Dang, the title's almost longer than the chapter(let)! It means, roughly "Who watches the watchmen?" by the way.
14: Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes?
Tracy Island, TinTin's room-
Their kiss had deepened to something more breathless and probing. His hands shifted, but only to caress her slim, curving back. She was shaking; wanting, and very afraid to want, their minds blending further with each gulped breath and slight movement.
Then something rapped three times, hard upon the threshold; a cane's brass head against painted wood. Both of them jumped, separating like they'd been sprayed with a garden hose.
Looking wildly (caught!) across the room, they saw Grandma Tracy's small, erect figure. The old lady was just about breathing fire and summoning thunder.
"You," she snapped, pointing to Gordon. "Get on upstairs to your room! I'll be there directly to explain a few things that your daddy evidently ain't managed to get across, yet!"
"Right. Yes, ma'am," he replied glumly, wondering whether it wouldn't be safer to leave for Gamma Base, now; swimming, if need be. But then, casting a swift, concerned glance at TinTin, Gordon stood his ground and gathered the courage to say,
"Grandmother, I… I'm not playin' about, this time. I love her."
Victoria's stance shifted, and her grim expression softened, ever so slightly.
"Maybe you do, maybe you don't, Red. It ain't always a feller's heart that's in love, if you take my meaning."
Poking with her cane, Grandma began driving him toward the door.
"Go on, now. Git! Shoo!"
But…
"She's not in any trouble? I mean, you'll not scold her, surely? TinTin was… 'Tis entirely my fault, Grandmother. I lost m' head an' forced th' matter!"
The former Victoria Culver Spirit-Horse began to laugh.
"Sure you did. Just like a certain handsome young cowhand had 'a "force" me... back when I was a slim, pert little thing, and the fellers 'ud come from miles around, just to have a look. Get on outta here, Red. Believe it or not, I ain't gonna yell, and she ain't in no trouble. You, on the other hand, are fixin' to get yourself gelded with a butter knife!"
All of this time, poor TinTin had been shaking like an entire grove of aspen trees, gazing from Gordon to Grandma and back again. He truly was a hero; courageous even in the face of Victoria Tracy. TinTin ducked past the old lady's cane to join her young champion and kiss his sunburnt cheek.
"Go," she whispered (loving him with her soft dark eyes and a quick brush of the hand). "All is well. I would like very much to speak with Grandmere… but I thank you for trying to defend me, Mon Coeur…" (Another kiss) "…Mon Amour…" (A third, leaf-light, sunshine-warm) "…merci mille fois, et mille fois Je t'aime."
Victoria snorted rudely.
"He gets the picture, girl, and them hormones're about to come jetting straight outta his ears. Let him be, afore he up and explodes."
Shooting a very direct, stern look at Gordon, Grandma Tracy said,
"You, cold shower. Now!"
Then, swinging about on the stable tripod of cane and two legs, Victoria faced TinTin Kyrano.
"You, set yourself down. Time we had us another girl-to-girl talk."
And so the day had been saved. Here, at least.