She smiled ruefully. Why was she so nervous about this dinner? She’d hosted hundreds of such occasions in the past. In fact, she’d performed the duties of hostess for her widower father from a very young age. Royalty, the wealthy and powerful, they’d all sat at her table over the years. And she’d handled herself and those occasions with the easy grace that was as natural to her as breathing.

So, why were tomorrow night’s guests so unnerving her?

Maybe because they belonged to the man of her heart. And that made them the most important people in the world to her. Just a small thing.

She chuckled at herself. Her nerves. Her silliness. And picked up a cut glass goblet. Idly, she watched the sunlight dance across its many-faceted surface. Then, set it back on the table. Too elaborate. The evening called for a simpler design.

So focused was she on the task before her, that she didn’t hear the door open and close behind her. She was reaching out to begin removing the stemware, when a hand came from behind her back, and two wine-red roses tied in matching ribbon, appeared in front of her.

She started in surprise, then smiled broadly and slowly pivoted into Jarrod’s arms.

"Maxwell is growing ‘Devereaux Beauty’ in his conservatory, now?" She stood on her toes to murmur in his ear.

"Just for you, lovely lady," Jarrod whispered, kissing her softly on the lips.

Anne pulled back, and smiled teasingly. "In the heart of February, this man is growing delicate roses . . . just for me. I know he’s a dedicated rosarian, but - - ."

"My Lady," Jarrod smiled broadly, bowing formally, and handing the flowers to Anne with a flourish. "While the man’s conservatory is a veritable jungle of lushness, and a testimony to his talent with tropicals, his top priority will always be a very special corner reserved for his best creation. The ‘Deveraux Beauty.’

She curtseyed, accepting them. "I thank you, sir. With all my heart. And Maxwell, also." She lifted the delicate flowers to her nose. "Mmmmm. The scent of these never ceases to amaze me. So delicate, and sweet. Not overpowering at all, like so many Hybrid Perpetuals. He is a genius."

"An inspired genius, my dear. He had you as a model when he created this hybrid."

"Have I told you how much that meant to me, when you commissioned Maxwell to create a rose just for me?"

"Yes, you have. And I will remind you, again, that it was a very special occasion."

"Our engagement," Anne said, softly. "So long ago, it seems."

"Just a bit more than six years ago. Then again, it could have been just yesterday." Jarrod softly stroked Anne’s face with one finger. "Time means nothing when one loves as we do." He looked deeply into Anne’s eyes, his blue eyes sparkling sapphires as they reflected the expression in her eyes, and mirrored it back to her.

He said, gently, "And like the ‘Devereaux Beauty,’ we also flourish regardless of the world around us."

They stood together for a long moment, immersed in the deep emotion that flowed between them. Then, Jarrod pulled back, with a smile on his face. He gestured towards the Sheraton table. "So, what’s all this? Are you giving a dinner party, this evening?"

Anne smiled slightly, shaking her head. "Oh, I’m being silly about tomorrow. I decided to play with different table settings. You know, searching for just the right tone, and all that."

"It’s lovely."

"No, actually it’s not. Too much, I think. I’ll just start over - - ."

"Anne." Jarrod interrupted her.

"What?" she was staring intently at the table, tightly clasping the roses in one hand, scowling as if facing a mortal enemy for Dark Watch.

"Don’t worry so. They’ll love you." He threw an arm around her shoulders. "Let’s go into the library. We have some things to discuss." He kissed the top of her head, softly. ""We haven’t had much of a chance to talk after our little encounter with Julia, a few days ago. And we need to do just that," he said softly over her head.

As they walked through the hallway, arms around each other’s waists, Jarrod said, "You told me you were all right, I know. But - - ."

"You just wanted to make sure."

"Something like that." He stopped her on the threshold of the library and kissed her.

Anne gave him a reassuring squeeze, then stepped away into the room. "The shipping negotiations have taken up more of your time than you thought they would."

Jarrod sighed. "I’ve had very little time to spend with my family. Or you. I’m sorry, honey. But, the truth is, we’ve spent some very long hours in session. I’m sure your brother told you that we reached an agreement, this morning. Finally, we’re done."

