Elizabeth buried her nose into King's fluffy black and white fur. Odd as it seemed, she just loved the smell of her dog, even when he came in from the herd stinking of sheep. Today as she sat in the barn and brushed the mats out of his coat, she thought of how much she had missed his ever-cheery disposition while she was in San Francisco. Looking up, she saw Jane smiling at her affectionately from the doorway, and with some embarrassment withdrew her face from the dog's pelt.

"So, Lizzy, I think that went rather well."

Snorting her disagreement, Elizabeth replied, "Dear Jane! How can you say such a thing? Papa practically laughed me out of the room, Mama accused me of trying to find something wrong with yet another eligible bachelor, and Kitty and Lydia think I'm just jealous because he'd been spending time with them while I was away."

"Yet you have to see their side. Mr. Wickham has made himself so very agreeable to the entire family, and that's quite a claim you made against him. It's no wonder they all find it hard to believe he could be such a...a villain. Is it possible," she continued gently, "that Mr. Darcy, or his interpretation of the events in question, could be mistaken? After all, we know the two men have reason to dislike each other."

"No, I'm sure of it." Elizabeth could not reveal that Mr. Darcy's sister had been the particular victim of Wickham's treachery, and her warnings to her family had been necessarily couched in terms of information that Mr. Darcy had obtained 'from a most reliable source.' It was frustrating enough that the rest of the Bennets didn't believe her, but to have Jane doubting her was too much. "Jane, I realize that there is no love for Mr. Darcy among the members of our family, but I have good reason to believe what he tells me. Mr. Wickham is a scoundrel who uses his charm against unsuspecting females. He runs an infamous brothel and has on at least one occasion held a young woman against her will. I wish Papa had accepted my warning. It just won't do to let Mr. Wickham continue his connection with our family!"

Impressed by Elizabeth's passionate response, Jane nodded gravely. But there was something that was still troubling her. "Lizzy, why the change of heart about Mr. Darcy? I mean, you've never thought very highly of him; why give credence to anything he says?"

Elizabeth pressed her face against King's body again so Jane could not see the warmth rising in her cheeks. "I had occasion to see a lot of him in San Francisco," she said, her voice muffled by the dog's fur, "and I would have to say that he...improves on acquaintance."

Jane was not so easily satisfied. "What do you mean?"

Her sister's response was lost in the dog's coat, so Jane persisted. "I asked, Lizzy: what do you mean?"

"I mean," an exasperated Elizabeth replied, looking her sister straight in the eye, pink cheeks and all, "oh, for heaven's sake! The man is in love with me, and asked me to marry him."

"No!"

"Yes." Without meaning to, she sighed.

"Well?" Jane waited, but an explanation was not forthcoming. This was very unlike her sister. "Come on, Lizzy, what did you say?"

"I said 'no,' of course."

"Oh!" After a long wait, seeing that Elizabeth was unwilling to provide further details, Jane said only, "How dreadful for Mr. Darcy, to be refused like that! I suppose he took it badly?"

Elizabeth grimaced. "You could say that."

"Tsk. Yet somehow you have a new respect for him?"

"I do. He wrote me a letter, explained some things...it all made perfect sense." She smacked her hand against her forehead. "Oh, Jane, I have wronged him in so many ways, and he didn't deserve any of it. I'm so ashamed!"

"He's a good man, Lizzy," Jane said, stroking a comforting hand on her sister's hair. "Charles says so, and I believe him. I'm sure he'll forgive you."

"I'm not so sure of that. Words were exchanged and... Oh, I'd like to apologize, but I'm hardly likely to see him again."

Jane looked down at her feet, a shy smile spread over her face. "I don't know about that. There's always the possibility that Charles and I..."

Elizabeth's head snapped up. "Jane...have you heard from Charles?"

Nodding happily, Jane said, "I did. He finally wrote. Oh, Lizzy, he's coming back next week! And he says he wants to talk about the future! Isn't that wonderful?"

Elizabeth smiled, though inwardly she was a bit nervous. Charles Bingley's future had been precisely what had separated the two to begin with. Still, Charles seemed to be a strong man with his own ideas, and she doubted that Will Darcy would attempt to stand in his way again.

Charles did return the following week, and to the delight of everyone in the Bennet household, set about to court Jane in the most proper fashion. Throughout the next two months, he was a frequent visitor to the ranch house, and in return the entire family was often invited to dine at his home. Caroline, however, remained conspicuously absent.

When asked about his sister, Charles would only shrug and say, "There seems to be something keeping her in San Francisco."

Or someone, Elizabeth thought, a little sadly. She recalled thinking once that Darcy and Caroline deserved each other, but she had long since changed her mind. Now that she knew better of him - and every story Charles told of his friend added to this improved estimation - she was reluctant to envisage Will marrying a superficial shrew like Caroline Bingley. Yet as the weeks went by and Caroline stayed in California, signs seemed to point more and more to an alliance between the two. After all, Darcy's own aunt seemed to favor the match, and perhaps after Elizabeth's brutal refusal he had decided to turn his attentions to someone more amenable. The idea did not sit well with her. In quiet moments she would replay their last conversation and its aftermath, dwelling particularly on their shared ardor and its cruel conclusion.

Of George Wickham they now saw very little. Although he was still in Gold Hill, it appeared to Elizabeth that Charles had, in his own diplomatic way, warned Wickham away from the Bennet girls; Bingley respected Darcy's word above anyone else's, and he had no trouble accepting his friend's caveats. Although Kitty and Lydia persisted in inviting Wickham to the house, he always politely declined. Elizabeth was relieved. It would have been awkward, if not downright unpleasant, to have to make lighthearted conversation with the man, knowing what she now knew of his true character. From time to time Elizabeth would spot him in town, but when they made eye contact, there was nothing from him but an easy smile and a tip of his hat, without any attempt to approach. Without mentioning Darcy's sister, Elizabeth also shared what she knew with her friend Charlotte, and although Mayor Lucas declined to exercise his authority and ask Mr. Wickham to leave town, from then on he kept a wary eye on the man during the duration of his stay.

