In the morning, Declan left a still-sleeping Chantale, had a quick shower and made his way to the kitchen. He found a fresh pot of coffee and the good doctor sitting at his table, looking out towards his backyard. She turned when she heard him.

"I've not had a chance to tell you what a beautiful property you have."

It was the first day in his recent memory when the sun was out. The light streamed down to the grass, spackled as it went through the trees. Often, in the summer, Declan would sit out on the patio and have a mug of tea. Sometimes, when he was really lucky, there would be a family of deer munching on his flower bed. He didn't tend his garden himself, he had a nice older woman who came to do it. Several years ago she'd been forced by financial circumstances to leave her home and move into a condo. She'd been thrilled for the chance to continue gardening, even if it was someone else's place. Declan forced money into her hand every chance he got, but she was always recalcitrant. He was doing her a favour, she would insist, and not the other way around.

Now, even in the winter, her loving care was evident.

"Thank you, Jocelyne, I appreciate the compliment. It was one of the selling features of the house." He hesitated. "Thank you for tending to Chantale last night. I'm not sure anything short of a tranquilizer would have gotten her to go to the hospital."

Jocelyne snickered. "That girl has a phobia of hospitals which is ironic because her only sibling practically lives in one."

"You practice in the hospital, not private practice?"

She gave him a broad smile. "I'm a trauma surgeon. I live and breathe the adrenaline world of emergency medicine." Then she turned contemplative. "At least I did until I met Seth. He helped me expand my narrow view of the world. He's taught me how to have fun and not take myself too seriously. He's brought balance which was never there before."

"You love him," Declan asserted, although he already knew the answer.

"He's my world," Jocelyne replied. "But that world also includes his extended family - and there are a lot of them - as well as his friends."

"Including Pritchard."

"Yes," Jocelyne said quietly, "including Colton. The break-up has been hard on all of us as Chantale has made it clear she doesn't want to break up the bonds between us all. Whatever you think of him, Colton's very loyal. He stands up for his friends and family."

Declan considered. "He considers Chantale to still be his."

Jocelyne was about to shake her head, but then reconsidered. "Not his in the pejorative sense, but her as someone he wants to protect. He's...he's a good man, one of the best I've ever known."

He held back a snicker, but it was an effort. "He's hurt your sister and still you defend him."

"I think he did his best to protect her. He could see the relationship was heading to something serious and he didn't reciprocate those feelings. Would it have been better to lead her on, letting her think he felt more than he actually did? In the end, wouldn't that hurt her more?" Jocelyne considered him. "I worry the same about the two of you. I worry that you only see her as a warm body-"

"Don't," Declan said hotly. "I'm not a man who uses women. I'm a man who respects your sister deeply. Is the relationship doomed? Of course, but that hasn't stopped this mutual feeling of attraction."

"You love her." Her words were soft with just a touch of wonder to them.

How could he possibly respond to her assertion? Two weeks wasn't enough time to get to know someone except that, given the circumstances, he felt like he knew Chantale intimately. He knew about her insecurities, what made her laugh, and what touched her heart. He had come to respect, although not necessarily understand, her work and why she did what she did. He would like to think she also had a good grasp on him.

Finally, at length, he spoke. "I don't know if I love her or not, but I respect her and I would never deliberately cause her pain."

She continued to consider him. "Well, as a big sister, that's all I can ask for." She looked around. "I think I'm going to go check on her, if that's okay with you. She won't be able to shower because of the bandage, but I can get her into the bath. I'll check the wound and then go to bed myself."

"You haven't slept?" Declan didn't try to hide the surprise.

"No," Jocelyne replied. "Seth and I had first watch last night. When the constable arrived about an hour ago, Seth went to our place to let the dogs out and get our stuff. We'll sleep here, if that's okay, until Seth goes on shift. He's been assigned the watch tonight and I think he'll be easier with it because he'll have his weapon. He was jittery last night without it."

"He was saying he doesn't carry it when he's off duty."

