Achilles really didn't come to our house very often. Any time we visited with the old man, it was usually at the manor. The main house being a second home to us all made the visits natural and comfortable. But Achilles did come by on occasion, mostly to tell Connor about any news he had heard from their fellow comrades. The old mentor corresponded with all members of the Brotherhood regularly. And he made it a point to have Connor do the same. Considering Connor would someday take over as leader of the Colonial branch of Assassins, I accepted that without giving it much thought. I sometimes inquired about the other members and my husband would give me nonspecific details about who they were and how they helped. But that was as far as it ever went.

The old man didn't only come by to speak to his apprentice. He would also come by to see his granddaughter. Achilles couldn't go more than a day without spending time with Abby. The little girl reciprocated this adamantly. She would go to the front door every so often, open it and tell me bye, that she was going to see Pops. I thought it was adorable, but never let her go alone. She had a habit of becoming distracted with everything. The simplest things seemed to fascinate her. I worried she would wander off on the short trip from our front door to the one of Achilles' house.

The party I threw for Abby's third birthday marked the first get together at my own home. I usually held all celebrations at the manor due to space. But Abby wanted this party to be at home. Mostly so she could show off the new bed that I had gotten her. It really wasn't that fancy. Just a simple toddler bed. Its lack of rails is what made Abby so very excited about it. It required less effort on her part to sneak out of her bed in the middle of the night and crawl into ours. She did that quite often. And Connor never turned her away.

I had thought a new bed would make her want to be in her own room more, but it hadn't. She still crept silently to the master bedroom and chose a spot between her parents to conduct her sleeping ritual of depriving me of rest. I honestly didn't mind it most times. Especially when Connor was gone. It was nice to have a reminder of my husband when I couldn't be with him.

There were occasions when Abby's presence in our bed was very unfortunate for Connor and me. With everything else going on in Connor's life, those occasions were becoming less frequent, but they still happened. Less often than I would have liked, but that was life.

I glanced at the clock on the mantle, frowning at the late hour. I really hadn't expected it to be so close to midnight. But that explained why my eyelids were becoming heavy and I was having to reread the same paragraph over and over. Sighing, I closed the book and looked toward the doorway. I hadn't noticed Connor come out of his office. I was sure he was still in there, reading, writing, doing whatever it was he did.

I put the book down and stood up. I never went into my husband's personal room out of respect for him. What he did, he did with my support. I knew if he wanted me to know something, he would tell me. I didn't need to resort to snooping. As I usually did, I stopped at the door of the small study and tapped on the frame. Connor raised his head from the parchments scattered on the desk and looked at me. There was a confused disappointment in his gaze, as though he felt he had been neglecting me and I was angry. I smiled at him to let him know everything was fine.

"Abby's asleep," I told him.

Connor sat up, glancing toward the window. He noticed how dark it was and grimaced. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Late," I answered vaguely.

Pushing himself away from the desk a few inches, Connor leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face. I felt it was okay for me to enter the room, so I did. I stood behind where he was seated and tentatively began to rub his shoulders and neck. His muscles were tight, knotted. He had been sitting here for many hours, in the same position. I knew he was uncomfortable.

Connor sighed and relaxed, closing his eyes. I bent down and placed my lips to his cheek. His lips twitched into a small, contented grin. The sweet expression was a reminder of how little he had been home in the last five months. He'd spent Christmas aiding the Patriot army with their battles for control of the Colonies while I had spent mine reassuring our daughter that her father would be home soon. It had been our first holiday apart, and I had hated it just as much as Abby. I knew it had bothered Connor to be away during our family time, he had apologized ceaselessly on his return and promised to make it up to us. Abby's disappointment hurt him far more than mine. I understood that and didn't begrudge his attention to her. The one short week he had been home in February had been all for her sake. Then, in April, there was her birthday. I loved watching him dote on his daughter but felt a tad jealous that he'd not had time to give me the affection I was wanting.

I paused in my massage long enough to pull his hair away from his neck so that I could place my mouth to the tender spot below his ear. The spot I knew he liked for me to kiss. His head tilted, giving me better access as I nibbled gently.

"I think it is time for bed," he murmured.

I smiled in agreement.

I backed away as Connor stood up. He began to put away some of his papers. I idly helped to hand him some of the parchments, not really paying any attention to them. Connor put the letters in a drawer, organizing them meticulously. He was a very neat person. He rarely helped with cleaning and didn't really mind when the dishes weren't done, but he always made sure his belongings were tidy. I never had to straighten up after Connor. That was one of the ways he made my life easier. It meant a lot to me. I'm not sure I had ever told him that before.

I smiled as I aided him with his cleaning. I picked up a folded piece of paper and noticed that it had his name written on it in neat, feminine script. I frowned at it. It looked personal.

"What's this?" I asked.

Connor flicked his eyes to the note in my hand. "A letter," he said. "From Aveline."

I resisted the sudden urge to wad the note up and toss it in the trash. I knew who Aveline was. I had heard Achilles mention her. As well as my husband. She was a member of the Colonial Brotherhood based in New Orleans. She had come north last month, seeking someone. Connor had met her and helped her. I hadn't really thought anything about it then. I was too intrigued by the fact of a female Assassin to give into my jealous inclinations.

