“Lizzy!” Elizabeth Bennet felt herself being shaken. “Lizzy, wake up!”
Elizabeth opened one eye to see Alex sitting on her bed, smiling at her. “Go away,” she grumbled and attempted to roll over.
“Oh no, Lizzy. You gotta get up. You have breakfast in a half hour. Now up!” He pulled the blankets off her with a flourish.
“Fuck!” she swore. “Jesus, Alex, can’t a girl have some privacy?”
“Oh, like it’s anything I haven’t seen before?” he questioned her mockingly. “I’m serious, Lizzy, you need to get up now.”
Elizabeth sat up, rubbing her face, and gingerly opened both eyes. She was cold now, wearing only a T-shirt and boxers. “I hate you,” she growled.
“Then it’s probably a good thing we broke up. Let’s go, Liz!” he replied cheerfully as he headed for the door.
“Gah,” Elizabeth moaned, expressing her view of the world at the moment. Elizabeth Bennet was not a morning person.
Thirty-five minutes later found Elizabeth, Jane, and Charlotte entering a private dining room filled with large round tables and a buffet to one side. Elizabeth made a beeline for the coffee and found herself next to Caroline, who was refilling her cup.
“Good morning, Lizzy,” she said brightly.
Elizabeth covered a yawn and nodded, reaching for a cup. “Good morning, Caroline.”
Caroline smiled. “You can call me Caro. Everyone else does.” Elizabeth nodded her thanks. Caroline waited for Elizabeth to get her coffee and then walked with her toward the table. “Did you girls have a good time last night?”
Elizabeth wasn’t sure what Caroline meant. At her confused look, Caroline added, “At the show?”
Elizabeth took a big sip of coffee. “Oh yes! Thank you. We had a great time.” Her enthusiasm died when she realized that she had followed Caroline to a table where Darcy was already seated.
Their eyes met for a moment; Elizabeth’s were uncertain, Darcy’s patient, then Alex came up beside her, distracting Elizabeth. “Push over one, Lizzy. I need to talk to Caro,” he said, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.
Elizabeth shifted over a seat, finding herself between Jane on one side and Alex on the other.
Elizabeth focused on her coffee before she could face the question of food. She struggled to pull herself together, letting the caffeine banish the fuzziness from her brain and increase her awareness. As she sipped, she let her eyes wander the room, taking attendance. Almost everyone from the tour was there.
“Where are Mr. Collins and Ms. de Bourgh?” Elizabeth asked Alex, as she realized they were missing.
“Gone,” Alex answered easily.
“The studio people don’t have a whole lot to do with the tour, Lizzy,” Caroline explained. “They only come down to observe or if there’s a problem.”
Elizabeth nodded at the explanation and went back to her coffee. She noticed Richard, standing in the doorway kissing the girl from the elevator last night. As she watched, he handed the girl something and she left with a walk that would have done Jane Russell proud. “Who was that?” she asked quietly.
Caroline looked up from her notes and answered briefly, “That’s the flavor.”
“Flavor?”
“Flavor of the Day,” Caroline said with a meaningful look.
“Her name is Lissa,” said Richard in a voice that was loud enough to carry to Elizabeth but not be overheard by the other tables. “And since she is coming to the show tonight, she has moved out of the ‘groupie’ category into ‘short-term relationship,’ thank you.”
Elizabeth was taken aback. Not by the fact that Richard had one-night stands with his fans, she was too experienced in the business for that to faze her, but by the matter-of-fact way he talked about it. “Oh,” she said dumbly.
“Don’t let him get to you, Lizzy; that’s just the way Richard is,” Charles said with a reassuring smile. “He has no shame.”
“And why should I?” Richard asked as he returned with a plate of food and coffee. “If a lady and I wish to have a meaningless physical relationship, and we are both consenting adults, what is the problem with that?”
Darcy seemed to be deliberately ignoring the conversation and focusing on his food, periodically casting surreptitious glances at Elizabeth.
Charles just laughed and shook his head. Elizabeth felt like she was watching a discussion that had been repeated numerous times before. She left the table to get a plate of food. As she returned, Caroline rose and moved to the front of the room.
“Since everyone is finally here,” she flashed a look at Richard, “let’s begin. Last night was good. I was very impressed with LBS.” She looked at the girls. “Nice work, ladies, welcome to the tour.” There was a brief smattering of applause. “Today is an easy day. I want everyone to relax and try to catch up on sleep; the rest of the week is going to be tough. Tonight and tomorrow we are at the arena. Everything is packed up Sunday night, and we go to Houston. The crew will be leaving with the stage, but the artists get to spend one last night in this fine hotel.” There was a wave of laughter at her sarcastic comment. “Enjoy it; we will be on the buses for the rest of the week. Monday night is Houston, Tuesday night is Shreveport, and so on from there. Any questions or problems?” She looked around the room. “Okay, have a good day, and we’ll be meeting again for breakfast tomorrow, as usual,” she concluded and returned to her seat.
