A/N: I was trying to go light on the snark with Bran so he didn't scare Marian off, but he's just not the same man without it. So from now on, he'll be increasingly more snarky. We'll see if she can handle it. Thanks for the reviews and alerts! And hugs to Zute and Biff McLaughlin for their friendship and support.

Almost done with the next chapter: Light My Fire *wink, wink* And now, the Hawke Family's First Day get-together.


But You Can't Choose Your Family

"Where is your friend, Marian?" Leandra eyes zoomed in on her daughter as she came inside the house. Marian's hair had been blown by the gusty wind, and little tendrils fell all around her face. Under her mother's scrutinizing gaze, she tried to tame the locks as best as she could, but decided to leave it just a little messy. Much to Marian's astonishment, her mother nodded approvingly anyway. "Did he have a sudden case of cold feet? We're not that intimidating, are we?"

Shit, the moment of truth. "He, uh… he had to spend some time with…" Maker, she's going to flip. "His son." She said the words just barely above a whisper.

"His son?" Leandra held her breath. A son meant he had a wife, or he'd had a wife, or he had no wife and a bastard! "Marian, who is this man you're seeing? Is he from Kirkwall? Are you seeing a married man from right here in Kirkwall?"

"He's not married! But he does live here." Marian took a deep breath. "You may know him. He owns Kirkwall Printing," she said, following the sound of her brother's voice. "You know, the place over by the-"

"Bran Winthrop?" she shrieked. "He was married to that exotic dancer! I hope this is just another one of your jokes to get me riled up, and if so, it is decidedly not funny."

"I'm sorry, Mother, but I'm not joking." She rushed past a silent Carver after giving him a quick smile and bee lined for the wet bar. As she took a long swallow of wine, a shiver went down her spine. "And Katriela was not an exotic dancer. She was just a… a regular dancer, like a professional, not a stripper." The glass went down on the bar with a loud clink as Leandra approached. "In any case, please don't start in with me, Mother."

"Marian, he's almost old enough to be-" Marian's narrowed brows stopped her from finishing. "Honestly, isn't he too… mature for a young girl like you?"

Marian laughed at that. "Clearly you're still in denial about having a daughter my age."

"I'm simply thinking of your future, dear."

"You mean you're thinking of your future. Future grandchildren, to be specific."

"Is that so wrong? Bethany and Carver aren't any closer to marriage let alone children."

"And neither am I." Carver snorted. Marian glanced at him with pleading eyes, but he remained stoic, secretly amused by the back-and-forth banter. "Really, Mother, Bran's age has no bearing on my ability to have a child." Another large mouthful of wine went down quickly. "New. Topic."

"You'll always play second fiddle to his son," Leandra continued. "And have you thought about what it will be like with him in twenty years? You will still be a young woman, and he will have one foot in the grave."

"Spending all your money on adult diapers," Carver muttered, grinning.

"Oh, please. Such dramatics. He's not that much older than me. People live well into their eighties or longer with all the latest advances in medicine," she argued, knowing it was pointless. "His business has been very successful, and he's certainly more mature and serious about life than most of the men I know." Maker, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

Leandra spoke in the even tone of a woman who had refined her strength and was determined to succeed. "An older man, especially one who has been through a messy divorce and has a grown son, is very much set in his ways. Flexibility tends to wane by the time you reach my age."

"He's not your age!" Marian hated herself when she reacted this way, but her mother seemed determined to push all her buttons.

"What could he possibly see in someone so immature?"

"Mom," she said, louder now. "I'm almost thirty years old. It would hardly make him a pedophile."

Bethany giggled as she entered the room, embracing Marian. "Don't let her get to you," she whispered.

"He's still too old for you," Leandra said stubbornly. "He's almost the right age for a woman like me though."

"Are you crazy, Mother? I'm a bit grossed out by what you've just suggested."

"Ooh, Mom's cougar tendencies are showing again," Bethany joked. "Rawrrr!"

Laughing to herself, Marian drained the glass and then poured some more, hoping to blur the image in her head with the next glassful. Her anger wouldn't dissipate though. "I think you need to get a life and find your own man, Mom. Before it's too late."

"Do not take that tone with me, Marian Elizabeth," she chided. "I haven't said anything offensive enough to cause such disrespect."

