A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone out there for your continued support of this story and for Burn Notice fan fiction! We do deeply appreciate all the reviews, retweets and fav's. This chapter is a bit of a quiet reprieve for our star crossed lovers and a bit of down time for Fiona's family as well while the forces gathering against them make their plans for the future...

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BE BRAVE LITTLE ANGEL

Chapter Eighteen

Rosanna Glenanne rested on her side, her fingers ghosting up and down her husband's uninjured arm while her moisture filled eyes scanned his sharp angular features searching for any signs of pain or discomfort. But Sean remained deeply asleep, thanks to the dose of homemade medicine his own mother had administered hours ago.

She wasn't used to this and despite the tales she had been hearing from both her mother-in-law and Isabelle, she never wanted to get to the stage where she could accept her other half coming home riddled with bullets as a normal occurrence.

"Rosie, sweetheart, ar' ya comin' down fer some breakfast? Liam's back an' Am sure he'll be on his way up ta see Sean soon."

A light tap on the bedroom door followed by the soft voice of her sister-in-law caused the blonde on the bed to look up briefly before turning her attention back to the man who had stolen her heart years earlier.

"I'll be down soon."

After swiping a hand over her eyes, she leaned forward, holding her long golden hair back from her face so she could place a soft kiss to her sleeping spouse's pale cheek. She loved Sean with all her heart and had done so since the third week of his stay with her family in East London.

He'd looked so sad back then and had been so very quiet when he had first come to stay in her family home. To be truthful, she had been a little scared of the brooding stranger whom she and her siblings had been ordered to never talk about outside of the house.

But then one day in that third week, she had come home from school early, skipping her afternoon lessons because during their lunch break Maura Carter had accused her of kissing her boyfriend on the previous night outside the local youth club and in the ensuing fight she had taken a punch to the face, leaving her with a bruised and bloody top lip.

She had wanted to hide in her bedroom while she came to terms with the injustice of taking a beating because of lies told by her so-called friends and try to come up with a story which would satisfy her parents' anger for missing lessons during the most important year of her high school education and their concern for the state of her lip. But he had followed her upstairs and insisted she come down, banging on her door until she agreed to join him in the kitchen and explain to him what had happened to her.

She remembered how daft and embarrassed she had felt, explaining her teenage drama to her parents' guest while he'd cleaned away the blood and made her an ice pack to reduce the swelling to her lip and nose. He'd looked so serious and intense, as if tending to her wounded pride was the most important thing ever.

Rosanna had expected him to brush away her concerns and laugh, but instead he had urged her to help him clear a space in her family lounge and preceded to give her lessons in self defense until her younger siblings arrived home.

It was then while they had sparred and he had taught her a few advance techniques that he had opened up a little and she had learned about the death of his sister and realized that behind the gruff exterior there laid the soul of a good man. From that moment on, she had made sure he only saw her looking her best and most grown up, until after several months of cozy chats while sitting together on one of the sofas, watching TV or playing cards, he had finally succumbed to her charms and had kissed her for the first time at her graduation ceremony.

Her whirlwind relationship with a man who was decade older than she had caused quite the rift in her family, albeit a virtually silent one, as the Flanagans were loyal supporters of the Cause who would never dare say a word against their guest, despite their objections to him courting her.

But she wasn't the love-struck naïve fool her mother had first accused her of being when their affair came to light. She had known who and what he was, why he was hiding out in her parents' spare bedroom so far from his home, why he slipped out at night and didn't return until the wee hours. She had known loving Sean Glenanne was going to lead her into danger, that just being associated with him was enough to make her a target for his enemies, but she hadn't cared, she still didn't care...

What she did care about was that with peace being so close to becoming a reality, her husband and father of her children was risking getting crippled or worse, not for the cause which was so dear to all their hearts, but because his sister had made the mistake of falling in love with the wrong man.