Caroline took a sip of coffee, turned to Lizzy and Jane, and said in a quiet voice, “I’m serious what I said, girls, about taking it easy today. Starting Monday we are going to be sleeping on the buses and performing for eight days straight. I want you to do whatever you have to do to get your heads on straight today, because it’s going to be rough.”
“Thanks, Caro, we will,” Jane answered, touched by her concern.
“Would you like to see the city today, Jane?” Charles asked warmly. “Just you and me?”
Jane smiled delightedly at his suggestion.
Elizabeth had been idly looking in Darcy’s direction, and she noticed his brows come together at Charles’s offer. She knew Darcy didn’t like Charles spending time with Jane; after all, Jane was clearly just using him to get what she could from him. The taste in her mouth turned bitter, and she took a gulp of coffee to wash it away.
The next two days quickly passed into routine for Elizabeth: breakfast meetings, quiet afternoons, shows at night, followed by late-night swims, and bed. She ignored Darcy as much as possible, being formal and polite to him when she could not.
Monday morning found her getting up even earlier than usual (not a pretty sight) and dragging herself down to breakfast and the buses.
A trio of buses waited for them. The first was the domain of Slurry, the second was for Darcy’s top staff, and the third would be the on-the-road home of Long Borne Suffering. Richard casually informed her that three more buses carrying the crew had left the night before, with all the sets and equipment on trucks.
Elizabeth couldn’t repress her smile as she climbed up into the bus, her guitars in each hand. The bus was like a huge, elegantly appointed motor home: two sets of bunks on the right side, a dinette and kitchen area on the left, and couches in the back. Spontaneous laughter bubbled up out of the three women over the novelty of the experience.
“I’m glad you like it,” Alex observed as he climbed up the steps, “because you are going to be here for a while.”
“It’s great, Alex,” Elizabeth grinned as Charlotte loudly announced the discovery of a deluxe entertainment center in the back.
Tour life settled into a routine as well. The novelty of the bus wore off quickly, but the girls’ spirits were kept up by their nightly performances.
Each morning the tour had breakfast together, at a restaurant either on the road or in the city where they would perform that night. After breakfast, the two bands would often mingle. Charles was a frequent visitor to the LBS bus, and he and Jane would talk and entertain each other for hours. Charlotte and Elizabeth would sometimes visit the Slurry bus, usually to hang with Richard, or he would visit them. An easy camaraderie developed between the groups as they learned more about each other. They learned that Elizabeth was a complete bitch in the morning until she had her coffee; that Jane was as sweet as she appeared; that Charlotte was the least romantic woman on the planet; that Richard was easygoing and had a self-effacing joke about everything; and that Charles would do anything for a friend. Only Darcy remained apart.
When she wasn’t talking to her friends or rehearsing, Elizabeth spent her time balanced between writing songs, playing her guitar, and working on her computer. She noticed that the amount of hits to the LBS website had increased greatly during their first week on tour, and she was answering more fan email than ever before.
Tuesday was the first night they were not performing, and the girls relished not only the time off but also the idea of sleeping in a bed that was not traveling down the highway. As they settled into the luxurious suite, Caroline invited the girls to go out that night with her, Charles, and Richard. They agreed happily.
“Why isn’t Darcy coming?” Elizabeth wondered out loud after Caroline left.
“He probably doesn’t want to get snarled at by you,” Charlotte said bluntly as she carried her bag to her room.
“I do not snarl,” Elizabeth objected.
“Oh no. Never,” Charlotte called out sarcastically. “Just like you never stare at him either.”
“Lizzy,” Jane said gently to Elizabeth’s surprised and questioning look, “I know you don’t snarl, but the fact of the matter is that someone who doesn’t know you as well as we do might think you are being a little short with Will.”
“I have been perfectly polite.”
“Yes, you have, but we all know that you are only ‘polite’ with people you dislike.” Jane turned to her bed and opened her suitcase. “It’s possible that Will has noticed this, too.”
“Since when have you called him Will?” Elizabeth asked, amazed.
“Lizzy,” Charlotte began as she reemerged from her bedroom, “I don’t know what you have against him, but maybe you should try being a little nicer to him.”
“You don’t know?” Lizzy repeated incredibly, her exasperation rising. “Charlotte, I told you what he said to me; you heard what he called us when he met us!”
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“And have you seen the way he looks at Jane and Charles? It’s clear that he hates the fact that they are getting close.”
Jane looked away, embarrassed.
“Are you telling me you know what he’s thinking, Lizzy?” Charlotte asked quietly.
Elizabeth stopped short, her mouth hanging open.
“Look,” Charlotte continued, “I’ll be the first to admit, he’s not Mr. Congeniality, but you are not even giving the man a chance, and that’s not like you.”
Elizabeth looked puzzled at her friend, then to her sister. “Jane? Have I been rude to Darcy?” she asked in a doubtful voice.