Marian had to clench her teeth. "Sorry." How was it that her mother made her feel like an awkward young girl again? Like a teenager who just wanted her mother to be pleased with her. She sighed. Perhaps it was the pending storm making the atmosphere tense, or maybe it was the direction the conversation had taken. No matter which. The night would be full of turbulence from now on, she knew it.

"I know you develop attachments to these men, dear," Leandra called over her shoulder, waving for them all to follow her to the kitchen. "But you must consider this from all angles. His former wife's divorce settlement was more than substantial, and I suspect between child support and alimony, he's not as wealthy as he pretends. Is Katriela part owner of the business?" Marian's blank expression answered her. "See? You don't even know the most basic of things in regard to this man."

"No, I don't, and that is because we have only just started dating! So please, can we change the subject?" Maker, she's right. I have no idea how deep Katriela's claws sink into his bank account.

"He is quite attractive," said Bethany. "Is he incredibly romantic too? Have you fallen in love with him already?"

"We. Just. Started. Dating!" Her voice quivered with emotions she had hoped to keep under control. Marian shoved a deviled egg into her mouth and pointed to it, indicating her inability to respond further.

Carver smirked. "Well Beth, I think you just got your answer."

"'uck you, 'arver."

"What is he, fifty years old?" Carver asked. "I bet he takes Viagra." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, and Marian wondered why he was as spiteful now as he had been when they were children.

"He's not much over f-for-ty," Marian sputtered as the canapé went down the wrong way. "It's only a ten year difference, for Maker's sake."

"Oh, so you're just in time for his mid-life-crisis." Carver threw back the last of his drink and set the crystal glass on the counter top. "You can be his trophy wife while he tools around in a sports car with pretty young girls and spends hours pampering them at the spa."

"Carver, leave her alone," Bethany admonished while handing her mother some serving spoons.

"While we're discussing age differences," Marian said in a tone denoting anything but humor, "what about that schoolgirl you've been seeing? Surely statutory rape must enter your mind at times."

"That's enough!" Leandra threw her oven mitt on the counter without her usual grace and decorum, stunning them all into silence. "I won't have this day ruined by the two of you sniping at each other. Carver, please get the big platter on the top shelf in the pantry."

Carver stalked away, but not before poking Marian's arm, hard. Marian had to bite back a grimace as she silently calculated how long it would take before a bruise would appear. Asshole.

Bethany sidled up next to her. "You have to lighten up, Sister. If you don't, Mother and Carver will eat you alive once your boyfriend gets here." Bethany knew her sister well enough to see she was totally smitten with Bran. And she couldn't blame her. Everyone knew his promiscuous reputation, but he was still one of the most desired single men in town, baggage and all. "Play along with the game and try to find some humor in it."

"Easy for you to say, prom queen. Mother thinks you walk on water."

"Hardly," she laughed. "She only wants you to be happy." Laying her hand on Marian's arm, she smiled. "You know, she was hoping you would bring Sebastian. I think you really caught her off guard with this. But I'm happy for you, if you're happy that is."

"I am. He's... not what you'd expect. At all." Soft eyes turned up to look at her sister. "I think you'll like him, Beth. He treats me like a princess, and he's open and honest with me."

"You don't need to convince me. After Sebastian, I was worried you wouldn't find someone better suited for you," Bethany said. "So have you slept with him yet?"

Marian was a bit shocked by her sister's bluntness but smiled wickedly. "Yes. Technically we have slept together... in the same bed."

"Well, who's waiting? You?"

"We both are," Marian lied. "Sex isn't everything, Beth, and as I said, we've only just started dating and-" Startling her, Marian's cell phone buzzed against her hip. She not-so-politely excused herself to another room by waving the phone in Bethany's face.

"I'm not done questioning you yet, Sister!" Bethany shouted after her.

"But I'm done answering!" she yelled back, fumbling with her phone. At reading Bran's first words, a delicious tingle spread through her. The smile on her lips was so immense, she thought her face might crack.

Hello, gorgeous. I've missed you, but I'm on my way now.

Missed you too. Hurry up but don't be reckless!

That bad?

Worse. :(

Here I come to save the day!