Rose shook her head. There had been a time when she would have sworn that Michael McBride was exactly the right man for Fiona. She'd been so happy to see them growing closer. She'd caught them more than once snogging like teenagers on her sofa when they thought they were alone and she had also seen the coy glances and the sweet fingertip touches they had shared when others were nearby. It had been sweet really, reminding her of her own courtship with Fiona's older brother.

She remembered the first time she'd met the seemingly shy Mr. McBride as he'd come into her home with a group of Sean's friends from the pub and thinking he was too good looking and far too polite to be true. She also recalled the first time she had laid eyes on the pair of them together, his casually dropping by the house while Fiona was there, the way her face had lit up at the sight of him, Rose hoping then he truly was what he seemed to be, because her sister-in-law was in love for sure.

"More's tha pity thot I wa' wrong about thot," she whispered, sad for all of them now. But she hadn't been wrong about how much the man loved Sean's sibling. She knew that deep in her heart.

She understood why her new family was upset with Fiona because she was just as distraught about the possible ramifications of her actions. But she also understood in a way perhaps none of them did why their sister had done what she had, leaving everything behind for a man that she adored.

The young blonde sighed heavily as she eased herself off the bed and away from her beloved, making sure not to disturb him. She bit her lip, staring intently at the bandages covering his shoulder as she straightened up. Rosanna didn't want to see anyone else in the family hurt and if they kept pursuing the fugitive couple instead of helping them, that's exactly what was going to happen. She was going to have to talk to Liam and try to make him see sense, God help her.

()()()()()

Michael sat back in awe and watched as Fiona displayed a never-before-seen talent for charming the elderly. He had thought her success with Esme had been a matter of the correct timing with the right target, but he had been mistaken. In the time it took for them to sup their cups of tea and empty their plates of delicious homemade cake, the flame-haired guerrilla fighter with a penchant for bombs and violence had the trio of senior citizens eating out of the palm of her hand.

More importantly, she had not only secured them an invitation to stay for lunch, but to stay over for the night to rest themselves from their ordeal. He had no doubt in his mind that they would, thanks to his lover's persuasive skills, be insisting that the Creegans spend at least the duration of Ms. Hooley's visit with her sister resting and recovering before the midday meal was concluded.

"Ach, Kim, yer a card," the younger of siblings was still chortling at the tale Fiona had woven about two of her great aunts showing up at a family wedding wearing the same dress. To her credit, her husband was still unsure if this had actually happened or was partially or perhaps wholly fabricated.

The best covers always included an element of truth. He reached over and laid a hand on her knee.

"Am sorry I couldnae give ya a proper wedding, Mrs. Creegan, but me heart wa' in it jus' tha same."

Fiona looked startled for a moment and then her eyes misted over as she picked up on his true meaning. "I donnae need a fancy wedding, Mr. Creegan, I jus' need ya by me side," and she gave him a watery smile as the other three people in the room momentarily faded into the background.

"Well, ya could've at least given har a proper honeymoon, boyo!" Esme declared loudly, breaking the moment. "Traipsing through tha woods indeed, ya should be ashamed o' yarself, so ya should!"

"Mabbe ya'd like ta have a proper bath an' a change o' clothes, dear?" Cathy inquired politely. It was evident in her expression as she eyed the state of Fiona's hair and clothing that she felt a great deal of sympathy for his wife's bedraggled state. "I have a few things that might fit you if you've nothing to change into," she offered kindly.

"Har," the heavy set woman began, thrusting the car keys in Michael's face. "Go an' bring yar things in an' no excuses nar. Thar'll be no refusin' me sister's hospitality nar, so donnae even try."

"Yes, ma'am," the spy responded, quickly leaving Fiona to continue weave her magic and keep the threesome occupied while he tried to determine where best to stash the two rifles he had hidden in the back of Esme's ancient Ford Fiesta before their hosts could get a good look at them.

()()()()()

The head of Clan Glenanne walked out of the kitchen and came to a stop in the hallway beside the long sweeping staircase which led to the upper floors of his mother's house. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb in an effort to push back the headache which had been steadily building over the last hour, ever since the rest of the family had come together in the kitchen for the first meal of the day.

