He stroked her hair gently, murmuring softly, like one might when trying to comfort a child. "Shh, Mara, please....Don't cry. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. No one is going to hurt you ever again. I promise." He held her close and let her cry as long as she wanted, as long as she needed. "I love you," he whispered against her hair. "I've never stopped loving you." He knew he was taking a chance saying it. She might not love him anymore; she might even try to send him away, but if that was the case, then Elise would have said so, she who knew her lady's heart best.

Of all the things he could have said, those words pricked her heart sore, a heart torn open along old wounds just at the sight of him. But she didn't push him away, clinging to the man who held her, sobbing out her pain and fear and anguish, every last scrap of emotion that she had been forced to keep inside for so many years. And slowly, very slowly, some coherency began to make itself known amid the weeping. "....sorry ....so sorry, I shouldn't ....I didn't ....I love ..." Her trembling form quieted in his grasp, her shuddering breath gradually coming back under control, and carefully she drew herself back, wet green eyes looking up into his. "You never stopped?"

He held her trembling body close, safe in the circle of his warm embrace, for as long as she wanted, for as long at it took for her crying to subside. He wasn't sure what exactly was causing her tears, whether it was guilt, sorrow, anguish, relief - perhaps all of those things. He thought he might be angry at seeing her again, remembering all the pain she had caused him, but no, it hadn't been her fault. It had been Stefan. He was the one who was to blame for all their troubles. And there was a child to think of, a son he'd never known. He cupped her face between his hands and searched the watery green of her eyes with his own - green eyes like the sea meeting those of sky blue.

How should he answer" Should he tell her how he'd found love again, only to be lost almost as quickly in tragedy' No, not yet. It was in the past and had little to do with them. There would be time for explanations later. Had she never sent him away, he'd have never met Esme. Esme who had healed his heart and taught him to love again. Without that bit of healing, he might not have returned at all. He frowned at her, hurt that she could have ever doubted his love. "Is it so hard to believe that I love you still" Why do you think I've returned, after all these years?"

And just as he had said the right thing only moments before, that was the wrong thing to say. The softness in her hardened, years of agony solidifying into a moment of towering resentment that brought her hand high, her palm smacking into his face as hard as she could. And despite it hurting her more than it was ever going to hurt him, she felt better for it. "I wrote to you, I begged you to come back," she snapped, agonized fury bleeding from her as she tried to scoot away from him over the floor. "If you didn't hate me, why didn't you fight' I know you, Duncan. I know you couldn't have believed all those horrible things I said, but you just left. You abandoned me. You abandoned our son. Did you really hate me so much that you wouldn't even consider saving a child from this life?"

The abrupt change in her startled him, wounded him, more than the slap. She had been like a wounded bird a moment before, and now the bird was lashing out in anger and rage at the very person who loved her more than life itself. Her words picked at the wound that had festered for so long, and though he knew she spoke rashly, spurred on by a tumult of emotions, the past ten years had been no easier on him than they had been on her. He narrowed his eyes at her, pulling away, the slap stinging his face and turning his cheek crimson, though he seemed not to notice. He caught hold of her arm as she tried to escape him.

She wasn't getting away from him that easily - not again. "You wanted me to go, or do you remember that day differently than I" You told me you no longer loved me, that you'd never loved me. You told me to leave, that you never wanted to see me again. What was I to do, Mara" You wouldn't listen, and I didn't understand then what I understand now." His voice was calm, but beneath the quiet words was a raging, seething tumult of emotions waging war inside him.

"I tried so hard not to lie to you, but you made me do it!" Caught in his grip, she flinched, a learned reaction to a male hand holding her like that, closing her eyes, turning her face away. "He would have killed you," she told him, quieter, calmer, her body tense, expecting a blow that she knew would never come from her Duncan. "He still might. I couldn't ....I couldn't see any other way out." The tears had begun again, trickling down her pale cheeks as she remembered the anguish of those first months without him.

"If it's easier to blame me, then blame me," he told her quietly, shouldering the guilt for what had happened. She was right. If he hadn't been so blinded by anguish, he might have seen through the ruse sooner. As for himself, he didn't blame her - he blamed Stefan - but he hadn't been the one who'd been left behind to suffer beneath his hand. "If you want me to go, I will go, but before you send me away again, you should know the truth. I never received any letters, and until just yesterday, I knew of no child. I've been a fool, that much is true. I didn't want to believe you loved him and not me, but I was blinded by my feelings for you. I wanted to die that day." He paused, letting go of her arm and turning his face away from her so that she couldn't see his own pain and anguish. "I went to the cottage planning to do just that. I thought I'd walk out into the lake, just as Deirdre had, but when the time came, I couldn't do it. I was a coward, I suppose. I wanted to kill Stefan, but I thought that would only make you hate me all the more, so I left."

"How can you say that?" Released from a grip she had learned was a threat from another man, Mara's tension eased, her flinch relaxing. Her eyes turned to him once again, her own guilt, her own pain, foremost in her gaze. "I never hated you. I could never hate you. I've loved you since I was a child. And he hates you all the more because of it. I'm the reason you were in danger in the first place. And I'm the cause of all this mess. I made the wrong decision, Mal, and we all had to live with it. Although I ....I wasn't intending to live, not once you were gone. If I hadn't found out I was pregnant, I would have killed Rob, too." And just the thought of that horrifying possibility was a scar on her heart.

She shook her head, daring to reach out and touch Duncan's cheek. "I've kept him as safe as I can, hoping that you would come back for him. I know how foolish it would be to ask for your forgiveness; I can't forgive myself. But take Rob with you, when you go. I can destroy Stefan's reputation, and his Triad connections, by myself." By making use of the poison she hadn't used ten years before. No matter how much she loved Duncan, she didn't dare hope that he had meant it when he said he still loved her. She had no right to expect even his friendship any longer.

"I couldn't stand to stay and watch you with him, watch him flaunt you every chance he got." He lowered his gaze, feeling the old familiar pain rise up inside him and struggling to hold it at bay. "You were all I wanted in those days. All I needed. You were my breath and my life. I lived for you and nothing else. I'm sorry I failed you. I am not the same man I was when I left, Mara. Time has changed me." He flinched a little at her touch, half-expecting her to strike him again, the way his father once had. It seemed the wounded boy was still inside him somewhere, as much as he tried to deny it. He lifted his gaze to hers finally, overdue tears he had not shed in years clinging to a dark fringe of lashes, moved to tears by her confession and by the thought of a world without her in it. He shook his head slowly, denying her request. "Nae, when I go, I am taking you with me. You and Rob and Elise. And Beryl, if she wishes it. No one is to be left behind this time. We will all go together."

