“We were just about to send out a search party.” Olivia commented in a cheery voice that had nothing to do with whatever had been on her mind a moment before.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I mean even if it were just pushing Jolene out the door and saying ‘go find Nessa’, that’s still a search party, right?” The blonde woman put a bowl on the table and pushed a glass at Nessa. “You’d have thought somebody lit your new husband’s underoos on fire the way he was squirming around looking at the door every time someone shifted.” Olivia shook her head and grinned at Jarrett who was still staring at Nessa with his heart in his eyes.

“Why Jolene?” Nessa asked, sliding into the chair that Olivia pulled out with her foot, hands now laden with plates.

“Because that’s her job, isn’t it? She’s supposed to be the law around these parts and as there are no bandits or bank robbers to chase down, the least she can do is chase down missing wives.” Olivia said.

“Sorry, I–I was just, I…” Olivia shook her head at Nessa.

“I’m teasing, Ness.” The vet put her head in her hands. “Elbows off the table.” Olivia said primly. “Eat your fish.”

“You’re not my mother.” Nessa said.

“Nope, just your best friend, there’s overlap, eat your fish.” Olivia plunked down in her own chair and looked pointedly at the plates. “This is not revenge, it’s not best served cold.” There didn’t seem to be much one could say to that, so Jolene picked up her fork and flaked off some of the fish.

As always the food was excellent, but Jolene never felt quite as comfortable around the big table in Jarrett and Nessa’s kitchen as Sawyer did. Jolene’s husband–god she didn’t know if she would ever get used to that–didn’t even seem to notice, he talked animatedly to Olivia and Jarrett, even managing to draw Nessa into the laughter, though it was obvious that she was not completely involved in the story Sawyer was spinning.

And it was a funny one–she could wish, having met Ambassador Gavin, that she had been around when his horse had unceremoniously sat down on him. But Sawyer, as she had noticed not a few times before, had a way with words. Her smile was a little fonder than she expected it to be as Olivia threw her head back and made some crack about why the horse might have chosen such an inauspicious (at least for the ambassador) seat.

When Sawyer asked what she meant, Olivia just gave that knowing smirk.

“Well, where else would a horse sit other than on a horse’s ass?” She batted her long lashes over her brown eyes.

“Oh, cause I–” Sawyer broke off and glanced at Jolene.

“Sawyer! I’m hurt, do you think I’d tell off color jokes at the dinner table?” Olivia asked putting her hands to her chest in a great show of innocence.

“It ain’t never stopped you before.” Jarrett muttered into his glass of tea.

“Well, yeah, but the only one I could think of was a little too off color, even for me. Besides, even though Gavin is kinda a jackass–”

“Kind of?” Sawyer snorted.

“Okay, mostly, unless you’re a nobleman or otherwise useful.” Olivia dismissed. “And apparently bed companion isn’t useful enough.”

“You’re not!” Nessa gasped, dropping her mug. Jarrett caught it before it tipped over and landed on the floor, then patted Nessa on the shoulder, the creamy tan drained straight out of her face.

“God no!” Olivia said. “I’d almost rather sleep with my ex again. But that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t occasionally tried to scope a look at my tits and offer to show me his–weaponry.” The blonde shook her head again.

“He’s–he’s tried to look at your…!” Jolene honestly couldn’t tell if Sawyer started sputtering because he couldn’t imagine talking about breasts in mixed company at the dinner table or if he was sputtering because he was offended by what Gavin had offered.

“Well, yeah. They’re kinda nice if I do say so myself.” Olivia smirked again.

“I feel like an old matron auntie,” Jarrett said. “All I can think to say is ‘Well, I never!’ in a prim tone.”

“Well, you should,” Olivia smiled brightly. “It’s kinda fun.”

“But–I thought he was–paying court to Lady Fiona.” Sawyer said, his face suspiciously dark at the moment. “Or at least sort of trying to.”

“We may think he’s an idiot all around, but even he is not dumb enough to think he could get away with a supremely dumbass move like actually making a move on Fiona while she’s still Lock’s girl.” Jolene found herself nodding in agreement. He couldn’t be that stupid, not unless Archerglen was seriously trying for a diplomatic incident. “Or else mine are just better than Fiona’s.”

“Your what?” Sawyer asked, then colored and slumped in his seat.

“My those.” Olivia said blandly. “To his way of thinking, I’m a tavern wench, that means my virtue is negotiable and he just hasn’t found my price yet.” Jolene saw Nessa shift uncomfortably in her chair. “But that’s probably not appropriate for the dinner table conversation, so Ms. Quiet over there, how’s the wide world of crime?”

“There’s crime in Shadowcrest?” Jolene asked blandly.

“Sure. Why there’s fraud just walking the streets.” Olivia said, heaping more salad on Sawyer’s plate. He looked longingly at the fruit tarts on the counter before doggedly munching on the greens. Jolene’s eyebrow went up. “Haven’t you seen Alistair? He’s a huge walking dildo packaged as a human, how is that not a crime?” Nessa, who had been about to take a drink of her tea spit it back into her cup in a spew. While Jolene, despite her best intentions, found herself snickering. 

“I don’t think we can arrest Alistair for that though.” Jolene stirred a little honey into her tea, face thoughtful. She was expecting the muttered “Pity,” she was even expecting it from more than one person, she just hadn’t been expecting Jarrett to be among the mutterers.

Then again, while he tried not to speak badly of anyone, the big man was not Alistair’s biggest fan.

… Was anyone actually? She hadn’t spent enough time with Zahrah to know whether she was still firmly Team Jackass or not…

“Well, other than the fact that Alistair’s crimes are not the arrestable sort, Shadowcrest is quiet on the crime front.” Jolene finished right before Olivia glanced at Nessa who was pouring tea into a fresh mug, her eyes lost and a little moist at the corners.

“So, who wants dessert?” Olivia bounced up as if trying to distract them from the fact that Nessa was on the verge of tears. “Other than Sawyer.” The blonde patted Sawyer’s head and smiled. Jarrett looked at Nessa then at his hands.

“I–I…” Nessa started to say to Jarrett, then boiled up out of her seat. “I need a little air.” Olivia bit her lip but loaded her hands full of plates and the platter with the tarts and started doling them out. Jolene held her hand up and shook her head at Olivia’s quirked eyebrow.

To be honest, Jolene wouldn’t have described herself as a sensitive person. She was not the cop that was brought in when someone needed a child or victim comforted. She wasn’t the person who people unburdened their problems to or asked for advice. She wasn’t, really, even that great of a confidant.

So why she followed the cockamamie urge to follow Nessa out onto the porch, like she was Heidi (who was most of those things) and like Nessa would want to talk to her was anyone’s guess.

It wasn’t hard to find Nessa, though her dress blended into the twilight, her hair flamed in the moonlight like a beacon.

“Wanna talk about it?” Jolene asked, helping herself to the other side of the bench that Nessa was curled up on?

“I’m pregnant.” Nessa said. Jolene blinked, she was actually sort of expecting a surly sort of ‘no’. She bit her tongue on the ‘that was quick’ that rose immediately from the pronouncement.

“And this is bad…?” Jolene offered instead.

“I don’t know.” Nessa admitted. “If it were anyone but me? No. If I were married to anyone but Jarrett, again, probably not. But…”

“Well, I’m gonna take a wild guess and say because you only got married yesterday, and Kennedy’s not that quick, your pregnancy predates your wedding?” Jolene asked. Nessa nodded and sighed miserably. “Is it that you’re unhappy about the timing or about the being pregnant at all?” Jolene blundered on.

“It’s not the fact that the baby was conceived before the wedding.” Nessa sighed.

“Um–so–what is it?” Jolene offered in prompting, hoping the other woman would take the hint and start talking, thus sparing Jolene from asking any more awkward questions.

“I was hoping–because there are a few baby issues between Jarrett and me–cause of his children and I have my own problems there–that we could have–I dunno waited.” Jolene nodded in understanding. “But the thing is, I don’t think that we could ever have a baby that wouldn’t be born into a bunch of issues. Not with him, not with me.” Nessa confessed.

“Y’know, somebody told me that Sawyer and I would figure it out. And we are, kinda, sorta. I mean, we still haven’t–you know–done everything…” And wasn’t that embarrassing to admit? “But we are figuring it out. I bet you and Jarrett’ll figure it out.”

“I just wish…”

“Someone else told me–at least–I think someone else told me–that happily ever after is a cheap lie.” Nessa looked sharply at her. “It’s a long story.” She flipped her hair out of her face. “The reason I bring it up is, I think they were right, who wants to know how the story’s gonna end before you start reading it? If you could have all the answers, really–would you want ‘em?” Jolene asked.

“It’d make things easier.” Nessa said without answer the question.

“Not what I asked.” Jolene pointed out. Nessa winced a little. “You know, this bench is hard–and cold.” Nessa snorted and stood up. Jolene rubbed her rear, hoping it would just look like she was smoothing her skirt.

“You know.” Nessa said as Jolene fell into step beside her on their way back toward the house. Here’s where she’ll tell me that she didn’t know I could be sensitive, or encouraging or something. “I bet Sawyer would be perfectly willing to rub the cold out of your precious ass, Jolene.” Jolene gaped.

But it seemed like that used whatever confidence Nessa had, because as they walked up the stairs to the house, she seemed to go paler by the breath. What happened next, Jolene couldn’t really say, the door opened, Olivia was sheparding Nessa toward Jarrett and then a half moment later, she was sheparding Jolene and Sawyer out the door toward home.

—

“Do you know what that was about?” Sawyer asked, taking Nessa’s place at her side.

“Nessa swallowed a cabbage seed.”

“Oh…” Sawyer said. “Cause–Olivia said, she thinks Nessa–expecting.” Jolene folded her lips into something between a laugh and a smirk.

“Sawyer, sweetheart, that’s what the expression means.” Jolene told him.

“Oh.” The darkness and Sawyer’s tan skin hide any color change, but she’d guess he was blushing again. “Well, I guess…” He fell off into a familiar embarrassed silence that usually popped up around this time in these sorts of conversations.

“Can we talk?” Jolene asked, rounding on her husband as he pushed open the front gate to their yard.

“Uh, aye?”

“Do you–ever–do you wish we would?” She asked hurriedly, the words seeming to slur together in her haste. Sawyer tilted his head to the side, the feeling of his hazel eyes on her like a physical sensation. “Make love.”

“Well, aye.” Sawyer laughed a self-depreciating laugh that sounded all wrong for him. Her Sawyer was too confidant for laughs like that. “I just wanted to give you time–if that was what you needed.”

“I think you’ve been giving me too much time and understanding.” She admitted to Sawyer’s stare. “You’ve been understanding and I haven’t been understanding about what you would want or need. And that’s not very fair of me.”

“Well, but, life isn’t fair.” Sawyer admitted, as he pushed the front door open. He busied himself with lighting a candle.

“No–it isn’t, but we don’t have to help it along.” Jolene said. He turned and blinked at her for a moment as something hung for that brief moment in the balance. Sawyer’s tongue flickered out nervously slicking his lips and that, really, that simple nervous gesture was all it took to tip the balance.

Because in less than a heartbeat and a half–she knew it was just that long because her heart was pounding very loudly in her ears at that moment–she was in Sawyer’s arms, her lips pressed hard and hungry against his soft, warm, wet ones. He made a startled noise and she pulled back, all the guilt that had kept her from kissing him like that rushing back in.

“You don’t have do this just because I want to.” Sawyer said.

