“Is your father at home?”

“Who wants to know?” Faith demanded, fully aware that she was being less than polite to a perfect stranger. But then, ever since the kidnapping, anyone strange was treated to careful scrutiny long before they were granted leave to enter the chateau.

“This is the home of Michael Samuelle, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

The visitor sighed in exasperation. Though he was usually a calm, even-tempered person, he found himself at a loss to explain the effect that one relatively tall, equally athletically built female teenager was having on him.

Trying another tack, he said, “Your father hired me.”

“To do what?” Faith asked.

He counted to ten and smiled placidly. “To teach the martial arts.”

“I don’t need any lessons. I’ve *been* trained.”

“In the martial arts perhaps, but you seem to be lacking a certain degree of, shall we say, discipline?”

“Shall we say, I can kick your ass and that’s really the bottom line, isn’t it?”

“There is more to the martial arts than fighting.”

“Like?”

“Eastern philosophy, for one thing. Do you have something against living in harmony with your neighbors?”

“We don’t have any neighbors.”

“I can imagine.”

Suddenly an older female voice rang out from somewhere behind Faith. “Faith! Who are you talking to?”

“Some guy,” she snorted, looking over her shoulder at her mother. Turning back to face the stranger, she said, “He thinks I’m a brat.”

Nikita smiled patiently. “Well, you are, sweetie, but we love you anyway.”

Nikita offered her hand to shake, relieved that the gentleman was not so offended as to refuse to accept it. “I apologize for my daughter. Her natural enthusiasm gets away from her sometimes. You must be Mr. George.”

“Yes, I am. Adrian George, at your service, Madame.” He bowed, and Nikita shrugged at Faith as she endeavored to duplicate the gesture.

“Adrian, huh? I knew an Adrian once,” she mused. “You’re *very* different.”

He raised an eyebrow, politely commanding her to continue. “W-well,” she stammered, feeling curiously like a new recruit facing Michael for the first time. “For one thing, she was a woman. You’re not. A woman, I mean.”

“Evidently.”

“Mom!” Faith rolled her eyes. “Okay, Adrian, stop intimidating my mother.”

“Or what?”

“Or else.”

“That’s hardly a persuasive argument, Mademoiselle.”

“You *talk* like you just got out of finishing school or something. Are you for real?”

“Your curiosity must be one of your best traits.”

“Hey, is that another slam? Mom, make him stop.”

“Would you like to meet the rest of the family, Mr. George?”

“It’s what I live for.”

*****

Nikita led the way into the grand ballroom where the family was gathered. Taking Michael aside as soon as she entered, she whispered, “Why didn’t you tell me that Mr. George was a bit of a self-righteous prig?”

Michael blinked. “Are you saying I’m not a good judge of character, Kita?”

“I’m saying that he’s nothing like what you said he was.”

“It was a short interview, doucette. I needed someone in a hurry, and he came very highly recommended. Do you want me to send him back?”

“No, it’s just—well, he makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Instantly on the alert, Michael’s entire body tensed. “Did he touch you? What did he do?”

Nikita hastened to reassure her husband that nothing could be further from the truth. “He didn’t touch me, Michael. He doesn’t even seem to *like* me.”

“I’m sure it’s not personal, Kita. After all, he doesn’t even know you.”

“Maybe he doesn’t like *women*,” she continued softly.

“I have excellent hearing, Madame. Would you like to know just *how* well-developed it is?”

“See?” she said to Michael, her face flaming at being overheard.

Michael quickly took charge of the situation, ignoring Nikita’s embarrassment and the martial arts master’s pointed question. “I see you’ve already met my wife, Nikita, and my oldest daughter, Faith.”

At the man’s nod, Michael went on, introducing everyone present, which turned out to be a prodigious task, considering the number of people involved. “Most of the older children know how to defend themselves fairly well. It’s the younger children I’m most concerned about.”

The austere looking Englishman carefully smoothed a hand over his thick, wavy blond hair. When he smiled, he didn’t look nearly as forbidding as he had before. In fact, his eyes twinkled, their color leaf green. “I love working with children. And I must say, they usually *love* me.”

Faith made a rude noise and muttered, “Speak for yourself, Snidely Whiplash.”

His head whipped around with a refined grace that enhanced his naturally elegant features. “I always do, Mademoiselle.”

