hollow of her throat, however, the master of Pemberley discerned a small, angry-looking mark that could not but concern him. Though she ’d worn this particular necklace countless times before—in fact, he’d never seen her without it—his new understanding of what she was made him question her preference for it. Darcy frowned. To him, it made no sense.
“ Why do you wear this?” he murmured, his fingertips caressing her injured flesh with unexampled tenderness. “Surely this causes you a great deal of discomfort?”
Elizabeth ’s breath hitched, and it took several moments for her to compose herself enough to form an answer. “It’s a reminder of my former humanity; an admonition, so I may do the right thing when all I desire to do is wrong. When compared to the constant burn of my thirst, or the agony I would feel should I forget myself for a fraction of a moment and bring harm to someone, the discomfort is nothing—no more than an insignificant pinch. It is worth it, for it has given me the strength to spare every life I’ve ever wanted to take, including your own.”
Darcy was shocked by her confession. She was a vampyre, after all, and undoubtedly wanted —needed—human blood in order to survive. “But I’d thought… Forgive me,” he muttered, shaking his head contritely. “It must be extremely difficult abstaining from something so vital to your survival. I had no idea abstinence was even possible for those of your kind, never mind practiced.”
“ There are other ways for a vampyre to sustain one’s self,” she quietly admitted, “but that isn’t to say I don’t feel the urge to give in to far baser cravings whenever the options available to me appear less than palatable, which they very often do. The good Lord knows I would endure far more, though—far, far more than I ever have if only…”
“ If only…” he urged softly.
But Elizabeth swallowed thickly and shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly and avoiding his gaze.
“ Dearest, Elizabeth,” he whispered, his voice urgent as his hands moved to cradle her face, but it was all he could manage before he felt the heady sensation of her breath envelope him. The subtle chill and deceptive sweetness of her scent made Darcy feel at once lethargic and dreamy, weightless and sublime, as though he was floating on a cloud without a care in the world.
“ You must sleep now, dear sir,” she whispered, her dark eyes compelling as her fingers danced along his temple, the apple of his cheek, the line of his jaw. Her hands trembled as they slid along the column of his throat, caressing his pulse and the thick, vital vein pumping his life’s blood through his body with a feather-light touch. Her lips followed the same path, teasing him, pressing careful kisses to his skin as she wound her fingers into his hair.
Darcy was drowning in desire, his thoughts little more than an incoherent haze in his head. He swore he heard Elizabeth ’s breath quicken as she nuzzled the curve of his neck with her nose, inhaling deeply. He felt her lips part against his throat, and the tip of her tongue trace a lazy pattern along the artery there, the sensation causing them both to moan in pleasure as his eyes rolled back into his head.
His heart pounded wildly, and he longed to know whether this experience was indee d reality or merely his subconscious deceiving him—again. But his eyelids were far too heavy to open; his limbs too burdensome to lift, and so the master of Pemberley had no option before him but to surrender to the pleasurable smother of Elizabeth’s breath, and lips, and touch, unsure of everything but the fierceness of his love for her.
N ine
Pemberley, Derbyshire, two months later…
Dearest Sir,
For so very dear to me you have become. Pray forgive my forwardness in writing to you, but time is of the essence and I must speak to you by such means are within my reach. Would that our situation was not so
“ Why do you wear this?” he murmured, his fingertips caressing her injured flesh with unexampled tenderness. “Surely this causes you a great deal of discomfort?”
Elizabeth ’s breath hitched, and it took several moments for her to compose herself enough to form an answer. “It’s a reminder of my former humanity; an admonition, so I may do the right thing when all I desire to do is wrong. When compared to the constant burn of my thirst, or the agony I would feel should I forget myself for a fraction of a moment and bring harm to someone, the discomfort is nothing—no more than an insignificant pinch. It is worth it, for it has given me the strength to spare every life I’ve ever wanted to take, including your own.”
Darcy was shocked by her confession. She was a vampyre, after all, and undoubtedly wanted —needed—human blood in order to survive. “But I’d thought… Forgive me,” he muttered, shaking his head contritely. “It must be extremely difficult abstaining from something so vital to your survival. I had no idea abstinence was even possible for those of your kind, never mind practiced.”
“ There are other ways for a vampyre to sustain one’s self,” she quietly admitted, “but that isn’t to say I don’t feel the urge to give in to far baser cravings whenever the options available to me appear less than palatable, which they very often do. The good Lord knows I would endure far more, though—far, far more than I ever have if only…”
“ If only…” he urged softly.
But Elizabeth swallowed thickly and shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly and avoiding his gaze.
“ Dearest, Elizabeth,” he whispered, his voice urgent as his hands moved to cradle her face, but it was all he could manage before he felt the heady sensation of her breath envelope him. The subtle chill and deceptive sweetness of her scent made Darcy feel at once lethargic and dreamy, weightless and sublime, as though he was floating on a cloud without a care in the world.
“ You must sleep now, dear sir,” she whispered, her dark eyes compelling as her fingers danced along his temple, the apple of his cheek, the line of his jaw. Her hands trembled as they slid along the column of his throat, caressing his pulse and the thick, vital vein pumping his life’s blood through his body with a feather-light touch. Her lips followed the same path, teasing him, pressing careful kisses to his skin as she wound her fingers into his hair.
Darcy was drowning in desire, his thoughts little more than an incoherent haze in his head. He swore he heard Elizabeth ’s breath quicken as she nuzzled the curve of his neck with her nose, inhaling deeply. He felt her lips part against his throat, and the tip of her tongue trace a lazy pattern along the artery there, the sensation causing them both to moan in pleasure as his eyes rolled back into his head.
His heart pounded wildly, and he longed to know whether this experience was indee d reality or merely his subconscious deceiving him—again. But his eyelids were far too heavy to open; his limbs too burdensome to lift, and so the master of Pemberley had no option before him but to surrender to the pleasurable smother of Elizabeth’s breath, and lips, and touch, unsure of everything but the fierceness of his love for her.
N ine
Pemberley, Derbyshire, two months later…
Dearest Sir,
For so very dear to me you have become. Pray forgive my forwardness in writing to you, but time is of the essence and I must speak to you by such means are within my reach. Would that our situation was not so
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