"There are secret passages running throughout the chateau."

Nikita nearly screamed with frustration. "And you didn’t think of them until now?"

Michael grabbed Nikita by the shoulders and shook her gently. "Kita! I was a boy myself when I last investigated these passages. It’s been a long, long time. I know the passages well...but I’ve been so worried, I can’t think straight."

Nikita stared at him, abruptly realizing that she’d been depriving both of them of what they needed most. To lean on each other and draw on each other’s strength. No wonder she was falling apart. No wonder Michael looked tormented. They were two halves of the same whole, not quite rendered useless without the other, but always better together.

She tightened her grip on Michael’s neck and whispered, "Please...forgive me."

His eyes darkened dramatically. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he sat back on his haunches. "Let me find them first."

***

Birkoff handed Michael the flashlight. They had explored several passages so far. None held the children. Michael was beginning to despair of ever finding them, and the thought of giving up on them truly frightened him.

Suddenly he heard Nikita’s voice, quite clearly. "Kita! Where are you?"

"Above you, I think. Why?"

He had an idea. "Kita, check each room on the second floor. Some of these passages lead upstairs. Listen for the children. You might be able to hear them. It would give us a clue to their whereabouts."

Nikita exclaimed, "You’re right! I hear them! Michael, I hear them!"

Michael didn’t need to hear another word. He and Birkoff scrambled out of the dark passage, as quickly as possible, and headed upstairs.

***

When Michael and Birkoff arrived, Nikita was on her hands and knees near the wall of one of the bedrooms. "Come out! Faith, this is Mommy! You have to come out now!"

Michael’s blood chilled when he heard Faith’s response. She was alive and well...and going to get the spanking of a lifetime. "NO!"

Nikita all but wrung her hands. "What do you mean, no? You come out of there right now, Faith!"

"NO!"

After several more tries, each meeting with the same response, Nikita despaired of ever seeing her daughter again. Birkoff put his hand on Nikita’s shoulder. "Nikita...she’s not two yet, but this sounds an awful lot like...well, that stage when kids say "No" to anything?"

"You mean the terrible two’s? God, Birkoff, how long has this been going on?"

"It just started...now."

She groaned. "Timing is everything, isn’t it?"

"Any ideas on how to resolve this?" Michael looked grim. If Faith wouldn’t come out for her mother, maybe she would come out for him. She was still Daddy’s girl. Wasn’t she?

"Faith! Daddy wants you to come out of there right now! Come to Daddy, petite!"

"NO!"

Faith giggled loudly. Michael sighed. It was going to be a long day.

***

They all heard Faith shriek. Michael was wracking his brain, trying to remember which passage led to this room, and what other passages led away from it and to where. But the more worried he became, the harder it was to think.

Nikita yelled, "Don’t be scared, honey! Daddy’s going to rescue you!" She looked at Michael, willing it to be true.

"Aren’t you, Michael?" Her heart in her mouth, she could barely speak.

"I’ll try my best, doucette."

A few moments later, they heard Faith exclaim, "Ooh, pretty kit-tee!" They hoped it was a cat. They had no way of knowing. It wasn’t.

***

Faith stood in the dimly lit passage, her shoes scuffed from trudging through the deserted chambers. A medium-sized grey rat wiggled its nose at her. Faith, in her limited experience with animals, assumed it to be a cat. Shouting "Pretty kit-tee!", Faith was about to pet it when a hand grabbed her arm.

It was her brother Chris.

"NO!"

Faith jerked her hand back, as if burned. Chris never raised his voice. Ever. Not to anyone. But especially not to her.

"No?" she asked, whimpering at being denied something she wanted. It worked with Mommy and Daddy. Maybe it would work on Chris.

"No, Fee. BAD!" Chris was quite adamant, now that he had finally risen to the challenge and found his voice. He might never be the same again.

