Vampire Darcy's Desire

in a lower tone: “I noted the red mark on your neck, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth’s fingers shot to the spot.“Does it show,Aunt Merry?”

“Your husband cleverly covered it with the necklace. I, too, have the mark.” Her aunt rolled back the netted scarf draped around her neck and tucked it in at the bodice of her gown.

“Uncle Edward?” Elizabeth could not believe her own ears. Her uncle could not be a vampire, too. Besides, he was her mother’s brother, not a relative of Lord Thomas.

Mrs. Gardiner blushed. “Your uncle enjoys my femininity, as he calls it.”

“Are you saying, Aunt, that my uncle—your husband—kisses you in such a way?”

A bit sarcastically, Aunt Merry responded, “Yes, Lizzy, your uncle and I still share a bed, even after all these years.”

Elizabeth’s mind churned—turning faster and faster. What if what Darcy thought to be the perversion of the curse was actually just part of what he desired during lovemaking? What if he was not a vampire? But he was a vampire, she reasoned. She had witnessed his supernatural powers. But what if he is not? Aloud, she said, “So every time you wear a scarf, it is to cover up Uncle Edward’s affectionate attentions?”

Her aunt laughed.“Not every time, dear Lizzy.”

Elizabeth’s eyes danced in delight.“Aunt Merry, I love you,” she said and gave her a hug.

“I love her, too,” Uncle Edward attested as he entered the box, followed closely by Darcy. He handed his wife a glass of punch.“Of

Elizabeth shot her aunt a shy glance. “Of Pemberley, Uncle. Of your trip to Pemberley.”

“I should have known.” Mr. Gardiner settled himself next to his wife.“Shall I have no peace until summer, Merry?” he teased.

“None whatsoever.”

Bingley and Jane returned just in time for the lights to go down. Elizabeth sipped the lemonade Darcy had brought her. Throughout the second act, she could not help sneaking peeks at her husband. Perhaps she knew something he did not.

They spent four more days in London, visiting museums and art galleries and allowing Elizabeth time to learn the city.They would not return until the season; then she would be on display at all times—a daunting thought. Elizabeth thought she might rather face Wickham’s wrath than come face-to-face with the ton. Bingley chose to remain in town as long as Jane Bennet resided at Gracechurch Street. He called on her daily, and they often joined Darcy and Elizabeth at Overton House or out for the evening.

The newlyweds’ private time became more routine, even though Darcy continued to fight his desires for Elizabeth. When they were out on the town as a couple, he could almost believe the lie they presented. He and Elizabeth were in love and were planning a family. He would have his heir for Pemberley. But Darcy knew that although he loved Elizabeth, they would never produce children; nor would life be routine until he and Elizabeth had disposed of Wickham. It made his heart ache to know Elizabeth had given up so much by becoming involved with him; therefore, he threw all his energies into gratifying her with little things. Sometimes he wondered if he should tell her that he loved her. Would that knowledge please Elizabeth? Could she ever return his love? Would such a declaration make a difference to her? Darcy’s pride would not allow him to take the chance of Elizabeth rebuking

On the way to Pemberley, they spent two days at Matlock with his aunt and uncle. His family welcomed Elizabeth, and she sparkled when she was with them. The Earl offered Darcy his approval before their departure. “It will be good to have you at Pemberley. Your estate needs you; the country needs you. Mrs. Darcy will bring you contentment at last, my boy.You will see what a good woman can bring to a man’s life.You were never known as a rakehell, but you always seemed to lack a focus. Now, with Mrs. Darcy, you appear finally ready to meet your destiny.”

“You are astute,Your Lordship.”

“Your aunt is quite taken with your bride, Fitzwilliam. I dare say my sister would approve most wholeheartedly.”

A week from the day they had spent an evening at the opera with her family, Darcy’s coach arrived at Pemberley. Elizabeth, as they drove along, watched for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation, and when at length they turned in at the lodge her spirits were in high flutter. This was her home—their home—where she would spend her days and nights with Darcy.

Looking out the coach’s window, she noted the expanse of the park.They entered it in one of its lowest points and drove for some time through a wood stretching over a wide extent.“Pemberley in the spring and summer is the most beautiful of places,” Georgiana assured her.

Elizabeth nodded. Her mind was too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view.They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased and Pemberley House instantly caught the eye. She remembered Darcy’s words from that first night in the Netherfield library. It is a large, handsome stone building, standing well on high ground and backed by a ridge of high woody hills with a stream of some natural importance in front. Its banks are neither formal nor falsely adorned. He had described it

Darcy allowed himself to breathe and to release the tension he held high in his shoulders. He had waited and watched for Elizabeth’s reactions as the coach drew nearer to the house. “Your approval is important to me, Elizabeth.” He clasped her hand in his. If Georgiana and Mrs.Annesley did not travel with them, he might have pulled Elizabeth onto his lap and kissed her properly. Instead, he leaned across her and pointed out places along the route where he planned to make improvements. He spoke of maintaining the natural order of the land. Finally, they descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove up to the door.

Once the coachman let down the carriage steps, Darcy descended first. He helped Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley alight, and then he reached into the coach to take Elizabeth’s hand.“Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Darcy,” he said softly.

She glanced up at the pink gold brick facade of the house; the late afternoon winter sun reflected off the rows of windows, making the place glow with light.“What is the superlative form of magnificent?” she murmured. She took his proffered arm, allowing him to lead her forward, all the while keeping up a litany of adjectives to describe