Skull and Dagger

Annabelle smiled softly as the last rays of the sun tinged the sky a brilliant orange. She breathed in the salty night air and leaned forward on the balcony of their cozy little villa, savoring this moment of peace for as long as it would last...

Which was inevitably all of five seconds.

A crash sounded from Donna's room, followed by her high-pitched scream of “Get out! Get out! Get out!” and only seconds later Little Gerard ran streaming by, a look of satisfied guilt on his face. Annabelle caught her son by the arm before he could flee.

“What exactly is going on, young man?” she demanded as sternly as she could manage. She always had a hard time remaining cross with this one, though. He had the same beautiful hazel eyes as his father, and all she had to do was look into them and her heart would melt.

Unfortunately, Gerard was also every bit the mischievous imp his father was and used those eyes of his to his advantage as often as possible. “Sorry, Mum,” he insisted with suspicious innocence, “it was just an accident...”

Accident!” his older sister screeched, stalking out of her room. “He up-ended my entire bag on the floor, Mum!”

“She threw her shoe at me!” Gerard countered, pointing accusingly. “Nearly hit me right in the head!”

“Me?!” Donna repeated in disbelief. “I’m not the one who keeps sneaking out his bedroom window to terrorize-”

“Donni?” a soft, meek little voice broke up the shouting match. Annabelle smiled as her youngest and calmest child, Lizzie, managed to break up the war with nothing more than a whisper. “I wepacked your bag...”

Miraculously, that ended the confrontation, and Donna and Gerard scampered back to their separate rooms.

A soft chuckle greeted Annabelle’s ears, and she turned to see her devilishly handsome husband standing behind her, watching the younger generation with obvious amusement in his eyes. Unconsciously, she wet her lips, already imagining how she would free his magnificent body from the clothes that so cruelly concealed it the instant they went to bed tonight...

“Caught you fantasizin’ again,” didn’t I?” he teased, slipping his arms around her waist from behind.

His hands came to rest on her once-more-flat belly, and he stroked it sensuously, obviously imagining it full and round with his fourth child. Fortunately, Annabelle had borrowed several of Elizabeth’s techniques and had thus prevented herself from becoming a perpetual breeding factory of little Franks. Not that she had anything against little Franks, mind you. In fact, she absolutely adored the little monsters, as she referred to them affectionately. But she already had three loveable demon-spawn to deal with - all born within four years - and she didn’t really think she could handle any more at the moment...

“I need something to get me through the chaos,” she agreed, snapping out of her reverie long enough to answer Frank’s question.

“They always get like this right before they go off to school,” he reminded her. “But, just think, after tomorrow it’ll just be the two of us, love. All alone, big soft bed...”

“Nice, sturdy walls,” she agreed with a wistful smile.

“Quality Frankie time straight through Christmas,” he murmured into her ear.

“Mmm...Frankie...” she had drifted off happily into a wonderful little fantasy world - one where her children weren’t threatening to appear at any moment so she could safely tackle her husband to the ground and have her wicked way with him.

“Although we could always take up Gerard’s offer for a visit...” he suggested. “You know how he always gets lonely when Elizabeth’s pregnant and shore-bound. It’ll be even worse this time what with Sites off with Jennifer...”

“You’re just trying to convince me to let you return to your thieving ways,” she accused.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed. “You can’t tell me you don’t love the...excitement. It’ll be like a second honeymoon...”

“Fourth,” she corrected with a smile, “and...tempting. I’ll consider it.”

“Don’t suppose you can be swayed?” One of his hands slipped down her thigh...

She gasped in response. “You’re welcome to...try...” she murmured breathlessly.

“It’ll be better thann visiting your dad at the least,” Frank pointed out.

Annabelle winced at that. There had been something of a reconciliation several years back so that Henry could check out his ‘newest assets’. The family gathering had begun with Henry commenting to Frank how impressed he was that Frank had finally succeeded in taming Annabelle, and Frank promptly bursting out into hysterical laughter that was only stopped after several pointed jabs in the ribs. It was obviously not the response Henry had expected, and things naturally went downhill from there.

The only good thing that had come it was that they had finally learned that Lord Williams had passed away the previous year, his fortunes never recovered and knowing full-well that his only son had picked up a nasty disease of the sort that guaranteed he wouldn’t be able to produce any viable offspring in the few years before he withered away.

Ah, happy times...

“Y’know, love,” Frank said, continuing to rub her stomach, “we could put ourselves to good use, create another little Frank - one the age of Elizabeth’s Margaret. Be a nice little playmate...”

“You just want me pregnant again so that you can fuss unnecessarily and try to order me around,” she accused.

“Maybe,” he conceded, hazel eyes shinning. “So whattaya say?”

“Maybe,” she agreed with a coy smile, leaning in to kiss him...

“Mum!” Gerard’s cry broke the moment.

“Or maybe not,” Frank agreed with a chuckle.

“Dad!” Gerard stalked into the hallway. “Someone stole my-”

He was cut off when Lizzie tapped him on the shoulder and handed him the cricket bat he’d left in the living room. “Hewe.”

“Never mind,” Gerard shrugged, heading back to his room.

Frank and Annabelle watched their youngest with awe.

“You’re positive you’re her real mother?” Frank whispered in Annabelle’s ear.

“I resent that!” she mock-huffed. “I can be a sweet little angel, too!”

He gave her a skeptical look. “When?” he demanded. “’Cause in all the ten years we’ve been together-”

“Oh, hush!” she scolded him, batting his head playfully. “Besides,” she couldn’t help but tease, “did it never occur you that maybe you’re not her real father?”

He growled at that and pressed her against the wall, kissing her breathless. “I keep you too well satisfied to go lookin’ around elsewhere,” he argued persuasively, his hand cleverly demonstrating his point.

“That you do,” she agreed with a happy smile. “That you do...”