Hi there! Part 3 of this series, 'Bewitched' is now available wherever ebooks are sold! (Amazon, Apple, Kobo, B&N, you name it!) Just search for my name, 'Grace Reeve' and you'll see it there on my author page. I hope everyone's having as wonderful a time as is possible in these trying times.

~Grace

Elizabeth joined her husband for breakfast the following morning, after having a very fitful sleep, when she slept at all. She'd spent a bit longer on her toilet and dress that morning, in the hopes that she would be able to hide the sleeplessness from her countenance. It was all for naught, apparently, for Fitzwilliam noted at once the problem and quickly pulled her aside as soon as he was able.

"Elizabeth, what is the matter?" He asked, his brow knit once more with worry. "Are you well?"

"I am," she told him. "I am very well, I assure you, darling husband."

"Something has displeased you, then. I… I apologize if I am to blame."

Now, it was her turn to knit her brow with worry. "What?"

"I knew I had done, as I was leaving you…" he trailed off, his face reddening as he realized what he was saying, and more importantly, where he was saying it. "Forgive me, I'm embarrassing you."

"All is always forgiven, Fitzwilliam," she said softly. "And I am not displeased with you. Since we were married, you have never displeased me."

"There is something, though, is there not? I have felt it. Ever since we went on honeymoon."

She shook her head. "I am convinced it is just my nerves."

He looked little assured by her admission. "Surely it is more than just that, Elizabeth."

"Overactive nerves are come by honestly in my family, I am sure you are aware…" she said with a soft laugh. "There was no way to escape them, Mr. Darcy."

"Elizabeth, please do not tease me now. Tell me what I have done."

Confusion swirled through her mind as again, she shook her head. "Darling, I assure you, from the bottom of my heart, that you have done nothing untoward. You have been doting and loving, taking care of my every need and wish, even the ones I did not dare voice. You have been a model husband. It is… it is I who fears she has displeased you."

His dark gaze bore into hers, and she felt quite weak in light of it, reaching out to grasp hold of his arm. "You could never displease me, Elizabeth. Not if you spent me out of my entire inheritance and never spoke a kind word to me again."

"I would never—"

"I know you would never, and that is all the more reason to love you, darling," he reached for her hands. "I fear this is not something we can discuss outside of your bedchamber. Am I correct in this assumption?"

She nodded, wondering how he could be so congruous with her thoughts when she had not ever spoken aloud even a word of her worries.

"Very well, darling. I will visit you this night, and we will speak about whatever it is you need to speak about."

She nodded and felt hot tears begin to well in her eyes as her Fitzwilliam leaned over to press a soft kiss to her temple.

What a wonderful husband she had, indeed.

When he arrived in her bedchambers, she still had no earthly idea how she was going to tell him what was needed, what she desired.

He was still dressed, albeit he'd forgone his coat and stood before her in his waistcoat. It accentuated his narrow waist. His broad shoulders. Two things that brought to the forefront of Elizabeth's mind the reason for this encounter.

Fitzwilliam stood awkwardly in the doorway for a long moment, looking around her room. "Are you quite comfortable in here, Elizabeth?" he began at once, seemingly unable to allow the silence to stand for long.

A smile spread across her face as she watched him in his very awkward attempt at small talk. Unbeknownst to him, he had given her just the right cue to begin her discussion.

"I am quite comfortable in here…" she began. "Perhaps a bit too comfortable?"

His hand paused upon one of the tapestries he was admiring. "Too comfortable?"

"Quite. I find myself swallowed up in this grand bed all alone. The room echoes and reminds me of how singular I am. It really is not to be borne, Mr. Darcy." She hoped her tone conveyed the teasing nature of her quibbles, but a mere glance in his direction revealed that it had not.

He frowned, wringing his hands slightly before answering her. "Would you like another room, my darling? I'm afraid there are none that adjoin with my own, but I would forego that luxury if only it would please you."

"No, no… Fitzwilliam, you misunderstand my intention!" she quickly countered, going to him and reaching for his hands, imploring him to look at her. "I was merely trying to make light of an uncomfortable situation… Darling husband, I simply wish for you to visit me more often!"

His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline and he dropped his hands from hers, one of them moving up to rake into the curls atop his head. "More often?" he sputtered. "My dear, sweet Elizabeth, I… I…"

She went to him again, reaching again for his hand, lacing it into her own. "Would you like to sit down?"

He nodded absently, allowing himself to be led to her settee and placed upon it. His face had all but gone white as he turned to face her.

Alarmed, Elizabeth clasped his hand all the tighter. "Fitzwilliam… did I ask for the wrong thing, my darling?"

"No, no… you've never done anything wrong since I've met you—"

"That is a blatant falsehood, Fitzwilliam, and you know it."

