Compulsively Mr. Darcy (4 page)

A man could die of boredom trying to relax, Darcy decided.

He had no more work. Earlier, he had checked in with Richard and Anne, his cousins and vice presidents at the company's headquarters in New York. He called Georgiana, who was currently in England at their family's old estate in Derbyshire. He even made a few calls about some failing companies he had heard about, to see if they would be worthwhile to acquire. The calls took all of forty minutes.

Perhaps he'd go for another run on the beach if it wasn't too crowded. He carried his teacup to the window. Not too crowded, but certainly more people than earlier. His eyes swept over the figures on the beach.

At the edge of the water, a woman in a white skirt performed a pirouette. She kicked the water and lifted her face to the sun.

He started. Her movement resembled the wood nymph's at the orphanage. Perhaps she had turned into a water sprite today. His lips twitched at the fanciful thoughts.

He went to get his binoculars, a useful aid to detect Bingley's sisters at a distance and avoid wherever they were. The sprite had disappeared by the time he returned. Disappointed, he almost turned away from the window but decided on a quick scan. He sighed with relief when he spotted her sitting against a palm tree, her white skirt now draping on the sand.

A small child approached. She held something in one hand to the child. Darcy raised his binoculars. As the lenses focused, a beautiful, smiling profile filled his view: warm chocolate–colored hair loosely tied in a ribbon at the neck; blowing winds had teased some strands loose to flitter and flirt against a smooth cheek tinged with pink blush. Even at this distance, he could almost see the tilt at the corner of one eye as she laughed with the child.

Her infectious joy traveled across the distance and shared some of its bounty with him. He breathed in deeply, taking in the gift. Involuntarily, his face stretched into a responding smile.

He kept the lens steady and focused on her. “Come on, turn this way.”

Alas, she turned toward the ocean instead. The child walked away, having gotten something from the sprite. Darcy continued to watch for a few minutes. She seemed content to sit there, enjoying the ocean breeze.

Before he changed his mind, he left his room.

***

She had played on the beach too long, Elizabeth realized when she noted the time. She was late meeting Jane and Chau at Merry Bar. She grimaced at the sand clinging to the hem of her now dampened white skirt. Good thing she'd already met with the resort manager before she frolicked in the waves.

When she neared the steps to the side entrance of the resort, voices behind tall hedges reached her.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” a man's voice sang out.

“Nowhere,” a deep male voice answered.

“Then why the hurrying to nowhere?” Laughter could be heard in the first voice.

“Just going to take a look at the beach.”

Elizabeth paused in her step at hearing the second speaker again. Deep voice, a somewhat familiar British accent: she wrinkled her brow, trying to place it.

“No headache today?”

“I don't get headaches,” the irritated second voice spoke.

“Yes, you do. And they've been getting worse and worse,” the first voice insisted.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Fine, don't talk to me. At least talk to a doctor or somebody. Nobody here knows who you are or what you do. Once we get back, you'll be busy looking for another company to work with and you won't take care of it. You have time here.”

“I don't like doctors.”

About to move to pass the two men, Elizabeth stopped midstep. The irritated voice was definitely recognizable now: Mr. Darcy. Apparently, a week or so of rest and relaxation hadn't improved Mr. Darcy's mood or manner; Elizabeth was amused. Not up to dealing with an awkward scene, she quietly turned and took a different path to find another entrance to the resort.

Entering Merry Bar, she spotted Chau at the bar. As she made her way toward her friend, she passed a large group of women in elegant dresses and beautifully made-up faces. The women were subtle about it, but the full force of their scrutinizing once-over made Elizabeth feel graceless and gauche in her rumpled clothes and no makeup on her face.

“Your sister was wondering if she should go and search for you.” Chau came from behind the counter. “She thought you were probably playing in the waves and forgot the time.”

“I was,” Elizabeth admitted, smiling. “I was pretending I was a water sprite.”

“My father needs my help at the moment. I'm sorry I can't visit.”