Liam had gone without the luxury of sleep before, but usually after a long job he would return to his own home and crawl into his king size bed and fall asleep in perfect peace and quiet. However, due to tiredness or just the multitude of problems he had on his mind, the eldest Glenanne had failed to factor in exactly how chaotic and how loud his mother's home was going to be with all the extra people wanting to be fed, especially after all nine of his nieces and nephews accompanied by Seamus and Isabelle had descended the stairs in search of their breakfast.

"Alright ya little devils, leave yar Uncle Liam alone, will ya?" Isabelle had sent him an apologetic smile as, with her own baby cradled in one arm, Sean's son Peter in the other and two year old Sian clinging onto her skirt, she had tried to bring order to the wild group getting them to take their seats at the kitchen table. "Patrick, help tha young ones inta thar seats. Boys…" She had turned to the twins. "I need tha high chairs fram tha utility, bring tham over har... Ach, Am sorry, Ma, d'ya have a cloth? Maggie, whot did I tell yar earlier about bein' careful wit' yar drink?"

With all the noise and not wanting to discuss the hunting down their favorite aunt in front of the children, he had hurriedly finished his own meal, washing it down with his third mug of tea and got to his feet. After dropping his plate into the sink, he kissed his mother on the cheek and ruffled baby Molly's soft downy hair in passing before gesturing with a curt nod of his head for Seamus to follow him into the hallway.

Narrowing his eyes, Liam rested his hand on the bannister and faced his brother. "I have a job fer ya. Once yer done in thar an' got tha wee ones settled down, I want ya ta go room ta room wit' this."

He handed his younger sibling the RF scanner he had slipped into his pocket after running a sweep on the kitchen. "Do it yarself, donnae hand it off ta anyone else an' look out fer cameras taa."

Seamus pursed his lips and ran a hand over his chin. "I know yer pissed at Mikey boy fer getting' one over on ya... I mean, he fooled us all, but d'ya really think-?"

"Am takin' no chances," Liam growled when his brother mistook his warranted paranoia for a fit of pique at what the man presumed was the spy and their sister fooling him for so long. There was no need to let Seamus know he'd been aware of who the man was or how badly he'd misjudged the American. "Westen wa' all over this place, in every bloody room. Thar's no tellin' whot tha sneaky bastid left behind. Wa're gonna have ta go through yar place taa an' Sean's tha first chance we get."

"Westen coulda dropped tha lot o' us in tha shite ten times over in tha last eighteen months, but he dinnae," Seamus tried to reason with the older man. "An' he shot thot fella tryin' ta kill Sean, I-"

The head of the family's pale eyes narrowed further, daring the younger man to complete the sentence. He was fully aware that having returned home with their seriously injured youngest brother, Seamus had most likely spent the last twenty four hours being nagged half to death by the women in the house, demanding answers about what had happened. But that was no excuse for continuing to question his leadership.

"Just get it done, Shay. I know whot am doin'." Drawing in a deep breath, he let it out in a sigh. "Am gonna see Sean an' then get me head down fer a few hours. If ya find anythin', anythin' at all, donnae touch it, jus' come an' wake me."

"Okay, brother." Seamus slapped his sibling lightly on the back. "Go rest up, cuz ya look like shite by tha way."

"Thanks fer thot, I feel like shite taa." He began to climb the stairs when he turned back. "Keep yar eye on tha men. I've sent Davy off wit' all thar mobile phones ta get Colin ta check 'em over... Sommit is nae right. Somebody has called all tha surveillance off us."

"Ya think we have a grass in tha ranks?"

"I donnae know, but if nae I can think o' only one reason fer tham pullin' back an' leavin' us alone."

Seamus got his meaning immediately and paled. "Thar getting' ready ta feed us ta tha wolves."

"Aye... I reckon with Fi blowin' thot helicopter ta kingdom come, Westen's friends have cut ham loose. I have nae told Ma, but I came across a dead sniper out in tha woods, head shot an' then stripped o' his weapons... I think if war lucky, we've got 'til this last round o' peace talks ends an' then they'll let slip Michael McBride wa' a spy an' Fiona Glenanne wa' his willing accomplice."