Anne turned and smiled up at him. "Charles told me it was your suggested compromise that sealed the deal. Congratulations. You’ve just ensured this state decades of prosperity. Not to mention the economic benefits it’ll bring to our respective families."

"Couldn’t have sold the deal without your brother’s support."

"You and Charles have always been a good team."

Anne crossed to a mahogany sideboard, and filled a crystal vase with water from a decanter. After placing the roses in the vase, she poured scotch into a leaded glass tumbler. Handing it to Jarrod, she poured herself some sherry, and motioned for them to be seated in front of the fireplace.

Jarrod watched her closely as she settled the cashmere folds of her dark green day dress about her in the armchair. Then, he said, "While I do admire the adroit way you attempted to change the subject, just now, we need to talk about what happened at the warehouse."

"I suppose so. Although, I’d rather go back into the dining room and play with the china." A brilliant smile flashed across her face. "Sorry. Down to business. I spoke with Berthemy, this morning. At his request, by the way."

"Oh? What did he have to say about his brush with death."

"He’s confused about what happened. He was donning his cape to leave the Ball one-minute, and then was hit over the head. Next thing he knew, he was bound, gagged and blindfolded, and surrounded by gun barrels."

"How much of our involvement does he comprehend?"

"Very little. He was hit on the head hard, and says much of what transpired is a blur. Jonathan has talked to him relative to what he does recall, warning him about the need for discretion for the sake of national security and international diplomacy." Anne laughed lightly. "He doesn’t understand what I was doing there. So muddled about it, in fact, that he thought I had been kidnapped, also. I told him as little as I could and still remain polite. Out of respect for his position, and our diplomatic goals."

Jarrod frowned. "What knowledge he has about you could still place you in danger. The more people know your work, the more vulnerable you become."

"And you."

He waved her words away.

Anne went on. "Fact is, Jarrod, we’ve both drawn assignments that expose our dual roles over the years." She shrugged. "That’s a risk we’ve always run. And will continue to. This time, we were lucky. Berthemy won’t be a problem." She paused. "As for Rooney, I spoke with him, yesterday. I assume you and Jonathan have also questioned him."

"Yes."

"He was quite willing to talk to me. Although, he didn’t have much new information for me. I filed a report with Jonathan."

"I read it."

"Frightening when an agent loses his way, like that." Anne gave Jarrod a piercing glance. "With enough stimuli, it could happen to any one of us."

"Losing the one you love can cause anyone to flounder," Jarrod said, quietly.

"I know," she whispered.

Neither spoke for several moments. The only sounds in the quiet room were the ticking of the mantel clock, and the crackle of a roaring fire in the fireplace beneath.

Finally Jarrod continued, "We have enough evidence to lock up Rooney for the rest of his natural life. If Dark Watch decides to let him live."

Anne shook her head. "A former Dark Watch agent is a very rare animal, Jarrod. Very rare. I doubt that Rooney has much to recommend his continued existence. At least in Jonathan’s mind." Then, she looked away. "Bloody waste of a man. A good man, at one time."

"We did gain something valuable from the Berthemy kidnapping, Anne," said Jarrod, quietly.

She looked at him quizzically.

"Information supplied by Julia," he said.

"What does she bring to the table?"

Both Jonathan and Jarrod had agreed that they were more likely to gain her cooperation and learn more from the Confederate agent if Julia was not able to have further contact with Anne. The men had handled the questioning of Miss Saxon.

"She was very forthcoming with information about the Confederate organization she’s been working with."

Anne gave him a searching look. "Anything that relates to our . . . personal project?"

"Yes, in fact. So much so, that the investigation of our fathers’ deaths is about to leave the realm of our private obsession, and become official Dark Watch business."

Surprise registered on Anne’s face. "That’s quite a concession from Jonathan. We’ve been trying to convince him to take that action ever since they died. What changed his mind?"