“Faith, apologize right now.”

“No way,” Faith and Nikita chorused together.

Mr. George smiled faintly. “No need. I see the lack of discipline is most pervasive.”

Connor frowned. “Huh?”

Faith leaned over to whisper into his ear, “Now he thinks we’re *all* brats.”

Turning to her mother, she said more loudly, “Mommm, do I have to have lessons?”

“No, sweetie.”

“Yes, Fee,” said Michael, glancing at his wife in surprise. “She couldn’t stand to be a bit more disciplined?”

“We *all* could, Michael,” Nikita agreed. “But as long as she can do *this*,” she snapped her fingers at Faith, who obliged by taking down Connor without a scratch *or* a whimper. “I’m not worried.”

In fact, had anyone thought to ask Connor his opinion, he would gladly have shared it. He rather liked being laid out on the floor at Faith’s feet. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to him.

He tugged on her ankle, and she knelt down at his side. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, but I’d be a whole lot better if you’d teach me how to do what you just did.”

“I could, but—“ Faith grinned slyly at the newly hired martial arts instructor. “I bet *he* could do it even better. Couldn’t you, Adrian?”

Mr. George never called Faith on her continued use of his first name. He simply smiled back, surprisingly without guile. “Why, yes, that’s what I’m here for.”

That was when Faith realized that the man obviously had patience heretofore untapped. If he could go head to head with *her* for as long as he had, without snapping, he was okay.

Faith being Faith, she said so, too. “You know, you’re okay, Adrian.”

“As are you, Mademoiselle. As are you.”

A truce had been reached between potentially warring camps. Chris breathed a sigh of relief. There would be no need for him to intervene. He knew that Adam was the oldest, but he considered things of this nature to fall within his knightly duties. Luckily for him, Adam agreed. Adam could be surprisingly wise for an older brother.

“Oh, my God…” Derry raked her hands through her chestnut-brown hair, her silvery eyes squeezed shut in fierce concentration. She groaned helplessly as two large masculine hands grasped her breasts.

“Yesyesyes,” she chanted, so close to climax that she could barely breathe.

A hard male mouth ground against hers, its tongue insinuating itself inside where it could plumb the moist depths with abandon. A muscular thigh trapped hers. She arched her back, thrusting instinctively, and something warm and wet splashed inside the very heart of her.

“Oh, Jake,” she murmured against his lips, the sensation fading all too soon.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and she sprawled bonelessly across him, once more glad that she found love with someone who could match her, in size as well as libido. Someone who didn’t make her feel hopelessly big and clumsy. Someone who loved her independent spirit, but was equally at home when she needed to lean on him.

“I love you, Cassidy,” he said gruffly, deliberately using the nickname he’d bestowed upon her in Section.

"Mmm,” she said, luxuriating in the feel of his still-firm body under hers. His half-hard length slipped out of her and she rocked her hips against his groin. “You feel so good.”

“You little slut, you,” he said, chuckling against her neck.

“I’m not a slut,” she pouted. “Just deprived. We haven’t made love like this in weeks.”

“I’ve been busy, baby,” he said apologetically.

“I don’t want you to be too busy for us, Jake. You’d better keep me happy—“

“Or what, Cassidy? You’ll leave me?”

She giggled. “No, but I might sneak up on you when you least expect it and have my wicked way with you.”

He gasped in mock horror. “No, you wouldn’t! How can I sleep at night knowing you might take advantage of me?”

She buried her face against his neck, her teeth nipping lightly at the succulent flesh she found there. “Then you’d better take advantage of *me*.”

“Now?” he asked incredulously. “Darlin’, I’m over forty now. I don’t know if I can-“

Her teeth sank deeper into his skin, producing a feeling that was half-pleasure, half-pain, and went straight to his groin. “—I guess I *can*,” he finished in a breathless voice.

*****

Derry frowned. She raised herself up on one elbow and glared at her husband. “But why, Jake? The twins are almost six. I could handle it. I know I could.”

Davenport turned over onto his side, facing away from his wife. Didn’t she know how much he loved her? Didn’t she know that he couldn’t bear the thought of putting her through all that pain again? What if he lost her? He didn’t think he could live without her now. She was a part of him.