"An' then all hell breaks loose," Seamus spoke softly.

"Aye, then me an' Fi, maybe Sean taa will be in tha sights o' every active hit squad tha executive council still has on tha books an' tha rest o' ya will be targets fer every fecker who's out ta make a name fer his self."

"I'll get on wit' tha bug hunt." The family gunrunner straightened up. "Ya want me ta start quietly stockpiling a few o' tha bigger toys, jus' in case?"

"I want ya ta get on wit' makin' sure we have nae got a rat in tha house an' leave tha rest ta me." He yawned again and then turned back to the stairs.

Meanwhile, Seamus' attention was taken by his wife's voice coming from the kitchen calling out that breakfast was served. "I should -"

"Go an' remember donnae mention thot sniper. Or anythin' else I've jus' told ya ta anybody else – especially Ma."

Finally alone, Liam started up the stairs. Until Seamus finished sweeping for bugs and Colin got back to him on what if anything suspicious was on the mobile phones Davy was taking to him, he had nothing left to do except catch up on his sleep.

()()()

The ex-operative scanned the farmyard for the best place to hide away their weapons with the same precision he had perused through the contents of the house while his partner-in-crime and other things had kept their hosts entertained and therefore distracted. The house was in a similar state of disrepair and he was certain he could offer his skills to continue their stay as long as necessary for them to recover from their travels and plan their next move.

Who knew that all those do-it-yourself projects that his father started and never finished would come in handy one day? Like many of the lessons he had despised in his youth, it had paid off later.

The sound of the elderly man navigating the front porch steps on his crutches shook Michael out of his reverie and he quickly covered the rifles again. The former agent removed the back packs and set them on the ground while palming the keys into his other pocket. He would have to move the firearms when he wasn't being watched quite so closely.

"Yer wife is quite tha story teller," Gerry declared as he ambled up next to the American spy, finally planting himself a short distance from the back of his sister-in-law's rusted saloon car.

"Aye, she is. Me Kim is quite tha lass."

"Seems rather plain thot ya love tha girl," he commented conversationally.

Michael ducked his head and blushed, unable to say the words even under a cover ID.

"An' I love me wife, so I do," Mr. Coleraine continued, attempting to balance himself unsteadily on one crutch as he leaned away from the other. "So I find meself a wee bit disturbed ta see a man with a gun in his coat come inta me house."

The former agent realized a beat too late that he wasn't the only one armed as his host brought a vintage World War Two revolver to bear. Michael could have easily disarmed him, but not without the risk of harming him and alerting the women in the house that there was a problem.

Choosing a cover I.D. on-the-fly is always a challenge. When there's no time to think, it's best to go with something simple that keeps your options open.

"I appreciate ya wantin' ta protect yar wife, sar, as I am tryin' ta do tha same fer me Kimmy."

"Is thot so, laddie? An' what would ya be protectin' har fram?"

Michael had observed the lack of religious trappings within the farmhouse, fancy crucifixes, pictures of the Pope, rosary beads and so forth that he had observed in virtually every other republican home and establishment during his time in Ireland. At their age, the couple should have been steeped in their memorabilia if they were even marginally connected to the Catholic Church.

He had also noticed the ribbons, medals and certificates from the Irish Fusiliers, who fought under the British flag during World War Two and that meant Gerry was either born in Northern Ireland or had crossed over the border to join up during the war. Quickly crafting the tale in his head, Michael used the pause to pretend he was disconcerted by the sight of a weapon pointed at him.

He swallowed thickly and told as much of the truth as he could. "Har brudders."

The wizened face turned into a scowl. "Yer runnin' fram har family? Ar' ya even married then?"

"We eloped an' we married in a church befer tha Lord wit' a man o' tha cloth who wa' willin' ta overlook our sins an' me Protestant heritage fer tha sake o' Kim's soul. I wa' in tha 38th Irish Brigade, seen a lotta things a man shouldnae." Michael had seen many, many things that he wished he could un-see and many more than he wished he could undo and he let the emotion come fully to his face.