She stared at him, struck dumb by the selfless promise of rescue for not just her son, but herself and Elise and Beryl, too. For the first time in her life, she truly didn't know what to say. Silent, her hand stroked against his cheek, soothing the sting she had left there, her own face wet with tears. He wasn't the only wounded child in the room, forced to grow up before his time. "Why would you still want me?" she asked him, her whispering voice shaking with the fear that this was all some cruel dream. "I hurt you so much, and ..." Her expression crumpled again, this time in disgust at what she had become. "I'm ruined, Mal. The Triad made me their whore, in return for keeping Stefan away from us." But she was determined not to tell him why she had agreed, just how bad things had become to make her take that appalling step, unless she saw no other way. "I was never good enough for you when I was pure. I can't ever hope to be worthy of you now."

Duncan frowned, this further confession giving him mixed feelings. He wanted no secrets between them, no lies, but he could not say he had only loved once or that he had never been married, and though he wanted her, he would not build a new life with her based on lies. "Mara, there's something you should know..." he started as he settled himself beside her, exhaling a slow sigh of breath. He wasn't planning on telling her everything he had endured over the last ten years, not yet, but she needed to know he had shared his heart with another for a time.

His frown brought a soft sense of sadness to her expression. She had always been able to read him, just as he had always been able to read her, and the reluctance in him, the slow sigh as he settled by her side was enough. She closed her eyes for a moment, hiding the jealousy before he could see it, her lips curved in a wry regretful smile. "What was her name?" she asked gently, knowing that it would have been foolish indeed to think he had not found comfort, love, with someone else. He'd had the opportunity, the freedom to do so.

"Esme," he told her without hesitation, a hint of sadness in his voice. As much as he loved Mara, he would not, could not deny that he'd loved Esme, if only for a short time. "Her name was Esme. She..." He paused again, his hesitation to speak of her partly due to a fear of Mara's reaction, but partly born of grief for a woman he would not deny that he'd once loved. "She died shortly after we were married," he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice and his eyes. "After her death, I swore I'd never love again." Esme had been like a fire that had burned brightly for a short time before burning out, while Mara was a steady blaze that never quite went out. He had loved them both equally, but differently.

She closed her eyes once again, not wanting him to see even a hint of the pain that confession caused her. "I hoped you would find someone to love," she offered up her own confession, her voice tiny in the stillness around them. "I hoped you could forget me with someone else in your heart." But I never wanted to believe it could happen. Sure of herself once again, she opened her eyes, turning her face to his with a gentle smile. "She must have been very special."

"Aye, she was." He would not deny it, but she was not Mara. "She was like you in some ways, and in others, very different." He lifted a hand to touch her hair, to rub the silken softness between his fingers. "She was dark, where you are light. She loved me well, but she could never take your place in my heart, any more than you could take hers." He would not lie to her, not now, not ever, as hard as it might be for her to hear. What did it matter" Esme was gone. "She would have wanted me to be happy, Mara. She would have wanted me to love again."

She twisted onto her side, entranced by this side of a man she had thought she knew inside and out. She had taken a role in the creation of his sadness, she knew that; but Esme held a place there, too. It was ironic, cruel, that his first love had been taken by deception, and his second by the undefeatable whims of nature. "You have never broken a vow in your life," she murmured softly, not quite sure why she was saying this. Had she finally learned how to love without thinking of herself" Was she really going to talk him out of loving her, for the sake of a memory' "You shouldn't begin because of me."

He understood what she was trying to tell him, but since Esme's death and more importantly since his return to Dreven, he'd realized something else. "But I never stopped loving you, Mara, just as I will never stop loving Deirdre or Esme. I have not loved anyone since Esme's death. Oh, I've had a dalliance or two." Or more. In truth, he'd lost count. "I have been luckier than some, to have found love twice, though I once thought it was a curse."

She couldn't hold his gaze as he echoed her darker thoughts. It had been a long time since she'd considered herself anything but a blight on his life, and that, too, would take time to fade. The only thing of any worth she had ever given him was a son he had never even held. "How long have you been in Dreven?" she asked quietly, adding another piece to her mixture of puzzle pieces. "Leandra will set her sights on you again. She never forgave me for driving you away."

"Leandra is a harpy. I want nothing to do with her. I have never wanted anything to do with her. She is spoiled and....She is dangerous, Mara. More dangerous than her brother. You must avoid her as much as you can." He settled himself back against the pillows with a weary sigh. He had not answered her question. He'd been in Dreven too long already. "Do you remember the dreams we had when we were young" I wanted to raise horses. Remember?"

"I've tried. All I can do now is minimize how much time she spends with Rob." Her sigh echoed his once again as he went on, her head turning to let her eyes range hungrily over his face, committing his profile in sharper detail to her memory once more. Her hand fell to the bed beside his, slender fingers stroking in and out of his palm as he spoke. "I remember," she smiled, seeing again the children they had been and the impossible dream they had held onto for so long. "Is that our future?"

He turned his face toward her, blue eyes blazing with sudden anger. "I want him nowhere near that bitch." Even without yet knowing the boy, he felt a deep responsibility for him, a paternal protectiveness and desire to keep him safe. He would not be like his own father. With any luck, the boy would at least come to accept him as his father, even if he never loved him. He realized they were going to have to be quick. Whatever it was Marissa was planning, they would not be able to tarry in Dreven for long. It was Mara and Rob whose lives and safety were at stake now and most important to him.

Mara's eyes turned distant at the flare of his temper. The girl he had known would have flared right back at him, jumping on the sensed implication that she had failed and throwing it back at him. But the woman she had become had long since learned not to show her anger, her eyes growing dull as she moved to sit up. Because she knew she'd failed to keep his son completely safe, that Leandra had begun her poisonous process of infecting his mind with adoration of herself. Mara was just lucky that Robert loved his mother above any aunt or friend, but that didn't keep her from feeling the failure. "I've tried," was all she said, repeating herself in a dull tone as she looked away.