She nodded. "It's kept in his locker at work. He's got a permit for a hunting rifle which he keeps locked up at the cabin, but he wasn't going to bring it here." She stood and stretched. "I'm going to take Chantale some coffee and then hit the mattress."

"Do you want to bring the dogs here? I mean, would that be reassuring to you?"

She cocked an eyebrow. "You would do that? For me?"

Declan shrugged. "This house is a zoo of sorts anyway, so why not add a dog or two to the mix?"

"I'm going to call Seth right now before you change your mind."

With that, she was gone.

Declan rose to put the kettle on to boil and then began an inventory of his food. He was going to need a lot more of it if he was going to have a constant stream of guests over the next unknown period of time.

"I can wash my own hair," Chantale grumbled. She was glaring at her sister who had unceremoniously woken her this morning and hadn't even had the decency to bring her a coffee.

"I don't want you to get the stitches wet, so get over yourself."

Jocelyne was already reaching for Declan's t-shirt, so Chantale relented and let her ease it over her head. Her arm was throbbing, but she wasn't going to beg for painkillers. She had her pride, after all.

She slipped into the hot water, letting it envelop her. Slowly, bit by bit, her muscles began to loosen and she let out a long sigh. Closing her eyes, she wasn't surprised when Jocelyne pushed the hair back from her face.

"When Seth told me you'd been shot, my heart stopped." Jocelyne's voice was thick with emotion. "I don't think I tell you enough how much you mean to me."

"Jossie-"

"No, let me speak. I've always treated you as if you were fragile and needed protection. Last night, though, you proved yourself more than capable." She let out a watery laugh. "You're also the most stubborn person I know and that's saying something."

Chantale's eyes opened. "I can't be separated from him, Jossie, I just can't."

"You love him," Jocelyne said.

Chantale took a deep breath. "I've never felt this way about anyone in my life except you. Love? I don't know, but the desire to protect is so strong it threatens to overwhelm me. It might even be affecting my objectivity, but I don't think so." Finally, she sighed. "It would be wrong in so many ways for me to love him. Everyone now knows I've broken my ethical vows. I could lose my law licence. I need to recuse myself. I can still work on the case, but I can't be his lawyer. I'll have to ask Nick... Except I can't do that. I can't ask him to risk everything he has."

"I think Nick can make up his own mind. Do you have to recuse yourself right away? Can you wait until these guys are caught?"

"I can recuse myself any time, but that will leave Declan without a lawyer."

"An official lawyer," Jocelyne asserted. "Do you have any court proceedings coming up?"

Chantale shook her head.

"Well, you do what you think is best. I don't think anyone here is going to report you to the bar association."

"Colton might."

Jocelyne considered. "I don't think so. He's many things, but vindictive isn't one of them." She grabbed the bottle of shampoo and a cup. "Let's get that mop of curls clean."

It took some manoeuvring, but they were successful. Jocelyne pulled the hair into a ponytail then Chantale put on more borrowed clothes. "I was supposed to go clothes shopping with Seth," she groused, but her heart wasn't in it.

"You'll survive," Jocelyne pointed out. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mac and Charley should be here by now."

"You talked Declan into allowing the mutts in the house?" She wasn't pleased.

"Actually, he offered and I thought they might raise your spirits."

Even as Jocelyne opened the bedroom door, said mutts came barrelling in. Mac went straight to his mistress while Charley circled Chantale, barking his little heart out.

"Jossie, can you help-"

Already her sister was lifting the little seven pound terrier into Chantale's arms. A little awkward with only one arm, but he calmed immediately and gave her a couple of quick swipes of his tongue to her cheek.

"Let's get you some coffee," Jocelyne said. "Then you can thank Declan for his generosity."

Chantale knew she would do exactly that.

Declan, however, was not in the kitchen. Seth was and he rose to press a kiss to Jocelyne's lips. "I see they found you. I thanked Declan for letting them visit." He glanced at Chantale. "Two cups of coffee?"

"Sure," Chantale said, sitting in one of the kitchen chairs. "So where is Declan?" She tried to make her voice casual, but wasn't really able to.

"He's meeting with Darius Evans."