“That's okay. I'm sorry I'm late.”

“Jane's out in the patio area somewhere. She ran into some people she recognized who invited her to join them for a drink out there a few minutes ago. Come, meet my family first.” Chau pulled her toward a group of men behind the bar and introduced them.

Upon hearing that Elizabeth was Mai Gardiner's niece by marriage, and that she would be working at the resort, Mr. Luc immediately assured her he and his sons would watch over her carefully.

“Sorry about that,” Chau whispered when she and Elizabeth left the Luc men and headed to the patio. “My dad's protective of you because he knows your aunt Mai.”

“I'm touched. Believe me, I'm used to my aunt Mai's relatives back home acting the same way,” Elizabeth said.

Chau led her to Jane. Elizabeth's eyes widened when she recognized Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy with her sister, along with two other women.

“You found me.” Jane smiled and introduced Elizabeth and Chau to the others before Chau left them.

Mr. Bingley smiled at Elizabeth. “So glad to meet you, Elizabeth. Jane told us your family's from Berkeley.”

“Yes, born, raised, and educated.” From his greeting, she realized he didn't recognize her. Mr. Darcy's penetrating eyes disconcerted her. Glad a table separated them and she didn't have to shake his hand, she turned back to Mr. Bingley. “How do you like Da Nang?”

Mr. Bingley said, “Such a great place. People are so friendly. I love the comfortable clothes they wear. My friend Oanh is going to get me some Vietnamese outfits.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth noted Mr. Darcy's eyes still focused on her. When she turned to face him directly, he glanced away for a second, then back at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

Miss Bingley said, “If you're going to look stupid, Charles, at least make sure the clothes are new. You don't know what kind of hygienic habits these people have.”

Mr. Bingley looked embarrassed. “Caroline, people in Asia took daily baths long before it caught on in Europe.”

Miss Bingley's lips curled. “I saw a travel show on TV where they showed these people drinking the same water they bathed in.”

Mrs. Hurst added, “We brought our own drinking water.”

“We are very careful, aren't we, William?” Miss Bingley turned to Mr. Darcy. “If you're out of yours, I can share mine with you.”

Feeling like she was in junior high again, Elizabeth turned to observe his reaction to Miss Bingley's simpering offer. His expression inscrutable, he simply took a sip of his drink and didn't respond.

Jane said, “It's good to be careful if you're not used to conditions here.”

“I have no intentions of getting used to conditions here. You're probably used to such conditions. Where did you say you're from? Berkeley, California?” Miss Bingley threw a pointed glance at Elizabeth's hair. “Isn't that where you'd find a lot of long-haired, dirty hippies?”

Catching the pleading message in her sister's eyes, Elizabeth swallowed the retort on her lips. She kept her tone light. “Just like Vietnam, Berkeley is not everyone's cup of tea.”

Only a sniff and a slight upturn of the nose from Miss Bingley answered Elizabeth's attempt at politeness. Irritated now, she stared at Miss Bingley while she slowly raised her hand and scratched her head, then, after a few seconds, her sides. While she followed Mr. Bingley's telling of his adventure in the market with an unwashed fruit, she kept scratching, alternating between her hair and her sides.

No reaction from Miss Bingley, but Mr. Darcy slid his chair back.

Encouraged at unsettling him, Elizabeth began to scratch more vigorously until a kick under the table from Jane stopped her antics.

Mr. Darcy said to Elizabeth, “Were you out on the beach earlier?”

Surprised at the unexpected question, Elizabeth blushed and wondered if he'd seen her childish romping. “Yes.”

A pointed glance at Elizabeth's skirt came from Miss Bingley. “I don't like the beach. All that sand getting into your hair and clothes, making you look stupid.”

Elizabeth bit her cheeks and suppressed the urge to flick her skirt and fling a few grains in the woman's face.

“Sometimes, one can discover an unexpected, beautiful treasure on the beach,” Mr. Darcy said. Holding Elizabeth's gaze, he took a small sip of his drink.

