Chapter 11 #2
“A month, perhaps two.” She looked down at Jenny. “Our young need much less care than yours do, but I still want them to be free. Why is it that you do not put her down, now that she is sleeping? I can sense that your arms are growing tired of being in that position.”
It was not something he had ever thought to have to explain to anyone, much less a dragon ten times his size. “It feels good to hold her, to know she feels safe enough to sleep in my arms. It warms my heart.”
“That makes sense.” A faraway look entered her great gold-ringed eyes. “When I was traveling with Pierre, my companion, he would fall asleep leaning against me for warmth. I liked that, too.”
Impulsively he said, “Someday I would like to hear about your adventures with Pierre, if you are willing to share them.”
Astonishment rolled from her. “Truly? I would enjoy that very much. He was my first Little One, and I would like him to be remembered. He was proud of my healing, too.”
Finally Darcy had accomplished everything he could for the day, and it was time to pay his nightly visit to Elizabeth's room.
He still slept there every night, holding her precious form in his arms, longing for the day when her body would be sufficiently recovered from giving birth that he could once again show her his love in the most intimate ways.
Still, it was a pleasure to spend a little time with her alone before retiring to bed, and to share kisses and caresses before drifting off to sleep.
And he had fewer nightmares of France when he was with her. The one horrible night when he had tried to sleep alone, when Jenny had been restive and Elizabeth wanted to stay with her in the nursery, had taught him that much.
Tonight she melted into his arms as soon as he reached her, resting her head on his shoulder. “I still cannot believe you are truly back. Every time we are parted, a part of me wonders if it is all a dream.”
It felt unreal to him, too, sometimes. He held her soft form close and nuzzled her neck, letting her scent of lavender wash over him. “I am here, and I never want to leave you again.”
She turned her lips up for a kiss, and for several minutes he could think of nothing but the warmth of her, the taste of her, and the desire throbbing through his body. How had he survived without her for so long?
If he let this go farther, neither of them would want to stop. Reluctantly he lifted his head. “Will you tell me about your day, so I may be part of it?”
She glanced away. “It was rather dull. I practiced with Cerridwen for a time, all the same things as usual. Then I spent the time since dinner in the nursery. Jenny seems calmer tonight, which I was glad to see. Perhaps she is over whatever was troubling her this morning.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Coquelicot did a healing on her today, and it must have helped.”
Elizabeth stiffened. “She did what?”
“She said she just cleared her lungs a little, that they were not strong yet.”
A sharp, indrawn breath was the first sign of danger. “Without asking me first?”
“It was not something I planned,” he said quickly. “We were simply talking. Coquelicot could feel something was not right, and the next thing I knew, I could feel her Talent reaching out. It did help; you saw that yourself.”
“You let a French dragon, one we barely know, use magic on our daughter?” She bit out each word. “I would not have agreed to allow her in the same room with Jenny!”
“You let Rana Akshaya do a healing on her, and you have told me that you do not trust her!”
“Jenny was dying!” Her voice was high-pitched. And she buried her face in her hands and started to sob uncontrollably.
Dare he take her into his arms again while she was angry? But her tears were more than he could bear, so he reached out and rubbed her shoulders. “Jenny is well now,” he said soothingly. “Perfectly well. Coquelicot said the first healing was very well done.”
“Coquelicot says!” she cried. “What is wrong with you? You barely trusted Cerridwen when you left, and now you believe everything from a French dragon you barely know!”
How could he explain that he knew Coquelicot deep down in his very bones?
Not that he understood it himself, but he was certain, beyond certain, that Coquelicot meant to help Jenny, that there was no harm in her.
If only he could tell Elizabeth about his own healing - and about Jack.
“I wish you would spend time with her, too, and then you might understand.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Between trying desperately to master a new Talent which might be the only thing to stop Napoleon, watching for fae incursions, caring for our newborn daughter, and managing my other duties here? Not to mention trying to accept that you have reverted to keeping secrets, and trying to guess what that means.” New sobs tore at her.