“No,” Jane assured her, “you are never rude. But you haven’t made him feel accepted either, and I think it’s possible that this is why he isn’t joining us tonight.”
Elizabeth stood still for a moment, thinking. Had she been the one being standoffish? She had always blamed it on Darcy, but perhaps she hadn’t given him a chance. She remembered the night of the first show, when he gave her advice about performing. Their interaction had been odd, but still it was good advice, and she hadn’t thanked him for it. She realized if Charles or Richard had done the same, she would have made a point of thanking either one of them afterward.
As soon as she realized her friends were correct, she was resolved to try to amend her behavior. She didn’t like it, but she was determined to try to mend fences with Darcy. Setting her jaw, she walked out of her suite and knocked on the door to Darcy’s rooms. It was only afterward, when it was too late, that she questioned her impulsive behavior. What if they were wrong and Darcy was staying in for other reasons? She wondered if perhaps he wasn’t alone in his room, when the door opened.
His eyes flared for just a moment in surprise when he saw her. Elizabeth screwed up her nerve and pushed forward. “Hi,” she smiled. “Do you have a moment? I’d like to talk to you.”
Without a word, Darcy opened the door wide and stood aside. Darcy’s rooms were similar to her own. The living room was empty, except for his guitar resting on the couch. Elizabeth walked to the sitting area and asked uncomfortably, “Were you doing something?”
Darcy shook his head as he sat down on the couch, drawing the guitar back into his lap. “I was just playing,” he answered softly, looking down at his instrument and then fixing her eyes with his gaze. He indicated the love seat next to the couch where he sat and once she was seated, asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Elizabeth stared at his fingers, which were instinctively curling around the neck of the guitar. “I, um,” she stopped and looked down. Then started again. “I’m sorry; this is a little difficult for me. I realized today that I have been pretty rude to you, and I apologize. You have been trying to be friendly and I’ve been blowing you off and that’s not like me, really.” She shrugged uncomfortably. “So, I came to say I’m sorry.”
She paused. Darcy waited, silently. Then she continued, “I heard you aren’t coming out with us tonight, and I hope that isn’t because of me.” She realized how egotistical it sounded and wondered again about making a fool of herself. “I would like for you to come. Charles said something about an eighties karaoke party, and anyway, I’d like to try to get to know you better.” Realizing she was babbling, she finished as gracefully as she could.
Darcy stared at her long enough to make her nervous. She was convincing herself that she was not only a fool but about to get thrown off the tour when he finally spoke. “Thank you for coming here,” he started. His eyes broke away, as he looked down for a beat, before traveling back to hers. “I had wondered if I had offended you,” he spoke slowly, and Elizabeth realized with a flash of insight that he was embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry if I did.” He watched her again, waiting for her reaction.
Elizabeth had nothing to say to that, so she smiled uncomfortably and waited. “I’m not coming out tonight because, truthfully, I hate clubs. Too many people and too much noise.” He shrugged and flashed a quick smile. “I’m something of a homebody, I’m afraid.”
Elizabeth was speechless. This was the last thing she had expected from the imposing Fitzwilliam Darcy. She questioned how much she did know about this man she had been working with for two weeks. She realized he was staring at her, expecting a response, and quickly said the first thing that came to her mind. “Oh, well, I’m glad it’s not me,” she smiled nervously. “But I do hope we can be friends, Darcy.” She said his name uneasily.
“My friends call me Will,” he said, his deep voice warmer than she had ever heard it.
Elizabeth smiled genuinely and held out her hand. “And mine call me Lizzy.”
As Darcy shook her hand, she noticed his palm was warm, his touch firm, and she could feel the roughness of his calluses scraping against her own. A flash of something like desire bolted through her as she had a sudden vision of that rough skin against her most tender parts. Looking quickly away, she rose and moved toward the door. Darcy followed her silently.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow then, Will?” she asked pleasantly as she opened the door. Darcy nodded and took the door as she passed through it. “Bye,” she waved.
Darcy watched as she blithely returned to her suite and then slowly shut the door.
Four nights later found them in Pensacola, Florida, for a one-night show. This was one of the smallest houses they had yet played, a large civic center rather than a stadium or arena. Jane commented on how she was looking forward to performing in a more intimate setting. Elizabeth really couldn’t see how eight thousand was more intimate than twenty, but she wasn’t going to argue.
Before they went out, Alex informed the girls that their video would debut on MTV on Tuesday. Excited by the news, they took the stage, ready to play their hearts out. The set progressed flawlessly until they reached Jane’s second song, “Good-bye.” Elizabeth was focused on her playing when suddenly she knew something was wrong. Jane abruptly stopped singing and fell to the floor. Elizabeth froze in shock until she saw the blood pouring out of Jane’s forehead and pooling on the stage.
Then her guitar was on the ground and she was pulling Jane onto her lap, saying her name over and over again. Jane was unconscious, her face very white against the bright red blood running into her hair. Elizabeth looked up, feeling very small and alone, wondering what to do, when suddenly Charles appeared.
