Now it was Darcy’s turn to sink down in the chair. He covered his face with his hands. “Sir Lewis is still harming people, even today.” His muffled voice was despairing
So much for having offered him comfort. She went to the sideboard, poured two glasses of wine, and brought him one. “It looks as if this might not go amiss.”
He did not meet her eyes. “I thank you. I only wish I could help ease your pain.”
“Mr. Darcy, do I sound as if I am in pain?” she asked sharply. Shewas, of course, but it was not about her reputation.
“No. You sound remarkably calm about your life falling apart.”
“That is because I am calm. A little sad, perhaps, for the future I once hoped to have, but I never really believed in that future. The price of remaining in society, of someday marrying and having a family, was living a lie. I am relieved it is over, and I no longer have to pretend to be someone I am not. For the first time in my life, I feel free of fear. I can perform small everyday magics without worrying about being seen. And Miss de Bourgh is free, too. I cannot see her being a fine society lady, and she is already considering plans for what she wishes to do next.” She took a sip of the wine, its tartness bringing her back to the present.
“It is admirable of you to try to make the best of your situation, but I am not ready to admit it is hopeless. We could set up a new identity for you, perhaps a recent arrival from India. We can arrange for references. My uncle can claim to have known your father as a child and that he was appointed your guardian after your parents died. You would be completely respectable.”
Elizabeth sighed. “You do not believe me. I do not need a new identity. There are places I can go, enclaves of wisewomen where it is safe to be a woman with magic. Or perhaps I will remain with Miss de Bourgh. She dismissed her companion this afternoon, so she will need a new one, and I am interested in the plans she is making. She wants to make Rosings a haven where women can learn magic.”
“What of Eversleigh?” he asked harshly.
Taken aback by his anger, Elizabeth said, “I imagine he would help me if I asked, but I do not intend to do so. I do not see why you are so troubled that I am not fighting the inevitable.”
“Because it is not inevitable, and it is my fault you are in this position! If I had never asked you to treat Lady Catherine, none of this would have happened. You would still be visiting Mrs. Collins and looking forward to returning to Longbourn.”
“Your fault? I could have refused to treat her or simply not used magic, and the result would have been the same as if you had not asked me. But Miss de Bourgh would still be swooning and unable to finish a sentence, Lady Catherine would be dead, and we would have no hope of stopping the fay attacks. All in all, I think it is not an unreasonable exchange.”
“Well said, but I also remember you telling me in Faerie that you did not want a brother, nor a mother under a binding spell, nor a father who would bespell your mother.”
She sighed, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I do not want those things, but I would rather know the truth than a pretty lie. Well, apart from the Sidhe brother. He is still a bitter pill to swallow. I could do without the knowledge that my father abandoned a helpless infant in addition to binding my mother. Still, Eversleigh keeps saying it is good for Aelfric to have met me, so at least someone benefits.” She somehow managed to make the last sentence sound droll.
“I would have been happy not to know Sir Lewis was a sorcerer.” Darcy’s voice was flat.
There was nothing she could say to that. It was terrifying to realize there had been a sorcerer in their midst, and no one had discovered him. If Anne de Bourgh had not killed him...She shuddered to think what might have happened.
The wind rattled the window panes.
Darcy abruptly moved to sit beside Elizabeth on the sofa, his shoulders slumping. “My apologies. The wind is picking up again.”
How could she bear to watch this proud man brought so low? She placed her hand gently over his. “Does that help?”
He nodded silently. After a moment he said explosively, “I cannot believe this is happening. I never lose control like this.”
“Never? That is a very high standard.”
“It is a necessary standard,” he snapped.
She hated to see him criticize himself so harshly. “You have had a difficult time as well, learning about Miss de Bourgh’s binding spell and that your uncle had been the one to place it, not to mention that she had murdered her father whom we now know was a sorcerer. Your family has been turned upside down as much as mine, and that does not count being thrown into Faerie twice, nearly dying in a glamour trap, and watching Miss de Bourgh perform impossible feats of magic. And that was before you had to face Sir Lewis’s sorcery tonight.” Not to mention having a heartfelt, if ill-expressed, proposal of marriage thrown back in his face. “It would be more astonishing if your control were not slipping.”
Somehow she had to help him. Without conscious thought, she found herself laying the fingers of one hand against his cheek. It was rougher than she had expected, but he would not have shaved before the dinner he had not eaten. The poor man deserved so much better, and she ached because she could not give it to him.
He stiffened and turned his head to face her, his eyes dark with pain. She could not have looked away to save her life. Tension hung in the air between them.
Then his lips sought hers, the gentle pressure making her lips part instinctively. This was what she had needed, this all too human touch from this particular man. She made a little choking noise in her throat as an ache rose deep inside her. As if it had been an invitation, his kiss became hungrier, with a desperate need.
She arched towards him, instinctively seeking more of him. More of his lips, the tantalizing, spicy taste of him, and more of the flutters of pleasure expanding from her deepest parts. She leaned into the hand cradling the back of her neck as he nibbled her lip. The sensual onslaught only intensified as he deepened the kiss as if responding to the need building within her. The last of her remaining ability to think fled as he explored her mouth, and she became a creature of pure sensation and need. She needed his touch and his closeness more than she needed air tobreathe.
Her hands seemed to develop a life of their own, winding around his neck, seeking even more contact. He groaned and pulled her closer, but it could never be close enough, even as she felt the warmth of his body through his clothes. She gave a whimper of protest as he dragged his mouth away from hers, only to begin a new onslaught as his lips fluttered along her cheek, nibbled her earlobe, and found the exquisitely sensitive spot where her neck met her jaw.
Oh, who could have known her neck could provide such overpowering, burning pleasure? She tipped her head to the side, exposing more of her flesh to his forays.
Her clothes suddenly seemed to constrain her, chafing tender skin as his tongue skimmed her collarbone. When he discovered the notch at the base of her neck, something inside her seemed to melt. The cascading intensity of her need began to overpower her. Surely he would go lower, to that skin bared by her neckline that was longing for his touch! But he did not, and she thought she might expire from the loss until he reclaimed her lips, this time with a devouring certainty. She met him with her own demands even as she accepted his claim. As his hand finally began to explore the curves of her body, a swell of desire swept through her, leaving her trembling and straining against him.
