“Who is the man you want?” Elizabeth drew her hand across her throat to indicate what she would do to the man in question.
“The brown, curly haired one wearing the grey jacket there,” Charlotte Lucas spat out the words, pointing out the man standing under the Union Jack.
Elizabeth patted the other woman with tired eyes. “Leave this to me. Your pain will be avenged.”
Charlotte nodded. “I think I’ll go home now.”
“You don’t want to watch?”
Charlotte shook her head vehemently.
“No prob, you go and pamper yourself. I’ll share some photos once I’m done with this heartless man.”
After Charlotte left, Elizabeth made a beeline for her target, avoiding all the posh men and perfumed women milling around or dancing in the room. When she reached the man, she touched his shoulder to get his attention. “Hi, hunk,” she cooed.
The man had deep blue eyes and angular facial features. His strong, muscular shoulders and fit body were wrapped in a tailor-made, fine quality, charcoal silk business suit. Handsome and hunky. No wonder Miss Lucas had fallen for him. But his narrow tight lips and the frown on his face suggested he was arrogant and condescending. Elizabeth’s body thrilled. She would enjoy punishing a man for the first time. She could beat him mercilessly if she wanted, and she couldn’t wait to hear him beg for leniency. “Want to dance?” She pouted seductively, brushing up against him in her flirtiest pose.
His eyes scanned her face and swept down to her chest. Then he shook his head. “No, thanks. I rarely dance.” After this curt, dismissive reply, he turned from Elizabeth and resumed listening to the other man.
“Forget about Darcy,” said the other man as he leaned towards Elizabeth. He had a charming smile and twinkling eyes, which spoke of chivalry and politeness. He was tall and wore a light grey suit. Elizabeth wouldn’t mind switching her attention to him if she didn’t have an assignment on hand. “I’d love to dance with you,” said the man. “I’m George Wickham… and you are?”
Mr. Wickham stretched out his hand, but Elizabeth shook her head, her eyes still fixed on Darcy. “Why don’t you like to dance, Mr. Darcy?” she asked in her most seductive voice.
Darcy’s cheeks turned pink and he stepped back from her. “I prefer to do my own asking. Is that clear?”
Elizabeth’s face flushed. Damn rude man, she thought, and immediately started contriving additional means to torture him later. She’d get her hands on him soon enough.
“Ignore him, my lovely lady,” Wickham wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her to the dance floor. She chewed her lip with frustration. She seldom had problems with assignments. This Mr. Darcy was annoying to the max. She would plot Level Seven torture to relieve her annoyance as well. And she had no time for this Mr. Wickham, who was an unnecessary distraction and was now starting to irritate her.
When she darted her eyes at her target again, he was heading for the door. That couldn’t happen! She couldn’t lose him. Her mission must be completed. She had to get rid of Wickham, real quick. As he tried to pull her to the dance floor, she quickly disengaged from him and pushed him towards the wall.
“So impatient?” He raised his eyebrow and grinned. As he lowered his mouth and tried to kiss hers, she nuzzled against his neck and raised her hands to his shoulders.
Then she pressed her fingers to the vein on his neck, and within seconds she had him where she wanted, unconscious like dead wood. She lowered his listless body onto a chair, and arranged him so he looked like a drunk who had fallen asleep.
Without drawing attention to anyone, she slipped out of the party and ran after her target. She caught up with him as he rounded the corner of a dark alley.
He had just pressed the remote to his sleek Mercedes SLS AMG Coupé.
She quickened her pace, followed him as he slid into the driver’s seat, then stood against the inside of the car door so he couldn’t close it.
“You don’t get away that easily!” she smiled as she grabbed the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked furiously.
She leaned towards him and stretched out her hand. He flinched and pulled back with a look of alarm in his eyes. Before he could press the horn to attract others’ attention, her fingers quickly applied pressure to the vein on his neck. Within a few seconds he too plunged into blackness. He almost slumped onto the wheel, but she caught his head. Then, with a slight push, she shifted him to the passenger seat.
With her hand on the computer screen of the car, Elizabeth commanded, “Take me back to where you come from.” The engine purred into action, and she held the wheel with a wicked smile. The mission would be completed after all.
Elizabeth enjoyed London by night. Even though it was almost midnight, people of all races, sizes and shapes thronged the city’s streets. She wouldn’t mind joining them later if she had time.