Chantale shot him a curious glance.

"Darius is an accountant," Seth said, by way of clarification. "They went into the den about ten minutes ago. The guy from the glass company should be here before noon. Colton and I boarded it up last night."

"That was nice of you," Chantale said. "I don't think either Declan or I would have thought about that."

Seth refrained from saying anything about the fact Declan had carried Chantale to his bedroom and then stayed with her for the night. "I think the carpet might be a write-off though."

"How much blood is going to be spilled before this is over, Seth?"

He shrugged. "We're doing our best, Chantale. This is the part where I tell you to be patient, all the while knowing you are beyond frustrated."

She relented. "I think I need a second of coffee." She saw the knowing glance pass between Jocelyne and Seth, but chose to ignore it.

Declan continued to look over the information Darius had provided. The accountant was good, he thought, having put together so many options in such a short period of time.

"I think we're in agreement the best thing to do is sell the house."

Darius took a moment to think it over. "We can make it contingent on conviction, yes. We need to put all of your liquid assets which aren't going towards legal fees into a trust. I would suggest conservative investments which don't require a lot of tending so they'll steadily grow until you're released from prison - if you're convicted, of course."

He felt a flare of hope quickly doused by the cold water of realism. "I want to create a fund to help the victims of the crime."

Now the accountant considered, looked at him as if taking his measure. "That's very generous of you."

"Well, what else am I going to do with the money? It's not like I can take it to prison with me. I mean a few bucks a month to buy niceties, sure, but that pretty much covers all my needs. I know they won't allow me a computer, but I'm hoping they'll allow me a pen and paper."

"Planning to write a treatise about the Canadian penal system?"

"I'm no Conrad Black," Declan said, referring to the disgraced businessman who had spent some time in an American prison and then had written about it. "I'm not sure what I'm going to write, but I have fifteen to twenty-five years to figure it out."

The man in front of him gave him a long level look. Darius' green eyes were in contrast to his light blonde hair which was a little shaggier than his own. "You seem almost resigned."

"I seem to have been convicted in the court of public opinion."

Darius inclined his head. "Maybe so, but that's a long way from a conviction. I won't ask if you're guilty or not because that's none of my business. I'll work with a lawyer I know to legally set up the trusts and then make sure that you're taken care of."

"How old are you?"

Darius looked startled at the question. "Thirty-four, but I've been in private practice since I was twenty-four. I started my own firm three years later. We specialize in estates, but we also have a branch that does audits-"

Declan indicated he could stop and Darius did.

"I was only asking because I need someone who's going to be around for the next twenty-five years and who's not going to rip me off."

Now, the accountant looked affronted. "I can promise you my work is above reproach. I will arrange for you to receive the statements directly from the institutions so there's no question. I won't have access to the money anyway."

This was exactly what Declan wanted to hear. Well, he didn't need a financial institution sending him statements in prison, but he liked and trusted the man in front of him.

"Work with the lawyer to set everything up. I would like the paperwork as soon as possible and we might as well put the house on the market. It's the only way I can pay my legal bills."

Darius didn't stand as Declan had expected him to.

"I know someone who can lend you the money and will only buy the house if you're convicted. He'll pay market rates for it as well."

Declan nearly goggled. "And who might this paragon of virtue be?"

"A private client," Darius asserted. "Someone who has the means to make a good investment. Either way, he wins. You're found innocent and pay him back at a reasonable interest rate or you get convicted and he gets the house. Whatever is left after the legal bills are paid can go into the trust for the victims."

Too good to be true, Declan thought, but it left the door open for that minute chance he might be found innocent. That minute chance he might be able to keep his house.

To what end, he thought, desperation clawing at him. He had no job or means of support to pay back this generosity. No, the house would have to be sold regardless. If he went for the deal, though, then he could stay in it until after the trial.

At length, he spoke. "Put it together," he told Darius. "Any chance I can know the name of this generous benefactor?"

This time, Darius hesitated. "Well, the name will be on the paperwork, so I might as well tell you. It's Storm Hampton."

Declan didn't bother to hide his surprise. "The professor?"