He glanced at his potential asset and was relieved to see the man nodding. "When I came back home, I wa' doing a tour in tha North patrolling Londonderry outta tha Ebrington Barracks when I saw a couple o' bastids mugging Kim, probably intendin' ta do worse ta har if I hadn't come along. It stirred up tha rest o' tham, thinkin' I was hurtin' tham deliberate, but Kim spoke up, so she did."

Again, his statement rang true with the older man, as Gerry had now lowered the gun slightly that had been pointed directly at his heart. He hadn't been able to get Fiona off his mind from the moment he'd seen her at the Wishing Well during her REAL IRA recruitment charade. He'd lied to himself at the time that he was excited to have a better asset than Sean. But as they'd danced away the night they'd officially met at the Black Sand, he had known there was something else going on.

"I couldnae get har off me mind after thot. But har brudders dinnae appreciate a soldier boy courtin' thar sister, even after I'd left tha Army an' asked fer har hand proper. So, we ran off," he concluded with a shrug. "Tis true I like ta go back packin' and huntin' but thot wa' nae tha only reason we war out in tha woods. I donnae want ta have ta shoot har family, but I wonnae let tham take har away."

Taking another risk as he noticed the Webley Mk VI was no longer pointed at him at all, Michael flipped the blanket off the two deadly weapons. "I took tha Hectate off a sniper thot wa' trying ta shoot me mates when we war on patrol one night. He dinnae need it anymore and tha other is me own huntin' rifle, a present fram me dearly departed Da." While he hadn't inherited that particular firearm from his father, it was true that he still had Frank's Remington shot gun in his possession.

"So yer sayin' har family means ta take har away, whether tha lass is wantin' ta go or nae?"

"Aye, Gerry, they said as much when we told tham we war gonna marry. We left with little more than tha clothes on our backs and sommit to protect us from whotever we might run inta. But then thot damned ridge I wa' scouting fram collapsed under me and I thought I wa' done in fer sure. Twas a miracle I was nae killed. I coulda died an' left poor Kim out thar in the woods all alone."

He stared fully into Mr. Coleraine's face, a haunted expression clouding his own features as he allowed himself to remember the anguish he had felt when Tom Card had instructed him to abandon Fiona face to her possible fate at the hands of her countrymen on her own.

"Am telling ya honest nar, Gerry, so if ya donnae want us har, I understand. We'll be movin' on—"

The old man stared at him long and hard before tucking the pistol back into his own coat pocket, wavering as he tried to compensate for his bad leg while manuvering the long barrel out of sight.

"Calm yarself, laddie, ya donnae have ta worry. I'll nae be grassin' ya out ta har relatives."

Michael breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the trunk and reached down to retrieve their things.

"Thank ya, sar, yar kindness is most appreciated," the ex-spy said with great earnestness before following their disabled host back into the house.

()()()()()()

As much as he wanted to do nothing more than lie his head to the pillow in the room his mother had always kept reserved for him, Liam's own micro managing nature would not let him rest until he'd checked up on his brother. So he was simultaneously pleased to see Sean's wife exiting their quarters at the sound of his footsteps along the polished wooden floor, knowing that he wouldn't have to intrude on her rest, and profoundly disturbed, as he recognized the look on her face.

If he hadn't been so tired and irritable, he might have found the signs of Rosanna screwing up her courage for battle amusing. Liam knew his youngest brother's even younger wife might seem quiet and demure, but over the last three years they had all come to realize that the girl had a spine of pure stainless steel once she'd made her mind up about something.

"Ya don' need ta say it," the older man interrupted before she could speak. "I've heard it all before."

"Beggin' yar pardon, brother, but I donnae think ya have. Ya think McB—ya think he's twisted har mind all about an' thot's nae so. I saw tham together more than tha rest o' ya an' if anythin' I'd say she's turned ham about. Why else would he have gone away wit' har?"

