For the Love of Mr Darcy Read online

  FOR THE LOVE OF MR. DARCY

  (Twelve Book Bundle)

  CHERA ZADE

  With

  Delaney Jane

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Desiring Mr. Darcy

  Devouring Mr. Darcy

  Demanding Mr. Darcy

  Dominated by Mr. Darcy

  Disarmed by Mr. Darcy

  Delirious for Mr. Darcy

  Dared by Mr. Darcy

  Debauchery with Mr. Darcy

  Destined for Mr. Darcy

  Welcome Home Mrs. Darcy

  Alone with Mr. Wickham

  A Wicked Dream of Mr. Wickham

  BONUS STORIES

  Maid for Darcy

  At Darcy’s Service

  For Darcy’s Pleasure

  Other Stories You Might Like

  Copyright © 2019, CHERA ZADE

  All rights reserved.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  DESIRING MR. DARCY

  Elizabeth Bennet stood behind her sister, Jane’s, chair, twisting her light hair into playful yet poised curls around her face. Jane toyed with a powder box, opening and closing the lid with a click each time. In the mirror, Elizabeth could see her younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty, in their stockinged feet digging through a chest full of dresses.

  Kitty grabbed up a dress of pink lace, and in the same moment, Lydia took hold of it as well. Like any loving sisters close in age, they glared at one another, took great breaths, and began to yell about who would wear the pink lace dress.

  Jane smiled at Elizabeth in the mirror, neither one of them in the mood to interject. When their mother came running into the room, her hair still in pins, it was she who settled the matter of the dress, taking it in hand and scolding the young women.

  “Mr. Bingley,” she said, brandishing the dress at the pair of them. “Won’t want to marry either of you if you carry on in such a childish manner. “Put some clothes on, or we leave without you.”

  “It isn’t fair!” cried Lydia. “That is the only dress for me. I won’t wear another!”

  “Fine,” snarled Mrs. Bennet. “Go naked. Perhaps that will win Mr. Bingley over.”

  Mrs. Bennet laughed, and Lydia pouted.

  Their mother turned adoring eyes on her eldest daughters and smiled. “My dear, Jane, you look lovely! There isn’t a chance Mr. Bingley won’t fall instantly in love with you!”

  With another scowl at Lydia and Kitty, Mrs. Bennet left the room. The younger girls silently searched for a dress to wear to the Meryton ball. They took it in turns to hold different dresses up to their naked bodies and pose in front of the tall mirror.

  Jane and Elizabeth, having already dressed in simple gowns for the evening, had only to finish their hair and watch the others make themselves ready.

  While all of the Bennet sisters had fancied the idea of becoming Mrs. Bingley upon hearing of his moving into Netherfield recently, it was Jane that seemed a most suitable match, and therefore the one whose nerves were higher than even their mother’s. Not that Kitty and Lydia had agreed to such a plan. They were still of the opinion that one of them should be his wife. But it was also true that they were young and only cared about dancing and having partners with which to enjoy those dances.

  No, this was a conversation between the elder sisters on the night of Bingley’s arrival in Hertfordshire. Jane was eldest, and so she should be the one to marry Bingley.

  This decision left Elizabeth feeling quite relaxed, as they got ready for the ball. Her only goal for the evening was to make sure Jane was in Bingley’s sights as often as possible without making it seem obvious.

  She did not make this known to her sister. Jane was too sweet to let Elizabeth spend her night setting her up with the handsome Mr. Bingley. And so, while dressing, Lizzy had made sure that Jane’s white dress sat low enough to reveal the perky round tops of her breasts, her collarbones sharp and defined. Her dress fell around her hips and hugged her rump as she walked. Her hair was now piled at the back of her head, curls around her face and falling down her bare neck making for a beautiful frame. For herself, Lizzy had worn a simple gown of deep blue, her hair not so elegant as Jane’s, but still up and falling in soft curls.

  It was not Lizzy’s night. It was a night for Jane to shine. So when she finished, and Jane left the room to show Mama the finished product, Elizabeth turned to her younger sisters, appraising them silently, and making sure they did not surpass Jane in looks. She needn’t have worried; even when done up to look like angels, the girls never truly measured up to the beauty that was Jane Bennet. No one did.

  Mrs. Bennet popped her head into the room as Lizzy buttoned the back of Kitty’s dress. “Come on, girls! I will not be late because of your silliness!”

  Jane clutched Lizzy’s hand the whole bumpy ride into Meryton, her brow creased ever so slightly.

  For all of Mrs. Bennet’s hurrying them, they arrived at the ball amidst a throng of partygoers, all of them crowding into the doorway to gain entry.

  “Now we shall have missed Mr. Bingley!” their mother cried. The girls hurried after their mother.

  Kitty and Lydia squealed at the music, the fashion, the men. Mary, the middle child, looked about the ballroom solemnly. Jane and Lizzy brought up the rear, Jane still holding on to Lizzy’s hand. Once inside, Lydia and Kitty disappeared among those dancing, while Mary was to be found in deep conversation with some of the elderly women in a corner.