Darcy was standing where he always stood during her performance, watching her at the bank of monitors. He didn’t know why. At first, it had been just to make sure she was good enough, then to make sure she was okay. But she had long since proven herself. Darcy knew her act by heart, still, every night he was there, watching her and listening to her songs. It was like he was bewitched.
Charles stood beside him, as always. At least Charles had no doubts, Darcy reflected in annoyance. Charles was absolutely clear why he was there. He wore his Jane smile, and Darcy wondered who was trying to fool whom. It was clear that Charles was completely hooked on Jane. It had only been dumb luck and separate tour buses that kept them apart. He didn’t object to his friend’s romance with Jane in principle. Jane seemed like a nice person. The circumstances were the problem. With only two weeks into the tour and another seven months to go, all their lives could become a total hell if their relationship went south. It wasn’t that Darcy was against his friend’s happiness, he told himself for the hundredth time; it was just that this was a national tour. It was more important than an infatuation.
His thoughts were broken by a shout. Darcy turned and watched Charles run from him, his face stricken. He turned back to the monitors and his breath caught at what he saw. Elizabeth was kneeling on the ground, Jane unconscious before her. “Rebecca!” he yelled, turning toward the stage.
She was there, firing orders into her headset, blocking Darcy’s path to the stage with her body. “Wait, Darcy! I think it was a bottle, but I don’t know yet. Don’t go out there!”
A moment later, Charles came back, carrying Jane, her arms swaying like a rag doll; Elizabeth, clothes bloodied, and Charlotte followed, both looking very frightened.
“Did you see what happened?” Rebecca barked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I was playing and she just went down and there was blood.” She craned her head to see what was happening to Jane. Alex led a team of EMTs out of nowhere and they took Jane from Charles.
The roar of the crowd and Caroline’s voice coming over the loudspeakers suddenly brought Darcy back to himself. “Rebecca, I need to know what it was, now!”
Rebecca nodded, her attention divided between Darcy and her headset. “It was a bottle. We found it, and my people have the assailant.”
Darcy nodded, satisfied. “The police?”
“They’re coming.”
Darcy pushed between Charles and Elizabeth to look at Jane. “Is she going to be okay?” he asked the technicians working over her. Jane had regained consciousness and was crying softly. Darcy could now see the deep gash on her forehead that traveled up to her hairline.
“Yes, it looks like a concussion. We’ll transport her, but I think she’ll be all right.”
Darcy sighed. “Good.” He turned to his friend. “Charles, go get cleaned up. Caroline!”
“Right here, Darcy.”
“Get the stage cleaned up and our set out there ASAP!”
Caroline nodded and started speaking into her microphone. Charles stared at him stunned. “We’re going on?” he asked, astounded.
“We’re going on,” Darcy said firmly. “Go get ready.” Charles remained where he was, frozen. “Do it!” Darcy snapped. “She’ll be okay!”
Charles moved woodenly toward his dressing room while Richard came running up to the huddle of people Darcy was circling around like a shark. “What’s going on?”
“We are, as soon as possible. Get yourself ready.”
Elizabeth watched Darcy from the floor, where she knelt beside Jane, her eyes large and uncomprehending. Finally he turned back to her and gently pulled her to her feet. “Go with her, Elizabeth, make sure she sees a plastic surgeon.” Darcy looked at Jane’s prone form, then back to Elizabeth. “I’ll take care of all the costs, but I don’t want her to have a scar. Do you understand?”
Elizabeth searched Darcy’s eyes, trying to understand what he was saying. She nodded dully.
“We’ll come to the hospital when the show is over, but right now we have to make sure the crowd doesn’t tear the house apart.” He stopped and tilted his head. “Elizabeth, do you understand?”
Elizabeth’s eyelids flickered and she seemed to come back to herself. “I understand,” she replied softly.
Darcy stared at her a moment, then nodded. “Good. We will come right after the show. Take care of her.”
They separated, one group moving toward the stage, the other moving toward the door; both focused on their tasks and forgot about the other.
Elizabeth was staring at the floor of the private waiting room they had been given. She objected to being there. She objected to the bright lights, to the random droning of the TV that no one was watching, to the voices, some fearful, some calm. She objected to the waiting and worrying. Her eyes played over the brown, tan, and white pattern of the tile floor again and again as she waited.
Alex and Charlotte sat beside her on the vinyl couch; Charlotte flipped through a dog-eared magazine while Alex rubbed her back absently. The time for panic had long since passed and Elizabeth was left feeling tired and slightly nauseated.
She heard a bustle of footsteps and Darcy and Charles rushed into the room, with Richard following behind. “How is she?” Charles asked, his face stricken.
Elizabeth stood and walked calmly to him. She noticed he was still wearing his concert outfit, and she wondered in passing what Mrs. Wong, the wardrobe mistress, would think. “She’s okay,” Elizabeth told him, seeing his shoulders drop in visible relief. “She’s currently having a CT scan, then we can go back to her.”