“Fuck that, Sawyer. I wanna do this because we both want to. If you’ve changed your mind…” It was hard to say if she trailed off or if he cut her off because they were just about simultaneous. His grip was a little uncertain as his hands found his way to her waist, and she was pretty sure one or the other of them was shaking.

But then her hands slid into his hair and there was no place for shaking or uncertainty, not in that moment. Later there might be regrets, or questions, or some stupid thing, but in that moment, they had each other and really, what more did they need?

Nessa paused and looked up at the sky for a long moment, it seemed exceptionally blue today, or maybe it was just her. She hadn’t noticed the color of the sky for a long time, probably since she’d left the circuit. No matter what color the sky was when she was with Mitch, it’d seemed gray. Since she’d come to Shadowcrest it seemed like she was to busy to really notice the color of the sky either.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true, she blushed, even though there was no one to see it, the street completely empty as most people were at their tasks at this point in the day. There was one day she remembered what color the sky was. But it hadn’t been blue. It had been the most vivid sunset she’d ever seen and that wasn’t just because she remembered it.

It had been the brilliant colors in the sky, reflecting off Lake Haven, that had made her lean against the split log fence and watch it. Jarrett had joined her at the fence and rather than heading back to the house, they’d hopped over the fence and sat down on the grass.

He’d been close enough she could feel him, but not too close.

… He was good at that. Judging where to stand, when to come close, when to back off…

Then he’d put his arm around her shoulder and it had been… perfect…

She smiled and ran her hand through her hair, feeling the silky strands slither through her fingers, it was weird–good–but weird, to have her hair down. Weird but good. If she had to explain Shadowcrest in five words or less, that’s exactly what she’d have used.

The sun had hidden behind the horizon, but it wasn’t dark yet when she’d felt something nudge her hand. A carved wooden box, Jarrett studiously wasn’t watching her, focusing on the stars sprinkled across the gathering night as she picked it up and opened it.

It was like something out of a movie, one of those moments that she’d never really even imagined for herself, not even in those innocent days before the accident.

“I know,” he’d said in that quiet, steady, deep voice. “I can never take away all the hurt, all the bad memories you’ve got. I know you can’t take away all of the ones I have. But–Nessa–would you help me make new ones–maybe better ones?” Her heart had shuddered to a stop and she looked for a long moment into Jarrett’s dark, dark eyes, seeing just a hint of chocolate at the heart of the black.

“Mornin’, Nessa.” Tate said startling Nessa out of her thoughts, causing her to jump. He reached out a tanned hand to steady her and she–somehow–managed to let him touch her arm without cringing and jerking her back out of her thoughts. Tate’s smile was half-hearted and scarred, it was a smile.

There was so much that she wanted to tell him–about how time might not heal everything, there would be twinges, there would be bad nights, but with patience, time, and good friends, it wouldn’t be so bad–someday. But the words just wouldn’t come, wouldn’t surface. So she smiled back and tried to put it in her eyes, her face.

“What brings you out this way?” Nessa said instead. Tate shrugged.

“I’m–I’m supposed to see Lady Kennedy once a week–cause–well, that’s what his majesty wants.” There was more to it than that, she knew it, but she couldn’t press, not when his wounded eyes could have been hers not that long ago. She knew enough. “And you?” He asked, falling into step with her.

“I’m here to see Lady Kennedy, just a bug, I think, a little under the weather.” Nessa shrugged.

“I know Sawyer feels that way too.” Nessa snorted a laugh.

“Mine isn’t just a hangover, I’ve been feeling this way for a while. However we’re supposed to report these sorts of things to Kennedy as soon as possible so she can work her voodoo.” Nessa told him. “But I’m sure that Sawyer is feeling his head just a bit today.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think Lady Olivia did it to him on purpose.” Tate said.

“Oh, I know she did it on purpose.” Nessa winked at him with a grin. “Really, never take up a dare from the person mixing the drinks. They know more than you do.”

“I don’t think it was just the dare, though.” Tate said. “Not when it was your and Jarrett’s wedding he was celebrating. Short of him and Jolene, I think you and Jarrett were the people he most wanted to see married out of all of us. He adores you both and wants you to be happy.” Tate blushed as if that was saying too much. Given that this was a seventeen-year-old boy, perhaps it was.

Nessa nodded. The only thing better than watching Sawyer standing up in Livvie’s tavern and making that long, slurred, rambling speech, with Jolene blushed red would have been watching Kian make one as well.

Maybe she was crazy, but, there had been–just once–when she’d glanced over the audience yesterday, but she would have sworn that…

Well, Fox had paused in the middle of his preaching with an odd look on his face. She wasn’t the only one who’d turned and looked behind them. But most of the faces turned back blank if a little puzzled. The ones that hadn’t had been the King–and Heidi, they’d both looked–not quite disturbed, but… something very akin to it.

All the eyes had rested on her then, because she was still looking back, it had looked like–seemed like maybe they were seeing what she was seeing. Only unlike them, she understood what she thought she saw. She’d know that lazy lean, those beat-up boots, that hat with the grin underneath to match the brim.

Had it really been Kian? Maybe she was silly, but if it had been something else, someone else, she’d gladly delude herself, she wanted him to have seen her so badly. To see her healing, to see her happy and light-hearted. But something had been there, right? The others had had to see something.

“Nessa?” Tate asked, his hand on her elbow.

“Oh, sorry, I’m just lost in my thoughts today.” Tate nodded. His lip caught in his teeth, his eyes lost again.

“I–understand.” He said.

“Tate!” Emanuel called from the back. “Nessa, I wasn’t expecting you…”

“Oh, don’t worry, Emanuel, it’s nothing to worry about.” She smiled at the apothecary who looked only slightly relieved.

“Kennedy, I think, is still handing out hangover advice.” Emanuel tugged at the hem of his shirt. “Your friend is a wicked woman, I’m told. Half the nobility and that foreigner’s aide have been here this morning so far.”

“I didn’t think Lady Vivianne drank that much.” Tate said in a quiet, almost embarrassed voice. Why–oh, yeah, the little maid at the castle who was sweet on Tate and the cook had both developed friendships with Vivianne. And if she thought about it, most of last night, Tate had spent with the girls.

“She didn’t.” Kennedy said from the deck. “It was the Ambassador who drank too much and wanted me to come make it all better. He just sent Vivianne to fetch me.”

“Obviously you didn’t go.” Nessa commented.

“I don’t need to go see him to know that he had at least four of those big mugs of that devil brew Olivia was slinging around yesterday. I wrote down the same thing I told everyone else who got caught in Olivia’s trap for him.” Kennedy grinned.

“Which was?” Tate asked curiously.

“Drink a lot of water, stick to something mild and soothing to eat today, and don’t be so stupid next time.” Nessa snickered right along with the others. “There’s no miracle cure for a hangover. What was that stuff, garbage can punch?” The doctor asked, her brow arching upward.

“No idea. She wasn’t serving it to me.” Nessa said.

“Garbage can punch?” Tate glanced at Emanuel who shrugged.

“It’s an old university recipe. Quite simple. Whatever’s in the cupboard, all poured into a big vessel, like a garbage can, and stirred up.” Kennedy chuckled. Tate mouthed an ah. She turned to Nessa. “I know why the kid is here.” She jerked a thumb at Tate. “But might I inquire why you are. You just told us that Olivia wasn’t serving whatever it was to you, so I doubt it’s your head.”

“Just a bug, it’s been lingering around for a couple of days, nothing serious.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Kennedy sniffed.

“You can see Tate, I don’t have anything that needs my attention for most of the day and I know the castle will fall apart without Tate there.” She nudged him with her shoulder and smiled. Tate blushed. Kennedy nodded and then nodded at the chair outside the office for Nessa to wait in.

—

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Kennedy said, shutting the door after Nessa.

“It’s alright. I think Tate needs to see you worse than I do, all the more because he’d never admit it.” Nessa told her, hopping up on the table in the corner of the office. Kennedy looked sharply at Nessa, but didn’t agree or disagree.

“So what’s this bug like?” The doctor asked, gripping Nessa’s wrist and counting softly.

“A stomach thing, mostly. It’s hard to keep stuff down, sometimes, but it passes, my back hurts and I feel a little achy, but not feverish.” Nessa said.

“Mmm-hmm.” She looked down Nessa’s throat, tested her forehead with a wrist. Next came the general pokes and prods of a visit to the doctor’s. Kennedy looked puzzled when she finished, something like suspicion playing across her face before shaking her head.

“You’renot sick.” Kennedy said. “Unless–Nessa, I have to ask…”

“…Yes?”

“Have you engaged in intercourse–say any time in the past six-eight weeks–prior to, I imagine, yesterday. Prior to these symptoms occurring?” Nessa’s face flamed but Kennedy’s eyes managed to drill into hers while holding only compassion.

“Y-yes.” She admitted, feeling the blush spread up her neck to her ears.

“Can I assume that it was not protected–or the old stand-by of coitus interuptus?” The doctor asked gently.

“No. No, it wasn’t protected.” She whispered.

“Right. Lay back.” Kennedy said. Nessa winced but did as she was bade. “Uh huh. Alright.” The doctor told her a little while later. “Why don’t you hop off the table and sit down here.” She patted a chair back as she made her way to the other side of the desk and sat down in a chair nearly identical to the one on Nessa took a seat in.

“Nessa, you’re pregnant.” Nessa felt her heart stop entirely, in fact the entire world seemed to stop for a moment.

“I’m–but!” Nessa protested. Kennedy looked at her. “Is there–is there gonna be any trouble cause–cause I–I…”

“Had a previous miscarriage?” Kennedy asked. Nessa nodded. “I believe, when we talked about that before that you said it was a situational thing?”

“Well, um, it was.” It was. And Jarrett would never throw her down the stairs. He’d barely raise his voice to her, even when they had the occasional spat about the animals or whatever. “But–but what about my hip?”

“I can’t proclaim that old injuries will have no effect whatsoever, I’m not an idiot and things do go wrong, but I think that if we keep an eye on it, and as it’s long since healed, you’ll be fine.” Kennedy said.

“How do I tell Jarrett?” Nessa whispered to her hands, not even realizing, consciously that she spoke.

“Well, I would imagine that the word pregnant–or baby–and the word I should enter somewhere into the equation, beyond that–I–couldn’t say?” Kennedy offered blandly. Nessa stared at the doctor and then began to laugh–and then she began to weep. Kennedy stood up and put a comforting arm around Nessa’s shoulder.

But when she caught her reflection in the window–she almost would have sworn it was someone else entirely.

Fox paused for a moment and looked hard at Jarrett. The other man didn’t seem to notice his presence, which wasn’t like him. If he’d been doing something like tending a skittish animal or something, perhaps, but never something like just raking leaves. That and he looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his mouth drawn at the corners.

Was he ill? Fox wondered, a thrill of fear snaking its way up his spine. He had no idea why Jarrett needed to talk with him, just that he’d sent Zarah past the shop. And pressing her for details was useless, she had all the staid seriousness of a kitten chasing a butterfly. And like most young things, an obsessive interest in herself only caring about others where they abutted her and her own self-interest. Surely, though, surely Lady Kennedy could cure any illness?

Jarrett wasn’t an old man for all that he seemed it sometimes. He was only three years older than Fox. Old enough that he could easily have resented having to start over. Could have resented it and no one would have blamed him for it. But that wasn’t like Jarrett, if he cursed and railed against the gods, he did so quietly with-in his own head and didn’t seem to let it stop him from doing whatever he needed to do.