She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, only to see him flinch. “I know what to expect, Jake. I’m in better shape now.”

“You’re older now. It’s even more dangerous,” he said, almost choking on the bitter taste that rose up in his throat.

“I’d be careful. You’d make me take care of myself,” she cajoled.

“We’re not having another baby, dammit!” Davenport yelled, feeling a wave of hot fluid pour into the back of his throat. “Shit!”

He doubled over in pain, his eyes watering copiously. Grinding the heels of both hands into his eyes, he grimaced and tried to stifle a groan.

“Jake?” Derry sat up abruptly, uncaring that she was naked. “Are you all right?”

Davenport couldn’t answer her right away. Pain was blindsiding him. He grabbed his left arm and panted.

Derry screamed his name. “Jake!”

He couldn’t breathe. Sweat poured from his brow as yet another stabbing pain gripped him. “Jesus,” he whispered.

Derry bolted from the bed and pulled on a T-shirt. Unlocking the bedroom door, she shouted downstairs to her son, Jago, “Get Dr. Neil! Right now!”

The small but sturdy five-year old jumped up from where he’d been sitting at the table in what passed for a kitchen area. The gatehouse was small, but adequate for their needs. He reacted to the underlying anxiety in his mother’s voice and flew outside, heading for the chateau.

Derry clapped a hand to her forehead. The phone. Why hadn’t she thought of the phone? Sending her son halfway across the length of a football field to the main house was going to take too long.

Davenport was clammy and pale. Derry knew enough field medicine to realize that her husband was in danger of going into shock. Grabbing the phone, she dialed Nikita’s number, startled when it was picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“Nik, I need—“

“Hey, Derry! I was just thinking about you. Want to come over and meet the new martial arts instructor?”

“Nik, listen to me!”

“Derry? What is it?” Nikita shivered. Whatever put that much fear into her best friend’s voice was serious.

“It’s Jake! I think he’s having a heart attack!”

“Oh, my God.” Nikita put her hand over the phone and Derry could hear her muffled voice, apparently speaking to Michael.

“Derry?”

“I’m here, Nik.”

“Is he conscious?”

“Yes, but he’s…he’s…in a lot of pain, Nik. I’m scared.”

“Neil’s already on his way over to you, Derry. Don’t move him. Just make him as comfortable as you can.”

“I-I will,” Derry said shakily.

She hung up the phone and braved another look at her husband. “Jake!”

Davenport had passed out. His color was no longer white, but gray. Derry didn’t need to be a doctor to know that he was in bad shape.

Kneeling at the side of the bed, she pressed her lips to his temple. “Jake, please be all right.”

She pulled the sheet up to cover his nakedness, then buried her face against his chest and cried. It was only when her daughter, Kiarra, tugged hard on her right arm that she raised her head.

“Ma?”

Derry swiped at her cheeks with both hands before answering. “Yes, baby?”

“Da’s going to be all right.”

She looked intently into Kiarra’s eyes, so like her own and Declan’s. The little girl sounded certain. More certain than Derry was. Sometimes Kiarra seemed almost prescient, something Derry attributed to her mixed heritage. With ties to both Native *and* Celtic cultures, Kiarra could well have what Derry called “the gift”.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

Kiarra nodded solemnly. “It’s not his heart. It’s something else.”

Derry blinked. How could a five-year old have that kind of insight? Whether she was right or wrong seemed immaterial. Where else could she be getting her information than from…something mystical or otherworldly?

Derry took a moment to locate her clothes and get dressed, making sure to keep an eye on Davenport the entire time. He didn’t seem to be straining for breath anymore. That was good. Wasn’t it?

When Davenport stirred, Derry quickly stroked his cheek with her fingertips. “Ssh, Jake, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Hurts,” he said, wincing.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked directly into his daughter’s grave gaze. “Hi, Willow,” he managed to say. Davenport often called Kiarra by her middle name. It seemed to suit the little girl, physically as well as emotionally.

She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll be okay, Da,” she said softly.

And suddenly he believed her.

Neil stood over Davenport and glared at him. “You’re going to the hospital.”

“Uh-uh.”

Neil threw up his hands. “That was articulate. Derry, would you please convince your husband to go to the hospital?”

