled the mark on her neck—a mark he left there.
“Tell me, Fitzwilliam. If it is a part of you, I need to know.” She would brook no dissent. If he wished to keep her in his life, he must tell Elizabeth the truth.
Darcy smiled ironically, his lips twitching with a grim acceptance. “Actually, it is a part of both of us, but I did not know that until last night.” His eyes returned to the mark.“You said the story of Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender was a favorite tale in your family, but in mine, it is a tale of horror—a plague on us all.” He heard her breath catch, but Elizabeth did not interrupt. She stroked the hair away from his face and kissed his forehead, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.
“It is a tale of nightmares,” he began cautiously.“Two centuries ago, Leána, a beautiful muse of a vampire, fell in love with Arawn Benning, a young artist. She offered him inspiration and success. If he succumbed to her charms, he would belong to her for an eternity. Those who previously weakened went on to fame and glory—but in exchange for eventual madness, followed by a premature death.
“However, Arawn Benning refused the attentions of the muse because of his passionate love for Ellender D’Arcy. Because of his refusal, Leána was to become his slave for a decade, helping him but never knowing where his true affection lay.”Terror and uncertainty flashed briefly in Elizabeth’s eyes.
“Infuriated by the slight, Leána sought the help of her Baobhan Síth sisters. The coven placed a curse on the couple: Arawn’s descendants
He paused. “Shall I continue?” he inquired softly. Elizabeth, overwhelmed by what he said, simply nodded. “Seorais, a true vampire, lives on the blood of his victims. Besides his preoccupation with death, Seorais has one other overpowering goal: revenge on the D’Arcy family. Each generation, he converts a D’Arcy—or someone a D’Arcy loves—to eternal damnation. Ellender D’Arcy became one of his victims, and she passed along those tendencies through—and to—the firstborn sons of her descendants. Her descendants, who are known as dhampirs because they are part human, have the right to choose their destiny. Depending on the choices they make every day of their lives, they could escape the curse. However, no one has yet to do so.The lure of eternal life and the seduction of fame and glory proved too much for them.” By degrees, Darcy drew her gaze.
“Elizabeth,Arawn is the Scottish name for Thomas.Your ancestor and mine loved each other.We are bound in a twisted fate.” His voice held such sadness; Elizabeth fought back her own tears.
She closed her eyes as the real terror crept over her. “Are you telling me that you suffer under this curse as a vampire?” Her words were barely audible in the empty ballroom.
Darcy looked directly into her eyes, trusting her with his awful secret.“I am telling you that I am the firstborn son of my family.”
CHAPTER 4
“I did not think you would come.” Darcy met her at the gate, Ceres in tow.
“I changed my mind several times before deciding that whatever this is between us, I will see it through.”
“Your thoughts are my own. May I?” He reached to lift her to the horse. They were both very aware of the servants watching them.“A little farther today, Miss Elizabeth?”
“You may choose, Mr. Darcy.”
As they rode off, Darcy pulled on Ceres’s lead line to bring Elizabeth beside him.“I am sorry for last night,” he offered.“I never told anyone, not even Georgiana, about the whole bloody mess in which I find myself.” He did not turn to look at her, and Elizabeth found herself fascinated by how the haughty Mr. Darcy had returned. “I plead for your discretion—not for myself, but for Georgiana, and for the people who call Pemberley home.”
“You do not need to ask. Even if what we had these few days ended this very moment, I would not disclose your secret. Besides, I am involved, too. Fitzwilliam, you have to know that.” Her voice demanded his agreement.
“Of course, I know.” He turned finally to look at her.“I would not have told you if I thought otherwise.” His eyes rested on her, as if he tried to memorize her features. “How many more days do you expect to be at Netherfield?”
“More than likely two—possibly three—but Jane seems determined to return to Longbourn by Sunday.”
“What have you told her about us?”
Elizabeth pulled gently on the horse’s reins to maneuver around a fallen tree. Darcy thought it nearly impossible that only yesterday she had first sat on a saddle. She would make him a perfect partner; No. He must be stern with himself.
“I said nothing; she thinks you accompanied me on my morning walks about the estate.”
They fell silent until the house came into sight. “I rode over earlier with the swords. I assume you still wish to learn something about the weapons. I started to light a fire, but I feared someone might see the smoke and come to investigate.”
“We will be moving around; that should keep us warm,” she said, trying to brighten their spirits.
Darcy pulled up the horses. He dismounted and came to help her down.“Go on in. I will put the horses out of sight in the lean-to.” Elizabeth headed to the door.“Do not touch the swords until I get there,” he called out in an attempt at playfulness.
“What will happen to me if I do, Mr. Darcy?” she retorted.
“Do not toy with me, Miss Elizabeth.” He did not look her way, but Elizabeth was sure he smiled—the first sign of affection from him that day.
When he entered the house, she was in the game room. At one time, a billiard table probably filled the space, but now it was quite empty. “This room seemed the best suited for our purpose,” she said as he walked briskly into the room.
“So what will it be? A lesson in self-defense?”
She corrected him,“A lesson in self-esteem, Mr. Darcy.”
He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Self-esteem, Miss Elizabeth? That is not something that you lack.” He strode to her side.
“Ah, you are mistaken, Mr. Darcy. In my household, Jane is the beautiful one. Mary is the talented one. Kitty is the creative one. And Lydia? She is my mother’s darling. I am simply Elizabeth, superior in no way to any of them. Quite the contrary.What I have to recommend me—if indeed it could be called a recommendation—is a quick wit and a biting tongue.At least, now I will have a skill no one else in my family possesses; I will truly be the eccentric, but it will be something.”