After 20 minutes zigzagging through the streets in the dark, the car drove into the garage of a two-storey stone mansion in an affluent neighbourhood. Elizabeth searched Darcy’s pocket and found some keys. She left him in the car while she skipped inside and scoured the building. Luck was on her side. He seemed to be living alone in a big, modern, masculine townhouse, with all the equipment she needed. She almost flew downstairs and, with a grin on her face, she picked Darcy up on her shoulders, and carried him upstairs.
When she reached her destination a dark grey bedroom with a huge leather bed she saw some gym equipment near the balcony. With three top bars, they were perfect for her purpose. She found a leather belt in the impeccably tidy walk-in wardrobe. Then, using her weight as leverage for Darcy to lean on, she raised his hands and tied them onto one of the top bars. Taking a deep breath after this exhausting manoeuvre, she walked into the en-suite bathroom, filled a glass with water, came out, and splashed it over his face.
He blinked open his eyes. As his pupils focused, he immediately became conscious that he was tied firmly to the gym equipment. Then he saw Elizabeth, and the muscles on his face tensed.
“What the hell?” he yelled, jerking his hands.
Elizabeth observed his struggle impassively, her arms folded across her chest.
When he tried to raise his legs onto the reclining seat which was part of the gym equipment to leverage his body up, she called out, “Hey, hey! Not so easy!”
With quick strides, she grabbed two more belts from the wardrobe and wrapped her hands around his legs to restrain him further. He swung and swayed but Elizabeth held on tight.
“Let go of me!” he growled. “Who are you?”
“Stupid man!” she murmured, as she pulled one of his legs and secured it to a vertical bar with a belt. Despite his fierce struggle, she immobilised his other leg by tying it to another bar.
“Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”
“You don’t need to know,” Elizabeth said. She grinned as she finished; she had him where she wanted. Elizabeth normally worked in the children’s department, punishing lazy school kids by taking away their toys and favourite foods. This was the first assignment she had in a new department, and she couldn’t wait to work on it. Darcy had powerful thighs and muscles. With her usual squeeze, she could render him unconscious very easily. But she needed him to be awake to endure the punishment.
Ignoring his loud protests and demands to be released, Elizabeth took a few deep breaths and searched his wardrobe again.
She returned with another leather belt and lashed his arse with it.
“Urgh!!!” He screamed in pain.
“Oh, have I used too much force?” she asked, feigning sympathy. “Well, it serves you right.”
“Why are you attacking me?”
“I don’t need to explain.”
She flicked the belt again; more lightly this time.
He didn’t flinch. “Are you mental? I don’t know you. I haven’t hurt you. Why are you doing this to me?”
Annoying man! Fine, she would remind him of his sin. “This is for leading Miss Lucas on,” she said finally.
“Who is Miss Lucas?” Darcy cried out. “I don’t know any Miss Lucas.”
“There is no need to deny it.” She snapped the belt onto his other arse cheek. “She pointed you out to me at the party. This second one was for saying cruel things about her.”
“I don’t know any Miss Lucas! Stop it, or I’ll call the police!”
“Not admitting to your wrongdoing?” Elizabeth stopped and put her hands on her hips. “You don’t feel enough pain?” She stared at him furiously. The thick winter clothes were cushioning the pain. They had to go. Throwing the belt onto the floor, she grabbed the waist of his Armani trousers from the back and tore them in two.
“Stop it, you crazy woman!” Darcy shouted hoarsely as beads of sweat trickled from his head to his nose. He was truly frightened now. He didn’t recall how he had come to return home with this beautiful but deranged woman. His last memory of the night was seeing her leaning against his car.
She must have found his address and driven him here. But how could she have dragged him up to the bedroom and tied him up? Did she have an accomplice? She belted him, ripped his pants apart and grasped his legs with arms that were as hard as lead. Was this demented woman going to attack him sexually? In his own house? And who was this Miss Lucas?
After the trousers, Elizabeth gripped the collar of Darcy’s suit and ripped the back of it away from his body with one jerk. His waistcoat, shirt and jockeys met the same fate a few seconds later as her laughter drowned his protests and shouts.
