Ildaria bit her lip when both men groaned and cast her accusing glares, but Sam grinned with amusement and slid her arm through hers to lead her down the hall as she asked, “How are you settling in at Marguerite’s?”

“Good,” Ildaria murmured, forcing her worry aside for the moment. “Marguerite’s very nice.”

“Yes, she is, isn’t she,” Sam said with a smile that dimmed a bit as she added, “But I hope she’s taking it easy. She and Julius were so crushed when she lost the last baby. I’d hate for it to happen again.”

Ildaria halted and turned on her sharply. “Marguerite’s pregnant?”

“Yes. But maybe don’t mention it to her. She hasn’t told everyone yet. I only know because I heard Lucian talking about it to Mortimer and warning him not to involve her in anything stressful until the baby is born,” Sam said quietly and explained, “She was pregnant a year or two ago, but lost the baby and Lucian is sure it had something to do with stress so wants to be sure we keep her stress free this time.”

“Oh,” Ildaria murmured. She had been living with the woman for more than a month now and hadn’t picked up on her delicate state. Although, Ildaria had noticed that Marguerite was consuming a lot of blood, which was a necessity for an immortal female to carry a child to term.

“In fact,” Sam continued, “Lucian’s so determined to keep Marguerite relaxed and stress free you almost had to stay with us when they dragged you here from Montana . . . which I would have loved by the way,” she added sincerely. “But Marguerite had already got wind of your situation and insisted you should stay with her. She worried that your staying here would be uncomfortable. That the cells out back would feel like a constant threat to you of what could happen if you misbehaved.”

Ildaria grimaced at that comment, because here she was, in trouble again and probably going to end up in those cells Sam had just mentioned.

“It will be fine,” Sam murmured again, patting her arm. “And here we are.”

Ildaria glanced around to see that they’d reached Garrett Mortimer’s office—or Mortimer’s office, since everyone seemed to address Sam’s husband by his last name. Officially, Mortimer was the head of the Immortal Enforcers in North America, or rogue hunters, as they were often called. But Lucian Argeneau was the head of the North American Immortal Council and often stuck his nose in and usurped Mortimer’s position.

As he was apparently doing in this case, Ildaria decided when she saw that the ice-blond Lucian was seated in Mortimer’s chair behind the desk while Sam’s dark-haired husband was perched on the corner of his own desk. The two men had apparently been discussing something, probably her, but stopped at their arrival.