The arrival of lambing time promised to keep Elizabeth too busy to mope over her mistakes, but this year Joe Denny's able help left her with more time on her hands than she would have liked. But it was a successful season, and the entire family breathed a sigh of relief that perhaps the worst of their financial troubles were over. And there was even more good news.

By the end of the school's winter term in April, Jane and Charles announced to the family that they were engaged and planned to marry after the conclusion of the summer term in August. They would then have several months to find a new schoolmarm, since it was considered inappropriate for a married woman to continue teaching.

The whole town was in a celebratory mood, and Charles threw his fiancée an engagement party the likes of which Gold Hill had never seen. All the ladies of Gold Hill the town sparkled in their finery, but only Jane truly shined, in a simple but elegant new gown and a smile that only grew brighter as the evening wore on. There was still no sign of Caroline. Elizabeth had been hopeful that Darcy would be at the party, so that she would at least be able to put her conscience to rest, but he too sent his regrets. He did, however, also send news of a gift for his friend's future wife.

"Lizzy," Jane said excitedly the following day, "Will Darcy has offered me a most generous engagement present. He invites me to come to his ranch, Pemberley, and choose myself a horse from his stables!"

"That is a very generous gift," Elizabeth replied, once again feeling a twinge of guilt for having so misread the man. "From what I've seen, he has an excellent eye for horseflesh."

"And you must come with me."

"Me? Jane, I haven't been invited. And after...well, after the way I behaved towards him, I doubt he wants me anywhere on his property."

"Please, Lizzy, you have to go! I have to go now, before the next school term starts. You know I'm helpless around horses, and Charles can't spare the time right now. Oh, please, Lizzy, for me!" Seeing that her sister was relenting, Jane added the coup de grace: "And besides, Charles says that Will isn't at home anyway. You needn't worry that he'd see you on his land."

"Oh," Elizabeth said, with a combination of relief and disappointment. "Of course, then, Jane, for you."

So within the week the two young ladies were packed up and sent south to Pemberley in Charles's coach, complete with several well-armed men to ensure their safety. After a bumpy, dusty drive, they reached their destination late in the morning the second day, and both gasped at the splendor and breadth of the land that encompassed Pemberley, covered in pines, junipers, sagebrush...and the beautiful Desert Peach newly in bloom with pink blossoms. It took them some time, after passing through the gate, even to reach the ranch house, and when they finally did, the greeting they received there relieved the burden of the trip.

"Welcome, welcome!" a wiry elderly woman sang out, wiping her hands on her apron. The two Bennet ladies took this bundle of energy to be Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, and they soon found themselves spirited into the house as she gave the servants orders for the proper arrangement of their things. The house itself was grand in size, but modest in appointments. As she admired the hewn wood floors, scarred from years of use but clean as a whistle, Elizabeth could find fault neither with the functionality of the building nor with the taste of the person who had furnished it. It was a home suitable for a landowner who valued natural beauty above frills and gewgaws, and she was immediately impressed.

"So you are Miss Jane Bennet," Mrs. Reynolds said, shaking Jane's hand, her blue eyes crinkling with delight. "There could be no mistake. I've heard that you're the beauty of the entire county, and that praise has not been exaggerated."

Jane blushed violently at this, as she had never grown comfortable with open admiration of her own good looks. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

The housekeeper then turned good-naturedly to Elizabeth and offered her hand. "And this is your lovely sister Elizabeth." There was a pause as Mrs. Reynolds blinked and peered at her second guest a little strangely, and after a while Elizabeth began to grow uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, dear," the elder lady said, "but have we already met?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Elizabeth replied with a confused smile.

Mrs. Reynolds shook her head in bemusement, and patted Elizabeth's hand. "Well, never mind! Perhaps you just remind me of someone. I'm sure you'd both like to freshen up after your trip, so I'll show you to your rooms."

As they headed upstairs, Elizabeth stopped at the sound of a piano being expertly played. Noticing her interest, Mrs. Reynolds said, "That would be Miss Georgiana having her lesson with the piano master. I don't want to interrupt her; there'll be plenty of time to make introductions after your baths."

A hot bath was just the thing Elizabeth and Jane needed after their long, grimy journey. Meeting up in the hallway afterward, considerably refreshed, they remarked to each other on the coziness of their rooms. Despite the simplicity of the architecture and furniture, the bedrooms weren't lacking anything in the way of creature comforts.

Just as the ladies had sat down in the parlor for a light lunch, Georgiana Darcy bounded into the room with a bright smile.

"I heard you come in," she said breathlessly, "but Mr. Prescott wouldn't let me stop playing long enough to say hello." Suddenly realizing how over-anxious she appeared, she cleared her throat, gave a little curtsey to Jane and said quite properly, "How do you do, Miss Bennet."

Jane reached out for her hand, immediately putting her at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Miss Darcy."

It was Elizabeth's turn next, and she said, "It is so kind of you to have us, Miss Darcy."

"And Miss Elizabeth, you..." Georgiana stopped, mid-greeting, and cocked her head to the side. "You look so familiar! Could it be that we've met before?"

"I must have one of those faces!" Elizabeth laughed. "Your Mrs. Reynolds said the very same thing."

"Oh, well, I'm sure I'm mistaken; I don't get out in society very much at all. Now, let's have our lunch, and I'll show you around a little bit."

