The natives were getting restless. You would almost believe it was Christmas. The twins rarely double-teamed their parents, probably only because they rarely agreed on anything. But this was different. It was the morning of their second birthday.

Chris climbed up onto his parents’ bed, crawling along on his tummy like a junior SEAL, while Faith, who was a shade taller than her brother, reached up to grab a handful of Michael’s hair. Rolling over at the speed of light, Michael trapped Faith’s hand with his. "Qu’est-ce que c’est, Fee?"

"Daddy!" Faith shrieked in her father’s ear, which did not meet with thunderous approval at that hour of the morning.

"I think I already asked you what’s up, Fee," Michael said sleepily, stifling a yawn.

At that exact moment, Chris, who had been creeping along stealthily, chose to tackle his father from behind, grabbing his neck in a chokehold as only a toddler can do. "Unh!" exclaimed Michael, wondering if he could wake up before his children were the death of him.

"Kita?" Michael frowned. When he managed to release himself from Chris’ stranglehold, he didn’t see his wife in bed. "Kita!" he called out, a bit louder this time.

She popped her head out of the bathroom, her toothbrush stuck in her mouth. "Wha?" she asked incoherently.

Michael peeled back the covers, extending his long legs in a maddening rush to get to his feet. He ambled over to where his wife stood patiently. As usual, Nikita wore only the tops of a pair of pajamas, while Michael wore the matching bottoms. Nikita said it was the only thrifty way to shop. When Michael pointed out that they were more or less independently wealthy, inasmuch as necessities went, anyway, Nikita simply shrugged. It made sense to her. Far be it for her to explain it to her husband.

He smiled as he approached Nikita. Kissing her neck, he slid his hands under her pajama top, cupping her bottom familiarly. "Michael! The kids!" she hissed.

He kissed her ear, grinning to himself. "Ki-ta, it’s not like they can see anything."

"Let’s keep it that way."

He removed his hands from her body, but he winked at her as he passed her enroute to the bathroom. "Hey, I need to spit," she complained, a bit of toothpaste noticeably protruding from her mouth.

Michael ignored her, closing the door behind him. Nikita leaned against the door, playing with the toothbrush, plotting how to get even with her husband. Suddenly she noticed that Faith was too quiet. "Fee, what are you doing, honey?"

"Making s’prise for Mom," she answered proudly.

"What kind of surprise, sweetie?" she asked, trepidation growing with every passing moment.

Then she saw it. The potty chair that Nikita had been using with Faith for the past few weeks. It was full. Now that was a charming sight to wake up to, first thing in the morning.

"Fee! You used the potty?" Nikita almost shouted for joy. With so many infants in the chateau now, the smell of poop was somehow never too far away. If even one of the twins showed signs of becoming toilet-trained, she would kneel down and kiss the ground.

"Yep, Mom! Me big girl now?" Faith’s eyes lit up at the idea of becoming a big girl. She was looking forward to that sweet deal that her uncle promised her. About telling Emmy what to do. Like a big sister.

"Sorta, Fee," Nikita conceded. "Depends on what you consider to be a big girl."

"Unca Dec and Unca Sey said...um...said that if me big girl, me gets to help wif dere baby."

"Doing what, Fee?" Actually, Nikita was faintly amused at the idea of Faith doing anything voluntarily.

"Get diapers, Mom...an’-an’...uver stuff."

What Faith really wanted to know was if Nikita objected. No, she didn’t actually care so much about the potential objection as much as if the objection would be strong enough to keep her from doing what she wanted.

"How ‘bout this baby, Fee?" Nikita pointed to her growing abdomen. "You’re going to be a big sister to this baby, too."

"I am?" Faith sounded overwhelmed by the veritable embarrassment of riches she seemed likely to inherit.

Faith sat down on the carpet with a loud plop. "Geeeee, Mom," she whined, "me not dat big."

Chris cackled at his sister’s discomfiture. His sister silenced him with a glare. Nikita watched the two of them and was immediately struck by how much like Michael both of them were, and yet...she admitted that Chris’ laugh was distinctly hers. She would have laughed, too, if she’d been his age.

Faith was in such a race to grow up. She sighed. Chris, on the other hand, acted as if he didn’t know there was a racetrack. Somewhere, there must be a happy medium. Maybe this third child?

As if in answer, the baby kicked Nikita. Perhaps it had something meaningful to contribute to the conversation.

"Seriously, Nikita, I’m beginning to think Connor must be the laziest child God ever created." Madeline sounded almost exasperated.

"But Mom, he’s a baby. What do you expect from him?" Nikita felt herself starting to grin, but then thought better of it.

