He was at the right place. He could see Greg's Land Rover in the shed. The house was beautiful, it was a comfortable estate home . . . two floors plus attics.

The front door was locked, and while it surprised him a bit, he was pleased that they were being cautious. He knocked and waited for about a minute. He then knocked again and waited. When no one came, he walked around the east side of the house to see if anyone was on the grounds behind it. He heard chickens clucking as he rounded the corner and saw a large penned area that Najid must be proud of. He stopped at the corner and saw that Abby and Anya were hanging washing on a line near the rear terrace. He just stood there, watching. Every muscle in his body was tense, though he steeled himself to simply be still and watch.

They each grabbed an end of a sheet and lifted it to stretch it over the line. Anya's back was to him, while Abby faced him. Abby caught sight of him and immediately became still attempting to assess the threat he posed. She hadn't yet recognized him. Anya's head whipped around to see what Abby was riveted by. Suddenly, Abby yelled, "Tom!" and dropped the sheet and broke into a run. When she reached him, she just about knocked him over with a hug. Questions were tumbling out of her, "What happened to you? How did you find us? Are you okay?" As she stepped back out of the embrace, she ran her hands down his arms and then cradled his face in both her hands. Her smile lit her whole face and tears glistened in her eyes. Her warm welcome thawed something within Tom and he cradled the back of her head, pulling her head to his shoulder and giving her a kiss just above her ear. She pulled back again and smiled, he returned the smile and then raised his eyes to look over her shoulder at Anya.

Anya hadn't moved a muscle. Her gaze met his as she looked over her shoulder at him. She clutched the damp sheet to her chest, uncaring that the end Abby had dropped was lying on the ground.

Abby stepped away from Tom, sliding her hand around to his right side and then his back as she moved out of his path to Anya. He didn't move. Anya didn't move. They just stared into one another's eyes across the lawn. Abby's hand nudged him forward and she murmured, "Go to her." She then stepped back and watched their reunion unfold.

Tom's heart wanted him to break into a run and envelop Anya in an embrace. He wanted to grab hold of her and never, ever let her get more than an arm's length away for the rest of his life. But he couldn't read her reaction to his sudden reappearance. Was her lack of response due to shock or due to horror? Abby had responded the way he'd dreamed that Anya would. But Anya just stood there as still as a statue, only her eyes moving as the remained locked with his as he walked closer and closer to her. He stopped about a metre away from her and she finally moved, raising her chin so that she could continue to meet his gaze.

He couldn't read her. Her expression could be fear or shock. He broke the silence, "You missed me, yeah?"

Anya's eyes suddenly welled up with tears. A grimace of a smile touched her lips as one tear ran down her cheek. A small, single nod answered him and she whispered, "We didn't know what had happened to you."

She broke his gaze and turned to place the sheet in the basket. She bent slightly to gather up the end that Abby had dropped, and she then turned to face him fully.

It seemed that the world tilted on its axis, throwing him off-balance. All of the air whooshed out of his lungs and he couldn't seem to drag in more air. His hands grew icy cold and a rushing sound in his ears blocked out the noise of the chickens and the birds in the trees and the faint noise of the surf.

Anya watched his eyes run the length of her and then catch her eyes in a question before rapidly scouring her body again. After a long, silent moment he sharply drew in a breath. She didn't fight the urge to protectively cover the swell of her abdomen with both hands.

"Mine?" he asked as he watched her hands slide into place. His gaze was so intense and penetrating that she imagined she could actually physically feel it.

She looked at him and time slowed so that a heartbeat took an hour.

He didn't know much about pregnancy. He hadn't paid much attention to it in the past, but she seemed small. Surely she would be bigger if it was his? The agony of thinking of her with another bloke stabbed through his gut . . . thinking of another man's child growing inside her body. He felt like time stood still, waiting for her answer . . . Hoping that this child was his, a dream that suddenly meant everything to him. He hadn't known that he wanted a conventional life. He hadn't known that the idea of a wife and children could make the future seem bright and wonderful. And the alternative loomed large. The alternative made his hands clench into fists. It made his vision narrow with black around the edges and made him picture himself beating the unknown father to death with his bare hands.

He took a step toward her and made a slight motion with one hand, unclenching the fist and asking a question with the gesture.

"Is the baby mine?"

"Yeah." She nodded with the answer. She found him suddenly beside her, crowding her up against the wash basket.

"Jesus," he muttered, and then he smiled a half-smile and slid his arms around her, pulling her to him. He held her tightly, allowing himself to feel actual, real joy at the news despite her stiffness and the fact that she wasn't embracing him in return. He stepped back and tucked his chin to look into her eyes since she wasn't responding.

He thought back to the two times they'd had sex. That first time by the lake, he'd actually—for a small moment—hoped for this outcome. He remembered lying atop her in the grass, being overwhelmed by the fact that she'd come to him and had initiated the encounter . . . murmuring to her that he didn't have a condom. She said, "Me either," and then she had hesitated, torn, fighting the urge to play it safe with the urge to live in the moment. He kept kissing her neck, waiting for her response. She had finally responded, "Just pull out at the end." He remembered the surge of triumph and pleasure he felt at her words. He'd hidden the feelings from her, hadn't let her see the burning in his eyes at the idea of no latex barrier between them. It was not a pleasure he ever indulged, and the very idea of getting to really feel her body increased his ardor. He also made the decision to NOT pull out. She had said it as a statement, she hadn't asked a question and gotten agreement from him. If this was the only time he was ever going to be with her, he wasn't going to do it by half measures. If they'd had a condom with them, he would have worn it if she wanted him to, but he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity.