Because while Rosanna had no doubt in her mind that the youngest Glenanne loved the dark haired man she had run off with body and soul, but it was equally apparent to her that Michael, whether he was McBride or Westen, must feel the same way about Fiona, or he wouldn't be risking the wrath of her brothers to flee with her. He could have left without a word and vanished quietly into the night if he had wanted to, going back to wherever he'd been before as a spy for the American government.

The eldest shot her a look which had left battle hardened men trembling in their boots. "It donnae matter if tis one or both o' tham actin' like love struck fools, it donnae change tha fact thot thar gonna get tham selves killed."

"You're a good man ta be sure, an I'd be proud ta call ya son, so I would..." her father had been very careful in how he worded his response to Sean's request for permission to marry her. Offering one of the Glenanne's shelter during a mission for the Cause had not only been his duty as a loyal volunteer of the PIRA, but it had also been an great honor to be the one chosen for the task.

But allowing this man to take his eldest daughter away with him to an uncertain fate across the Irish Sea had not an easy decision make, especially when her mother had been so against the idea. "And I know ya'll treat me Rosanna wit' all tha love an' respect she deserves, but ar' ya sure it's safe ta be takin' a wife right nar, whot wit' tha bombing campaign jus' wrappin' up and all…"

"Mabbe… me da said much tha same thing ta Sean when yar brudder wanted ta take me away ta his home. But me daddy saw thot he couldnae stop me leavin' short o' tyin' me down an' he knew thot as soon as he woulda let me go, I'da run off any way. And when I got har, warn't ya all har fer me, ta protect me an' make sure nothin' happened ta me?"

"Yar coming ta a point, Rosie, so get thar quickly, girl, cuz Am dead tired right nar fram chasing through tha woods all night tryin' ta make sure nothin' does happen ta Fiona."

"Chasin' Fiona dinnae help keep sommit fram happenin' ta Sean," she countered, staring up into his pale blue eyes with a mixture of sympathy and fire. "I've no place ta tell ya yar business, Liam, yer tha head o' tha family, so ya ar' an' I donnae pretend ta know all tha things yer dealin' wit' cuz thot's yar business."

Even as the older man drew a breath to tell her she was right, it was none of her business, the young blonde soldiered on, determined to finish giving her opinion on the matter before she quieted down.

"But Am har ta tell ya nar thot tha pair o' tham may be love stuck fools, but neither is gonna give up on tha other, jus' tha same as if me Da had tried ta stop me fram marryin' Sean. So, even if ya do manage ta catch tham, ya willnae be able ta separate tham without somebody getting hurt."

As much as it annoyed him to be constantly questioned, he did understand that the girl was only trying to look out for her husband and their sister's best interests. They just happened to disagree about what exactly what actually was everyone's best interest.

"How is Sean?" he asked simply. "No signs of fever or infection? Is he awake?"

"He's restin' as comfortably as he can," Rosie answered stiffly, not daring to push the head of the family any further now she had had her say.

"Go on and get yarself sommit ta eat and I'll take a look fer me self," her brother-in-law instructed, moving past the young blonde to reach for the door handle. "An' I'll keep in mind whot ya said."

Rosanna nodded before turning towards the staircase. That was all she could ask for. As much as she wanted to stay by Sean's side, she didn't think she could bear to look at the wounds on him and still be able to eat something. She'd gone too long with food waiting for him to come home as it was and she wouldn't be any good to anyone if she fainted while Liam was examining her husband.

()()()()()

And in a tumble down little farmhouse far away from her mother's home, Fiona Glenanne was soaking in a tub of merely warm water, but it felt better than the most luxurious sauna she had ever had the opportunity to use. Full of sugary treats and finally able to wash her hair, albeit with a cheap shampoo brand that she would have never chosen on her own, she was basking in the contentment that came with finally being fed, clean and able to relax. In fact, she was so satiated at the moment she was nearly falling asleep again. It was amazing how good being clean could feel.

