Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star

Jane walked fearlessly to the mic stand, which Charles yielded to her. Then everyone turned to Darcy and Elizabeth. They would be starting together on the same beat. Their eyes locked as Charlotte raised her hand to the cymbal.

Without an outward sign, they all moved simultaneously and they were off. Jane began singing with a voice full of longing.

Darcy’s awareness was limited to a tiny area, encompassing only himself, his guitar, and Elizabeth. He didn’t even hear Jane or the others. It was only he and she. He was playing to her. He hoped she could hear it, that every riff was for her, telling her of his feelings. He watched her play, skipping in and out of her rhythms, sometimes moving with her, sometimes dancing around her.

His eyes were focused on her, and his fingers required no additional guidance. He smiled his private smile for her, knowing this was one place she could not avoid him. It didn’t even matter that she didn’t return it; she understood. He moved with her, circling each other, her Gibson to his PRS, balanced perfectly together.

When she had to stop before the microphone to sing, he positioned himself beside her, close enough to touch her, as he played along with her voice. This was the time he had been waiting for, the time when she was his alone. There was no escape for either of them, no retreat. He played the oldest song known: a song of prowess, designed to prove himself worthy of her.

It didn’t matter now that they were parting as soon as the song was over. It was only a temporary separation, but the marking he made on her was permanent. She would be his. He was playing for her, something he had never done for another woman, and he knew the power of his music. Like Orpheus, no one could resist it.

Playfully he finished the song, his spell complete, his point won. He bowed low to Elizabeth, his eyes never leaving hers, before they addressed the screaming fans. He held out his hand to her, and as he knew she would, she took it. Together they bowed to the audience, who had witnessed his performance.

They left the stage together and walked to the instrument area. Darcy put away his PRS, not needing to say anything to her, as she stored her Gibson. When she rose, he faced her. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes as he gently touched her cheek. “Good-bye, Elizabeth. Have a good break,” he said, kissing her. Her lips welcomed his of their own volition.

They kissed for a long moment before he pulled back. The uncertainty was still there. He recognized that she wasn’t even aware of what happened. He smiled kindly to her and walked away to the limo that would take him and Richard to their flight. His pride wished that Elizabeth recognized what had happened, that she had leapt into his arms and asked to come with him, but it didn’t matter. She was his, and she would know it soon enough.

Chapter 13

Elizabeth heard the phone ring as she worked at her computer. She checked the time, ten thirty. He was calling early that night. In the past week, Charles consistently called around midnight. Her heart skipped a beat as she wondered if by chance the caller wasn’t Charles, and instead the call was for her? But she could hear Jane’s voice and knew from her tone it was Charles.

Not that she really expected a call from him. Still, it didn’t mean she didn’t think about it. It was a sweet fantasy she played within her mind. Darcy would call her, his voice rich and soft in her ear, and he would tell her… what? She had trouble there. The fantasy always broke down at the point. Would he tell her he loved her? And that he was on his way to carry her off to his palace? No, he was not Prince Charming, not even in her fantasies. Would he be shy and softly ask how she was? Would he be dirty and involve her in a hot game of phone sex? She tried all of these fantasies, and none of them really fit. The only one that worked, that really made her sweat, was when she imagined she would pick up the phone and his guitar, not his voice, would answer her. Yeah, she liked that. She could see herself grabbing her own Guild and answering him. Telling him, lick by lick, what she wanted and how she wanted it.

The fantasy continued, their playing becoming more intricate and exciting, until they were playing in unison, their music loud and powerful. Then the music would fade away, and he would be there, holding her, growling her name, as he pushed himself into her yielding body. She would take him then, take him into herself and he would fill her, answering that longing, the emptiness she knew for so long.

Elizabeth’s eyes refocused on her computer screen. She licked her lips and fanned herself a little, telling herself that her discomfort was from the July weather, not her imaginings. Besides, he wasn’t going to call. She told herself again and again, like a mantra. It was fun to daydream, but she needed to focus on the here and now.

Yet even as she thought this, she wondered what it would be like to see him again. She had been so angry when that song had started. Angry with him, and if she was being really honest, angry with herself. She was angry because she felt needy and ignored. Then the song started and suddenly she was not being ignored. Elizabeth didn’t need to see his eyes. His music and his mouth were enough. She still trembled slightly at the memory. How had she managed to keep singing? How could she have stopped? Darcy played to her like no one had ever done before. It was as if he directed all the power of his playing at her. The song was just a framework for his message, which was solely her own.

What did he say to her? He wanted her. It was so pure and clear a message that it was almost overwhelming. She cried sometimes at the intense memory of his song. Yet she had never felt that it was too much when they had been together. Together, she could answer him, play with him, and stand with him. Only when she was alone did she feel weak.

She couldn’t even take shelter in the denial that served her throughout the tour. Everything seemed so clear there on the stage. She didn’t understand what happened afterward. The way he kissed her and walked away, as if he played passionate serenades to women every night.

It was his arrogance, she reasoned. He could just walk away because he had made his point. And he had, hadn’t he? Here she was, dreaming about him. Wanting him like any panting fangirl. She hated to admit it, but she’d go to him in a minute if he called and told her “meet me in half an hour.” She hated that he was right and that he knew it.

She remembered George’s warning: “Once he finds something he wants, he gets it.” She hated that Darcy messed with her head throughout their acquaintance. If only she didn’t know the truth about him. If only she didn’t know he could be so cruel. She longed to give herself to him, to trust in him, to let him take her, in every way.

She knew from the way he played, and the way he kissed, it would be explosive. Even now, as she muddled over it all, her nipples were hard. And it was so long since she had gotten laid! She wanted to just push aside all her frustrations and drive to Darcy’s house and submit to him.

It was a good plan, except for two things: One, she didn’t know where he lived, or even where he was; and two, it wasn’t a joke. He had all kinds of power over her, and she didn’t like that one bit.

If he reached out to her, called her, or even emailed her, just to talk to her and let her know he was similarly affected by what happened, she could happily surrender to him, even knowing what George told her. But she knew from his arrogance this was not to be. He might want her, but he didn’t love her. And she had no desire to be his plaything.

*   *   *

Jane answered the phone on the first ring. “Hello?” she said hopefully.

“Hey, beautiful,” replied Charles. His California accent had grown stronger over the week.

“Hi.” He could hear her smiling. “How are you doing?”

“Good. It’s been nice being home, but it will be better to get back to New York.”

“I know one person who will be happy to see you back.”

“Tell me about your day, Jane.”

“It was good. We had our record signing at Tower.”

“Did you have a good turnout?”

“Yeah, we did! I think it was our best ever!”