Still, Fox had to admit to himself, if the plague had done nothing else, it had made them all far more aware of their own mortality. And that hung a lot heavier on Jarrett than it did on the rest of them, making him seem older than his six-and-thirty years. If he were sick…

“Fox.” Jarrett said with a smile looking up from his pile of leaves, finally, though the smile did nothing for the haunted look in his eyes.

“Jarrett.” Fox smiled, hoping that his concerns weren’t clear in his eyes. Fox had been a salesman far too long to not be able to read people and Jarrett more than most wouldn’t appreciate the perceived intrusion.

“I hope I’m not taking you away from anything important.” Jarrett batted the rake at the pile of leaves by his feet, shifting maybe half a dozen of them further onto the pile but otherwise the action was unnecessary.

“Of course not. I have plenty of time for my friends and the latest batch of cloth just came out of the dye vats and needs to dry before I can do anything else with it.” Fox said.

“Yes, but what if you have a customer?”

“It’s slow right now, pretty much everyone has either placed their orders or isn’t ordering anything at the moment. Besides Phoebe is tending to the shop and she’s better than me at any rate.” Fox smiled. “I swear she could sell a watering can to a raincloud.” Jarrett chuckled. Was it a bit hollow sounding? Fox closed his eyes and sketched a cross on his palm.

Some might have interpreted the gesture as being a ward against evil. But to Fox, it wasn’t so much a ward as a hope. A hope that the gods were with him and a those he cared about.

Jarrett didn’t seem to notice or if he did, he didn’t react. He was probably used to Fox doing that. Fox had done it so long that he wasn’t even aware of it half the time, like people biting their lip or tugging their ears.

“Well, I’m not glad your business is slow. I mean you’re in the process of making over your house.” Fox flushed.

“Aye.” Fox agreed.

“Preacher livin’ in sin, huh?” Rather than his face and eyes lightening with amusement, Jarrett’s eyes went dark and his face drawn.

“Actually, no. She has the master bedroom, I’ve got one of the upstairs rooms.” Fox said. “She says that marriage is a big step and that we should know what we’re getting into before we take that step.”

“Aye, I suppose she’s right.” Jarrett’s shoulders drooped.

“Jarrett, I know that you appreciate your privacy, but, I sense that all is not well. Would you like to tell me about it?” Fox asked.

“Actually, aye, I would, it was why I asked you to come by.” Jarret said, setting the rake against the fence, an action that caused Fox’s brow to arch upward, he never left his tools out. He followed Jarrett to the house, the older man hesitating at table, his hand reaching toward the chair Nessa normally sat in to talk before jerking back.

“Care for a game?” Fox gestured at the chessboard and saw, for the first time relief in Jarrett’s face.

“Aye. That–sounds good.” Jarrett said. The figures were lined up with precision on squares and Fox was contemplating his first move.

“Fox, I know you’re a good man, but have you ever done–that just–changed everything, and not–not in a good way?” He asked with a sigh.

“Oh, aye. I think we all have.” Fox said. Jarrett didn’t ask him to elaborate and he didn’t offer. Jarrett wasn’t asking for an anecdote as Blake would have been, from what Fox knew of his friend, it was more a question to put him into the right frame of mind.

“I still love Ivy.” Fox nodded and took one of Jarrett’s pawns. “But, lately, I’ve been–I’ve been thinking about someone else.”

“There’s no harm in that.” Fox told him.

“In that, nah, but, then the other night, I did something–I think there might have been harm in. After we left the castle after Hope was born, Nessa and I came back here–we–talked, well, more she talked and I listened. She told me–something about her previous life–about the man who–hurt her–and about the friend who tried to save her.” Jarrett took his bishop, but opened himself up for Fox to take his rook. The thread of conversation stopped as Jarrett pondered his next move.

If there was one thing any preacher got used to was when a man was making a confession of any sort, it was a long pause. Even those men who found words the cheapest were skinflints with them when it came time to admit a wrong.

“She blames herself for her friend’s death. And she had nothing to do with it, I mean, if we were all always to blame for not being there for a friend…” Jarrett trailed off and Fox nodded again. “I tried to tell her that things happen–that events are–bigger than we are–but…” Jarrett trailed off again.

“Check.” Fox said into the silence.

“I kissed her.” Jarrett said. Fox blinked.

“Is that supposed to mess up my game?” Jarrett chuckled as Fox hoped but shook his head.

“Actually–I–I did more than that.” Jarrett said. “We–um–,” He colored and looked away.

“You made love?” Fox asked when it was obvious that Jarrett was not going to continue.

“We–did.” Jarrett said, then fell silent.

“You know, Jarrett, the Gods have so much to worry about–a man and a maid, even those not in the bounds of marriage–probably matters very little to the Gods. You know, in some of the northern areas, a couple often doesn’t handfast until after the lass has missed her first course. It guarantees fertility.” Fox said causing Jarrett to blush again.

“It isn’t the love-making, Fox. I mean, I’d never taken a woman other than my wife to my bed.” Jarrett said.

“You’re a better man than many.” Fox said.

“But it was–never like that.” Jarrett said. “I never felt that way in Ivy’s arms, Fox. And now…”

“Now?” Fox prompted.

“I’ve betrayed a friend, a woman I care about, I’ve sinned, and I’ve betrayed Ivy’s memory.” Jarrett said.

“I think I missed something.” Fox said blankly.

“Nessa–She didn’t understand what she was getting into.” Jarrett ticked off on his finger.

“She did, I’m sure. You’re not the only one who talks to me, Jarrett.” Fox said when the other man turned to look at him.

“I wasn’t trying to–,” Jarrett cringed.

“Jarrett, if men only did the things they were trying to do–we would have no need for forgiveness.” Fox told him, shaking his head.

“Forgiveness? How could she ever forgive me?”

“She probably already has–if she blamed you to begin with.” Fox told him. “She has a great amount of heart.”

“Which she are you talking about?” Jarrett asked.

“Which one were you talking about, my answer’s the same both ways. Jarrett, Ivy loved you enough that she wanted you to go on. To feel again–to love again.” Fox said. “And Nessa, Gods above, Jarrett. Nessa! She wouldn’t have to forgive you, cause she’d never blame you and you know it!” Jarrett sighed and stared at his hands. Fox put his hands on Jarrett’s shoulders and looked at him for a long moment.

“The sin isn’t in doing wrong. Men do wrong. Men do wrong all the time. I think–the biggest sin–is not making things right. Jarrett, if you don’t make things right with her, then that is a very grave, very serious mistake and about the only way I see that Ivy would be unhappy with you.” Fox told him.

—

“Nessa–I–”

“Jarrett.” Nessa said turning to face him later that afternoon.

“It was my fault, I apologize.” Jarrett told her.

“No, really, it was mine.” Fox was right, damn him, how was he going to convince her…

“It wasn’t. I am to blame here.” Nessa started to open her mouth to refute it.

“No one is to blame here! It was good sex, damn it. You’re not supposed to walk around flogging yourself, unless you’re into that, which I’m sure neither of you are, crying “Mea Culpa!” You’re supposed to be walking around saying “you know, that was completely fucking awesome, when can we do it again?” Get your fuckin’ script straight and stop sounding like a chick flick.” Olivia said from behind them and they both whirled to face her.

“It was just sex, you know. People bone each other every day.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them. “Can things please get back to normal around here? Or close enough, I mean I’ll try to ignore any and all wall thumping if it means you’re both okay.” And just what did one say to that? Jarrett wondered.

“Livvie?” Olivia wouldn’t have thought she’d have fallen asleep so quickly after the evening she had. Worrying about your best friend, then coming home to find her not in her room–going into your other roommate’s room to ask if they’d seen her only to find them both naked in his bed–not exactly a lullaby and a warm glass of milk. But apparently she had dropped off fairly quickly.

“Mmm?”

“Livvie?” Nessa’s voice broke and she was wringing her hands together.

“I’m waking up, hang on, hang on.” She sat up and stretched, peering into the dark. “What’s up, sweetie?”

“I–I,” She cut off with a whimper.

“If this has to do with–where you fell asleep tonight, I know.” And would really rather not revisit the whole thing. There was something, no matter how much pornography you’d watched–or suffered through because you knew the evening was going to end with a request for permission to stuff a dick up your ass–it was a whole different ball of wax to walk in on people you knew–even if it was just post coital snuggles and sleep.

“Oh.” Nessa’s voice broke, Olivia patted the bed beside her and reached for the flint and steel to light the candles on the bedside table.

“Aww, sweetie, it’s not like I walked in on you guys gettin’ kinky or anything.” Olivia said as Nessa curled up in the far corner of the bed. Nessa flushed and played with her hair. “There ain’t nothing wrong with getting a little.” Olivia tapped Nessa’s knee with her fingers.

“I took advantage of him. He was vulnerable.” Olivia kept from dropping her head down and groaning by will and lots of it.

“Don’t pull out Jolene’s greatest hits, Ness. There’s no way in hell that you did anything to him that he didn’t want to do. You’re both adults, you’re both capable of saying no, and you both have way too much respect for each other to go ahead with the plan if the other one wasn’t on board.” Olivia told her bluntly. “Don’t make this angsty, Nessa, please. If there were a guy who hit my chimes like I know Jarrett taps yours, I would have tumbled him into bed long before now.” She rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Nessa for a long moment.

“Liv, I like him.” Nessa whispered.

“And you think tapping him will change that?” Olivia asked bluntly.

“How will he be able to respect me?”

“Because, sweetheart, the man doesn’t know how not to respect a woman.” She told Nessa who hung her head. “He doesn’t. And he’s not the sort of man who is going to blame you for the fact that you guys bumped.”

“How many euphemisms for sex have you got?” Nessa asked with exasperation.

“Not a clue. I never counted.” Olivia said. “But I’m not going to let you confuse the issue. You can’t go back in time and not have fucked, so you have to go forward–and deal with the fact that you guys hooked up.”

“Maybe…” Nessa traced a scar on her leg with one finger.

“No. Seriously, no. Even if it were possible, which I’m not sold it would be–if it were why wouldn’t Lachlan have brought Kennedy back in time, then gone back with her and had her fix the plague? Would you wanna go explain to Lachlan why you wanted him to try and send you back in time again?” Olivia asked. Nessa blushed again and stared at her knees. “Well?”

“No.” Nessa whispered again.

“And really, if it weren’t gonna make things complicated between you two, which is nothing new, not really, would you want to go back in time and not sleep with him?” Olivia asked.

“Livvie!”

“Was he that bad? I mean I would think–you know–not that you can always tell–but. Just, seriously, was he bad?”

“No.” Nessa barely breathed the word and though Olivia had heard it, she wouldn’t be herself if she let an opportunity like this pass her by.

“I didn’t hear that.”

“No. He. No.” Nessa finally repeated at an audible level.

“Was he good then?” Nessa shot her a black look. “Better than Mitch?”

“Mindblowingly better.” Nessa was blushed a charming shade of eggplant.

“See! Go back in time and change the bad sex, not the mindblowing stuff.” Olivia said with a chuckle as Nessa buried her face in her hands. “I’ll let you smack me for that if you can tell me you’re not hiding laughter at all.”

“I can’t.” Came the muffled reply. Good. There were so many things that Nessa hated herself for that Olivia just would not let her hate herself for this. There were a lot of things that deserved angst. Sex with a hot guy that you really, really liked, unless there was a reason that you really, really shouldn’t be with him, wasn’t one of them. Olivia shook her head. Too bad there wasn’t a Crestian who did hit her chimes, she could use a little mindblowing sex. The last time she’d been in bed with someone was with Justin–and that certainly was nothing to write home about.