He shook his head. "No, no… you didn't ask for the wrong thing, but I fear it's something I cannot give you."

A dreadful feeling began to drip down from her face to her abdomen. It was as she had feared after all! "You cannot?" she repeated. "So I am correct in assuming I have asked for too much?"

"It is not too much, and yet, I cannot give it to you. You deserve it and more, dear wife, but I fear I do not know how to love you. I do not know how to love a woman such as you. I cannot give you what you ask for, Elizabeth… I am not man enough. I am sorry."

She was stunned. "Fitzwilliam, you indeed are man enough."

"I am not. I can tell when I visit you… I disappoint you. It is why I do not come to your bedchamber more often. I can tell I am leaving you wanting, but I fear I cannot give you what you desire."

"What are you speaking of? Of course you give me what I want!"

"You are not yet with child, Elizabeth. And we have been married these nine months already…" He lowered his voice. "I am clearly not giving you what you need."

"You think I need a child, Fitzwilliam? Of course I want children, but that's not all I want!"

He pressed his lips together. "I know that my darling, but it is a symptom of a much larger problem."

She furrowed her brow. "Of what?"

"You are a woman who is very worthy of being pleased, and I believe I have succeeded in pleasing you in all ways save one."

She struggled at once to discern his meaning, and could only return to the worry that had been keeping her wide awake most evenings.

"Fitzwilliam, I sincerely hope I've never said or behaved in a way that has caused you to think so ill of yourself."

"It was not purposeful, I assure you, my darling."

She reached for his hands, pulling them to her lips. "What can I do?"

"Teach me…" he whispered, his eyes upon her lips as he watched her kiss his fingers. "Teach me how to please you."

Her eyes widened. "What? Fitzwilliam, I do not have any idea how—"

He disengaged one of his hands, bringing it up to her cheek. "Please? I want to be the kind of husband you deserve…"

"You already are," she said quickly, tilting her head to lean into his touch. Elizabeth swallowed thickly, reaching up to press her hand over his. "But what if I do not know any better than you do?"

"Just… tell me what to do," he repeated, his eyes widening slightly. "Tell me."

Her mouth went dry as she realized what he was asking. "You want me to… talk to you… during the—"

He nodded and leaned over, his lips lingering against hers for a long moment. "Tell me how to love you, my darling… All I want is to please you."

Elizabeth was filled with a heady feeling. One she'd scarcely felt before in her life. She'd felt a little of it when she'd spoken harshly to him the first time he had proposed, but never to this great magnitude. Her body responded to the feeling, priming her for more of what he was promising.

"And you are willing?" she asked, her voice pitched low and sounding so unlike her usual tones.

She watched his throat bob before he nodded.

"Even now?"

"Especially now."

"Right, then…" She rose to her feet, with Fitzwilliam following. "Let us away to bed, then, husband."

"I am afraid I am not dressed for bed," he replied, glancing down at his clothes.

"All the better," she replied, glancing up and down his body in an approving manner. "Just… undress, and come to bed as you are."

His face blushed crimson, but he obliged her.

She watched him reach for the buttons of his waistcoat, dragging each one open as he peeled the garment from his body. His cravat was soon tossed with the waistcoat onto the chair nearest him. His shirt followed, and Elizabeth thought for a long moment about stepping forward and helping him, but she remained where she was, primly seated at the end of her bed as he peeled each article of clothing from his body.

Every article until he was quite bare.

Her eyes scanned his form, looking over the expanse of skin she'd scarcely seen before now.

Her body responded in kind, a burning wet feeling washing over her lower half, one she had only felt shadows of before. She was almost embarrassed by the reaction, but she sat very still, despite the flush that was surely covering her body now.

"Come over here," she said, patting the bed beside her and thrilling as he did so. He was so close, so very close that she could touch him. Run her fingers over his skin and watch him shudder with pleasure.

"I have not ever seen this much of you at once," she said softly, feeling his shoulders shake with laughter as he agreed.

"It never occurred to me that you should like to," he confessed.

"Why would I not? You really are quite handsome, Mr. Darcy."

"And you are a vision of beauty, Mrs. Darcy," he replied, his eyes firmly stationed upon hers, keeping her from looking away.

"Am I?" she asked, reaching for the ribbons holding her nightgown closed. "Would you like to see me?" She felt emboldened by his nakedness, and it made her to show him the same.

He nodded.

She started to reach for the ribbons, but thought better of it.

"See me, Fitzwilliam," she murmured, reaching for his hands instead. She stood in front of him and pulled both hands up to the ribbons at her throat. "See me."

"Elizabeth…" he whispered, tugging on the ribbon at once.