Elizabeth looked at him without understanding. “The children will be home soon.”
The children. Zachary.
The reminder formed an icy ball in his gut. He disengaged slowly from Elizabeth‟s body, reluctant to part with her warmth,
already anticipating in his heart and in his flesh the larger separation to come. “I must speak with him. Zachary.”
Elizabeth‟s clouded eyes cleared. He watched the subtle shift from lover to mother as she marshaled her authority and
defenses. “Not tonight. He‟s been through enough for one day.”
So had she. But she did not make excuses for herself, he noticed. He admired her determination to protect their son. But he
would not let admiration deter him from what must be said. What must be done.
“Zachary is old enough to make his own decisions.”
She shook her head. “He doesn‟t know enough to decide anything. He needs time to adjust. To accept. We all need time.”
The bitter echo of Conn‟s words played in his head. “You need time to recover . . . Take as long as you need . ”
“Time will not change what he is,” Morgan said. “Or what I am.”
A frown formed between Elizabeth‟s brows. “This isn‟t only about you. Or even about Zack. I have to consider Em.”
He stared at her, perplexed, uneasy. “Emily already accepts me.”
“Exactly. She‟s becoming attached.”
Attached. Like a barb in his skin, a tiny hook in his heart.
The admission did not hurt as much as he thought it would.
“I am . . . attached to her, too,” he said carefully.
Elizabeth did not appear impressed. “I‟ve been very careful about limiting the children‟s contact with the men I‟ve dated. I
don‟t want Em to think that because we‟re involved, you‟re a father candidate.”
The thought of Elizabeth with other men made him grit his teeth. Her rational tone drove him wild. She was still lying
naked under him. How could she dismiss him so easily? “I was not aware you had come to this island to find a father for
Emily.”
Her eyes sparked. “I didn‟t. Any more than you came looking for a son. But here we are.”
“In your bed,” he reminded her.
“Yes.” She sighed, releasing her anger with her breath, and touched his taut jaw. “I can accept you won‟t be around
forever. I won‟t ask Emily to accept it. I think it would be better if you don‟t see her for a little while. You need to give us
some space.”
Her barriers were up again, he realized. And he was on the outside. Despite her gentle hands, her rueful tone, her complete
and satisfying surrender to him moments ago, she would not compromise where her children were concerned.
Frustrated, he rolled from her to sit on the edge of her mattress. “And Zachary?”
“I won‟t stop him from seeing you. But if you care for him—if you care for me at all—you‟ll back off. Give us time.”
Instinct and pride, primal, possessive, rose to refute her. Back off now? Leave her when she was vulnerable? When she was
his? She would only use the opportunity to withdraw even further behind her formidable defenses.
And yet . . . She had no reason—he had no right—to expect otherwise. “I can accept you won’t be around forever . . . ”
He nodded stiffly, still with his back to her. “Very well. I will come back tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday. Zack‟s at the store all day.”
“Sunday, then.”
“We need one day together as a family.”
A family he was not part of.
He cast a sardonic look over his shoulder. “Will one day make such a difference after fifteen years?”
Her smile trembled. “If it‟s the last day.”
Ah, God.
He wanted to reassure her that he would not rip Zachary unwilling from this life and her arms. But he could say nothing
until he had spoken to the boy. Zachary was finfolk. The choice must be his.
“How much time do you need?” he asked.
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