Faith started forward, towards the rat again, and Chris pulled his sister away, tugging on her arm with a strength one might not suspect in a toddler. "BAD! BAD, FEE!"

The rat, alarmed by the tone of Chris’ suddenly booming voice, scampered off into the darkness. The threat was over. But Chris refused to relinquish control. He was in charge now. He was definitely Michael’s son.

Faith cried and cajoled, to no avail. Chris would not let go of her until they reached a passage that led to a lighter area, indicating a way out. He gave his sister a gentle push through the secret door and into the room beyond.

Faith landed on her hands and knees. In Declan’s room.

***

Faith would have cried, but she saw boots. Feet. Right in front of her nose. Daddy feet?

She slowly looked up the length of the legs and sadly concluded that no, these were not Daddy feet. They were Uncle feet. That might be worse. The Daddy was not happy with her right now, but the Uncles might be even more unhappy.

Declan stood unsteadily, looking down at Birkoff’s goddaughter. "Well, well, the little prodigal’s returned, I see. Where’s your brother?"

Faith smiled and said, "Buh-buh?"

Declan grinned. "Nice try, sweetness, but I’m your other uncle."

Faith put a finger in her mouth, fluttering her eyelashes coyly at Declan. "Dec?"

"That’s right, you little minx. Now come over here." With that, he scooped Faith up, uncaring that she was covered in soot and dirt from the secret passages.

He peered through the door that still stood ajar. Unable to see very far into the dark, he called out. "Chris! Where are you, boyo? I’ve got your sister! Come on out now!"

Chris appeared, suddenly popping out of the hideyhole in the wall, similarly covered in soot and grime. Chris looked steadfastly at his uncle. He liked him. He was strong, like Daddy.

He put his hand out, and Declan took it, walking slowly towards the door of his suite. "Let’s go find your parents, guys. I know they were awful worried."

***

Nikita cried in Michael’s arms, while he laughed. His son saved his daughter! They all heard it. They all cringed when Faith wanted to pet the "kitty", but there was nothing anyone could do. But Chris. Michael was so proud of his son, he had no intention of punishing him for his part in the adventure through the secret passages. Nikita was quite beside herself. It had been a long, trying day.

When Declan walked through the doorway with the twins, as dirty and disheveled as they were, there were exclamations of joy all around. Declan handed Faith to her mother, and Nikita hugged her tight, unable to contemplate punishment for disobedience at this point. They were both alive and well...and stinky.

That was the important thing.

Chris clung to Declan’s leg until his father approached. Not sure if the Daddy was upset with him or not, Chris more or less hung back for a while. But when he saw his father’s green eyes, wet with tears, he leaped forward for a hug of his own. "Daddy!"

Michael hugged his son, and Chris wrapped his arms around Michael’s neck, pressing baby kisses all over his cheeks. Michael laughed softly, glancing gratefully at Declan.

Declan smiled wearily as Birkoff made his way to his side. "You okay?" Birkoff whispered.

Declan leaned on Birkoff’s shoulder. "Never better, Sey. Never better."

"Mmm...that feels great."

Birkoff poured more aloe vera lotion into his hands before gently applying it to Declan’s body. Declan was lying on his stomach on their bed. His skin still pink in some places, he was over the worst of his sunburn. But the doctor had recommended that his skin be conditioned, to preserve the natural moisture and to prevent scarring from where he had blistered.

When the doctor first suggested this, Declan had adamantly refused, envisioning someone like Captain Honey coming to his rescue. He wasn’t really one for flaunting his body, despite his recent escapade on the bridge with his lover. But the doctor insisted, and Declan reluctantly agreed. Only after Birkoff agreed to perform the task.

Declan laughed to himself. He thought he got the better part of the deal. Birkoff’s hands were getting tired. Declan made him massage the lotion into virtually every part of his body. That’s why he was lying on his stomach. To hide the fact that he was becoming desperately aroused by Birkoff’s careful ministrations.