In fact, Georgiana spent a good part of the unusually warm afternoon showing her guests around the ranch, or at least the parts of it that could be seen on foot. Jane and Elizabeth were enthralled: there was nothing pretentious or artificial; everything they saw was beautiful, harmonious, well-kept. She couldn't imagine anything more interesting, until they came to a large corral in which about twenty horses stood, their tales swishing lazily.

"Here are the horses Will says you're to choose from. I hope you like them."

"Oh, my." Elizabeth stood in awe as the gate was opened for them, then moved with barely controlled excitement among the horses, running her hands over their shining coats, prying open their mouths to peer at their teeth.

Although she immediately eliminated some of them from contention merely by their size, every horse was a stunning specimen, exceptionally healthy and youthful. There wasn't an old nag among them. Elizabeth was impressed anew at the expense Will Darcy was willing to go to for his best friend. His largesse did not injure him in her eyes.

After making the rounds of the horses several times, Elizabeth singled out a palomino mare with a "newly-minted gold" coat that matched the highest standard of the breed.

"That's Juliet," Georgiana said approvingly, "one of Will's favorites. He named her himself. After, you know, the play."

Elizabeth smiled as she stroked the horse. "I never thought of your brother as a romantic."

"Oh, he'd never admit to it, but he is. There's a lot about Will that people don't know." The girl frowned. "I wish he were here right now with us. He's always running off on business somewhere. And now he's in San Francisco with my aunt Catherine."

And Caroline Bingley, Elizabeth thought, her smile fading.

The mare seemed to be docile enough for Jane, though with enough energy to keep up with whatever mount her sister's future husband might be riding. But there was only one way to be sure.

"Could I," Elizabeth asked tentatively, "take her out for a bit?"

"Of course." But as Georgiana gave the order for the ranch hand to saddle the mare, Elizabeth interrupted.

"Not sidesaddle, please, Miss Darcy. I'll be riding astride."

It took mere minutes for Elizabeth to change into her work clothes, and while Jane was secretly embarrassed by such attire, considering it inappropriate while they were guests at the Darcys', she couldn't fault her sister for wanting to get the most out of her ride, and for that Elizabeth needed to wear her Levi's.

"Just keep the stream to your right and follow it down to where it takes a sharp turn," Georgiana instructed. "That should give you a good twenty-minute ride in each direction. Is that enough?"

"Oh, yes." Though Elizabeth suspected it wouldn't be nearly enough for her taste, she was, after all, only a visitor here, and had no desire to overstay her welcome.

Riding Juliet away from the corral and onto the trail Miss Darcy had pointed out, once again Elizabeth gazed in amazement at the variety of the flora at Pemberley, just beginning to show its beauty in the spring. And all this could have been mine! she mused, surprised by the degree of her regret.

After experimenting with trotting, cantering, and galloping, Elizabeth was satisfied that Juliet was indeed the right horse for Jane. Far too soon, they arrived at the bend in the stream. It was a particularly lovely spot, Elizabeth thought, the sagebrush and high grasses creating a picturesque and protected cove. She sighed with contentment, then wiped her brow and scowled up at the sun. Of course she hadn't brought along her hat! And in her pleasure in the ride she had not realized how hot the day had grown, unseasonably hot for April, especially in long sleeves and denim. She dismounted and led Juliet to the stream for a much-needed drink.

As the mare drank her fill, Elizabeth unbuttoned her cuffs and rolled up her sleeves. Then an idea hit her, and she bit her lip impishly. Surely it wouldn't hurt anything if... She examined her surroundings carefully, squinting at the horizon in every direction. Just five minutes, that's all. And I'm sure I haven't even been gone twenty minutes yet.

Elizabeth tied the horse's reins to a low tree and sat down on a large boulder near the stream. With an exaggerated groan, she removed her boots and stockings and wiggled her toes in glee. Giving another quick look around, her hands moved to unfasten the buttons on her jeans.

She had no way of knowing, of course, that she was not alone.

Darcy stared at his aunt in disbelief.

"This is why you dragged me out here?" he asked in annoyance. "Why, your letter would have me believe that you were at Death's door! 'Hurry,' you said, 'there isn't much time.'" He snorted his disgust. "I should have known if the state of affairs were so dire, you would have sent a telegram instead."

"Well, William," Mrs. de Bourgh sniffed. "I still believe that there is some urgency to the situation."

"I beg to differ."

"Nonsense. If you don't act quickly, Caroline might just go and marry someone else."

"Well, then, by all means, let her!" Will snapped out. "As I've told you before, I have no interest in marrying the lady. Had I known what you were up to, Aunt Catherine, I would have never have come."

The old lady's voice became placating. "Come now, nephew, be generous. Caroline and I have seen so little of you in the past couple of months. After you left for Nevada, you were off to Philadelphia, then Chicago."

"Yes, I've been away on business, and that is exactly why I'm so angry that you called me out here now. I fully intended to spend Easter with Georgiana at home, at Pemberley."

"You have a home here in San Francisco, dear," Mrs. de Bourgh said, waving away his objections. "Just bring Georgiana with you next time. It would do her good to get out of that backwater and into society. Spending some time with Caroline will be an education for her."

Yes, I have no doubt that Caroline Bingley could teach Georgiana a few things, none of which I care for her to learn! "She prefers Nevada."

"Then you should exercise your authority and insist that she come out here. I know that Caroline is just dying to see her."

"Then Caroline can just come visit us at Pemberley. I would be happy to extend her an invitation." Darcy continued firmly, "Aunt Catherine, now that I'm in California, I will spend Easter and the remainder of the week with you, but I'm heading back home immediately after."

