Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star (20 page)

“I hope so. I wasn’t sure if you could play without Jane,” he said coldly. “After all, she is the pretty one, and that’s what your fans care about, right?”

Darcy could see he had hit the target as her mouth dropped open. He casually turned away and muttered, “At least I know that Charles will get a rise from them.”

“How dare you?” she sputtered. Darcy smiled to himself before changing his expression to a scowl as he turned to face her. “Who the hell do you think you are?” she ranted.

Oh yeah, get a real good mad on for me
. He closed the distance between them and got into her personal space, their noses almost touching. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. I’m the man every single one of those people came to see, and don’t you forget it, Lizzy.”

“You arrogant fuck!” she seethed.

“Jealousy doesn’t become you, Lizzy. If you want to get ahead, you might want to try Jane’s method,” he sneered.

Darcy watched as her eyes got even larger. Before she could reply, Alex called her to the stage.

Elizabeth was too angry to say anything further to Darcy. She stormed onto the stage and directly into her first number, playing with a passion that bordered on violence.

She got through the set perfectly and was even able to cover up Charles’s occasional stumbles. With a bright smile and a wave, she left the cheering of her fans and went directly to the instrument area.

“There you are,” she announced as she closed in on him. “What the fuck was that about?” she snapped.

Darcy grinned guiltily. “You’ve got a hell of temper, Lizzy; I just helped you use it.”

Realization dawned on her. “What? You said those things
on purpose!
Why?” she demanded.

“I knew you were nervous, performing solo for the first time,” he said softly. “I also knew if I got you mad at me, you would charge right out there and be okay.”

“
You
are the most arrogant man I have ever—”

“It worked, didn’t it?” he asked as he put on his sunglasses.

“Bastard,” she huffed as she turned away.

“Don’t I get a kiss before going on?” he asked her retreating back.

The finger was her response. He laughed to himself as he moved in the opposite direction toward the stage.

***

Elizabeth went about her usual routine: cleaning and securing her guitars, showering and dressing, all the while a fierce dialogue was running in her head. When she ran out of things to do, she found herself with Jane before the banks of monitors.

Someone had brought Jane a chair, and she was smiling as she watched Charles. It was a private smile, as though she held a deep secret within. Elizabeth could make some guesses as to what that secret was, but she decided not to force Jane’s confidence. Instead she stood behind her and watched the show.

While Jane seemed peacefully content, Elizabeth was anything but. She watched Darcy playing his music confidently, with what appeared to be complete indifference, and she returned to her boil.
How dare that man do that to me!
She fumed.
What gives him the right? I was nervous, yes, but I was fine! He had no business interfering! Arrogant fuck! Control freak who thinks he has the right to bully everyone on the stupid tour!

By the time the set was over, she was ready for him. She moved with cold deliberateness to the place she knew she would find him. The instrument area was dark, and she waited there like a viper.

She didn’t surprise him. He came in, a towel draped over his shoulder, his body pumped and hard. He saw her there, her eyes glittering in the darkness. “Lizzy?” he acknowledged.

“My friends call me that,” she said coldly.

“Still pissed,” he observed as he knelt down and carefully put his Paul Reid Smith back in its case. The shining black of the guitar body flashed in the low light against his body.

“Oh, I am way beyond pissed, thank you,” she told him, her voice quivering with rage.

He looked at her a long moment, his eyes unshielded for once, but his expression closed. Carefully he turned back to his custom Martin and stored that away too. Then he rose to his feet before her.

“I did what I thought was best, Elizabeth,” he said in his low, deep voice.

Elizabeth could smell the sweat coming off him. She was reminded again, up close, just how tall he really was, but she didn’t care. “What you thought best,” she sneered. “Well, thank God for that!” she added sarcastically. “Thank God we have the great and perfect Fitzwilliam Darcy, who always knows what is best for everyone!”

Darcy took a step closer and then froze as the sounds of the people around them interrupted him. “Perhaps we could continue this discussion in a more private place,” he said coldly.

Elizabeth took a step back and gestured with her hands toward the dressing rooms. Wordlessly Darcy indicated her to go first and he followed her body, which was tight with anger, through the backstage labyrinth to the dressing area.

Elizabeth was through with polite smiles. She was going to tell him what she thought of him once and for all, and she was going to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his face if it was the last thing she did! She opened the first door she came to and flung it back. She turned to enter the room and stopped short, gasping.

She heard Darcy’s astonished “Shit!” above her as he saw what she was gawking at. Before her were Richard and Charlotte, both completely naked and joined in a most intimate embrace. Her butt was resting on the counter, her legs locked around his hips, which were pounding into her, as their mouths were joined in a hungry kiss.

Elizabeth leapt forward, grabbed and closed the door tightly, her chest heaving as if she had just run a mile. With wide eyes she stared at Darcy before she dropped her gaze and silently rushed out into the hot southern night and the safety of her tour bus.

***

“Jane?” Charles called. She sat in his dressing room and turned with a bright smile. He had changed out of his concert outfit and was wearing instead shorts and a T-shirt. His hair was still damp from his shower.

She held out her arms to him and let herself be wrapped up tight to him. “I was waiting for you,” she said softly in his ear. “You were wonderful tonight, Charles.”

Gently, he placed his forehead against hers, their noses rubbing. “I missed you, sunshine,” he told her softly.

“I missed you too,” she sighed. “I hate being sidelined like this. I can’t wait until I’m better.”

His hand slid down from where it was resting at the small of her back to lightly caress the curve of her ass. “Neither can I.”

She giggled softly and Charles regarded her, his face enchanted and curious. “What’s making you laugh, darling?” he asked her.