Darius nodded. "A professor who happened to create a formula which he sold for a lot of money."

"He sure doesn't act like he's rich." Professor Hampton was one of the favourite teachers on campus.

"That's why I like him," Darius said. "He's not pretentious, he's just a simple guy who happens to live in a very expensive house with a beautiful wife and baby."

A dream Declan could only aspire to. He stood and Darius did the same. "Can you leave these papers with me?"

Darius nodded. "Of course. I'll get working on the paperwork right away."

Now it was Declan who nodded and paused. "If you could refrain from telling Professor Hampton about the bullet hole in the glass and the blood stain in the carpet, it would be appreciated. The glass will be fixed by tonight and I had been considering getting hardwood floors for quite some time."

"Will increase the value of the home," Darius said. "I did a replacement about a year ago myself. Much easier to keep clean."

There was that, Declan thought, as he led the way to the front door. He escorted Darius to the front door. "How soon do you think I can have those funds?"

"End of business on Friday," the man replied.

"I'll get you the account where I want them put."

"That would be fine." Darius held out his hand. "I wish you the best."

Declan shook the proffered hand. "You and me both." He waited until the accountant was gone before turning to find Chantale watching him.

Her look was too-knowing. She could see too much, he thought, as he tried to school his features.

"Look, Declan-"

"I don't want to talk about it, Chantale." She looked like she was going to argue, so he made a quick slash with this hands to indicate the conversation was over before it had really started. Then, ignoring her look of hurt, he stalked back into the den and closed the door.

Chantale went back to the dining room, Mac and Charley in tow. She sat, then patted her lap so Charley leapt into it. Seth had told her how he'd found the little guy by the side of the road when someone had thrown him out of a truck. He'd nursed the terrier back to health with Mac at the ready to protect her new little friend. Charley showed no signs of having lingering effects from the abuse and was living the high life with Jocelyne and Seth.

He gave her another swipe on the chin before settling down in her lap. Mac turned three times then settled on Chantale's socked feet in order to keep them warm for her.

"Where do I start," she asked, half to herself and half to the dogs. Interviews, she thought. Colton and Dorrie had questioned numerous people from campus. Colleagues, students, even someone from the admissions office. She pulled out that folder and began to read.

She was so engrossed that she started when a sandwich and fresh cup of coffee were placed in front of her. Declan went back to the kitchen and then returned with his own lunch. He sat and then pointed to the dog in Chantale's lap. "Shouldn't you put him on the ground or something?"

"Hygienically? Probably. Will I?" She burrowed her face in Charley's fur. "He's my rock of support."

Declan shifted. "I should apologize for my earlier behaviour." He paused, eyeing his sandwich. "I was feeling...exposed, raw."

"You could have turned to me," Chantale admonished quietly, "instead of turning from me."

He considered, then nodded. "I'm not used to having someone. I've been keeping my own counsel since my parents died and I have no idea how to share a burden."

Now it was her turn to consider. "I was much the same way. Jocelyne and I were close, but I wasn't in the habit of turning to her for support. Nor she with me, which was why it hurt when I found out she was being abused. Now, I would like to think that things are different." She glanced down at Charley. "I appreciate you letting them bunk here."

Declan chuckled. "I've never considered opening a Bed and Breakfast, but I'm rethinking that. I've placed an order with the service and they'll be bringing up replenishments this afternoon. The glass will be fixed and tomorrow I've got a guy coming up to give me an estimate on ripping up the carpet and laying down hardwood."

"That's crazy," Chantale said.

"Not really," Declan said. "I was looking at a nice light pine. Something to reflect the natural light which pours in when it's sunny."

"That's not what I meant," Chantal replied sharply. "I just think it's crazy to have more people in here."

"Why not," Declan asked. "There's twenty-four hour security, so now's the perfect time to get things done. I took a mug of coffee out to the constable on duty, by the way. Nice young woman, French Canadian by the name of Sophie Langlois. I didn't realize they would post an Acadian so far from home."

"She's from New Brunswick?"

Declan nodded.

