“It feels like Christmas all over again, Jamie.”

“Better, Pete. Cause you gave me something no one else could.”

Smoke sighed happily, no longer reluctant to openly hug James in front of everyone. “Jazz looks like he’s going to fit in, Jamie.”

James smiled warmly at his lover, his hands lightly caressing Smoke’s face. “I think what he did the other day went a long way towards making that happen, Pete. Walter can’t stop talking about what a great kid he is.”

Smoke chuckled. “Anyone who stands up for his Sasha must be okay.”

James agreed. “You’re right. Must be that bond between him and Sey, Sasha being his kid and all.”

“Speaking of Sasha, where is he?”

“He’s over there. With Skye.”

***

Sasha couldn’t keep his hands off Skye. He was constantly in motion, touching her hair, her shoulder, her hands, as if he couldn’t help himself. But he was careful to keep things appropriate. Sometimes it was hard to stay on this side of the line. But he made the effort because this was Skye.

“You ever think about…you know?”

Skye shook her head, setting her long fall of pale blonde hair into motion. Though she was unquestionably adept at reading his mind, she didn’t know what he meant this time. “About what?”

“The…um…future? You…and me….” Sasha felt his mouth go dry. “Together,” he finished hoarsely.

“You mean like when we can go out on a date and stuff?”

Sasha flushed. An image of himself and Skye, four or five years from now, standing so close together, they were almost touching, came into his mind. He tried to stop the image right there, but it was too powerful and he wanted it too badly. This…image…had no dreamlike quality to it. It felt real. He saw his older self kissing Skye goodnight. All at once, he couldn’t breathe. This was dangerous territory, territory they still had years to explore.

“Sasha?” Skye queried, a puzzled look on her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m great,” he whispered without really meaning it.

“So? Is that what you were thinking?” she asked in all innocence.

“Sorta. I was…wondering if you ever…um….”

Skye reached out with her small, slender fingers and stroked Sasha’s cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He fought with his hormones for control and won.

His dark chocolate eyes flew open abruptly, fixing on her beloved face. “Do you ever think about us getting married?” he blurted out before he lost what was left of his nerve.

She did. But she was astounded that Sasha did. She didn’t think boys ever admitted to those kinds of things. It was too…romantic. And God knows, few boys were interested in romance.

She nodded silently, and Sasha absorbed the picture she made, feeling as though he wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t a big moment in the overall scheme of things. But he cherished it just the same. Almost breathless, though this time not with excitement, Sasha realized that it felt like he had proposed…and she had accepted.

Sasha played with a long strand of Skye’s hair, twisting it around and around his finger nervously. “You’re going to be so beautiful, Ange.”

“So are you,” Skye whispered, knowing it was true. He was beautiful, her Sasha, cast in all the various shades of the Earth. His hair, his eyes, even the way his skin lightly tanned.

She stared intently into his eyes for long moments before coming to a decision. Glancing around quickly, she felt her heart speed up as she realized that no one was looking in their direction. “Beast…if you hurry…,” she bit her lip anxiously, “…you can kiss me.”

That rocked Sasha’s world. He didn’t hesitate for more than a fraction of a second. Gingerly he touched his lips to hers. Her mouth felt warm and dry, the kiss itself as chaste as church. It didn’t last long, and it was nothing to worry their parents. But it filled Sasha’s heart to overflowing. He would live off this kiss for weeks. Months, even.

He hugged her briefly, just so he could whisper in her ear, “I love you, Ange.” And she held onto him for a few moments, just so she could whisper back, “I love you, too, Beast.”

***

Sey poked Declan in the ribs, directing his attention to their son. “What?”

“Look at Sasha, Dec.”

Declan rapidly took note of how close Sasha and Skye were to one another. Within a minute or two, he registered Sasha’s heightened color, not to mention his ragged breathing and the possessive way he held Skye’s hand. “Tell me I’m not going to have to beat that kid within an inch of his life,” Declan muttered.

“He won’t hurt her, Dec. He loves her,” Sey urged his lover to understand.

“Kids get carried away every day, Sey,” Declan replied.

“You don’t see it, do you, Dec? Shit, I thought the romantic in you would get it right away.”

Declan frowned. “Help me out here, baby. What do you see that I don’t?”

“He’s got her on a pedestal every bit as high as the one Chris keeps Emmy on.”

“No way, Sey. You’re wrong. Look at how excited he is.”