Birkoff chuckled. Declan thought he was fooling him. He knew he loved being touched like this. He bent over Declan’s neck and parted his long red hair there. He found the most sensitive part of his neck and lightly kissed it. Declan shifted slightly. "Sey, what are you doing?"

Birkoff didn’t answer right away. He replaced his mouth with his tongue, licking the nape of Declan’s neck. That got Declan’s attention. Declan almost rolled over, but caught himself at the last moment, realizing how revealing that would be. "Were you missing me that much then?"

Birkoff’s hands stilled on Declan’s body. "It’s been almost four days, Declan."

"I didn’t know you kept track of those sorts of things, Sey. Are we on a schedule?"

If only Declan didn’t sound so amused...Birkoff would have proved to him how much he missed him. Right then and there. Oh, well. His loss. All he got was a massage.

***

The restoration of the chateau had begun at long last. Michael hired a contractor to help with the more complicated work, but he had every intention of being in on every part of the chateau’s reconstruction. His shirt came off soon after he began working outside. The morning sun was hot, and Michael’s skin was capable of tanning, despite his natural fairness. That he wasn’t already tan was simply because there was little time spent standing still in Section. And since they’d left Section, events often moved at such a clip as to make sunbathing a curious luxury.

His hair already damp on the back of his neck, he could feel the wet tendrils curling. He wiped his forehead with his forearm. Nikita strolled down the walkway, a twin attached to each of her arms. Chris bounced happily up and down, almost dislocating Nikita’s shoulder, when he saw his father. "Daddy! Daddy!" Faith sucked her thumb, seemingly chastened since the incident in the secret passages of the chateau.

Michael grinned when he saw his son. His green eyes lit on Nikita, and the warmth in his eyes had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. He kissed her in greeting, his lips lingering a bit too long for a simple "good morning", but Nikita didn’t mind at all.

"Is it true that people make love more often during warm weather?" Nikita asked coyly, her expression curiously like her daughter’s.

"I don’t know. Maybe we should conduct a....scientific experiment." Michael’s mouth nuzzled her neck even as his hands moved restlessly through her hair.

"Mmm...that might be nice. But not in front of the kids, okay?" Nikita giggled, noting that her daughter was regarding her with something that might be jealousy in an older female. Oho, she didn’t like her Daddy’s attention being usurped by her Mommy.

Michael nodded. "I think Fee’s nose is a bit out of joint since her adventure." He touched his wife’s face, his roughened fingertips grazing it gently, and she sighed contentedly. "You know what I like..."

"Always, Kita."

"Can we watch Daddy work?" Nikita asked, knowing the answer.

"Of course."

***

Declan wrapped a sheet around himself before getting up. Birkoff looked amused. "Declan, I’ve already seen what you’ve got."

Declan glared at Birkoff briefly, before a cocky grin took the glare’s place. "I’m going to make you pay for teasing me like that, Sey. You just see if I don’t."

"Ooh, I’m shaking in my boots, Dec."

Declan reached out with one long, sculpted finger and traced it across Birkoff’s mouth. Birkoff watched Declan take that same finger and trail it across his own lips. "Unfair, Declan," he whispered, aching to kiss those lips.

Declan’s hair was a riot of red curls, falling all loose about his shoulders and trailing down his back. His grey eyes, far from stormy, softened as he stared at his lover. "I never promised to play fair, Sey..." he whispered, his gaze suddenly intense.

"Who’s watching the kids?" Declan asked.

"Nikita," Birkoff answered, his own dark chocolate eyes never straying from Declan’s.

Declan dropped the sheet.

Michael laughed as Nikita put the twins to work, helping him clear the weeds and other debris from the garden. Michael pulled the weeds, which, considering all the time that had passed since this was done, was a formidable task. He then handed some of them to his son, who seemed to share his father’s love for the earth, and Chris brought them to Nikita. Nikita sat cross-legged at the end of the garden, guarding the only exit, making it impossible for the twins to escape her notice, even briefly. As for Faith, she was either sulking prettily, or she didn’t enjoy the feel of dirt beneath her fingernails.