Intending to be as good as his word, Darcy did spend Easter Sunday with his aunt, and, to his great consternation, Caroline Bingley. The fawning he had endured from her previously was nothing compared to her behavior toward him now; all the self-sufficiency which had been her personality's one redeeming feature had faded under months of his aunt's influence and her instructions on how to be the perfect Darcy wife. It would have been amusing had it not been so irritating. Every moment in the woman's presence reminded him of how superior Elizabeth Bennet was in every way (save - he admitted - her wardrobe): her strength both of body and mind, her wit, her dignity, her deep affection for her family, her complete lack of artifice. In contrast, behind Caroline's pretty face he saw nothing but ambition.

Busying himself with other engagements on Monday, Darcy managed to avoid both his Aunt Catherine and the woman she was attempting to foist upon him. On Tuesday he instructed the servants that he would accept no visitors, even his relations, no matter how loudly they might protest. While he was sitting alone, considering the best way to settle this argument with his aunt once and for all without forever earning the enmity of his best friend's sister, there was a knock at his study door, and Will called for his butler to enter.

"Telegram for you, sir," the servant said, presenting a tray.

Darcy stared at the piece of paper, his eyes flicking down to the bottom for the name of the sender, and his heart grew cold. Mrs. Reynolds! If something has happened to Georgiana while Aunt Catherine had me wasting my time here in San Francisco...

But then he read:

All is well STOP Wished to inform you that Misses Bennet will be arriving Thurs Apr 25 to select horse STOP Will depart Mon Apr 29 STOP Georgiana sends love STOP C Reynolds

Misses Bennet! The breath caught in his throat. It could, of course, simply be a typographical error from the Western Union office. Or... Was it truly possible that Miss Jane was planning on bringing a sister with her to Pemberley? Jumping up from his chair, he began to pace the room excitedly. Jane Bennet was far too sensible to take those ridiculous girls Kitty and Lydia on such an excursion; if she needed help with a horse, then surely she would bring Elizabeth!

Will stopped in his tracks and did some quick calculations in his head. If he caught the train to Reno the following afternoon...stayed on the train south to Columbus rather than getting off in Virginia City...picked up a horse from there... Why, he could be at Pemberley by late in the morning of the 25th, perhaps even before Elizabeth arrived. Smacking his fist into his palm, Darcy let out an uncharacteristic whoop! that had his valet poking his head worriedly into the room. The servant's timely appearance gave Darcy an opportunity to set his plan in motion.

To be sure, during the long train ride that would take him back to Nevada, Will had plenty of time to worry that he could be mistaken: mistaken that Elizabeth had even read his letter; mistaken that the letter, even if she had read it, had improved her opinion of him to the point that she would want to see him; mistaken that it was, in fact, Elizabeth traveling with Miss Jane.

But he hadn't built his fortune by worrying. All his moves, even the riskiest ones, were built on some kind of solid foundation. And he was confident that this was no exception.

Despite his careful planning, however, Darcy did not reach Pemberley by the morning of the 25th. He had found that procuring a horse of sufficient quality near the Columbus station to be more difficult that he had expected. Nevertheless, he did reach the boundaries of the ranch by early afternoon, and entered through an infrequently used trail at the far end. He was filthy from the road, bone-tired from the journey, overheated from the unusual warmth of the day, and discouraged to think Elizabeth might see him in this state before he had had an opportunity to clean up.

So when he spotted the familiar turn in the stream, he rejoiced. Years ago, he and George Wickham used to find this a particularly enticing spot: part swimming hole, part terra incognita to explore. They used to play at being Indians here, hiding from each other among the tall grasses, plotting ambushes from around the bend, wrestling in the water, whiling away the hot summer days the way only young boys know how.

After both he and his horse had enjoyed a long, cold drink, Will tied his mount to a scrubby pine. Then, in rapid succession, he tossed off his hat, untied the sweat-dampened bandanna from around his neck, dropped his holster, peeled off his shirt, removed his boots and socks, shucked off his trousers and drawers, and without hesitation, plunged into the brook.

The icy mountain water was a shock to his body, at first. But as he grew accustomed to it, he reveled in it as he had as a boy. Taking a big gulp of air, he submerged himself and swam along the rocky bottom. As he surfaced slightly downstream, his reverie was shattered when he heard a noise that could only have issued from a female throat, from just around the turn in the stream. Dear Lord, Georgiana! She can't see me like this! He quickly pulled himself near the sharp bend in the brook, keeping his head low in the water, and peered out from beneath an overgrown tuft of grass.

Not Georgiana, but Elizabeth! And she was standing barefoot on the shore, undoing the button fly on her Levi's.

Will's eyebrows shot up as he realized what she was up to. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. She's here after all! She believed me!...I shouldn't be spying on her like a naughty schoolboy - or like that fool Crabtree! It's just not right...What does she think she's doing, in broad daylight? Well, same as me, after all - why is that so surprising on such a hot day?...If I were really a gentleman, I would turn my head, go back to my clothes, leave her, give her some privacy...

But he couldn't leave, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. Instead he watched in rapt fascination as Elizabeth wriggled out of her jeans, then some cotton drawers. She should have silk! Her strong but shapely legs lay bare to his gaze, yet the tails of her shirt covered her like a short dress, teasingly hiding away something far more precious.