“Livvie?” Nessa asked. Olivia blinked and looked at her. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, this is your existential crisis.” Olivia said. “I’m supposed to be cheering you up and telling you to not get all emo over sex with a hot guy, not drag you down.”

“Turn about is fair play.” Nessa said in a prim schoolteacher voice that started Olivia giggling, which started Nessa giggling until they both looked sharply at the wall that separated Olivia’s room from Jarrett’s and clamped their hands over their mouths. “If you want to talk about it, I wanna hear.”

“Oh, I was just thinking I could use a little sex that the word mindblowing featured in without the suffix ly and the adjective bad attached to it.” Olivia batted her lashes. Nessa giggled again then glanced at the wall.

“So you were thinking about Justin?”

“He does kinda attach himself to sex–and not in a good way.” Olivia shrugged. “Reason six thousand and ninety three why I never should have married him.” Nessa nodded in understanding.

“Well, maybe–” Nessa shrugged.

“I’m definitely test driving the next one before I put a ring on it.” Olivia said with a shrug. “Which you could look at your little adventure tonight as a test drive, you know, take it around the block a couple of times before you park it in your garage.”

“More sex euphemisms?” Nessa asked.

“I’m tired.” Olivia pointed out. “My mind’s kinda stuck in the gutter anyway, and any checks and balances I have on my mouth clock out about the time I put a nightie on.”Nessa blushed.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Hey, as my favorite coffee cup said “Being a friend isn’t about being there when it’s convenient, it’s about being there when it isn’t.” I don’t want you to think you can’t come sit on my bed and bitch about hot sex until the cows come home, no matter what time of the night it is.” Olivia said. “Just don’t get pissed if my mind’s one track–and that track is to Guttersville.”

“I’ll let you get some sleep.” Nessa slid off the bed and took a few steps toward the door.

“Thanks, Ness. You get some too. Don’t just go lay in your room and stare at the ceiling and feel guilty.” Olivia commanded as she slipped under the comforter.

“Livvie?” Nessa hesitated, turning around to look at her.

“Mmm?”

“Can–can I stay with you tonight?” Nessa asked, twisting her fingers again.

“Well, I’m not as hot as the last person you were in bed with tonight, but if you want to. Just shove those pillows over.” Nessa nodded and clambered back onto the bed, curling up next to Olivia.

Olivia had almost fallen asleep, was sure that Nessa was asleep, when she heard the other woman whisper. “Thank you, Livvie.”

“Welcome, kid.”

Nessa curled her legs up underneath her and glanced sideways at the sofa’s other occupant. The light from the fireplace caught in his hair, rendering it a halo of gold. His brown eyes, normally a soft sable were indistinguishable from his pupil. The scars softened by the firelight. She’d never sat like this with Mitch.

He’d always been restless, shifting, drumming his fingers, getting up to get a beer, belching, scratching himself, lighting a cig. Never appreciating silence for the sake of silence, he’d have flipped on the tv or the stereo, then raced through tv channels. But silence didn’t bother Jarrett much, they’d been sitting here watching the fire for nearly half an hour, the sound of the flames and the occasional swish of hair or the sound of whiskers bristling as Jarrett rubbed his cheek and neck.

“Nessa?” He finally tore his eyes away from the flames and looked at her.

“Hmmm?” She said, rubbing a sore spot on her neck.

“Why–I know–,” he faltered and looked back at the fireplace, a faint stain of red at his cheeks.

“You wanna know why I’m not all “yay! Baby!”, right?” Nessa asked. He sighed but nodded.

“I wondered if it had anything to do with your–friend.” Jarrett muttered toward his hands.

“Kian, no. He was the one who got me through it. But–no.” She sighed and pondered for a minute.

“You–don’t have to tell it–if you don’t want to.” Jarrett told her. “I know–I don’t always like–talking.” Here he was giving her the perfect excuse not to talk about it. But she found that oddly, she did sorta want to talk about it. Or rather, she sort of wanted to tell him, as Olivia never failed to point out, if anyone in Shadowcrest got her, it was Jarrett.

“Nah.” She shrugged. “I got pregnant–about five years ago. I-I lost the baby.”

“Oh.” He said fidgeting with his cuff. Oh, way to open up there, Nessa. Trying to get your picture by the word Terse in the dictionary? “Did it have something to do with horses?” Jarrett finally asked as she was trying to unstick the words from her throat.

She stared at him for a long moment. “Where did that come from?”

“Just–you said you didn’t ride anymore–you stopped about five years ago.”

“Oh. Well, not directly. It’s not like I got kicked by a horse or anything and lost the baby. It’s not that clear-cut, but you’re right, I haven’t ridden, not since I lost the baby. I don’t have the heart for it anymore.” Nessa admitted, checking Jarrett’s profile He looked sad–and confused.

“Riding was how I was gonna get out of my hometown. After my mama left my daddy, he shut down–and the only thing there was time for was his businesses. So, being the oldest I was the one being parent fell to. But I always felt like it wasn’t ever good enough. I wasn’t mama. My meatloaf wasn’t good enough, I didn’t double knot Bryan’s sneakers right.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t so good at school either. I mean I did okay, but my heart wasn’t in schoolin’. But I loved to ride. I’d come home from school–and I had two hours before my little brothers got outta school.”

“Once I was on that horse, god, it was like flyin’. So, one of my uncles, on a visit, suggested that I enter the barrel riding competition at fair. And I did pretty good, came in second. And my dad actually saw me–for once, he was proud. So I swore next year I was gonna come in first.” Nessa brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Did you?” Jarrett asked. Nessa nodded.

“Yeah, I think that first trophy was the proudest he ever was of me. After that my dad even hired a housekeeper, so I could focus on my riding. And suddenly I had something I loved that I could do well, and it’d get me the hell outta that town. So when everybody else in my class was packin’ up their cars and heading off for college or getting promoted at the Piggly Wiggly or the DQ, I packed my crap up in the back of an old dodge with a one-horse trailer on the back and hit the rodeo circuit.” She stared at the flame for a minute.

“Then–one night, couple years later–I was practicing by myself and I missed a turn and I fell off. Broke my hip and landed all wrong. I had to go through a bunch of physical therapy before I could ride again. That’s where I met–Mitch.”

“That’s the man that Olivia calls a corpse–,” Jarrett’s blush was so red, she could see it even in the dim light.

“Corpsefucker–yeah, that’d be him. I was young and stupid and I’d never met a guy like him–knowing what I know now, I’m positive that was a good thing. It got hot and heavy really quick.” She sighed but held up a restraining hand when he started to open his mouth, even without saying anything she knew what he was going to say. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” For once, she could say that–when talking about Mitch and mean it.

“I swore to myself the first time he hit me that as soon as I was back on the circuit I was leaving his ass. Then I found out I was pregnant. And that had it’s own set of problems. My hip wasn’t quite 100%, doctor told me to take it easy. That meant I couldn’t be training and I had an arrangement with the place where I boarded Almond Joy, to come do some horse training work in exchange for board for my horse. I couldn’t guarantee that I could find something like that somewhere else. So I stayed and Mitch came back around.” She leaned back, dropping her head back and staring up at the ceiling.

Jarrett said nothing, but tentatively touched her hand. Normally this was the last time she’d want someone to touch her, but something about his hand, bigger and as work-worn as hers, felt safe, comfortable. It reminded her of Kian, the the way he’d had of telling her that he’d always be there without saying a word.

“We got into a fight one night when I was about halfway along. He–threw me down the stairs at this motel we were staying in. When I came to at the hospital–they told me I’d lost the baby.” Her voice broke. “After that, I was hopelessly locked to the ground. I sold my horse–I couldn’t ride him anymore.” She stumbled to her feet and and toward the fireplace.

“Kian bought him. My horse. He was bound and determined to see me back in that saddle. And I always had an excuse, just like I always had an excuse for going back to that cocksucker. If I left him once, I left him fifty times. I knew he wouldn’t change. I knew it and I still went back.” Nessa said. She heard the soft creak of a floorboard and felt Jarrett’s arm wrap around her shoulder as she buried her face in her hands. “He wanted me to go with him that last trip south. He begged me and I wouldn’t go. And if–if I’d just gone, maybe I could have had the chance to save him.”

“What happened?” Jarrett asked.

“Kian–was gay. In the–I’m a man who likes to go to bed with other men sort of way. He wasn’t in your face about it–but he didn’t hide it either. I loved that about him cause he was just so take me or leave me. I ain’t changin’ for you. He was in this restaurant with a friend of his. And when he left, there were these four guys in the parkin’ lot, who took exception to him.” Nessa buried her face in her hands. “They beat him to death, right there in the parking lot of some shitty little road side diner. The one person who gave me hope that maybe this world wasn’t as fucked beyond belief as I thought it was–and these–monsters–just–took all that love and all that hope away cause he was different than them.”

“Oh, Nessa.” Jarrett breathed into her hair and she leaned into his broad chest. His big hand stroked her hair and her shoulder.

“I miss him–and all I could think about when they were standing there with the baby and teasing Blake was how much I wish I had gotten to hold my baby. How much I wish he could be here with me–joking and teasing like he used to.” Nessa said. “That makes me horrible doesn’t it?” She blinked the tears out of her eyes.

“How so?”

“Me-me-me it’s all me.” She said, pulling away from him.

“No more than me.” Jarrett said, lightly catching her arm a few steps later. “You know what I was thinking when we were waiting?” Nessa shook her head. “I was thinking about my kids–what it was like waiting for them to be born–what was like when all I could do was wait for them to die.”

“Yeah, but the plague just happened, Jarrett! You couldn’t have done anything.” Nessa protested.

“So did those men who killed your friend.” Jarrett said, his heart in his eyes. “And what makes you think you could have stopped them?”

“I…”

“Things happen, Nessa, sometimes they just happen. And no matter how much you want to stop them or change them, doesn’t matter. It’s bigger than you.” Jarrett said, his voice soft but fierce. Her hands, almost of their own volition, rose and cupped his face, his stubble, for all that it sounded bristly and scratchy was so much softer than Mitch’s was.

Their lips met somewhere in the middle, locking together. She made a soft sound and he started to release her. But she locked her arms around his neck, not wanting to let go, not wanting to let the world intrude this time. This felt more right than she’d felt in years–standing here with him like this–it was like, for the first time, it didn’t matter.

Not that it didn’t happen, but that it didn’t matter.

If Jarrett had to lay money one way or the other, the only person in the room of two minds on the event that had called them all here was probably him. Lady Kennedy might still have been of two minds on the subject, but she wasn’t in the room. And she was apparently okay enough that she’d sent the king back down to the Great Hall.

Raquel had gone into labor earlier that morning and they’d all congregated in the Great Hall to await the arrival of the first born Crestian since the plague. There was a part of Jarrett that joined the others in their joyfulness, their hopefulness for the future. This event, more than anything, signified that the plague was behind them. Their desperate scramble to breathe life back into Shadowcrest had worked.

A baby was being born and that child was theirs. He or she would be a Crestian. It was oddly like the coronation that Lachlan had never had.

At the same point, Jarrett had never felt so old as he did now. He was alone in having been where Blake was now, staring at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the table. Worried for his wife, worried for his baby, waiting and waiting. But all of the good feelings that were tied up in those memories were unfortunately also harnessed to the waiting and waiting of a more modern–and infinitely sadder–vintage.