LOL! Mighty Mouse!

See you in a few.

Can't wait. :D

Strolling back into the kitchen with her chin held high, Marian addressed her family, the strength and determination of her smile a bit menacing. "Bran will be here shortly, and I'd appreciate if you all would rein it in and not embarrass me by grilling him for any details of his past, present, or future."

"That leaves very little to discuss," Carver scoffed.

"I don't really care," she said. "Then don't speak at all. We'll eat and be gone before you know it."

"All right," Leandra drawled, sounding almost resigned before she came on full tilt. "So help me, if you two don't stop this childish bickering…." She snatched up a napkin and shook it out with a snap. "I trust my children to behave in a manner that befits a member of the Amell family."

"Whatever that means," Carver muttered.

As Leandra saw it, her pride and dignity, as well as her family name, were all she had left, and she intended to keep every last bit of it. "Your father was just as proud of the Amell name as he was the Hawke name. He had no issues with me keeping my family's legacy alive."

"And what has the Amell name done for you lately?" Carver said with a snicker. "Father was a well-respected physician right up until his death. Do you know that some people think you were embarrassed by his holistic healing methods and that's why you never took his name?"

"That's rubbish. And I don't care what some people think. Your father saved the lives of countless people with his healing methods. He was everything to me, Carver. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him. They don't make men like him anymore. Malcolm was moral and brave and more principled than any man I've ever met." Leandra hesitated for a moment, her eyes growing misty.

Here it comes, they all thought.

"But he lives on in my children. I see him in you, Carver, in the way you walk and carry yourself, the way you strive to better yourself and your family. I see his heart in Bethany, in the way her eyes soften when she treats a patient at the clinic, and the way she cares for the homeless at the soup kitchen. I see him in Marian, in her intelligence and common sense." Leandra looked at Marian, who was so moved by her mother's surprising words she could only produce a weak smile and nod as she fought back tears. "And at times, you keep your emotions bottled up, Marian, just as he did, but I can still see your father's romantic notions of love in you." Leandra did not wipe away the tears, letting them run down her cheeks. "My children are the best of Malcolm Hawke, and the best of me. Never forget that."

As her children surrounded her in a rare group hug, Leandra expressed her pride in them, saying how strong and courageous her children had become. When they pulled apart and started drifting toward different areas of the kitchen, Marian enjoyed all the genuine smiles on the faces of her family, burning the memory in her mind, for she was sure at least another year would pass before such a monumental event occurred again.

Marian looked at her watch just as the doorbell rang. Bran's timing was perfect.

"I'll get it!" the Hawke children all said at once, although no one made a move but Marian.

"I will get it, damn it," said Marian between clenched teeth. "You all stay in the kitchen."

She rushed to the foyer and opened the door, feeling slightly out of breath. There he stood in the doorway, smiling and holding a bottle of wine wrapped in shiny purple cellophane. A gleam of admiration lit his eyes as he took her in from head to toe, as if she were a work of art. She blushed when she noticed him staring, but couldn't help admiring how handsome he looked too.

"You look lovely, Marian."

"Thank you. You look pretty good yourself." She smiled back at him, wondering why he was gazing at her with such intensity. Is he turned on already? Maybe he wasn't just saying that…. "Come on in, Bran. It's about to storm," she said, pointing out the thick and dark, low-level clouds. She swept him into the house and out of the impending rain with a flourish toward the sky worthy of a seasoned weather girl. "The nor'easter is moving in fast. There is supposed to be a storm surge to the coastal areas, and depending on the track, we could have an ice storm."

Bran's eyebrows rose and a faint smile curled his lips. "Have we been reduced to conversations about the weather already?"

She threw her arms around his shoulders and squeezed him quickly. "That was kind of pathetic, wasn't it?" At once, the energy resonating between them was a tangible thing, and she let go of him with a sigh. "I'm so glad to see you, Bran, but let's keep the touchy-feelies to a minimum for now."

He made a small grunt of disapproval. "For now." Her expression seemed off somehow, her lips so tight and straight, her eyes pinched a bit. "Are you all right? You have a slightly... constipated look about you."

"Ew. Not attractive, I'm sure." For his benefit, she managed a chuckle, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm all right... now. Was brunch nice?"