Duncan's fury faded quickly. He was not angry with her, after all, but with Leandra and Stefan. Mara had done her best to keep their boy safe, and Duncan sensed in his heart that she had gone to great lengths to do just that, selflessly setting aside her own safety and happiness for the sake of her son, just as she once had for him, but he chose not to speak on that just yet, not to prick at the pain of the past yet again. "Tell me about him. I saw him briefly when Elise let me in. He looks like a fine boy. He looks happy."

He's all I have. Though the words slipped through her mind, she didn't say them aloud, knowing they would hurt him more than she could ever deem acceptable. Instead, she turned her mind to her son, and her smile blossomed once again, her body twisting to lean back against the headboard as she shared her smile with Duncan. "He is happy, I think," she nodded gently. "Away from Stefan, he has the freedom he's always wanted. He's a good boy, Duncan, very gentle at heart. Violence horrifies him, and yet when he's faced with it, he stands up and tries to do the right thing." She hoped Duncan wouldn't ask her how Robert had been exposed to any kind of violence, but knew she wouldn't keep it from him if he did ask her. "He has a great love for the written word, for the complexities of language and expression. He wants to be an actor when he grows up. I would dearly love to see that, someday." Her smile faded as she went on. "But all he really wants is for his father to love him, to be proud of him. And I know he will have that, now. No one could ever deny that he is your son. Not even him."

He turned his head to watch her, noting the expression on her face when she spoke of her son, the pride and the joy and a little bit of sadness. If Duncan had counted the years correctly, the boy could be no more than nine. He remembered himself at nine, still young, still innocent, but not for long. He wore a worried frown again when she mentioned a father. The boy must have been raised believing that father to be Stefan, and Duncan felt a stab of jealousy and rage at the thought of that bastard having anything to do with his son - or with Mara.

"What will he think of a father who left before he was born" Of a father who abandoned him and his mother to a man whose heart is cold and dead?" They were her words, after all. She'd accused him of as much only a short time earlier, though they both knew better. He sighed again as he looked away, wishing not for the first time that he'd found the courage, all those years ago, to stay, though it might have meant his death. "If I'd known, I would never have left." If only he had known then what he knew now, he would never have left her in the hands of the Triad and the Del Sols. "Gods, Mara, I've been such an *ss."

A whirl of skirts, and he found her on top of him, her body pressed against him, familiar and yet unfamiliar. He laughed as she poked and prodded and tried to tease him, remembering all of the places that had been so vulnerable all those years before. His body had grown hard with muscle, no longer boyish, and where he'd once been prone to being ticklish, he was no longer. Except for one place near his ribs where her fingers elicited an involuntary flinch and a chuckle as he snatched her hand from his side, catching her about the wrist, glaring up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "You are far too dressed, Mara dear." His eyes flashed a warning.

"This isn't fair!" she protested laughingly as her seeking fingers failed to find anywhere to make him squirm under her touch. It had always been her ace, her one way to get him back for the way he teased her, and now it was gone. More changes, more differences ....but not so much for the worse. He felt firm beneath her hands, strong, defined, and despite her continued attempt to tickle him, she found herself enjoying the feeling of him under her touch, even through layers of leather and cloth. Triumph touched her eyes as he flinched finally from her fingers, relishing his chuckle, only to find her wrist caught in his grasp. Her breath spun from her body as her eyes met his, shocked by the unexpected aggression of the desire in his eyes, by the sudden tremble that force of want elicited in her own form. Her fingers flexed for a moment as she looked down at him, her own eyes growing stormy with the same longing. "Then what are you going to do about it, Duncan love?"

"I would tear that gown from you, but I expect it's rather dear." His gaze traveled over her again, devouring her with his eyes, ravishing her without even touching her. She was breathing hard against him, trembling with desire. He knew without asking that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. They were children no more, experienced adults who were both experienced in the ways of love, and yet, he suspected she had known very little pleasure at the hands of another man since he'd left. This was something he could give her, something he had learned that she had not, despite all her expansive training.

Oh, she knew how to touch a man, how to give him pleasure, but how to make him feel loved, how to feel loved herself was another matter entirely. A smile touched his lips at the thought of that, amused that their roles had somehow become reversed, though he said nothing of it. He shifted his weight, pushing her over onto her back to pin her beneath him, the heat and hardness of his body against hers. He let go of her wrist as his lips found the slender length of her neck and his fingers peeled the lace away to expose a bare shoulder. He drew a heavy sigh as his lips found hers. "I want you," he breathed against her lips.

She had not changed in some ways; she cared nothing for the expense of the gown she wore, bought as it had been with Stefan's money. But to see Duncan hesitate over destroying it, to know he could restrain himself even in the grip of such strong desire, it was exhilarating. Tossed over onto her back, she welcomed the heat and hardness of him into the cradle of her thighs, separated as they were by too many layers of cloth, her body arching up to his as just the simple play of his lips against her neck set her alight in a way she had not felt since he had left.

He was right in his assumption; though she had been taken many times, there had been no pleasure in it since the last night they had lain together. Indeed, Stefan had delighted in giving her more pain than pleasure at every turn, leaving her wary of any man's touch. But this was Duncan. He loved her; she loved him. He would never hurt her and mean it. Her arms curled about him as his lips found hers, as his breath teased with her own, as she trembled once more in his grasp. "I'm not stopping you," she heard herself whisper back to him. "Please ..."

He had thought to ask if he could stay the night. It was only mid-afternoon, and they had the whole night before them. So many hours to fill, and yet, it seemed hardly enough. He knew they could not make up for all the lost years in a single day, no matter how much he wanted to, and yet, he could give her a hint of what she had missed and what was yet to come. He would make her happy, he privately vowed, or he'd die trying. "I'm staying the night," he told her instead, a whispered promise against her lips. Let her try to make him leave. He was a boy no longer, master of his own mind and his own destiny.

He would be told what to do no longer, not by her or by anyone else. No more sacrifices, no more suffering. He would show her what she had missed and what he was capable of. He smiled at her pleading, knowing she wanted everything he was willing to give her and more. His lips plied hers and though he wanted to tear the cloth from her and make her his, he had a feeling she had not known a gentle hand in many years.