She was right. So many burdens had been placed on her shoulders, just weeks after giving birth, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He could not prevent the invasion, get rid of the Wicked King, or make more hours in the day.
Or get rid of his bindings. Even though they were making her lose trust in him.
“I wish I could tell you more,” he said slowly.
“Yes, I know you are under some sort of binding about your bullet wound, the one that has mysteriously disappeared,” she snapped.
“But there are other things, too. Do you think I do not notice the times when you suddenly draw into yourself? When it seems as if you are not even here?” She mopped her eyes with her handkerchief, but it made little difference as her tears continued to spill.
“I cannot explain it,” he said helplessly. “Sometimes I get lost in memories of France.”
“Is that truly all?” she demanded. “Can you tell me honestly that is all of it? You were not like this when we still were in France.”
There it was, then. The thing he feared most thinking of. Could he bring himself to speak of it? He must, for the price of not doing so was hurting Elizabeth. Of risking her love for him, the most important thing in his life.
He wiped his hand across his mouth. “There is more. But it is hard to explain.”
“Can you not at least try?”
He took in a deep breath. “I feel lost. We are in a crisis, and I should do something, but I cannot decide what.”
“What do you mean?”
“Soon nowhere in England will be safe, and I am endangering you even more with my presence.” He let the words pour out quickly, because if he let himself think about it, he would stop.
“Napoleon will target Pemberley because of me. I know I should leave, for your sake. And other times I wonder if I should be sending you and Jenny away to someplace safe, to Wales or even Canada, where none of this can touch you. But I do not want to be parted from you, and so I selfishly do nothing – and risk everything. Including you.”
Her eyes went wide. “No.” It was half a whisper. “Promise me you will not leave. Not to protect me, at least.”
“If it comes to that, in the end, how can I do anything else? Napoleon is coming, and you know as well as I that he will not tolerate my presence here.” Even saying the words made his heart pound.
Where would he go? What could he do, if he became one more of the thousands of refugees who had lost everything when the French emperor came?
“It cannot come to that. It will not. Cerridwen says there is still a way out.” But her lip was trembling.
“For us, or for the dragons? Her visions seem to be about dragons being killed, but what if her way out is a world where the dragons are safe, but you and I are dead or imprisoned?”
She shook her head slowly, her eyes still glittering with tears, but she did not deny his point. “We cannot give up without trying.”
As if they had not been attempting everything to do just that, since the first day of their marriage!
What did she think would be different now?
But he squashed that hopeless voice down into his chest. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, and he owed his wife, his daughter, and his tenants a better fight than that.
“You are right. We will find a way to stop him.” That was not enough, either.
“But we must also make preparations for what we will do if that is not enough. If we must escape.”
Elizabeth's chin jutted out. “Only if we escape together.”
What had he done to deserve this woman? Now he did take her in his arms again, feeling the blessing of her love.
The warmth of her body, and her curves, simultaneously familiar and new.
Those differences from giving birth to their child, which made her even more beautiful to him.
He buried his face in the silkiness of her hair, drowning himself in the scent of her. “Only together,” he whispered.
“And you will tell me things, and not hide them from me? Even if you think they will worry me?”
“I will do my best.” Time to be honest, though. “When there are no damned bindings.”
She gave a low gurgle of laughter. “My poor love. How you must despise that!”
“I do!” he said feelingly, grateful he seemed to be in accord with his beloved Elizabeth again, a relief he felt down to his bones.
Then she was seeking out his lips with her own, tracing her tongue along the line between them and inviting him in.
With a groan, he accepted her invitation. How long it had been since he had been able to do more than that! It was enough, though; it would have to be. He poured all his love and passion into the kiss that seemed to burn deep within him.
Finally, breathless, he pulled back, only an inch. “We must be careful,” he panted.
Her reddened, swollen lips curved in a teasing smile. “The midwife says it is safe now.”
Triumph surged through him, followed by urgent need. “In that case,” he breathed, “what are we waiting for?” He swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.