"Luke and I caught up on his studies, and he told me about a girl he's interested in." He shrugged. "It was nice few hours."

He deliberately didn't mention Katriela. Marian's thoughts raced, crashing around in her head. Maybe Katriela came on to him. Maybe they had words. Maybe Marian's name came up and Katriela lambasted her, trying to turn Luke against a woman he didn't even know yet! An awful feeling took up residence in her gut. The ten paces before she reached her mother loomed before her, to the inquisition awaiting inside the kitchen.

"You can tell me more about brunch later if you'd like." She smiled encouragingly, and he nodded. Then she took his hand and led him forward. "Time for the introductions," she squeaked. He squeezed her sweaty hand, and it both relieved her fears and warmed her heart. Temporarily.

Aside from her palms being damp, the change in her was subtle, with no real outward effect, no disturbance of the wholesome, cheerful nature that was the very essence of her being. But when Leandra greeted them, Marian became solemn.

"Mother, this is Bran Winthrop. Bran, this is my mother, Leandra." Her mother looked at him and squinted her eyes, cocking her head a little to the side, the expression on her face hard to read.

Leandra reached out to shake his hand, but he surprised her by taking her hand and stepping forward to kiss her cheek. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hawke."

"It's Amell, Leandra Amell," she said with a slight crack in her voice.

Marian winced. Shit, I forgot to mention that.

"Welcome to my home, Mr. Winthrop." Her mother's smile was forced, but convincing.

"Please, call me Bran."

Leandra stiffened. "And you may call me Leandra. After all, you're no longer a teenager, are you?"

After pinning her mother with a glare, Marian introduced Bran to Bethany and Carver. When Bran said something funny, Bethany laughed hysterically, and Marian knew he had passed her approval already. Carver, on the other hand, was unusually quiet again. Not withdrawn or angry, but thoughtful, his eyes analyzing every sentence, reading every gesture and tick as if preparing to write a profile on the man.

Marian shoved the bottle of wine into Carver's hands. "Can you go uncork this and let it breathe on the dining room table?"

Carver shrugged. Every time she saw her brother's cold, expressionless face, she flinched inside. Marian wondered if her brother was a sociopath after all. At least a part-time sociopath.

Once everyone had a drink in their hands, they sat down and made small talk, snacking on chips and dips Leandra had set out. Bran seemed comfortable speaking about his shop, his son, even the loss of his parents in a tragic airplane crash. He sensed the concerted effort to keep the conversation going, keeping it light, talking about easy things, things that would not upset anyone.

Marian was reserved and quiet, presumably letting the ice break so everyone would feel more comfortable with each other. But she was ready for the shoe to drop at any moment, even though no one had broached a scandalous or embarrassing topic. Not yet. Her uneasiness bothered Bran more than he wanted to admit. Without her input, the conversations were often stunted and eventually they all labored on trivia and niceties until Carver mentioned the recent tax increases.

"We need more big business in Kirkwall, or we'll never generate enough tax revenue for improvements," Carver said. "I have potholes the size of craters on my street."

Bran's hackles went up. "Particular big businesses would be beneficial, like restaurant chains and a movie theater." He squared his shoulders, putting his drink down with a thud. "Unfortunately, we have politicians who spend money hand over fist on projects that are designed to do nothing but get them re-elected, like our spineless First Selectman, Marlowe Dumar. He doesn't have an inkling about what it takes to run a small business. And the answers to Kirkwall's problems are not to be found in the archetypal big-box stores."

Leandra's glass went down with a louder thud. "Marlowe has done everything in his power to keep the citizens safe and informed, to keep funds flowing to our schools, to keep our drinking water free of toxins. He is only one man, after all, and there are many other politicians hindering Kirkwall's local growth."

The revelation of Leandra and Dumar's friendship registered on Bran's face, and Marian tensed. "Who needs a refill?" she asked with fake merriment. Only Carver lifted his glass as Marian stood. Dear Maker, please don't let this escalate….

"That's all fine and good," Bran said, "but if Dumar succeeds in bringing a big-box office supply chain to Kirkwall, I will be out of business within two months."