He decided the first taking would be gentle. Slow and gentle, so that he could show her what it was to make love, not only for the sake of pleasure, but for the sake of sharing and showing one's feelings for the other. He plied her lips gently, as his fingers peeled the fabric away, lips drifting to be a trail of soft kisses against her neck and shoulder, his fingers teasing the swell of her breasts above the cut of her dress, smiling at every intake of breath, every sigh and moan of pleasure, and he had hardly even started yet.

"But -" Her soft protest at the way he laid down to her what would happen next was cut off by his kisses, kisses that plied her lips and drove all thought of danger to him from her mind. She hadn't even been kissed, truly kissed, in years, and yet here he was, the man who had grown from the boy she'd loved, showing her once again how powerful a simple kiss could be. Her throat tightened, threatening tears all over again, a happier sign of the sadness that had been hers since she had pushed him away, but she held them down, lost in the wonder that was Duncan. Impatience scarred her eagerness, kept at bay by the muted strength of the man who lay over her, who touched her, kissed her, surrounded her, filling her senses until only he could possibly exist in that moment. It had been so long since she had felt loved, and here he was, loving her as he had loved her before, refusing to give way to the unimportant worries that touched her mind. "Duncan ....gods, I've missed you so ..."

He paused in his ministrations only long enough to press a finger against her lips to silence her. "Hush," he told her gently. "No more worries. We are together, and no one is ever going to tear us apart." He said it with such vehemence, such determination, believing without a doubt that their time had come. He would not let anyone stop them, not this time. He rolled away from her suddenly, moving to his feet so that he could divest himself of one too many layers. With a whirl of cloth, the cloak went first, tossed aside onto a chair. Beneath that was a leather jerkin, and another layer of cloth beneath that one. Too many layers of clothing needing to be hastily removed.

For a moment, she felt like a child in his arms, protected, wanted, loved, and knew that if only they had the time to learn one another, Robert would love Duncan as a father without hesitation. The thought made her smile even as Duncan rolled from her, her body relaxing back against the silken sheets as she watched him toss his cloak aside. Pushing herself to sit up, her feet dangling over the side of the bed to let her slippers fall unheeded to the floor, she offered her smile to her lover, the softness in her eyes something he would have to learn to grow familiar with. It was the softness that motherhood had taught her, fierce and gentle in one swoop. "Will you meet Robert tomorrow?" she asked quietly. "I want him to know you sooner, rather than later." Just in case something goes wrong.

His heart swelled at the question, embracing the idea of being not only a lover, but a husband and a father - of becoming a true family. It was an elusive dream that had been stolen from him twice already, and he embraced the possibility with an open mind and heart. The boy would come to know him in time - they would come to know each other - and he would know what it was to have a father who loved him. Duncan was sure of it. He smiled at the prospect of meeting their son. Not his, but theirs, made from the love they'd once shared. "Aye, I'll meet him, if you think he is ready," he agreed as he worked the trappings from his torso. The jerkin took a while, with all its fastenings, tossed aside to join the discarded cloak.

"He's ready." Of that, she was certain, though she had only been dropping hints to the boy over the past months. But he was an intelligent child; she knew he could put the pieces together, especially when he saw his father's face for the first time. "I'll bring him to the cottage. There are too many Triad eyes and ears in this house to risk the two of you meeting here outside these rooms." She rose to her feet, her hands lending aid to the undoing of those fussy strappings that kept him from view, unable to keep herself from rising onto her toes, drawing a tender trail of her own kisses along his jaw. "You grew up even more handsome than I imagined," she murmured fondly to him as the jerkin fell aside, drawing the slenderness of her fingers over the curve of his hip.

"Aye, I'm real," he reassured her with a soft smile and a gentle touch of fingers reaching out and linking with hers. There were still so many things he wanted to say to her - to tell her he loved her and that he was sorry - so sorry - he hadn't been strong enough to stay, to save her from Stefan's cruelty, but there would be time for words later. Time for everything later. "Hush now and kiss me before I wake up," he said, showing her that he, too, was afraid she might only be a dream and that he'd wake alone and lonely, just as he had countless nights before.

She didn't need to be told twice, at once reassured and relieved that he, too, had been nursing the same doubts; that he, too, had dreamed of her through their long years apart, just as she had dreamed of him. She surged forward, that one hand tightening in his, the other arm thrown about his neck as her body crashed to his, her lips smothering his own with a kiss that screamed out her love, her longing, how desperately she needed to believe that this was not a dream.

As much as he'd wanted to go slow that first time, the urgency of her need matched his, that kiss fueling the desire that was building to crisis proportions. He circled an arm about her waist and his lips met hers and he pushed her back onto the bed, covering her body with his own and waiting no longer. There would be time for discoveries and slow passionate kisses later. They had waited for each other long enough. He was gentle in the claiming, at least at first, wanting her to know love and not lust, restraining himself as much as he could so that she knew only pleasure and no pain.

For the first time, her chambers rang with the sound of true pleasure, true delight in the man who claimed her so tenderly. Gods alone knew what the servants made of the sound, no doubt wondering what skill this latest visitor had to draw their mistress from her intentional silence and into an unforced reality of longing and lust. Only one among their number knew that it was love that brought that joyous cry from Mara's lips, and she held it safely in her heart, going about her work with a new smile of her own. And in the chambers above, love long denied reclaimed itself, marking two hearts that had been made for one another once again with a binding both knew this time would only be broken by death.

As that first coupling eased, stillness fell over Mara where she lay curled into Duncan's side, breathless rediscovery touched with delicate, happy tears. "I'd forgotten," she whispered, her lips soft against the burnished bronze of his shoulder. "I don't want to forget again."

He reveled in the ability to bring her to such pleasured satisfaction, putting her needs, her desires above his own. The student had somehow, somewhere along the way, become the master, unafraid to demonstrate and share his mastery. And now, he lay there beside her, weary in a way that was strangely satisfying, his body echoing with the warm pleasures of the flesh, dreams of her becoming reality. He had felt the jagged lines of scars that marred her flesh, but they had only made him love her all the more, his heart filled with compassion and a deep longing to change her world, to give her everything he possibly could, to make her happy again. "You won't," he promised as he pulled her against him, touching his lips against her forehead, protectively, lovingly. "I won't ever let you forget."

