Elizabeth Bennet's left nostril twitched in a perturbed fashion. Without opening her eyes, she dreamily attempted to scratch the offending body part with her right hand. But her right hand, attached to her right arm, felt an enormous weight that would not signify in her half-asleep mind. Therefore, the consequence of an itchy nose demanded at least one eyelid to lazily lift and give a blurred glance at her invalid arm.

Intelligence gathered by one eye quickly required the confirmation of a second eye, followed by a squawk of surprise as her entire body pushed and shoved a retreat from the other body inhabiting the bed with her! Groping at the thin sheet to cover her naked form, Elizabeth clamped her mouth shut lest she wake the burly, somewhat hairy, man who had slumbered easily nestled next to her. His back facing her side of the bed, the broad muscular structure of his shoulders and bare back declared her bedmate definitively male. Though not unpleasing to view, she could not allow herself such idiotic indulgences.

Her sandy eyes blinked furiously, she urgently wished to push the last remaining befuddlement of this disastrous awakening out of her mind so that she might think of a plan. Panic rose with the bile threatening to overcome her senses as Elizabeth tried to think about her needs. Clothing first, most certainly, and then an escape.

Shakily, she covered her face to focus as she sat up in the bed and tucked her knees to her chest. A bit of cool, smooth metal brushed against her cheek. Elizabeth removed that palm to hold it out for closer inspection.

"Oh no, no it cannot be," she whispered.

An emerald stone and gold band she had never seen before silently glimmered as a testament to what her gut already feared. Between the token on her hand, her state of undress, and her proximity to a male of the species, Elizabeth Bennet began to believe she was Elizabeth Bennet no more.

But who was the man she had lost her heart to in Scotland? What tricks and deception had he wrought that she remembered very little aside from coming to the border to search for her sister Lydia.

No, she could remember more than that as her breath became ragged. A dark tumble, pain, and a patch of bright sunlight flooded her mind as she squinted her eyes harder to keep them shut, replaying a nightmare in her mind.

"Mmmm, Elizabeth . . ." The man next to her began to stir, rolling to his stomach, his head turning towards her.

Fearful, Elizabeth scuttled away and fell off the bed with a yelp.

Darcy's eyes flew open. "Elizabeth!" He crawled over the mattress to where his new bride had landed directly upon her backside. Realizing she was not hurt, but mostly surprised, he began to chuckle.

"How did we? Mr. Darcy? Where am I?"

Elizabeth's questions brought a quick frown to Fitzwilliam.

"That is a mean jest, madam. Come back to bed. We did not finish what we started last night." He held out a hand and offered her a devilish smile. Elizabeth's jaw quivered.

"But, but, I would never —" Her eyes darted again to the ring on her finger. "Are you saying we are . . . we have. . ."

"Not yet, Mrs. Darcy. There was the inconvenience of sleepiness on your part. I confess it stung my pride, but I was not surprised at your exhaustion with that much travel in one day for a lady." Fitzwilliam considered Elizabeth carefully as the woman could not prevent herself from trembling in the mess of bedsheets surrounding her on the floor though the room was not chilled. He sat up and turned away from her, pulling a lawn shirt over his head as he had not removed his breeches last evening.

"So we did not. We did not," she muttered to herself, over and over, scrambling to reach for her shift and gown on the floor by the foot of the bed, just as a disshevled Darcy stood to walk around it. Elizabeth froze, grasping the bed sheets to cover her front, but as she was leaned over, Darcy could spy her naked back curving elegantly to a part of her he admired very much.

"I would not be such a rogue to ravish my wife while she lay unconscious." Darcy took a step to help her, but Elizabeth pulled back, rubbing her temple with her left hand as she griped the clothes with the bedsheets in her right hand close to her chest.

"Are you ill? Why do you not remember?" Fitzwilliam's voice cracked as he asked his second question.

"I, I do not know. I am trying very hard to recall We are married? For how long?" Elizabeth began to cry as she looked up at Fitzwilliam and tried to find some memory to hold onto.

Crouching down, the creases around his brown eyes became very soft. "This, this is my fault. You were grievously injured two days ago in a carriage accident. You were searching for your . . ." Darcy swallowed. "You had left your aunt in Gretna Green to search for Miss Lydia."

Elizabeth nodded, that much she did remember. As well as the screaming and a dead boy in the grass. Another face came to her.

"Peter!"

Mr. Darcy nodded, he reached out his hand but still, Elizabeth drew back.

"You are distressed, madam. I shall send for your maid." And the doctor, he added privately to himself.

Elizabeth gulped and found her voice. "Thank, thank you very much. I am very sorry that my mind has faltered, Mr. Darcy."

"Perhaps I should allow you privacy. Forgive me." Fitzwilliam rose and stepped beyond her to exit his own room to stand in the hallway inappropriately dressed. His man, Callum, jumped to see his master in the hall in such unkept dress.

"Sir?"

"Mrs. Darcy is indisposed. I should like a bath and send Fiona to her mistress." Darcy turned to walk to the bathing room adjoined to his suite that had a separate door. He had the water closets modified for the more modern developments in all of his homes. "And send a messenger to the Dr. Rowley, tell him I desire his presence as soon as he is available."

"Yes, sir, right away, sir!" Callum Stewart spun around with the freshly pressed garments for his master still in his arm. He had planned to discretely place them in the dressing room, but he did not dare to go into his master's room if Mrs. Darcy was in there, alone. Feeling perplexed, he took a step forward, then back, then exasperated, decided his best way would be back the way he came to order the bath, send Fiona to take care of her charge, and find an errand boy.

This business of a married Mr. Darcy had begun on a very awkward morning for all and Mr. Stewart, with his preference for calmness and peace, did not find he liked it one bit.

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I am writing today, so more chapters might go up beyond this and the next one I am posting. Int he final version, these chapters will be solidified into more logical chapters but in Fanfiction because it's a living, breath activity, writing LIVE, as I call it, I keep the chapter count in here to correspond with the scene count in my writing software. This way, when you all say in a review of a chapter you wished something else had happened, or you had a question, I USE your lovely feedback to make the story BETTER for final publication.

Speaking of, I will work this week to get the preorder up on the other places, but this title can be reserved as we speak on Amazon by the same title. :) Already, fans of my work have put the book at #4 in hot new releases in scottish historical fiction. Every word I speak today into the Dragon is for those who have so kindly clicked to preorder. I am always astonished by your love and support and please know, I send it right back in spades.

XOXOXO
Elizabeth Ann West