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Fitzwilliam propped a piece of wood atop the wall of the garden and hastened to her side. “Should I place the target on the ground instead? I do not believe your father would be very charitable if the wall is damaged.”

She stood on the path of the cottage gardens. She had never been in such dishabille out of doors, but here she was in a gown with no stays or petticoats, just her chemise underneath; her hair was in a long braid over her shoulder, and she wore slippers on her feet.

Fitzwilliam had argued that no one would see them, so he was not dressed properly either.

His shirttails were tucked into his breeches; he was barefoot and wore no waistcoat or topcoat.

His hair was also a sight! Curls stuck up in places and the back of his hair was flat from sleeping on it.

His cheeks also possessed a shadow of a beard since his valet was not with them, and she did not mind the alteration one bit.

He was just as handsome when he was not so meticulously attired.

When he reached her side, he leaned in and gave her a loud kiss on the lips. “What do you think?”

“If you are concerned, we can move the wood; however, I would prefer it on the wall to the ground. I would rather not send dirt flying if I can help it.”

With a step backwards, he lifted his eyebrows. “Well, let us see if what occurred at our wedding made any difference to your power.”

She rubbed her palm with her thumb. Would their marriage have truly led to such consequences? Her hands shook a little as she raised them.

“Bris! ”

A bolt of yellow shot out and hit the log in the centre, shattering it into fragments that sprayed through the air.

She drew her hands back and gaped down at her palms. Magic had never been difficult, but it had never flowed so seamlessly through her.

How had doing nothing more than marrying Fitzwilliam increased her power?

“Elizabeth?”

“I do not understand this.” She pointed to the chopped wood they had found in the garden. “You try. I want to see if yours has altered as well.”

Without argument, he took another of the larger chunks of wood and set it where the last had been. At his return, she shifted so he could stand where she had cast the spell. He set his feet and lifted his arms.

“Bris!”

Once again, yellow light shot forward and splintered the wood into tiny pieces. He clenched his hands into fists, then released them.

“I confess that I have envied the ease you demonstrate with charms and spells. I have always felt the need to force the power through me. My father taught me that way, so I know he had to do the same. But just now, before I could brace for that push, the magic just happened.”

He looked at her. “That is what it feels like for you? You need not push to make the spell happen?”

“I have never required force, but even now, the swiftness in which the power flows through me is easier. I cannot explain it.” She rolled her hand.

“Teine.” A small plume of fire burned brightly over her palm.

Conjuring fire from nothing or altering matter took enough energy that it could be almost depleting.

Most mages would need some time to recuperate, yet she was holding proof of how substantially her power had increased. She could not credit it .

Fitzwilliam rolled his hand and said the incantation. He gasped when a flame appeared in his hand as well. “I cannot explain how this is possible. I can cast a great many spells, but this one was. . .”

“I successfully cast it once, but I found difficulty in summoning the simplest of spells for a day afterwards. Papa can do so, but he also requires time for his magic to replenish. I believe when he taught me, he spent almost a day before he could use his magic again. The charm drains the user of what is within them at that moment. I should not be able to hold the flame this long either.”

They looked back down to their hands, both still holding a golden plume of fire. She gave a flick of her wrist, and the flame extinguished. Fitzwilliam followed suit.

“No one could know what it would mean when we married, but we shall keep this quiet. ’Tis better that the evil coming has no knowledge of our current abilities. If they believe us both to be similar to our fathers, we stand more of a chance of taking them by surprise.”

“I agree.” Why did she always seem to be protecting some secret? Would she never be free to speak as she wished? Before Fitzwilliam, the only time she shared confidences was with Herne. After all, he could not speak. That made him the best guardian of her most closely guarded secrets.

She glanced up at the cloud covered sky.

The sun had hidden itself away, and the weather did not appear favourable for the rest of the day.

What if it snowed? She was not ready to face whoever was coming.

She wanted more time. If only the snow would not come until winter was almost over.

When she was little, snow had fallen on none other than the first day of spring.

She could stand for that to happen again.

Fitzwilliam took her into his arms. “All will be well. You will see. How can this all end any other way? We have seen what is to come—we saw it in the altar. Remember? I have also seen other bits of our future.”

“You have?” How had he known where her mind had wandered?

“I have, but I shall not tell you more since I want those visions to be reality.” He wore a crooked smile before he kissed her forehead.

“Fretting will do us naught. Tomorrow, perhaps the sun will be out and the day will be warmer, and we can practice more. With the concealment charm, our activities will not be visible to anyone who happens by.”

She nodded. He was correct of course, and even though they were spending a good amount of time together alone after their marriage, they could spare some of it to practice.

As far as becoming rattled by what was to come, she had to be prepared to calm herself.

Who knew how much power this person had acquired thus far?

Her father had not heard of any other significant disappearances, but even acquiring certain talents could significantly add to a magical person’s abilities.

“I wish we had no reason to practice or to worry about what is to come. I just want to live in peace.”

He drew her into his arms. “I understand. I would prefer if we had no need of this either. If that was the case, I could take you to Pemberley after the solstice, and we could take long rambling walks up to Nine Ladies and through the forest behind the house. I am not fond of London, yet I have a house there for when going to town is necessary.”

She pressed her cheek to his chest. “I have only ever gone to London to visit my aunt and uncle. I should like to see them if we have reason to go, but my aunt was raised in Lambton. I am certain she would be pleased to come to Derbyshire.”