  Their friend, Charlotte Lucas, soon joined Jane and Lizzy. She hurried over to them as graciously as she could, and then took them by the hands.

  “He is here! Just arriving now! Come see!” And she led them toward the front of the room where a path was being made as if by some invisible force. Lizzy craned her neck to see better the party that had arrived and was somehow able to quiet an entire ball.

  Mr. Bingley smiled at the room, his eyes bright in the dazzling candlelight. Behind him stood two women and a dapper man. Sir William bounded over to Mr. Bingley and greeted him graciously. In the same moment, the music picked back up, and those on the floor began to dance again.

  Mr. Bingley smiled and shook hands with those introduced to him, bowing to the ladies. Lizzy watched, looking for her mother so she could make the proper introductions to Jane, when a tall man stepped up beside Mr. Bingley. Handsome and quite noble looking, Lizzy watched the man move about with Mr. Bingley’s party, bowing curtly to anyone he was introduced to.

  “Who is that man?” Lizzy asked Charlotte.

  “That’s Mr. Darcy,” Charlotte said, a slight giggle in her throat. “Mr. Bingley’s friend, and quite rich. Ten thousand a year! And single!”

  “And gorgeous!” said Lydia, as she slipped between their group, rejoining Kitty on the dance floor.

  Lizzy rolled her eyes. Though the man was gorgeous, as Lydia said, she was not here to ogle rich men. She was here to make sure Mr. Bingley and her sister were well acquainted.

  She needn’t have worried, though, for as Mr. Bingley and his party made their way around the room, just about to pass the eldest Bennet sisters, Bingley stopped, his gaze falling onto the beautiful Jane Bennet.

  Elizabeth watched, in rapt attention, as Mr. Bingley found someone he kn
ew to introduce him. Polite bows were made, asking after each other’s well being.

  Before they left, Bingley assured Jane he would be dancing with her soon enough.

  Spirits high, Lizzy made to turn away with her sister, but she caught the eye of the handsome Mr. Darcy. He held her gaze a moment longer, before glancing away, his dark eyes now surveying the room.

  His look unsettled her slightly, but she could not dwell long. She danced several dances with agreeable partners and sat for several others when men were scarce. She watched, happily, as Jane danced two dances in a row with Mr. Bingley.

  During one of those dances where Lizzy sat out, she took up an empty chair by the cold, empty fireplace, resting her feet. On the other side, just visible past the mantelpiece, appeared Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.

  “Darcy,” Bingley smiled, clapping his friend on the back. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen anything here that could entice a man with your tastes. This room is filled with pretty ladies, all of them, I’m sure, ready and willing to dance with you, if not more.”

  Elizabeth peered around the mantle to watch the men speak. They looked out over the crowd of flushed, happy faces.

  Darcy’s lip curled. “You, my friend, are dancing with the only pretty lady in the room.”

  “Ah, I do not disagree. But, surely there is some fine lady her to tempt you? What of her sister? Do you not find Elizabeth Bennet handsome as well?”

  Lizzy hid her face.

  “She is tolerable,” said Darcy. “But she is not pretty enough to tempt me. I am not looking for a wife, and she seems fit only for that.”

  “Come now, Darcy. You can’t still be playing this game?”

  “It is not a game, I assure you. Countrywomen are only looking for one thing, and that is a husband with deep pockets. Elizabeth Bennet can be no different than the rest of her family,” he said. “Save for your Jane,” he amended.

  Lizzy, her face flushing with anger at his words, leaned forward to sneak a peek at the men. Bingley smiled, shaking his head.

  “My dear friend, you will one day be swept away by a woman and these games of yours will end.”

  “Think what you will. But until that happens, I assure you, there is no woman here that can satisfy my particular needs.”

  With that, Mr. Bingley left his friend by the mantle and, Lizzy saw with some lightened spirit, found Jane among a small group of friends. A moment later, Mr. Darcy crossed in front of Elizabeth, making his way out of the main room.

  Having a truly enthusiastic love for the ridiculous, Lizzy at once found her friends and regaled them with a recounting of what Darcy thought of her, and, she concluded, of himself.

  She danced several more times, and then, breathless and pink-faced, found her way to a tray of drinks. She took a glass of some sweet wine and sipped. At one point, as seemed to always be the case, her mother, having had too much to drink, began to regal those nearest her with tales of her daughters marrying rich men and how it would be she who would make it all happen.

  Before anyone could look around and find Elizabeth close enough to call over, she turned, found a set of stairs, and climbed them, not caring where they led.

  On the landing all was quiet and dark. Another staircase led higher, to the floor above, but Elizabeth remained on the shadowed landing, hidden from below, where a cool breeze flowed down from the upper floor.

  From there, she could hear only her mother’s crass laugh as it carried over the music and the laughter and the dancing. From there, Elizabeth was safe.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hiding.” The voice was deep and quiet, and came from the dark on the stairs above her.

  Elizabeth just managed not to scream or drop her glass. Ready to run down the stairs if need be, she stared up into the dark as a tall man with wide shoulders made his way toward her.