As he stood there stark naked, tied to the upper beams of the gym equipment, she picked up the belt and thrashed his arse again. He was a superb specimen, not an ounce of fat on his body. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, a pert bum, and particularly well endowed. Pity he was such a jerk, and that this fine body would soon bear the scars of his own wrongdoing. She raised the belt again.
“Stop!” His voice was hoarse, his throat tight, his hands and legs burned against the restraints and his bottom started to feel numb. “You’ve got the wrong man. I’m Fitzwilliam Darcy. I’ve never met this Miss Lucas. I’ve never hurt her.”
Elizabeth sat down on the bed, tired from the lashing. “She met you on the Internet two months ago,” she sighed.
“I don’t meet strange women on the Internet. You can check the history of my iPad or laptop.”
Elizabeth hated liars, particularly those who had no remorse. Throwing the belt onto the floor, she walked up to him and slapped his thigh.
“No!” he screamed out. A red palm mark scorched his skin. It hurt more than the belt. Who was this woman? Her hand was like iron. He panted, squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling, and bit his lip to will the pain away.
“Then you asked her out to the West End last week, to watch Les Misérables.”
Elizabeth’s fury was palpable, like a heat-seeking missile tearing through his brain. “You took her there last week.”
“No, no…” he gritted out the words, “I have been in Australia for the past month, and only came back two days ago. My passport is in the desk drawer. You can check it.”
She smacked him again, this time on the shoulder. Next time, she would slap his penis if he persisted in being stubborn. His yells turned to screams, and he swore at her with the foulest language.
But as her hand connected with his body, his words sank in.
“Yes, yes… how on earth could I have met this Miss Lucas at the West End last week if I was in Sydney?”
Elizabeth paused. Surely he was lying again. But just to be on the safe side, she searched the drawers. Finally, she found his passport and flipped it open. She immediately saw the stamp on one of the pages.
Depart 10 July 2012.
“Oh bad! Real bad!” That was just two days ago. Elizabeth mumbled as she scanned the passport, walking in circles around the desk.
“Now do you believe me?” Darcy asked weakly. “You’ve got the wrong man! Untie me right now!”
“How could this have gone so wrong?” Elizabeth stuttered, rubbing her hands over her eyes. “Oh, what should I do? And my first assignment! I’m going to hell. My God.”
“Untie me immediately!” he commanded, feeling more like his usual self.
She darted another look at him, naked, tied up, with reddened skin everywhere on his body. “Bad, bad, bad. I must go now. I’ve got to go.”
“No, you can’t leave me here like this!” Darcy bellowed as he saw the lunatic woman disappear from his bedroom and slam the door shut.
Outside the room, Elizabeth pushed the window in the corridor open, climbed through it and jumped.
With her hands spread out horizontally in front of her, she floated on air, and with a swirl of her body and a kick, she ascended into the sky.
Up, up she flew, passing clouds, birds and pollen. Finally, she reached the seventh level of Heaven and landed on the white turf of her leader.
“My dear Meesterstuk, Elizabeth Bennettocentem comes to report an alarming incident.” She bowed her head, with hands clenched tightly behind her back.
Meesterstuk cut in before she could continue.
“You are on your first assignment, to answer a prayer for justice.”
“Did you not meet up with the devoted and faithful human?”
“I fear I have bungled my first assignment.” Her lips trembled.
Meesterstuk walked up to Elizabeth and surveyed her for a second as if she were an exhibit in some art gallery. “Tell me everything, from the beginning.”
She drew in a deep breath. “My mission was to punish the cruel, heartless man who hurt Miss Charlotte Lucas of Meryton, upon the faithful woman’s plea for help.”
“She was led on by this man she befriended on Facebook about two months ago. She had sent him money when he said he was in a bit of a tight spot.”
“The man seduced her with words in the cybersphere, but when she finally met him face to face, he told her she was plain, like a piece of paper, totally unexciting and sexually unappealing.”
“Miss Lucas was greatly hurt by the words, and prayed for justice to be done to this man. You answered her prayer and assigned me, as her avenger because she has been a loyal follower of Heaven since the age of four.”
“All seems to be well thus far.”
Elizabeth shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Miss Lucas took me to a party in a wealthy woman’s house in London tonight, and pointed out the man to me, a Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.” She remembered her target telling her his full name. Sweat started to trickle down her breasts.
