After an embarrassingly long time, I pulled myself together, accepted a hug from Tina, ran my fingers through my (dirty) hair, and sighed. "Okay. That was cathartic."

"My! Your face is even dirtier now."

"You don't have to sound so happy about it"

"No, I suppose not" She wasn't laughing at me ... barely. "Would you like a smoothie?"

"I would love a smoothie, and then we have to talk. I mean, I have to find Sinclair first and apologize, but then we have to talk. When I left the house? Jessica wasn't pregnant, and Nick hated me."

"Really?" Tina's eyes were wide and curious. "That's . . . difficult to imagine. My. You do have stories to tell, don't you?"

Ah ... some stories, yeah. But not all.

"I'll go get some started . . . Nick left what appears to be three dozen grocery bags in the kitchen. With your permission, Majesty." She wandered off, muttering to herself "How we'll eat them all without His Majesty finding out or some of the berries going bad I do not know . . ."

Okay. Time to get my ass upstairs, take a shower, change my-my-

My letter!

I sank to my knees, clawing open the bag and rummaging through clean panties to find the letter Sinclair had left for me. Since I knew I'd fucked up and wanted to apologize, now would be the time to read it. And since he and Tina seemed to know exactly where I'd gone, and what I'd been up to . . .

I ripped it open with trembling fingers and read it right there on the parlor floor.

My own, my dearest Queen,

You have been gone less than four hours and I can scarcely bear it. I disliked avoiding you and letting you journey through time not knowing you had my support and admiration and, always always, my love. I did not like it, though I know it was necessary to both my past as the son of murdered farmers and brother to a murdered twin, and my future as a reigning monarch.

More: it was necessary to bring you into my life. There is nothing I would not endure a thousand thousand times to be certain that would come about.

My sister would have loved you, as I love you. I will regret to the end of my days that you and she could never meet . . . again. How well we remembered your visit when we were children! How you enchanted my beloved twin and cast your spell on me!

How grateful I am that you made me strong.

Elizabeth, your charm and your power come from the simple fact that you have no idea how powerful you have always been. This is the sort of thing that makes me love you while fighting the urge to strangle you.

He was right! I knew what that expression looked like. I'd seen it a zillion times in the last few years. Sort of like constipation paired with a sugar rush.

By now many of your questions about my past have likely been answered.

Yeah, you could say that.

But if any questions remain, I will answer them. If you require any information on any topic with which I am familiar, I shall provide you with all you need in the best way I can.

The time to keep secrets from you is over, Your footprints can be found throughout our lives; you have always been in our lives, and at last you can know it, to our gratitude and joy. Knowing this, we have counted the minutes until your return to your proper place in time.

Should this be at all unclear, I shall say it straight out: your place is at my side, and will always be, whether it is sixty years ago or five thousand years from now.

In this, as in all things, I am your devoted husband, servant, and monarch.

My own, how I miss you.

Sink Lair.

My hand spasmed and the note crumpled in my fist. I gasped and tried to smooth it out, which would have been tricky even if I hadn't been crying. The nickname he hated! He'd signed it with the nickname he hated!

More: he let me go to hell, even though he knew I was going to be hip deep in all kinds of crap. For a macho control-freak, old-fashioned chauvinist like my husband, for him to stand back and let all that happen, let me face all sorts of danger and bad smells . . . well.

"Ah, I not only heard your dulcet voice but followed the smell of grime." I looked up. Sinclair was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. "Your face is smudged, my own. And I must apologize for picking such an ugly, pointless argument to make you think-"

"Shut up!"

He blinked. "As you wish."

"And fuck me!"

He blinked again. Had he developed a nervous twitch while I was gone? "As you wish."

And just like that, I was in his arms. Just like that, we went staggering all over the parlor, kissing hungrily, biting, licking, yanking at our clothes, tripping over the end table (twice) and the couch (once), until we finally realized we should just stay on the floor.

My shredded leggings were more shredded, and Sinclair was trying to rip his tie off without strangling himself more than I accidentally had. I'm not sure why he was bothering, since his white dress shirt was in several pieces on the carpet . . . force of habit, maybe?

"My own, my dear, my Elizabeth, my Elizabeth, how I missed you."

"Less talk," I panted, levering my hips off the floor to meet his. "More dick."

He laughed into my mouth. "As you-ah. That's . . . really quite lovely."

"Gawd, it sounds like a herd of pissed-off jaguars in here. What the-aw, dammit!"

Marc was in the doorway, arms akimbo. "Oh, come on! You know how long it's been since I got laid? I've been lugging BabyJon to every Gymboree in town just to meet someone who'll be my favorite bad choice!"

"Out!" Sinclair roared, not even looking.

"It's not fair!" he whined, retreating with both hands over his eyes. "Bad enough you two are ridiculously hot so we all assume you're having awesome monkey sex, but that's why you have a bedroom! So the rest of us don't have to walk in on scenes like this! Stop it, that table's almost three hundred years old! Oh, now you're just flaunting your vampire superpowers and sex life." His voice was getting fainter. "The rest of us get to live here, you know. I mean have to. Have to live here. Aw, dammit . . ."