“What rot, Elizabeth! I wish you could see yourself through my
Elizabeth broke the kiss, burying her face into his chest. “Fitzwilliam, this all frightens me.”
“May I assume you do not mean the swords?”
She clung to him more tightly and made a peculiar noise—half laugh, half sob.“The swords are what I fear the least.”
“Fate brought us to the same place at the same time. We will figure it out together, Elizabeth. Somehow or other, we will—we must.”They remained locked in their embrace for several minutes. “Maybe we should start the lesson,” he said gently. “It will distract us—possibly even dissipate the gloom we brought with us today.”
Elizabeth nodded and moved away from him, picking up one of the rapiers lying on a small end table. “My goodness! I never expected them to weigh so much!” She playfully swished it through the air.“What am I supposed to say? En garde?”
Darcy chuckled. “Most swords weigh between 2 and 3 stone.” He picked up the matching rapier.“Let us try some basic thrusts and parries.Then I will show you a few different attacks and defenses.”
He set her in the proper position, moving behind her to adjust her feet and shoulders. Each adjustment led to a kiss on the back of her neck or behind her ear. On the fifth such adjustment, she turned her head quickly and caught him full on the mouth.Then she said softly,“Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” her lips lingering below his.
“Kissing you,Vixen, is payment in full for anything I gave you.” His raspy voice betrayed his rising hunger for her.
“You see me when others do not.They see only the outside—the façade I give the world; you look beyond that.” Elizabeth brushed her lips across his again.“I never lived until the past few days.”
“And you,Vixen, see me as no other can.You looked beyond your first impression.You allow me to laugh, and you have allowed me freedom from my deepest secret. It is good to be Fitzwilliam, not Mr. Darcy of Pemberley.”
“You avoid the lesson, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth spun out of his embrace.“En garde!”
“You win, Minx.” He smiled at her as he lifted his sword in a salute.“Let us try a prise de fer. Do not forget to keep your right foot at a quarter angle….Watch my shoulder; does it tilt or drop? That will signal what I plan as part of my attack…Keep your eyes on my face, but see my body’s position as part of your preparation…Now, observe what I do and see if you can mimic it.” Darcy made the same move several times before she made a reasonable reproduction of the intricate form.Then he showed her how to counter the move. Starting in slow motion, he executed the form, giving her time to adjust to the weight of his sword striking hers. Each thrust became more powerful, allowing Elizabeth to feel the strike reverberate through her body.
“Let us try a combination—three basic thrusts and then the prise de fer. I want you to parry each of the thrusts and then fully block my attack. I will come at you quickly and with some force. I want you to think, but—more importantly—I want you to respond.Take your position, Elizabeth.” He paused for a moment, and then he circled her.“En garde!”
Elizabeth was stunned by Darcy’s lightning speed and accuracy. She could barely think, but she got her sword in position to have it slide off his before it flew from her hand.“Again,” he demanded as she picked up her rapier. She had barely taken up her position before he thrust again. This time she held onto her handle, although Darcy’s sword pulled up before he would have cut her. Breathless, she started to protest, but he simply walked back to his position and barked out the dreaded word,“Again.”With an anger she did not know she possessed, Elizabeth dared him in her mind this time, and she responded with an expertise Darcy expected. When the crossed swords pushed against her, she fought back, shoving with all her might.
“Perfect,” he whispered as she still struggled against his weight.
Realizing the fight had ended, Elizabeth released the tension in her shoulders and smiled up at him.“Truly, Fitzwilliam?”
“Truly, Elizabeth!” He smiled in response. “With a bit more practice, you could best some of the men at my club.”
“This was exhilarating. I never felt such freedom. Please teach me one more before we leave today,” she begged.
“I could never deny you, Miss Elizabeth, but we have not much time.We will not be able to practice it.”
“I will practice it in my room. I will find a stick or broom handle or some such article. Oh, thank you, Fitzwilliam.” She bubbled with excitement, her eyes dancing with delight.
Darcy enjoyed her enthusiasm; it made him feel alive.“You will like the sweeping motion of this one; it is called a demi-volte.” He showed her the move several times, again allowing her to imitate his movement. “I will show you the counterattack tomorrow,” he said once she had the basics. “And now, we must leave. Hide the swords, my temptress. I will get the horses.”
She did as he asked, wiping the swords with a polishing cloth before stowing them behind a chest in the corner. When she left the house by the back door, Darcy held the horses behind the garden.“Miss Elizabeth, you are flushed from the exercise.”
“Maybe I am flushed for some other reason,” she retorted, her chin lifted and her eyes sparkling.
Darcy stepped over to help her up to the horse. Before he lifted her, he restored two curls, which had come undone as they fought. “When you say something provocative,Vixen, I cannot guarantee I will continue to act in an honorable way.” He hefted her with ease up to the horse’s saddle.
“Fitzwilliam?” she said hoarsely.
He tightened the straps on the saddle, refusing to look at her. “Yes?”
- Perfect Storm (His to Possess#3) - Opal Carew - Прочее
- The Grail Quest 1 - Harlequin - Bernard Cornwell - Прочее
- The Toff And The Curate - John Creasey - Прочее
- Избранное - Кира Алиевна Измайлова - Прочее / Фэнтези