“But when I secured the offending man at his home and dealt him the punishment, he protested that he did not know a Miss Lucas.”
Meesterstuk shook his head. “The callous man probably lies to avoid punishment. They all do. Men are like that.”
“I thought so as well,” Elizabeth nodded eagerly, “but when he begged me to explain the reason for his punishment…”
“You are aware we do not need to explain anything. Offending humans will know deep in their hearts how guilty they are.”
“I thought so myself, but he was unbelievably stubborn. So I reminded him Miss Lucas and he had met on the Internet and that they had spent their last fateful evening in the West End last week,” Elizabeth whispered. “He told me he was in Australia then.”
“Another lie, probably.”
“He begged me to check his passport.” The tone of Elizabeth’s voice started rising. “The stamp and date seem to be genuine.”
“What?” Meesterstuk exclaimed. “How could this happen? How could this have gone wrong?”
“That was what I thought as well. Which is why I returned immediately to ask for your further instructions.”
Meesterstuk rubbed his jaw and paced around in circles. “Let me check on tonight’s footage.” He then grabbed a tiny piece of cloud, shaped it with his hand into a round pad, and tapped on it. They called this Skypad. A giant floating picture appeared on the white turf on which they were standing. They looked down at it together, like two gods surveying the earth. The image showed Elizabeth’s descent to earth and how she had met up with Charlotte and persuaded the earth woman she could help take revenge for the hurt meted out to her. Next, they appeared at the party, where Miss Lucas pointed out Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth approached him.
“Grey, Elizabeth Bennettocentem! Miss Lucas said grey.” He pointed his finger at the two men standing next to each other in the party.
“But Darcy was wearing grey.”
“No! The one you approached, this Mr. Darcy, was wearing charcoal! Charcoal is not grey. It is darker.”
Elizabeth’s entire body quivered at her leader’s loud yell. She had never seen the avenging god this angry. She would be dead, again. In an attempt to avoid the fate that befell those who didn’t carry out Meesterstuk’s orders, she protested weakly, “How was I to know there are so many shades of grey?”
“Charcoal is not grey,” he repeated. “It is dark, like black! There are many shades of grey, more than fifty, at least.... Such a simple assignment, and you messed it up so badly. Have you dealt Mr. Darcy the punishment?”
She nodded, lamely.
“How many times did you whip him? An innocent man? We can’t have this happening. My star rating will be in jeopardy.”
“My Meesterstuk, I am so sorry. Please do not be too harsh on me. It is my first job. I am still learning. I will be more careful in future.” Elizabeth could not stop babbling.
“But you have been an avenger for almost two years.”
“I dealt only with children in the past. They seem a lot easier to deal with than men.”
“My section strives to achieve perfection! Your huge mistake will bring down our rating. What if I was marked with one star?” Meesterstuk threw the Skypad and smashed it against the wall of white ivy. Fire and air were streaming out of his ears, his face turned green, and his body doubled. On earth, lightning, thunder and hail rained down on terrified humans dashing everywhere.
“I am sorry, so very sorry. I am willing to be punished. To do whatever it takes to maintain the department’s five-star rating.” Elizabeth bowed her head, partly in shame and partly because she didn’t want the avenging god to eat her and spit out the pieces as hailstones on earth.
The green giant grabbed another piece of cloud to form a new Skypad and typed frantically.
“I will send my favourite, Lydia Youngschlutt, to avenge Miss Lucas. She will deal with Wickham in the only way we know: an eye for an eye. I now return you to earth for one life. You will belong to Mr. Darcy from now on, until he sends you away.”
Elizabeth felt relieved. At least Meesterstuk had spared her angelic form; and she wasn’t being sent to hell. Nevertheless, she was curious about what her punishment entailed.
“Belong to Mr. Darcy? How?”
“However he wants it. He is entitled to redress the punishment you wrongly handed out to him, so you don’t have a choice in this. Now go!”
“But he’s an arrogant jerk.”
“Yes, but one you have hurt. I shall erase his memory so he won’t feel the pain too much. But sometimes it may not work completely, and his body may still bear the scars. If he resents you and hurts you back, you have to bear that and obey him. Is that clear?”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. To be spared from hell was good, but to spend a lifetime at Mr. Darcy’s beck and call was a prospect too painful to consider. She opened her mouth to argue her case again, but Meesterstuk dismissed her with a flick of his hand that sent her tumbling out of his turf. “Now, off you go to the Earth Gate to await your turn to be human again.”
