Elizabeth woke up with a heavy pressure across her waist. It wasn't an unpleasant pressure, indeed it felt quite nice. Opening her eyes and peering sdown her blanket covered body, she spied an arm, comfortably and elegantly slung across her waist. Turning her gaze to the side, she wasn't surprised to see the back of a dark curly head. Quickly she reminded herself of her very logical reasons fro doing something so shameful, namely sharing a bed with a man unwed. Yes, her motives had been pure: they had had nothing to do with how nice he had felt the day he kidnapped her, riding behind her on that horse, holding her tight in his well formed arms, such a lovely contrast to the would be husb and she had left stuttering at the alter… No, nothing to do with any of that, and all to do with being kind and reasonable.

She had to get up. It was one thing to share a bed out of need and reason, quite another to linger there in the morning. But how to go about releasing herself from his arm with out waking him? She rolled to the left yet found not yield from the wall. If she dared to roll right she was sure to find no yield from the gentleman sleeping there. Hesitating, for a moment, she started to wiggle downward toward the foot of the bed, but quickly realized, the further his arm rose toward her chest, that this plan of action was particularly inappropriate. Wriggling back up, the arm tightened and pulled her close to the torso it was attached to.

"You move too much," came a muffled voice from the other side of the mop of unruly black hair.

Well, she thought, he'd certainly done a good job of stopping her escape.

"Mr. Darcy, we should get up," she rejoined, realizing for the first time how ineffective the blanket "barrier" was.

"Why?"

Shocked, Elizabeth exclaimed "But you are a gentleman sir! And this is not appropriate!"

"You suggested the idea," then added as he rolled his head around to look at his bedmate, "And Mr. Darcy the gentleman has taken a temporary leave of absence."

She was relieved to no longer be talking to the back of his head, but his dark sincere gaze which now held something akin to teasing in it very much unnerved her… but not necessarily in a bad way. "What do you mean sir?"

He grinned mischievously. "He was thrown overboard last night. Now, Darcy the gentleman would never even have taken you up on your most gracious offer of the bed last night."

"And who, pray tell, are you sir?" she was grinning herself now, forgetting the impropriety of the moment; lost in the silliness of the moment and Darcy's daring smile.

"Fitzwilliam the Dread Pirate Darcy," he said quite gravely.

Elizabeth was silent for a mere couple seconds before she burst out in mirthful laughter. Darcy did not see what was funny, yet could not help but let the corners of his grave mouth turn upward at the sight of her smiling and jovial countenance, the sound of her lilting and hearty laugh. "Mr. Darcy, you are so changed from when I first met you."

"Changed?" Darcy did not think so. "How so? I am the same now as I was when first I met you, only my heart had not yet been touched. And I'd never before kidnapped a woman and ran away with her to anywhere intent on elopement. But then of course, you stole my heart first."

Elizabeth could find no answer for this declaration. Not with him staring so intently into her eyes like that. Those dark deep eyes. She had to break away or else… she had to break his gaze. Quickly, she turned to stare at the ceiling. What had she been asking him? She thought back, he had completely thrown her off with his words. She had stolen his heart, he claimed. How had she never known it?! He was always so grim, so pensive and forbidding. Of course! Now she knew what it was she had told him, he had changed since she first met him. Was the change in him truly all her doing? She blushed lightly.

"Elizabeth, you've been quite for some time. Have I said something to offend you? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I should not have said such a thing." Darcy was worried. Was she so indifferent to him that his declaration of love, so tenderly delivered affected her so meanly?

"No Mr. Darcy, you have offended me in no way, rather the opposite I would say." She blushed a darker shade this time, and looked stubbornly toward the ceiling. She decided to bring to topic back to what it should be. "But you have changed sir, and I cannot think that it was all my doing. I must ask you a personal and rather… uncomfortable question, to ascertain if I'm correct in my appraisal."

"Anything. I am at your service."

"When… when did you begin to feel… deeper feelings for me?"
Darcy pursed his lips and pulled his dark brows together, seriously contemplating the question. "Hm. That is indeed a tough question." One he figured he would answer in the hopes of gaining her love in return. He decided that the more he talked of his love for her, the more she might realize her own. It was a shot anyway. "In truth, I began to fall for you from the moment I saw you. And, again truthfully, it irked me. But your fine eyes soon got the best of me," he smiled. "But, I believe I knew I loved you when you danced with me at Bingley's ball. When you challenged me with your gaze and threw verbal spears at my heart, I knew."

"You are a strange man, to fall in love with a woman constantly fighting with you. I suppose it must be that no one else had the courage to, and you like brave women."

"That must be it," he agreed, a content smile on his face. She would not talk so comfortably about this if she did not in some way return his regard. He would have to ask her her very own question one day."

"But you have proved my point Mr. Darcy. I cannot be the cause of your change. We were still in society long after Bingley's ball, and you were as grim and rude to my family and neighbors as you had been before that night."

"Grim and rude! I've never been rude to a soul, unless they deserved it!"

"You are either self delusional, or a liar Mr. Darcy!" admonished Elizabeth, sitting bolt upright in bed and turning her head to glare at him.