His eyes were immediately drawn to her nimble fingers at their next task, unbuttoning her shirt. Mildly disappointed when she turned out to be wearing something beneath, he realized that the corner of lace he had once been privileged to glimpse appeared to be part of an old, outgrown, little-girl boneless corset, a seemingly curious choice for a well-developed young woman. But once she had discarded her shirt and unfastened the undergarment, its purpose became clear, as her breasts were now freed of the binding material. She took a deep breath and sighed in relief, and silently, he sighed too, at the tempting display now before him: Elizabeth, her clothes scattered about her, stretching her naked body in now-unconstrained pleasure. He let himself enjoy every inch of this splendid sight, from her sensually defined muscles to the rounded bounty of her breasts to the mass of dark brown curls that crowned the juncture of her thighs. The cold water may have slowed his growing ardor, but it did not completely thwart it.

A moment later, she jumped in with a splash, followed by a shriek of both delight and dismay at the chill of the water. Darcy watched guiltily for another few minutes as she frolicked happily and noisily in the water. It was his intent to make a soundless exit, but just then a shift of the wind brought the scent of the mare to Darcy's horse, which whinnied its interest.

Elizabeth stiffened. "What's that?" she called, looking about her in alarm. "Who's there?"

If she had felt threatened when he had accosted her on the street in Gold Hill, fully dressed and fully armed, Darcy could imagine how vulnerable she must feel now. Unwilling to leave her in such a panicked state, Will decided it was best to reveal his presence, as gently as he could.

"Easy, Miss Elizabeth," he said, allowing his voice to precede him as he swam toward her, carefully keeping most of his body submerged. "It's just me."

"Mr. Darcy!" she exclaimed, her arms clutched modestly (if marvelously ineffectually!) over her body. "What are you doing here?"

"I might remind you that I own the place," he said cheerfully, his spirits - and his passion - high.

"I know that!" she replied, rolling her eyes. "But I thought you were in San Francisco."

"I had been, until I heard that you and Miss Jane were coming. What kind of host would I be if I didn't greet my guests?"

Her voice took on an edge. "Well, you could at least have greeted us properly at the house!"

"You're absolutely right," Darcy said, his face falling. So he had misjudged her change of feelings. "I'm sorry. I should go," he added tersely. "I'll see you back at the house." He turned, reluctantly, and began to make his way back to the bend in the stream where his clothes lay.

"No, wait! Mr. Darcy!" She seemed to come to a decision. "Will!"

He was stopped short by her first mention of his given name, and turned back to her. Having apparently decided it was a hopeless case, she no longer sought to cover herself but stood and faced him frankly.

"No, Will, I'm the one who's sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything. For trusting Mr. Wickham over you. For saying all those horrible, insulting things." Her voice grew quieter. "For the way I treated you when we last met in San Francisco." Now it was almost a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

"There's no need to apologize, Elizabeth," Will replied gently. "What did you say to me that I didn't deserve? I've never given you any reason to trust me. I was arrogant and insensitive; I insulted your family; my proposal was offensive. I hope you'll forgive me."

Her shy smile was everything he could have wished for, and he dared hope that it constituted an invitation of sorts. Tentatively, he leaned down and - so as not to frighten her, for he was all too aware that they were both stark naked - withheld his body and just barely touched his lips to hers. It was a kiss as light and tender as a hummingbird's sip from a desert flower, and for the moment it sufficed. But just for the moment.

With a muffled moan, Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself entirely against him, her mouth seeking his hungrily, all of her reserve gone the way of her modesty. Will's momentary astonishment at her boldness was easily overtaken by his joy. From the first contact of her bare body, she completely eradicated whatever composure he had been trying to maintain, and he kissed her ferociously back, his arms twisting around her, his tongue dancing against hers.

His hands roved freely, madly, across her supple, wet skin, as he fulfilled his longtime desire to explore all of her curves and valleys and peaks. He was not disappointed. Judging by her sighs and groans, she too, appeared satisfied with the terrain she was discovering, fingers sliding impatiently over his well-muscled torso. Or perhaps she was simply reacting to the particularly sensitive spot his lips had just located at the base of her throat.

Still unsatisfied despite this feast, Darcy grasped her tightly and lifted her up out of the water, slaking his thirst on the rivulets that ran down her breasts, sipping off peaks hardened by the cold and her ardor. In mindless response, she wrapped her legs around his hips, and his few coherent thoughts now had but one focus: finding a place nearby where he could lay her down, to consummate their love. The soft grass would be their mattress, the sky their canopy. He would blanket her skin first with kisses and then with his own body. So obsessed was he with this idea that he at first did not understand why she had pulled away from him, until he, too, heard the voice calling out in the distance, "Miss Elizabeth!"

"Who's that?" she whispered anxiously into his ear.

The voice rang out again. "Miss Elizabeth! Where are you?"

"That," Darcy said, with a frustrated sigh, "is my foreman, Parker. No doubt Georgiana sent him out looking for you. From the sound of his voice, I'd say you have about five minutes, tops, before he finds us here." Giving her a kiss on her forehead, he unwillingly released her. "You'd better get going."

"All right." But before Elizabeth made a move to leave, she seized Will by his damp hair and yanked him to her, kissing him violently on the lips. Releasing him with a wicked smile, she turned and clambered onto the bank of the stream.

And that's when he saw it.

The other birthmark! Darcy grinned broadly, finally knowing for a fact that Horace Crabtree had never laid eyes - or anything else - on his beloved's unclothed form. For there, high on Elizabeth's lovely round left buttock, was a mark, pink and pretty, in the perfect shape of a heart. No one seeing such an unusual natural mark would have been able to resist including it in a painting! He imagined pressing his lips against it, outlining it with his tongue, but that would, alas, have to wait for another day.

The spot, however charming, did not engage him for long, though, since he was soon distracted by how Elizabeth was hurriedly drying herself with her old camisole. Will would not have thought he could be jealous of a worn piece of cotton, but as the cloth moved intimately up her legs, around her breasts and between her thighs, he held his breath in admiration and lust. So when she spoke, it barely registered.