It never escaped my knowledge how handsome Connor was. I knew other women were attracted to him. They would have to be stupid or blind not to be. But I trusted him, completely. I knew he was mine. But this letter brought back all the insecurities I had felt then and intensified them. I wondered what Aveline looked like, if she was pretty. Or, more specifically, if she was prettier than me. I wondered if Connor thought she was pretty. I wondered what the letter said and why he hadn't told me about it. I wondered all these things and felt a deep irritation at the woman I had never met. I realized I didn't like her.

Connor took the piece of paper from my hands easily, as if he knew my dark desire to destroy it. He watched me for a moment, his expression betraying nothing of what he was thinking.

"What?" I asked shortly. My tone was harsher than I had intended. Connor's eyes flickered with amusement.

"Nothing," he said casually. Placing the letter in the drawer, he closed it and stood up, looking at me. The light humor was still present on his features. It irritated me.

"Would you like to go to bed now?" he asked.

I shrugged and left the room, trying to ignore Connor's eyes on me as we walked upstairs to our bedroom. I changed into my nightgown, too aggravated to appreciate the sight of Connor getting undressed nearby. He hesitated before putting his bed clothes on, maybe wondering if he should stay naked. I suppose seeing me dressed is what resigned him to do the same. He sighed as he got in bed beside me. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. I was no longer in the mood for intimacy. My mind was preoccupied with the contents of that letter. I wanted to know what that woman had said to my husband. What her purpose for even staying in touch with him was.

"You know your jealousy has no cause," Connor stated from next to me.

I glanced at him, my brow creasing in anger at his acknowledgment of my feelings. I didn't want him to know I was insecure. I knew my envy was silly and unjustified. His mention of it made me even more agitated. I pursed my lips to keep from pouting. I noticed him fight to hide a grin.

"It's not funny, Connor."

He looked at me, trying for all the world to act serious, but failing miserably. "You are being silly."

"You're being an ass," I told him.

Connor cocked his head at me, raising his brows. "Would you like to know what the letter says?"

"No," I lied quickly. I honestly did want to know. But I didn't want him to know that was what I wanted. I thought he would make fun of me if he knew how much it really bothered me. I had never had to compete for Connor's attention before. This was a new and dismal sensation. I loathed the thought of another woman fantasizing about him. It made me wonder if his gaze ever wavered. I know he met many people on his travels. I was certain some of them were women. Likely very attractive women. He was a man and he had eyes. I suppose I couldn't blame him for admiring the scenery. But it irritated me all the same.

Connor raised himself up on his elbow, turning toward me. I tried not to look at him. I felt incredibly idiotic and self-conscious. I hated feeling that way. It wasn't an emotion I was familiar with. I never really cared what anyone thought of me. Except Connor.

"She was only thanking me for helping her to locate the man she was seeking," he said.

I huffed as if I didn't care. "She's not good enough to find a man on her own?" I quipped.

Connor made a noise. It took me a moment to place what it was. When I realized it was a chuckle, I scowled at him.

"Stop it," I told him.

"Stop what?" he asked innocently.

"Stop enjoying the fact that I'm jealous."

Connor smiled at me. It was a goading grin of triumph. My admission only served to amuse him even more. I tried to stay angry. I fixed him with a countenance that was more pout than glare. Connor scooted closer to me and put his arm around me.

"You know," he said softly, "if I spent all my time worrying about how other men look at you, I would never accomplish anything."

I scoffed and returned his embrace. "Don't try to make me feel better," I muttered in his chest.

"It is true," Connor said. "You are very beautiful, Faith. I am not the only man who thinks so."

I looked at his face. He caressed my cheek with his thumb. It was a touch he reserved for me and me alone. I knew that and it made me feel better.

"Do you ever get jealous?" I asked.

Connor considered the question for a moment, then shook his head. "I trust you," he told me. "Besides, I enjoy the idea of other men wanting you, but not being able to have you."

I laughed, thinking he was joking to lighten the mood. He looked serious, though. I couldn't help but believe he really felt that way. It was odd, considering what an upstanding person he was. He saw the good in everyone, even his enemies. I had never thought him capable of vindictive tendencies before.

I pulled him into a deep kiss, liking the way he was returning it until I heard the door creak open. We both looked over at Abby as she entered the room and stood by the bed, staring at us. She had her cornhusk doll in her hand, gripping it by its hair.

"I'm scared," she said. "Can I sleep with you?"

I gazed into the brown eyes of our daughter. They were pleading. The only fear I was able to detect in them was the fear of being rejected. It was more from habit that she had come in while we were still awake than fear. I was sure she was only making an excuse, hoping we would give in to her request at the notion of a nightmare.

Connor met my eyes. I knew he was going to tell her yes. It was almost impossible for him to tell his little girl no. Not that he even needed to say anything. Abby was already crawling onto the bed, wedging herself between us. Connor moved back to his side of the bed, giving her room to lay down.

"This is the last time you are sleeping with us, Awe:ri," he said. I knew he was just talking, that he didn't really mean it. He had told her that before, more than once.

"Okay, Rake:ni," Abby said. She rolled onto her side, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and closed her eyes.

I smiled at my husband over our daughter's head. Connor grinned at me. I saw Abby let go of her doll and put her fingers in his hair. He sighed as she began to twirl the dark locks. Abby loved playing with her father's hair. It was a sentiment I shared. I often did the same thing when we lay in bed together.

"I love you," I whispered.

"I love you, too, Ista," Abby replied.

I giggled. My words had been directed at Connor, but I liked hearing it from her just as much.

"Konnoronhkwa akhwa:tsire," Connor said.

I closed my eyes and fell asleep with a perfectly happy smile on my face.