"Julia gave us details about the West Coast operation of her group. And, new names to check out here in San Francisco. Turns out that this West Coast cell compiled a kill list many months ago. It targets high profile members of Grant’s Administration, as well as prominent private individuals closely associated with the President. That got Jonathan’s attention."

"Our fathers were on the list?"

"No. Rather, they suspected it was being assembled. Actually warned Jonathan about it over a year ago."

"Really?"

"So says Jonathan."

"And he did nothing about it?"

"Claimed they didn’t have proof of the list’s existence. Not enough details to warrant action."

"Bloody hell!" Anne exploded. "You know, they both told him that the Confederate ring operating out here was growing rapidly. And deserved attention from Dark Watch. They began spending a great deal of time together, here, just before Tom died. Looking for evidence that would substantiate their suspicions. Father had even placed an informer in their midst."

"Unfortunately, that man didn’t live long enough to be of much use."

"And neither did they," Anne said, quietly, sorrow in her voice. She paused, before saying ""You always were convinced the ones responsible for killing them were based here on the West Coast."

"Just before he died, my father told me he wanted to talk to me about the ring once the mess with the railroad had been cleaned up. That he’d learned something vital I should know about." Jarrod’s tone was grim as he continued, "Of course, he never had a chance to do that. When Edward returned here after Father’s funeral for an extended stay, I talked to him about Father. He was convinced Father had not been killed by the railroad. That he had a good idea what had happened, but, had no proof, and was launching his own, independent investigation. A few months later, he also died. Under mysterious circumstances. Of course, that could be coincidence .. . ."

"But we know there is no such thing as coincidence in this business," Anne finished for him. "Both men, shot down in the midst of chaos. Yours, during a fire fight between ranchers and railroad men. Mine, during a bungled bank robbery."

"So easy to cover tracks in the midst of that kind of chaos. No, they knew something, Anne. Found out something that was too damaging to allow them to continue living." Jarrod sighed.

"We’ve only scratched the surface of it, haven’t we?" said Anne. "We’ve learned that the West Coast organization is far more sophisticated, widespread, and better funded than first thought. But, little else. Especially relative to our father’s deaths. So many questions. Few answers."

"We haven’t been given time to delve into it," said Jarrod, quietly. "Things will change, now, though. Jonathan is beginning to understand that the truth behind what happened to them, will be an important key into the work of the Confederate Ring operating out here, now."

Their eyes met and locked for a long moment before Jarrod went on in a soft voice. "There’s more. One of the men on that kill list is already dead. An associate of Jay Gould’s."

"Richard Weber?" Anne was startled. "But, he had a heart attack - - ."

"No. Dick was knifed in an alley in a section of New York City he’d never had frequented in a million years."

"Dear God."

"We’re being asked to move on this, Anne. Before we lose anyone else. I’ve been given authority over the work here, on the West Coast. With you and Charles handling protection of high-profile individuals on the East Coast who are potentials for the list. Jonathan will be meeting with us to work out details."

Anne sighed, heavily. "I understand. There’s no rest for the weary, is there?" She smiled, ruefully.

"I know, honey. You wanted a break from all this. You’ve had a lot thrown on your plate, recently, haven’t you?"

Anne stood up, and walked over to the pair of roses, on the sideboard. Idly, she fingered the delicate petals of one blossom as she said, "I’ve been barraged with new information, Jarrod. All of it important, and prompting serious reflection on my part."

Anne picked up the vase, inhaling the sweet perfume of the flowers. "Top of my mind is my encounter with Julia." Then, setting the vase down, once again, she turned to Jarrod. "You know, never in my wildest dreams, did I think that Julia Saxon was responsible for my imprisonment."

"Nor did I."

Anne looked at Jarrod intently. "I knew that once you and Charles had rescued me, you’d launched a manhunt to find the one responsible for betraying me to the Confederates."

He nodded. "We were sure it was someone inside Dark Watch. Our fathers turned the organization upside down. Searching for a traitor. And all the time - - ."

"She was in your bed."

"Yes."