Derry shook her head slowly, a chagrined smile forming on her lips. “Neil, you know Jake well enough by now to know that no one forces that man to do *anything*, including me.”

Suddenly Derry lowered her voice to a whisper that nonetheless carried to Davenport’s ears. “Jake thinks that you and I will be in bed together moments after he gets into the ambulance.”

Neil stared incredulously at Derry for several moments before he trusted himself to even glance at Davenport. “If you’re well enough to contemplate another man taking your wife, you’re well enough to get into the bloody ambulance. Is that clear enough for your Neanderthal brain to process?” Neil said sharply, abandoning all pretense of being therapeutic. Therapeutic wasn’t going to get Davenport into the hospital and that was all Neil cared about right now.

Davenport slowly rose to his feet with a strong assist from his wife. He wrapped an arm possessively around Derry’s shoulders. The effort of standing had definitely taken its toll on him. Struggling to speak, Davenport managed a couple of words, making it obvious where his thoughts lay. “My…wife.”

Ignoring the twinge in his conscience, Neil nodded. “Yes. Your wife. Or your widow. Your choice.”

Davenport almost smiled. “You…brave.”

“With you almost incapacitated? Most assuredly. Now will you let me help you?”

Davenport took a shallow breath and winced. “Yeah.”

*****

Declan placed the cup of hot fragrant tea on his sister’s kitchen table. “Why don’t you let me cook something for you, leannan?”

Derry’s eyes stung as tears welled up, seemingly of their own volition. “Don’t you go being nice to me, Declan. I think I’ll fall apart.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“I *can’t* fall apart. I have two kids who are expecting me to be str-strong and—“

Declan pulled Derry out of her chair and into a snug embrace. Though she initially tried to evade his grasp, her heart was not in it. She gave in gracefully, burying her face in her brother’s chest. He held her while she cried, her weeping so silent that it tugged at his own harshly-won control. She was so much like him.

When she finally drew back, she wiped her face with the back of one hand and chuckled. “I’m beginning to see what Birkoff sees in you.”

Declan smiled. “You mean my manly chest?”

“No. You just…know how to be there without getting in the way. I dunno, really.”

Declan kissed her in the middle of her forehead. “I’m glad we found each other. Did I ever tell you that?”

Derry blushed and averted her gaze. Deep feelings still had the capacity to render her speechless.

As usual, Declan saw a need and filled it as only he could. “First things first. We need to get you to the hospital where you can be with your husband.”

“Who’s going to take care of the kids? Who—“

Like magic, Sey appeared in the doorway. “I hope I’m not intruding, Derry.”

“Not at all, Birkoff,” Derry said with a sniffle.

Declan turned to his lover and asked, “Can you bring Jago and Kiarra back to the chateau? I think it’d be less traumatic for them if they’re surrounded by the other kids as well as the rest of the family.”

Derry nodded her approval and Sey flashed her a genuine smile. It had taken years for them to become as close as they had, but there was no fighting with a determined Declan. He refused to allow Derry to accept him as her brother without at least a minimum show of civility towards his lover. Gradually over time, and undoubtedly because Declan was such a strong personality, civility blossomed into true friendship.

“I’ll get them.”

“Thanks, Birkoff.”

“Y’know, you can call me Sey, Derry. It started with Dec, but everyone else does it now. It’s okay.”

Derry shook her head. “Sorry, Birkoff. It’s what Jake calls you and I guess you’ll always be Birkoff to us.”

“Sometimes—“

The look on Sey’s face was so wistful, Declan released his sister to go to his lover. “What is it, acushla?”

“It’s just…sometimes Birkoff seems like another person, a whole other lifetime ago. Maybe that sounds stupid….”

Declan brushed Sey’s long dark hair away from his face and kissed his temple. “No, baby. That’s how it should be. Section was…a long time ago. It’s better to leave it in the past where it belongs.”

“Kinda hard to do when people like the Fannings show up,” Sey commented, his voice betraying his concern that they could never truly forget who they were.

And it suddenly occurred to Declan that forgetting who they were could be dangerous. Their training was their first and best line of defense. Without it, none of them would be alive to enjoy the lives they were leading now.

Feeling a sudden chill, Declan wrapped his arms around Sey, giving him a hug that reassured both of them. Glancing over at his sister, who looked more alone than he’d ever seen her, Declan held out one hand, beckoning her to join them.