Madeline wracked her brain for a logical answer, but could come up with nothing. "It’s just that he’s so...."

"Quiet? Well-behaved?" Nikita did grin, then, wondering if any child of Madeline’s would ever dare to act up.

"He just lies there like a lump."

"You wouldn’t like a colicky baby, Mom... And you certainly wouldn’t want him to be more like Faith."

"I...admire her independent spirit, Nikita." Madeline sounded dubious at best.

"You hate it." Nikita shook her head, laughing softly.

"She’s so much like you, how could I hate her?" Madeline tried to smooth over what she had inadvertently admitted.

Nikita’s blue eyes glinted like sapphires lying in the path of the sun. "That was what you didn’t like about me, Mom," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Nikita, you have the memory of an elephant! That was half a lifetime ago!" Madeline exclaimed.

Nikita shrugged. "Maybe Connor is going to be a late bloomer, like Chris."

Michael walked up behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her expansive waistline. He kissed the nape of her neck, then said, "My son is not a late bloomer."

"No," Madeline agreed, "he’s just quiet, like you, Michael."

Michael nuzzled his wife’s neck until she giggled. "Is that what I am, Maddy, quiet?"

"Amongst other things," she replied dryly.

"But my son...and your son...are not late bloomers." Michael sounded absolutely convinced of this. "They are simply taking their time growing up."

"Well, if Connor is bored with life, I could understand it, but I hate the idea of my child being...unmotivated."

"You’d like him to be more like Kita?" Michael asked gleefully, knowing he’d trapped her.

Madeline blinked. "You know, Michael, you’re starting to make me regret pushing the two of you together."

Michael’s mouth dropped open. He stared disbelievingly at Madeline. "You think you pushed us together? Madeline, you were constantly driving a wedge between us!"

"But secretly, I hoped you two would find each other and be together." Madeline looked vaguely uncomfortable, as though she’d been caught in a lie.

Michael’s grip on Nikita tightened, the only sign that Madeline had angered him. "If I hadn’t seized the opportunity to get out and take Kita with me--"

"You forget you had my help, Michael." Madeline sounded cool and unruffled, but the fact was, she was anything but.

"How could I? You constantly remind us of it." Michael glared at his adopted mother-in-law.

"Obviously, nostalgia is not my forte," Madeline said with a superficial smile that did not reach her eyes.

"Obviously," Michael agreed, a coldness creeping into his eyes. Nikita placed her hands over his and exhorted her husband to stop arguing with her mother. "Michael, stop. The baby thinks you’re angry, and it’s not just kicking, it’s digging its heels in."

Michael released her with a sigh and stalked away. Madeline shook her head. "Sorry, Nikita."

"Mom, I wish you wouldn’t play oneupsmanship with Michael. It makes him crazy."

Madeline slowly nodded.

"Oh, and Mom? As for your son, the lump? Connor’s not lazy, he’s just lying in wait. One of these days, you’re going to be pleasantly surprised."

Nikita reached for a knife, holding the plate in her other hand. "Now have a piece of birthday cake and get over it."

***

Faith sidled up to the baby’s cradle and peered inside. Still not walking or talking. Sheesh. In a way, Connor reminded her of her twin, Chris. Same fair hair, same blue eyes. And yet there were subtle differences. Connor’s hair was a darker shade of blond. His eyes were a lighter blue, too.

Caught staring at him, Faith sucked her thumb. He was quiet like Chris. But Mamie was wrong. Connor wasn’t dumb. Or lazy. He could count on both his fingers and his toes, maybe not in English or even French, but if Faith could only translate what he said, it seemed so important.

He was so important.

She didn’t know why she was so drawn to him. He just looked at her with his big blue eyes, as if he liked what he saw. But she wondered sometimes, if he could talk...what would he say to her?

Pretty. The little princess-girl with the green eyes. Connor was too young to know what love was, but he liked Faith. She came to visit him. A lot. Staring at him over the walls of his cradle. Sometimes, she even rocked him gently back and forth, to help him sleep.

***

While Faith was admiring, and cataloguing, Connor’s smiles, her brother was spending considerable time with the newest addition to the family, Emmy. Chris found himself speechless, though it was hard to tell with Chris. She was so tiny.

Michael found his son gazing into Emerant’s cradle with what could only be described as a rapt expression. He smiled. He had seen that look before. He knew it well, though he could not say how he knew. For it was a look he wore on his own face. Every time he looked at Nikita.

Chris reached out to Emerant, his already well-shaped hands yearning to touch her. "Pretty baby," he said, more to himself than to his father.