"There's just one more thing, Will."

Difficult as it was, he forced himself to form a reply. "And that is?"

"Why is it that your sister and Mrs. Reynolds think they know me?" A thought occurred to her, and she looked horrified. "Will, they haven't seen that painting, have they? Oh, tell me they haven't!"

Darcy smiled. It was nice to know he could put her mind at ease so simply. "No, they haven't. But it's not surprising that they recognized you: there's a likeness of you in almost every room in the house." At her baffled look, he explained, "The odalisque Horace painted was not the only artwork you appeared in. He had a collection of charcoal drawings, watercolors and oils in which you were featured, sometimes prominently, sometimes just in the background - always decently clothed, by the way. I bought the lot of 'em. Horace is very talented, Elizabeth, and I persuaded myself that I was making an investment in fine art. The reality, of course, is that I couldn't bear to share you with anyone else."

Smiling in relief, Elizabeth mounted her horse. Just before she rode off, she paused and, looking back at Will, gave a wink and blew him a kiss. He watched until she was out of sight, and with a yell threw himself down into the water with as big a splash as he could produce, the way he used to do in competition with George. Then he immediately swam back to where his clothes lay. He wouldn't waste another valuable minute while Elizabeth was so close. And their time together at Pemberley would indeed be precious, for as it happened there would be little of it.

"There you are, Miss Elizabeth!" said Parker, his weathered face relaxing in relief. He was a sturdy man of about fifty, his salt-and-pepper hair just beginning to thin. "Miss Georgiana was mighty worried about you!"

Once Darcy's foreman was in sight, Elizabeth kept her pace on Juliet to a moderate walk. Not only did she need the extra time to compose herself, but she also no longer had the supportive benefits of her sodden camisole, which now was wedged under the cantle* of the saddle.

She smiled as dispassionately as she could. "Sorry to have caused any concern, Mr. Parker. I just stopped to cool us down at the stream. I'm sure my sister Jane could have reassured Miss Georgiana that I can take care of myself."

"Well, so she said, Miss. But while Mr. Darcy's away, I'm responsible for everything that happens on the ranch, and that includes lookin' after the womenfolk. I couldn't forgive myself if some varmint had gotten to you."

Some varmint, indeed, laughed Elizabeth silently, willing herself not to blush. She pondered whether she should inform Parker that his employer was, in fact, back at Pemberley, but decided against it. There would be too many questions about how she happened to come by that knowledge. So instead she said, "Well, you find me safe and sound, Mr. Parker. And very impressed with everything I've seen here. You certainly have been doing a wonderful job."

She had said precisely the right thing. His chest swelling with pride, Parker smiled. "I've been the foreman 'bout a dozen years, Miss." Ah, she thought, he must have taken over after Mr. Wickham's father died. "I'd like to think I've had a lot to do with keeping Pemberley running as smooth as it did in old Mr. Darcy's day, Lord rest his soul."

"I'm sure you do."

They rode on companionably for the next fifteen minutes, until they arrived back at the ranch house, where Georgiana stood pacing nervously on the porch while Jane sat unconcerned in a rocking chair, enjoying the fine weather.

"Miss Elizabeth! Thank heavens you're all right," cried Georgiana.

"She'd just been refreshing herself and Juliet a bit at the stream, is all," Parker said, stroking the horse as Elizabeth dismounted. Discreetly grabbing her undergarment from the saddle, she crumpled it into her fist. The foreman took Juliet's reins and, with a tip of his hat, walked the horses off back to the stable.

"Did you have a good ride, Lizzy?" Jane asked mildly, her eyebrows just slightly raised at the wet cloth in her sister's hand and the damp tendrils of her hair where they had escaped her coiffure.

"Oh, it was lovely," Elizabeth said, careful not to enthuse too much, lest she begin to recall in too great a detail the reason for her pleasure. "Juliet is the perfect horse for you, Jane, I'm satisfied." Turning to their hostess, she continued, "If you'll excuse me, Miss Georgiana, I'd like to go get out of my riding gear." She was anxious to change into something more presentable before Will arrived, though with a giddy thrill she understood that he hardly cared what, if anything, she was wearing.

Graciously, the girl nodded. "Of course."

By the time Elizabeth had dressed, she heard a ruckus coming from downstairs. Curious, she hastened to join the others, and saw Georgiana wrapped up in her brother's arms. Spying Elizabeth, the girl wriggled out of Darcy's embrace and dragged him over to her guest.

"Miss Elizabeth, look who's here! It's Will! He came back early from San Francisco!"

Elizabeth arranged her face into what she hoped was an indifferent yet pleasant smile. "How very nice to see you again, Mr. Darcy."

"I found out that my aunt didn't really need me after all," he said with a dimpled grin, as Elizabeth felt the heat rise in her cheeks, "and there's no place I'd rather be than right here."

"Lucky you came home while Miss Jane and Miss Elizabeth were visiting," chirped Georgiana, with eyes only for her brother.

His eyes, however, were only for another lady. "Yes, very lucky."

Jane observed with interest the way Darcy and her sister gazed at each other, and the blush that pinkened Lizzy's face before she abruptly turned away. Then, with some surprise, Jane took in their host's wet hair, and, like any schoolmarm worth her salt, ably put two and two together. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

For the remainder of the day Elizabeth fought hard just to maintain her equanimity and keep from coloring whenever Will glanced her way. His every gaze filled her with memories of what had recently passed between them, and she didn't trust herself to remain unaffected while in company. To distract herself, she searched out Horace's artwork in each new room she was shown. Every time, she easily recognized herself in yet another painting or drawing. While it still disturbed her to have been the object of such particular attention, she had to admire Horace's craft. The man was gifted. Yet her presence in these works was most often very subtle, and she could understand why Miss Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds could not quite put their fingers on why she seemed so familiar.

