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Great.
Fucking great.
Now what the hell was she supposed to do?
* * *
Fiona thanked the healer for taking care of her busted eardrums, yet again, and watched as he lifted an arm and folded from Alison’s library. Rubbing her ears, she went in search of Alison and found her in the living room, sitting in a big comfortable chair and nursing baby Helena. The baby at three months was now a wonderful armful.
Alison’s eyes were drooping. The first year with a nursing baby in the house was always a tough time: beautiful, wonderful, exciting, but tough. Add to that Alison’s duties as executive assistant to the scorpion queen and yes, it was definitely time to leave mother and daughter alone. It had to be one in the morning.
But as her gaze drifted to the black shock of hair, moving gently with each suckling motion, Fiona’s heart squished up into a delicious knot remembering those early months with Carolyn so many years ago. Would she and Jean-Pierre one day have a family?
The thought nearly brought tears to her eyes.
“I should go,” she said.
Alison smiled. “You are welcome to stay as long as you like, but you must be exhausted.”
Oddly, she wasn’t, and yet what a long, strange, frightening night it had been. “I’d better get back to Jean-Pierre.”
Alison nodded.
She made a quick call to Militia HQ to let both the landing platform and Jean-Pierre know that she was on her way. Boy, did she have things to tell him. What a show he’d missed when he’d folded on ahead to HQ.
Once she had things settled with Jean-Pierre, she transferred to the night-duty grid monitor, Donna, and got a fold to the platform.
Jean-Pierre stood waiting for her in battle gear. The sight of him was always a jolt to her feminine sensibilities but especially in a uniform that showed a lot of skin: muscled arms, a good portion of his chest, and parts of his legs. He was tall, ripped, lean as hell with sharp cheekbones—so handsome, well, her knees felt watery all over again. She had the strong feeling that no matter what happened in the coming years, that would never change, how the mere sight of him nearly brought her tumbling to the floor.
Her heart started pounding out a new cadence because she realized that right in this moment, they had no more duties for the rest of the night … except to go home.
Together.
His thoughts must have been similar because when he approached her, he smelled like a warm cup of coffee.
“Croissants,” he murmured, whispering the word next to her ear. He slipped his arms around her and held her close.
She looked up at him. “Is everything okay here? I was a little surprised when you left Endelle’s office.”
“Yes, I needed to speak with Seriffe … about the Militia Warrior training program. I … have some ideas I wish to pursue.”
“Really?” She saw the light in his eye, something akin to hopefulness. What on earth had happened? What had changed? “What’s going on?”
“I am not certain, but I think a new power has emerged for me, something wholly unexpected.”
She blinked. “Empathy. Like Alison. I’m right, aren’t I?”
He nodded. “I believe so, but the application that keeps flowing through my mind has to do with the Militia Warriors and encouraging not just their skills but their powers as well. We need them to grow stronger if we are to win this war.”
“And you think you can help them do that? Sort of bring them into their powers?”
“I am not certain, but that is my wish.”
She squeezed his arm. “Jean-Pierre, I hope you can do exactly that because I know what this means to you.”
His nostrils flared slightly. “I love that you know me in this way, Fiona, that this was your first thought and that you understood how much I want to change the course of the war. I want it as though it is life to me.”
She nodded and put a hand on his cheek.
“We should go home now, non?”
“Absolutely.”
He shifted slightly and waved to the officer on duty.
“Ready?” he asked, looking down at her.
Fiona smiled. She loved that about Jean-Pierre, that he didn’t just take off, folding them both, but gave her a warning, which made a huge difference for her. Folding anywhere was still an unsettling experience. Yes, she loved that about him.
She nodded and the smooth glide through nether-space landed them inside his house right next to the piano.
She blinked, staring at the baby grand. “One day, I hope you’ll play for me, then I’ll play for you.”
“You play as well?” he asked.
She lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know that every accomplished woman in Boston society played extremely well.” But she laughed.
As she took in the piano once more, for a swift moment she was drawn back to her row house in Beacon Hill all those decades ago, to the evening parties, to performing or listening to her dearest friends perform. Those were the requirements of the time and place.
Now she was in Jean-Pierre’s house, a very different time, a very different place. There were new requirements now, one in particular that had been harassing her from the moment she realized that the coffee scent she kept smelling came from him.
Imagine … coffee.
The whole thing was so extraordinary and demanding and upsetting.
Even now she was just a little pissed off that she didn’t seem to have a choice.
“Fiona,” he said softly, again close to her ear. “Tell me what you are thinking. You are glaring at my poor piano.”
She chuckled. She glanced back at him and he smiled for her, showing her all his beautiful big teeth. She put her hand on his face, stroking her thumb over his cheek. “We crossed some serious territory tonight, didn’t we?”
He nodded into her hand, then turned slightly and kissed her palm. She shivered. God, what this man could do to her with just a kiss.
“I have something I must ask you, but I wish you to know that I do not ask this lightly.”
She could see that he was suddenly nervous, but she didn’t interrupt him.
“I wish to know if you would complete the breh-hedden with me?”
Her gaze dropped to his chin. She was afraid to look anywhere else. She already knew what her answer would be, but this was still not a simple thing, not an easy step to take. Marriage would have been a walk in the park compared with this. The joining was so much more involved, more intense, and would come with even greater responsibility.
He rubbed her arms and kissed her forehead.