Of staring at the ceiling and wondering if this would be the last night he would have his Rosie-girl, his little Frankie.

“Something wrong?” Nessa asked, leaning toward him and talking in a low voice that nearly blended into the buzz of conversation around them.

“Hmm? No.” Jarrett said glancing at her.

“Liar.” Though there was no venom in it, only a bit of–he hoped–fondness, she smiled at Lady Phoebe who was talking about something to do with some of her jewelery designs. She wrinkled her nose and winked at him before asking Fox a question.

“Does–does it usually take this long?” Blake asked, nervously twisting his wedding ring around his fingers. Eyes shot to Jarrett as if, because he had been a father, he ought to know. Or maybe it was just that he was older, or that he’d played midwives to calves, horses, baby piglets.

“My mother never failed to remind me that she was in labor with me for thirty-six hours.” Nessa laughed. “Thirty-six hours and twenty-minutes and fifty-seven seconds or something like that. The minutes and seconds tended to grow the more irritated she was with me.” Jarrett shot her a grateful look and she pressed her hand reassuringly against his.

“So have you thought about what you’ll name the baby?” Lady Phoebe asked Blake.

“We’ve narrowed it down. I had originally thought that we might name the baby after Raquel’s parents. But–she said she’d rather we didn’t.”

“What about your parents?” Ren asked. “Or your brothers or sisters, isn’t there that old legend that when people–,”

“Die?” Mistress Peyton asked. “It’s just a word, and everything does it. Only two certainties in life, death and taxes.” Ren laughed.

“Does that count?” Blake looked down the table at Fox. “I thought that it was only for…” He trailed off, eyes skipping toward Jarrett.

“I don’t know.” Fox said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“What is this?” Lady Phoebe asked.

“There is an old legend or wives tale or something. That when a child dies young, it may be reborn later to the same family.” Fox said. Jarrett felt his breath his in between his teeth, but no one else seemed to notice it, except a moment later a strong work callused hand gripped his just briefly a second time under the table. Nessa caught his eye and held it for a moment. He nodded once and she flashed something like a smile.

A wave of silence started as the door opened and Lady Kennedy stepped through. It moved slowly toward their end of the great hall, conversations dropping off. All eyes on the white linen bundle in her arms, Jarrett’s included.

Blake almost knocked his chair over scrambling to his feet as he realized what that bundle was. He looked terrified.

“I have someone to introduce to you, Master Blake.” Lady Kennedy said as she handed the baby to Blake. He took the baby gingerly, as if his fingers were clumsy and stiff and the child were spun glass.

“Did–did Raquel choose a name, Lady Kennedy?” Blake asked stroking the infant’s soft cheek, the soft coo seeming to echo from the rafters. “What–er–what is it?”

“A baby?” Lady Kennedy suggested sardonically.

“Of course, I mean–I know that–it’s uh–just.” Blake stammered.

“Kennedy, be nice, how’d you like it if someone handed you your first child with a it’s a baby?” Lady Tiffany said from the next table.

“I should hope that I wouldn’t ask that silly of a question–and if I did, I would have just been giving birth and would be excused.” Lady Kennedy said, turning back to the father. “Hope.” Jarrett blinked right along with Blake.

“Pardon?” Ren asked.

“Her name is Hope.” Kennedy said. “If that’s still too subtle for you, it’s a girl.” Blake looked at Hope for a long moment, then up at Kennedy, tears welling in his dark eyes.

“That’s rather–apt, isn’t it?” He asked. “Hope?” Lady Kennedy smiled, one that was surprisingly free of cynicism.

“Congratulations, Blake!” Ren said, thumping the young man on a shoulder–but with care for the baby in his arms. “She’s got your eyes.”

“Aye.” Blake said wonderingly.

“Now we just hope she doesn’t get his beard.” Mistress Peyton said with a laugh. Ren shot a dark look at his wife that just caused her to laugh harder.

“Raquel’s okay?” Blake asked suddenly, the tan draining out of his face.

“She’s fine, came through it like a pro.” Lady Kennedy said. “Will, I’m sure, be up long before I want her out of bed.” Blake smiled gratefully.

“So this is your uncle Ren.” Blake held the baby out to the blacksmith who seemed even more uncertain holding Hope than Blake had. “And your aunt Peyton.” Peyton waved at the little girl.

As the others gathered around the baby, Jarrett noticed a flash of red-gold moving away from the crowd. Nessa…

He slipped out of his chair and followed the flag of her bright hair through the mostly dark throne room and into the library. It would have been impossible to miss Nessa’s drawn in breath, the shaky exhale clear as it ricocheted off the panel walls.

“Nessa?” He asked, only then realizing that maybe the reason she had left was because she wanted to be alone. She turned back toward him, something on her face that he couldn’t read. The veterinarian shrugged, a faint lift of the lips as an excuse for a smile.

“It’s been a long day?” Jarrett offered. Nessa stared at him for a moment, then nodded in agreement, her eyes looking more lost than he’d ever seen them. “I bet Blake wouldn’t mind if we called it an early night.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nessa’s voice was wooden and she fell silently into step behind him, seeming to almost use him as a shield as they entered the Great Hall.

“She’s a baby, not a priceless antique, as long as the words ‘go long’ do not enter the conversation she’ll be fine.” Mistress Peyton was saying as they edged into the room.

Nessa stopped and murmured something at Blake and at Olivia, so by the time that they arrived at the door out, it was pretty apparent they were heading off for the night. The king stood in their path but after a look at Nessa simply offered her a hug and accepted her murmured apology.

“You think they’ll forgive us for skipping out?” Nessa murmured, the chill air thick with the smell of autumn leaves.

“If they really notice we’re gone, probably.” Jarrett said.

“Hope, it really is kind of an apt name, isn’t it?” Nessa offered as they walked past the windows, Mistress Peyton holding baby Hope and talking with Lady Heidi and Lady Fiona.

“Names have a way of being surprisingly apt sometimes. We–we named my daughter Rosie–she–had auburn hair–but she grew up to be a lot like a rose.” He offered.

“Yeah, I think about it, sometimes, what I might name my children–if–if I ever have the chance to have any.” Nessa sighed again and hugged her arms to her chest.

“Oh?” He asked, wondering if that was prying or encouraging.

“Kian–definitely–if I ever had a boy.” She smiled sadly.

“Kian?” Jarrett asked, then regretted it as her face fell.

“Someone–very important to me was named that. He was my–best friend doesn’t even cover it. I used to call him my guardian angel. Cause he was, he was always there for me. I didn’t even have to say anything. No matter how fucked up Mitch left me, he’d be there with a pack of beers and a bag of Ol’ Red’s pork rinds. Just like magic. I think–of everything I regret–the fact that I couldn’t save him like he saved me–is my biggest one.” She said shivering a little as the breeze picked up and moaned through the trees. “I never even got to tell him how much he meant to me.”

“I–dunno about where you’re from–but they always told me that they know–the people you love like that–they know.”

“You know, I’m glad that I’ve got a chance to talk to you by myself, Zahrah.” Sawyer said giving his most disarming grin. Zahrah rolled her eyes.

“You’re married now, Sawyer. And your wife is jealous.” Zahrah told him. His brow went upward.

“She is?” Sawyer asked.

“That’s what everyone says and they do know her better than I do.” Zahrah shrugged.

“And to think just a couple of weeks ago she was still throwing me at other women. If it wouldn’t scandalize the entire country, I think she’d still be throwing me at other women.” Zahrah paused in midstep and stared.

“But you’re married.” She put her foot down on the ground.

“Aye.” He nodded.

“But–what are the divorce laws like here in Shadowcrest?”

“I–don’t know.” Sawyer said. “It’s not the divorce, really, it’s the annulment that’s usually a problem.”

“What’s the difference?” If she was going to have to get married as a teenager, maybe it would be better to know this now. Though she’d hope that if she got married it would be for love and to someone who she would never, ever want to divorce.

“Between an annulment and a divorce?”

“No. I mean how hard is it to get an annulment over a divorce.”

“Depends. Depends on the priest, depends on the kingdom, depends on if your marriage has been consummated.” Sawyer told her. “I think if we were really miserable, both Lord Gray and King Lachlan would give us a divorce.”

“So, it’d only be the consummation that would be a problem for you and Jolene?” Zahrah asked only to see Sawyer’s eyes drop to the cobblestone he was kicking at. “Sawyer? You–you guys haven’t–done it?” A flush crawled up his cheeks and over his ears as he continued to stare at the ground.

“She needs more time.” Sawyer whispered.

“Wow, cause if I was with a guy as hot as you–I think I’d have a hard time waiting til the wedding.” Zahrah exclaimed. Sawyer drew his hazel eyes up and looked hard at her.

“You–you think I’m–attractive?” Sawyer asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Hell yeah.” Zahrah said. “Most of you guys are. I mean, Emanuel is a bit mopey and emo for my taste, And Jarrett’s just–I don’t know how you could be attracted to him. And I mean, Lord Gray is kinda–I mean you just can’t entertain fantasies about him. There’s nothing there to work with if you spent five minutes in his company. But you’re very good looking.”

“What about Tate?” Sawyer asked after a moment’s quiet.

“He’s–cute.” She bit her lip.

“Cute?” Sawyer asked. “In what way?”

“Well, you know, cute, like Alistair’s puppy, or the new foal, or the baby chicks.” Zahrah cocked her head to the side. “How else could he be cute?”

“Like an attractive guy is cute?” Maybe Sawyer meant it as a statement, but it definitely went up in pitch as if he weren’t sure. Zahrah must have looked puzzled. “I’ve heard Lady Fiona telling Lady Jennica that King Lachlan is ‘cute’, which sounds different than when Lady Heidi or Jolene would tell me I was cute. The former sounds like someone you’re–what’s Mistress Peyton say ‘in to”? The latter was definitely baby chick cute.”

“Oh, well, it’s not that Tate’s not kinda hot. He’s just–he’s not swoon-worthy. He’s so boy-next-door.” Zahrah tossed her hair. “It’s not that I don’t like him–but he’s like best friend material. Sweet, kind, the guy you can depend on,” She listed.

“You make that sound like a bad thing. Mistress Raquel says the same thing about Blake, only it doesn’t sound bad when she says it.” Sawyer said.

“I don’t mean it bad.” Zahrah said. She chewed on her cheek for a moment trying to think. “It’s just–he’s like the actor you see in a movie that always does a great job, and you enjoy seeing him in the movie. But he’s not the leading man. He’s not the one you go to the movie for. He’s not the one you daydream over. He’s not the one you spend all weekend cutting pictures out of your magazines of.”

“And Alistair is the ‘leading man’?” Sawyer asked.

“C’mon, why is everyone so down on Alistair. He can be a really great guy if you get to know him!” Zahrah found her bottom lip pushing out into a pout. Seriously, it was totally like a movie, she was the only one who could see past his outside to the sweet guy he was underneath that.

“Maybe we do know him.” Sawyer muttered before turning to resume his path toward the house that Nessa, Jarrett, and Olivia shared. “Morning, Nessa!” He called as she stepped out onto the small front porch. “You’re looking particularly lovely this morning.”

“Sawyer, your flattery will get you nowhere.”

“But you do! Doesn’t she?” Sawyer asked turning toward Zahrah again.

“Her–your hair looks nice.” She didn’t understand Nessa. She was so much prettier when she put a little effort into her appearance. Most of the time she didn’t do anything more than pull her beautiful strawberry gold hair back in a completely unflattering braid or knot.