Anne caught his look of distress. She walked over to where he sat, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "It’s all right, you know. I’ve always understood. It . . . it was an insane time back then. War has a way of . . . turning things upside down." She sighed. "Julia never made her hatred for me a secret. She was one jealous woman, and we inflamed that jealousy by exploiting her for Dark Watch."

Jarrod rose from his chair and walked to the mantel. Placing one hand on its smooth, mahogany surface, he stared into the fire.

Anne continued. "Ironic, and perhaps, just, that I fell victim to the very tricks we were ordered to play on her."

Jarrod turned to look at her. "You see it like that?"

"Oh, yes, I do. If we hadn’t manipulated Julia’s emotions where you were concerned, she never would have betrayed me to the Confederates."

"Dirty business, Anne. It was dirty business that led to the unthinkable."

He fell silent, then. Thinking back to that awful day in November 1864. The beginning of one of the most painful periods of his life. When Anne had disappeared. Two days before they were to announce their engagement at a formal dinner party hosted by their fathers at the Devereaux estate in Maryland. Four days before they were to leave for Stockton so that Anne could be introduced to the rest of the Barkley family.

She had been detained at the White House, at a briefing session with President Lincoln. The meeting had run later than expected. Since that was not unusual during the stressful final days of the war, no one had been unduly concerned about Anne. Not until much later that evening, when her carriage was found miles outside of Washington, overturned. Her driver’s body was discovered nearby.

An early season snowfall obscured tracks. Jarrod and Charles never had a chance to follow her.

It was four months later that the men who loved Anne had obtained their first solid lead as to her whereabouts. One of Jarrod’s informers had sighted her at a Confederate prison camp - - the infamous Jamesville Landing, on the outskirts of Lynchburg, Virginia.

Jarrod and Charles had swung into action. They’d prepared a daring rescue plan. Donning Confederate uniforms, and using the services of several well-placed Dark Watch agents, they entered the Camp posing as Southern officers with orders to escort the beautiful female prisoner to Richmond for interrogation. Any weakness in their story was more than strengthened by authentic signatures of highly placed Confederate officials on the orders, themselves. The strategic distribution of gold among prison staff, and a deadly determination to do whatever was necessary to free Anne ensured their success.

All contingencies had been addressed. Save one. Neither man was prepared for the shock of seeing Anne’s condition, once they’d gained entrance to the cabin where she was held.

The heartbreak Jarrod experienced when he first saw her never left him. Even years later, the vision haunted him. They’d found her shackled to a bed, huddled in filthy, ragged blankets. Skeletal, covered with bruises and open wounds, they had thought her dead. After a more careful examination, they’d discovered her shallow breathing.

As Jarrod picked her up, preparing to carry her out of the cabin, he was shocked at how light she was, how fragile. He had handled her as if she was a delicate piece of china.

The men around Anne had learned what had happened to her, of course. Camp personnel had been grilled, interrogated. Forced to divulge every painful detail of her imprisonment. Details of beatings and rape.

Months had passed before Anne recovered from her physical injuries. But, it was the emotional toll the camp had taken that concerned the men the most. Long after she was physically strong, Anne was plagued by wrenching nightmares. During daylight hours, a deadened quiet had descended upon her, and covered her like a shroud. While she responded when spoken to, she rarely initiated conversation. And refused to discuss Jamesville Landing.

She had ordered Jarrod away. Out of her life. Forever, she had said. She was incapable of opening her heart to the love he offered. She needed all her emotional resources for herself, and she wrapped them around her days like a metal shield. Throwing herself into the work at hand, she became an indispensable part of the Devereaux Stables operations.

She worked to exhaust herself, so that at the end of the day, she could barely muster the energy to fall into bed. She worked to deaden thoughts and emotions. She worked to obliterate all traces of her past. All traces. Even those belonging to Jarrod.

The man in question, however, would not exit her life so obligingly. Certain that their love was untouched underneath all her pain and trauma, he fought to win her back.

But for all his faith in their love, his gritted determination to free Anne from her self-imposed prison, Jarrod could not reach her. And, eventually, realized that his unwanted presence was hurting her. It was, in fact, his father, who helped him gain perspective on the painful episode.