“Why are they only doing the CT scan now?” Darcy asked impatiently.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Because her vitals were good, and the plastic surgeon insisted on working on her first.” She didn’t try to hide the weariness in her voice.
Darcy’s face softened. “It’s a concussion, then?” Elizabeth nodded. “What’s the prognosis?”
“If the CT scan comes back like they expect it will, she should be free to go in a few hours. She’s going to have to see a plastic surgeon again in a week, but it doesn’t have to be the same one she saw tonight. If we know what city we will be in, the doctor here will give her a referral.”
Darcy nodded and pulled his cell out of his pocket, while Charles took her hand. “Are you okay, Lizzy?”
The caring in his face was too much and Elizabeth’s eyes stung with tears. Without a word, Charles took her into his arms, holding her in a protective hug. Elizabeth took advantage of his strength for a moment, then forced her emotions down and pulled away, nodding her thanks to Charles as she did. She was helped by the distraction of Darcy’s voice speaking into the phone.
“Caro, she’s going to be okay… It’s a concussion… We’re staying here tonight. Cancel tomorrow night… Okay, thanks.” With a snap he hung up.
Elizabeth stared at him, stunned. “You’re stopping the tour?”
Darcy nodded once. “We stick together. I’m not leaving you behind.”
Elizabeth considered his words. They surprised her, since she half-expected that he would leap at the chance to leave LBS behind.
“The limo is waiting downstairs. Who’d like to go to the hotel with me?” Richard asked. “There doesn’t seem to be much point in waiting here,” he shrugged. “Might as well be comfortable.”
Charlotte was on her feet before he finished speaking. Alex rose as well and looked at Lizzy expectantly. “I’m staying here,” Elizabeth volunteered. Alex nodded and looked to the other two men. Charles stated emphatically that he was staying, and Darcy nodded in agreement.
“Is it okay if I go, Lizzy? Will you be all right?” Alex’s eyes searched hers.
“You go,” Elizabeth said as she waved him away. “You’ll probably have a ton of work to do back at the hotel.”
Alex nodded and stepped close, grasping her shoulders and kissing her forehead. “I’ll see you later,” he said quietly into her ear before he left with the others.
Elizabeth gestured to the couch, and Charles sat down beside her. Darcy remained standing, leaning against the wall. The private waiting room they had been given was tiny, but at least they were alone.
“What happened?” Darcy asked softly.
Elizabeth shrugged. “I wish I knew. I didn’t see it. I was playing along and suddenly she was down.” She looked at the floor, her expression somber. “I had just realized that I had to get her off the stage when Charles was there, and I followed him.”
“I saw it,” Charles said in a low voice. He was staring straight ahead, as if replaying a memory in his head. “I saw the bottle. It passed in front of Lizzy, and I could see it against her shirt a moment before it hit Jane.”
Elizabeth nodded in comprehension. “I didn’t know what it was. I thought that maybe she had been shot, but I didn’t hear anything. I didn’t know what to think.” She sighed. “How did the concert go?”
Charles’s expression hardened and he looked away.
“It was fine,” Darcy answered quickly. “We played an extra set and it was fine.” Charles refused to look at him, and Elizabeth could feel the tension coming off in waves between the two men. “Charles, do you remember the Montreal concert back in ’92? Metallica and Guns N’ Roses? The riot?” His voice was pitched low and deep. “I know you’re angry with me, and I know you wanted to go with Jane, but if we had left, there very well might have been a riot.” His eyes flashed. “And for what? So that we could sit here and wait?” He shook his head. “No way, Charles. I’m sorry if you are mad at me, but it wasn’t worth damaging our reputation and possibly someone getting injured. Jane’s going to be fine and you’ll see her in a moment.”
Charles turned to Darcy, his expression angry, when a nurse appeared in the doorway. “Miss Bennet?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said as the three faces turned toward the nurse.
“Jane is back in her room; you can see her now.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said, rising to her feet. “When will the report on the CT scan be in?”
“Not for a while. The doctor will speak to you when it’s ready.”
Elizabeth thanked the nurse and led the way to the room in which Jane rested on a bed. Her forehead was covered with a bandage that hid the sutures. She looked weary and her eyes were closed.
“Jane!” Charles cried out before Elizabeth could say anything by way of warning. Jane’s eyes opened and a weak smile lit up her features.
“You came,” she said, voicing her pleasure.
“Of course I did,” Charles said softly as he took her hand. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” She looked to her sister. “What did the doctor say?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “They haven’t looked at the CT scan yet. It’s gonna be awhile, so you might as well just rest.”
Charles pulled up a chair and, without releasing Jane’s hand, sat down beside her. His eyes were filled with sadness as he touched the hair around her bandage.
“How was the show?” Jane asked him softly.