Michael nodded. "She is pretty, Chris. Si belle. Si douce."

Chris touched the baby’s face lightly. "Soft."

"And sweet," Michael agreed with his son.

Chris looked up, his heart in his eyes for a moment. Michael sighed. Chris was so young, but unless Michael missed his guess, Chris was already promised to the Irish princess. Too bad.

In an uncharacteristic fit of pique, Michael wished things could be different. But then again...he and Nikita were not done having children yet.

Maybe Madeline would get the son she deserved. His son. As a son-in-law one day. That would be true vengeance. For if his son turned out anything like him, with that spirited blend of Nikita’s genes thrown in for good measure, he would be a force to be reckoned with. Michael almost felt sorry for Madeline, if that happened.

But he could not say he was sorry to see Chris so enamored of Emerant. She was exquisite. And he couldn’t ask for better in-laws than Declan and Birkoff. Though he doubted that Declan would share his view if any of this ever came to pass. He had a feeling that Declan was not going to want to part with his daughter. Ever. And even Michael’s son wouldn’t be good enough.

Chris looked up at his father. Michael ruffled his pale blond hair, his hand huge against Chris’ head. "What baby’s name?"

Michael smiled. "Her name is Emmy."

"Emm-eee?"

"Something like that."

Suddenly Chris pointed at Emmy’s chest and cried, "Poo!"

Michael frowned. "That’s not a nice thing to call someone, Chris."

But Chris knew better. His father was so smart, but he overlooked the obvious sometimes. Sometimes a tree really was a tree. In this case, Chris was pointing at the smiling bear figure on Emmy’s pajamas. Pooh. Pooh Bear.

Faith ambled over to see what the fuss was all about. Everyone always oohing and ahhing over the new baby girl. Faith snorted, making a sound somewhere between a hedgehog and a hyena. Chris glanced at his sister, annoyance etching its way across his small face.

Faith felt her brother’s disdain and stuck her tongue out at him. This was nothing new. Faith and Chris were so close, they could read each other’s thoughts sometimes. But that kind of familiarity did breed a certain contempt at times. Like now.

Faith moved to rock the baby’s cradle, and Chris put a hand out to stop her. "No!"

Just as she would have argued with him, Faith felt her father’s eye upon her. It would be better to just say nothing. But the moment her father’s attention was elsewhere, it happened. The turning point.

"Why you like baby? She no pretty than me."

Chris glared angrily at his sister. Normally, he wanted to protect his sister. Right now, he felt compelled to protect Emmy.

"Pretty baby, Fee."

"So? Chris like? Chris like, Chris like," she chanted in that maddening way she had of zeroing in on someone’s weakness.

Chris flushed under his twin’s scrutiny. He had no words to describe what he felt yet, but his sister’s attempt to trespass whatever boundaries lay between them bothered him. "Stop, Fee!"

Faith shouted, "No! No! No!"

Chris held onto his rarely-used temper for long moments before succumbing to the inevitable.

"No, no, no!"

"Fee, shut up!"

There was dead silence. Then Michael’s voice shattered that silence. "Chris!" Michael angrily rebuked his son. "Apologize to your sister."

Chris shook his head. He seldom felt anything this strongly, but he remained adamant. He refused to back down and apologize to Faith. She knew she was wrong. He could read her every eye movement.

Chris did like Emmy. He was going to be a real knight someday, and he would need a princess to rescue. Emerant fit the bill nicely. All of his protective instincts shifted their alliance in that moment. Oh, he would always need his twin in that special way twins have.

But Emmy was different. So different, Chris had no words to describe his feelings. He wanted to keep her safe.

Love Emmy.

Pretty baby.

Nikita struggled to get her unwieldy body into the passenger side of the Jeep. "Declan? I think I need a little help."

Declan raced around to the other side of the Jeep, arriving just in time to prevent Nikita from falling on her backside. "You need more than a little help, Nikita. We might have to get a hydraulic lift just to get you into the car," he commented wryly.

She regarded him impassively, practicing one of Michael’s blank stares. But the whole effect was ruined when she giggled. "Ummm..."

Declan grabbed her under both arms and literally lifted her into the Jeep. Pregnant or not, Nikita didn’t weigh more than a couple of really large bags of potatoes. "Are you sure this trip is necessary? You’re so close to delivery, Nikita."

Declan fretted about these things. Now that he had a child of his own, he was noticeably more reluctant to put himself in the way of danger, and he assumed that other parents shared his fears and anxieties.