"You’re not helping her, son," Tom Barkley had told him in their suite of rooms at the Willard Hotel on a blustery winter’s day in December 1866. "Give her some time to heal." He had stood up from his wing chair by the fire, and had placed a comforting hand on his eldest son’s shoulder. "She’s confused, and hurt. But, she’s a fighter. She won’t stay down for much longer, you’ll see."

Jarrod had stepped away from his father’s comforting touch, afraid that the loving support he felt from the older man would break apart the composure he had meticulously constructed as a defense against his raw emotions.

"She’s so . . . cold. Treats me as if I’m a stranger. I can’t reach her! She’s put up a wall, and I can find a way through it. And yet, even so, I’m sure she still loves me." He flung himself in a chair and rubbed a throbbing forehead with one hand. "I don’t know, maybe I’m a fool, holding on to something that doesn’t exist any longer."

"It does, son. Just, give her time. Don’t press her, now. Look, I’ve kept you busy with as much government work as you can handle here in Washington, so that you could be close to her these past 18 months. But, now, it’s time to go home to Stockton, Jarrod. Launch that law practice of yours. Put some use to all the money your mother and I spent on your schooling!"

Jarrod had the grace to smile slightly at Tom’s words. In fact, he’d received considerable pressure from hometown friends to return home. Stockton was growing, now that the war was over. The town had need of a lawyer.

"Edward and Charles will keep you informed about Anne’s progress. When she’s ready to accept you back into your life, you’ll know it.

Jarrod nodded sadly. "I suppose you’re right. But, what about you? Will you return to Stockton with me?"

Tom turned away from his son’s scrutiny. "Not yet, son. There’s unfinished business in Washington I must attend to."

"The investigation of Lincoln’s assassination? You and Edward are right in the middle of it, aren’t you?"

"I don’t think you need to ask that question, Jarrod," Tom Barkley had said with quiet intensity.

This time, it was the son who put a comforting hand on the older man’s shoulder. "Anything I can do?"

"My one success in the matter, thus far, has been my ability to keep you out of it. No, son. Go home. Take care of our home and family for me. I’ll leave here as soon as I’m able. And, believe that you will see Anne again."

His father had been correct. Jarrod had his reunion with Anne a year later. But, it was not the type of reunion he had had in mind for them. For, it was a resurrected Dark Watch that brought them back together.

It had been the most difficult assignment either had tackled for their government. But, not because it placed them in physical danger. The personal aspects of it were harrowing enough for both of them. To be in close physical proximity to each other. Forced to work together under the guise of brother and sister - - their cover stories for the assignment - - was agony. So close, they were. And yet, never farther apart.

As time passed, their paths continued to cross. They were ordered to function as a team for more Government assignments, saw each other at the occasional social event. And very gradually, with time, and renewed contact with each other, the wall that Anne had erected around her heart - - the one designed to keep Jarrod at a distance - - began to crumble. Her love for him was overcoming her pain. The balance was beginning to tip in the other direction.

Their coming together was a slow process. Jarrod had been sensitive to her emotional and physical scars. While he wanted to resume their relationship more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life, he was aware that a wrong move on his part would drive her away from him, altogether.

For her part, once Anne had grown strong enough to face down her nightmares, she declared war on the legacy of Jamesville Landing. She fought for her life. For her love. For a future with Jarrod. Finally, in 1870, Anne and Jarrod had resumed a courtship that had been so tragically interrupted by Jamesville Landing five years before. And over the course of the next year, they had slowly rebuilt their relationship.

Now, as Jarrod looked at her, standing in the elegant library of Nob House with her elegant gown gracefully draped around her, with her head cast proudly about square shoulders and straight back, he marveled at her strength, her gutsy courage that brought her to his side, once again. And thanked God for answering his prayers.

"Jarrod."

He looked at Anne closely, aware that she had something important to say to him.

"Go on, honey."

Anne turned to study the roaring fire with intense concentration, searching for the right words to express herself. After a moment, she said, softly, "The warehouse episode was an . . . eye-opening experience. It sparked memories, images of Jamesville Landing that haven’t seemed that real in a very long time. And they, in turn, motivated me to look at the intervening years with a clarity I haven’t had before."

