He managed a twisted smile. “I’d be flattered except I know you’re not overreacting because of me. Not just because of me,” he corrected before she could say anything. “And it wasn’t Allie who said that.” His grip on her arm tightened slightly. “My mother used to say it when I wanted to chase after my uncles.”

“Nice.”

“Not really. Dragon. Then she’d remind me that family is the arena where even the simplest conflicts draw blood.”

Literally draw blood. And if his Gale half wasn’t as consistently violent, that didn’t mean Allie had the right to take an emotional swing at him, pregnancy hormones or not. “But Allie said something similar.”

“If I say that she did, what are you going to do?”

He was still holding her in place. He was stronger, a lot stronger, but if she told him to release her, he’d have to. And she really had to do something about how stupidly overprotective he made her feel. “Not leap to your defense like a crazy woman?”

The fires in the mirror became a pillar of flame and that, in turn, became Jack’s reflection—although Charlie noted that a certain amount of flame continued to flicker around his edges. “Good call,” he said and let her go.

The memory of his touch a warm band around her arm, Charlie moved far enough across the hall to point out the window. The cloud cover made it look like dusk in the courtyard. A gust of wind slapped rain against the glass. “If it helps, she feels like shit.”

Jack shook his head. “It’s October.”

“Some of it’s Allie. Her touch is . . .”

“Damp.”

He was grinning when she glanced over at him. Impossible not to grin back. “I was going to say unmistakable.”

“Right. Oh, and cool distraction with the issues thing.”

When they weren’t gold, his eyes really were absurdly warm. “Issues thing?”

“That you used to distract her. So she wouldn’t ask why you were off to see Auntie Catherine. Although . . .” Golden brows drew down. “. . . if you’d time-slipped back, you could’ve been and gone without saying anything.”

“Allie knows when the way to the Wood is opened. It’s why Auntie Catherine can’t sneak back into Calgary.” Not through the shrubbery. Not through the mirrors. Not without Allie knowing. “And even if I could deflect her questions, which—let’s face it—I could, I don’t want to time slip if I don’t have to.”

“Why not?”