Marian jumped in, supporting Bran with similar information of her own in an attempt to diffuse the tension. "Even my company is thinking of relocating because of expenses. Or worse, they could sell KE to a large corporate firm. It's getting harder and harder for KE to stay afloat these days."

The underlying strain that had tightened Bran's features faded at her supportive remark. "KE is in a similar situation to my business. Between the rent I pay in the building owned by Dumar's buddies, the high taxes, and the lack of small business funding, my net profit margin has seen a dramatic decline since he's been in office."

Leandra gritted her teeth and held back the unseemly urge to tell Bran where to stuff his opinions. "I could go on and on about Marlowe's successes, just as you think you can about his failures. But this discussion has no place here, not today." She rose from the couch, her eyes searching his face for regret.

"I'm sorry, Leandra," Bran said with an apologetic tip of his head. "I meant no disrespect. But my business was built by the blood and sweat of my father. I've always assumed the day I had to lock up for the last time would not come for many, many years. But things are changing here in Kirkwall, and not for the better." Bran picked up his drink and took a sip, then shook his head. "It's hard to let go of a dream you've nurtured like a child." He looked at Marian, and the warmth in her gaze gave him a ray of hope. "But perhaps I need to work on my pessimism."

Leandra watched as Bran sat back, gazing at Marian with his hand on her arm, his smile only for her. It was quite apparent when their eyes met that he had an effect on her. Leandra knew she was unaccustomed to feeling that way around a man. True, he had insulted her friend, but Leandra respected his devotion to his family's business, the high standards he set for himself. She knew he had to give it everything he had when his father died. He was passionate about what he did, and he maintained a high standard of excellence known throughout Kirkwall. I'll give him a break this time. "Bethany. Carver. Come help me in the kitchen." Dutifully, they followed, giving Marian and Bran the opportunity to talk alone finally.

"So far, so good, right?" he said to Marian. "Well, until that last bit."

"I agree with you though. Dumar's an idiot." She moved slightly, her body shifting closer to his. "But Mother has been friends with him for years, and she's not really savvy about politics. Just loyal to her friends."

When he felt her tension subside, he risked resting his hand on her thigh. "Why have you been so quiet until now? It's not your style, as far as I've been able to observe."

"No, it's not. I'm off my game today." She sighed as she raised her gaze to Bran. "My mother said some kind things about me before you arrived, and I just know she's going to negate it all one way or another. Dinner will be the true test."

He put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. "Have a little faith, Marian." He leaned into her, pressing his lips to her ear briefly "I want to kiss you," he whispered. If anything, the desire in his eyes intensified as Bran felt Marian's discomfort. "Everywhere."

"Maker, don't say that right now."

Bran took a slow moment to unveil the most lascivious of smiles. "Does it turn you on?"

"I... yes," she whispered, unable to lie. The combination of her nervousness and his seduction flipped her stomach with nausea. "But... let's just… go and see if they need help." She forced herself to smile.

He stared after her retreating form for a long moment. He didn't think it was what he said, but she seemed in quite a hurry to get away from him. Or maybe she just wanted to speed things along, to get dinner over with as soon as possible. The second option was the preferred course of action, and he leapt from the couch to assist in any way he could.

When Bran entered the kitchen, Leandra looked up from where she was mixing fruit for a salad. She gave him a small smile before handing him the bowl.

"Would you mind putting this on the table?"

"Not at all." He smiled brightly. "If there is anything else I can do to help, just let me know."

Leandra ran an assessment through her head as he walked away. He certainly had manners, an excellent upbringing, and an education. He was masculine and self-assured, but not overly arrogant—not that she had detected so far, at least. Then again, he was trying to impress them, but didn't want to look like he was trying to impress them. Leandra knew this game well. Perhaps he was going to be suitable for Marian, but she would keep a close eye on him. If their relationship grew more serious, she would also have to do something about his former wife, if the rumors circulating through the social circles held any truth.

"Dinner is just about ready," Leandra announced. Loaves of bread sat on the counter next to her, the Veal Oscar on the stovetop cuing their taste buds to its forthcoming placement on the immaculately dressed table.

When Bran excused himself to wash up, Marian almost followed him to the bathroom, but Bethany took the opportunity to corner her.