Anne turned to face Jarrod. "There’s no excuse for the way I’ve treated you, and how long it’s taken me to find my way back to you. Years, Jarrod! Over six years! I - - I’ve put us through agony all that time. And through it all, you’ve been so patient with me. Even when I turned you away. The confrontation with Julia a few days ago has caused me to do some serious soul searching about that."

Jarrod frowned at the self-criticism he heard in her voice. "It was a miracle you survived at all. I understood that."

"Yes, well, I’ve done more than survive, actually. And, as I was staring into the craziness burning in Julia’s eyes in that warehouse the other day, I realized it. I knew - - for the first time I really felt deep to the core - - that I was no longer that broken doll you rescued from Jamesville Landing. Something about hearing her talk about it, as she did. The brutal way it all sounded coming from her, forced me to look at myself. The way I am, now."

She stepped back from him, her arms at her sides. "While the legacy of Jamesville Landing is a part of my life, and still has its profound effects upon me, it no longer controls me." She look at Jarrod with blazing eyes. "Somewhere along the line, I’ve learned to live with it."

"Yes, you have," he said, softly.

She smiled slightly. "Julia’s words, meeting your family - - well, it’s brought our . . . situation . . . into sharper relief, Jarrod." She took a deep breath. "If you’d asked me, even a month ago, if I was ready to meet your Mother, I’d have said . . . not yet. That was an event I could see happening . . ." she gestured vaguely. "In the future. I was fearful because meeting her, and the rest of your family, would make the two of us - - the couple that we are - - too . . . real ... I thought I wasn’t ready for it. I was still hiding behind a tiny slab of that wall I’d constructed around my heart .. . that part of my heart that had been hurt by my experience in prison."

"And now?" Jarrod found he was holding his breath, and forced himself to inhale.

"Now that I have met your Mother and Nick, I realize that I’ve been ready for them for a long time, and never knew it."

"What are you saying, Anne?"

She looked up at him and with quiet intensity, said, softly, "First, a question for you. And a request for help. You’ve always made your intentions clear where I’m concerned. Even, knowing about the scars I carry around with me, you’ve always wanted me back into your life. That is so, is it not?"

"Yes."

"The . . . physical side of our relationship . . . that’s the one part of this that I . . .."

"I would never force you to do something you weren’t ready for, Anne." Jarrod’s deep voice rumbled with repressed emotion.

Anne smiled sadly. "I know that. And cherish it more than you could ever realize. But, it’s not the point." She paused. "I remember what it was like between us. Before. The passion was overwhelming. And while we never consummated our love," her smile widened, "Well, that was merely because we never had an opportunity to do so."

Jarrod returned her smile. "Yes, I seem to remember one particular night in an abandoned farmhouse in Virginia when a Confederate raiding party arrived at a most inopportune moment."

Anne’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. "You’ll never know how much I regret that lost opportunity. I wanted you to be the first - - ."

"I know."

Anne took a ragged breath. "I want to feel that passion again, Jarrod. Unencumbered by ghosts and nightmarish images. I’m going to need your help and patience to accomplish that."

"I will do everything in my power to help you."

She smiled, slightly. "The voice of experience. I’m guessing you haven’t been celibate all this time. Waiting for me. And I’m glad for that." Jarrod’s mind flashed to Dinah. The beloved mistress who provided Jarrod the physical outlet he so needed. The older woman who had been there for him during the past five years.

They had always reveled in the pure enjoyment of each other’s bodies, he and Dinah. But, for all the satisfaction they had found in each other’s arms, Dinah had made it clear to her lover that she knew Anne was the only woman for Jarrod. His one true love.

In fact, Dinah was Anne’s staunchest fan and supporter. She, like Anne, had been raped in her younger years. She understood what Anne was going through. And had helped Jarrod understand, as well. That the younger woman would recover from her trauma. And that once she did, Jarrod would find all the passion and physical love he could handle in his beloved.