She saw him then, lingering by the bathroom door and apparently taking a moment to watch her fully exposed form resting comfortably in the slightly cloudy water before he came all the way into the small space, which had obviously been added onto the home as an afterthought once indoor plumbing had become popular in the area.

"Yer beautiful, Mrs. Creegan," he told her sincerely before taking a seat on the toilet next to the tub, settling the clothing he was carrying onto his lap and allowing a small smile to grace his face.

She smiled back and stretched like a cat full of cream. "Thank ya, Mr. Creegan."

"I brought ya some things Cathy insisted ya try on." He was holding up the loud floral print long sleeved midi-dress from another era that was on top of the pile as his smile turned into a grin. The size of the white triangular collars and the wide white cuffs made her giggle at the sight of them.

"Tis a great sacrifice," Fiona declared, dramatically rolling her eyes while her smile transformed into a smirk as she sat up in the faded porcelain tub. "But I've done worse things fer ya, Bobby."

"This might be in tha top ten," he acknowledged, wrinkling his nose at the slight scent coming from the garment. "I think tha old gal's gotten har Sunday best outta moth balls fer ya ta wear while she's washing yar clothes, me darlin' girl."

"Thar a sweet old couple...War very lucky ta have come across tham. So whot d'ya tell Gerry?"

She handed Michael a thread bare wash cloth covered with a plain soap and leaned forward.

Her lover took the hint and began to wash her back, feeling the lack of tension in his movements as he brought relief to her own tired muscles. Fiona knew his finely tuned paranoia would be insisting this was all too good to be true, but for the sake of his health and her own weariness, she would keep urging him to accept this turn of good fortune and use the time for them to recuperate.

Her fainting spell at a critical juncture in their escape had frightened her far more than she was willing to admit. What if it happened again? What if Michael had punctured a lung because he'd been carrying her because she hadn't been able to carry her own weight? What if she…

What if she'd lost the baby?

"Fi?"

The sound of him whispering her real name so close to her ear jolted the Irishwoman from her anxious thoughts and Fiona realized that she hadn't been listening to his response at all.

"Am sorry if ya think I wa' casting ya as tha damsel in distress, but Gerry is ex-military. He understood me carryin' a gun if it meant keepin' yar family fram carryin' ya off against yar will."

"Tis fine, Michael," she said, secretly pleased that he'd mistaken her distraction for something else. He dipped the cloth into the tepid liquid and then wrung it out over her back, rinsing the soap off. "It's true enough thot me family's tryin' ta carry me away against me will." She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his hairy cheek. "I'll make ya pay fer it after lunch," the petite redhead assured him.

"Will ya nar?" her dark haired husband swiped the cloth over the end of her nose.

"Thar's room enough fer ya ta join me," she teased, pushing her fears firmly to the back of her mind. Pregnant or not, Fiona Glenanne hadn't worried for decades and she wasn't going to start now.

This time he did laugh, albeit softly. "Ya have a funny idea about whot's room enough, Mrs. Creegan. "Thar'll be time enough fer thot, me luv and I'd rather nae take a chance on havin' an audience in any event," Michael announced.

Fiona held up a hand and he took the hint, setting the clothes down where he'd just been sitting and helping her to her feet. The former spy handed his beloved a bath robe that quite obviously belonged to Esme from the size of it. She laughed as she wrapped it around herself, swimming in the thick terry cloth while Michael wrapped a towel around her short spiky soaked hair.

"Let's get outta har in one piece and inta France first," he requested.

"Aye, a proper honeymoon in Paris," she approved, leaning into him. She encirled his waist with her swathed arms, pressing her face to his thick sweater and hearing the steady pulse within his chest. "I'll be holdin' ya ta thot, Mr. Creegan."

"Tis a promise, Mrs. Creegan," he agreed with quiet intensity, his heart skipping a momentary beat.

Something in his tone caught her attention and made her look up at him.

"Michael?" she whispered low.

"It's a promise," he affirmed in his own voice.

And then he pulled her in for a long deep kiss, sealing their vows.