"I don't think he's too old for you. And those eyes! I swear, Marian, if he looked at me the way he looks at you, I'd swoon at his feet."

"Really? I mean does he look at me like… like he…."

"Wants to shag? Yes." Marian rolled her eyes. "He also looks at you like he's into you, like it's more than simple fascination. Do you think he could be the one, Marian?"

"I don't know. I've known him for a few years, but never had more than a short conversation with him until the other day." For a moment, she stared off dreamily, and Bethany giggled. "Yes, I know it seems crazy, but I've never felt connected to someone this quickly before."

"Is he a good lover?"

"Really, Beth, I don't think that's-"

"Seeing the beautiful Hawke sisters whispering in a darkened corner makes me a bit nervous." Bran flashed Bethany his most mischievous smile and brow waggle.

Marian rolled her eyes as he shifted next to her, putting his arm around the small of her back and drawing her to him. His gaze smoldered with unspoken desire. Caressing fingers were hidden from sight, his hand at her side drawing tiny circles, causing frissons of heat to shoot through her, frissons she steadfastly ignored… more or less. I could drag him to the upstairs bathroom….

"Time for supper!"

Damn it!

Leandra rang a dinner bell for emphasis, causing a variety of snickering sounds from all directions. The little party took their places at the dining table, shining with silver and sparkling with crystal, dozens of assorted knives, forks, and spoons, set out for Maker only knew what reason. For all the polite conversation so far, Marian was sure the flippant remarks and sly glances would be well underway before she could figure out which fork to stab her food with.

They all joined hands, and thankful prayers were offered to the Maker and Andraste before the platters and bowls made their way around. The oohs and ahhs obviously kept Leandra occupied in complacent silence. Under the table, Marian's foot reached for the comforting contact of Bran's. She never looked at him, though – not really looked at him as she piled her plate high with generous helpings from each dish. Here, at her mother's home, there was no need to stand on ceremony all the time, or so she thought.

"Aveline's nutritional supplements seem to be agreeing with you," Leandra said as Marian shoveled some potatoes au gratin into her mouth.

"'Seem'? You're so subtle, Mother." Marian looked over at her; Leandra's scowl was clearly directed at what she deemed uncivilized eating behavior. Marian watched the wheels turning in her mother's head and impulsively reached for Bran's hand under the table for support. Her anxiety came off her in waves Bran swore he could feel.

Leandra's eyes darted to Bran, pinning him with a prying stare. "Your former wife has certainly kept herself in fine form these last years. She hasn't succumbed to the usual sags and lumps that befall most women."

Marian froze. Nice dig at me, Mother.

"Is it yoga and vegetarianism," Leandra asked, "or is she simply practicing some form of magic?"

"I don't know, but her plastic surgeon might be." Bran smiled, holding tight to Marian's hand.

Carver and Bethany could only stare at Leandra, who didn't make a move or a sound. Marian wanted to gloat, to rejoice in her mother's discomfort but figured it wouldn't serve any purpose. Bran took it all in with casual indifference - and a mouthful of Veal Oscar.

Marian's smile tightened. "Anything else you'd like to ask Bran, Mother?"

Leandra narrowed her brows, but Bethany chimed in before she could retort. "You'll never guess who I ran into the other day!" All eyes went to her. "Do you remember my first real boyfriend, Cullen?"

"That nerdy guy who was always spouting medical facts?" Carver asked.

"One in the same. But now he's that nerdy guy who turned out to be handsome and rich. He's a brain surgeon! Totally blew me away."

"And? Is he married with children?" Leandra asked, putting a vague edge on the question.

"He is not. I have a date with him next week."

That's all it took to turn the tide. Marian smiled warmly at her sister, knowing Bethany could take whatever her mother would dish out. Bran's hand rested on Marian's thigh for a brief moment of support, which practically made her sigh with longing now that the heat was off her. The conversation was light and teasing now, sprinkled with high school anecdotes and experiences from everyone's past. Bethany was all but heading to the courthouse for a marriage license by the time the last of the food scraps and dishes were cleaned off the table.

Marian and her sister gathered the plates and silverware, rinsing them off and loading the dishwasher, while Leandra wrapped the leftovers. Bran offered to help, but he was shooed away.