She smiled that softer smile that belonged to him and to Rob, relishing the strength and warmth of his arms around her, feeling truly safe for the first time in years. "I love you, Mal," she murmured to him, lifting her head to look down on him as they lay in a tangle of limbs and sheets. There was a pause, heavy with regret, and her smile faded into distant memory. "I'm so sorry. And it doesn't seem enough."

His heart soared at the words of love from her lips, tempered by the sadness of her apology - an apology that was completely and utterly unnecessary in his eyes. He touched her cheek with gentle, loving fingers. "Nae, Mara. You need not apologize. It is I who am sorry. It is I who should beg your forgiveness. We were both so young. It is Stefan who is to blame for all this, not you, not me. It is Stefan who will pay." Blue eyes flashed again, a hint of the angry storm that raged in his soul and the hatred he bore the man who had nearly destroyed them both. "I will kill him for what he's done to you, mark my words."

The old fear came forth in her eyes, the fear that had torn them apart in the first place. Fear that Stefan might get his wish and see Duncan defeated before they had a chance to escape him for good. But she wasn't stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. "Be careful," she warned him softly. "He's stronger now than he was, he has a lot of influential friends. But ....if you call him out publicly, the Triad will back you. They would have backed you ten years ago." Her hand curled to his neck, green eyes burning into his as her tone became fervent, fierce, forceful. "Don't you dare die on me, Duncan Mallory. Don't you dare."

He saw the fear in her eyes, fear for him, that same fear that had led her to send him away all those years ago, but never again. He would not make that mistake twice. He smiled a little at her concern for him, knowing that, given the chance and the right opportunity, he could best Stefan. The fact was that he had always had the ability to beat Stefan in a fair fight, even as a boy, but Stefan had never been one to fight fairly. "I've not come this far to die on you now," he told her, pausing a moment as he considered his - no, their - next move. She had offered him six days to prepare before they left, six days before they were gone from here forever. It was not murder Duncan desired, but vengeance. In his mind, there was a very real difference. He frowned in silence, staring up at the ceiling as his mind turned on the choices before him, his thoughts his own.

Six days before the Triad sent another prospective convert to her bed, before she would be forced to give herself to a stranger to keep Robert safe. Mara didn't think she could do it now; pretend to be a willing participant in a game that chilled her to the bone. "We could hide somewhere," she offered softly, settling close beside him as his mind turned away. "That would give you more time, wouldn't it?" She sighed softly, tucking the sheet about herself, her modesty learned over the years as a means to hide the marks left behind on her fair skin.

Whether she wanted to play the Triad's game or not, he would never allow it, not now that he had returned to claim her for his own. He would never again let another man touch her, no matter who he was or for what reason. "I don't need more time," he replied, as she drew him back out of his thoughts. He knew he could ask Marissa to take Mara and Rob through the portal to safety while he tied up matters here, but he had a feeling his beloved would never agree to that, never agree to leave him behind, afraid she'd never see him again. "I want nothing to do with the Triad and their blood money. All I want is for you and Rob to be safe." That was his goal, and he wanted it far more than he desired retribution for Stefan.

"The only way we'll be safe is if we are with you," she clarified the point, making her opinion on any scheme that separated them clear without the need for an argument. "You don't have to kill him to have revenge. Losing me, losing Rob ....it will destroy his reputation in the city, especially if people know the truth. And the Triad will never back him if he no longer has me to use against you. He'll lose everything." A faintly malicious smirk touched her lips. "Even Leandra will turn against him. He's had her on a short leash for so long, her mind will likely snap when she learns you have reclaimed your own."

"And how are people going to learn the truth?" he asked, turning his head toward her, curious to see how her mind worked, what schemes of her own she might concoct. She had an advantage that Stefan might not have planned on - she'd had ten years to get to know him, to read him, to understand him. She was Duncan's best source of information regarding his old enemy. He reached to tuck the sheets up over them both, not so much for decency or modesty's sake. He had nothing to hide from her, and there was nothing about her that he found undesirable, but he felt an innate need to protect her, to care for her, to comfort her, just as she had cared for him all those years ago when he had needed her. The mention of Leandra quieted him and brought a worried frown to his face. Marissa had told him what would happen in the future if they did not leave, and he almost worried more about Leandra than he did about Stefan.

"I have contacts of my own," she told him quietly, touched by the gentle way he tucked them both safely beneath the sheets. "And there are rumors, always, about Rob's parentage. Stefan thinks he is on top of them, but Robert's you to the life. That can't be held a secret much longer. When words hits the city that you're back, the gossips will take a closer look at me and our son and put it all together. After that, it's simply a case of dropping the truth to a few interested parties. He can't silence the whole city."

He recognized the flinch, a wave of guilt passing through him, not realizing he'd frightened her, and he immediately let go. "Sorry, I'm so sorry," he found himself apologizing, feeling ashamed of himself for so many things, not the least of which was the thought that he might have hurt her, and the fear of his own son. Her kiss reassured him a little, but once again, he felt that nervous sickness wrenching his gut, worried that something would go horribly wrong. He reminded himself that he hadn't eaten since the morning meal, but somehow he wasn't hungry. Still, if they were going to be a family, he was going to have to meet the boy sometime, and it was better if he had his trust before they put their plan into motion. "Aye, all right," he agreed at last. The boy was her son, after all.

"Stop that," she told him firmly, and for a moment, he got a glimpse of the lioness who had protected his son for ten years in her stern glance, the authority in her tone. "You have nothing to apologize for. Now get up and stop being an old woman. He's nine years old, the worst he'll do is clam up and not speak at all." Which she, personally, thought was about as likely as Stefan and Duncan bonding for life. As she spoke, she was pulling her clothing on, hasty but presentable in a few minutes. Her expression softened as she smiled at Duncan. "I know I haven't done anything to earn it yet, but please, love, trust me just this once. I know my boys, both of you."

He rolled to his feet as she moved away, needing to get himself dressed, as well, before he was to meet his son. "I trust you," he assured her, looking very boyish for a moment in his all nervous nakedness, despite the fact that he was no longer a boy, relenting and letting her have her way. He wondered if this was to be his fate in life - spoiling them both and letting them have their way. He couldn't help but smile a little at the thought. There were far worse fates. "You'd best hurry then, old woman, before he finishes his dinner," he teased back. "Call me an old woman, will she," he muttered to himself as he bent over to search for his trousers.

