Vampire Darcy's Desire

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.”The servant appeared immediately.

“Did you order a fresh horse?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Get it, man. I need to leave at once.”The servant scrambled to do his bidding. Darcy’s thoughts raced as he tried to make sense of what he needed to do. Mrs. Annesley had saved Georgiana; with her warning and with luck, he would reach Elizabeth in time. Impatient for action, he returned to the table. “Bingley, a situation has arisen that I must attend to. Lucas will ride back to London with you.”

“Of course, Darcy.” Bingley hastened to his feet. “May I help somehow?”

Darcy headed towards the door, consumed by his need to reach Elizabeth. “It is a family matter,” he told Bingley. “I must go.”Then he bounded from the room to find the waiting groomsman.“Ride back to London with Mr. Bingley,” he ordered as he mounted, and then Darcy rode off towards Hertfordshire. He did not care that both Bingley and Caroline noted the direction he took. Neither of them spoke of it, however, as they boarded Bingley’s chaise and four.

Darcy rode low in the saddle, trying to speed his way back to her. His senses told him Elizabeth was indeed in dire straits. He reproached himself for leaving, but he never broke stride. He prayed for God to protect her, but he never broke stride. He cursed the Fate that placed her in danger, but he never broke stride.When he rode onto the graveled pathway leading to the manor house, the horse was lathered in foam. Darcy slid from the saddle, hurriedly tied his horse to a post, and ran to the house.

He burst through the front door, begging not to be too late.

A thump—a muffled sound from above—told him where she was. Leaping over the lower banister, he bolted up the stairs. Breathlessly, he swung the door open.As it banged against the wall, a terrible drama opened up in front of him. Elizabeth’s limbs—her arms and her legs—were tied to the four posts of the bed. She was stripped down to her chemise—her face rigid with terror from what she experienced at Wickham’s hands. Her shining eyes, misted with tears, flooded his heart with anguish.Wickham himself sat in a wing chair next to the bed. He caressed Elizabeth’s arm lightly with his fingertips.

“Darcy? You came back.” Wickham’s smile increased by the moment; the changing scenario pleased him. “It is as I said, Miss Elizabeth; he cares for you.”

Tears streamed from Elizabeth’s eyes.“I am sorry, Fitzwilliam.”A slight shake of his head told her he did not blame her; Darcy blamed only himself.

“Leave her be, Wickham; you seek me.” Darcy’s eyes searched the room, trying to find a way to save Elizabeth.

Wickham stood casually; to taunt Darcy, he ran a fingertip along Elizabeth’s breasts. “Of course, I want you, Darcy, but not enough to give up Miss Elizabeth. You would gladly die in her stead, but that is just it; you would gladly die. In fact, you want to die to end this. However, when I kill the woman you love, that will hurt you.”

Wickham spoke the truth. Darcy would happily sacrifice himself to save Elizabeth.With no other choice and without preamble, Darcy grasped the sword tightly and charged the apparition lurking beside the bed. Barely two steps into the room, a jolt of gale force winds hit his chest, sending his body flying through the air like a rag doll— and like a rag doll, Darcy slithered down the wall in apparent defeat.The rapier skidded away towards the bed.

“Close your eyes, Elizabeth,” he ordered as he staggered to his feet. Darcy brought his arms out to his sides and pivoted to bring forth the power within him; Wickham was strong, but Darcy would not die until Elizabeth was free. It was suicide to attack Wickham; however, he vowed to end this, and end it he would. His death would mean life for Elizabeth. She depended on him; and her determination—her passion—made him strong. Like Wickham’s wind, Darcy’s light held an energy of its own—potent and formidable. It bent Wickham backwards, knocking him from his feet and momentarily blinding him with its power.

Shielding his eyes, Wickham teetered for a moment before regaining control. Mockingly, he challenged,“Excellent, Darcy, but you are still no match for me.” Again, a whirlwind skittered across the hardwood floor towards Darcy, followed by a biting, sucking sound intended to rip the skin from his body.

Intuitively, Darcy tucked and rolled away, trying to draw the power away from where Elizabeth lay. Attempting to free herself, she wriggled, but for naught.The knots held her captive to whatever would come.

As he escaped the evil sent at him by Wickham, Darcy grabbed the rapier, which was resting by the foot of the bed. Excitement swirled around them—shadows prowled the corners of the room as he and Wickham evaluated the situation.Their bodies tensed—their muscles flexed for response—their hearts pounded in their ears. Steel grey eyes met ice blue ones, and pure energy crackled between them.The minutest movement took on great importance. The only noise in the room was Elizabeth’s shuddered breathing. And as quickly as the battle had stopped, it began again.Wickham lunged to reach him first, and, mechanically, from his place on the floor, Darcy plunged the sword into Wickham’s chest, pushing up on it to open the wound more.

Wickham’s face contorted in obvious surprise, knowing the folly of his attack on Darcy. “Die!” Darcy roared as he clamored to his feet, pushing the rapier deeper into Wickham’s heart.

Wickham snarled a smile—a mixture of pain and defiance. you, Darcy.” With a mocking salute and a blast of absolute power, the whole room swirled—rotated. Darcy grabbed for the four-poster, diving onto the bed to protect Elizabeth at all costs.

“I have you,” he growled as he draped himself over her.

Within seconds, it was over. Silence ruled where chaos had been.The room stood still, and the roar of the wind miraculously vanished. Only the echoing sound of the broken sword hitting the floor remained in the room. For Darcy, the darkness of a moment ago disappeared with the sunlight of knowing Elizabeth to be alive.

Her muffled cough brought him back to reality. Darcy rolled from her, straining to right himself and his world. “Elizabeth?” He pushed the hair from her face.“Elizabeth!” He kissed the side of her face, needing to feel her closeness. “Tell me you are well.” He caressed her jaw line in the palm of his hand, searching for the woman he cherished.

Sounding frightened and a bit childlike, she managed to whisper, “You came. I thought you were gone.”

“Oh,Vixen,” he moaned as he drank of her lips tenderly.“I will explain it later.” His mouth rested only inches above hers. “We must leave now.”