“I’m not saying he’s not reacting to her, Dec. I’m saying he won’t step over the line. Cause he loves her. He’s got it bad. He wants the whole thing. The white wedding, the music, the works.”

“You’re serious.”

“Damn straight I am, Dec.” At Declan’s wry look, Sey had the grace to look mildly embarrassed. “Okay, poor choice of words.”

Declan ruffled Sey’s long brown hair, anchoring his fingers in the dark silk so he could pull Sey into his arms more easily. “I love you, acushla.”

“Me, too.”

Jazz turned out to be surprisingly adept at soccer. Something else he had in common with Sasha. For a child who had been raised almost entirely within the city’s confines, Jazz possessed true athletic skill. “Comes from running away from the drug dealers and the chickenhawks,” he laughed.

“What’s a chickenhawk?” Sasha asked with a puzzled frown.

Smoke glanced at James, who traded a meaningful look with Declan, but it was Sey who eventually answered. “A man who preys on young boys, Sash.” Though his tone was casual, Sey was sweating bullets inside. This was not a conversation he wanted to have with his son.

True to form, Sasha reacted with blatant distaste. “Ugh.” When he saw the amused look Jazz gave him, Sasha shrugged and added, “Sorry, but even the thought squicks me, man.”

“Then you’d be faster than me by now,” Jazz said with an impudent snort.

Sasha shook his head, sending his long brown hair flying in several different directions. “I’d be freaking invisible,” he said vehemently.

With a bounce of his head, he was onto a new topic, much to Sey’s relief. “Hey, man. Let’s play Da and Smoke.”

Declan started to decline politely, but Sasha’s next remark made him contemplate revenge on the young. “Unless you’re too old to play, Da. Huh? You too old to get it up for a good game?”

Declan glared at his son and wrenched the ball away from him with a low snarl of “Watch my dust, boyo.”

Jazz whistled as Declan kicked the ball so far past him, it could no longer be seen. “Wow, you move pretty good.” For an old man. Declan could almost hear Jazz thinking it. I’m not old. I’m just on the wrong side of mumblesnarfkle. Shit, when did that happen?

Sey’s hand found his partner’s and squeezed. Standing on tiptoe to whisper into Declan’s ear, Sey said, “You’ll always be my hero, Dec. No matter what.”

Declan’s storm-grey eyes searched his lover’s. “How do you always know the right thing to say, acushla?”

“That’s my job.” Sey waggled his eyebrows at Declan, and Declan caught him in a hug to give him a quick kiss.

***

The two boys found that it wasn’t all that easy keeping up with Declan and Smoke. What the older couple might lack in stamina, they compensated for with experience and inventive moves. But there was one thing everyone could agree on. It was hard work. Declan played every bit as hard as he worked, and he was determined to give the boys a run for their money.

Jogging back and forth, Sasha waited impatiently for the ball to come his way. When it flew by his head, he pursed his lips and said, “You’re trying to cheat again, aren’t you, Da?”

“I don’t need to cheat, boyo. I’m that good.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”

A moment later, Declan swiped at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. His T-shirt was saturated, and he was giving off a wonderfully musky scent that probably only Sey truly appreciated. All at once Declan grabbed the ends of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, exposing a fine chest and a rock-hard abdomen.

Everyone took a good look. Jazz grinned at Sasha. “Without his shirt, your father doesn’t look half bad.”

Sasha’s dark chocolate eyes widened. “Jazz, have a heart. That’s my Da we’re talking about.”

James administered a fair impression of the Vulcan nerve pinch to Jazz’s shoulder. “What did I tell you about being a wiseass, Jazz?”

Jazz protested, “But Sasha gets away with it!”

“I must have potatoes in my ears, Jazz, cause it sounded like you just gave me the wrong answer.”

Jazz shook his head mutely. “No? Did I imagine it then?”

“Sorry, Mr. McLaren,” Jazz said almost too quietly to be heard.

But it was a good starting place, and James accepted it. Smoke gave James a curious look, but said nothing. Declan murmured his approval. But as predicted, Sasha had something else to say.

“Aw, come on, Da, you’re going to make Jazz call you Mr. McLaren? How lame is that?”

“Keep sassing me, boyo, and you can call me Mr. McLaren.”

Sasha rolled his eyes. “You are so not funny, Da.”

Declan winked to take the sting out of his words. Truth to tell, he wasn’t sure what Jazz should call him. They were hardly close enough to call each other uncle and nephew. Yet Mr. Anything didn’t sound right either.