Her eyes narrowed in a way far too familiar, the threat in her gaze utterly negated by her smile. "You just tumbled this old woman, little boy," she countered with a wink, pausing a moment to enjoy the view of his backside as he bent over. It took another moment to shake herself out of it, laughing to herself as she turned away. "All right. I'll be back in a few minutes." The rustle of her skirts betrayed her leaving, the door to the bedroom closing and a moment later echoed by the opening and closing of the main door out into the hallway.

"Aye, and don't pretend you didn't enjoy it, wench!" he retorted back at her, an amused smirk that lit up his whole face before he turned back to search for his clothing. "Blasted bloody hell..." he muttered to himself as he searched the pile of clothes for his pants. It wasn't long before he was halfway presentable again in tunic, trousers, and boots. He didn't bother with the jerkin or cloak or swordbelt as they were unnecessary and more for travel. He even took a moment to straighten the bed, as if he was worried the boy might realize what the two of them had been up to, nervously rearranging the pillows and straightening the blankets several times before finally giving up. He ran his fingers through his hair in a meager attempt to tame the unruly locks, nervously pacing the floor a few times before finding himself at the window, peering outside at the lake that shone like a diamond, the evening sunlight dancing off the silver ripples of water.

It wasn't so very long before voices filtered to him through the room beyond from the hallway, one that could only be Mara, and another, younger voice, sharing giggly words. It sounded as though they were being sneaky together, some harmless little game to make a meal more interesting. There was the sound of a door opening, and the voices entered the sitting room, joined by the clink of cutlery and crockery. Mara's voice lost its indulgent tone for a moment, making it clear that they weren't entirely alone, thanking servants for helping and dismissing them.

As the main door closed once again, Robert's voice rose in a peal of giggles. "You shouldn't of said that to Lambert," he laughed uproariously, clearly audible to the man in the room beyond.

"Why ever not?" Mara countered, a gentle fondness to her voice that was entirely new to Duncan's ear. "He is a stuffed up old fart."

This only served to make Robert laugh even harder over the sound of dishes being uncovered. "Yes, but you shouldn't of said it," he insisted to his mother, his voice proving that his affection for her was as strong as hers for him.

"How else was I going to rescue you from lessons over dinner?" his mother teased warmly, but her voice had calmed. "Besides, sweetheart, I have a secret guest I'd like you to meet. But you have to remember, he's a secret. No one knows he's here, except you, me, and Elise. And it has to stay that way, for now."

The silence in the room was suddenly rapt, the small boy's pause more to let himself feel the excitement of sharing a secret with his mother than out of concern. "I promise, no sharing," he said finally, and Mara's smile became audible in her voice as the sound of her footsteps approached the bedroom door.

"Good boy. Duncan?" The door came open at her touch, gentle green eyes inviting him to come into the sitting room and meet his son for the first time.

The little boy was standing by the wide hearth, on the edge of a tablecloth that had been laid on the floor. The various dishes that made up the evening meal were set out across the cloth, with plates and cutlery, cups, and a pitcher of water. Dinner in Mama's rooms was evidently an informal affair. Robert took a step forward as Mara opened the door to her bedroom, peering through the gap, eager to see this secret guest who made his Mama smile so sweetly. "My secon' name's Duncan," he offered up, distracted already by the name spoken aloud.

Mara's smile slipped from Duncan to their son and back again. "Yes, sweetheart," she agreed, her tender gaze beckoning Duncan to join them. "There's a very good reason for that."

Duncan's head turned toward the sound of voices in the adjoining room, and he tilted his head that way to listen. Keen hearing sensed more than two people there, at least momentarily, before there were only two voices left - one he knew well, one not so well, though there was a familiarity even to that voice, an echo of his own voice from long ago. He found himself backing up as the door opened and Mara called him, very nearly knocking over a table upon which stood a lamp and having to catch it before it fell over.

"I, uh..." Duncan stammered as the boy stepped curiously forward, his gaze darting to Mara's as she beckoned him toward them, looking to her as if for help, suddenly finding himself as speechless as a drooling idiot.

Mara met Duncan's terrified gaze and didn't even try to suppress her soft laugh, reaching out to take his hand and draw him into the sitting room. "Rob, this is Duncan," she introduced them both, feeling keenly the injustice that she had to introduce them to one another at all. "And he's a little nervous of meeting you, so be gentle."

The small boy's smile rose again at the soft tease in his mother's tone, but his blue eyes were quick to latch onto the face of the man she brought into sight by the hand. "He ....he sort of looks like me," he said wonderingly, before remembering his manners and snapping to attention, offering Duncan a clumsy version of a courtly bow. "It is a pleasure to make your, um ..." Beside Duncan, Mara mouthed the right word, and Robert grinned with relief. "To make your acquaintance, sir. Welcome to our house."

Duncan remembered his manners and the fact that he was a man and not a child. The boy had more gumption than he did, but that was for a very good reason. He was innocent, after all, and more than likely had no idea who Duncan might really be. Instead of a bow, Duncan offered a hand to the lad, youthful still but strong and calloused and battle-hardened. "It's a pleasure, lad. I..." He flicked a glance at Mara. "Your mother's told me so much about you."

For himself, Robert seemed to glow under Duncan's praise, under the reassurance that he was allowed to feel what he felt, that the dark cloud in his young life was passing. But most of all, he beamed with the knowledge that his father - his real father, the man who loved his mother and had come back for them - was proud of him. Nothing could have been greater than to hear Duncan say that, earning the man a fresh embrace from his son.

How could he not be proud of the boy' All he had to do was smile, and it was like sunshine on a cloudy day. Even though he didn't really know him, it didn't matter. He could not deny that Robert was his son, and Duncan knew they'd have to be careful, for a few days at least. He hugged the boy to him again before pulling back, tears of joy subsiding for a time, so that he could make the boy understand how important it was that he keep their meeting a secret, impressing on him what his mother had already asked. "I plan to take you and your mother away from here in a few days, but you must promise to say nothing to anyone that we have met. It is of the utmost importance, Robert, do you understand?"

The child stood back, his big eyes solemn once more as he absorbed what Duncan told him. His head nodded firmly up and down before he even opened his mouth. "It's a secret," he said calmly. "A good secret that the bad men can't know. And there's lots of bad men here." Even the child knew the Triad had eyes in his home; the sooner they were out of there, the better.