"You had quite a conversation with her," Chantale commented.

"I try to be friendly," Declan said. "That and she barely looks older than my students. She's been in Mission City for six months, but is hoping her next posting will be closer to home."

Chantale wished she could have observed the interaction. The interviews had all painted a picture of a man who was friendly, but never overtly so. He had a strong physical presence, but never touched his students - inappropriately or otherwise. He was called a gentleman and a scholar, according to both students and the faculty. The only hint of something unseemly had been an interview with a staff member from admissions who said he'd seen Declan getting a little too close to his students. No specifics, Chantale had noted. No particular event or date or anything concrete. Just a feeling, the man had said.

A morning wasted, Chantale thought, except she had a list of people willing to be character witnesses for Declan. All interviewed had expressed shock at the arrest and were certain he couldn't have done the crimes he was accused of. So where did that leave her?

"We need to talk about Nikita Ruiz."

Declan looked up from his food, startled. "Why would we do that?"

"Because we need to nail down specifics. Worst case scenario is we cop to that charge but fight the others."

He looked ill. "I didn't rape her. At least I don't think I did."

Mid-bite, Chantale's hand dropped. Charley, sensing an opening, snapped up the crust, but Chantale was unaware of it. "What do you mean you don't think you raped her? How can you not know if you raped someone?" He was about to speak when she stopped him with her hand. She urged Charley to the ground, then reached for a pad of paper and a pen. "Let's go through this step by step. Nikita says you raped her."

"That's what she said, yes."

"Well, if you didn't rape her, did you have sex with her?"

"They found my DNA on her panties."

"DNA doesn't equal rape," she pointed out. "When did she say that this happened?"

"As you know, she says I raped her in September, but she only came forward at the end of November when she realized the other girls in her class had been assaulted."

"So she didn't report it right away," Chantale mused aloud.

Declan shook his head.

"But she still had the underwear."

Declan nodded.

"That's just bizarre."

Declan shrugged. "I tried to point that out to the police, but my protestations fell on deaf ears. They were ready to condemn me based on the DNA and I'm not sure I can blame them."

"Well, how did your DNA get on her panties?"

His upper lip quivered.

"Don't even think about lying to me, Declan. This is too important. Did you have sex with Nikita?"

"I think I must have."

Chantale leaned forward. "I told you not to lie to me."

"And I'm telling you the truth," he argued. "I have no memory of having sex with her, but I must have because how else did my DNA get on her panties?"

She considered. "There's always the chance they made a mistake in the lab, but that's very, very rare since they have strict protocols." She tapped her pen to the notepad. "Were there vaginal secretions?"

His eyed widened. "I beg your pardon?" His voice was rough and his discomfort was clear.

"When two people have sex, there's usually proof of it because both of them leave something behind. Sex is a very messy business," she pointed out. "Lots of bodily fluids get exchanged." She eyed him. "Spill it, Declan. Tell me what you're holding back because there's no point of evading."

He swallowed. Hard. "I met with Nikita in my office, alone, one night after class."

Chantale groaned. "Okay, really not a good idea."

"I've been doing it for ten years and have never had a problem. The door was open, of course, and there were other students around. My office hours are normally before class, but not all students can get there early, so I'm willing to see them afterwards."

"Okay, but seeing a student for office hours doesn't equal having sex." She leaned forward. "Did you have sex with her in your office?"

"I don't remember."

She barked out a laugh.

"No," he said, desperation taking hold. "I remember her coming to the office, but the rest is hazy. Fuzzy. Like it happened to someone else."

Now, she was intrigued. "Tell me exactly what happened and don't leave anything else."

He reached out for a sip of water and his hand wasn't entirely steady. "It was the second week of class and we were studying Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient. After class, Nikita asked to speak to me about a quote she'd read." His eyes drifted shut. "' You think that you are an iconoclast, but you're not. You just move, or replace what you cannot have. If you fail at something, you retreat into something else. Nothing changes you.... I left you because I knew I could never change you. You would stand in the room so still sometimes, as if the greatest betrayal of yourself would be to reveal one more inch of your character."