Chris made several trips in this fashion, feeling a very strong bond with his father. He knew that the Daddy was proud of him for taking care of his sister. He understood that, and it changed something inside him. He had always cared what happened to Faith, of course, but the incident triggered something that in an adult might have been called abstract thinking. Chris was beginning to develop an incredible insight into people, particularly those who surrounded him, and though he was terribly young for such a gift, he was precocious enough to appreciate it as such, even if it was on a very basic level.

Faith ignored her brother’s attempts to involve her in the weeding of the garden. She was bored. No one was paying attention to her. More specifically, the Daddy was not paying attention to her. She knew she was wrong to go off by herself and begin exploring the secret passages in the chateau. If Chris hadn’t followed her and then rescued her from the predatory rat, well, it didn’t bear thinking about. Faith shuddered. She was inquisitive, even adventurous. Surely that type of behavior should be rewarded. Even if it led to potentially dangerous consequences.

She wished the Daddy would stop working for a second and play with her. He was giving all the weeds to Chris. She stuck her tongue out at Chris. She didn’t want his old weeds anyhow. They were dirty.

Faith yawned. She looked up at her mother and pulled on Nikita’s long pale blonde braid. "Mom-mom?"

"What, sweetie?"

"Go for ride?"

"No, honey, we have work to do. We’ll go for a ride later. You can meet the horsies, okay? You’ll like that."

Faith yowled. A more horrendous sound was never heard. Nikita braced herself for the temper tantrum that undoubtedly would follow. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she noted that Faith was still peeking surreptitiously at her, she closed her eyes again, counting to twenty this time.

Michael took out his bandana and wiped his brow with it. His entire back was coated with sweat now. He sat down next to Nikita, leaning on her for a moment. "Got any water in that pack you brought?"

She opened the pack and searched, producing a pint bottle of mountain spring water. Michael took the bottle gratefully and drank thirstily. When he handed it back, it was empty. "This is hot work."

Chris climbed into his father’s lap. "Hot work, Mommy," he echoed, sounding just like Michael.

Nikita laughed. "You know, Michael, Chris sounds just like you."

Michael smiled, his lips parting to reveal his bright white teeth. "I know."

"I mean literally. Chris speaks English with your accent."

Michael blinked. "He does?"

"I think you’re too close to it to hear it. But yeah, he does. You’re his hero. I guess he wants to be just like you."

Michael looked uneasy. "I don’t want him picking up my broken English, Kita."

"Your English is not broken, Michael. You’re more articulate than I am. Besides, I love your accent. Especially when you get tired...and you start to sound so....French." She kissed him, and he was so surprised, he forgot to close his eyes.

Chris reached between the two and patted his mother on the cheek, forcing them apart, giggling all the way. Nikita reached for Chris’ nose and tapped it lightly with her fingertip. Chris loved the way Mommy smelled. He didn’t know that the floral scent she always wore was jasmine, or that she washed her hair with jasmine-scented shampoo, but he knew what he liked. "Mommy love Daddy."

Nikita looked at Michael, her heart’s greatest desire fulfilled, and smiled peacefully. "Yes, Chris, Mommy loves Daddy."

Michael picked up Nikita’s braid and pulled her to him. His mouth touched hers lightly, once, then twice in succession. "Daddy loves Mommy, too."

***

Declan sat on the edge of the bed while Birkoff fussed over his hair. When Birkoff pulled the brush through his long red curls too hard, Declan protested. Loudly. "Hey! You want to make me bald before my time?"

"Never!" Birkoff exclaimed. Declan knew it was true. Birkoff loved his hair. But this was something new. He wanted to try braiding it. "Who do you think I am? Nikita?"

"I would never mistake you for her, Declan. Bite your tongue."