"Aye, 'tis a secret, but only for a few days." Duncan smiled as another thought came to him, and he glanced briefly up at Mara as if to ask her permission to continue, though she could not know what he was thinking before looking back at their son. "What would you say if I told you we are about to go on a grand adventure, you, your mother, and I?"

A small hand groped for Mara's, enclosed in her palm with gentle fondness as she met Duncan's glance, trusting him to know what to say and what not to say to their son. Robert lifted his other hand to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail as he considered the question quite seriously for a long moment. "Is 'lise comin', too?"

"Aye, Elise, too. She would have my hide if we dared leave her behind," Duncan answered with a wry chuckle, wondering idly if he'd said too much. "You'll have to pack your things, but only take what you need, as if you are going on holiday," he instructed further, remaining on one knee so he could continue to meet the boy face to face, letting him go so he could find the safety of his mother's side once again. He knew it would take time before he trusted this new person in his life, no matter who he claimed to be.

"On holiday?" Robert's brow furrowed, offering the heartbreaking understanding that this was a phrase he had never before encountered. There was no such thing as a holiday from life as Stefan Del Sol's acknowledged heir.

Mara moved to crouch down finally, her arm wrapped about Rob's waist as he leaned into her, wrapping his own small arm about her neck. "I'll help you, sweetheart," she promised him, unsurprised when the boy's hungry gaze didn't waver from Duncan's warm expression. "But not a word to anyone except Elise or me, and only if we're in here with no one to listen to us. Otherwise he'll come back for us." It wasn't a threat; just a gentle warning of the consequences of a loose tongue.

Rob nodded, dropping his thumb from his mouth to hug his arms around Mara's neck, his cheek resting against her hair as he watched Duncan. "Can I take Windsong with me?"

Duncan watched the interaction between mother and son, sensing the deep abiding affection each had for the other, a small stab of pain making itself known in his chest. Not jealousy exactly, but regret for all the lost years. He had so much to make up for, so much to catch up on, but there was hope there, too, for a bright, happy future free of any threat from the Del Sols or Triad. "Windsong?" Duncan echoed, with a curious glance to Mara. "Your....pony?" he guessed, uncertainly.

"Horse," she corrected with a proud smile, squeezing Rob as he leaned into her. "A Dale mare. She chose him when we visited the horse fair last year - came straight out of the herd, straight to his hand. He's never had any problems with her."

There was a quiet sound of agreement from Rob, his shyness returning now he had made his first connection with his father. "Can Windsong come too?"

"I..." He glanced to Mara again, unsure if he could make any promises. He wasn't even sure if he would be able to bring the Therm along or not. It was something he was going to have to discuss with their guide. As far as Marissa knew, it was only going to be three of them. The larger the group got, the riskier it was for all of them, but he didn't have the heart to tell him no, nor could he lie to him either. "I can't promise, but we'll try." Where there was a will, there was a way, and if the horse meant that much to his son, then Windsong would go, and the Therm would stay.

Rob's small face formed a frown, childlike petulance rising that was so very like his mother's had been when she was young. But before he could open his mouth to object to the thought of leaving his precious horse behind, Mara tweaked his nose, the look in her eyes telling him that now was not the time to be so selfish of his own wishes. "It might be too dangerous to bring Windsong with us," she warned him gently. "If that happens, she'll be looked after here. We can send her to the Rangers before we leave, if we have to."

Reluctantly, the boy acknowledged this with another nod, his eyes straying now toward the food laid out on the floor. "Can we have dinner now?" he asked, as though the subject were all settled. "Is Papa going to eat with us?"

"I have a friend with the Rangers. I'm sure he'd be happy to have her," Duncan piped in helpfully, hoping to soothe the boy's worries. He loved horses more than he loved most people, and if he had his way, he'd bring as many with them as he could, but he wasn't sure that was going to be possible. Besides, there had to be horses where they were going, right' Duncan glanced at the makeshift picnic Mara had laid out on the floor and smiled. "With your permission, Master Robert," he said as he moved to his feet and offered a courtly bow.

Blinking his blue eyes, Rob offered up his shy smile again, quietly pleased with the father his Mama had presented him with. It would take time for Stefan's shadow to pass from the boy entirely, but Mara had been absolutely right. Just a little time with Duncan, and Rob was his. As she rose onto her feet, the little boy slipped from her side, tentatively inching his hand into Duncan's. "Mama only brought two plates," he offered conspiratorially. "You can share mine, if you want."

"I would be honored," Duncan replied with a smile, wrapping his much larger hand around the boy's. Though the physical resemblance was obvious, Duncan wondered if he'd ever been as shy or as timid as his young son. He felt a stab of guilt once again at the realization that Stefan was more than likely responsible for Robert's timidity, but once they were away from this place, Duncan was sure the boy would thrive. He glanced over at Mara and caught her eye for a moment, but held his tongue regarding Stefan's treatment of his son.

She could guess what was going through Duncan's mind, knowing that for all her protection of their son over the years, Stefan's constant disapproval had done its work. But she believed Rob would thrive with Duncan, just as he expected, and met her beloved's gaze with an encouraging smile. "I can see I'm going to be outdone with gentlemanly manners with you two around," she teased them both, gently chucking Rob's cheek fondly, leaning close to kiss Duncan's cheek. She lowered her voice to murmur into her lover's ear. "You need to eat, or you'll never have the strength for tonight."

Sat close, Mara leaned against Duncan's back, her cheek against his as he told his tales, lulling their son to sleep with thoughts of adventure and excitement. As Robert drifted into dreams, she kissed her beloved's cheek tenderly, meeting his whisper with a murmur of her own. "I'll take him to his rooms," she told Duncan softly. "Elise will be waiting to put him to bed." Her softness ebbed for a moment as a faint frown touched her brow. "You should go back into the bedroom - there'll be a servant in to clear out the dishes while I'm gone. But I won't be long." Her fingers caressed his cheek once again, lowering to gently stroke against Robert's hair. "Sweetheart' Wake up, love, say goodnight to your father."

The child stirred reluctantly, letting out a quiet groan of protest even as his sleepy eyes blinked open once again, looking up at Duncan trustingly. "G'nigh', Papa," was mumbled wearily, and small arms rose to lock about Mara's neck as she moved to lift him up into her arms. "M'secret papa."