Between Kennedy, Jennica, and Emanuel it wasn’t like they didn’t have cosmetics around to be worn. But she was pretty sure the only time she’d seen anything on Nessa was at Jolene’s wedding. She didn’t even attempt to cover the scars on her face or give you anything else to focus on.

The looser hair was marginally more flattering.

“Okay, Liv, you win this one.” Nessa called back in the house, a laugh drifting out in response on the late summer breeze.

“Goody! I adore winning.”

“And I’ve resigned myself to not winning.” Nessa said dryly, Sawyer laughed as he followed her into the house. Zahrah followed Sawyer, knowing she shouldn’t, he was married but he had a very cute, tight butt under those hose and the fabric left very little to the imagination and it was kind of distracting, really.

“So, you ready to head up now?” Jarrett asked standing up from the table.

“Just about.” Sawyer said, turning to Zahrah, who was still lingering in the doorway. “You know, exciting isn’t always better. Fires, floods, and animal stampedes are all kind of exciting, that doesn’t mean they’re good.” What? Why was he going all Yoda all of a sudden? But he apparently wasn’t going to explain because he just nodded to her, bowed to Nessa and Olivia and followed Jarrett out the door.

“So you never finished telling me what he said.” Nessa said to Olivia who put down the needle she was using to weave with.

“Oh–you know him. King of the backhanded compliment. He asked me if I always put on weight in my ass because it was looking better these days.” Olivia tossed her hair over her shoulder and looked at her backside.

“Well, what did you expect, he’s not exactly Shakespeare.” Nessa said. “And your ass looks fine, Liv.”

“That’s cause you don’t have to see me naked.” Olivia retorted dryly. “Then again no one else does either, so I guess I can live with it.”

—

Afternoons like this, soft and sweet like warm honey, were just too rare to spend cooped up in the house helping bake pastries. And even a hard task master like Olivia realized that the heart wasn’t in her apprentice about the second time she found her thoughts wandering off as she was applying icing, getting it all over the counter. So Zahrah found herself banished to the outside while Nessa and Olivia finished up the last couple of batches.

The only thing better than lounging on the pillowy grass watching the clouds in the sky was if there had been anyone to watch them with. Someone like…

“So the cruel dungeon master let you out for the afternoon, my lady?” Alistair’s handsome face stepped into her view. She felt her heart thumping just a little harder in her chest. He was so handsome and even though almost everyone called her my lady or lady Zahrah, there was just something–personal about the way he said it, something cutely possessive. Like a pet name.

“Olivia isn’t cruel, she’s really nice.” Zahrah told him as she stood up and brushed the grass off her skirt.

“Certainly.” He smiled, although there seemed to be something else behind it. But before she could decipher it, he held out a dozen roses to her. It wasn’t shy how he did it, as Tate might have, with a blush and a stammer, simply graceful and charming. “A rose for a rose, Lady Zahrah.” No, Zahrah was the one blushing.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” Zahrah said bending to inhale them.

“Well, what else could I bring such a beautiful lady” He asked.

“Oh, there you–oh Alistair.” Nessa said coming through the gate.

“Lady Nessa.” There was something small and tight in both their voices, though all they directed toward her was smiles, forced smiles, but smiles. Like she was five again and couldn’t see through it.

“Does Olivia need me for something?” Zahrah asked, her heart sinking, just a little. Yes, she was supposed to be helping Olivia and learning how to cook, but really who wouldn’t rather spend their afternoon with their crush, holding roses and being flattered rather than packing pastries up for the next morning’s market.

“Well, we do need to get these carried up to Fox’s for market.” Nessa said. A whine built up in Zahrah’s throat, which she wouldn’t give voice to, it would only make her sound like a petulant little kid in front of Alistair.

“Right.”

“Couldn’t you assist her, Lady Nessa.” Alistair asked dryly.

“Only if someone else wants to go check on the barn and feed the animals in it.” Nessa’s voice was bland. “And Zahrah is supposed to be Olivia’s assistant, which makes carrying them part of her job.” Zahrah sighed.

“I’ll be right in.”

“Tate!” Nessa called, suddenly. Zahrah looked at Nessa, then in the direction Nessa was looking, yes, there was Tate. Maybe Tate could take the pastries to market with Olivia and Zahrah could leave early. Although there was a part of her that felt guilty for even thinking it. Tate had already put in most of an afternoon working for the king, it probably wasn’t fair to make him do her job on top of his.

“One moment, Lady Nessa.” He called back.

“Well, my lady, it seems our time has been cut short.” Alistair leaned closer to her to murmur in her ear. If she’d been looking she might have noticed the way his leaning closer was timed just for when Tate rounded the corner. Might have seen the look of hopelessness cross his face. See the look of disgust cross Nessa’s. But all she could see were Alistair’s beautiful brown eyes.

“Guess so. I’ll–see you later?” She asked. He nodded with that smile that made her knees get all quivery, then headed off toward the front gate. She was still watching him, so she didn’t see Nessa pat Tate’s shoulder, or the pain on his face as the other woman did so.

The forest surrounding Shadowhaven was not really meant to be hiked, and certainly not in a wedding dress. Why she hadn’t thought to grab something else to wear this morning she’d never know. And the fact that the forest seemed to be clawing and pawing, trying to drag her back, didn’t help. Or maybe it was her regrets that were clawing at her, after all, the dress was seemingly untouched for as many snags as she seemed to have hit.

She’d never thought of herself as a coward. Her father would be so disappointed in her. He always told her to stand and face her fears. Although why she should care what he’d think… After what he did to her mother. But somehow twenty plus years of being daddy’s little girl didn’t go away just cause he’d done something inexcusable. And now as she had also done something inexcusable, hurt someone who deserved it no more than she’d deserved her father’s betrayal, all because she was weak.

And to add insult to injury, she was hopelessly lost. Maybe Tiffany could wander around the woods and find the one thing that would make her the happiest, but Jolene didn’t have that good a sense of direction. She was fine in cities. But cities had always had street signs and graffiti and identifiable buildings, forests… have trees.

All she knew was that the thick underbrush was all but impassible, except the from the direction she’d just come from. And what the hell was she doing anyway? Where was she going to go? She knew very little about the countries surrounding Shadowcrest, and even less about living in the middle ages, outside of the weird amalgamate that was Shadowcrest. She flung herself down on a rock and stared at the still water of the pond in front of her.

“The road’s back that way, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Jolene jumped and stared. The voice wasn’t familiar, no one that she knew. And at first she didn’t even see anyone, then, out of the underbrush stepped a man. Definitely not a Shadowcrestian. His teeshirt was somewhat familiar as if she should know the reference from somewhere. And he wore jeans and battered cowboy boots.

He looked–somehow–wrong in these woods, though maybe not quite as wrong as a woman in a gown straight out of the Phantom of the Opera, so it wasn’t like she had room to talk.

“The road to where?” Jolene asked.

“Kinda depends on you.” The man said with a shrug of shoulders that looked sort of how she imagined Sawyer’s would in a few years. Used to hard work and muscled from it, but not large, not bulky. He sat on the rock next to hers.

“You sound like the Cheshire Cat.” Jolene said.

“Just cause the person giving it is crazy doesn’t mean the advice can’t be sound.” He shrugged again, turning odd slate-blue-green eyes on her. As their gazes locked, she felt oddly naked, not physically, but mentally, as if he were seeing straight into her thoughts. “It’ll take you home.”

“Pardon?” Jolene said glancing away from the man who rubbed his freckled nose.

“The road. It’ll take you home.” He said after a moment of silence had passed.

“And what if you don’t know where home is anymore?”

“I bet you do, Jolene.” She stared at him, though he didn’t seem to notice. How did he know her name? Where was she? “If you’d just listen to yourself, you’d find you know.” He reminded her of someone. It was an odd, tip of the tongue sensation. While outwardly there were things that reminded her of the man who was probably currently waiting for her to show up to their wedding, underneath there was–someone else. That calm voice with just a hint of a drawl tickled the back of her mind.

“How do you know my name?” She blurted when the corners of his lips curled up into a quarter smile that she would have sworn she’d seen on–oh who? And the quiet huff of a laugh, she could hear it overlapping a memory as he caught her eyes again.

“I could tell you that–and you would never believe it.”

“Great. I fell and cracked my head open and am dying, aren’t I?” The laugh was a bit more cynical this time.

“You aren’t going to die today.” He frowned slightly. “Or at least your heart will still be beating in a day, a week, a month from now.” This was getting weirder by the moment.

“I don’t know whether to be more weirded out by your psychic routine or the fact that you make it sound like I will die today.”

“You’re at a crossroads, Jolene. I can’t tell you that if you make the right choice you’ll live happily ever after. The future is way too changing to pin it down. So the right choice won’t get you happily ever after, but the wrong choice, well…” He glanced away.

“It’ll mean that I’ll die like Scrooge?” Jolene couldn’t keep the sneer out of her voice. He chuckled, that maddeningly familiar laugh taunting her.

“No. I can’t even say that. Pinning down happiness is sort of like pinning down the wind. It’s difficult. Not impossible, but difficult. It’ll be harder to be happy.”

“So if I marry Sawyer, I’ll be happy?” She rolled her eyes.

“That also depends on you. You should know by now that happily ever after is a cheap lie. Even if you could get it, you wouldn’t want it. If you don’t work for it, it’ll never be enough for you. You can be happy if you don’t marry Sawyer, you can be happy if you do. You will regret not marrying Sawyer in a way that you won’t regret marrying him if that’s what you choose. You do have a choice, Jolene. You’ve just got to figure out what road you want to take.” The man scrubbed hands through his hair and looked up at the sky.

Then he turned and locked eyes with her again. His pupils seemed to expand, the tiny flecks of almost-silver in his irises flashing. Just for a second she thought she could see–she shook her head and blinked. His eyes were just eyes again. Sparkling, mischievous and yet sad, terribly sad.

He stood up and stretched. “It’s time for me to be movin’ on.” He started off the direction she’d come from.

“Wait, that’s it?” Jolene asked, scowling. “C’mon, even Dickens’ ghosts were less cheap than that.”

“You know what you want to do, Jolene. I don’t need to tell you that. If telling you something were gonna solve this, you’d have been settled right and tight six months ago.” The man chuckled. “I think what you needed is just encouragement to listen to yourself.”

“And you got stuck with the job?” Jolene snorted.

“More like I volunteered for it.”

“Why?” Her eyebrow shot toward her hairline as she said it.

“Indirectly, this involves someone who is very important to me. If I can pass along some sense to you, maybe down the road you can pass it along to them.” He shrugged, a rueful gesture, tantalizingly familiar in selfeffacing sort of way. “Ma’am.” He grabbed the brim of a hat that wasn’t there and nodded before turning and walking off in the direction she’d come from.

In the time it took her heart to beat three slow times, she was alone in the clearing though it had certainly taken her longer to make it through the trees than that.

Jolene looked over in the direction the man had said the road was in, and then back at the now empty clearing with no sign anyone but her had been in it–well–ever. When you don’t know where you’re going any road will get you there, the cat had said.

—

Jarrett sighed wishing there was something he could say to the young man who had by now had to have figured out that his bride wasn’t coming.

“I should have known–but–I thought…” Sawyer sighed.

“Aye.” Jarrett nodded.

“Well, I suppose I should…” Sawyer shifted in his seat.

“You don’t have to.” Jarrett told him. But he would, just like Jarrett would have. That was what they both did, picked themselves up out of the dirt and went along, regardless. The sound of shoes hitting the porch boards at a run startled them both and they turned to peer at the door.

