Fitzwilliam Darcy, Rock Star by Heather Lynn Rigaud

dressed, groomed, and wired for sound.
    At seven, the girls participated in their first meet-and-greet with Slurry. About fifty people from the area, winners of tickets from the local radio stations, were brought backstage to meet the bands. Although Elizabeth was a little nervous about the experience, her natural charm got her through it. The fact of the matter was that while everyone was polite to LBS, they were really there to see Slurry.
    Elizabeth expected Darcy to be rude and glare at everyone, but to her surprise he was completely unlike the arrogant, brooding grouch she had seen at the studio. This was the Darcy she remembered from the grocery store. He was completely approachable. He shook hands, signed autographs, and even posed for pictures. She was surprised by this change in his demeanor but suspected it was simply a role he performed as part of the job.
    While their fans distracted them, Elizabeth had a chance to observe Slurry. Darcy was dressed in his concert attire: black leather pants and black sunglasses. His long torso, broad shoulders, and long arms were completely bare. From her close position, she could see clearly the tattoo on his chest. It was a lyre, strangely enough: an instrument that would be more at home in the hands of an ancient Greek than a rock god. It was finely done; Elizabeth could even see the individual strings on the skin just to the left of his heart. He had another tattoo of a black spiral over his right shoulder and going down his arm.
    Richard was simply dressed in a pair of jeans and boots. With his broad chest and powerfully built arms, he didn’t need a shirt. Elizabeth could not count all his tattoos in one sitting without being obvious. She started with his back, where a large Celtic knot was centered over his spine and spread out to his shoulder blades, the top just brushed by the tips of his long curls. For a full minute Elizabeth entertained herself by watching the tattoo move as Richard’s muscles flexed. Just above the waistband of his jeans, at the base of his spine, was a small blue-black scarab. The Fitzwilliam family crest in all its glorious color adorned his right upper arm, and a blue sun sat on his right forearm.
    Charles wore tight jeans and a royal blue T-shirt. The shirt matched the color of his eyes. His blond curls flowed over his collar and rested on his shoulders.
    Once the meet-and-greet was over, the girls had thirty minutes before they were to begin the show. Elizabeth thought she would burst from the excitement and nervousness burning inside her, but she kept control of her passions. She was away from the others, tuning her Taylor one last time and mentally rehearsing her song, when she realized with a start that Darcy was standing in front of her.
    “Can I give you a word of advice?” he said softly.
    Elizabeth nodded, her neck stretched up to look at him.
    “When you get out there, don’t look at the crowd at first. It’s too much. Get on your mark and as soon as the others are on theirs, just start playing . Don’t look around, don’t think, just play.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Your music is programmed inside of you. Trust it. You know what to do; play, and it will be all right.”
    Elizabeth nodded, not quite sure what to say. She was disturbed by the intimacy of his voice and the intensity of his gaze. “Thank you. I’ll try to remember that.”
    “Good luck,” he said quietly and stepped away.
    Charles called her over, “It’s time, ladies.” He smiled brightly. “You all look great! If you are ready, I’ll walk you out.”
    Charlotte frowned. “But Alex always walks us out.”
    Alex’s voice came over their earplugs. “Char, I’m right here.” They looked up to see him wave from the control station. “I’m going to be watching you on the monitors with Caro.” Caroline waved distractedly. “Let Charles walk you out tonight, okay?”
    “But what about our kiss?” Elizabeth asked in a tone of amusement mixed