When he didn't pull out, she didn't respond immediately, seemingly resigned to a deed that was already done. He about half expected her to rage at him since he was willing to concede that he'd tricked her by not responding to what she had considered an agreement. She hadn't raged, she had just asked her question with a steady gaze into his eyes. He answered her unspoken question by saying, "You said to pull out. I never said I would." But later in the back of the Land Rover she had said that she didn't regret it. At the time, he indulged in a fantasy about his baby beginning to grow inside her with both of them none the wiser. He had hoped there would be another opportunity to be with Anya, and had debated keeping a condom with him from now on. On the one hand, if she would throw caution to the wind and bare back again he didn't want to admit to having a condom available, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't be rash like that again. He decided that having sex with her with a condom was better than her being willing to but refusing due to lack of protection. The second time they were together they had used one. So despite the odds—just one time without protection—and his fantasy had come true. His baby had been growing in her body.

"What's wrong, Anya?" he didn't let go of her, but held her in a loose embrace.

She gazed into his eyes, asking a question he didn't understand.

"What? What are you asking?" he queried.

After a long moment, she sighed and she relaxed the tenseness of her body, "I don't know, Tom. I don't know what I'm asking. There are about a million questions and a million answers and a million emotions all jumbled up in my head right now."

Abby had walked closer, sensing that a distraction might be helpful in this particular homecoming. She said, "The questions will keep. Are you hungry?"

He turned his head to answer, "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Then come in the kitchen and I'll feed you," she smiled broadly as she gestured toward an open door at the rear of the house.

Tom turned to follow, giving Anya no choice but to walk with him by clasping her right hand with his left. She seemed too dazed to do anything but go along. In the kitchen, he sat at the large table and attempted to pull Anya down into his lap. He hadn't really expected her to sit there and wasn't surprised when she sat opposite him at the table. Abby was chattering behind Tom, "How long have you been looking for us? How'd you find us?"

"It's taken me about two months to find you. I thought you were probably on the coast, and I knew that Dorset was what we had planned on before, but it still takes awhile to ask around and figure out who has good info and who doesn't."

"We have added three to our family since you left," Abby said and Tom saw Anya catch Abby's eye over his shoulder, silently communicating something to her. Abby went on, "Nigel, Jeff, and Amy met up with us and have helped us get this place up and running. We have managed to rig up a way to have a hot shower occasionally! Can you imagine?! I won't ever take that luxury for granted ever again." She laughed as she said it.

Tom's ability to tune into Anya's emotions by watching her expressions and body language had always been extraordinary. The silent communication between her and Abby and the mention of two new men would have been enough to heighten his awareness, but those facts combined with the way Anya now sat tensely in her chair caused clanging alarms to go off in his head. He felt his hackles rise and new immediately that the newcomers were a threat. Perhaps not a threat to The Family and not a threat to Anya, but a threat to him and his new dream of a family. The family of three that he would do anything – absolutely anything – to protect. He stared into Anya's eyes. Daring her to say something. Wanting her to say something. Knowing that she wouldn't say anything.

It had long been Tom's habit to wait and allow things to come to a head naturally. Jail had taught him to wait and bide his time even when the desire to act was so strong that he could barely think. He had learned to hold every muscle still, to appear as cold as ice, to wait for the other person to act first so that he could react and turn the situation to his advantage. His muscles knew how to calmly lie passive even though his mind wanted to lash out, to turn over the massive table, to explode and make Anya tell him which of the two new men she had been fucking in his absence. But he didn't. He just communicated his suspicions with his eyes and sat there with the appearance of calmness.

Anya's hands began to fidget and she tucked them under the table. She broke his gaze and looked out the massive windows that looked toward rolling hills and the sea. "I'll go finish hanging the wash," she said and pushed her chair back. He let her go without a word.

"She's missed you, Tom. We've all missed you." Tom didn't turn to look at Abby, even though her tone indicated a desire to give comfort.

"Does everyone know the baby is mine?"

"Yes. She didn't talk about it much at first, but she never made an effort to keep that a secret. She was lost without you. She has really needed you."

"She doesn't seem too happy to have me back."

"Well, I wouldn't judge how she feels about your return on how she's acting right now. Things may be complicated for a bit, but if you can keep yourself from acting like a berserk Viking and confirming her worst fears about you, it will all work itself out."

"Berserk Viking, huh?"

"Yeah. Remember that you have the upper hand. That is your baby she's carrying and you have loved her and looked after her for a long time. You have some serious history with her. That carries a lot of weight. Don't let loose your primitive urges to smash skulls and drag her back to your fire by her hair just because another bloke is interested. Be honest and upfront with her and let her work it out."

"Just how interested is this other bloke?"

"I'm not saying more than I already have. You've been back less than an hour. You and she have a lifelong connection through that baby. It gives you the time and the ability to sit back and prove to her that you have left your life of willy-nilly violence behind you."

"I didn't know that I had."

"Trust me, Tom, if you want Anya and your baby, then you have left that life behind you."