After some bounds and rolls, someone helped her to her feet.
“Are you all right, my dear?”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth gasped, catching her breath. “Magdalene Clarkyndnes?” Elizabeth remembered helping the elderly goddess once, when her little guardian angel went missing. Elizabeth had found the boy cherub hiding in a playground on Earth.
“Yes, you still remember me?”
The young angel nodded.
“I heard Meesterstuk’s words,” said Goddess Magdalene.
Elizabeth winced. “It was my fault. There’s not much I can do.”
“I will help you.”
“I can tamper with his instructions and leave you with some angelic powers, so at least you won’t become Mr. Darcy’s slave.”
Elizabeth hugged the friendly goddess tightly.
“These aren’t serious powers, but they will help you to defy Mr. Darcy from time to time.” The older goddess winked.
“Thank you! You are my saviour.”
“Now, off you go. I promise to work on it as soon as possible.”
Elizabeth nodded and gave Magdalene another hug before going to the Gate of Human Suffering.
Darcy shifted his weight onto the other shoulder, and winced as pain shot through his body. He had never felt this befuddled and confused in his entire thirty-five years of existence. One minute he had been nursing a glass of whiskey at a party, trying to prevent slimy George Wickham from swindling more money out of him to finance another of Wickham’s hare-brained financial schemes. The next minute a gorgeous brunette with curves ripe for fondling came onto him, hard. If she hadn’t flirted so shamelessly, he would have bought her a drink and chatted her up, assessing her suitability as the girlfriend of one of Britain’s wealthiest billionaires. But her fake sultry voice and whorish attitude had really turned him off. In fact, he’d been relieved when Wickham intervened with his womanising ways and led her to the dance floor.
But with a blink of his eyes, he found the woman lean against his car door, preventing him from leaving. What happened after that was a blur, and his mind was still confused. He must have fallen ill suddenly, he thought; perhaps a nasty virus had attacked his nerves, rendering him unconscious. He couldn’t recall the journey home, or how he had sustained the injuries to his body.
His next conscious and clear-headed moment was finding himself naked, lying on his tummy in bed, his body wracked with pain. Mustering all his resources, he had dragged himself to the bathroom. There, his eyes widened in horror as he saw his own reflection in the mirror.
Turning his head to examine the source of the pain that radiated from his back and buttocks, he saw the imprints of palms across his shoulder and thigh, and a crisscross of red lashes spread across his butt. His shoulders and legs hurt like hell, and yet, seeing the bloody scars on his skin, he felt strangely aroused. He also smelt of citrus fragrance, which reminded him of the woman from the party. An image of her laced in a tight leather miniskirt and a revealing bodice and holding a whip flashed through his mind. Had she followed him home and harmed him? Was she a sex maniac? How could he not remember any of it? Had he been drugged at the party?
He shook his head and splashed some water on his face.
Darcy had never fantasised about being dominated by a woman in bed before. He preferred to be in control, both in and outside the bedroom. As he had grown older and richer, with self-made millions increasing the significant pile of his family’s old money, he had become increasingly bored with the women he dated and bedded. They tended to dye their hair in hundreds of shades of blonde. They all had perfectly shaped breasts, sported conspicuously rebellious tattoos on their backs, necks, breasts and hips, and flaunted anorexic bodies with gaunt faces and spindly legs. Worst of all was their habit of wearing big dangling earrings and wobbly high heels that superficially elevated their stature. Darcy knew that his money was enough incentive for them to get their gear off as quickly as possible, and sometimes, two or three of them would throw themselves at his feet. He never went for that. Darcy felt a little nauseous by the easy availability of sex. Sex should be more than sex. Besides the animal release, he wanted to feel a connection. Unfortunately, he had never felt deeply about anyone before.
In his twenties, Darcy had gone through these women almost monthly, but, as the years advanced, the regularity of his sexual romps diminished. Like now, he had not cradled a woman in his arms for over eighteen months. He attended business functions mostly with his younger sister, Georgiana. Perhaps he had imagined this leather-clad, pint-sized brunette from the previous night because he hadn’t been with a woman for so long. He should consult his old black book and take one of the dolls out for a date.