"I’ll be fine, Declan," she said with a tiny trace of irritability. She was starting to feel smothered. While a little mothering was a very good thing, especially for someone with her background, Nikita was starting to feel constrained by her extended family’s loving embrace. Consequently, in typical Nikita fashion, she defied their affectionate edicts and wanted to break away. Bigtime.

"Are you sure it’s a good idea to bring the kids?" Declan was developing a worry line between his finely defined eyebrows. Taking care of Nikita was harder than taking care of Sey and Emmy at the same time.

"Declan..." Nikita fixed him with a fierce look. "The kids have become virtually inseparable the past few months. Trust me, it would cause more trouble to take Emmy and leave the others home."

"Maddy doesn’t mind us taking Connor then?" Declan’s expression said he doubted that was true in any real sense.

"Mom is still in a funk over Connor’s lack of ambition. I dunno what she thinks kids that age are supposed to be doing, but she needs to get over it. The other night, Neil snapped at her because she was fussing at Connor."

Declan blinked. "Maybe Maddy has more control issues than she realizes."

"That has got to be the understatement of the year, Declan."

"Maybe she needs to have another baby," offered Declan.

Nikita laughed. "After the other night, I don’t think she’ll let Neil close enough to kiss her, much less make another baby."

"I think she’s having a problem adjusting to motherhood, Nikita," Declan blurted out in a rush.

Nikita looked thoughtful. "That’s a possibility I didn’t consider. What makes you think so?"

"Just a feeling," Declan replied, not revealing that Neil had mentioned something to him. Just once. But it suddenly seemed significant.

At that moment, Birkoff arrived with Emmy in his arms, all bundled up. "Why’s she wearing so much clothing, Sey? It’s May, for goodness sake."

"But it’s not that warm out, and Emmy is kinda small for her age."

"So are you, Sey. I don’t see you wearing a coat," Declan said dryly.

Birkoff’s eyes narrowed. "Remind me to get back at you later for that crack."

"Uh huh," said Declan dismissively.

Once Emerant was firmly strapped into her infant seat, Birkoff continued to fuss over her until Declan physically pulled him away. "Enough. We’re going."

Chris automatically gravitated towards the youngest baby. Gurgling happily at the attention, Emerant smiled. It was as if the sun came out, just to shine for him. Nikita was somewhat amused by the two of them. Well used to her son’s compelling impression of a dark knight, she promptly dubbed Emerant his sunny Irish princess. Ever since the day he peered inside her cradle, Chris was never very far from Emmy’s side. Well, thought Nikita, every knight needed a damsel in distress to rescue, and Chris was no different.

Connor was thirteen months old now, having just passed his first birthday in April. Still showing no visible signs of wanting to overachieve, like his mother, Connor was perhaps more like his father. Of course, it was hard to tell at this point if Connor would share his father’s sense of humor or his single-mindedness towards work, but his tendency to lie back and let things pass over and around him was definitely inspired by his father. His quick mind, however, was courtesy of his mother, though she didn’t know it yet. He just hadn’t developed the verbal skills to accompany it.

Meanwhile, Connor waited impatiently for his little princess-girl with the green eyes. He struggled restlessly with the restraints of the infant car seat, knowing she was nearby. But he couldn’t see her. Where was she? He didn’t mind getting dragged around from store to store at the closest mall, which was not all that close, if she was by his side.

Madeline was going to be damned surprised at her son’s first word. It certainly wasn’t going to be Mama.

But it might very well be....Fee. Now there was an easy syllable to wrap your tongue around. Even if you were only thirteen months old.

By the time they arrived at the mall, Nikita had a splitting headache. She didn’t know whether her blood sugar was too low, or she was simply tense. But she was not happy, and she was fresh out of patience.

Declan tried to keep up with her, but she flew past him, as if she didn’t care if he came or not. "Nikita!" he called out, trying in vain to grab her arm. She eluded his grasp, and he began to feel more than frustrated. Frankly, he didn’t want the job of explaining to Michael why he’d lost his wife.

Finally, Nikita turned around to look behind her. Declan stared after her, knowing it was more important to keep the kids together right now than to follow Nikita, but it was a hard call to make. "I’ll meet you by the baby clothes in five minutes, okay?"

Declan shrugged, realizing he had little choice other than to agree with her. She disappeared into the crowd moments later, and Declan forced himself to relax. Just because he could no longer see her didn’t mean she was in danger.

Declan and Birkoff herded the kids and strollers together, as though they were circling the wagons in the Old West. Just the idea of having Faith get loose in the mall made Declan’s skin crawl. No way he was going to let that happen.

He and Birkoff pushed their way silently through the crowd until they came to the baby clothes. No Nikita. Not that he actually expected to see her, Declan thought.