After a simple but hearty dinner, they were treated to Georgiana's excellent performance on the piano. Will stretched out his legs and sighed in contentment. He was home, his sister was playing magnificently, and, most important, not ten feet away from him sat Elizabeth, her eyes closed, absorbed in the music. It was a picture of domestic bliss he had given up ever hoping to experience.

Elizabeth's thoughts were not, however, so tranquil. While she had returned time and time again to their tryst in the stream, always with delight, now a new, disagreeable thought had intruded, poisoning the clean, cold water. Certainly, Will wanted her; he had made that abundantly clear. Perhaps, despite the way she had treated him, he even still held some affection for her. But he had made no declarations of love, not one. Nor had he reiterated his desire to marry her. He had said only that he hadn't wanted to share her with anyone. Well, he could say the same thing about a prized horse! Elizabeth was unaccustomed to self-doubt and usually found it abhorrent and pathetic, a weakness she had no use for, but now, once she had begun, she couldn't stop.

With these doubts arrived regret, regret that she had been so free with her physical affections. Why, he must think her the worst kind of hussy, an easy woman trolling for carnal pleasures! She could not believe that she had behaved so wantonly, and her embarrassment added to her discomfiture. By the time the hour had arrived to retire, Elizabeth had, most irrationally, persuaded herself that Will was toying with her, that he wanted to lay with her but had no intention of marrying her, that he would instead ultimately marry Miss Bingley, with whom he had apparently spent an unusual amount of time in San Francisco after she had rejected him.

The idea terrified her, as it came on the heels of a sudden realization: she was in love with Will Darcy. At what should be the most exhilarating moment in her life, she was paralyzed with fear. It was an unfamiliar sensation, against which she could not arm herself, against which all her wit and bravado and even her trusty Colt were useless. She could hardly look at him, sitting there, so smug and satisfied. Preoccupied and miserable, she pleaded exhaustion, bid a hasty goodnight to the Darcys and her sister, and, blind to their looks of surprise and concern, rushed out of the parlor, intent on going straight to her room.

About an hour later, having passed her time lying awake in full self-pity, Elizabeth heard a scratching at her door. This she had expected: it would be Will, no doubt eager to resume where they had left off at the stream. Well, she'd have none of it! With a frown, she approached the door warily.

"Elizabeth!" she heard Darcy say in a low voice. "May I come in?"

"No!" she retorted petulantly, hating herself, and him. "Go away!"

"What's the matter?"

"You know darn well what the matter is. Now go away!"

There was a brief, puzzled silence. Then the voice came again: "It's going to be awkward tomorrow morning explaining to Mrs. Reynolds why I've spent the night in the hallway, Elizabeth. But I'll do it if you don't let me in."

Elizabeth had no doubt that he meant what he said. But inviting him into her room was out of the question; she knew she would be far too easily swayed by his blandishments and kisses, and she had no intention of winding up in bed with him. The very thought made her uncomfortably warm. So instead she hissed, "I'll meet you in the library in ten minutes."

After a pause, he said, "All right," and she listened to the sound of his boots against the wood floor as he walked away. She then hurried to get dressed.

In the library ten minutes later, Will found Elizabeth examining a tiny charcoal portrait of herself, one she had previously overlooked. Upon hearing him arrive, she sat down in the nearest chair and folded her hands in her lap. Will took the chair opposite hers, and for a moment he just peered at her curiously. Then he leaned forward in his chair and said gently:

"Tell me what's wrong, Elizabeth. Is it Pemberley? Don't you like it here?"

"Of course I do." Refusing to return his gaze, she instead examined her fingers, which were now twisted together nervously on her lap, and added with no little irritation, "Who wouldn't?"

"Well, you had me a little worried. It is my home, after all, and not everyone appreciates its singular beauty. I had hoped that we'd be spending most of our time here."

"We? What time?"

"I see." Will looked chagrined and stood up. "I'm sorry; it seems I've gotten ahead of myself again. I thought that...well, never mind."

He walked the room bemusedly, unable to figure out what had precipitated this radical change in her demeanor. As a last resort, he returned to kneel by her chair and said, his voice filled with tenderness, "Elizabeth, I want you to know that... what I said to you in San Francisco still applies. All of it." He cleared his throat slightly. "Except maybe that unfortunate part about your family."

Her head snapped up, and he could see that her eyes were glazed with tears. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I love you." His hand reached up to touch her face, and the tears spilled over. "I've never stopped loving you. And I still want to marry you. Desperately. I won't be happy without you, not here at Pemberley, not anywhere. I hope someday you'll be able to get past whatever it is that's still bothering you and tell me that you'll marry me."

"What about Miss Bingley?" she said in a small voice.

"What about her?"

"I thought that you and she were..." She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"Is that what this is about?" He laughed with relief. "Caroline Bingley?"

"Maybe."

"Elizabeth, as much as my aunt Catherine would like to think otherwise, there's never been anything between Caroline and me."

"You've spent months in San Francisco with her!"

"I don't know what Caroline's been up to - probably seeing a lot of Aunt Catherine - but I've barely been in San Francisco. I left California shortly after you did, and I've taking care of business all over the country the past few months. In between I would spend as much time as I could at Pemberley. I hadn't even seen the lady at all until just last week." Taking a chance, he leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Elizabeth's lips. He was rewarded with a smile. "Admittedly, had I been a better correspondent with Charles, he would have been able to let you know where I was all that time. Then again, he hardly would have had any reason to mention it to you, would he? I never told him how I feel about you. But whatever it is that Caroline's been telling her brother, I can promise you that it's made of whole cloth. I never gave her any reason to think I was interested in her."