"Can't he stay here with us for tonight?" Duncan asked, already knowing the answer to that. Anything out of the ordinary wouldn't do, as they didn't want to rouse suspicion, and yet, it was hard letting the boy go, if only so he could rest. Duncan reluctantly relented, allowing Mara to wake the boy, smiling warmly as his son opened his drowsy blue eyes. Duncan leaned close to push the boy's wayward curls away from his face and press a kiss against his brow. "Goodnight, Robert. Sleep well and have happy dreams."

The goodnight kiss and farewell left a smile on Robert's face as he cuddled into Mara's arms, already slipping back into dreams of a real family, a real father, a happy mother, and as many plays and books and words as he wanted. Mara smiled for Duncan once more before she turned to slip away to the door, easing herself out and into the hallway with her precious cargo wrapped close in her arms. A few minutes later, the door opened again, admitting a young servant girl to tidy the room and clear away the dishes, aware that the mistress had a visitor and equally aware that none of the mistress' visitors were to be known of openly.

Duncan retreated to the privacy of Mara's bedchamber as she went to tuck Robert into bed, missing the servant girl, though he heard her moving about in the adjoining room. He'd taken the wine and the glass with him, but left the rest, and he went to stand at the window looking out on the moon reflecting a silvery mirror image against the surface of the lake. He was a lone figure, a lonely dark silhouette at the window, lost in the turmoil of his own thoughts.

The girl was gone by the time Mara returned, the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock offering a fresh layer of safety in the dimness of the rooms in which he stood. Golden-haired and shadowed in the gloom, she slipped into the bedchamber, already undoing her laces once again, automatically going through the motions of preparing for bed before the stark darkness of his silhouette drew her to a halt. Wrapped only in her chemise once more, she moved to stand beside him, easing her fingers into his hand, laying her cheek against his shoulder. "I haven't seen him that happy in a long time," she said softly. "That was all because of you."

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn't hear her return, his face turned to the view outside her window, to the lake he both loved and hated. In a few days, they'd be gone from here and he'd never see it again. Would he miss it' Would she" No, he'd learned long ago that home wasn't a place, and though there were a few friends that he'd miss and that might miss him, he knew he was doing the right thing, both for himself and his family. That was what Mara and Rob were, after all - his family. He would make her his wife and give her and Robert his name, claiming them legally, marking them his to love and cherish and protect all the days of his life, however long that might be. He closed his hand around hers, so small and soft. Her hand felt so right there, as if it had always belonged there. "I won't let anyone else hurt him or you ever again," he told her quietly, tears in his voice, impossible to see in the darkness.

Her other hand crept to his elbow, hugging his arm against herself as she leaned into him, her own gaze centered on the reflection of moonlight off the lake. "I know," she whispered, as confident in him as she had always been, her faith in him never shaken, even after everything they had been through together and apart. "Just a few more days, and we'll be safe again. All of us."

"Have you ever thought that all of this had to happen?" he asked, letting go of her hand so he could slide an arm around her to draw her close. "If it hadn't happened....if you hadn't sent me away, I'd probably be dead now, and you'd be forever at Stefan's mercy." He didn't doubt that he could have bested Stefan, but it was more complicated than that, and he was seeing things more clearly now than he had in years. "There's someone you need to meet," he continued, going over the plan for escape in his mind and the steps they needed to take in the next few days to come.

"I don't want to believe it, but I know you're right," Mara sighed softly, drawn close against him by the arm he curled about her. Her own arms rose to wrap about his waist, embracing him possessively, still afraid that the morning would bring his loss and Stefan's return. "We wouldn't have Rob if none of this had happened. He's the best part of us." As Duncan's words turned toward his plan and the mysterious someone he'd hinted at before, she tilted her head back, looking up at him curiously. "Who?"

"A girl," Duncan started. He paused a moment, wondering how much he should tell her and where to start. There was still a lot they hadn't shared about the last ten years, and in a way, Marissa was part of that story. "It's....complicated," he continued, mulling it over quietly while he gazed at the lake. "You were talking about going to the cottage tomorrow. I think I can arrange for her to meet us there."

"I'm not leaving Rob behind when I come to the cottage," she told him quietly. "I know I am probably over-reacting, but ....so much went wrong last time. I don't want to risk losing him, having to exchange you for him. And I know Stefan has his own people in the countryside around here. As soon as even a hint of something being different reaches him, he'll come here, no matter what the Triad threaten him with." Her eyes rose from the lake to look up at Duncan, her arms tightening about his waist. "The sooner your friend makes her preparations, the better."

"Agreed. We're not taking any chances this time," Duncan replied. He had already considered all this and was in agreement. Putting his own life or even Mara's at risk was one thing, but he wasn't taking any chances where their son was concerned. Rob's safety was of paramount importance to both of them. There could be nothing amiss, nothing out of the ordinary. Everything had to seem as if it was just another day. The plans depended on it. "How long do your....guests usually stay?" he asked, turning his head toward hers. If they wanted everything to appear as if it was business as usual, he needed to know what the usual was.

She winced at the mention of her guests, lowering her gaze once again, hating that he had to play that game for the sake of the servants who would report back to the Triad anything out of the ordinary. "One left at dawn, but the others have all stayed until after the morning meal," she told him softly. "They always leave cloaked and hooded, there is little chance of your being recognized if you do the same."

It bothered him that she had guests at all, but he couldn't blame her, not anymore, not knowing the circumstances of her situation. What was important now was freeing her and Rob from this gilded cage where Stefan and the Triad held them both captive. He shifted, turning away from the window to face her, taking her by the shoulders to meet his gaze. "Once we are away from here, once we are free, we are going to be married," he told her, not taking no for an answer. It didn't matter if she thought herself unworthy; he loved her, and that was all that mattered. "We are going to leave here. We are going to be married, and we are going to have the life we always wanted. Together."

She swayed in his grasp, gazing up at him with the trust that had never truly been shaken, even during their long years of separation. Her hands rose to cover his heart, savoring the heat of his skin through the cloth of his shirt, the steady beat beneath her palm. "I'm going to hold you to that," she promised him faithfully. "I've waited so long to give Rob his true name, to be able to tell him he was named for his father. But you have to promise me something, Duncan. That if something goes wrong, you will take Rob away safely. Nothing matters more than that. Nothing."