“She’s coming!” Tate exclaimed hard on the heels of bursting through the door. Sawyer’s face was awash in conflicting emotions. “His Majesty says to tell you that she says that she’s sorry she kept us waiting, but if you still wanna do this. She will.”

—

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Jolene said as she stopped under the rose arbor.

“It’s alright.” He shrugged.

“I needed a little help finding the right road.” Her eyes scanned over the wedding guests with a peculiar intensity that he could only wonder at. But then Gray was taking his place and such mundane thoughts fled. Call him a romantic, but her hold his hands in hers somehow seemed to say that they would find their way to right better than any words a silver tongue could put together.

—

Adult Content warning! This scene chunk contains adult material. You were warned!

He hesitated outside the bedroom door, slowly turning the knob before releasing it only to grip and turn it again. Somehow this was–harder–than he had daydreamed this would be. Although, wasn’t that always the way it went. “You can come in, Sawyer.” her voice called though it lacked it’s usual tone of certainty. She was laying on the bed in a white shift certainly not made to impress anyone.

“Sorry.” He rounded the other side of the bed and sat down gingerly, though he’d been sleeping in this bed in this room for weeks now. He already knew the lumps in the mattress.

“I should be the one apologizing.” Jolene said. The light glinting off the ring on her left hand. “I’ve put you through a lot and now I’m asking you to be patient while I put you through more.” He was pretty sure, given the shift she was wearing, at least part of what she meant by that.

“I understand.” He murmured towards his hands.

“I–I know it’s selfish.” She began then held up a hand as he started to protest. “But I just can’t–we can’t–I can’t.”

“At least you didn’t banish me to the couch. That’s what Livvie says she used to do with her ex-husband.” Jolene smiled at that. But it faded almost before it had finished blooming.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered again. He leaned over and started to blow the candles on the nightstand out. “Wait, Sawyer.” He turned to look at her.

“I can’t–but it’s–it’s our wedding night.” Sawyer shrugged with a nonchalance that he certainly didn’t feel.

“I’m just glad you married me.” She brushed the hair from his face with one hand.

“Liar.” She said with a snicker. “Well, maybe there is something I can do.” Her hand brushed over his shoulder and across his chest, opening his pajama top and sliding it to one side before pulling the other side off his shoulder. He sat up slightly, tossing the cloth off to one side at her gesture.

She made a noise in the back of her throat and pressed her lips to his neck right over his pulse, which started raising as she nipped gently and her hand slid down his chest, to the drawstring on his sleep trews. Even without looking at the knot, she made short work of it and then her hand slid down further. Feather light touches on his hips and belly had him hard before the first finger touched him.

“Take your pants off.” She murmured in his hair, leaving him the task of trying to manage that without sitting up because her lips were still busy at his neck and the hollow of his collar bone. Though admittedly it was the light touch of her hand, much lower on his body, that was the hardest to work around. He got them kicked off though where they fell was anyone’s guess.

“Jo–” He began.

“Hush, sweetheart, or I’ll lose my nerve entirely.” She said before kissing him. A hard, wet deep thing unlike anything she’d ever done before, almost distracting him from her free hand–almost, until it wrapped around him. He gasped into her mouth and she nipped at his lower lip, which didn’t–couldn’t entirely distract him.

And then in that usual timeless rush, it was over. Him gasping for breath, eyes wide, watching his wife who shrugged ruefully.

“Good night, Sawyer.” She said shifting herself under the covers. He slid under them himself after fishing his trews off the footboard. “I wish you didn’t have to give me the time, but thanks.” He just nodded and wrapped his arms around his wife. They’d figure it out.

“When I said you ought to do something different with your hair, I didn’t mean loosen the braid and switch the shoulder on it.” Olivia sighed. “I meant different, like, wear it down.” Nessa smiled faintly as the other woman dropped into a chair at the table and flicked a finger at her own blonde mane.

“It gets in my way if I leave it down. Being able to see what I’m doing is more important, besides sheep don’t care about style.” Nessa reminded her.

“Yes, but you don’t just see sheeps.” Olivia rolled her eyes but smiled fondly.

“Of course not, there’s also horses, cattle, a barn cat and two herd dogs.” Nessa retorted.

“And?” Olivia prompted.

“And?” Nessa asked, her brow shooting up.

“I was more thinking the humans you see.” She batted her eyes.

“Sawyer is getting married.”

“Don’t remind me, I have to go in for my final monstrosity fitting this afternoon. I can’t imagine what he sees in that bitch.” Olivia shook her head.

“Liv.” Nessa shook her head.

“She’s making us into clones. Who sends down a dress code for a wedding.” Olivia pointed out. “And then she picked that candy floss horror.”

“I don’t think it’s so bad. I’ve certainly seen worse bridesmaids dresses.” Nessa said. Although in the privacy of her own head, telling them what cosmetics they were “allowed” and requiring hairstyles was rather presumptuous of her.

“She’s marrying Sawyer, not the king. In fact I highly doubt Lachlan will force us into a uniform for his wedding.” Olivia twirled a strand of strand of hair.

“Of course not.” Nessa laughed.

“Lachlan won’t force us into anything for his wedding, if it were left up to him, who knows when he’d get married. I dunno if we should be thankful that Fiona is stepping up her campaign to get him to put a ring on it or hope she falls down a well and we’re spared her vapid flirting with anything with a pulse shtick.” Olivia sighed, something that Nessa couldn’t help but echo.

“Livvie, really, she’s not…” Nessa trailed off, unable to force out the words ‘that bad’, settling instead for “that vapid.”

“Really? I get less creeped out from being hit on by actual lesbians.” Olivia said. “Actual lesbians don’t bother me.”

“So bisexuals do?” Nessa asked curiously.

“No, bicurious college girls who end up in videos on late night tv bother me.” Olivia said. “I don’t care what you prefer, peen, poon or a combo of the two, at the same time even. But her little girl I’d-kiss-my-best-friend-while-drunk-on-cheap-beer-for-a-teeshirt bit creeps me out more than my exes fetish for animated kiddie porn.” Nessa found herself blinking, repeatedly, like one of those baby dolls that she had had as a kid. Where all it did was blink with this perpetually disturbing blank look on its face.

“Animated kiddie porn?” If there was one thing that you could say about Mitch, it was that while he liked his porn as much as any guy, and more than most. He, at least, restrained himself to large amounts of the normal variety of it.

“Yep, in fact I caught him beating off to a horribly animated version of Scrappy Doo one time and there was a file on his computer labeled “Muppet Babies.” I didn’t investigate that one further.” Nessa didn’t blame her, just thinking about it made Nessa kinda sick to her stomach.

“Um, but there weren’t actual kids involved, right?” Nessa said. Cause child molester was different than just incredibly questionable taste in animation.

“That case is still under investigation.” Olivia said delicately.

“Oh!” Nessa said.

“I wasn’t trying to creep you out, just that the kid deserves better. Especially as he doesn’t have to scrape the bottom of the barrel, he’s the king.”

“Liv, he’s your age if not older.”

“There are many ways of being a kid, Nessa.” Olivia pointed out. Well that was true enough. “And even though we both feel about a billion years old, we’re not that old either.”

“Mmm.” Nessa sighed.

“Nor are we dead or do we need to go to the nunnery or wear the hair equivalent of a chastity belt.”

“I repeat, who am I supposed to be impressing by swanning around with shampoo commercial hair?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The back door opened, Jarrett smiled at both of them. Nessa felt her bottom lip catch in her teeth.

“So what are you ladies gossiping about?”

“Oh, hair, sheep, the impending wedding, our king’s taste in chicks, child molesting and bad porn. You know, the usual.” Olivia answered cheekily. Nessa wanted to bury her face in her hands and groan. Did Olivia really have to say everything that came to her mind. Usually Nessa didn’t mind Olivia’s cheerful bluntness, but… Jarrett just chuckled and smiled as he made his way to the water bucket and dipped out a glass of water.

The pottery caught the light and she watched as it flicker in the summer sunlight. “Nessa, where’s the…”

“Under the cupboard next to the sink.” She said absently.

“And the…”

“Sawyer has it.”

“Ah.”

“If you’re going over to Sawyer’s you could take him that basket of bread. Sweet kid, he can’t cook though.” Olivia said, the levity in her tone said something terribly amusing had just occurred but Nessa couldn’t figure out for the life of her what it might have been.

“I want to get the carrots watered first, but I will.” Jarrett said as he moved toward the door once more.

“You two are such an old married couple.” Olivia said as soon as Jarrett’s blonde hair was no longer visible through the leaded glass.

“We are not!” Nessa protested.

“Please. My nana used to do the same answering my peepaw’s questions before he finished asking them thing. They were married for like forty years before peepaw died.”

“He said he was gonna go fishing after he finished fixing the hinges on the back gate. What else would he be asking about?”

“Hmph.” Olivia shook her head.

“Livvie, we are not ready to even think about relationships, either of us.” She smoothed the linen tablecloth.

“And you’re never going to be.” Olivia said, something in her voice belying the matter of fact tone. Nessa looked at her. “I’m serious, Ness. If you two wait until you’re ready to move on, the only moving on you’ll be doing is to the next life.” There didn’t seem to be anything to say to that, so Nessa didn’t try. “But you guys deserve better. A lot better. And I can’t think of anyone in the entire bloody country who would understand you better than you understand each other. You guys get each other.”

“Right and next thing I know you’ll be trying to sell me on soul mates or something.” Nessa rolled her eyes and looked down at her work scarred hands.

“Please.” Olivia shook her head. “While I don’t think you guys are part of some cosmic plan to “be together” or any rot like that, he might not be your exact match, he might be your wildcard.”

“This isn’t getting my mending done.” Nessa shoved up from her chair.

“And I suppose I should go get my dress hemmed.” Olivia said with a shake of her head.

—

Sawyer was pacing. Jarrett remembered a lifetime or so ago, doing the same thing as he waited for Ivy. He remembered his father taking him aside and telling him jokes and funny stories, maybe just so he wouldn’t wear a hole in the floorboards of the chapel ante room. He also remembered thinking that when he had a son of his own, he would do the same thing were his son pacing holes in the floor.

It was something he remembered thinking in those days and hours after they’d laid little Frankie in the ground.

And it was something he remembered as he stepped into Sawyer’s path and racked his brain for something to tell the young man.

“How’re you doing?” Jarrett asked.

“I didn’t know it took this long.” Sawyer said mournfully. It really hadn’t been that long since the others had arrived. But it was wedding day timing. What was half a dozen minutes for the rest of them was eternities to the groom. He tugged on his stiff tunic, resisting the urge to pull at the collar, why Jolene had decided that everyone had to match he’d never know.

“I… understand.”

“But it’ll be over soon, right?” Sawyer said with a totally exaggerated expression his face.

“Yeah.” Jarrett nodded before catching movement out of the corner of his eye. Mistress Peyton. She peered into the dining room, obviously looking for someone, and as she could easily see Jarrett and Sawyer through the kitchen door, it couldn’t be them. She forced a smile that didn’t touch worried look in her eyes.

“Nessa, might I have a word?” She asked. “Or several.”

“Is something wrong?” Sawyer yelped. It was the only possible word for the sound. A yelp, like a kicked dog.

“Nothing to worry your pretty head over.” Mistress Peyton patted Sawyer on the head. But Lady Victoria’s appearance behind her in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, eyes slightly wild, certainly didn’t do anything to put to rest Jarrett’s suspicions.