After knotting his T-shirt around his waist, Declan pulled the long softly curling tendrils of wet red hair off his face and into a ponytail that flowed down his back. Christ, he looked like something out of Braveheart, like some magnificent Celtic warrior come to life, all bare-chested and glistening with liquid sun.

Sey swallowed hard. He wasn’t jealous. He wasn’t. He just couldn’t help but notice how Smoke was appraising his lover. Sey glanced quickly at James and almost giggled at James’ reaction. James beckoned Smoke closer with a crook of his index finger. “C’mere, Pete. I want to show you something.”

“What, Jamie?” asked Smoke, blindly falling into James’ trap.

“This.” A few seconds later, James captured Smoke’s mouth in a kiss that gave no quarter and expected none in return.

“Oh,” Smoke responded dumbly, the heat in James’ mouth obviously transferred to Smoke’s pale eyes.

Now that was a heck of a way to get someone’s attention. And damn, if it didn’t make James look good, too.

Sey turned back to face Declan, who seemed to be scrutinizing Sey’s reaction to all this, too. Drifting closer in an apparently aimless way, Sey managed to hook his arm through Declan’s. Pausing to gaze helplessly at his lover’s bare chest, Sey said, “I’m not jealous, Dec,” heaving a great sigh immediately afterwards.

“Yeah, you are,” Declan whispered.

“I-I’m not…it’s just—“

“What, baby?”

“Maybe you could play the rest of the game with your shirt on?”

Declan bit back a bubble of laughter, experience having taught him that Sey still needed the odd bit of reassurance now and then. “But Sey,” he whispered into his lover’s ear, making sure to kiss his cheek on the way there, “they can look all they want, but they can’t touch.”

Sey buried his face against Declan’s chest, savoring the scent of him, the texture of him. “Mine,” he whispered for Declan’s ears only.

“Always.”

“The men are all outside playing soccer, Nikita,” whispered Derry conspiratorially, even though there was no earthly reason to whisper. “This would be a great time.”

Nikita grinned unabashedly. “I love it when a plan comes together,” she said with a waggle of her pale eyebrows.

Faith saw the women straggle into the living room, one at a time, and soon wondered what they were up to. She peered into the room, now filled with alternately chattering and cheering women, and it finally dawned on her what was missing. Daddy, Uncle Dec, Uncle Sey, and…and…all the other men. Including her brothers Chris and Luc. What on Earth was so fascinating?

She soon had her answer.

The television was on. Except for the kids, there was rarely anyone watching TV in the Samuelle household. It had been true years ago when the twins were but a couple of heartbeats beneath Nikita’s breast, and it was still true. But it was on now. What were they watching?

Nikita was sitting cross-legged on the floor directly in front of the television, munching popcorn. Derry was on her knees next to her, her hand reaching in to steal a kernel or two now and then. Close in age, she and Nikita had become fast friends. Madeline sat regally in an overstuffed chair to their left, while Miranda perched impertinently on the arm of the chair.

Emmy seemed to be avidly taking notes on something, and Faith figured that perhaps the program was school-related. No way. Faith’s mouth dropped open. Thank God Skye was off tormenting Sasha or something. Faith didn’t think she was ready for what she saw. She was all of 12, and she wasn’t sure that she was.

“Mom?”

Nikita jerked guiltily, her hand nearly dropping the container of popcorn. A fiery red blush stained her pale cheeks. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Why are you watching wrestling?”

Derry cut in with an excited chirp, “It’s WWF Raw, Fee!”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Oh, that makes all the difference.” She made her way to the TV and crept into Nikita’s lap, which was no easy feat considering how tall she’d grown. She popped a couple of pieces of popcorn into her mouth.

Nikita laughed and shook her head. “Guess our secret is out, eh?”

“What secret? That you like to watch men with long hair and tight butts deck each other?” Faith asked.

“Just what do you know about tight butts, young lady?” Nikita fussed. But Faith merely smiled. “We watch it for the action, honey. The adrenaline rush.” She didn’t need to add that part of her missed that feeling, that ball of excitement hot and nervous in the pit of her stomach. She knew Derry understood. It had been her way of life, too.

“Let me get this straight. You’d rather watch them fight and kick and bite and hurt each other than…you know…*admire* how hot they look.”

Nikita frowned. “I’m not sure I like you knowing what “hot” means, Faith.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. You’ll get over it,” Faith said blithely. Emmy covered her mouth and snickered as quietly as possible.

Nikita ruffled her daughter’s auburn hair. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dear.” She traded looks with Derry as if to say, You just wait till yours get to be this age.