Flustered at the intense blueness of his eyes, she looked down at a plate of fruit on the table.

Miss Bingley said, “How do you know that girl Chau?”

“We work together,” Elizabeth answered.

Miss Bingley turned and shared an amused glance with her sister.

With a barely concealed snicker, Mrs. Hurst said, “The tips and compensations must be quite attractive working here.”

“I do get compensated obscenely well for asking people to undress”—Elizabeth's temper snapped at the sisters' bitchy attitude—“and get them to tell me secrets they wouldn't dream of revealing to their nearest and dearest—”

She was interrupted mid-sentence by Mr. Darcy's standing up. He mumbled he was expecting a phone call and abruptly left.

Elizabeth turned back to the sisters and continued, “Would you two like to make an appointment? I'd be happy to dust up what little psychiatry I know.”

“You're Dr. Bennet.” Mr. Bingley's eyes widened and he slapped his forehead. “Of course, the same last name. I've been trying to figure out why your voice sounds familiar. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you.”

“No problem,” Elizabeth said, embarrassed she'd lost her temper with his sisters. “I was masked and covered in surgical scrubs.”

Jane explained to the Bingley sisters. “Elizabeth works with Dr. Chau Luc at the hospital. Though, for the next couple of weeks, my sister's going to be the in-house doctor here at the resort.”

Miss Bingley studied her nails.

In a bored voice, and while looking around the patio area, Mrs. Hurst said, “Interesting.”

A moment of uncomfortable silence reigned before a red-faced Mr. Bingley started a conversation with Jane about the famous snorkeling excursions at the resort.

Miss Bingley interrupted and told her brother to ask Mr. Darcy to arrange a shopping trip for them to Hong Kong while they wait for the adoption to be finalized. She turned to her sister. “Louisa, what time is my massage appointment?”

With that hint, Elizabeth and Jane said good-bye and left them.

***

Jane and Elizabeth were almost out of the resort when Mr. Bingley caught up with them. With an awkward smile, he apologized for his sisters' behavior. He gave some convoluted explanation for their rudeness, ending with, “Caroline gets possessive with Darcy when there are other women about, especially beautiful ones. She can't accept he'd never be interested in her.”

Elizabeth smiled at him. She couldn't blame him for having bitchy sisters. “Please don't worry about it.”

Mr. Bingley said, “I'm sorry Darcy left without saying good-bye. It must have been a very important call that he just then remembered. He's in between companies and he's anxious to hear about some new one.”

Jane said, “I hope he gets good news with the phone call.”

Mr. Bingley turned to her. “He can't relax unless he's working. He feels useless otherwise.”

Jane nodded. “Many people feel like that.”

“I had to drag him here to Vietnam, to give him a chance to regroup and relax without worrying about work and finances and all that. I told him we need him to make sure everything is fine with the adoption. He's very responsible, you see…” He trailed off and looked self-conscious, as if he had said more than he had intended.

Elizabeth bit her lip. Poor Mr. Darcy! Unemployed and stressed about it. And he and Mr. Bingley wanted to become parents soon too. Jane did say Mr. Darcy seemed to be the responsible one at the interview. For a proud man like him, it must be quite humiliating to act as a personal assistant for the Bingley family, making travel arrangements for shopping trips and so forth. “Please tell Mr. Darcy I'm very sorry for my unprofessional conduct that day at the hospital.”

“Don't worry about Darcy,” Mr. Bingley said. “I know he feels badly about his behavior. He usually has better manners, but it was a rough day for him, especially with my antics.”

“Still, I didn't act as a doctor should,” Elizabeth admitted.

“He gets these terrible headaches, and I keep telling him he needs to see a doctor, but he won't. He's been under a lot of stress and, well, he doesn't do well with doctors and hospitals. Nothing personal.”

“None taken,” Elizabeth assured him.