“They would be welcome at Pemberley. ”

She gave him a warm gaze. “Thank you. Now, I believe Papa sent a stack of books for us to search. They are in the parlour.”

He brushed some curls away from her face that had come loose in the breeze. “I was certain they had not been there before. Since we have had food magicked into the cottage, I suppose he charmed those here too.”

A happy laugh bubbled from her throat. “He loves making things disappear and reappear. Those are his favourite spells. If you watch him during events, small items will vanish when no one is looking. He once moved Sir William’s cravat pin.

Sir William believed it to have fallen out during the assembly only to find it perfectly stuck through one of the draperies. ”

“Sir William had to have known who was responsible when he found it?”

“Oh, he was well aware. He and Papa have been friends for so long, he laughed and clapped my father on the shoulder. Sir William appreciates a good bit of magic.”

“Come. I am certain breakfast has appeared in the kitchen. We can take our food and the books to the breakfast room. Then we shall have more time for other activities later.”

Other activities? What could he mean? She lifted her eyebrow.

He nuzzled his nose near her ear sending a frisson through her. “I want nothing more than to spend all day in bed with you.”

Her cheeks heated as she turned to walk backwards. “I am shocked, Mr. Darcy! Whatever could we do in bed all day?”

When he lunged for her, she squealed and hastened inside.

As he had predicted, a tray with coffee, tea, muffins, and marmalade were in the kitchen.

Another tray with bacon and toast was beside it.

She took the lighter of the trays and started towards the breakfast room.

Fitzwilliam followed with the remaining.

While she prepared the tea and set out their meal, he fetched the books from the parlour .

“I sometimes believe this is a futile endeavour,” said Fitzwilliam as he set down the stack. “Since we have found naught of it, this sort of magic cannot have been seen before.”

“I have to agree with you, but if we overlook any information due to an assumption, then we may bring about our own demise.”

Elizabeth sat, and he took the seat beside her.

She would likely appear like Mary as she studied her book.

Her younger sister always had a book with her at the breakfast table.

The only time she did not was for dinner.

Papa had set that rule a long time ago. Dinner was the one meal where they would behave like a family and talk.

Her husband handed her the book on the top. “I suppose we should begin.”

That evening, Fitzwilliam leaned back against the headboard of the bed, a book on Elizabeth’s back while he read. His wife was on her stomach across his lap while she perused her own book, her elbow on the mattress and her jaw resting in her palm while she read.

She was a distraction to be sure. In naught but her short chemise, her creamy shoulders and the smooth expanse of her legs beckoned. She was a siren—at least to him she was—and he was lost. They had already loved each other, but he did not want to read the book in his lap. He wanted her again!

After all, they had found naught to be of aid thus far.

How many books had they read in the past few weeks?

He could not say the endeavour was completely fruitless.

He had learnt a few facts he had been unaware of before, but most of the words passed right through his mind and were not retained.

Elizabeth surely had the same experience.

Why should they not abandon this pursuit?

After all, this mouse hunt was getting them nowhere .

Elizabeth gave a sharp inhale and lifted her upper body. He was forced to grab his book to keep it from falling off. “I have found something.”

“You have?” Finally! But was whatever she had discovered worth the days and hours spent toiling over page after page of all these books?

“’Tis not much. It is actually more of a warning. ‘Beware to the magician who seeks more magic than the earth is willing to provide. A high price is to be paid by those who covet the power of others. ’”

He scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Yet the person in the vision seemed strong. What price could they face? They have already taken the power of the duke and whatever person they robbed previously—the one His Grace mentioned in his letter.”

“Yes, but neither of us could see this man. We only have a perception from what we assume was the spell cast in my direction. I admit that this warning is vague, but if we can determine what this price is, then we may stand a better chance of defeating him.”

“There is always the letter your father sent to my uncle. If anyone would know, it would be him.” He took the book from her and set it on the side table. “We have a couple of weeks, at least, until we must face this person. I would much prefer to concentrate on you rather than these books.”

She laughed and picked up the volume he had been failing to read. “And how much have you read on your own? I would wager by the way your fingers were tickling the backs of my thighs, little indeed.”

He feigned a gasp and tugged her to him. “I cannot help it if you have consumed my mind. I also cannot read what is on the page because I cannot stop staring at you.”

Her palm pressed against his chest. “I am a mess. You behave as though I am dressed for a ball. ”

He tipped her chin up so their gazes met. “You need not be attired for an event to capture me. I find you much more alluring as you are. Your chemise does little to hide what is beneath, and as we were, your legs and rear begged to be stroked.”

“My rear? You must be joking.”

While he ran his fingers up the softness of her thigh, his breathing deepened at the knowledge of what he would soon touch.

“I would never joke about such matters.” He drew the garment over her head, and his hand covered her breast, his thumb teasing the peak.

“As much as I am tempted by you clothed, you bewitch me in this state. You are so beautiful.” Most of Meryton thought Miss Bennet the beauty of the Bennet girls, but he only saw Elizabeth.

She had been all he had seen since that first night in Oakham Forest. Her vivid eyes drew him into her soul.

He would never have admitted it then, but he had been lost in an instant. As it was, he would never be recovered.

Elizabeth cradled his cheek in her palm. “You are blind, sir.”

He shook his head. “No, I see all of you, Elizabeth. I am certain I have noticed more than anyone, which is why I know your worth and your beauty. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. If you could, you would never doubt yourself again.”