He would have no need for a mistress, then, Dinah had told him. Instead, she would happily change the role she played in his life. She had always been his friend. Now, she would be his platonic friend. And, in return for her friendship and support, she would always be financially secure. Until the day she died.

Now, as he watched Anne turned to face him, Jarrod thought, You were right, Dinah, my dear. You told him this day would come. The day when Anne reentered my life. That day is today.

He turned his full attention back to Anne. And heard her say to him in a calm voice, "I don’t begrudge you your affairs, Jarrod. But, I don’t want you to ever need the body of another woman again, because I am unavailable to you. I want to give you all you need and desire. I want to come to your bed, and be your woman in all respects."

"Anne, I don’t doubt for a minute that that will happen."

Anne smiled slightly. "You’re always so sure of me. Of us. In the past, I’ve always been the one unsure. Unsettled. But now . . . well, what I’m trying to tell you is that I no longer feel unsure and unsettled. Indeed, I feel that it’s time our future plans were no longer shrouded in uncertainty, and concern over my mental and physical well being. With your support and help, I’m ready to be your wife."

Jarrod stared at her without speaking. How long had he waited to hear those words from her, again. Words that came from her very soul. Words that were true and tested. He opened his arms to her, and held her fast.

He kissed her deeply. And, unlike the other times when passion had risen between them, Anne did not pull away in panic. She clung to Jarrod, as if her life depended upon it. And allowed herself to be swept up in the rapid flow of emotions that raged between them. She felt a stirring deep in the core of her. An excitement. It was a sensation she hadn’t experienced in years. Its familiarity was welcome. And intoxicating.

He kissed her face, nuzzling her neck as his hands gently massaged her back, pressing her close against him. She responded to his touch, melting into his body, inhaling the scent of him.

"Thank God," he breathed into her hair. "I never doubted you’d find your way back to me, honey."

Anne looked up at him. "Never? Not even when you first found me in that place?"

Jarrod’s eyes were a deep blue alive with fire and emotion. "When I first found you in that place, I was afraid you were dead."

Anne looked away, then.

He gently cupped her chin in his hand and guided her face back towards him. "The fact that you survived your injuries was a miracle. The fact that you’re standing here, with me, now, is the result of solid love and hard work on both our parts. And we both deserve to celebrate." He smiled down at her. "So, lovely lady, shall we plan the wedding for tomorrow? Or sooner. In an hour, say?"

Anne laughed. "Just like a man. With no idea what planning a wedding entails." She sobered. "We have to give your family a chance to get to know me. And -- we have some difficult decisions to make."

Jarrod placed his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her serious expression. Kissing her lightly on her forehead, he said, "Yes, we do."

They stepped apart, then.

Anne took a deep breath. "I know we’ve talked about whether or not to tell your family about Dark Watch - - we’ve never really decided how we’re going to handle that. But, I’m afraid our marriage is going to force us to make a decision about it. One way, or the other."

Jarrod heard the suppressed emotion in Anne’s voice, and he looked at her intently. He reached out and took one of her hands, cradling it between his. "I know. Decisions will have to be made about where we live, and how we live, based upon whether or not they know we’re government agents."

"Well, we know that living on or near the ranch is not possible with us both active. One government agent in the family is difficult enough to conceal. But, two - - - well, it would be preposterous. The odd comings and goings. Meetings at strange hours. Impossible to explain."

Jarrod sighed. "The damnable thing about it is that there is no perfect solution. Whatever we decide to do - - tell them, or not tell them - - someone will be hurt. Disappointed. Possibly endangered."

"We could appeal to Jonathan, again. If he knew we were to be married, perhaps he’d release us from - - ." Anne broke off as she saw the expression on Jarrod’s face. "No, of course that would never happen."

She looked at Jarrod closely. "Even though your family’s ignorance of Dark Watch has kept them safe from it’s effects, the deception has never rested upon your shoulders easily, has it? Nor on mine, for that matter."