"I'll take your word for it." English literature had never been her forté.

"I brewed some tea while we discussed the book. She seemed quite knowledgeable about it and I admit I was impressed. It's not a common piece of literature for a first year student." He looked down at his hands for a moment. "Then we began a discussion about Margaret Atwood and then next thing I remember is waking up alone on the couch in my office and half the night was gone."

"Wait, what?"

"I believe you heard me. I don't know when she left and I don't know what happened before she left. For all I know, we did have sex."

Chantale felt a cold dread envelop her. "It sounds like she slipped something in your tea." She hesitated. "Were there signs of you having ejaculated?" He shifted and she held out a hand. "No sense getting squeamish here, Declan. Play it for me straight."

"My zipper wasn't done up properly and there was...dried fluid on my jeans. I panicked because I couldn't remember." He leapt from the chair, nearly knocking it over. "How can I not remember?"

"They're called date rape drugs for a reason."

He shook his head. "I thought about that, but..."

His pallor was almost grey, so she prompted, "but..."

"How could I...get an erection...if I wasn't conscious?"

In other circumstances, his discomfort might be amusing, but there was nothing funny about what she was facing. "I'll check with a medical expert, of course, but I suspect that men can be aroused various ways, including chemically."

His eyes widened. "You think she gave me an erection pill and the date rape drug? That's so preposterous I can't even fathom it. And to what end?"

"Would you have slept with her otherwise?"

"Of course not," he spat. "I would never sleep with a student." He eyed her and she could see the wheels turning. "What's the motive?"

Now it was her turn to shrug. "Why do men give roofies to women? To get them to do something they wouldn't normally do," she supplied.

Declan dropped into his chair with a thud.

"You really think...?"

"I don't know, but it's plausible. You're right about motive, though, it's an odd one." Her brow furrowed. "And why are you only telling me this now?"

"I was embarrassed and I wondered if maybe....if maybe I had done something inappropriate."

Chantale closed her eyes, praying for strength. "Embarrassed? I told you from the beginning you needed to be upfront with me, Declan. You should have trusted me."

"Perhaps," he said quietly, "but I didn't want you thinking the worst of me. I have my pride, Chantale."

"And you're willing to go to jail labelled as a sexual predator because of pride? That's just..." She searched for a word that wouldn't get her admonished. To hell with it, she thought, he wasn't going to cow her. "Bullshit," she said. "It's bullshit."

"Does it really change things?"

God, but the man could be dense.

"It changes everything. We go back to Remy and tell her what happened. We interview Nikita and we look for holes in her story. If I'm right, she won't stand up under scrutiny. We get that charge thrown out and everything else goes down like dominos."

Declan gave her a measured look. "That sounds way too simplistic. Surely I wouldn't be so lucky."

"Luck has nothing to do with it." She was already reaching for her phone. Within twenty minutes she'd arranged to meet Nikita in Remy's office the next day. The prosecutor hadn't been pleased, but had been intrigued by Declan's unique protestation of innocence. Remy was also going to send the panties back to the lab to look for Nikita's DNA.

Setting the phone down, Chantale gave Declan a long look. "I'll forgive you for not trusting me, but don't ever think about lying to me again, as your lawyer or as your..." What was she?

"Lover," Declan prompted.

Somehow it sounded a little tawdry, even if it was accurate. "That reminds me. I'm going to have to recuse myself pretty soon."

His look of shock was priceless. "And why would you do that?"

"Something about it being unethical for lawyers to sleep with their clients. If this goes to trial, it will look really bad if we're sleeping together." She bit her lip, then continued. "I'll find you the best lawyer I can, but I'm hopeful, Declan."

"Well, I'll leave you to this. I've put on a stew for tonight. Enough to feed an army or, if not, we'll have leftovers for a month." He offered her a somewhat strained smile which she returned in kind.

"I'm going to prepare for tomorrow's deposition." With that, he was gone and Chantale got down to work.

