A/N Now I'm hardly even writing for reviews and what people think. They could bash this story all they want, I don't care. I am not going to stop! I have to finish this!

Chapter Ten: Ich liebe dich

Yvette had been home for nearly two weeks. After a long hard day at the stables, the waiting bathtub was a Godsend. She filled it with steaming water hot enough to boil lobsters and dropped in some bath salts. After the salts she poured a small amount of plumeria scented oil into the hot water. The scent began to fill the air of her bathroom. Removing her robe and tying her hair up into a messy bun, Yvette lowered herself into the hot bath. She let out a soft sigh of relief. The fizzling salts and sweet scent relaxed her and she sank chin deep into the water.

After soaking for a few minutes she grabbed a clean rag and some body wash. Slowly she started to wash away the sweat and grime from the day's work. She had helped Aure muck every single stall, bathe half of the horses, groom all of the horses, clean the tack rooms, sweep the loose hay, fix a broken fence section, tend to the yard, and sweep and spray the front parking lot clean. It had been a very, very long day. Closing her eyes she leaned her head back against the wall. Taking a few very deep breaths she reopened them and reached for her razor and cream. No, Yvette wasn't one of those French women who didn't shave often. She actually shaved regularly. Never had she liked the prickly feeling of leg or underarm hair. It bothered her…

Just as she finished shaving there was a knock at the door. She grimaced, "Can't a girl relax for one fucking moment!" Standing she grabbed her towel and robe. While she dried off she called out to the person at the door, "One minute! Don't go anywhere!" Suddenly she remembered her dad said he was coming for a short visit…but he said he wouldn't get there until at least eight. It was only six-thirty. Quickly she dried off and grabbed some clothes. In a hurry she pulled on some undergarments, a black cotton skirt, and a cream colored tank top. Pulling her hair out of the bun, she ran a comb through it and headed for the door hoping who she could only assume was her father was still there.

At the door she put on a smile. As she turned the knob and pulled it open she said, "Papa! You're early!"

It wasn't her Papa.

Yvette was shocked to see Murphy standing at her door.

Her jaw hit the floor, "Murphy...What…What…" She couldn't find the rest of the words she was looking for. Instead she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

He smiled at her as he pulled back, "Surprise."

She smiled, then smacked his chest, "I was in the middle of a very relaxing bath you dick!"

"How was I supposed to know?" He raised a brow, "Is that why you smell so good?"

She shrugged and beckoned him into her little home.

Murphy looked around the small place. It put the cottage he and his family lived in look like a rat hole. Her small house had neat, clean furniture, a small kitchen, and an open and welcoming fireplace he could see her sitting by in the winter. An open door he could see into depicted a woman's bedroom with dark oak furniture. He liked it. Small, but nice.

Yvette was in the kitchen looking around for stuff, "Um, would you like something? Anything? A drink, I've got some stuff somewhere."

Murphy walked up to her and stilled her. He reminded her of a bird suddenly spooked by the whinny of a horse or the revving of an engine. He put his hand on her shoulders, "I'm fine. Right now the only thing I want is you." He kissed her deeply.

Her heart had been pounding in surprise when he arrived. Now it was pounding with desire. When the kiss broke, she looked up into his endless blue eyes. Taking his hands, she led him to her bedroom. The nice aesthetics of the rooms were lost to the both of them. The only thing either of them wanted was the other person.

Two Hours Later

Yvette's eyes popped open. She was nestled against Murphy's sleeping form and using his chest as a pillow. What in the world was that horrid racket? Sitting upright she listened intently for a few minutes before realizing it was her front door.

"Merde!" She jumped out of bed and scrambled for her clothes.

Murphy woke up, "What's going on?"

She pulled on her discarded clothes, "Currently there is someone at my door. I can only assume it's my dad. I thought you were him when you got here. Well, now he's here." She pulled her tank top on and stopped at the door, "Please, I beg you; wait here until I can butter him up a bit. Papa…Well…I'll tell you in a minute." She stepped out into the main room and straight to the door. When she opened it she smiled, "Sorry, Papa, I was taking a nap when you got here. Please come in, sit down."

Alain walked into the house and sat down on the couch, "I was knocking on that door for almost half an hour! Look!" He held up his left hand. The knuckles were bruised.

She covered her mouth in dismay, "Oh Papa! I'm so sorry! Why didn't you let yourself in?"

He grimaced, "I forgot to put your house key on my chain."

Yvette smiled and got him something cold to drink as it was a very warm night and he was sweating fiercely. She sat down on the couch beside him, "Papa, do you remember that guy I told you and Maman about last Christmas?"
"The Irish fellow." He looked at her through narrowed eyes, "Why?"

She took in a breath, "Well, when I went traveling I went to go see them."
"Your mother told me."

"Did she tell you I got sick?"

"From the rain. Stayed with kind people."

"Yes, I stayed with the MacManus', Murphy's family. They helped me get better and I went home. Papa, I'm with Murphy. I really have been since last summer."

He took a deep breath, "Alright. I want to know this. When can I meet this Murphy fellow? Do you expect me to go all the way to Ireland with my health?" Alain had never been a vigorously healthy man. Ever since he was forty he had a perpetual cough. He had won a bout with cancer five years earlier, but it had taken its toll. The doctors said he wasn't going to die, he would be weaker.

She shook her head, "Um, no actually. You see, he's here."