Charles kissed her hand repeatedly. “Horrible. I hated it. I was so worried about you.”
Jane’s face softened with concern. “Oh Charles, I’m so sorry.”
“No,” he whispered. “No, sweetheart, shhhh. It’s okay now.” He smiled at her warmly and touched her cheek. “You’re going to be all right, and that’s all that matters.”
Elizabeth watched their interaction with increasing discomfort. She looked away and caught Darcy’s eye. He motioned with his head toward the waiting room, and Elizabeth followed him out.
She looked at him with an embarrassed grin and moved to sit on the couch. This time Darcy joined her.
“Have you called your parents?” he asked softly as they settled down.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I didn’t want to worry them. I figured it’s not worth calling until we have the test results, and by then they’ll be asleep.” She sighed resignedly. “I’ll call them in the morning.”
“You sound like you’re not looking forward to it.”
Elizabeth looked at him, annoyed. “Of course I’m not. It’s going to be horrible.” She shook her head, and her eyes flashed as she wondered at the stupid things he said.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was just going to offer to call for you.” He paused. “I thought it might be easier to have it come from me.”
Elizabeth looked at him, her forehead crinkled in amazement. “Oh yeah, because it’s so much easier to hear that your child has been injured from a total stranger.”
“I am not a stranger!” he argued. “I’m her employer and she was injured on my tour!”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. I forgot we were on the Control Freak Tour! She fought to keep her emotions in, but it was too late. The dam had been broken, and tears began to leak out. She put her head in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she said painfully. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, no,” Darcy disagreed, horrified, as he watched her collapsing in on herself.
“It’s the stress,” she explained, her voice muffled.
Darcy put his hand on her shoulder. “Lizzy?” he said softly. When he touched her, he felt it again; the spark of desire that tore through his body was like the crack of a whip. It disturbed him, the way he wanted her. In a split second he recognized this yearning as it ripped through him, and he was ashamed. He knew it was wrong in the way it overwhelmed his worry for her and for Jane. The guilt he felt for the attack, and even his long-held revulsion of hospitals, was submerged beneath the desire he felt for her at that moment. She looked up at him, tears running down her cheeks, and he was lost.
Elizabeth found herself in his arms, being held closely. She clung to him just as tightly as he apologized. His body and voice were tight with emotion. “It’s my fault too, Elizabeth. I don’t deal well with hospitals. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“I just wish this had never happened. I wish—” she broke off raggedly.
“I’m sorry, Elizabeth.” Darcy rested his cheek gently on the top of her head. He rocked her in his arms, calming her like a child, until she quieted. “It wasn’t your fault, you know that, don’t you?” he told her softly.
“Of course I do,” Elizabeth snapped, and then she teared up again. “But I just keep asking myself, ‘Why Jane?’” Her voice broke. “I mean, if you are going to hurt someone, why not hurt me, or Charlotte? Why Jane?”
Without thought, Darcy pulled her closer. He ignored the blood on her clothes and the scent of fear on her skin as he tried to comfort her sobs. “I’m sorry, Lizzy, I’m very sorry. It shouldn’t have happened.”
When they reached the hotel, Caroline was waiting in the lobby. Charlotte and Alex gave her a full report, the news being mostly good, but Caroline realized right away that this would have a major effect on the tour. She handed the room keys to Richard and Charlotte and then took Alex to her room for a planning session.
Charlotte looked at Richard, shrugged, and moved toward the elevator bays. Once they were inside, he asked her softly, “Are you okay?”
Charlotte stared straight ahead and quietly answered, “Nope.”
Richard took a deep breath. “Would you like some company?”
Slowly Charlotte turned to him, her eyes full of questions and disbelief. “Are you… hitting on me?”
“If you want me to, yes, otherwise I’m just offering a friendly ear,” he said with easy frankness.
Charlotte looked away, considering the offer. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, she said calmly, “Let’s go to your room.”
“Do you remember anything?” Charles asked softly, his hands gently caressing her hair.
Jane shook her head sadly. “I don’t even remember going out onstage. They told me that short-term memory loss is normal.” She looked at him. “Tell me what happened.”
Charles spoke slowly. “You started like you always do.” He smiled briefly. “You were halfway through the set when someone threw a big Jack Daniel’s bottle and caught you in the head. I saw it on the monitor and ran out to you.”
“Charles!” Jane was dismayed.
“Oh, Rebecca was pissed,” he flashed a grin. “But I didn’t care. I picked you up and carried you back.” He looked intently into her eyes. “There was so much blood, Jane, I was terrified.”
Jane squeezed his hand tightly.
“Alex and Lizzy took you to the hospital, and Will made us perform.” He frowned guiltily. “I was horrible onstage, I was so worried about you, but Will was concerned that if we didn’t go on there might be a riot.”
“He was right,” she said, her voice clear. “Don’t feel bad; you did the right thing.”
Charles looked up and saw the absolution in her eyes. He closed his eyes tightly and drew her hand up to his lips again. Whispering against the back of it, he confessed, “I hated being away from you, Jane, I hated it!”