Declan turned around so quickly, Birkoff never had a chance to move back. Nudging Birkoff’s mouth open, none too gently, Declan kissed him fiercely. "I’d rather have yours," he whispered.

***

Dinner was a subdued affair. The kids were yawning. Nikita was barely awake, and Michael was nearly asleep on her shoulder. Between the sun and the fresh air and the long hours spent in manual labor, the Samuelles were ready for bed.

On the other hand, Declan was wide awake, having spent the better part of four days lying in bed, recuperating from his sunburn. Likewise, his partner, who never left his side except for brief moments.

"Is the garden finished, then, Michael?"

"Not yet." Michael rubbed a hand absently over his face in an effort to stay alert.

"You want me and Sey to come help tomorrow?"

Michael yawned expansively.

"Was that your answer?" Declan kidded Michael.

Michael nodded. "I’ll do the rest of the garden. But could you and Birkoff check out the stables for me? I need to know if that building is going to need to be replaced as well."

Declan smiled. "Sure. Can we take the horses out for a ride then?"

"You ride?" Michael sounded surprised.

Declan murmured, "After a fashion, yes."

Birkoff said, "I never knew you rode, Declan."

"Back in Ireland, aye." Declan looked sad for a moment, but the look passed so quickly, Birkoff thought he’d imagined it.

"Can you teach me?"

Now it was Declan’s turn to look surprised. "You want to learn to ride, Sey?"

"Yeah, I would. It looks like fun."

Michael strained to stay awake long enough to ask one more question. "Feel up to showing the twins around the horses, too, Declan?"

"You’d trust me with those two on a horse, Michael?"

"I’ve trusted you for a long time, Declan. Don’t tell me you didn’t know that."

"Well, I--"

Michael put his arm around Nikita, kissing the top of her head. "When you first came here, I gave something very valuable into your keeping. My wife. Then when I knew you better, I gave you something just as valuable. My children. You haven’t let me down yet, Declan."

The Declan who survived Section blinked tears away. There was a bond between him and Michael. He’d felt it before. Now he knew it wasn’t just on his side.

Summer nights in the French countryside are indeed beautiful. The area immediately surrounding the chateau belonged to Michael. Beyond that, their nearest neighbor was easily ten kilometers away. The chateau had stayed unchanged for so many years, perhaps because it was so very well secluded. Michael didn’t mind. In fact, he was a man who knew the true value of solitude, and though he had joined his life with the lives of his family, he still appreciated the relative isolation of the chateau.

Still, he was too tired to do more than look out the window longingly at the full moon, admiring the interesting shadows the various parts of the chateau cast across the meadows. The path leading into the forest and towards the wishing bridge was barely visible, despite the intensity of the moonlight.

The babies were asleep. Nikita waited for her husband to come to bed, her chin barely supported by her hands, as she struggled to maintain a sitting position. Michael gave the window one last look before he sleepily made his way to bed. When Michael finally lay down on his side, Nikita slid under the covers behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. "Love you..." she trailed off dreamily.

Michael smiled faintly as his eyelids fluttered slowly shut. "Mmm..." he murmured.

***

Declan waited impatiently for Birkoff to catch up with him. His long strides were outpacing him. Dressed completely in black, Declan was barely visible, except when he stepped directly into the moonlight. In the darkness of night, Declan’s hair looked black, his skin curiously pale. Birkoff was similarly dressed, at Declan’s request.

Together they walked toward the stables. They could barely be called stables anymore, for the entire building looked suspiciously ill-kept, but they did house a number of surprisingly well-bred horses. Declan’s black T-shirt and black jeans made him difficult to distinguish from the other dim objects in the dark, but Birkoff stayed close.

To Birkoff’s amazement, Declan did not place a saddle on the horse he chose. Nor did he use a bridle with a bit. He slipped a halter over the horse’s head, and the horse nickered softly. "You have a way with horses?" Birkoff whispered, his voice sounding impossibly loud to his own ears because of the stillness of the night.

