"Colonel Fitzwilliam is awake and complaining about the lack of food. He calls the doctor a cruel devil. He appears to be in high spirits. Wickham's superior, Colonel Forster, is visiting with him now."
"Forster here?" He frantically felt about his person, his hand contacting with nothing but bare skin. He grasped her wrist. "The list. Where is it?"
"I gave it to Forster. It's safe."
He breathed a deep sigh of relief, then shook his head. "I didn't think we'd make it. Elizabeth, I told you to stay in the house. For God's sake, you might have been killed."
"Yes, I might have, but I wasn't. Don't be angry with me, William. I had to do whatever I could."
Why, he wondered, for Wickham? Did it matter? She was with him how, and try as he might, he couldn't summon even a scowl of displeasure. Instead, one side of his mouth quirked up. "Thank God you did. We'd never have made it. Thank you, Elizabeth. You saved our lives."
She smiled and nodded, uttering a humble "It was in my best interest."
Again, he experienced a knife sharp pain within him. His heart cursed him for loving a woman who loved another man. "How is Wickham, then?"
She shook her head. "He didn't take well to having the bullet removed. He's feverish and unconscious. The doctor says we just have to wait. Lydia's been with him all morning."
He closed his eyes, remembering the hellish journey across the Strait. If he never had to travel it again, he would be happy. "And Wickham shot the men chasing us?"
"He's a neat aim."
He nodded. Elizabeth's fingers entwined with his, and, startled, his gaze flew to her.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, lifting her other hand to trail across his cheek.
He closed his eyes, reveling in her touch. If only she loved him, he'd find the strength to jump to the moon. "I have a headache, my forehead burns and my arms feel like lead. But I'm glad to be alive."
"I'm glad you are alive."
He opened his eyes to her tender smile, and marveled. He wanted to ask if she really meant it—
A tap came on the door. It opened to admit Forster. "May I come in? Ah, Darcy, you've awakened from the dead, I see. Quite an heroic deed you men accomplished. I'm proud of you."
Darcy nodded, a faint smile curving his lips. "Thank you, but we never would have made it, had it not been for Elizabeth."
“Indeed. Damned interesting that my three top men needed to be saved by women." He chuckled. "I must be off to London with all haste, but I wanted to check on your health first. Your lovely bride gave me the list. I daresay you may start breathing freely. And by the by, I rather think your spying days are done. Married man and all that."
“I should hope so!" Elizabeth fervently declared.
Forster chuckled. "You have a worthy bride, Darcy."
"Thank you, Forster. I rather agree with you." He glanced at Elizabeth, and she smiled at him, a bit tremulously, with a touch of wonder.
"Well," said Forster, "must be on my way. I'll tidy up all odds and ends—you concentrate on your recuperation. Mrs. Darcy, thank you for your help. And Mr. Darcy? I'm glad it's done."
"My sentiments exactly, Forster. God speed."
The door shut behind him with a quiet click. Darcy looked into Elizabeth's eyes. After a moment, she asked softly, "Did you mean that?"
"That you're a worthy bride? Every word of it." He paused. Should he bare his heart, or continue hiding it from her? Lifting her hand, he kissed it. "Elizabeth, I know when we married, I wanted only an acceptable wife. But that's not enough for me any more." He swallowed hard. "I love you."
There, it was out, and her eyes were shining with emotions he'd never seen in their clear green depths. Hope, wonderment...love? He had to say one more thing. "I'm aware you love Wickham...but I hope someday to steal your affections away from him."
Close to tears, Elizabeth drew a deep breath and rushed into speech. "I sat at the window, waiting for your return, and I thought I'd die if you didn't. It wasn't Wickham I waited for. I have been lacking in sense. And when I saw you fall..." She gulped, blinking back the tears. Lifting her head higher, she said in a stronger voice, "William, you're wonderful, and I love you."
Darcy stared, amazement and a tentative spring of hope rising within him. He seized her hand, tugging her from the chair and onto the bed beside him.
"Elizabeth." It was all he could say—nothing else would pass his constricted throat. He pulled her into his arms, and held her close, cherishing the feel of her. He smoothed back her hair. "You're sure you don't love Wickham?"
"Not in the way I love you. I feel something different with you, something deeper, something more special than I have words to explain. At this moment, it is so perfect, being here in your arms—it is the only place I ever want to be."
Darcy studied her, loving every line of her face, every emotion apparent in her eyes. He smoothed his palm across her hair, and embraced her. “It was a nasty business, trying to find an acceptable wife, but I daresay the end of my quest has surpassed my every dream."
Elizabeth smiled and drew closer, lifting her lips for his kiss. She remembered how, once, she would have done almost anything to avoid becoming Darcy's wife. But oh, she decided, her mouth melting against his, how she would have been cheated had she not.
THE END
Darcy's Quest Page 16