A long sigh escaped Elizabeth, and she slid her arms across Will's shoulders and tightened them around his neck. "In that case," she whispered into his ear, causing a tremor to travel through him, "my answer is yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I will marry you." She kissed his ear, and added, "and yes, I will live here at Pemberley with you." Impetuously she jumped up and flung herself into Will's arms.

Darcy would have said something, but he found that he preferred to kiss Elizabeth instead. So he did. Repeatedly, and with ever-increasing passion. But as much as his body urged him to take her directly upstairs to his bed, or hers - he was not particular which - his common sense won out, and he decided that their understanding was still too new to risk ruining with an excess of enthusiasm, should it be ill-received.

Yet as happy as he was, there was still one thing nagging at him, and he wouldn't leave her until he resolved it. Finally, Will said, "You know, I'll take your acceptance of my proposal any way I can get it, but... Do you love me, Elizabeth? Maybe a little bit?"

"Of course I do." She giggled. "Can't you tell?"

"Well, I can tell a lot of things based on your reaction, but I'd like to have it from your own lips."

What her own lips said, then did, satisfied him so completely that he was content to let her return to her room alone, though first he had to extract from her a promise to go riding with him the following morning at dawn, when he could show her all the splendor of Pemberley without interruption.

Just as the sun crept over the horizon, Will bounded down the front steps of the ranch house and walked quickly out toward the stable. It was all he could do to keep from running; he was anxious to be out in the stable waiting for Elizabeth so she couldn't imagine that he had, for some inexplicable reason, changed his mind about her. He needn't have worried: when he reached the doorway, he saw her, and it was a vision that made his heart leap. Her back was to him and she was, as he expected, clad in her work clothes. Standing in Juliet's stall grooming the horse with a currycomb, Elizabeth hummed gaily. It was exactly as he had always pictured her when he thought of the happy life they could have together, enjoying the rustic joys of Pemberley. Sensing his presence, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, but turned back to the horse and continued with both her brushing and her humming.

Will walked up behind her and slid his arms around her, pressing himself close. As he kissed her neck, the tune Elizabeth was humming became a wordless, contented purr. Forgetting Juliet, she promptly dropped the curry. Pleased with her reaction, he continued his tender assault on her skin. It hadn't been his intention to start anything in the stable, but now it seemed like a good idea. After all, the hour was early and no one else was about. Playfully, he undid a button of her shirt. When no objection came, he unfastened the next one. Then the next. When his hand encountered her old camisole rather than skin, he undid that as well. Finally unobstructed, his fingers caressed the soft flesh of her breasts, playing and teasing, and the breath caught in her throat.

It troubled him at first when she pulled away, but it soon became clear that she only did so in order to finish the job he had started. Turning to face him, she smiled mischievously and unfastened the remaining buttons on both her shirt and camisole, then tugged the tails out of her jeans. Though being undraped in this way would have been enough for him, she went further, sliding the shirt just off her shoulders, leaving the material draped like a shawl across her back and arms. It was a fetching display, one he had no intention of resisting. With a growl, he grabbed the waistband of her Levis and, giving her a fierce kiss on the lips, undid each of those precious fly buttons one by one as he had long wanted to. It was every bit as exciting as he had imagined. So was the scent, the taste of her skin as he fell to one knee and kissed and nibbled his way across every inch of the bare expanse down to her navel.

"Mr. Darcy?" They heard Parker's voice a short distance from the stable. "You in there? I'm lookin' for Miss Elizabeth. She there with you?"

Smothering a pained groan, Darcy got to his feet and complained, "That man is entirely too efficient." With a laugh, Elizabeth withdrew hastily behind Juliet. "Remind me to fire him," he continued, only half-joking, as Elizabeth hastily buttoned her shirt and jeans.

Parker entered the stable just as Elizabeth, fully dressed and almost completely composed, was retrieving the abandoned curry. Set on his mission, he betrayed no surprise at seeing the boss and his guest alone in such intimate proximity. "'Scuse me, Mr. Darcy, but there's a telegram arrived from the Bennet family addressed to Miss Jane Bennet, and seein' as she's still asleep, I thought Miss Elizabeth might be able take care of it." Handing her the envelope, he touched the brim of his hat and departed.

Elizabeth was mystified. Telegrams were an unnecessary expense to a family of such limited means, and she and Jane would be home in a few days anyway. Unfolding the paper, she quickly read the short message, then read it again. Her jaw dropped, and she paled.

"Elizabeth?" Will asked, concerned. "What is it, darling?"

"We have to go home right away." Confusion plain on her face, she looked up from the telegram. "My sister Lydia has apparently run off with our ranch hand, Denny." She shook her head. "It's so strange. She never said a word about him, and he certainly didn't seem to be her type."

"Denny? Not Joe Denny?"

"Yes," she said, the skin on the back of her neck beginning to prickle. "Why?"

"Talk about the fox guarding the hen house!" Darcy left her side and started to pace agitatedly about the stable, causing the horses to shift nervously in their stalls. "Elizabeth, Joe Denny's in with Wickham, and in deep. Wickham paid Denny's way out of jail in Virginia City, and he's been George's errand boy ever since. He was there in Reno with Wickham when I went to retrieve Georgiana. And near as I can tell, he acts as Wickham's...procurer for the brothel."

He stopped abruptly and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Don't you see, Elizabeth? Your sister is headed for The Lone Wolf!"

* the rear, upward-curving portion of a western-style saddle

To be continued...

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