Resting his body on the top of the stroller that contained Connor and Emerant, Declan began perusing the baby clothes on the rack. The position he was in drew attention to his lean but firm body, not that he particularly noticed. But a vibrant, heavily made up, young female salesclerk did. She admired the way his jeans clung to his frame. Not an inch of wasted space on that torso.

"Can I...help you, sir?" she said, simpering and fluttering her ornate eyelashes at him.

"I don’t think so, no," he replied absently, unaware of the girl’s attention to detail. His details.

"Is there something I could...show you?" she continued.

Now he was listening. "Pardon?"

He never heard Birkoff come up behind him, the other stroller in tow. Birkoff was listening intently to the conversation, his dark chocolate eyes glittering ferally.

"I’d really like to...show you something."

"I’ll bet," said Birkoff sarcastically.

The clerk looked mildly annoyed at Birkoff’s interjection, but dismissed him as inconsequential. She tried to insinuate herself into a more intimate position, but Declan stepped back against the stroller. Unused to being accosted by strange women, Declan looked curiously at sea.

"Um...I’m meeting someone," he said, in an effort to be diplomatic.

"Oh? Your girlfriend?"

"Don’t have one."

"Your wife?"

Declan smiled suddenly. "Oh, yeah, I have one of those," he said, his voice surprisingly serious.

"Figures. The good ones are always married."

The clerk smiled lasciviously, her tongue protruding slightly from her overripe mouth. "I’ll bet you cheat, though. Right?"

Birkoff crossed his arms and waited patiently for Declan’s answer. This was better than television. "Yes, tell us, Declan," he said too sweetly.

"Look, little man, go away or something, okay? We’re busy," the clerk said, making her first major misstep.

Birkoff drew himself up to his full height and glowered. "Little--?"

"Actually, I’m with him," Declan explained.

"What do you mean, you’re with him?"

"We’re together."

"Oh, I get it. You need company? I got a friend for your friend." But before she could move to call her friend over, Declan cringed. Nikita was fast approaching. And the expression on her face did not look promising.

"Yeah, Declan, get someone for me, too," Birkoff said, even more sarcasm dripping from his voice.

The clerk saw Nikita, too. "Oh, you already got a girl? Thought you said you didn’t have a girlfriend?"

"I don’t."

"He doesn’t." Birkoff answered at the same time as Declan.

"I’m not his girlfriend," said Nikita sharply.

"Oh, then you must be the wife." The clerk began to backpedal.

"Nope, wrong again," Nikita said, a tight smile in place.

"But you’re with him?"

"Obviously." Nikita felt the baby kick and rubbed her stomach unconsciously, calling attention to her advanced stage of pregnancy.

"You’re pregnant? You louse! Trying to chat me up while your wife is ready to give birth at any moment!" The girl turned on Declan, looking something like a harpy with all those sharp edges. Between her nails and her teeth, she looked almost menacing.

"She’s not my wife!" Declan protested.

"And you didn’t even have the decency to marry her! What a jerk!"

Birkoff grinned unrepentantly. "Yeah..."

"I suppose all these kids aren’t yours either!"

"Well, no," Declan began. "I mean, one of them is."

"A likely story," the young woman huffed.

"Actually, most of them are mine," Nikita offered helpfully, trying not to enjoy tweaking Declan.

"You poor thing!" the girl commiserated.

"One of them is mine, too," said Birkoff, unable to resist.

"You’ve been with both of them?" The clerk was aghast. What kind of perverted relationship had she stumbled onto?

"My God! Esme! Come here, honey! They’re having a menage a trois right here in the store!" she shouted, loud enough to draw attention from passersby.

Birkoff wanted to crawl under the counter by the cash register and just disappear. Nikita wanted to thump Declan soundly for not clearing things up at the outset. And Declan? Declan was thoroughly sorry he had agreed to take Nikita and the kids to the mall.

"You know, you’ve got this all wrong," he stammered, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

"Oh, yeah?" she quipped, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Look, you came on to me," he started to say.

"In your dreams, buster. You’re not my type," she declared firmly.

"Well, you’re not my type either," he said, the beginning of a headache throbbing between his temples.

"Oh, yeah? What’s your type, baby? As if I didn’t know?"

"He is," Declan said weakly, pointing at Birkoff.

Birkoff waved quite cheerfully at the clerk, enjoying the way her mouth dropped open, revealing the wad of gum she’d been chewing too loudly. "Remember me?"

"You mean, you’re gay?"

Declan tried not to notice the small crowd the clerk’s shouting had attracted. "Um, yeah," he nodded.

