“We have a big lead,” Doyle mumbled. “Angel has a good idea who it is, but we’re waitin’ fer Xander’s mum ta come up wit some pictures of the kid an’ his mum. Supposedly the pictures have the kid’s name on the back of ‘em. If we can get those, we’ll at least have a name ta help us out.”

“Fantastic!” Cordelia exclaimed happily. “Then Xander can give us that big check I saw him playing with yesterday.”

“Cordelia, some things in life are about more than money,” Doyle reminded her irritably.

“I know, I know. Xander will finally have a brother. I’m happy for him. Maybe the brother has more of a clue about life than Xander does and he’ll be able to help him get smart,” Cordelia speculated. Doyle heaved another irritated sigh and she looked at him. “What?”

“I’ve just got a lot on me mind,” Doyle offered unconvincingly.

“Like what?” Cordelia demanded to know, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not backing out of the wedding, are you?”

“God no, of course not! No way would I back out o’ marrying ye. Ye couldn’t pay me enough ta not marry ye,” Doyle assured her. Cordelia smiled briefly.

“So what’s wrong?” she inquired, more gently this time.

“I have somethin’ I have ta tell ye, an’ I don’t know how I’m goin’ ta do it, since I know it’ll make ye mad,” Doyle confessed.

“Whatever it is, you better tell me quick,” Cordelia warned, her eyes narrowing again. She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t like the way this sounds. The quicker you do it, the quicker I can find out just *how* mad I’m going to be,” she added.

“Cordelia, Princess, what if I were ta tell ye that I’m not who ye think I am?” Doyle asked quietly, looking earnestly into her chocolate brown eyes.

“I’d say that unless you’re trying to tell me you’re some impoverished member of the royal family who’s actually married to some fat, ugly, horrible old nag, I don’t care who you really are. Unless, of course, it means that the wedding is off and I have to cancel the swans,” Cordelia mused.

“Cordelia, I haven’t been entirely truthful wit ye about me family,” Doyle admitted slowly. She took his hand and held it tight.

“Doyle, if you’re ashamed about your family, it’s okay. I know you have reason to be,” she said tactlessly, and Doyle rolled his eyes. “I still love you. I’m marrying you, not them.”

“It’s my parents,” Doyle tried again, and again Cordelia interrupted him.

“I’m not marrying your parents. I don’t particularly care if they have horns sprouting out of their heads.” Doyle winced, because Cordelia had hit closer to the truth than she could have imagined. “They could be serial killers, for all I know or care.”

“What if they were demons?” Doyle whispered, watching her face.

“They could be demons, too,” she agreed. Doyle waited a second, and sure enough, Cordelia’s face drained of color. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Doyle took a deep breath. “Cordelia, I’m half demon. Me father was a Brachen demon, an’ I found out that I was, too, when I was twenty-one.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cordelia shrieked angrily, bolting out of her seat. “Were you waiting for our baby to sprout something ishy before you decided to confess?”

Doyle paused at the idea of Cordelia having his child, then shook his head, trying to concentrate on the conversation at hand. “Cordy, I didna know how. Ye’ve always been se down on demon folk, I never thought ye’d accept the fact that I’m demon, too.”

“Give me some credit!” Cordelia shouted at him, her brown eyes flashing. “I never said I hated *all* demons! Just the ones I’d met!”

“Cordy, try ta understan’,” Doyle pleaded. “Everythin’ ye’ve ever said about demons was that they’re nasty, icky, horrible creatures. I didna want ye ta classify me in there wit them.”

“I will anyway,” Cordelia retorted. “You lied to me, Doyle. You held something really important from me. I would have felt the same about you whether you’d been half-demon, all demon, or no demon at all. But you didn’t even give me enough credit to tell me the truth and let me think for myself.”

“I was scared,” Doyle admitted softly. “Cordy, I’ve never cared about ennaone besides meself before. I wasn’t entirely sure how ta let ye know who and what I am witout losing ye, se I didna even want ta try. I wasn’t tryin’ ta keep me heritage from ye because I didna trust ye. It was because I didna want ta lose ye, and I wasn’t sure how ye’d react.” Cordelia softened and she sat down beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and resting her cheek on his chest.

“Doyle, I love you. You can’t lose me. You couldn’t have lost me then, either. I felt something for you, and that wouldn’t have changed. It won’t change now, even though I’m so more than ticked at you for lying to me.” Doyle breathed a sigh of relief.

“Se ye’ll fergive me?” he asked hopefully.

“Only because Mother has put so much effort into planning this wedding, and I can’t get back the deposit on the swans,” Cordelia sniffed. She smiled to take away the sting of her words.

Doyle smiled devilishly and flipped Cordelia so she was underneath him, pinned between him and the couch. “I’ll show ye swans,” he murmured, nibbling along her jawline. She sighed with pleasure and then wriggled away from him. Doyle frowned in confusion. “Why’d ye move away from me?” he asked plaintively.

“What made you decide to tell me now?” Cordelia asked, point-blank.

Doyle sighed and sat back. “I kind of thought it would be better ta tell ye now, than when ye find out the truth about Xander.”

“What does Xander have to do with this?” Cordelia demanded.

“Because,” Doyle sighed again, “Angel thinks that *I’m* the Harris kid’s brother.”