Even Faith had to laugh to see her imperious grandmother cheering wildly, but she loved Miranda’s heartfelt reaction when her chosen champion won. She put two fingers in her mouth and issued an ear-splitting whistle. “Woohoo! Go, Rock!” she shouted shortly afterwards.

Faith giggled as Nikita clapped her approval. “Mom!”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I don’t understand why it takes so long to bring a guy down, Mom.”

“Well, honey, there’s a lot of skill involved.”

Derry snorted impolitely. “*Sometimes*. Sometimes they’re just putting on a show for the fans.”

“Why? Don’t they have any sense of honor?”

Nikita’s eyes widened at that particular insight. She and Michael had imparted their values to their children and here was the living proof.

“I don’t think this kind of wrestling is about honor, Fee. It’s just for fun.”

Faith looked dubious. “Why would anyone let someone beat the crap out of them for fun, Mom?”

“I dunno, Faith. That’s an interesting question,” Nikita chuckled.

They watched another slim-hipped, tight Spandex-clad wrestler climb into the ring with his counterpart. A minute later, Faith shook her head. “See? That’s what I don’t get, Mom. Why doesn’t he just kick him in the balls and end it, Mom?”

“That’s not allowed.”

“*Why*?” Faith exclaimed incredulously.

“It’s a man thing, honey,” Nikita said by way of explanation, expertly tabling that subject with a click of the remote.

Miranda groaned. Madeline peeked between the fingers of one well-manicured hand. Derry, on the other hand, felt no compunction about asking Nikita point-blank why she switched the channel.

“She’s a little girl, Derry.”

Derry grabbed the remote away from Nikita and changed the channel back. “She’s 12. That’s almost a bloody teenager.”

“She shouldn’t be watching something that—“

“That what? That provokes questions? You’re right here with her, Nik. In fact, you can answer them better than most of us here, I’ll bet.”

“When I was 12, I was practically living on the streets—“

“When I was 12, I was building bombs that freaking killed people.”

Derry didn’t know who was more shocked. Herself for saying it. Or Nikita for having to hear it.

“I’m sorry, Nik,” Derry said in a low, subdued tone.

She clicked the remote, switching the TV off, and quickly clambered to a standing position. Once up, she lost no time in leaving the room.

Nikita sighed. Faith looked after Derry for a moment, then stared intently into her mother’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to get Aunt Derry upset, Mom.”

“It wasn’t your fault, honey. Just…bad memories. That’s all.”

Faith looked as if she didn’t quite believe that, but she wisely said nothing. She knew very little about the lives her mother and her father left behind, and even less about their lives before that. She used to wish she did. Now she realized that what they didn’t say about those times wasn’t meant to hurt her, but to protect her.

Suddenly she threw her arms around Nikita’s neck and hugged her tight.

“What was that for?”

“Oh, nothing.” I’m just lucky to have you and Daddy. That’s all.

Faith followed Emmy, unconsciously stalking her, apparently without her awareness. But all at once, Emmy stopped. So suddenly that Faith nearly collided with her. Without turning her head, Emmy addressed the older girl. “What are you trying to do? Scare me to death?”

Faith shrugged, a sheepish grin frozen in place. “I wasn’t trying to scare you, Em. Honest. I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Must be important.”

“It is.”

Emmy inclined her head towards the soccer game, still being conducted quite loudly by what now seemed to be every available male. “They look busy. Should give us a little privacy.”

She pulled off her heather-grey sweatshirt jacket, folding it into a cushion to sit on. With a soft sigh, she sat on the grass, keeping something of an eye on the men yelling and flailing on the back lawn.

“What’s up?” Emmy was certain that she knew. She was a very intuitive little girl, not to mention precocious, a trait that seemed to run in the family.

“Before…in the living room…what Aunt Derry said….” Faith scrunched up her face in fervent concentration. This was hard.

“You want to know if it’s true?”

Faith breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah.”

“Well…Aunt Derry doesn’t talk much about…before.” Neither did anyone else, Emmy wanted to point out, but she decided that wasn’t exactly pertinent.

Faith hung on every word. She had never realized just how much she wanted to understand where her family came from. “What about Uncle Dav?”

“I think Uncle Dav and Aunt Derry….” There was an extremely long pause. Maybe Emmy had changed her mind about confiding in Faith.

“I think they almost didn’t make it out,” Emmy said, speaking so quickly, the words fairly blurred together.