Her eyes narrowed. "Thought you said you had a wife."

He nodded. Nikita smiled in a vaguely threatening manner. The clerk tried to sort it out one more time. "But it’s not her?" She pointed at Nikita.

Nikita snapped tersely, "Nope."

Suddenly Nikita lost what was left of her shredded patience, along with her last nerve. "Look, my husband is meeting us here, could we just move on?"

"Your husband? You’re both married to other people? Not each other?"

Nikita nodded.

"Wow," the clerk tsk-tsked, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth. "What could he possibly see in you? I mean, you’re so...so...old." Spoken with the perception of an 18-year old looking at a woman approaching 30.

"Old? OLD?" Nikita felt her brain burst into flames as her headache crystallized behind her eyes.

Without another thought in her head, Nikita punched the young girl in the nose, laying her out cold on the floor.

Declan was stunned. "I can’t believe you did that."

"Yeah," echoed Birkoff, looking as if he’d just had nails for breakfast.

"Neither can I. Damn, I forgot how much that hurts!" Nikita flexed her hand, wincing as she put it through a careful range of motion. "It’s been a while since I decked anyone."

Declan sighed. "You’re a bloody dangerous woman to know, Nikita Samuelle."

"Tell me about it," she laughed.

Birkoff interjected nervously, "Hey, I hate to interrupt your little mutual admiration society, guys, but how are we going to explain what just happened?"

"To who?" Nikita asked.

Birkoff pointed to the security guards rumbling to the rescue even as they spoke. "To them."

Declan winked at Birkoff. "No problem. Think fast. Get creative. Stay with me."

Declan approached the first woman he saw in the small crowd that had gathered earlier. "Wow, did you see that, ma’am? She just keeled over!"

The middle-aged woman agreed. "Yeah, she just went down like a ton of bricks," she said to the older woman next to her.

The older woman arched her eyebrow and nodded knowingly, her face mirroring her apparent concern. "That’s right. You know, now that you mention it, she didn’t look well right before she fainted."

A man in a black suit concurred with the older woman’s assessment. "She looked pale, if you ask me. You know these teenagers, always on some diet or another."

Soon the entire crowd was abuzz with speculation, none of it the least bit accurate. But that was the story they would tell the guards fast approaching as well as anyone else who would listen.

Cautiously, they gathered the kids and the strollers, making a slow but determined run for the mall exit. Suddenly Nikita came to a dead stop. Declan nearly collided with her, and Birkoff almost rear-ended Declan’s stroller. "What did you do that for?"

Nikita clutched her middle. "How are you at delivering babies, Declan?"

Declan gulped. "You’re kidding."

Nikita shook her head and indicated the puddle between her feet. "My water just broke."

The thought of delivering a baby in and of itself did not frighten Declan. It was the thought of delivering a baby in the mall. Where could they possibly go?

What they needed more than anything else was someplace flat. Someplace reasonably comfortable. Someplace with privacy. That last one could be a problem.

But wait...there was a small furniture store in the corner of the mall. Maybe that would work. Declan and entourage moved slowly down the walkway, Declan taking personal responsibility for Nikita’s safety at this point. She protested mildly, wanting to wait for Michael to arrive, but Declan wanted to get her settled somewhere. Fast.

"Nikita, you know the risk of infection goes up with every minute you’re not in a hospital. We’ve got to find a place for you to have this baby."

Nikita rolled her eyes. "You’re starting to sound just like Neil, Declan."

"Yeah, well, Neil’s a good man," he said gruffly. Nikita suddenly realized just how much Declan liked the older man. She wondered if Neil had any real idea of how much he had given Declan and Birkoff. Not only had he changed their lives forever, but he had managed to bring closure to a painful part of Declan’s past. Something he might never have had but for his intervention.

Declan spotted the furniture store, tucked away neatly in its corner, and headed that way. He immediately shooed the customers out of the store, and the manager came towards Declan with every intention of threatening him. Until he saw the glint in Declan’s pale eyes. Declan could be fiercely intimidating, when he wanted to be, especially if his loved ones needed protection.

"What-what’s going on here?" the manager stammered out.

"We’re taking over your store--"

"Please! Take whatever money you want! I’m not a rich man, but there’s plenty there! Just go!"

Declan placed his hands firmly on the manager’s shoulders. "Listen to me. You’re in no danger. We don’t want your money. We just need a clean safe place for this woman to have her baby. She’s already in labor."

The manager looked green. "Uh-uh, this is not a hospital, you know."

"We noticed."