When Derry approached, Declan grabbed her and pulled her into their unique three-way embrace, provoking a chorus of giggles from her and Sey. Jago, who often seemed far too serious and self-contained for an almost six-year old, inquired, “What are you guys doing?”

Declan smiled, his silver-grey eyes sparkling with life and love. “We’re remembering what it feels like to be a family, Jago.”

Sey rubbed his cheek affectionately on Declan’s shoulder and Declan ruffled Derry’s long chestnut curls. Jago bit his lip almost anxiously and stared at them, his bright red hair at odds with the darkness of his onyx-colored eyes. “Am I in it, too?” he asked shyly.

“Aye, of course you are.”

Jago’s smile lit up the entire room and made Derry believe in the power of love again. It could work miracles.

They only had to believe.

I want to see my wife!”

“Sir, you need to calm down.”

“Then bring me my wife! I know she’s here!”

The nurse sighed softly. Davenport was not a good patient. He didn’t want to be in the hospital. He didn’t want to be in pain. But most of all, he didn’t want to be separated from his wife.

“Please,” he whispered, his heart in his eyes. “I need to see her.”

Neil appeared at the side of the bed, his face grave. “You’re giving the nurses a hard time, Dav. You need to calm down. Your blood pressure is extremely high.”

Despite the countless times he’d faced death in virtually all its guises, Davenport found himself terribly afraid. Afraid he wouldn’t live to see his kids grow up. Afraid he wouldn’t see Derry again.

Tears gathering in his dark eyes, Davenport felt his hands shake as they clasped Neil’s arm. “Am I going to die?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Is it my heart?”

Neil shook his head. “No. That’s the first thing we were able to rule out. You didn’t have a heart attack.”

“That’s good, right?” Davenport asked hopefully.

“That’s very good, Dav. Now rest. I’ll bring Derry around in a half hour or so.”

“Why can’t I see her now?”

Neil felt an overwhelming empathy for the older man. Away from those he loved, it was understandably frightening not to have control over what was happening to him. He removed Davenport’s hand from his arm, but held onto it, trying to reassure him that he was safe.

“You’re going to see her, Dav. It’s just that Derry’s a little upset right now. She needs some time to pull herself together.”

“Oh, God, she’s all right, isn’t she?”

“She’s fine. Honestly. She just didn’t want you to see her like this.”

“She doesn’t have to be strong for me. I love her,” Davenport said softly, his voice breaking on the last three words.

“I know you do. Trust me. Give her a few more minutes.”

Davenport reluctantly nodded his assent. He wasn’t used to feeling like this. Weak. Vulnerable. Powerless.

After Neil left him alone, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but his mind continued to race, making that all but impossible. He turned his face towards his pillow and sighed. For the first time in a very long time, he felt like crying. But tears did not come easily to a man like him.

He lay there in abject misery for what seemed like days, but was in fact no more than fifteen minutes. When the door to his room opened, he raised his head listlessly, only to exclaim, “Cassidy!” once he saw who stood there trembling on the threshold.

Derry crossed the room in record time and sat down on the bed with great care. Moments later, her face crumpled as she burst into tears. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“For what, baby?” He longed to hold her, but he was surrounded by a maze of wires and tubing.

“I never cry,” she wailed. “But this is the third time today. First I cried all over Declan, then I cried all over Neil, and now….”

“Now you’re right where you belong, sweetheart.” To hell with the wires and the IV lines! He reached for his wife and settled her comfortably against his chest, feeling infinitely better with her in his arms.

“Are you sure I’m not disturbing something important?”

“Baby, the only thing that’s important to me is you.”

“I love you, Jake,” she said, a fat tear clinging to one luxuriant lash.

He kissed the tear away, tasting salt on his lips before he buried his face in her neck. “I’m feeling better already.”

*****

“Here’s the bottom line, Dav. It’s not your heart. It’s your stomach. The truth is, you have an ulcer. A large one. It’s bleeding now. That’s why you were in enough pain to pass out.”

“Can you fix it?”

Neil smiled wearily. “Yes, Dav. But I’m going to need your help.”

“Anything.”

“You’re going to have to rest for the next few days. To let things heal. That means a big change in your diet.”

“How big?” Davenport’s eyes narrowed.