"I used to," Declan answered quietly. "We’ll see if I still do."

All at once Declan hoisted one leg over the horse’s back, landing expertly in a perfect seat. No saddle. No bit. Just his leather-booted feet to guide and control the horse. Birkoff stared at the picture Declan made in the shadowy light inside the stables. He looked like a highwayman or some other romantic figure from an adventure novel of a previous century. He reached out with one hand towards Birkoff, and Birkoff looked at him uncertainly. "You think I can get up there just hanging onto your arm?"

"I’m stronger than I look."

"Well, I’m not--"

Declan grasped Birkoff’s arm and with one smooth tug, he pulled him into position behind him. Birkoff looked down at the ground and gasped. "Uh...I didn’t know we were going to be up so high, Dec."

"Don’t look down." Declan tightened his knees around the horse’s middle and the horse started forward towards the doors of the stables.

Birkoff sputtered, "Wait, wait, Declan! How am I supposed to hang on?"

Declan laughed. "Grab hold of me, Sey. Now hang on. You’re going to love this!"

Declan nudged the horse into a trot, and Birkoff shuddered. Interesting. This was going to be interesting.

***

Once they were into the meadows, Declan let the horse have its head, and they galloped smoothly across the grassy area. Birkoff closed his eyes, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Declan’s middle, pressing his forehead into his back, as if what he couldn’t see wouldn’t hurt him.

"Isn’t this the most marvelous feeling, Sey?" Declan called back to him.

Birkoff vaguely wondered if it were possible to have motion-sickness on a horse. "Marvelous," he muttered to himself.

Declan reined in the horse expertly when they came to the trail leading into the forest. "We should probably head back."

"Oh, don’t cut your ride short on my account, Declan," Birkoff said weakly, feeling as if his legs would never support him again.

Declan slowed the horse to a walk and they continued on that way for a long time, neither of them speaking. Birkoff was finally starting to get used to the feeling of rocking gently back and forth when Declan eased the horse into a canter. The thong holding Declan’s hair back slipped loose and fell away, leaving his long hair streaming behind him like a banner. Birkoff pushed Declan’s hair away from his face, clinging to Declan for dear life, certain that his life was about to end at any moment.

When they finally stopped in front of the wishing bridge, Birkoff didn’t even realize where they were. His eyes were closed, his face pressed tightly against Declan’s back.

It took a few moments for Declan to detach himself from Birkoff’s stranglehold. "I’m sorry, Sey. Here I was, enjoying myself, and I was so sure you would love it the way I do." Declan vaulted down to the ground and securely tied the horse to a nearby branch.

"I like it, Declan," Birkoff said, his teeth chattering together. "I just need a bit more time to get used to it. That’s all."

Declan held out his arms to Birkoff. "Jump, Sey. I’ll catch you."

Birkoff looked terrified. "Jeez, I don’t think so."

Declan moved closer to the horse and waited. Birkoff slowly slid down the side of the horse until he reached Declan’s arms. Declan grabbed hold of him and steadied him on his feet.

He pulled on Birkoff’s arm until he began to follow Declan.

***

"It’s pretty out here."

Birkoff shivered, despite the warmth of the night. "There are probably bears around."

"I guess we should go back then."

Declan’s disappointment was easy to read, even in the darkness. His voice said it all. Birkoff opened his eyes wide, trying to see better, but it was futile.

"I’m sorry, Dec. I know you’re trying to be romantic and all, but...this is too deserted for me."

"That was the whole idea," Declan said dryly.

Declan sighed and they silently walked back the way they came.

***

On the way back, Birkoff found himself starting to become more accustomed to the movements of the horse beneath him. It didn’t feel like he was about to fall off anymore. He held onto Declan, and he concluded that he did like that part of the ride. Holding onto Declan was definitely one of his favorite things.