“I was just thinking about how special you are. How different you are from any other man I’ve been with.”

“I like the sound of that,” he grinned. “How so?”

Jane ducked her head. “Well, you’re the first man who ever told me he loved me before he slept with me.”

“The first?” he asked disbelievingly.

Jane nodded. “And when they would say it, they always used it to get something from me,” she frowned prettily, “like more sex.”

He looked at her, his blue eyes sober as he realized what she was saying. He took her hands in his, waiting until she looked up at him. “Those men never loved you, Jane, not like I do.”

“How do you know?” she asked, her voice tiny.

“Because if they did, they never would’ve let you go.”

Jane’s eyes watered at the certainty of his words. He pulled her close to him again, locking her safe in his embrace, nuzzling his cheek against her hair. “When the time is right, dearest, I’ll show you what love is.”

Jane smiled and kissed him. “Dearest love?” Charles said softly.

“Hmm?” Jane replied, her head resting on his shoulder, her lips tingling from his kisses.

“Could we please not talk about your others until after, uh, we, um, you know?” Jane looked up to see his face unhappy and embarrassed at the same time. “I’m not trying to criticize you or anything, I just, um, I just can’t take it yet.”

Jane reached up her hand to caress his face reassuringly. “There were no others, Charles,” she said solemnly. “You were right. No one has ever loved me, or been loved by me, before you.”

His eyes closed as his face softened to an expression of gratitude and he pressed her to his body. “My Jane, my beautiful Jane,” he whispered over and over to her. He was again surprised at the intensity of the love he felt for her, and his heart felt like it would bust out of his chest as he realized she returned his love. He promised himself he would protect his delicate beauty, that she would never be alone, or hurt, again.

Elizabeth stood in the crowded dining room, waiting in line for breakfast, watching Jane and Charles. They sat together, as they always seemed to lately. Although Elizabeth knew she could join them, she didn’t see the point. Jane’s attention was completely captured by the man she sat next to. Elizabeth felt a jab of envy at how Jane had become utterly enraptured with Charles, and he with her. Elizabeth couldn’t help but wish that she too could fall so deeply in love. Elizabeth knew, however, that it wasn’t going to happen. Oh, she believed in love, and at times she wished she had a relationship, but past experience had taught her that love and career didn’t mix.

Elizabeth saw that she was not the only one observing Jane and Charles. Caroline stood in the next aisle, watching the couple with a similar expression.

She waited until Caroline’s eyes met hers, and she shared a small half grin of commiseration. Caroline, for her part, looked surprised and then gave a nod of thoughtful gratitude, and the two women each found their own seats.

Elizabeth was purposefully avoiding Darcy that morning. She found she couldn’t look at him. She wasn’t angry with him anymore; rather she was ashamed of herself. Each time she saw Darcy now, all she could think of was how she had felt at that moment the night before, when they had found Charlotte and Richard in the dressing room. She was appalled by her own urges; she had wanted desperately to be fucked, and fucked by Darcy, right then and there.
She
wanted to be the one having a post-show quickie in that dressing room. Elizabeth was mortified at the idea that he might have guessed her thoughts. She resolved that the only way to get through the day was to speak to him as little as possible.

Later that day during sound check, a beautiful woman entered the room and walked onstage as Elizabeth sat offstage, warming up on her guitar. She was Elizabeth’s height but willow thin, with shining black hair tumbling down her back and tiny, delicate features, enhanced by her pale ivory skin. She wore an expensive-looking red suit that complemented her figure and coloring and made Elizabeth feel grungy in her shorts and T-shirt.

Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as the woman walked straight to Darcy, who took her into his arms in a tight embrace. “Amy!” he said, his voice surprisingly happy. “Good to see you. Come on.” Smiling, he led the woman offstage and toward his dressing room.

“Well, we won’t see him for a while,” Richard commented idly.

“Who was that?” Charlotte asked.

“Oh, that’s Amy. She and Will go back a long, long way.” He shrugged and turned. “Ronnie,” he called out, “can you take Will’s place for the sound check?”

Elizabeth looked down at her instrument until her features were under control. She was bewildered by the power of the emotions assaulting her. She felt hurt, betrayed, and disappointed. At the same time, she was disgusted at her own stupidity. Did she really think that Darcy was some kind of monk? Elizabeth had noticed that Darcy never bothered with groupies, and it had been a source of comfort to her, but did she really think the man had no sex life?

Elizabeth swallowed her disappointment and locked her hurt away. There was nothing more to be done. Any secret hopes or fantasies she might have harbored in her breast were banished. She had the dubious comfort of being certain where she stood in his regard. She was right where he had told her she was: a pretty girl with a nice voice, who was very talented.

She was surprised at the bitter hurt that she felt. When had she even thought about Darcy romantically? Elizabeth told herself that it was best this way. She was focused on her career, and getting involved with Darcy would only complicate achieving her goals. She walked to the green room and lost herself in playing her guitar.

***

The next evening, Jane appeared at dinner, hand in hand with Charles. Elizabeth noticed that for the first time she was wearing her concert outfit and instead of the white bandage Elizabeth had grown used to, there was a smaller flesh-toned one on her forehead.

“Jane! You look great!” Elizabeth said sincerely. Jane smiled shyly and let Elizabeth hug her.

“Jane said she wanted to do the meet-and-greet tonight,” Charles explained softly.

“Really?” Charlotte exclaimed, hugging Jane.

“That’s wonderful,” Elizabeth grinned. “Are you sure you are up for it?”

Jane smiled. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Elizabeth noted the way she squeezed Charles’s hand but said nothing. “You’ve been telling me about how everyone has been asking for me and, besides, I’m getting really bored with hiding out in the dressing rooms.”