Birkoff said, "Look, there’s no time for all this discussion. This is Nikita’s second pregnancy. Delivery is going to take minutes, not hours." Birkoff could be fierce, too, when his own protective instincts were aroused.

Declan settled Nikita on a buttery-soft, wine-colored leather sofa. "This’ll do. Sey, we’ve got to move the kids somewhere away from here, so they don’t get frightened by all the noise their Mom is going to make."

Nikita laughed weakly. "Are you planning on torturing this baby out of me, Declan?"

"Not if I can help it, Nikita." He forced himself to smile, knowing that no matter what Nikita said, she was not as calm as she appeared. "Sey, I’m going to stay with Nikita. Once the kids are settled, I want you to go back to the mall exit and wait for Michael. Otherwise, he won’t be able to find her and he’ll go crazy."

This time Nikita smiled, albeit painfully, as another contraction seized her. "You know Michael well now, Declan."

"Yeah, well, he’s a man after my own heart. I know I’d feel the same if something happened to Sey."

Nikita lay back, trying to will herself to relax in between contractions, but they were coming more frequently now, and with greater intensity. She panted, as she’d been taught, but control over her body was erratic at best. Declan took a comforter and a quilt from a nearby display and draped them over the front windows of the store, taking a moment to change the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

When the next wave of contractions hit her, Nikita felt her grip on reality starting to slide away. She felt feverish, and the headache that had her in its vise grip earlier intensified. Moaning in a low voice, she tried to grab onto Declan, barely managing to grasp his T-shirt. "I want Mi-chael. Please."

Declan moved from his place between Nikita’s legs for one moment, looking over his shoulder to the door. As if on cue, the bells above the door jangled tinnily. It was Birkoff. Michael was right behind him.

"Kita!"

He immediately grabbed both of her hands in his and kissed them, sinking to his knees at her side. "Are you all right?"

"I am now," she said hoarsely, knowing that if Michael was there, everything would be all right. How could it not be? They were destined to be together. Everyone said so. How could God tear them apart now?

He brushed her hair back from her face. It was already clinging to her cheeks in pale, wet tendrils. She was sweating with the effort of labor, flushed from her exertions. But she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. "My poor brave Kita."

His green eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Where are the babies, Declan?" Declan tried not to notice Michael’s emotional state. It would only embarrass him, and besides, if Declan himself started to cry, who would deliver the baby?

"Sey’s with ‘em. They’re way over there, in the back. I didn’t think they should be too close to the action, if you know what I mean," Declan commented dryly.

Michael smiled weakly through his tears. "Thanks." He bent over Nikita again, this time kissing her. "How do you feel, doucette?"

She grunted in response, then fell back against the sofa. "Okay, I guess." He kissed her fingers, and he felt her fingers clutch his tightly as another contraction came.

Declan shouted, "I can see the head, Nikita! Shouldn’t be too long now! Just a few more pushes!"

"You hear that, doucette?" Tears spilled more freely down Michael’s cheeks as he regarded his wife. Suddenly she grabbed a handful of Michael’s hair and pulled. But he didn’t mind. He welcomed the pain. It was real and tangible proof that he was here, with her, awaiting the birth of their third child.

She tensed, arching her back until she was suspended in the air, above the sofa, for long moments. Then she collapsed, panting, and it was nearly done. "One more, Nikita. One more good one, and she’s out."

"She?" Michael said.

Nikita rubbed Michael’s ear, just under the hair she’d grabbed. "It’s a girl?" she asked softly.

He nodded, feeling a strange urge to laugh. His emotions were fragmented, spilling every which way. He was not in control. But for once, he didn’t care.

She gave a harsh cry, and that was it. Her daughter was with them. Declan worked furiously to clean up the baby, making sure it was breathing, checking its color, and finally wrapping it in a blanket to keep it warm. "She looks just like you, Nikita. Fair hair. Blue eyes."

With that, Declan laid the new baby across Nikita’s abdomen. Nikita bit her lip, staring at her brand-new daughter in awe. "She’s so little, Michael."

Michael could not look away from his newest child. Another daughter. When he was in Section, he often felt that God had abandoned him. That was a major reason for him losing his faith. He always thought that a just God would never have allowed Adam to be wrenched away from him like that. But beginning with their escape from Section One, Michael had slowly felt that faith coming back, revitalizing their lives. The moment he looked upon the faces of the twins for the first time, he knew that God was back, if indeed He had ever been away. And now, He had blessed them with another daughter.

"She looks just like you, doucette," he whispered.

Nikita touched her newborn daughter’s face and wept. "She’s so beautiful."

Michael buried his face against Nikita’s neck and cried, too. "I know, love."