He sighed and limped back to his bed.
Even the short journey from the bathroom to the bed sent excruciating pain through Darcy’s body. Now he lay on the bed, panting. He couldn’t do anything until his body healed, and he’d have to suffer the embarrassment of calling his family doctor, Dr. Forster, to check his wounds. Some of the lacerations looked deep, and he didn’t want them to get infected.
Darcy was fuming after the doctor’s examination and curious questioning about his injuries. Dr. Forster said his shoulder was dislocated, and shouldn’t be moved for at least two weeks, or maybe more. He would probably be spared the cast, but with the heavy bandage on his shoulder and heaps of them stuck to his buttocks, Darcy would need someone to take care of him, drive him to hospital for x-rays the next day, feed him, bathe him and so on.
Now he was waiting for the private live-in nurse the doctor had arranged for him. His housekeeper and her husband, who was his driver, were on holiday in California, so he had to rely on a stranger for help.
He couldn’t call his cousin Richard or best friend Charles to help him out. His sister Georgiana was out of the question too. There was no way he would be able to explain away his injuries. He had to lay low for a while, work from home, and rely on this nurse. He hoped the doctor had found him a nice one.
“Mr. Darcy!” The sweet voice of a young girl sounded promising as she entered the house. She’d let herself in with a set of keys Darcy had given the doctor to pass on to her, so he wouldn’t need to hobble to the front door for her.
As she strode gaily into Darcy’s room, his mouth dropped and he froze.
Standing in front of him, framed by the door, was his torturer, the woman who had flailed him senseless just the night before.
How could the doctor send him his tormentor? Darcy clenched his fists as his adrenaline rose and he felt himself preparing to bolt.
“Mr. Darcy, I’m Elizabeth Bennet, the nurse Doctor Forster engaged to look after you.”
The woman spoke in a pleasant voice, and was friendly and courteous, as if she was meeting him for the first time. How could that be? She looked so much like that woman with the whip. Or had he dreamt up the entire thing? Of course, he couldn’t remember being tied up or lashed. But the injuries on his wrists and ankles, and other parts of the body, were clear testimony that he had been beaten black and blue. And why did this nurse, a supposed stranger, look so very familiar?
Miss Bennet was dressed in a pink nurse’s uniform, very prim and proper. The buttons were all in their proper place, with not a glimpse of flesh in sight, except for her arms and legs. The dress wasn’t tight either, and her generous bosom and hourglass hips were well concealed. How could she pretend to be innocent when it was quite clear she was the one who had injured him?
“Are you feeling well, Mr. Darcy?” she asked. “Should I fetch you some painkillers? Doctor Forster said you need rest.”
He clamped his mouth shut. Suddenly a wave of anger assaulted him. He wanted to tear off her uniform, tie her up, and whip her just as she had done to him. But then, even as he contemplated murdering her, he was suddenly transfixed by the innocence in her eyes, and his anger abated. The tightness in his body seemed to slip away by a notch, but the urge to strip her naked, tie her up and whack her as she’d whacked him was still there.
Besides the revenge, he wanted to fuck her senseless until she screamed in ecstasy and begged for mercy. As he contemplated the idea his groin stirred and he was instantly aroused. Luckily, he was lying down with the bed sheet covering him. Damn it! How had he come to crave torturing a woman for sexual kicks? He’d never had this kind of inclination before. And she was his nurse. She was here to take care of him, not to be used as a sexual toy. If they slept together while he was her patient, she’d lose her nurse’s licence. She looked too young to be slammed with such a record.
“How old are you, Miss Bennet?”
She came into the room. “You can call me Elizabeth. I’m twenty-five, and I’ve been a private nurse for two years. You can be assured of my qualifications and experience.”
She looked much younger, like right out of university. “And who were your past patients?”
“I worked mainly with children before; young kids with long-term illnesses, so I’ve only had five patients before. I have reference letters from my patients at home if you need to check them out.”
Was she as innocent as she looked? “Where do you live?” His tone was suddenly harsh and abrupt.
Her eyes flashed, displaying a trace of impatience. Ah ha, the angelic nurse had a temper beneath her ultra-efficient armour. “Meryton.”
He wouldn’t mind using his business shark tactics to stir up her emotions. After all, he couldn’t move much. He would have fun with her verbally. “Any brothers or sisters?”