When they got to the stables, Declan swiftly dismounted, then helped Birkoff get down. He wiped the horse down with a cloth, removed the tack, and placed a blanket over the horse’s back.

Now that they were back on solid ground, Birkoff felt more like himself. He grew bold once Declan finished caring for the horse. Just as Declan would have exited the stables, Birkoff grabbed him by the arm, suddenly pulling him into an embrace. "Hey..."

Birkoff looked behind him. There was a small, relatively clean area filled with straw and the like. He pulled on both of Declan’s arms until he followed him down into the straw. Declan shook his head. Birkoff changed Declan’s mind the next instant when he kissed him.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, Birkoff pushed gently against Declan’s mouth until it opened. Declan responded with a series of warm, wet, open-mouthed kisses that left Birkoff wondering if Declan had ever worked as a Valentine operative.

He groaned out loud as Declan started to lave the side of his neck with his tongue. He pushed Declan’s T-shirt up and raked both hands down his back, unconsciously pulling his body over his. Declan’s knee touched his groin, and Birkoff slid his hands inside Declan’s jeans.

Declan rolled over onto his back, taking Birkoff with him. He smiled softly in the darkness as his partner’s mouth found him again. Both unbearably aroused yet affectionately disposed towards his lover, Declan let Birkoff kiss him repeatedly, his mouth growing more swollen with each tug of his lips.

Declan’s hands traced their way over his lover’s chest, stopping only to unbuckle his belt. His hair falling into Declan’s face, Birkoff licked Declan’s lips, gently pulling on them with his teeth.

Just as he slowly began to pull down the zipper on Declan’s jeans, he suddenly found himself flipped onto his back. With a feral smile, Declan claimed him. He couldn’t help himself. A low moan escaped him.

Declan whispered against his mouth, "Ssh, you’ll scare the horses."

Michael had not been on a horse in recent memory. But it was something that was probably bred into his genes, for one ride was all it took for his former expertise to come back. As a boy, Michael rode often and well. He had even learned to jump before his family left the chateau.

But fence jumping and dressage were the last things on Michael’s mind right now. Nikita was mildly perturbed when Michael woke her as early as he dared. She was still tired from the previous day’s hard work, and she rubbed at her eyes sleepily even as she yawned expansively.

"This better be good, Michael."

"Oh, I think you’ll like our ride, Kita. I’m going to show you something I’ll bet you’ve never seen before."

Intrigued despite her fatigue, Nikita smiled at her husband. He deserved a gold star for effort this morning. He was trying desperately to motivate her, and damn, if he wasn’t actually succeeding.

***

Michael dressed in black made Nikita’s heart stop. He looked wonderful. His black jeans molded themselves to his hips and thighs, and when he strode toward her, she had to remind herself that he already belonged to her. Lucky girl.

Oddly enough, seeing him all in black didn’t make her think of Section One. Instead, she found herself remembering the way he looked the first time they came to the chateau. When they danced in the deserted ballroom, seemingly without music, and their hearts celebrated nonetheless.

She reached out to him as he approached, and he smiled. "You look beautiful, Michael."

He frowned. "Men don’t look beautiful, Kita. Women do."

"Trust me, Michael...you look beautiful. And I’m well aware that you’re not a woman, believe me." As she finished speaking, she deliberately drew her open hand across the front of his jeans, gently caressing him through his clothing.

He stood there, legs apart, waiting for her to touch him again, and she did. She closed her eyes as she kissed him, her hand wandering over the length of him even as he hardened against her hand. "Oh, Michael...," she said in an aroused whisper, suddenly very much aware of her husband’s masculinity.

"Maybe we should just stay here..."

"No, doucette," he said with a crooked smile. "This is one ride you won’t want to miss."

***

He vaulted into the saddle with an aplomb Nikita could only admire. He held a hand out, much the way Declan did to Birkoff, but Michael not only pulled her up, he seated her in front of him. His boots found the stirrups, and he kicked his heels gently, starting their adventure.