“I know,” she whispered back reassuringly, “I know.”
Elizabeth pulled back from his embrace and shook her head, “Oh no, Fitzwilliam Darcy. If I can’t take the blame for this, you don’t get to either. It’s no more your fault than it is mine.”
“It’s my tour,” Darcy objected softly.
“So what?” Elizabeth shrugged. “We wanted to be there. You didn’t hold a gun to our heads and make us go on the stage. We knew the risks,” her voice slipped on the last word.
Darcy regarded her skeptically. “You’ve never had anything thrown at you, Elizabeth, have you?”
Elizabeth shook her head, aware that she had been caught. Then she shrugged once. “Flowers.”
Darcy lifted up one side of his mouth. “This is a little different than flowers.”
Elizabeth had to agree with him. “You’re used to this?”
Darcy did fully smile this time. Elizabeth was distracted by the way it changed his face. “We started out playing clubs in New York that had fencing between the audience and the stage.” He laughed once at the memories. “We became accustomed to all sorts of things being thrown at us. Bottles just meant the crowd was enjoying the show.”
Elizabeth smiled for the first time all night. “Wow, we’ve never played any place like that.”
“Until tonight,” he challenged.
“Until tonight,” she agreed, nodding to herself. “My guitars!” she exclaimed, suddenly recalling them.
“I had Ronnie take care of them. They were cleaned and should be in your hotel room by now.”
Elizabeth looked at him gratefully, realizing he understood how important they were to her. “Thanks,” she said softly before slipping into silence.
“Are you regretting being here, Lizzy? On tour?”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m sorry that Jane got hurt, but this is what I always wanted. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”
Darcy pulled her close to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “What about you?” she asked softly, her voice disconnected and distant. “Is this what you wanted?”
Darcy shook his head thoughtfully. “No, I wanted to be a musician. I love my music. But I never wanted this—the fans, the photo sessions, the interviews.” He sounded weary. “If I could, I would walk away from it all.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because at some point it became more than just me. It became this huge juggernaut, with a hundred people being my responsibility. I can’t just walk away from it. I wish I could.”
Elizabeth wondered silently at his words. She couldn’t imagine the man she had known as Fitzwilliam Darcy trapped in a role he didn’t want, but on the other hand, it certainly appeared to her that he was unhappy. She wondered how this had happened to him. When had he lost control of his life? Was this why he seemed to struggle so hard to regain it?
Charlotte took four steps into the room and stopped. She listened as Richard closed the door and moved quietly behind her. She felt his hands come to rest lightly on her shoulders. “Char?” he asked.
She turned around and slid her arms around his waist. She pressed herself against his warmth and felt his arms enclose her tightly to him. “Char,” he began again. “I just want you to be clear. You set the rules here. Anything you want, and nothing you don’t, ’kay?”
She slowly raised her head and looked pleadingly into his eyes. “I want to forget about this night. Make me forget, please.”
Richard nodded once as his mouth closed on hers. He kissed her firmly, forcing her lips to part against his and teasing her with his tongue. When at last he pulled back, he whispered, “Like that?”
“Yes,” she sighed. He kissed her again as he propelled her farther into the room. A quick search found what he was looking for. He brought her into the bathroom, turned the shower on, and began stripping off her clothes in between kisses.
Moaning softly, she asked, “Won’t I just get dirty again?”
Richard grinned wickedly. “Oh yes, you are going to be very dirty and sweaty. But first you need to get the smell of blood and hospital off of you.” He kissed her fiercely, pulling in her bottom lip and grazing it with his teeth as he released it. “I promise you will enjoy it.”
He led her into the luxurious shower stall and positioned her under the stream. Charlotte was never this docile with a man before in her life, but it was clear that Richard was an expert, and she had a unique trust in him.
She leaned back into the hot stream and realized he had been correct. She did need a shower, and a lazy smile came to her face. She opened her eyes to see Richard staring at her, his eyes dark and his appreciation obvious.
“Turn around,” he growled.
Charlotte grinned cheekily and couldn’t help the tiniest of wiggles. A light slap on her ass made it clear he had noticed and approved. Charlotte wondered what was next when she felt his hands massage her shoulders. “Christ, Char! You’re tight,” he said as he worked her muscles.
She put her hands up to brace herself against the wall. At that moment she didn’t care if she got laid or not. What he did to her body felt so good she worried she couldn’t remain standing. He massaged her shoulders under the hot water until they started to loosen, then he moved down her back, finding knots of tension and working them out. Charlotte was moaning softly before he was done. “See,” he breathed into her ear, “I told you that you would like it.”
Charlotte grinned and nodded as he quickly soaped her body. She shampooed her hair, suddenly eager to be out of there and on to the next step. Richard was very businesslike and in a few short minutes, they were wrapped in large bath sheets and moving to the bedroom.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her politely.