"I am neither!" shouted Darcy, mimicking Elizabeth. They both sat there in the crumpled bed, on a tiny boat being tossed about by the gentle sea, and glaring at each other ferociously. "Explain your words madam. So I may better understand your allegations and defend my actions.

"From the moment you took your place in the tiny sphere of our country society, you have looked down on us, refused to see beyond our meager fortunes to the people who lay beyond. You would not dance but with Bingley's sisters at that first ball, when many girls sat along the walls without partners."

"Would it help if I said there was but one lady I desired to dance with that night?"

"I would not believe you sir. I have heard your mumbled yet scathing comments to your friend Miss. Caroline," there was a hint of venom in Elizabeth's words when she all but spit out the name. "My family may be silly, but we are still gently born and bred. We may have no fortune to back our names and marriage prospects, but we are still of your station sir! I do not see how you managed to fall in love with me while hating my family and station, and seemingly hating me, the entire time!" She was livid. Forgetting propriety and decorum, she crawled right over Darcy and out of the bed. She stalked across the room, grabbed her one small bag, and marched to the small water closet that was adjacent their room.

Darcy was left startled and fuming and alone in the bed. He crossed his arms angrily over his chest before standing up and storming out of the room. Above deck, he leaned against the ship's railing and looked out over the dark, gently rolling sea. He had not been cold and aloof! He had not been rude and condescending! He had simply been… simply been himself! He mentally sent him back weeks past, further and further, sent himself back to the beginning. In his mind's eye, he surveyed himself in his memories. It was possibly his attitude could be misconstrued for a sense of superiority. But it wasn't. He knew that, but no one else did he reminded himself. He knew why he had acted so. But he did not know if he could admit this flaw to Elizabeth!

Darcy was shy. Horribly so. He remembered now that he had had so little friends while at school because of this malady. Bingly had been the only one determined and friendly enough to approach Dead Man Darcy (called so because of the dead, cold look on his face when in foreign company) and take the time to break down all of Darcy's carefully constructed walls. Bingley had helped Darcy overcome his social fears somewhat, but the darker and more somber man was still somewhat of a loner, feeling more comfortable in his own presence, than in the presence of others. Until now. He felt more comfortable now when Elizabeth was by his side than even when he was alone.

He had to tell her. But would she believe his excuse? The great lord and rich man Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who had slept in her bed and just asserted his existence as a pirate was shy? She would never believe him. But he would try. He went back to the room, searching for a clean change of clothes, some fresh water to wash up in, and a lovely lady to apologize to.

She was not in the room. Worried, he knocked on the door to the water closet. No answer. He opened the door to find the small room bereft of any occupants. Calming himself, he made good on his other desires, a clean outfit and a brief scrub, and left the room in search of his captive. More like my captive, he corrected himself. She was nowhere above deck, and the captain had not seen her all day. Darcy's heart began to race, his pulse quickened and he took deep breaths to calm himself. One had to stay level headed when faced with a likely disaster. He searched to rooms in the ship one by one, which didn't take very long as the ship was extremely small. The last room in the boat was probably the one he should have checked first. But men in distress are not the most levelheaded of creatures.

She was sitting on top of a large, weathered, sliced, cut, yet steady table. Knives, pots and pans of all kinds hung dangerously above her head. A rather sharp and large knife grazed closely against a black curl. Quickly and deftly, Darcy jumped through the door into the kitchen and grabbed Elizabeth from the table. Not expecting such a thing to occur, Elizabeth let out a startled yelp. "Mr. Darcy! I shall never get used to you snatching me away from things. I do hope you do not make a habit of this! Could you relate to me the reason for this snatching? I do not think it could be 'I love this woman' this time!"

"Unfortunately you are wrong. That statement is, most likely, at the root of it. You had a knife hanging above your head! Into your hair! Excuse me from feeling a bit concerned at the site. We are on a boat, being tossed violently about by waves!" He still held Elizabeth close to him, and would not have gave way had she not withdrew herself from his arms.

"Violent! The sea is so gentle today I can barely feel it… which is a good thing." Then she added as an afterthought, "I am angry at you sir. And not because you pulled me so startlingly from the kitchen table."

Darcy frowned. Could she not see that she could have been killed? She was reckless. She needed someone to watch over her. But he would never have the pleasure of such a task if he did not gain her trust and friendship again. "Elizabeth, Miss. Bennet, you were right, my behavior has been abominable. But I can explain."

"I do not wish for excuses Mr. Darcy. What can you explain? There is nothing to explain."

"But I fear there is. It… it embarrasses me to admit this to you… I… I am shy." He said this last part under his breath, quickly.

"You are what sir? I did not hear that last part." It would have been a miracle if Darcy had heard himself, he had said it so low. Diverting his eyes from his own, he stared down at his boots and repeated himself.