“Stop hiding in your room,” Bingley said to Darcy. “You're coming to the club tonight. Don't shake your head at me. When was the last time you've stepped out of your room?”

Darcy said, “I'm not hiding. I don't feel like socializing lately.”

“Fine, you're not hiding, you're hibernating. And when have you ever felt like socializing?” Bingley held up his hand when Darcy opened his mouth. “Not another word. My family is in Hong Kong shopping. You're safe to leave your room. Jane Bennet and her sister are at Merry Bar—”

“I'm not interested in talking with some girl working as an escort.”

“An escort?” Bingley's eyes widened. “
That's
why you left abruptly yesterday. I had to make excuses for your rudeness.”

Darcy moved away. “I was expecting an important phone call.”

“You're such an idiot.” Bingley followed. “If you'd stayed to hear the rest of what Elizabeth had said, you'd have known she's a doctor.”

Darcy felt like smiling. He turned away to hide his relief from Bingley. His wood nymph, his fantasy water sprite, was not an escort.

“She was the American doctor who treated me in the hospital, you prick! The one you acted the bloody arse with.”

Damn. Damn. Damn. Of course, the green eyes.
“I only got a brief glimpse of her eyes through her protective eyewear. How could I have recognized her? We weren't properly introduced at the time.”

“Of course you weren't properly introduced. You barged in, insulted her, threw your CEO weight around, disrupted her work on her patient in the next bed, and you only got a glimpse of her eyes because you fainted.” As the last words left Bingley's lips, his irritation disappeared and he laughed.

Darcy's lips twitched. Though he felt foolish, even he had to admit it was funny. He coughed and kept his voice casual. “You mentioned Miss Bennet and uh… her sister are in the club?”

“I ran into Jane in the lobby and she mentioned she was going to be in Merry Bar with her sister. There's dancing tonight.” Bingley propelled Darcy toward the door. “You don't have to dance, just stand there and hold up a pillar or two, but I want you out of this room.”

***

Darcy scanned the crowded nightclub for a pair of green eyes.

Bingley elbowed him. “Doesn't this remind you of the good old days when you and I were regulars at all the happening clubs around the world? Remember when the tabloids caught you fondling that Victoria's Secret lingerie model dressed like an angel? How time flies. You've gotten old and staid in just ten years. Now, you're hiding in your room for days, avoiding all us earthlings, and I had to forcibly drag you out for some nightlife…”

Darcy spotted her. She was standing next to her sister at the north end of the room.

“…wings.” Bingley jabbed him again. “Are you listening to me?”

Darcy nodded. “She's entrancing.”

“What? Who's entrancing?”

Some girl grabbed Bingley and pulled him on to the dance floor. Another tried to grab Darcy but he declined and walked away. He stayed at a distance, far enough out of the dangerous dancing zone but close enough to keep his gaze on his enchantress.

His eyes swept over the soft curves of
her
. He allowed his imagination to wander.

Holding on to her hips, he swayed in rhythm to her body dancing. His lips tasted the softness of that tantalizing spot behind her ear. Pressing his face against her hair, he breathed in her scent. His hardness pushed against her…

“There you are. I'm surprised you're still here,” Bingley rudely interrupted in the middle of Darcy's fantasy. “Jane and Elizabeth are over there. I want to go say hi and see if one of them wants to dance. Join me? You can try to redeem your previous bad manners.”

Trying to appear uninterested, Darcy shrugged and stepped away from the pillar. Moments later, standing in front of his wood nymph, he could not find his tongue. Instead, while she chatted with her sister and his friend, he stared at her.

Framed by dark wavy hair, the long strands barely contained by the tie at the back, her perfect, oval-shaped face showed smooth, flawless skin, a straight impertinent nose, and a heart-shaped pair of pink, tantalizingly full lips.

Bingley asked Jane to dance and they went off.

An amused gleam in her eyes, Elizabeth seemed to be waiting for Darcy to say something.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask her to dance, then remembered his fantasy earlier. Afraid that he would forget himself and fondle her as he did in his fantasy, he closed his mouth without speaking.