It was so early, the sun was barely rising over the mountains to the east. Settled against Michael’s body, she was very much aware of every bump and jostle during the course of their ride. When they climbed a hill, she leaned back, her back touching Michael’s chest. She could feel his breath in her hair, even as his thighs tightened around her. It was such a sensual experience, it made her ache in places he was not touching her.

When they finally crested the hill, she was nearly out of breath from anticipation. She was convinced that he was going to suggest that they make love at the top of the hill there. But no....

He did stop the horse. But as they watched the sun come up over the mountains, in all its glory, he turned Nikita to face him. Pulling her legs over his, he fit her body tight against his. He leaned close, nuzzling her neck, whispering to her, "Open for me..."

She didn’t realize exactly what he meant until he reached under her skirt. Now she understood why he’d asked her to forego underwear. He joined their mouths even as he strained to unite their bodies. Nikita ran her hand down the front of his jeans, where his arousal now commanded her attention, freeing him from the confines of the material. When he entered her, she relaxed, crossing her legs behind him to hold him inside her.

His hands on her hips, he held her in place as he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling as he touched his tongue to her lips, repeatedly nibbling without penetrating. "Hold on tight," he whispered to her.

He gently kicked the horse’s sides, and the horse calmly walked forward. Pulling on the horse’s bridle, Michael headed the horse down the hill slowly. As the horse moved, so did they, in synch with each curve and slope of the hill, and each step and dip of the horse’s gait. His arms wrapped around Nikita and the reins wrapped around his fingers, Michael controlled the horse’s pace, finding that neither of them had to move at all on their own.

Each time Michael clenched his thighs around her, Nikita sighed contentedly, feeling slightly self-conscious about moaning out loud under the circumstances. Michael chewed gently on her mouth, laughing when she whimpered.

Her blue eyes flew open at the burst of laughter, brightly confronting him. His smile faded, along with the laughter. "Ki-ta..."

She suddenly ground her mouth against his, gasping until she was quite breathless. "You’re tormenting me, Michael. I keep coming right up to the edge...then you leave me there...to simmer...alone."

"Shall I put you out of your misery then?" His green eyes glinted mischievously.

"Please...." she begged.

***

She didn’t know how Michael could withstand such torture for so long. It obviously pleasured him to think he’d bested her. But this wasn’t a competition, and the faster participant was not necessarily the winner.

He cradled her against his own hips and rocked her harder, thinking to let her climax that way. But she pulled back suddenly. "Wait. There." She pointed to a tree nearby. Michael had no idea what she was talking about, but she knew what she wanted.

He disentangled their bodies, and he helped her dismount the horse. Once she was free of the horse, she ran to the tree, looking coyly over her shoulder at Michael.

He slid is other leg over the top of the saddle and dismounted. Making sure the horse was secured, he moved closer to Nikita. "Tell me what you want, Kita, and I’ll give it to you."

She leaned against the tree, her legs apart. "That’s what I want, Michael. Give it to me. Now."

In a rush to reunite their bodies, Michael almost climaxed outside her, but he had just enough control left to complete their union. Once he settled deep inside her again, he felt Nikita climax, and he pushed her back against the tree several times until he groaned his own satisfaction into her mouth.

"Michael..." she purred in his ear. "You do rub me the right way."

He chuckled, letting her body slowly return to normal. "Do you want a ride home?"

"I don’t think my heart could stand it."

"Is that a compliment I hear?"

"Mmm...come back here, Michael...I’m not sure I should let you loose among mere mortals. You’re obviously an escaped god, sent here to drive me mad with passion."

He bent over her mouth again, an amused smile tracing his lips. "I love you, my Kita." He buried his face against her neck, his lips seeking and finding something tasty to feast upon.

"I love you, Michael." And with one expert gesture, she disarmed him. His heart was hers. Captured and conquered. Again.