He gestured for Carver to join him in the living room. "Let's go put some hair on your chest." Carver smiled at that, and followed behind.

"Now if we can only find someone for Carver." Leandra sighed dramatically. "That is if anyone can stand his brooding long enough."

"Hey! I can hear you, Mother," Carver injected as he left the room.

Leandra didn't give his comment a second thought and touched Marian's shoulder. Drawing her away from the sink, she spoke low. "Your friend is very well spoken, very courteous, and he seems kind enough. All admirable qualities and I certainly don't dislike him," she said. "He also appears to care for you, and I do trust your judgment, dear. However…." Marian's heart leapt into her throat as her mother leaned closer. "I've heard talk among my friends that his former wife wants him back. She's made it quite clear."

No no no…. "She doesn't want him back." Marian was whispering now, her eyes carefully peering around the kitchen. Bethany was busy, up to her elbows in dirty dishes and humming a tune. "She's just being a bitch."

"She loves him, or at least she wants him back so she can try to love him properly this time. She'll stop at nothing when she learns of you."

Too late. "Even if she did want him back, which she does not, he doesn't want her. He told me so. He's had nothing to do with her since-" She cut herself off. Since the rooftop antics. Shit!

Leandra didn't need to guess at what Marian was thinking. "There's something between them, something that may have happened, or maybe didn't happen. I don't know exactly. All I am saying is you should be extremely wary of her. I'll keep my ears tuned to the latest gossip and let you know what I hear." Leandra pulled her daughter into an embrace. "But don't worry, dear, everything always works out for the best."

Memories flooded Marian's mind, remembering the secure warmth of her mother's arms, the soft touch of kisses covering her face when she was frightened as a child. "Thanks, Mom."

"I see the way you look at him, the way your eyes light up when he gazes at you. I don't think you've ever looked at another man like that. It reminds me of when I first met your father. I think I fell in love with him before he introduced himself." She laughed somberly. "And I left poor Guillaume at the altar only having known your father for a short time." She took a deep breath and took her daughter by the shoulders, holding her gaze so she understood the seriousness of her next statement. "You've always been a fighter, Marian, and I've never known you to give up. If you fall in love with this man, and he loves you too, then you fight to keep him."

There was a strange tone in her mother's voice, somewhere between admiration and anxiety. Marian ignored it as best she could, passing it off as overprotectiveness. Where was she last year when I needed to be told to dump the cop!

When it came time to leave, one thing was certain: Bran had impressed her mother enough to encourage her to seek out the unknown rather than to be frightened by it. Marian heard the underlying "love is worth the effort" implication as her mother encouraged her to be relaxed about her future.

"In time, the future will come to you," Leandra told her. "There is no point in hurrying to it." Her mother gave Marian one of her infrequent bright smiles that were like little rewards.

"He's a keeper," Bethany said, winking at Bran as she kissed Marian's cheek. "I'll call you after my date with Cullen." Marian nodded.

"Take care, Marian." Carver gave her a half-hug and rubbed her head with his knuckles.

Progress, Marian thought. She then hugged her mother tightly, appreciative of her concern. "Talk to you soon, Mom. And thanks for the lovely dinner."

"Goodbye, Leandra," Bran said with a hug. "This was a splendid holiday with delicious food and good company. Thank you for the hospitality you and your family extended to me tonight."

"You just take care of my daughter and you will be welcome here any time. And if you don't take care of her, then I will take care of you." No veiled threat there. Nothing but pure menace, and Bran knew it.

"Duly noted, Leandra. And I intend to take care of your daughter, not because you are telling me to, but because," Bran paused and gazed at Marian, "I can't imagine a day without her in it now." Marian reeled, struggling to keep her knees from buckling as he took her hand. The romantic sigh that came from Bethany was much louder than Carver's grunt, but Leandra merely smiled at him and nodded admiringly.

Marian and Bran dashed to their cars as the rain came down in buckets, both thinking of how the night would unfold. During the eight-minute drive to her condominium, she reflected on her mother's comments and thought she did have to question Bran about Katriela and his divorce if things got more involved with them.

But not tonight. Good thing she lived close by. Just the thought of his hands on her caused an excited chill to race along her skin. She flew into a parking spot and raced to her front door with Bran one step behind.