Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my own characters.


"Well," said a voice with a mischievous tone. "How is dear Marie these days?"

Amanda was seated nine months pregnant on the couch, her legs propped up on the table, and she startled when she heard Wickham's voice in the doorway. "Are you still keeping up that ruse?" she laughed.

"But what a ruse it is!" commented Wickham as he stepped into the room and ambled over to the window. "Life could be boring without these little games I play."

"George!" admonished the pregnant woman as she struggled to sit up further in her seat.

"What would you have happen?" he declared dramatically, turning to face her. "An actual war to see my sorrowful self off to blood and gore? Nay," he implored. "You would tire from my lack of presence. I'm your entertainment in this place."

He paused a moment for effect. "And speaking of entertainment, looks to me like new life is just days away for you."

"I don't know why I keep inviting you around here," Amanda muttered to herself when he finished his random spiel, her body not cooperating as she braced her hands on the couch. "No, wait a minute. I never do."

The soldier declined from assisting as he leant against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow. "Touche."

Amanda gave up and fell back against the couch, breathing heavily after her efforts. Resting her hand on her forehead, she realised that his gaze was on her considerably endowed cleavage as she recovered her breath.

She didn't need to speak as her husband beat her to it when he stepped into the room clad in his riding gear, his authority apparent instantly.

"Darcy," said Wickham as he pushed off the wall, inclining his head with the very merest of civility.

Darcy snapped to attention and nodded stiffly to their unexpected visitor.

Wickham left on a merry jaunt and Fitzwilliam Darcy then trained his intense gaze on his very pregnant wife. "You, my dear, should be resting upstairs."

"Oh phooey," said Amanda, shaking off his concern and reaching up her hand. "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

Despite his misgivings, Darcy took her hand and eased her upwards. He maintained his hold on her as she found her balance and continued talking. "Where I come from, some women give birth in the rice fields and then go straight back to work."

"It's a strange place where you come from," the stoic man concurred as he brushed his hands over the ribbons tying his wife's front and placed his hands where their unborn child resided.

She'd been ready with a reply, but those words went out the window as she suddenly gasped and gripped her husband's lower arms.

Her fearful eyes sought out their counterpart in his.


Next chapter: Amanda.