Elizabeth pouted her lips. It was almost a sulk. “Am I being interviewed? Dr Forster told me you agreed to a private nurse.”
“The contents of my house are worth millions, I have to be sure whom I allow in here.”
“Then you shouldn’t have given the keys to Dr. Forster earlier,” Elizabeth said flippantly, reaching for the keys in her pocket and dangling them in front of his eyes to make her point.
“I should have asked Dr. Forster for an obedient private nurse,” he replied. His eyes darkened, as he stared at her. “I require absolute devotion from my employees.”
“You’re lucky to find me at such an hour. I had a cancellation, otherwise, you’d be left without any care for the month.”
“I’m not sure if I’m lucky to be saddled with a mouthy nurse.”
“I’ll make allowances for your rudeness; the pain must be getting to you.” She walked around the bed to the window. Darcy’s eyes followed the gentle swish of her hips as she passed him. With a flick of her hands, she drew the curtain almost fully closed, plunging the room into near darkness. But Darcy could still see her quite clearly through the light that penetrated the gap in the curtains, especially with her light uniform and pure white skin. “I have four sisters. My parents and younger sisters live in Meryton. My eldest sister and I rented a place in Camden. Now, if you don’t need something for the pain, you should try to sleep. Do you need anything else?”
“I’m not sleepy yet.” Seeing her heading for the door, he raised his voice. “Sit, and we will talk,” he said. He was not done interrogating her yet.
“Do you have a dog?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because the way you say ‘sit!’ suggests you’re used to ordering dogs around.
She glissaded again, back to the armchair by the window and sat on it. She was still pouting.
His breathing turned ragged. She was the perfect distance from the bed. The light peeking through the curtain had a spotlight effect on her hair and body. His eyes feasted on her. She sat with her arms on her lap, and her legs were at an angle to one side. It was the posture of a perfect lady. He liked that; in a strange way, it excited him.
“I developed that tone by employing tens of thousands of staff,” he said.
She rolled her eyes and turned her head slightly aside. “Now what do you want to talk about? The latest movies, sir? The final instalment of Twilight?”
As if he would watch vampires! He didn’t even believe in God, despite his strict Christian education. “What do your parents do?”
“Are you interviewing for a nurse or for a student?”
“You can’t stay if your parents are in the Mafia.”
Elizabeth chuckled. “I didn’t know that you had a sense of humour.” Elizabeth’s rippling laughter and her compliment elated Darcy, even if she was being sarcastic.
She continued, “My father teaches Philosophy at the University of Meryton. My mother is a housewife.”
An academic? Respectful profession. Good. Her family might past muster. “And your older sister?”
She crossed her legs. Darcy, observing the ripple of the muscles on her slim, long legs, suddenly felt rather thirsty.
“Jane is an accountant.” Another tick to the background test to become his girlfriend.
“Your younger sisters are still at school?”
“One’s in university; the other two are in secondary school.”
“That’s absolutely none of your business!” Elizabeth, exclaimed, her curly brown hair bouncing as if to accentuate her indignation.
“You can’t work here either, if your beau accepts stolen goods.”
“Your worldly possessions and you can go to hell. I’m only sitting here because I have to repay my student loans.” Her chest heaved – lovely movements, allowing Darcy to better discern the shape of her breasts! Blood surged towards his groin.
“No existing boyfriend, I assume. Usually, women can’t stop telling others about their boyfriends, if they have one.”
Her fingers clenched into fists. “Your psychology 101 sucks.” She felt like smacking him.
“How many ex-boyfriends?”
She folded her arms under her chest, pushing the two jugs forward. They were stunning just perfect for his palms. Pity he couldn’t move much. He lifted his butt off the bed slightly to relieve the tension in his penis.
“How about you, Mr. Arrogant Darcy? I bet there are thousands of women in your life.”
“Fifty girlfriends a year, since I turned 15, but I’m not a loose cannon. Now, my psychology 101 says you may have only one or two exes.”
“That’s none of your concern!”
He licked his lips, wishing he could see the blush on her face and hear how many boyfriends she had. A thrill ran through his body. No matter. He would enjoy teaching her if she was short of skills in that department; if she wasn’t, he would be happy to take on any challenges she threw at him. Either way, he was going to have a whole lot of fun. He did concede she looked somewhat virginal, which was good, because nothing turned him on more than good, old-fashioned innocence.