  Mr. Darcy stopped in front of her, crowding her on the small landing, his dark eyes glittering in the shadows.

  Elizabeth straightened her shoulders. “You know better?”

  “Is it not every lady’s joy to be frolicking with others at some party or another?”

  “Oh, I’ve frolicked. But one can only do so much frolicking before needing a break.” He made her incredibly uncomfortable, and remembering that he had called her tolerable put a definite sour taste in her mouth.

  He stared down at her, too close.

  “Your friend is lovely,” she said, nodding at the ballroom below where she could see only the shadows of people dancing.

  “Indeed. And quite rich, but you knew that. More money than he could possibly know what to do with. I assume much of his popularity tonight comes from the knowledge of his large fortune.”

  Lizzy glared up at him, and then, her smile dripping with contempt said, “You are nearly twice as rich, and yet I hear no one commenting on how much they enjoy your company.”

  His mouth quirked slightly at the corner. “That is because I am not a fool, like Bingley. He is a great friend, to be sure, but he is a fool, Miss Bennet. He is new to having such a fortune. He does not yet understand the need for some form of protection.”

  “So your foul mood is protection?”

  He steps closer, forcing Lizzy to take a step back. “If I were kind and agreeable, would you not wish to make my acquaintance? Would you not begin to picture yourself the new Mrs. Darcy?”

  “I would not,” she spat.

  “You lie. I know people, Miss Bennet. I know how they think and what they are after. Men wish to befriend me, and women wish to marry me, but it is all for money, for a better situation. I prefer to dash those hopes from the start.”

  Elizabeth stared up at him, her wine shaking in her hand. How dare he assume so much about her?

  “You are despicable.”

  “I am safe,” he said. “I have all the friends I shall ever need, and if there is need of a woman, I know several who not only do not wish to be my wife, but match me where it counts.”

  “And where is that?”

  His eyes flashed. “In the bedroom, of course.”

  Elizabeth’s face warmed in the darkness. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with a man she barely knew, in such an intimate setting.

  “I am not like other women,” she said, setting her chin.

  “Meaning that unlike most of the ladies here tonight, you are not after my money or you could please me in the bedroom?”

  Thinking that he expected her to gasp and run away screaming, Elizabeth stood her ground and glared up at him. She would not be bullied by some rich snob.

  “Since you claim to know better, I shall let you deduce what you will about my character.”

  He cocked an eyebrow, and then looked her over, his eyes coming to rest on hers. “Perhaps I was wrong in my first assumption. Maybe you are one of the few who are not out for men’s money. If that is the case, then you must harbor some intellect. From our short time together, I will suppose this to be true, though to know the full extent, I would need to spend more time with you.”

  Elizabeth laughed. Darcy went on.

  “To the latter, I have not yet met a lady of standing to possess an appetite to match my own.”

  She made no comment to this, her stomach tightening as improper thoughts chased each other through her mind.

  “So, since you are still here, having this conversation with me—a despicable man,” he said, taking another step closer, forcing her back. She bumped against the wall, pressing into it. “You are either after my money—”

  “I am not,” she said, vehemently.

  “That remains to be seen. Your family is not making a great case for you…”

  Elizabeth could not hold his gaze at this. In that moment of silence, she could hear her mother’s laughter carrying up to them.

  “Or,” he went on. “You are curious about my appetites.”

  She swallowed, barely meeting his eyes. “I—I am not.”

  His eyes raked down over her, lingerin
g on her breasts, which rose and fell quickly with her breath.

  “Shall I test your resolve?”

  “I daresay you should not,” she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. She glanced down the stairs, her only means of escape should she need it. There was a party full of people down there, just a shout away. Everything about this was improper. Why was she not leaving?

  “Miss Bennet,” he whispered, moving closer still so that she could smell the horse on him, the clean traces of a fresh bath, the musky scent of man. “I have now given you far more time than I have most of the people in this room. You led me to believe that you were an intellect and not after my money.”

  “Because I am not after it.” She would have stamped her foot if it were not so childish to do so.

  “Which leads me to believe that your interests lie somewhere else.” His hand flashed out, his fingers dancing briefly along the lowest part of her stomach. She gasped, squeezing her thighs together as her sex tightened.

  Meeting his eyes, Elizabeth had the thought that she should throw the rest of her drink in his face and run into the ball, away from him. But she did not do that. Instead she held his gaze, meeting his challenge.

  Taking her glass and setting it aside, he moved closer again, planting one boot between her feet, his hands grazing her hips through her gown.

  “I will not take a woman without her consent, Miss Bennet. However, I will warn you, as I said, my tastes are not like most. If you wish this to go further, be sure that it may hurt, it may frighten you, and it will take your breath away.”

  He began to draw her dress up her legs with his fingers, gathering the fabric in his hands. The hem of her gown and petticoat rose above her ankles, and then her knees. Soon she felt the cool air against her bare thigh above her stockings.

  Sense and reason were pounding in Elizabeth’s head. She took hold of his hands, making them still, the hem of her clothes in his hands so that his knuckles were pressed against her bare flesh.