Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star (37 page)

The tour had been brutal on them both. He missed sleeping beside her and waking up to her bright smile. He questioned the fate that brought this perfect woman to him and yet seemed to be constantly scheming to separate them. “Jane,” he said softly as he broke away from her kiss and felt her lips traveling to his neck. “We need to do something about the bands.”

If Jane heard him, she gave no sign of it. She instead steered him to the couch in the small room and sat down on it. Charles followed her, and soon they were lying on it, her beneath, him above. Charles’s worries about the band left him. Jane clearly had more important concerns, which required his immediate attention.

He kissed her, his tongue delighting in the sensation of her mouth caressing his. Their hands were everywhere, quickly removing clothing, which was suddenly binding, hot, and uncomfortable. Once they were naked, they were able to slow down, their awareness focused on the sensation of flesh against flesh.

Jane stared up into his eyes, letting words fall away from them. She didn’t need to speak to be understood. She loved the way his eyes would glow with hunger for her. He delighted in every touch and taste of her, and she could read the delight in his face. She loved the openness of his expression. The way he hid nothing from her. It was what made his secrecy over the upcoming break disturbing.

When he finally parted and entered her, she could see the satisfaction upon him. He relished the sensation, letting himself be lost in her. Jane’s hands moved over him, encouraging him. She didn’t want this to be slow or gentle. She wanted him fierce and hard, the way she knew he could be. She could easily picture him like this when he faced something greater than himself, either a wave or a mountain. Now he faced her desire, which was greater than her body, greater than her soul.

With infinite care, he rode her, watching her every reaction, measuring each response. Like testing each toehold or balancing on his board, this was an act of complete physical precision. Every motion had a purpose, yet at the same time, brought him satisfaction and joy.

Jane was lost. Charles Bingley might be smiling and easygoing to the rest of the world, but only Jane knew this side of him, the side of him that was a manic perfectionist. She surrendered her body to him, trusting him to bring her complete pleasure and release, then drive himself home. The softest sigh was the only sign of her final climax. Through gritted teeth, Charles told her, “Jane! Oh God!
Jane!
” and she squeezed him tightly within her as he exploded.

After a moment, their smiles returned. Charles kissed her sweaty brow and rolled them so they could rest on their sides. Jane’s toes were still curled from the intense pleasure she had felt, and she cuddled close to him, fully content.

When they began to grow cool, they rose and took turns showering. Jane emerged first and dried her hair, then dried Charles’s with the blow-dryer, enjoying the chance to pamper him. “I always feel selfish when you do that,” she said quietly. “I feel like you’re doing all the work.”

Charles reached behind him and squeezed her tight. “Don’t,” he admonished. “You have no idea how it excites me to see you come like that. It’s so sexy and really makes it good for me.”

Jane smiled happily, then said, “Now, about what you were saying—”

“You can remember that?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have to try harder. I must be losing my touch.”

Jane lightly smacked the side of his head and continued. “I agree with you. And I was thinking we are musicians. Maybe we could all play something together. Something new, so that we would all have to learn and practice together.”

Charles stood up and took her face in his hands, kissing her deeply. “You’re brilliant, Jane. That’s why I love you.”

Jane giggled. “I know, and that’s why I love you, because you are the only man who sees
me
, all of me.” She kissed him again. “And because you are so hot you make my toes curl.”

Moaning suddenly pierced the air. From next door, they heard Sylvie crying out as Richard made another conquest. They exchanged a look of understanding, knowing they were going to need something to hold the two bands together.

***

Charles waited until the meet-and-greet was over to make his proposal. He was worried that Richard wasn’t going to be there, but halfway through the session he emerged from the dressing room with Sylvie, who was wearing a distinctly satisfied smile as she kissed him good-bye and rejoined Anne.

“Jane and I were thinking, we are almost halfway through the tour and we haven’t done anything as a group. We thought that it would be nice for the bands to perform a song together before we leave for the break.”

“What kind of song did you have in mind?” Darcy asked impassively.

“We could do an eighties cover,” Charles suggested. “Maybe some Whitesnake!”

“We do not do covers, and we are certainly not doing Whitesnake!”

For once Elizabeth found herself in complete agreement with Darcy, as were the others.

“I’ve been writing a new song,” Jane said pleasantly. “Maybe we could do that?”

“Is it ready yet, Jane?” Elizabeth asked.

“It’s not totally finished, but if everyone would help, I could have it done in an afternoon.”

“Well, I’m game,” Richard said easily. “It sounds like fun. Char?”

Charlotte lifted up her shoulders. “Sure.”

“I’ll play, Jane,” Elizabeth said warmly, her eyes daring Darcy’s.

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, his eyes unreadable. “I’m willing to give it a try.”

Elizabeth looked away and Darcy could not tell if she was pleased or disappointed. He realized that it was unusual for him to care about the disappointments and pleasures of others, but he discovered that for some unknown reason, he was disappointed not to know Elizabeth’s reaction.

***

It was after the rehearsal and sound checks when they were ready to start on the song. Jane had just begun when Alex’s cell phone rang. He turned away to answer it, but Elizabeth was completely distracted by the call until Alex turned to her and shook his head.

“Has he called yet?” Jane asked sympathetically.

Elizabeth shook her head and shrugged.

“Who is she expecting to call?” Charles asked Jane, sotto voce.

“Oh, the director from the shoot, George Wickham. She kinda had a thing for him, and he said—”

“Wait! Did you say George
Wickham
?”

“Yes,” Jane answered, confused.

“Will!” Charles turned to his friend, his face deeply concerned. “Jane just told me the director of their video was
George Wickham
.”

