Page 33 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 33

E lizabeth had slept fitfully between the demands of her growing body and the occasional twig poking through the blanket, despite Darcy’s best efforts to make a soft area of dried leaves for them behind a boulder that would hide them from any passersby. But she had been curled up in his arms all night, and that more than made up for it.

Darcy kissed her lingeringly, sending a rush of heat through her. “Rest here while I fetch some water,” he said.

“Thank you.” She would be happy to rest for hours, if only she could. To think they might be back at Pemberley in just a day or two, in their own bed! Where she could stay in that bed all day and night if she wished. It sounded like heaven. They had left the road earlier than planned the previous day, after their encounter with the soldiers, and the terrain had been rough and challenging. Her legs ached from carrying the extra weight of her heavy belly as she clambered up the steep slope, but it was worth it to get away from the soldiers.

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, watching Darcy pick up his coat with his left hand. He sighed and set it down again. His new limitations must frustrate him every day.

Pushing the cover aside, she rose from their makeshift bed and took the coat. Bending down was getting harder every day. “Pray permit me to assist you. ”

He grimaced, but allowed her to slide it over his weak arm. No wonder he was wearing looser clothes now; he could never have managed it with one of his usual tight coats. That must be why he had slept in his boots, too, to avoid having to ask her to help him with them.

What a blow this must be to him!

She could think of no words to make it better, but he was still her beloved William, so she caught his face between her hands and kissed him with every ounce of persuasive passion she had, tantalizing him to deepen the kiss until they were both breathing heavily.

Finally, when she broke away, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Oh, my dearest Elizabeth. When we are back at Pemberley, I am not letting you out of bed for a week.”

She laughed because it was so close to her earlier thoughts – and so completely different. And even more appealing. “I will hold you to that.”

“But first, water, so that we can actually make it home.”

“I am completely in favor of that.” She rubbed her aching back.

He sauntered out of their little hiding place, his mood clearly improved.

She turned back with a smile, her insides still warm from that kiss. No point in trying to rest now. Instead she shook out the blankets and rolled them up, tying them tightly with the leather straps. Her dress was hopelessly wrinkled, but she straightened it as well as she could before forcing her half-boots onto her swollen feet.

Perhaps they could cover some ground before breaking their fast on the nuts and dried fruits in the haversack. That way they could —

“ Arrêtez! ” The man’s deep, angry voice sounded a short distance away. “Keep your hands where we can see them.”

Elizabeth froze.

“What seems to be the problem, my good man?” It was Darcy, sounding completely calm.

“You are under arrest, you filthy traitor, and now you are going to lead us to the dragons.”

“Dragons? How would I know where to find them? ”

“Stop wasting our time with lies. The landed Talent in the village felt your power as you passed.”

“This is nonsense. I have no magic, and I already told you I am looking for a witch woman.”

And then Darcy’s voice sounded in her head, so sweetly familiar and yet full of pain. Stay hidden. I will lead them away. You must warn the Nest – and protect our child.

But –

Do not send! They may be tracking your Talent. Go home, I beg you. I will follow if I can.

If he could. Her heart plummeted. He was only a few feet away from her, but it might as well have been a thousand miles.

She would never see him again.

Every inch of her cried out to run to him, to somehow save him, or just to embrace him one last time. But it would be a heedless waste. It would only lead to her imprisonment, too, if not worse, and a loss of their child’s future.

“Bind his hands. Tightly.”

Darcy’s voice. “My right arm is useless.”

A snort. “A trick, no doubt. Tie them both.”

Darcy grunted in pain. Elizabeth fell to her knees, her hands clenched, biting her lip until she tasted blood.

“This is all a mistake. I can tell you nothing about dragons.”

“We shall see about that. Corporal, what does the lodestone show?”

“Just a tiny wobble.”

“It is him, then. Now, mon ami , do you wish to show us where the dragons are, or must we persuade you further?” The sound of a fist striking flesh.

Elizabeth rocked back and forth, tears burning her cheeks.

“This way,” Darcy gasped.

“Ah, that is more like it!” He sounded triumphant and Elizabeth wanted to kill him .

But she had a baby to protect and dragons to warn, or this Nest would soon meet the fate of the Austrian one, scorched and empty.

Oh, it was like a knife turning in her gut, to let it happen! She could not help him. Darcy’s Talent was so much stronger than hers; if he thought magery would make a difference, he would have already used it.

Or not. He could have made himself invisible, but he had not. He could not, if he wanted to keep the Frenchmen from finding her. He was deliberately sacrificing himself for her, for the child, for the dragons.

And she could do nothing but accept his sacrifice.

Tramping footsteps and the sound of breaking twigs, and then French voices fading away. Darcy must be leading them off. She strained her ears for their direction. Eastward, perhaps. The trail to the Nest lay just to the northwest.