As it turned out, dinner was Chantale, Jocelyne and Declan. Seth had grabbed a quick bite on the go as he had headed down to the Detachment. He was going to grab his gun and come back 'on duty'. Declan wasn't sure of the ethics, but Seth's boss, Sergeant Greg Wilder, had signed off on it, so who was he to argue?

Jocelyne carried most of the conversation, telling anecdotes about various injuries she had seen in the ER. Declan was impressed with some of the creative excuses people used to explain some...interesting situations. Jocelyne had a natural way with the stories and, he suspected, a good way with patients. At his insistence, she told the story of how she had met Seth, including the fact she'd been a fugitive from justice. A fugitive and a cop, Declan had mused. Must have been something special to both bring them together and then keep them together.

Declan did the dishes while Jocelyne checked Chantale's wound and then they settled down for a movie. It had taken Jocelyne about ten minutes to actually select a film as she'd insisted of checking out each title. She'd finally settled on the 1949 version of Little Women with Elizabeth Taylor, June Allyson, Peter Lawford and Janet Leigh. Another adaptation, but Chantale had held her tongue, although Declan hadn't missed the roll of her eyes.

By the end of the movie, though, he could see that Chantale had been entranced.

"You cried when Beth died, didn't you." He didn't phrase it as a question and she only shot him a look which told him what he thought about his speaking aloud his observation.

"I did," Jocelyne volunteered. "I had no idea that was going to happen. It was tragic." She rose and stretched. "I'm going to say good night to my husband and go to bed." Seth was in the middle of one of his perimeter checks, Declan knew.

When Jocelyne left, he rose, taking Chantale's good hand. "I think it'll be safe for us to call it a night as well." She allowed him to tug her to her feet and they walked hand-in-hand through the house. For how much longer would this be his, he wondered. This had been his sanctuary for years now and he'd planned to keep it well into retirement. If it had to be sacrificed for the chance for future freedom, however, he was willing to do it.

Once he had secured the door to the master bedroom, he sat on the bed while Chantale went to the washroom. When she came back, he helped her off with her clothes. When he offered her a t-shirt, however, she balked. "I like sleeping naked and I expect you to do the same."

After a day of dealing with accountants, glaziers, cops, sisters and dogs, he was too tired to argue. Instead he went to the bathroom, came back into the room and stripped.

Then he slid in behind Chantale, much as he had the night before. Tonight, however, she was as warm as he was. He slipped his arm around her waist then resting it in the shelf below her breasts. He placed a kiss to her shoulder and then closed his eyes.

Not fifteen seconds later, they popped open.

"Chantale, what are you doing?"

"Getting comfortable," came her pithy response, but he didn't buy it for a moment. She was currently pressing her nicely curved tush against his hips and, despite his best efforts, his body was reacting. She reached down, snagging his hand, and guided it to her breast. Within mere moments, it pebbled and she moaned.

"I don't think-"

"Please don't," she said. "Please just make love with me."

"Your arm-"

"Doesn't bother me," she said. "And anyway, we're don't need it. At least not in the way you might be thinking."

He hadn't been thinking anything except how to get her to stop writhing because she was driving him mad. Then she slid her thigh over his and he was able to see what she was envisioning. So, realizing argument really was futile, he trailed his hand down from her breast, skimmed it along her abdomen and then delved it between her thighs. She was slick and warm, angling her hips to grant him greater access.

Taking the invitation, he slid into her. She let out one long sigh of contentment and then her breath hitched when he began to move in her.

The sensations were different, but no less potent. The penetration was shallow, but he could still feel her hugging him with her inner muscles. His hand slid down between her thighs again and he pressed his fingers against her. In response, she let out a little purr of pleasure.

Her breath hitched just before she began to orgasm, her muscles clamping and claiming him for herself. A few more thrusts and he was able to join her in oblivion.

No words were spoken and soon Chantale's breathing evened and she slipped into sleep.

Declan was left holding a woman he was falling in love with, if he wasn't there already. The thought of losing her robbed him of breath and he pulled her just a little bit closer. So unexpected, she had been, but this felt so right.

With a little sigh, he forced his mind to go blank so he could also slip into sleep.

� �{��SW9