She turned toward the dance floor and moved her body to the music.

He stole a glance at her swaying backside and felt himself hardening again at the thought of how that softness would feel against him. Embarrassed, he angled his body to face away from her.

“Come, Mr. Darcy. We must pretend to have some sort of conversation.” She smiled when he turned back to her. “I shall start. People seem to enjoy dancing to the music. Now it's your turn to say something equally inane.”

“I don't have anything inane to say.” Immediately, he winced at how lame that had sounded.

“You did just fine right there,” she encouraged him. “Keep going. Say something else obvious, like how crowded it is tonight.”

His lips quivered.

“Miracle. Is that almost a smile on your face, Mr. Darcy?” She clapped. “It is.”

At the gleeful grin on her face, he smiled.

“Be still my heart. Mr. Darcy has dimples when he smiles.” Her tone turned mock serious. “Okay, I had promised myself I wouldn't tease you. Now, help me behave. We'll both stand here and be ourselves: unsocial, uncommunicative, and unconnected. You take that side of the pillar and I'll take this side.”

Bingley and her sister returned. Jane wanted to leave, as she had an early morning appointment. Elizabeth nodded.

The intoxicating fragrance of gardenia wafted past Darcy as a pair of green eyes leaned close to deliver a parting shot. “I'm going home to practice on oratorical skills. You do the same. When we meet next, we'll exchange some more witty repartee, okay?”

With that, she grabbed her sister's arm and they moved through the throng of dancers. His eyes tracked her full, undulating hips walking away from him, his senses stirred and shaken. Elizabeth Bennet definitely intrigued him. It had been a long time, if ever, since he had felt this bewitched by a woman.

He scowled. Temporary pure lust, that was all. He'd get over it soon, like tomorrow.

***

Darcy stood in front of a door with his right hand raised to knock. He managed to stop his knuckles from touching the wood by a mere inch before he brought his fist to his mouth instead. Stepping back, he pivoted and determinedly walked away.

Bingley had been nagging at him to get himself treated for the occasional pain in his head. He did not suffer from headaches. He did not want to be told he was depressed. He did not need medicines—mood-altering medicines. He would not relinquish control of himself no matter how much his head hurt at times.

He made it past the corner before his feet dragged to a stop. He sank against a wall, defeated.

Who was he fooling? This wasn't about his headaches. He wanted to see her. His wood nymph. His water sprite. His infatuation.

Since she had gotten him to smile at the club that night, he could not get that teasing voice, those swaying hips, that seductive gardenia scent out of his mind.

***

Elizabeth heard the knock the moment she realized her next patient was quite late. She glanced at the initials on the appointment schedule the concierge had given her earlier:
F.D.
To her surprise, Mr. Darcy stood on the other side of the door.

“Hello.” She wondered what he wanted. He couldn't be her patient. His first name was William. Looking up at his handsome face, she mourned womankind's loss that he batted for the other team. “May I help you?”

“Uh… Hello. How are you? Is your sister well?”

“I'm fine and Jane's fine. She's at the orphanage right now. You could call her there. I'm expecting a patient any minute now.” She wondered if F.D. had gotten lost. She peered down the empty hallway.

“Uh… I'm here to see you.”

Poor guy. He must be anxious about the adoption. She decided she could spare him a few minutes. “Come in. Let me call the front desk and make sure my patient didn't cancel or lose his or her way.”

“I'm your patient.”

“Oh. I see.” She took a deep breath, inhaling a whiff of his scent—woods and something else she couldn't place. She shook her head to compose herself and put on her doctor hat. “How may I help you, Mr. Darcy?”

“Bingley wants me to see a doctor.”

He looked so miserable at the idea she felt for him. Trying to appear nonthreatening, she pointed him to a chair and sat. “What worries him in particular about your health?”

“He thinks I get headaches.”