"What?"

"He wanted to surprise me. It just happened to be on the same day you would come."

"Well where is the man?"

Yvette stood, "He's in…" It took a lot for her to say where exactly he was because she knew she'd get a very large frown in return. "He's in my room."

And there was the frown.

She smiled, "Let me get him." Stepping into her room, she found him sitting patiently on the edge of the bed near the head. He was looking at two framed pictures in her room. One was on the wall. It was a gorgeous picture of a field with the setting sun. One was on her nightstand. That one was of a very scruffy looking man with long hair and a beard to match. Murphy was looking between the two photos.

"It's your eyes."

He looked at her.

"Your eyes. I had it on the wall, but I couldn't see them when I was in bed. I had to move it to someplace I could. Now put your shirt on. Papa is waiting." She handed him the shirt.

Standing he pulled on the piece of clothing and ran his hands through his hair, "Let's go meet daddy."

She smiled and took his hand. Leading him out into the living room, she cleared her throat, "Papa, c'est mon copain, Murphy MacManus. Murphy, c'est mon Papa." She introduced him as her boyfriend to her father.

Alain looked Murphy up and down. He didn't dislike any race. What he didn't like what Murphy's apparent lack of grooming. That hair! He held out a hand. He looked at his daughter and asked, "As-tu du trouver quelqu'un avec plus de cheveux que le yeti?" (Did you have to find someone with more hair than a yeti?)

Murphy chuckled and took the offered hand, "Pardon, monsieur, de mon apparence." He said, asking a pardon for his looks.

Alain's eyes went wide and he looked at Yvette, "You didn't tell me he spoke French."

"I told Maman."

"She didn't tell me."
Murphy smiled, "Hello, sir, it's good to meet you. Yvette has told me about you and your wife. She loves you both very much." He then looked at Yvette and asked in English, "Does he know about the tattoo?"

"Maman does. He would have a heart attack."
Alain looked at them, "Yvette, what have I told you?"

She sighed, "Désole, Papa, I meant no disrespect. He only asked a question that meant nothing about you." She kissed her dad's cheek, "Please be nice," she whispered in his ear.

"Fine." The man sat down. He motioned for Murphy to sit in the seat across from him, "Let's talk, boy."

Murphy sat down.

Yvette stepped outside and sat on the front step. Her heart was pounding. This wasn't good…Not good at all! She knew her dad disapproved. All her life she had been told how far back her bloodlines ran. She could name every grandsire of hers for four hundred years. Her father was a proud man. He had always hoped his darling daughter would marry a French man who could trace his lineage as well as she could trace her own. But alas, that probably wouldn't happen. She was currently with Murphy and for however long it lasted, there was no hope of some dashing Frenchman to whisk her off her feet.

And then she heard it.

There was a loud, throaty laugh coming from inside the house. Yvette stood and walked inside.

Alain and Murphy were both laughing.

"And then—and then the next thing the horse is suddenly bucking all about and he throws me off. Connor had to try and get the horse away before he trampled me. That damn horse. He hadn't bucked me off for almost three years when suddenly wham! he freaks out for no apparent reason."

Alain was laughing. When he saw his daughter he wiped a tear from his eye, "Oh Yvette, this boy is funny. He was telling me about the time he—"

"He was thrown off the horse. Yeah, he told me that story. I laughed so hard I almost peed."

"He couldn't hold on!"

Yvette couldn't help it. She started laughing. "Connor told me he started to scream like a five year old!"

The father and daughter shared a good long laugh.

Murphy nodded with a blasé look on his face, "Never tell two people the same story…"

Yvette leaned down and kissed Murphy on the cheek, "Don't give me that look." She whispered in his ear, "I think you've made a great first impression."

Alain smiled at the Irishman, "You know, I never liked when my Yvette dated. No one has ever been good enough." He point at Murphy, "But you are the first one to make me laugh." He slapped his knee and laughed, "Haha! I like you, Murphy MacManus."

Three Days later

Yvette kissed her dad on the cheek, "Au revoir, Papa. I'll come for Christmas again."

Alain hugged his daughter, "Alright then, the train is about to leave. I'll see you." He kissed her cheek and picked up his suitcase, "You tell that Murphy the next time I see him he better have some new stories. I haven't laughed so much in a few days in a very long time."

She nodded, "Yes, Papa."

After watching her father leave she walked out of the train station. Murphy was standing there smoking and waiting for her. He put an arm around her shoulder as they made their way to the bus stop.

While they waited, Murphy leaned down and kissed her cheek.

She smiled up at him.

He smiled back, "Yvette."
"Yes?"

"Ich liebe dich." He kissed her forehead.

The bus came and they boarded.

When they sat down, she gave him a strange look, "What does that mean?"

"You'll find out one day."

The entire ride back to the stop they had boarded Yvette tried to guess what 'Ich liebe dich' meant. She couldn't figure it, though.

Back at home, she did a nose dive onto her bed. She was exhausted. Murphy stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched her. Taking in a deep breath he took off his boots and crawled onto the bed beside her.

She turned to look at him and smiled through the hair over her face.

Murphy tucked the hair back behind her ear and kissed her.

The two of them fell asleep on top of the blankets five minutes later.

A/N This chapter goes to Penelope Sweet. She has reviewed and let me know at least one person is reading this. Thanks Sweet. You rock :D