“I am so sorry, my love.” Her eyes gleamed brighter in the dim light.
Damn. The last thing he wanted was to cause her pain! Gently he rubbed a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. “I hoped it might improve before you learned of it.”
“It does not matter,” she said fiercely. “You are alive. And free?”
“I am not a prisoner, but were I to leave this place on my own, that would quickly change.” And it was not freedom to be stuck in a house, dependent on the charity of a stranger, unable even to defend himself with his useless arm.
“You were right to stay here,” she said softly.
“I have no choice,” he said, sudden anger rising inside him. “Do you know what they are doing to Englishmen here? Bloodthirsty mobs attacking them on the streets, their revenge for the attempt on Napoleon’s life and the burning of the Tuileries. Innocent people have been killed because of my mission.” He struggled to modulate his voice, to sound like the civilized gentleman he once had been. How could he, though, when she had placed herself in such peril?
She shuddered. “There were rumors of that at home, but I did not know whether to believe them.”
“Believe it. You are in danger here.” There was so much he wanted to ask her, so many unimportant details, or simply to hold her to him, but they could be interrupted at any moment. Business had to come first. He lowered his voice to a whisper, just in case anyone might be listening. “I must know. Has the War Office been informed about Napoleon?”
“Of his shape-shifting? I sent word to Granny, who is still in London. And I told your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, when he came to Pemberley.”
“That is something, at least,” he said bitterly. “Otherwise it would all have been for nothing. Leaving you, being trapped in France, getting shot.”
She shook her head. “That is not true! Yes, Napoleon still lives, but what you learned about him is vital. The sea serpents, too, and the device to find dragons. It is so important.”
He barely suppressed a sound of derision, one directed at himself, not at her. “A slight help at best. Did you know that Napoleon has now set his sights on conquering England next instead of Russia? The newspapers here are full of it, whipping people into a frenzy. They say he plans to cross the Channel in the spring. All because of the attack on him.” It would have been better for Britain if he had never left Pemberley. Why had he never considered the consequences that might follow a failed mission?
She gasped. “No. I had not heard that.”
Of course they would have kept it out of the British newspapers. Otherwise people would panic. “And now you have walked into the trap with me. Why are you here? You were supposed to stay safe at Pemberley, you and the child. You should not have risked this.”
She gripped his hands, her eyes wide. “It had to be done. Cerridwen had a vision of a disaster if we did not hunt for you.”
The disaster had already happened, as far as he was concerned. “You are more important to me than any vision,” he said urgently. “We must get you back home.” As if even Pemberley was safe now.
But that was the problem. There was no safety to be had anywhere, not while Napoleon was at large. And Darcy had a wife and soon-to-be baby to protect. A child who needed to be born at Pemberley.
She laid her hands against his chest. “We will both go back together,” she said fiercely.
No doubt she meant well, but it was a ridiculous hope. He had been working day and night to come up with an escape plan, and the best he had would take many months. And that was assuming Napoleon’s troops did not discover him first, when Elizabeth seemed to have no trouble doing so. “How did you find me? Who else knows I am here?”
“Only Cerridwen, who can track you. I followed her directions.”
Another life risked pointlessly. “Cerridwen is here, too? The dragon lodestones will find her, and then you.” And him, too, but that mattered less.
“Those can only work at a short distance, according to the Nest. And Cerridwen has been careful. She does not even speak to me via sending, simply flies to me as a falcon. The Eldest says it is safer if we do not use our Talent.”
“But the risk – you should not have come.” He was repeating himself, but how could he bear it if she was taken by the French, all because of his errors?
She drew in a sharp breath, as if he had hurt her. “Should I have stayed safely home, knowing it meant England going up in flames?” Her voice shook. “There was never a choice, not when it came to you. Not for me. And Imissedyou.”
Something inside him cracked open, past all the misery and hopelessness of the last months, something raw and agonized. “I cannot tell you how much I have longed for you, or what it means to have you here beside me. I have gone days without eating, been so cold I thought I would never be warm again, been shot and lost half my blood. But none of that hurt as much as missing you.” He pulled her in again with his good arm, pressing his cheek against her head. How could he ever let her go again?
She gulped. “Oh, my love!” And then she wound her arms around his neck and brought her mouth to his.
The feathery touch of her lips was a gift, an acceptance, a welcoming he had not known he needed. And then she deepened the kiss, sending a surge of desire coursing through him. All the pain he had been holding back, all the nights alone dreaming of her, all the aching pain of his failed mission – it all became fuel for his desperate hunger for her.
And he could tell she felt it, too, from her quick gasps of breath to the way she arched against him, as if she could never be close enough to him. This was how it should be, the two of them together, lost in their love.
He needed more, so much more. “I wish there were somewhere we could be together.” How he ached to be part of her again, to feel her skin against his! But it was impossible.
“The carriage,” she gasped. “We can manage it in there.”
