Page 30 of Fitzwilliam Darcy Undone
At that, he laughed out loud, his laughter deep and rich. It poured through her blood like a fast-moving river, making her body heat and ache as never before. What was this man doing to her? Mayhap he was the one who hired a gypsy. No - she shook her head. Somehow, she’d managed to transport herself into his bedchamber and she was the only one who could get herself home. All she needed was some peace and quiet so she could concentrate. The heat from the palm of his hand on her forearm broke her out of her thoughts.
“Miss Elizabeth. Even if you did manage to leave my room unseen, you still have to negotiate your way past numerous servants and once outside find a conveyance to take you to Meryton. I’m afraid you are stuck here with me for the interim.”
She went to push him off her arm and just as quick, drew back her hand as if bitten. Sharp pain burned across her wrist and before she could think, do, or say anything Mr. Darcy had caught her hand in his and stared down at a shimmering scroll etched on the inside of her wrist. The script, though elegant, was not known to her.
“You are Miatharan!”
“No.” Her reply was instinctive, protecting her father’s secret. She raised her gaze to Mr. Darcy and realized he still held onto her hand and on his wrist the same etching had been burned into the skin although his script held some differences.
“That’s an impossibility.”
“Are you sure?”
“No,” he sighed out. “There are stories told, where in rare cases a Miatharan will bond with a human. Most of it is folklore and not backed up by actual facts and historical records.”
“All fairy tales have some origin in truth.”
“Aye.”
“You know what this is?” she finally asked.
He glanced at her wrist and then back at his own.
“Our magical names are etched into our skin.”
“It doesn’t look like Darcy to me.” She peered down at her wrist.
“That is because it is my Miatharan name.”
“What does mine say?”
He looked at it and a frown creased his brow. “It’s not Miatharan. The script is similar, yet different to my native tongue. Regardless, you must be magical and of noble blood.”
She decided to share with Darcy part of her family history as there was now nothing to hide. He knew she was Miatharan, although what the marking on their wrists had to with that remained a mystery. Unless all Miatharans when touched were gifted with a mark. She stifled a laugh. She wouldn’t want to meet many more. Her arms were not as long and lanky as Mr. Darcy’s, so her list of Miatharans would need to be very short indeed.
“And what makes you laugh, Elizabeth.”
“I’ve not given you leave to call me by my given name.” She pulled her hand from his. Good heavens. How many more times was she going to have to say that? Patiently, he held her gaze and waited for an answer. “I was thinking I didn’t want to meet many more Miatharans if a brand accompanied the introduction.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his handsome face. She gave a start. He truly was handsome, and well built, with a good head of hair. Not like her cousin. If she had to marry, Mr. Darcy definitely had an advantage over Mr. Collins. She leaned in and sniffed. And he smelled good, too.
“Miss Elizabeth, did you just sniff me?”
“No.”
That pesky eyebrow raised again.
“Very well, yes.”
Hmmmm... was all he said. As though remembering his manners, he indicated with a wave of his unscathed hand for her to take a seat by the fireplace. The situation had gone past bizarre and she was almost afraid of what might come next. Maybe a Puck like faerie who’d appear and reverse all the chaos he’d created. She sat and settled her skirts around her. There would be no reversing this sequence of events. Only marching forward one minute at a time. Gingerly, she rested her wrist on her lap.
“Would you like a salve for your wrist, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Can’t you wave a magic wand, or your hand and magically make it disappear.
“It does not work that way.” He smiled. “Somethings aren’t fixed by magic as they are magic themselves. This calls for good old salve made by human hands.”
“You would have to summon a servant for that Mr. Darcy and I think we both agree to keep this... incident from becoming public.”