Neil looked askance at the big man. “What happened to Mr. I’ll Do Anything?”

“He fell asleep. What kind of change are we talking about?”

“Give some people an inch and they take a—“

“I’m willing to try, Neil.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Derry’s silver-grey eyes glistened. “You’d better do more than try, Jake Davenport, or you’ll answer to *me*!”

Davenport sighed. The look on Neil’s face said it all. He’d enlisted the one person who could defy Davenport and get away with it.

“Is it going to be awful?” he asked, trying his best to look pitiful.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you, Jake,” she promised, a mischievous glint brightening her gaze.

“Sounds like you’re going to owe me bigtime, darlin’.”

“Maybe. But I always pay my debts.”

Neil held up a hand. “Why do I get the feeling we’re no longer talking about food?”

“My man’s got more than one appetite that needs to be fed,” Derry said, unable to prevent a teasing smile from curving her lips.

“Whatever it takes, Derry.”

“You heard the man, darlin’. Whatever it takes,” Davenport chuckled.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s a win-win situation.”

“Oh, yeah,” whispered Davenport, stealing a kiss from his wife.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable, Jake?”

“Honey, I’m fine. Now go do whatever it is you need to do.”

“You’ll be okay? I’m just going over to Nik’s. I promise not to stay long.”

“Stay as long as you want, darlin’. I’ve got a book to read.” He held up a paperback mystery novel that he’d been meaning to read for ages, but never seemed to find the time for. “And yes, I have the cell phone right here on the night table.”

She leaned over to kiss him and before she knew it, Davenport deepened the kiss, his arms crossing over her back as if he never wanted to let her go. As she straightened up, she rubbed her mouth with a fingertip. Her lips felt hot and swollen and thoroughly kissed.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” she warned. “Not getting fresh ideas.”

Davenport snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Like Neil’s suddenly an expert on sex.”

“You’d be surprised, Jake.”

Her husband blinked curiously. “I *am*, darlin’. But how did *you* become an expert on Doctor Neil?”

“Tsk, tsk, Jake. No more of that jealousy now. You have nothing to fear from anyone else. *Including* Neil.”

“I’m not jealous.” Yes, you are, he told himself sternly. “I just want to know.”

“Women talk, Jake. How did you think?”

“You talk about us? In bed? That kind of talk? Are you kidding?”

Derry laughed merrily. “Not at all. Nik and I have had some fascinating discussions—“ Davenport glowered at her. It was as close to real anger as he would allow himself to express.

Derry shook her head. “Not about you, Jake. About Michael. And other…men,” she added, a bit flirtatiously.

“What other men?” Davenport thundered.

“There *are* other men living here, y’know.”

“You think about making love to them?” he cried incredulously.

“Never!” she responded instantly, her beautiful features creased by a frown. “You’re the only man I want to make love to, Jake. Ever.”

Davenport started to relax, only to be brought up short by her next words.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about having sex with some of them.”

“You little--!”

“I’m teasing, I swear. Jake, if your ulcer’s going to have a chance to heal, you’re going to need to develop a sense of humor. Bloody hell, you’re beginning to react like Michael. Now there’s a man with serious written all over him.”

“I understand how he feels. About Nikita.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Davenport answered hoarsely. “I feel the same way about you.” He looked up at her almost anxiously. “Does that scare you?”

“A little. But I wouldn’t have you any other way. I love you, Jake.”

“I love you, too, darlin’. Now git, woman. The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back.”

*****

“Derry! You came!”

“Aye, I managed to escape Jake’s clutches just long enough to beg a cup of tea or two.”

“You have to meet Adrian. He’s the new martial arts master.”

“Interesting?”

“You have no idea,” Nikita drawled, trying to stifle a bark of laughter as her husband approached.

“Hello, Michael,” said Derry, unable to suppress an impish smile.

“Allo, Derry.” He turned to Nikita and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be outside for a while. I promised to play Hide and Seek with Luc and some of the other kids.”

“Michael,” Nikita admonished him, “don’t make it as hard as you did the last time. Let the kids find you a couple of times.”

“I’ll try,” he said, his eyes sparkling with uncharacteristic playfulness. He might never admit it, but he loved playing with the kids. Still he had a feeling that Nikita was on to him.