“From the bad place?” None of the kids seemed to know what Section was called. But they all knew what they were referring to when they spoke of “the bad place”.

Emmy nodded. “Sasha told me stuff. But I can’t repeat what he said. I gave my word.” She crossed her heart with her index finger.

“I thought he didn’t remember.” Faith was more than surprised. She was stunned. She wasn’t the only one who would be stunned to learn that Sasha remembered more than he let on. For a long time, it came to him in bits and pieces, in dreams. Fragments that were almost indecipherable. Then he started to fit the bits and pieces together. Into a recognizable pattern. Sometimes he wished he hadn’t.

“He does.” Emmy’s lovely face creased into an unbecoming frown. “Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes, he has nightmares.”

“Ohh….”

“Does Uncle Sey ever talk about it, Em? Or your Da?”

Emmy glanced nervously over her shoulder at the men playing soccer. Declan was still actively participating in the game, his partner Sey clearly acting as referee now. Emmy almost laughed at the idea of Sey being objective enough to rule against his significant other. Now that would be funny, she thought.

“Daddy never mentions it. Never. Sometimes Da gets a funny look on his face, like he’s remembering stuff….”

“Like Sasha?”

“Yeah, now that you mention it.”

“Do you think that your Da killed people, Em?” Faith whispered. Just thinking the words was enough to give Faith an uncharacteristic anxiety attack.

Emmy’s face grew shuttered, her pale-grey eyes, normally the color of smoke, turning the color of sooty doves. “How can you ask me that?”

Faith’s breath caught in her throat. It was true then. She felt tears begin to gather in her eyes, and she was afraid. Afraid of what this meant. If Declan had…then her Dad…her Mom… Shit. All the color drained from Faith’s face, leaving her ashen, her eyes a vivid blaze of green against a pale backdrop.

It explained so much. The overprotective scrutiny of their parents. Connor’s abduction. That man in black. All of it.

And yet…. Faith continued to ponder. There was morality here. Honor. Valor. Humanity. She was more certain of that than anything else.

“Things are never black or white, but different shades of grey,” Faith murmured.

Emmy gazed at Faith in wide-eyed wonder. “Da says that.”

“So does my Dad,” Faith replied. “I think he means there is no such thing as good or bad. The reasons get all mixed up in there someplace, and sometimes, good people are forced to do bad things.”

Emmy smiled shyly at the older girl. “Then you believe that your Mom and Dad are good people?”

“Seriously? In their heart of hearts?”

Emmy bit her lip as she nodded. More than anything, she needed to believe in the sanctity of the family.

“Absolutely. My Mom is so sweet. I mean, she tries to be tough and all, but she can’t help being the way she is. She always sees the good in other people. Even when the rest of us don’t.” Faith’s face softened as she thought about her father. “But Dad... I could believe that he had a tragic past or something…but something must have changed him. Maybe meeting my Mom. Cause Mom sometimes calls him her dark knight. And knights have to be honorable.”

Emmy’s pale eyes lit up. “Like Chris.”

“Yeah. Chris is just like Dad.” Faith smiled. “But don’t you tell him I said so.”

Emmy giggled. She could keep a secret.

Derry collapsed against the wall, sobbing. She was so sorry. So terribly sorry. How could she have said something like that? In front of the children? The children must be protected at all times. It was an unwritten law. You joined the Samuelle extended family, and you learned their code of ethics.

Though it was bright outside, it was dark in the hallway. This particular hallway cut through the middle of the house, with doors opening into the various other rooms. There were no windows within the hallway itself to let in the light, so even during the sunniest afternoon, the hallway remained shadowy. Somehow that suited Derry’s mood.

“You get a hold of yourself right now, Daragh Cassidy! Do you hear me?” Derry addressed herself quite sternly. But unlike other times when this had worked its magic and restored her sense of control, it failed to have the desired effect. Instead, Derry buried her face in her hands, not realizing that someone was coming.

“Jake!” She nearly screamed her husband’s name when he came upon her.

“Derry! Why are you crying, darlin’?” A huge frown appeared, but even that could not mar Davenport’s handsome visage.

“I-I…oh, Jake, I did something terrible. Terrible.” Derry continued to weep, but Davenport gathered the slender young woman into his arms. For all her considerable height, she felt strangely fragile in his embrace. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Nearly choking on the words, she managed to stammer out an explanation of sorts, too upset to notice the alarmed expression on her husband’s face. “I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that, Jake. But there’s no way to take back the words! I wish I could!”