“Sawyer, why don’t you go find Tate, he’s probably fretting himself near as bad as you are.” Jarrett suggested.

“It’s my wedding, Jarrett! If something’s wrong, why isn’t anyone telling me?”Sawyer said, as Peyton jerked her chin at the door that lead out onto a bit of totally useless as far as Jarrett could see porch off the kitchen.

“Because…” Jarrett said. Hesitating as he tried to think of a good because. Sawyer sighed. “I’ll go find Tate. White shows blood way to well.” Wondering what the younger man meant by that, Jarrett followed Peyton and Nessa out onto the porch, as Nessa’s sharp “What?!” caught his ears.

“Unlike bigfoot, we are lacking in sightings.” Peyton sighed.

“When?” Nessa asked.

“Last night. Nobody has seen or heard anything since they went to bed.”

“Oh, god.” Nessa groaned.

“What’s going on?” Jarrett asked.

“It seems that our bride is a runaway.”

“When I said that I wanted you to come over and help me with that pasture fence, Sawyer, I didn’t mean you couldn’t eat breakfast first. Especially as we may not even get out to do it, if it doesn’t stop thundering.” Jarrett said to Sawyer. “We haven’t even eaten yet, and I know we’re up before M’lord ever deems to step a foot out of bed.”

“Oh, am I in time for breakfast?” The teenager sounded hopeful.

“Aye, but…” Nessa couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Would you like some breakfast, Sawyer?” Nessa asked, already adding more fruit to the pile to be sliced.

“Aye! Er, please, if it’s not any inconvenience, Lady Nessa.” He added the last bit sounding a bit shamefaced.

“Did I miss something?” Jarrett asked.

“I’m fairly certain that Sawyer came over before breakfast because he was hoping to join us for breakfast.” Nessa said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s here for breakfast every morning I’m supposed to be cooking it.” There was the sound of a shoe scuffing against the floor. Ah the sounds of a teenager finding out that he was not as clever as he thought he was. Nessa smiled to herself.

It was amazing how much she was doing that! The first few times that she had smiled for no reason other than enjoying herself or the company of people around her, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from reaching up to touch her mouth, it had felt so odd for her face to move that way.

“Oh, and why don’t you ever come when it’s my turn to be cooking?” Jarrett asked, that mild teasing tone in his voice that it took often with Sawyer. He had a whole catalog of different tones with Sawyer, Nessa sometimes wondered if either of them knew about it. There was no way to ask without potentially embarrassing them both and men could be so touchy about showing affection to each other.

“Well,” Sawyer admitted to the table. “While your porridge is better than Alistair’s, it’s still porridge. And it’s always porridge, the only thing to change is what you stir into it. Lady Nessa never makes the same breakfast twice in a week.”

“Ah.”

“An’ I can get porridge at home without having to get up early to be over here with the birds.” Sawyer’s shoes scuffed again on the floor. “Maybe you should get Lady Nessa to teach you to cook something other than porridge.”

“So you can come for breakfast everyday? What happened to being here with the birds?” Jarrett asked. “Next thing I know, you’ll be asking us to start sleeping later.”

“Nah, I know that’s not happening–Is that that spiced fruit salad.” Sawyer asked as Nessa laid the plates down in front of them.

“Yep.”

“What’s that word of Lady Peyton’s? Awesomething?”

“Awesome.” Nessa corrected before sitting down with her own plat of fruit salad. Sawyer wasted no time in tucking into the fruit salad, and as such, he was finished with his portion before Nessa and Jarrett had  gotten a quarter into their portions.

“Did you even taste it?” Jarrett asked.

“Aye, and it was wonderful, Lady Nessa.” Sawyer smiled that disarming smile at her.

“Thank you, Sawyer.”

“Maybe I should ask you to teach M’lord to cook.” Sawyer mused.

“But do we really want to trust that man with a knife?” Nessa asked blandly. “I don’t really want to be in the same room with him and any item that requires trust.”

“A point.” Sawyer laughed.

“Well, lad, seeing as you’re done already, we could use some more firewood from the dry pile out back.” Jarrett suggested with an eyebrow up.

“Aye, Jarrett.” Sawyer picked up his plate and fork and went to the sink to wash them both.

“Well, for pushy teenaged guests who eat you out of house and home, at least he’s a polite one.” Nessa commented as she saw his black spikes of hair heading down the back stairs.

“Aye. He’s a good kid.” Jarrett agreed. Nessa nodded and turned her attention to her fruit salad. The only sound then being the immediate sounds of eating and the less immediate sound of rain splatting on the windows with a distant underscore of snarling thunder.

She noticed gold light playing through the windows, bathing the house in a warmer than sunlight glow.

“What the f…?” Nessa murmured, then cut herself off with a gasp and held very still as she heard Jarrett turn. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Nessa?” Jarrett asked, sounding concerned, not angry as she tried to will herself into remembering how she breathed. Mitch had hated it when she swore. Oh, he could cuss out a nun, but if she said “shit” instead of “sugar” when she stubbed her toe…

“What’s that?” She asked, pointed at the undulating golden light.

“Oh, I–uh I dunno.” Jarrett said, turning back toward the sink to peer out the window. Nessa buried her face in her hands and told her body that it did not need to pump out any more adrenaline, thank you very much. She had enough to last her until after lunch at best. “I think it’s something King Lachlan did.”

“Why’s that?” Nessa asked.

“Because he’s coming up the walk now?”

“Oh, sugar!” She scrambled to her feet, feeling the dress get caught around her feet and legs. There were days when she wished that she were more like Peyton in her ability to keep to a conviction. But–well–she just wasn’t. Mitch had harped about how she looked like a man too much anyway. Too tall, too lanky, too few of those womanly curves. When both men and women wore jeans, it didn’t matter if she wore jeans too, but here, women wore dresses. Her need to conform overrode her desire to be comfortable and move.

Nessa took a moment to smooth her skirts–and not so incidentally wipe the sweat off her palms–before calling up a smile and opening the door. Following in the wake of Lachlan was a blonde woman with a ready smile and quizzical eyes.

“Good morning, Lady Nessa.” King Lachlan said, his lips curling up into that soft smile of his. “Sorry to call so early.”

“Nah, we were up.” Nessa stepped back out of the way. “Come in, won’t you?”

“Heyla, Jarrett, rain’s stopped. You wanna go get to that fence before it starts raining again?” Sawyer called from the back door before Lachlan could introduce the blonde.

“Aye. If, if that’s not a problem, your majesty.” Jarrett looked at the king–or more at the king’s kneecaps. He never seemed to meet the king’s eyes, which Nessa wondered briefly why was. The king certainly wasn’t an intimidating man. But then again, Tate didn’t either. Maybe it was a class thing.

“No, go ahead, though it shouldn’t rain for a while. I don’t mind the occasional spring shower, they’re good for the crops, but we’ve been getting a bit too many spring showers. I just directed this one off toward a forest area that could use it.” The king smiled. “I just brought Lady Olivia by wondering if–as Lady’s Kennedy’s barn is a bit crowded at the moment, we could use your spare bedroom.”

“I could move back to the other barn, your majesty, if you need more room.” Sawyer volunteered.

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Sawyer, though thank you. As Lady Tiffany pointed out there are spare rooms in all of the cottages, save Master Blake’s. If we make use of those spare rooms, then we’ll have plenty of space.” Lachlan said.

“That’s fine, you’re welcome to our spare room–if-if that’s okay with Jarrett of course…” Nessa said, before her eyes slid to Jarrett. He hadn’t blown up at her yet, but if there was one thing guaranteed to set Mitch off, it had been ‘emasculating him’ in front of other men, usually by making a decision without consulting him.

“That’s fine with me as well.” Jarrett said with a smile.

“Welcome to Shadowcrest, Lady Olivia.” Sawyer bowed formally over her hand. She smiled and swatted him on the arm.

“Lady Olivia, your majesty.” Jarrett said with a crooked little smile, inclining his head to Olivia and bowing lowly to the king. “So tell me,” Jarrett murmured as they moved past the King toward the open door. “Did you volunteer to move back to the barn just to get away from Alistair?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Sawyer said blandly. Jarrett’s response was too low for Nessa to make out, but he nudged the teenager with his elbow his face somewhat stern.

“Nice?” Sawyer responded. “If you put all the times Alistair’s been less than a git to the both of us together, you still wouldn’t have accumulated a half second of ‘nice’.” Nessa lifted her hands to cover her mouth. Partially because she could agree.

Not long after, Lachlan tendered his regrets at having to leave and headed off to his previously scheduled kingly duties or whatever he did. The two women tended the garden in comfortable silence, then Nessa did the laundry leaving Olivia to wish outloud for a laundromat.

A hundred chores took the two of them to midafternoon. “So, what’s for dinner?” Olivia asked.

“Fish–again.” Nessa didn’t bother stifling a sigh.

“Frequently?” Olivia asked.

“Yep. It only costs time and there’s a lot of it.” Olivia nodded. “Not to say that I don’t like fish, just I ran out of new recipes for it three weeks ago. So I’ll admit to looking forward to Sunday when it’s roast or venison or anything but fish.”

“Let me try.” Olivia laughed. Nessa looked at her. “No, really. I promise, I’m not a bad cook.” Nessa nodded and got the fish out of the cold larder handing it to the woman. If the way she handled herself in the kitchen was any indication, she was probably a lot better cook than just not bad.

Nessa watched as she mixed spices together, her brows drawing in slightly. “Trust.” Olivia said, extending a placating hand. Nessa shook her head and said nothing. But trust certainly was easier to come by when the fish hit the pan on the hearth and filling the cottage with in moments with a heavenly aroma.

“Mmmm, that smells good!” Sawyer said.

“Is that your way of asking if you can stay for supper as well?” Jarrett laughed.

“Nah, well–,” Sawyer inhaled a deep breath. “if you were offering.” Olivia laughed.

“Wash your hands, there’s plenty.” The blonde said nodding toward the sink. “And this is almost ready.” In the time it took the three of them to get washed up and sat at the table, Olivia had the fish on plates and delivered all four to the table with a professionalism that bespoke of waitressing in her background.

“This is… wonderful, Lady Olivia.” Sawyer said.

“Uh oh, if the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, Jolene might have competition.” Nessa teased. Sawyer blushed and dropped his eyes. Nessa had to agree, wonderful almost didn’t seem adequate as the tender fish melted on her tongue, the spices she’d looked in askance at earlier melding together like a symphony in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m not a homewrecker. Is Jolene your girl, then, Sawyer?”

“Well…” Sawyer blushed again.

“He’d certainly like her to be. Jarrett tells me he’s worshiped at her feet since she arrived last year.” Nessa said with a laugh.

“You didn’t have to put it quite that way.” Sawyer’s flush deepened to a painful eggplant hue.

“What are friends for  if not to tell embarrassing stories about you.” Jarrett interjected. “This is wonderful, though, Lady Olivia.”

“Just Olivia, or Liv if you’d rather. If you keep saying lady, I’ll probably keep looking around for who you’re talking to.” Olivia said. “And thank you, I’d hope after ten years of working in kitchens I’d figured something out.” She smiled with a faint bit of pain in her eyes. “I’d hoped, at least–some day down the road–that I’d be able to open my own restaurant, but…”

“Well, maybe you can. Lady Tiffany can build you one.” Sawyer offered. “At least if we can pull her away from the King’s castle.”

“That easy, hmm?” Olivia quirked her brow.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”