The altercation wtih Colum Gallagher disturbed Lily for the rest of the night. She had never seen him that way, especially not toward Molly. No one had heard enough of their conversation to know what had set him off. Lily had tried to get Molly to talk to her about it but she'd only said that it was a family matter. She sent Molly to one of the empty rooms upstairs for the rest of the night.

Lily watched Chris much of the night. He hadn't spoken to her since she told him to leave her room. She'd been thinking about what he'd said. He had followed them because he was trying to protect her. Her mind reeled at taht revelation. There had been an unspoken understanding between them from the beginning that whatever this was, there were no strings, no commitments.

But somewhere along the way it had become more. She remembered how he'd raced to her bedside when KC brought her back from the rockslide. She also remembered the fear she'd felt when Chris had been shot. Whatever it was that was happening, it was changing the rules between them.

She crossed the floor to offer a new bottle of scotch to the table where Chris, Vin, and Buck sat. She set the bottle down and asked if they wanted anything else. Buck took the opportunity to tell her an amusing anecdote about Ezra. Lily casually laid a hand on Chris's shoulder. To the average onlooker it would be nothing but a common gesture between acquaintances. But the men at the table, particularly Chris, knew different. She had rarely, if ever, touched him in any way in public. Chris knew the familiarity of the gesture was Lily's way of telling him that she was past the earlier argument and that he was welcome in her bed again.

It was the low rumble of hoofbeats that woke the pair from that bed hours later. Chris was out of the bed quickly peering through the curtains at the street below.

"What is it, cher?" Lily asked sleepily.

"A coach." Chris's voice was suspicious. The moon was nearly full and the sky was cloudless but it was suicidal to drive a stage at night.

"Why would the stagecoach run at night?"

"I'm guessin' that it's a private coach. Someone must have a lot of money and be in one helluva hurry to run it at night." Chris sat down on the edge of the bed and began to dress.

Less than a minute later footsteps echoed below and a voice began to yell.

"Lily . . . Lily . . ."

She gave Chris a confused look before grabbing her robe. Her hand was on the door knob before he could stop her.

"Wait, you're not going down there without me." He decided to forgo the time to put on his shirt. Whoever had yelled did not sound patient. He strode down the stairs in front of Lily, his gunbelt thrown over his shoulder. Chris sighed in exasperation when he saw the first of the two men that stood in the middle of the saloon floor.

"Terrence." He said the name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Mr. Larabee, I'm surprised to find you here." Terrence's voice held a great deal of irritation that Chris didn't understand. But he quickly forgot about that as Lily gasped loudly and stepped in front of him.

"Henri?" Chris's attention turned to the second man. He appeared to be a few years older than Lily and there was a striking resemblance that told him Henri was somehow related to her.

He also remembered the telegraph that he had swiped from Lily's room. It had been from Terrence telling her that he was returning soon. But there had been one line that had disturbed Chris.

HENRI IS LOOKING FOR YOU

And now that man stood in front of them. Chris looked at Lily. Her face had drained of much of it's color and she was obviously shaken by his arrival. The two men's eyes met. Henri looked up and down Chris appraising him. His half-dressed state left little doubt as to where he had just come from. He turned his glance to Lily.

"Qui est cet homme? Est-il votre mari?" Who is this man? Is he your husband?

Lily hesitated a moment before answering his question. "Aucun il n'est pas mon mari." No, he is not my husband.

"Putain!" With his angry word Henri took a step forward his hand suddenly striking Lily's face. Chris didn't need an interpreter to know she had been insulted. He grabbed the stranger's arm with an iron grip.

"Touch her again nad you'll pay for it." Their eyes locked again and Chris knew the man understood the reality of the threat. Lily's hand shook slightly as she reached out and touched Chris's arm.

"Chris," she said his name to pull his attention to her. Her right cheek was bright red and he worried that she'd have a bruise. "Please let him go. He's my brother."

"Your brother?" Chris released his grip on the man's arm. Lily took hold of her brother's arm and pulled him a few steps away. They kept their voices low but it didn't matter anyway because they spoke in French.

Terrence stepped into place next to Chris with a smug look on his face. "While I do not have the particular talent of understanding French, I do believe that you are a central piece of their conversation."

Suddenly Lily threw up her hands in exasperation and turned away from Henri. He picked up a small leather satchel and motioned for Terrence to follow him.

"Joseph," no one else had noticed that the young man had slipped down the stairs a few minutes earlier. "Come and help me get Mr. Devereaux settled over at the hotel."

Chris waited till they had left before approaching Lily. Her body was shaking as he put his arms around her. She let him hold her and then lead her upstairs once she stopped trembling. If they were going to talk it would be in private.

Joseph set Henri's bags down on the bed. Terrence's thin fingers grasped his throat as he turned.

"You idiot. I hired you to kill Larabee. What happened?" He released his grip enough to let the boy talk.

"I tried. I shot him."

"You shot him? Where? Because he still seems healthy to me?"

"The . . . the night of the social he was getting ready to leave. . . I had a shot but at the last second he moved or something. It was dark and I missed. I got him in the leg."

Henri Devereaux muttered something unknown in French. He turned his anger toward Terrence. "Mr. Sullivan, you assured me that this Larabee fellow would be but a memory when we arrived. This is going to cause a great deal of difficulty."

"Don't worry, this is only a minor setback. I believe that we will be able to overcome this . . . imposition."

The first glimpses of dawn were peeking through the curtains in Lily's room. Chris waited silently next to her on the bed. He guessed that it was 15 to 20 minutes before she began to speak.

"I haven't seen my brother for nearly fifteen years. And now, here he is . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"What does he want?" Chris knew that you didn't suddenly show up on someone's doorstep after half a lifetime without an agenda.

"My father is dead." Her voice was empty of feeling. "Henri has been in California for a couple of years and now that father is dead, he's returning to France. He is going back to take over the winery and take care of our mother."

"He searched you out just to tell you that?" Lily shook her head slowly.

"No, he came to take me back with him."