Darcy turned on a surprised Elizabeth. “Is this true?” he snarled.

Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Yes, George was our director. What of it?” she said in a challenging tone. “He told us he used to sing with you. He’s a very nice man.”

“He’s not, Lizzy,” Richard hissed. “He’s nothing but a lying bastard.”

Darcy savagely kicked the nearest amplifier and wrenched out his cell phone and hit a button. “Get me Anne de Bourgh,” he growled. “
Now!
”

“Oh, you’re gonna get your boyfriend in trouble, Lizzy,” Charlotte teased.

Darcy spun around, his face turning white. “What does
that
mean?” he asked coldly.

Elizabeth stuck out her chin. “It means that George is a friend of mine. What are you doing, calling Anne de Bourgh like that?”

“That bastard is
never
to have anything to do with my band, and she knows it!” White-hot rage was coming off his body.

“Luckily, he didn’t have anything to do with
your
band,” she observed frostily. “George was directing Long Bourne Suffering, not Slurry. I suggest you try to remember that.” She closed the distance between them. “You might have been able to control him, but you will not control me.”

“You have no idea what he is capable of.”

“Maybe not, but I know what you’re capable of, to even your oldest friend.”

“Lizzy, whatever he told you, it’s a lie.”

“Is that why you’re so scared?” Elizabeth asked.

Darcy clenched his jaw and turned away, walking to his dressing room and slamming the door.

“Fuck! Fuck!” He swore, over and over again, his rage searching for release. He wasn’t surprised when Richard walked in a minute later. In truth, Darcy welcomed his company. Richard was the only other person there who knew the whole story.

Darcy flashed him a black look, but Richard knew to whom his anger was really directed.

“Well, that was exciting,” Richard said mockingly.

Darcy snorted; a moment later his fury was back. “God damn that bastard!” he growled as he threw a glass against the wall, watching with satisfaction as it shattered. “How? How the fuck did that asshole know? How the hell did he get on that shoot?”

Richard shook his head. “Come on, Will. He’s a lot of things, but he’s never been stupid.” He frowned and clenched his fists. “It’s no secret we’re on tour with them. He probably just kept his ear to the ground. You know how he is.”

“I know. The lying snake!”

Richard waited a moment, watching Darcy prowl like a caged panther. “Are you going to tell her the truth?”

“You know I can’t do that! What is going to make her believe me, anyway? Who knows what lies that bastard fed her?”

“Will! You can’t leave her to him. She doesn’t deserve that! No one does.”

“I won’t. You know I won’t,” his tone was rueful. “But I can’t let her know that I’m trying to protect her, either. That will just make her angrier and push her to him.”

“Or you could just tell her what he did.”

Darcy just shook his head.

“What are you waiting for?” Richard asked. “You know you love her. Talk to her. Tell her.”

“Oh! And you’re one to talk?” Darcy replied angrily. The two men regarded each other, eyes locked.

“Leave me out of this,” Richard said, biting off each word, and turning away.

“I just think it’s ironic that you are here giving me advice about talking to Elizabeth when you sure as hell aren’t talking to Charlotte!”

“It’s a completely different situation.”

“Yes, it is, because at least you know that Charlotte loves you!”

Richard looked at Darcy, quickly, his eyes questioning what he had heard.

“Oh come on!” Darcy said in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know this! I don’t know what the hell you are up to, putting her through hell like this, but at least you must know that.”

Richard looked away. He put his face in his hands and rubbed it tiredly. “Are you certain?” he asked weakly.

“Yes, as much as anyone can be without hearing it from the other person.”

Richard sighed out a deep breath. “Damn.”

“What’s the problem, Richard? Level with me. If you don’t love her, it would be kinder to just—”

“I wish I didn’t love her! That’s what I’ve been trying to do! Forget her!” His voice was tight with tension. “But it’s not working.”

“So, why don’t you try making it work with her? I don’t understand the problem here.”

“The problem, Will, is that I’m a bad man. I’m toxic. It was my fault she ended up with Collins. I’m no good for her.”

“I think that you should let Charlotte decide that.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Right after you tell Lizzy about Georgie.”

Darcy scowled and turned away, and Richard dropped tiredly onto the couch. “You were right, Will; we should have stayed away from them. Now look at us. All fucked up,” he snorted in bitter amusement. “Except for Chas, of course.”

“Charles is better than both of us,” Darcy pronounced in his soft dark voice. “He deserves his happiness.”

“I hope it lasts for him.”

“So do I.”

***

The next week was incredibly difficult. Tempers were short and everyone seemed to be snapping at each other. Elizabeth took every opportunity to bait Darcy for a fight, her usual good spirits having completely abandoned her.

Darcy found out through an angry phone call to Anne that Bill Collins hired Wickham to direct LBS’s video. Of course, Bill had pleaded ignorance of Darcy’s strict rules about Wickham never having any contact with Slurry, but Darcy knew it was all just a lie. George’s being there had been a setup, a classic Wickham maneuver that had succeeded perfectly.

Richard’s behavior with the flavors continued unabated, even as he pulled further away from Charlotte. Idly, Darcy kept a mental list of the women who had received Richard’s “Golden Dick” treatment: Jodi (twice), Tracey, Deidre, Tara, Leah, Julie. All had received his special attention as he had tried to forget the woman he really wanted.

Charlotte, for her part, seemed to be growing colder and more distant by the day. At one point, Elizabeth had suggested that she enjoy a flavor of her own, but she had simply looked at Elizabeth sadly and said, “It didn’t work.” Elizabeth was deeply worried for her friend and was hoping that some distance between her and Richard would help.