Charlotte shook her head and licked her lips. “Not for food,” she replied naughtily.
Richard led her to the bedroom without another word. There he turned on a low light beside the bed and kissed her again, gently removing the towel. Charlotte blushed slightly, but the way Richard’s eyes appreciably examined her body removed any feelings of embarrassment she might have. His eyes darkened with desire and she felt aroused just by his presence. He moved close to her again and touched her face, tracing her cheek and jaw, tilting her lips up to his. “Charlotte,” he whispered before he kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her senses saturated by the feeling of his lips on hers, his chest again hers, his erection pinned against her stomach, his hands cupping her ass. He broke away from her mouth to kiss the side of her neck as he lightly picked her up. “Bedtime, Charlotte,” he murmured as he placed her on the king-size bed and lay down beside her.
As soon as his hands were free of the burden of carrying her, they began exploring. Caressing her smooth skin, from her face to the tops of her shoulders to her soft breasts to her stomach and legs. His mouth was kissing her in ways she had never imagined possible. With his kiss, he told her she was beautiful and sexy and that he wanted her very, very much. Charlotte could not find it in herself to disagree with such a persuasive argument.
His mouth left hers, but his hand was stimulating her breast so skillfully she couldn’t draw a breath to complain. When she felt his lips at her hardened nipple, first wetting it with his tongue and then smoothly drawing it into his mouth, she moaned with the exquisiteness of it.
“Have you forgotten, Charlotte?” he asked softly as his lips trailed across her chest to her other nipple.
“Forgotten what?” she moaned, her mind blank except for what his mouth was doing and the way his hand was trailing down her stomach and between her thighs. With a contented sigh, he settled against her, her tit in his mouth and his fingers exploring her sex. She was impressed with his talent. His explorations were not the clumsy fumbling of an amateur hoping to stumble across a mythical location. No, this was the hand of a professional on a fact-finding mission. He quickly determined where she liked to be touched and, more importantly, how.
Charlotte was so caught up in the pleasure his fingers were bringing her that she didn’t notice at first that he had abandoned her nipple. “Oh!” she gasped as she sensed him moving against her. “What are you doing?”
He smiled in a predatory way. “I want to taste you, Charlotte.” He drew his face across the slight mound of her belly and gently parted her thighs.
“But,” she objected, “I can’t come that way!”
Richard looked up to her, his expression distinctly pleased. “Yes, you can.”
“No, I’ve tried.”
He laughed softly. “Just lie back and trust me, Charlotte. I think you might be in for a surprise.”
Although dubious, she had to concede that everything else he had done to her so far had been flawless. She lay back and tried to relax, then she felt the first brush of his tongue and suddenly relaxation was the furthest thing from her mind. She had no idea what he was doing to her, but as long as he didn’t stop, she didn’t care at all. She found her fingers threading themselves in his long, soft hair, desperate to keep him from stopping. She cried out involuntarily as she felt his fingers penetrate her. Her hips began twisting in rhythm with his mouth and soon no force on earth could hold her back.
She came in an intense orgasm like she had never experienced before. She lay panting, her mouth still open from the shock as he discreetly wiped his face on a towel and lay down beside her.
“You can’t come that way, can you?” he grinned.
“Oh my God!”
He laughed outright.
“Thank you,” she sighed as she regained her breath.
“No, thank you,” he purred in her ear, “you were delicious.”
“Richard,” she moaned, “fuck me.”
“As you wish,” he grinned and turned aside for a moment to prepare. Her body was starting to ache with need for him as she heard the rattle of a wrapper being opened. She felt the cool air on her body and then he gently mounted her. Quickly he filled the emptiness that was paining her and she responded like a fine violin in the hands of a master. He moved with her, drawing out her pleasure then roughly quickening the pace and stealing her breath from her. She wailed as he drove another shattering orgasm from her body, then in the daze that followed she felt him reach his own peak and collapse beside her.
Her eyes shut, she reached for him like a blind kitten and drew him close. Pressed tightly together, they rested until their breathing grew regular again. Only then did she try to express the gratitude in her heart.
“Oh my God, Richard!” she grinned. “You are a god. It’s never been like that for me.”
He smiled contentedly. “I aim to please, ma’am.”
“Thank you!” she exclaimed and kissed him again. Taking a deep breath, she began to draw herself out of the bed, but his arms caught her before she could move.
“What are you doing?” he asked, puzzled.
“I was going to go back to my room,” she said softly, confused.
“Stay with me,” he told her, but it was clearly a request.
“Why?”
“I’m afraid of the dark.”
She laughed once. “You could leave the light on,” she suggested coyly.
He looked at her, and she saw a profound need in his eyes that she had never seen before in him. It made her throat tighten, as he softly pleaded, “Stay.”
With a sad smile and a nod, she lay back down and snuggled beside him. His long arm switched off the light then draped over the curve of her hip. Softly his lips fluttered against her ear the words, “Good night, Charlotte.”