“Can Jago and Kiarra get lessons from the martial arts teacher as well, Michael?” Derry asked.

“Of course. Just speak to Adrian. He’ll fit them in.”

After Michael left, Nikita broke into a mischievous grin. “I’ll introduce you to Adrian. I think he’s working with the older kids right now, trying to find out what they know and how much of that is usable.”

When they reached the ballroom, both women could see that a class of sorts was in progress. Adam, Jazz, Sasha, Chris and Connor were lined up on one side. Facing them were Emmy, Skye and Faith. Adrian paced slowly between the two lines, looking more like a drill sergeant than an instructor.

Derry glanced at the two lines and snapped impatiently. “What is this? Pitting the boys against the girls?”

“It’s a useful exercise to—“

“I don’t care what it’s a useful exercise to do. Girls have enough trouble dealing with stereotyping as it is. We don’t need some man coming in here and perpetuating the bloody status quo, do we?”

Adrian smiled. It was not a happy smile, but a smile of resignation. A smile that did not reach his green eyes. “And who might you be, Madame?”

“I’m Derry. But that’s Mrs. Davenport to you, boyo.”

“Ah, the infamous Mrs. Davenport. I’ve heard rumors about you.”

Derry felt Nikita grasp her arm gently, her whisper meant for her ears only. “Derry, I told you he was *interesting*. Now play *nice* with the man.”

“What have you heard?” Derry asked, her tone as even as she could make it between clenched teeth.

“That you’re good. Brilliant, in fact. I’d love a chance to go…one on one…with you.” Adrian lowered his voice, using his not-so-inconsiderable charisma on her, which made what he was suggesting sound more like seduction than…martial arts.

“I don’t fight for pleasure.”

“Pity. Having you on the girls’ side would certainly even things up.”

“And what if I just happen to knock you into next week?”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Nikita struggled to hold onto Derry, but she could feel the younger woman’s body trembling. Derry had not unleashed her temper in a long time. Nikita wasn’t sure this was the time or the place, but she had a feeling that whatever happened, it was out of her hands.

“You’re on.”

Derry was light on her feet. Though she hadn’t sparred with anyone since she left Section One, she remained surprisingly agile. Perhaps, she mused, looking after two kids had something to do with that.

Her body, however, was still firm and muscular, thanks to almost daily workouts with Nikita. She didn’t mind losing her edge, if that’s what it meant to live a normal life, but she didn’t want to grow soft. Ever.

The kids were remanded to the sidelines with a cautionary word from Nikita. “Don’t, I repeat, *don’t* tell your father about this.”

Adam looked directly at Chris. “She means *you*, Prince Charming.”

“Actually,” Nikita corrected, “I mean *all* of you.” She gave Adam a pointed look. “Just because you have experience in keeping secrets, Adam, doesn’t make you the final authority.”

Adam stuck out his tongue at Nikita and Nikita frowned. Derry gave Adam a stern look and made a fist. “I’m not afraid to straighten *you* out either, boyo.”

“Jeez, you’re pretty scary for someone over 30,” Adam quipped.

Chris slapped Adam mid-chest with his open hand. “Knock it off, Adam.”

“You going to make me, kid?”

A distinctly Michael-like glint entering his light blue eyes, Chris merely shrugged. “Maybe. Someday.”

Emmy chortled at Adam’s obvious discomfiture. “When you least expect it.”

“Butt out, Em.”

Chris reacted without thinking. His right cross caught Adam across the chin and forced his head back. Adam landed in an ignominious heap on his backside. Rubbing his chin, he found himself staring right into the suddenly fierce gaze of his younger brother. “You can say anything you like to *me*. But don’t you *ever* talk to Emmy that way again.”

Adam blinked. He could mop the floor with Chris and Chris had to know that. Still he challenged him. For the sake of the girl he loved. A guy had to respect that, brother or not, he decided. He reached out a hand to Chris, not surprised to see Chris eye it suspiciously.

“You want help getting up off the floor?”

“No, kid, I want to shake your hand.” Adam knew he sounded a bit sarcastic, but dammit, his jaw ached.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re right, okay?” Adam almost shouted.

Chris smiled as Emmy wrapped an arm around his waist. “Think I should let him up?”

“Yeah,” she said, giving Chris a quick kiss on the cheek.