Jarrod flung himself into a chair by the mantel. "When Father first came to me, and told me about Dark Watch, in the early days of the War, I looked at my involvement as a golden opportunity to fight for something I believed in. A cause. Freedom. A model of Government that was a bright and shining example to the world of how a people could govern themselves with fairness and justice. I wanted to make a real difference, contribute to that cause in a more significant way than standing in a battle line waiting to be mowed down by enemy fire."

Jarrod gave Anne a piercing look. "I felt I had achieved my goal, then. And I was proud of my service to the Union. But, now - - ."

He dropped his head in one cupped hand. "I don’t know. On one level, I acknowledge that I’m still serving my country in an important way. Probably performing service that few could handle successfully, and the contribution is invaluable. Still - -."

"You’ve grown weary of it. I understand what that feels like," Anne said.

"You know, when I built up my practice after the war, I thought my involvement with Dark Watch would be over. How could Washington risk using someone with a high profile existence like a lawyer? Father interceded on my behalf. And they backed off. For a time. Oh, Jonathan asked for my assistance from time to time, but . . . never anything that interfered with my well-ordered life. You . . . well, you were so ill after Jamesville, there was no question but that you wouldn’t be called upon to serve them."

"My respite didn’t last long, my dear. Within a year, I was handling my own share of assignments. And your involvement increased, bit by bit, until not even your Father could win you a reprieve from Dark Watch."

"Very few find their way out of Dark Watch alive," he said, grimly.

He was silent for a long moment, before he added, softly, "I’m an officer of the court, Anne. Sworn to uphold the law. And yet, too often I’m ordered to break that same law. How many times have we balked at orders, only to be told that the fate of our country depends upon us to carry them out? How many times have I left the courtroom after a trial, only to turn around and take action that flies in the face of the very principles I hold dear, and have just fought for on behalf of a client?"

"It’s called sacrificing for the greater good, my love. Or, so says Jonathan. Learning to reconcile the clashes of a double life is the hardest lesson that we’ll ever face. And, frankly, you’re visible life as a lawyer is a perfect cover for an agent. Who would think that the honorable Jarrod Barkley - - ?"

"Was really an assassin for the Government?"

Anne shook her head, angrily. "That’s not fair, Jarrod. You’ve fought Jonathan on many occasions when he’s ordered us to leave no traces behind after an assignment’s conclusion. The body count would be much higher if not for you. And the principles you bring to Dark Watch."

"Nevertheless, the duplicity eats away at my soul. As it does yours. The better I get at it, the more of me it destroys. And through it all, my family has no idea. None." He sighed. "I’m the head of that family, Anne. Big brother. Eldest son. I settle their disputes, help them solve their problems. And when I leave the house for one of my frequent trips to San Francisco, they have no idea that, many times, I’m leaving them for a government assignment that would make their hair stand on end if they knew anything about it."

Jarrod looked over at Anne. "A not insignificant part of me wants to be honest with them. About us, and Father, and our involvement with the Government. And, when I’ve uncovered the details of it, the truth behind Father’s death. But, as much as you and I have discussed the matter, we’ve never really resolved how to communicate it to them. How much to tell them - - . And, I always come back to the danger it could inflict upon them."

"Knowledge of Dark Watch is dangerous knowledge," Anne said, quietly.

"I . . . can’t place them in danger, Anne."

"I understand," Anne said, softly. "Personally, I’ve always thought Tom was wise to keep them safe from the Dark Watch. And that coming from a person whose entire family was sucked into the abyss. But, you have to decide if you’re still willing to shoulder the painful burden of the deception, of lying to them, to save your family from Dark Watch."

Jarrod gave her a swift look.

Anne walked over to him and placed a steadying hand on his shoulders. "I’ll support you. No matter what you decide to do."

"Thank you, my love," Jarrod whispered. Then, he stirred restlessly, and flung himself out of his chair. "God! How I detest it all! If there’d been any way out of Dark Watch, I would have taken it a long time ago."

He was silent for a long moment, then turned back to Anne. When he spoke, his voice was deathly calm. Carefully devoid of emotion.

"We honor my Father’s wishes. We keep the knowledge of Dark Watch away from my family. Even though that means living away from them once we’re married."

"Very well, my love."