“Now that we have established there are no skeletons in your cupboard, we can move onto the next area,” he said somewhat condescendingly.
“Yeah right,” she mumbled dismissively.
“You have to cultivate respect for your employer, young woman. You obviously haven’t learned that working with children.” He enjoyed taunting her, secretly hoping she would lose her temper.
“What about your respect towards women?”
“I take women seriously if they behave themselves as seriously.”
“Now you’re sounding like my 100-year-old English teacher from secondary school! Mr. Collins thought discipline was the only way to motivate students. This is the 21st century!”
The word discipline traveled straight to Darcy’s crotch, arousing him even more. He could imagine putting her across his lap, his tan hand on her creamy skin, ready to slap her bare bouncy bottom. He rubbed his penis against the bed. “You’ve got an attitude; a mind of your own. I’m not sure that will sit well with your position in my household. I demand absolute obedience.”
“Have you had your servants and maids locked up in the basement? With chains?”
Another image of Elizabeth nude, shackled with leather and chains against a brick wall, flashed through his mind. What was happening to him? Had he exchanged his boredom with the mirage of a kinky hot nurse tied up and taunted for his own perverse pleasure?
“So loyalty is not high on your list of virtues?”
“I’m your nurse, not your puppy,” she seethed. “Loyalty has nothing to do with it.”
“That’s not true. What if you told the gossip magazines about what goes on inside here?”
“Now you have added paranoia to your list of virtues. Maybe I should ring Dr. Forster to get you a psychiatrist, pronto. I don’t want to lose my nursing license by gossiping about you.”
“The media would pay a fortune if you told them what happened last night. In the past they’ve even paid people to check my rubbish bins. The money this story would generate would be enough to repay your loans a hundred times.”
“Ah, you’re worried I’ll talk about certain inclinations you have?”
“What inclinations? What did Dr. Forster tell you?” Darcy raised his voice.
“He had to be truthful. We are both in the medical profession, and I won’t accept a job if I don’t know the patient’s full history.” She stared at him like a bored middle-aged nurse instructing a patient on how to take his medication. “He believes you received the wounds to your bottom by participating in sexual games. But the cause of the injuries to your shoulder and thigh seemed a little more difficult to classify. These injuries were too severe to have been inflicted by hands; yet there were palm marks, probably those of a woman. Anyway, Dr Forster doesn’t believe you are inclined towards male partners.”
Darcy drew in a deep breath. How could Dr. Forster discuss his involvement in so-called sexual games when he’d never participated in any. If he was the victim of a sexual crime, he didn’t want her to pity him. “So, you still accepted the job, thinking I may have strange sexual inclinations?”
“As I told you, I had a cancellation, which does not sit well with the status of my student loans. And if Dr. Forster’s assumption is correct, why should I worry? You’re the one who wants to be whipped and dominated by women.”
“Have you ever had such a desire before? To dominate a man?” Darcy was surprised at his own question. But he felt liberated and was now quite eager to talk to her about his injuries, and perhaps a newfound sexual inclination. “Have you… ever felt the urge to belt a man’s naked butt?”
Elizabeth rose primly from the chair and pursed her lips, “That’s a topic I absolutely don’t need to discuss with you.” Then she walked out of the bedroom, and slammed the door shut loudly.
He’d penetrated her defences and was enjoying seeing her angry. Now, as she re-entered the room, he was delighted to see the crimson flush on her face and a slight vulnerability that had not been there before. Her lips seemed wet and her nipples were straining at the starched exterior of her uniform. Miss Elizabeth Bennet might be more innocent than she wanted him to believe, judging by her immediate physical reaction to a few naughty words. But Darcy was enjoying this reaction immensely.
He let his imagination have free rein, and rubbed his body slowly against his bed as he pictured tying her on the bed and plunging into her tight, wet entrance. Squeezing his eyes shut, he could almost feel the tightness enveloping his shaft. Suddenly, he imagined her pink uniform strewn in pieces on the floor, and froze. As his nurse, she would need to change his bed sheets. He didn’t want to come on the bed and let her see the evidence. When he came, he wanted to be inside her!
You can continue reading in The Angel Sees Grey
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