Chris helped Adam stand up, briefly wondering why Jazz hadn’t flown to his side the moment he was hit. Adam stood unsteadily and wondered the same thing. He glanced in Jazz’ direction, but the younger teenager wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Adrian watched the interactions with considerable interest. The dynamics of this particular family were as unique as they were complex. He could do worse than to spend several months here. “Ladies and gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, could we please clear the area for sparring?”

As Nikita aided Derry in donning protective gear, Adam sidled over to where Jazz was studiously avoiding him. “Hey, didn’t you care that I was on the verge of getting my ass whupped?”

Jazz nodded and tucked his chin into his chest, causing his hair to fall silkily across his face, effectively hiding his expression from Adam.

“So? What gives?”

Jazz mumbled something that Adam couldn’t make out. “What? I can’t hear you.”

Suddenly Jazz turned his head, his hair swung out of the way and revealed that his bright green eyes were wet. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“Embarrass me? How?”

“I didn’t want anyone to see me hanging all over you like I couldn’t control myself.”

“Jazz…everyone knows how we feel about each other. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Adam slid his hand beneath the collar of Jazz’ T-shirt and touched the necklace that he’d given him. “*This* says so.”

Jazz smiled faintly and touched Adam’s chin with his fingertips. “Can I kiss it better?” he whispered.

“I think you have to. It’s practically a rule or something.”

Jazz leaned forward and kissed Adam on the chin, only to have the object of his affection move so that their mouths connected, albeit too briefly for both of them. Adam chuckled softly and whispered into Jazz’ ear, “Don’t tell anyone but Chris has a mean way with a punch for a kid his age.”

*****

Everyone moved out of the way. Adrian bowed to Derry, his manner apparently genuinely courteous, and Derry returned the favor. However, she never took her eyes off him. They circled each other slowly. Derry bounced on her heels, impatient to show Adrian how much of what he’d heard was rumor.

Adrian beckoned with one hand, urging Derry to attack first. But she smiled and waited. She wasn’t going to play into his hands. He had a slight weight advantage on her, but they were almost evenly matched in height. This was as close to a real match as things could get, barring full contact.

The only reason Derry let Nikita put protective gear on her in the first place was Davenport. She had no doubts whatsoever about her own abilities, but in the event that Adrian *did* get lucky and managed to land a punch on her somewhere, she did *not* fancy explaining how it got there to her overprotective husband.

Adrian let fly a flurry of punches, obviously calculated to intimidate her. She ducked them easily and smiled. He had no idea who he was dealing with.

She threw out a sidekick, meant to take him down and out, but he grabbed hold of her leg and swept her to the floor. Evidently, Adrian thought that the fight was over then and there. But he hadn’t counted on her ability to fight from the floor. Catching him behind the knee with both legs, she forced him to give in or suffer a broken leg.

He reluctantly yielded to her, his expression clearly indicating his distaste that she’d won. Nevertheless, he bowed appropriately and said, “Your servant, Madame.”

“Are you?” Derry grinned. “I can think of one or two things you could do for me, boyo.”

Adrian sighed. He invited that one. “Yes?”

“Well, for one thing, could we please mix up this class? Odds are if they *do* get into trouble, the girls won’t find themselves facing other *girls* but boys. So they need to learn how to deal with that.”

Adrian was loath to admit it, but Derry had a valid point. He nodded in agreement.

“And I’d like my kids to study with you, too.”

That surprised Adrian and he said so. “But why?”

“Cause you don’t like me, Adrian, but you didn’t let it get in the way of what you were doing. You were fair. I like that. I assume you’ll teach my kids the same way.”

“Of course.” Adrian wouldn’t tell Derry, but he felt a grudging respect for the young woman. She was every bit as good as they said she was.

“Good.” Derry reached out to shake Adrian’s hand. There was a long pause before Adrian finally took it. But he did.

She yanked on his hand, pulling him into her space so that they were nearly nose to nose. “Just a gentle reminder. I don’t expect to have to prove myself to you or anyone else ever again. But just in case your hormones were screaming “rematch”, forget it. I wouldn’t like it.”

“Neither would her husband,” boomed a voice from somewhere behind them.

“Jake! What are you doing out of bed?”

“Just protecting what’s mine, darlin’.”

End