"I'm truly sorry Mr. Darcy, but I must have you repeat yourself once more. And look at me this time… please." He did as she bade, but not first without a grumble. And once more Elizabeth saw truth. There was embarrassment, anger, pleading, and truth. "I believe you sir. Will you have breakfast with me? And tell me of this peculiar malady, and how it causes you to act like an ogre?" she smiled brightly at him and he found himself smiling slightly back. They had a wonderful, revealing breakfast. And indeed, the rest of the journey was very pleasant indeed.

They slept together the next night also. And again, Elizabeth woke up to a heavy arm around her waist. This time she did not wriggle away from it, but snuggled up against it until the man who owned it slipped silently from the bed. She feigned sleep until he had washed and left the room.

They stood together at the rail of the ship, looking out across misty waters and low hanging skies to a tiny sliver of land that loomed in the distance. His arm had snuck around her waist and she had let it stay. This would be over when they reached that tiny sliver. She would start searching for a job as a governess and he would leave her to go back to his home. He might even go back to Netherfield and his friends the Bingleys and Hursts. She blocked the thought from her mind and with all her bravery, leaned her head upon his shoulder. The act made him tighten his arm around her waist lean his own head against hers. He was winning her. He knew he was. He let himself hope he was.

"What are you thinking of Elizabeth?"

"Netherfield," she answered truthfully without thinking. She would not let him think she had been thinking of him. "I was thinking of my sister, and your friend. And how they must miss us and wonder where we are."

The thought of Bingly and Jane together bothered Darcy. Would his friend still be in love with the elder Miss. Bennet? Did she truly return his affections was she simply a fortune hunter. Her sister was not that certain. Though he could not say as much for the rest of her family. Especially the mother. He did not voice these thoughts, but having the one person who might be able to relieve his worry about his friend and his "angel", he could not keep completely silent. "Elizabeth, I have a question."

"Hm?"

"Your sister… does she know that Mr. Bingley seems to be in love with her?"

"Yes! Who could not see what is so plainly writ in every crevice of his face, every intonation of his voice," she laughed.

"Does your sister love him back? Where it is quite obvious to see how Bingley feels, your sister's own heart is unreadable my lady. I do not wish for my friend to make an offer of marriage and be turned down. He is of a sensitive temperament. The last time he was "in love" he was heartbroken for several months. Though I do not believe he was truly in love that time. Yet, I cannot help but feel that he truly is this time. I would just like to know that your sister feels the same… and that her motives are pure." Maybe, he thought afterwards, I should not have added that last part. Hopefully she would not take it the wrong way.

If he had seen Elizabeth's face, he would have seen it become quite serious before she answered. "My sisters motives are pure sir," she answered coldly, though she did not move from his side. "And she is very much in love with your good friend. And I sincerely hope he voices his adoration soon, for I would love to hear of Jane's happiness if I cannot see it for myself."

She was not mad at him. Thank the wonderfully good Lord! But she sounded sad. She did not think that she would ever see her sister again, or at least not soon. But he would take her wherever she wished to go! And especially if it was to see the two people most dear to them wed. He only hoped that they would be wed when they went, or else… or else they would not be there he reminded himself. Because it would not be proper to travel together, to live together in sin. Then did she not return his feelings? Did she not count on his marrying him?

"Elizabeth, what shall you do when we land?" he asked tentatively.

"I shall place an add in a local paper for anyone needing someone to fill the position of governess."

"Where will you stay?" He now turned to face her, taking each of her hands in his own.

"I suppose I shall find a room in some village until my add is answered. Then, of course, I stay with my employer."

"In some small cold room where you will catch your death of cold." He peered intently down at him but she refused to meet his gaze.

"I have no other option. I cannot go home. I cannot marry Mr. Collins. Will not!" she added to enforce the matter. "The only other choice I have is to find employment. The only employment I am suited to is governess." She looked out at the sea as she spoke these words, and felt her hands in his like hot coals.

"That is not your only option Elizabeth. Do you not know that?" Asked Darcy, forcing her to face him. She had tears glistening in the corners of her fine eyes and Darcy, brushed them away, wishing he could do so with his lips.

"I am not sure if there is another option. I do not dare hope for another one. The hope, the feeling, is so new in me, so new to me, that I know not what to do with it."

"May I show you what to do with it Elizabeth? Will you let me show you?" His face crept closer to hers. Yet, even inches from her mouth, he halted, waiting for an answer. The pirate in him pushed him to dip down and take what he wanted, but the gentleman was adamant. He would wait for her consent.

"Please do. For I fear I am lost and need a guide."

"Gladly my lady." And with those words, he leaned in brushed her soft lips with his own. They stayed in this embrace for quite some time as Darcy led Elizabeth on a trip of rather startling and life changing revelations. She pulled her hands from his hands and ran them through the hair at the nape of his neck and he mimicked her action.

A whistle from behind them pulled them apart. The looked behind them to see a crew member smiling broadly, happy to see the physical love of the "married" couple. He chuckled as he went about his business and left Elizabeth and Darcy once again alone on the deck.

"Are you still lost?" choked Darcy.

"So that I fear I shall never find my way out!" she replied. "But, as long as you are my guide… then I shall brave it."

He had no choice but to kiss her again. She had no desire to turn him away.