“Aw, darlin’, I wish there was some way to fix this, too. But when your brother finds out, he’s going to be—“

A muffled shout called the anxious couple’s attention to the two men ambling down the hall. Declan’s shirt was tied around his waist, his bare chest still beaded with fine droplets of sweat. His lover, Sey, laughed as he looked up and into Declan’s beloved face. Declan, having no idea what his sister and his brother-in-law were talking about, stumbled right into the fray.

“I’m going to be what?”

“Nothing, nothing, Declan.”

“That’s a whole lot of nothing, Dav,” Declan said good-humoredly, not immediately grasping that anything was wrong.

Suddenly Declan turned and got a closer look at his sister’s tear-drenched face. Derry looked quite a bit worse for wear, especially since her mascara started running down her face, leaving her to do a fair impression of a raccoon.

“What’d you do to her?” Declan asked Davenport, feeling more than a little protective of his sister.

“*I* didn’t do anything to her! She said something that—“

“That what, Dav? That pissed you off? Bloody hell, I ought to pound you right into next week for touching her!”

“You don’t understand, Declan!” Derry protested.

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try, you freaking—“

Sey practically jumped between the two men, who were glowering at each other with palpable fury now. “Hey, hey, maybe nothing happened, Dec. Maybe you ought to listen to what Dav has to say!”

“Maybe you ought to stay out of this, Sey!”

Both men moved closer to one another, and Sey could feel the animosity coming off them in waves.

“She’s my sister!”

“She’s my wife!”

“Get away from her!”

“Fuck off!”

Sey was too light to withstand the tugging and shoving that was starting to escalate on either side of him. His body was pulled first one way, then another, and he found it increasingly difficult to stay on his feet.

“Come on, guys, we can—“ Sey’s words were cut off by a sharp cry. A fist connected with his nose, bloodying it. “Owww!”

Sey held his nose, doubling over as both the pain and the scent of blood began to combine in some awful way. “Jeez, I was just trying to help!”

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Declan asked rhetorically, a positively evil glint in his silver-grey eyes.

Derry grabbed Declan’s arm, trying to pull him back. He would have shaken her off easily enough, but Sey added his own plea for cooler heads. Declan turned to speak to Sey, his pale eyes darkening when they saw the damage that Davenport’s fist had done. “You’re bleeding,” Declan said, looking very much like he was in shock. He reached out a finger as if to touch the blood, but Sey grabbed his hand and anchored it to his chest.

“I’m okay, Dec,” Sey said firmly, looking directly into Declan’s eyes, willing him to let this go.

Davenport struggled against his wife’s increasingly tense grip on his arm, aware that it would take little enough to break free, but knowing that he would not.

For long moments, there was only silence. Silence and then the soft sounds of erratic breathing coming under control and tears being held back.

Sey blinked as Declan took a deep breath. Without a word, he wrenched the shirt from around his waist, bunching it up to mop his face and his chest. His nostrils flared, the only expression he’d shown since he realized that Sey was hurt. Facing his sister, he said hoarsely, “Are you all right, Derry?”

She nodded mutely, her own face ashen in the aftermath. Davenport felt her fingers dig into his arm, daring him to say otherwise.

“That’s it, then.” Declan barely glanced at Davenport as he shouldered past the older man. Sey gave Derry a helpless look and a shrug before he left to catch up with Declan.

Davenport’s dark eyes apologized to Derry. “I—“

“Not one word out of you, Jake. Not one.”

“But darlin’, he was practically accusing me of abusing you. Do you know how crazy that makes me?”

“Do you know what it’s like to be abused, Jake?”

Davenport shook his head sadly.

“He does. What he saw…well, let’s just say, I can understand why he’d jump to the wrong conclusion.” Derry almost smiled through the tears in her eyes. “And dammit, Jake, I love him for that. No one but you has ever defended me before.”

Davenport lowered his head to kiss her, his mouth repeatedly brushing hers, so lightly, it was apparent that he was making amends for his earlier behavior. “I love you, darlin’. Can you forgive me for acting like a freaking caveman?”

Derry beamed. “Of course. You’re my caveman, Jake. And don’t you ever forget it.”

A couple of fond kisses later, Derry mused aloud, “I dunno if Sey’s going to forgive you too soon for what you did to his poor nose, though.”

Davenport sighed. “I’m going to have to grovel at Declan’s feet, aren’t I?”

“Groveling’s good,” Derry agreed, giggling before she placed another affectionate kiss on her husband’s cheek. “But begging’s better.”