At the tone of denial in his voice, she bit her lip to stop herself from smiling. “Do you have any symptoms that gave your partner such an idea?”

He looked mildly perplexed for a brief second. “No. I do not.”

She waited for him to expand his answer.

Blue eyes gazed calmly back at her.

She offered, “People with headaches experience a sensation of tightness around or in their head. Sometimes a pounding, thumping, on one side of the head, or on both sides. Or the pain can be in the forehead, around the eyes, or the back of the head. Any of this sounds familiar?”

“No.”

“I want to make sure, if you are having these headaches, that they're not something new and not increasing in intensity or frequency, and they're not worse first thing in the morning and get better during the day. You're not vomiting, especially in the mornings? You're not experiencing any muscle weakness, numbness?”

“No.”

She wondered if the man knew another word. “Have you any behavioral changes recently that perhaps may be of concern to you or to your family and friends?”

“No.” His jaws clenched visibly and she realized she had struck a nerve.

She kept her tone mild. “I'm trying to ascertain your symptoms, Mr. Darcy, to make a diagnosis. Your partner obviously noticed something to be worried. You're here because of his concern. To set his mind and yours at ease, I need to ask these questions.”

The blue in his eyes became icy. “There's nothing wrong with me.”

Then
why
the
hell
are
you
here, wasting my time?
She swallowed the retort and decided on the scare tactics. “If you're not concerned about your headaches, I won't be either. But as a physician, whenever I hear the term headaches, I worry about the possibility of a brain tumor.”

A twinge of guilt hit her when his eyes widened. A hiss of a quick breath escaped from him. After a minute, though, he was back to staring impassively at her.

He was certainly a tough one. She sighed. “Look, Mr. Darcy, I know you really don't want to be here. You're not answering my questions or cooperating, which makes it very hard for me to prove there's nothing wrong with you. I want a chance to say, ‘You are right, sir. You have no defects!'”

His eyes gave a faint imitation of a blink.

She grinned at him. “You're going to have to pay me for my time anyway, you might as well make me work for it. Besides, I thought I told you to practice your oratorical skills. A string of no's does not count as exchanging witty repartee.”

His expression softened. With a reluctant twitch to his lips, he responded to the overture. “All right, Dr. Bennet. I know you have to do your job. I'll try to cooperate as much as possible.”

After this, he was less challenging, though no less of a challenge and only minimally more cooperative. Nevertheless, he answered enough of her questions that she was reassured he did not have a brain tumor, which was her main concern.

When she explained to him that she needed to examine him next, he stiffened and looked as if she'd suggested a root canal on the spot.

“You don't need to undress. I only need your shoes and socks off for me to do a brief exam.” To ease his discomfort, she teased, “I don't have a scalpel here. You'll just have to suffer a few pinpricks to see if your senses are alive and intact. I promise not to draw”—she paused, leaned forward, and spelled—“B-L-O-O-D.”

Humor seemed to work with him; for the second time, he fully smiled at her, revealing dimples again. Her mouth parched. She sucked her tongue and wetted her lips.
He
really
is
a
handsome
devil. What a waste to
… She had to stop thinking like that.
Life
is
not
fair
, she silently lamented instead.

She quickly but thoroughly performed the neurological exam. Though obviously uncomfortable with it, he cooperated. They were both glad when the physical exam was over.

When told everything seemed normal, he gave her a wry smile. “I did tell Bingley I don't get headaches.”

“No, you only give them, I'm sure,” she shot back and felt gratified at his chuckling.

He bent to pick up his shoes. She had to look away to even out her breathing. To distract herself, she reached down to gather up her tools from a low stool. When she straightened, he was standing motionless, staring at her with one shoe in his hand. Wondering at the intense expression in his eyes, she cleared her throat and told him she was ready to give him her professional opinion.

He shook his head slightly as if to bring his mind back from wherever it had gone.

“It's my opinion you suffer from recurrent migraines, likely precipitated by stress.” She discussed the list of possible medicines she could prescribe for him.