He was giving her the best chance he could.

This was her fault. If she had never left England, Darcy would be safe at Mme. Hartung’s house, not being dragged off by French soldiers.

Perhaps the Nest could help him, if she could reach it quickly enough. As the noise faded away, she began to gather what little she could carry. No point taking anything that would slow her down. The food, yes, and the tin cup for water. She took the compass in Darcy’s haversack and consulted it. Towards the tall, pointy peak first.

She cast a longing look at the blankets she had shared with him, likely for the last time. There was no time for sentimentality, though. She could not afford to think of what might be happening to him at this very minute.

She peeked out of their hiding place behind the boulder. No sign of anyone, but she tiptoed anyway, lest her movements be overheard. When she was farther away, she would move faster. As fast as she could.

It was a painfully slow journey. The deer path she had taken veered off in the wrong direction, leaving her to force her way through rough underbrush to maintain the correct direction. Thorny branches scraped her hands and cheeks. She nearly sobbed with relief when she came across a dry streambed she could follow.

The sun was high in the sky. She ought to stop and eat, but it would slow her down, and her stomach cramped painfully at the very idea of food. She pushed on, wiping the perspiration from her brow.

On and on, higher and higher. At least there was no sign of the French soldiers.

Nothing mattered except getting to the Nest as quickly as possible. Not the ache in her back, not her sore feet, not the bleeding scratches, not even the worry for Darcy that sent stabs of pain through her stomach. It was nothing to what he must be suffering.

One foot after another. Check the compass. Back into the woods. Finally her breath was coming so fast she had to rest, leaning back against a rough tree trunk. Breathe in and out, and no thinking.

Another cramp assailed her, stronger than the others. She pressed her hands against her swollen abdomen as if that could stop it. Her suddenly very hard abdomen.

Horror filled her. No. It could not be. It was too early. Mrs. Sanford had said it would be another two months at the least. A child born this early would not survive.

But as the pain passed, the tightness under her skin relaxed a little. There was no mistaking it; her womb was causing the cramps.

And she was alone in the wilderness, many hours’ walk from the nearest road that might lead to help. Far from the land she needed for her Talent, to give herself strength. As a last resort, she could send to Cerridwen, but that risked making things worse if the soldiers’ lodestone found her dragon.

And Darcy was lost to her.

A brief sob escaped her. This was a nightmare.

There was no one to help her. If her baby was to have any chance to survive, she had to find safety. She could not lose them both, not Darcy and their child, too .

The Nest. She had to reach the Nest. Someone there would know what to do. And she might not have much time.

She straightened and set forth again, as quickly as her swollen, weary body could go. Her heart ached, even as she dreaded the next pain.

Finally, an eternity later, or perhaps only a few hours, sudden power surged into her from the land beneath her feet. It stopped her, holding her briefly in place as it tested her, and then let her stumble through unharmed.

It must be a ward. She had crossed a line of wards, like the one Rowan had built at Pemberley.

She had made it. She had reached the territory protected by the Nest.

Falling to her knees, she sought out her bond to Cerridwen, the one she had struggled so hard to silence since reaching France. But there it was, strong and pulsing, always there for her. Cerridwen, I need help .

As the two French Kith who had come to Elizabeth’s aid helped her through the illusions and into the Nest, the familiar smell of cinnamon and hot metal brought fresh tears to her eyes. Safety, at least of a sort, but only for her. Not for her beloved husband.

Cerridwen transformed beside her, the first time she had seen her in dragon form since coming to France, her aura full of concern and desire to comfort. But even that could not help.

A mid-sized dragon awaited them in the vast chamber, “Welcome, Companion Elizabeth. We have been expecting you. But where is your mate?”

“Lost,” she said with a catch in her voice. “Taken by soldiers, who are hunting for this Nest. Oh, there is so much I must tell you, to warn you, but my baby is coming and I must go through the Gate as swiftly as possible.”

The dragon exchanged a glance with Cerridwen, the tingle of rapid sendings filling the air. “Will you tell me quickly? ”

Another pain lanced through her, making her clutch her stomach. “There is…so much,” she gasped. “Pray, could you not read me instead?”

The Kith woman put an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “She is in no condition to explain, not while she is in childbirth. The need for haste is great.”

The dragon extended his forelegs. Elizabeth grasped them, turning her gaze up into his huge gold ringed eyes. She could not organize her thoughts, only put the memory of the day before him, all the agony and the fear, and everything she knew about Napoleon’s dragon lodestone.

His presence in her mind was delicate, but his shock was palpable, as was his horror. He withdrew and said, “I must take this to the Eldest instantly.”

“I beg you, may I go through the Gate first? There is no time to lose.”

“Someone is coming to help you through it. We are in your debt, Companion Elizabeth, for your warning.”

But none of that would stop her child from being born too soon.