He wrapped his arms around Nikita and the baby, but he kept his face close to Nikita’s, his lips a hairsbreadth from touching hers. They were drawing strength from each other. There was so much love, it was a physical presence in the room.

"I love you, Kita." He kissed her, then resumed his vigilant gaze upon their newborn.

"I love you, too, Michael," she breathed, hardly able to catch her breath, she felt so overcome. Her fingers tangled hopelessly in Michael’s hair, Nikita smiled. He was still hers. He always would be. And now there was someone new, to share in the reflection of that love.

Their new daughter.

Declan motioned to Birkoff. Slowly, Birkoff approached Michael, Nikita, and the new baby. His face suddenly broke out into a wide grin. "God, she does look like you, Nikita! Congratulations!" He bent over and gave Nikita a quick hug, taking great care to avoid touching the baby or Michael.

But Michael didn’t mind. He would sit here and receive the congratulations of an entire grateful nation before he would stir himself to move away from Nikita and their newborn daughter.

Birkoff asked hesitantly, "Would it be all right for Faith and Chris to see that their mother is okay? They were getting a bit worried."

Nikita glanced at Michael for guidance, and he nodded. "Connor and Emerant are too young to know what’s going on, but Faith and Chris should definitely be a part of this."

Faith ran to her mother immediately, crying, while Chris hung back, his gait slow and unsure, as if he feared the worst. Michael held out his arms to his son, and Chris suddenly broke free of whatever anxiety imprisoned him, racing into Michael’s embrace. "Daddy!"

Chris looked cautiously at the newborn baby girl. "Is she ours? To keep?"

Michael smiled lovingly. "Yes, Chris. She’s going to live with us, like you and Faith."

"Does she know how to do anything?" In other words, Chris wanted to determine how useful having a baby sister was going to be. Could she do anything?

Michael’s eyes glittered wetly. "No, Chris, she can’t do a damn thing yet. But she’s going to need a big brother. You think you can do that for Daddy?"

"Okay, Daddy," he agreed. In other words, he could be the knight, and he would have his work cut out for him, protecting the damsels of the chateau. He was going to be a busy little boy.

Faith sobbed all over her mother’s chest, glancing only surreptitiously at the new baby. When her sobs finally quieted down, Faith took a longer look. The new baby was a girl, like her. "Me big girl now, Mom. Big sis...sis..."

"Sister, Fee," Nikita told her oldest daughter, resting her forehead on the little girl’s.

Faith considered the competition. She was very little. She couldn’t do anything. On the newborn’s side, of course, there was the fact that she looked just like her mother. Faith had a feeling she was going to resent that. But it was too early to tell. Maybe the baby would look up to her. She was the big sister. And Mommy seemed to think that was worth quite a lot.

Declan stood proudly next to Birkoff, his arm wrapped around his shoulder. "She’s a fair beauty, that new one," he whispered.

"Yeah," Birkoff tried to wipe away a tear without Declan seeing, but it was useless to try to hide anything significant from him. He knew.

"Hey...Sey...I’m glad you were here to share this with us."

"Me, too." Birkoff sniffled. "I bet you think I’m a total wimp now, getting all mushy over the baby."

Declan stroked his partner’s cheek with one long, slender finger. "What I think...is that you’re all heart sometimes...and I love you for that."

Chris was the one to break the silence that fell over all of them. "Does she have a name, Daddy?"

Michael looked startled for a moment, then smiled. "Yes, Chris."

Chris looked at his father in exasperation, as if to say, you’re going to make me pull it out of you.

Nikita said tearfully, "Her name is Skye." Everyone caught their breath at that. Such a pretty name. But where did it come from?

Declan asked the obvious question. Michael answered, as though this was something he not only anticipated, but relished. "Skye. Because she was conceived under the midnight sky at the end of summer."

"At the Wishing Bridge," Nikita added, her face soft with remembrance.

Chris looked puzzled. "Daddy, what’s conceef mean?"

Michael laughed and picked up his son. "Never mind, Chris. You’ll find out someday."

He slid his other hand into Nikita’s, feeling the responsive jump her pulse made when he touched her. Even now. Even after all the time they were together. "She has a middle name, too," said Michael.

Nikita looked surprised. "She does?"

Michael nodded. "You promised this one would be named after you, doucette. Her middle name is Nicole."

"Michael..." Nikita wanted to protest.

"Kita...I love you...and this is just a pale reflection of that love. Please." His voice softly compelling, Michael opened his heart to hers. Hear me.

Slowly Nikita nodded. "Her name is Skye Nicole."

Michael smiled. "Welcome to the world, Skye Nicole."