"Wake up, partner."
Marguerite's eyes jolted open as she was poked in the backside. Blinking away the sleep in her eyes, she rolled to her side and peered over the edge of the railing along the top bunk, scowling at Tiny for kicking the underside of her bed from where he lay on the lower bunk bed.
He merely grinned and rolled out of the lower bunk. "It's sunset. Actually it's later than sunset," Tiny admitted apologetically. "I'm afraid I fell asleep reading."
Eyebrows drawing together, Marguerite glanced around the room, but it looked no different than it had when she'd fallen asleep. The curtains on the window kept the room dark, the only light coming from the small lamp Tiny had moved beside his bunk so he could read while the rest of them slept.
Her gaze moved to the double bed where Marcus and Julius were still asleep. Christian had moved to Julius's room so that they could take over the room that he and Marcus had shared until today, but Marcus had offered to stay to be on hand in case there was trouble.
Marguerite had been surprised when Julius had suggested they disturb Marcus and Christian and switch rooms with them. She'd been waiting for him to suggest that he climb into bed with her to be close in case there was trouble. However, he hadn't. It showed he was smarter than she'd given him credit. While Marguerite was coming around a bit, and even beginning to believe there may be some truth to his story thanks to his encouraging the phone calls earlier, she hadn't swung so far that she would be willing to let him back into her bed. She needed some evidence to back up his story first.
"Are you going to lie there all night?" Tiny asked dryly. "I thought you wanted to call Martine?"
Nodding, Marguerite sat up and then maneuvered herself around to climb out of the bunk. Tiny moved over to the bed to wake up the men as she did and by the time she moved toward the door, Julius was up and following her with Tiny and Marcus on his heels. They trailed her downstairs, but Marcus broke off from the party to duck into the living room to retrieve blood for all of them while the rest of them continued into the kitchen.
Marguerite walked straight to the phone and placed the call, having to dial directory assistance first to get the number again. She had dialed the hotel number and was waiting for the phone to be answered when Marcus entered the room and offered her a bag of blood.
"Thank you," she murmured as he handed another to Julius. She watched enviously as the two men then leaned against the counter side-by-side and they both popped the bags to their teeth.
Her mouth was watering by the time a dignified male voice answered her call and announced that she'd reached the Dorchester Hotel.
Marguerite straightened at once and asked for Martine's room and then cursed under her breath and hung up when she was told that she'd already checked out.
"I'm sorry, it's my fault Marguerite," Tiny said quietly. "I fell asleep."
"It doesn't matter," she muttered, trying to sound like she meant it. "Martine will be on her way back to York. I'll just have to call her when she gets home."
Marguerite saw Marcus and Julius exchange a glance as she popped her own blood bag onto her teeth, and then Julius said. "Yes, of course you can, but it will have to be from Italy."
Marguerite couldn't speak thanks to the bag in her mouth, but she narrowed her eyes with displeasure.
"You aren't safe here," he pointed out apologetically.
"We could stay in the townhouse and not go anywhere just until we talk to Martine and then head to Italy," Tiny pointed out.
"Yes, we could, but it means Christian, Marcus, and I will have to watch her like a hawk in case she's controlled again. At least one of us will have to be with her at all times. Even in the bathroom."
"What?" Marguerite ripped the bag from her teeth fortunately, it was now empty.
"You slipped out the bedroom window," Julius pointed out.
"Yes, but--"
"Fortunately, whoever controlled you earlier apparently wasn't watching the back of the townhouse, otherwise they'd have you now. But if they saw us chase after you and bring you back, they'll figure out you must have slipped out a window and it might just have given them the idea to try to make you leave that way next time so no one stops you. There are windows in every room of this house, Marguerite, including the bathroom. You cannot be left alone. Not here. In Italy we will still have to watch you, but not quite as closely."
Marguerite stared at him blankly, unfortunately not able to argue the point. And--also unfortunately--suddenly realizing she needed to go to the bathroom. The idea of doing so with either Marcus, Julius, or Christian standing guard a few feet away was horrifying.
When her wide eyes turned to Tiny, he moved to her side and took her hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "I think we should go."
"We? You'd come with me?" she asked with relief.
"Well, it's our case isn't it, partner?" he said lightly, then more seriously. "I'd be happy to be your backup. I think you need to go, Marguerite. Not just because it would be safer, which it would. But for your own peace of mind. I know it's driving you crazy not being able to ask Lucian or Martine about the past. The trip would help pass the next several hours until you can reach one or the other of them. You can call them from Italy. And you can see the painting when we get there."
"And I can go to the bathroom there without an escort," she muttered.
"That too," he agreed with a grin.
Marguerite didn't join him in grinning. The longer they stood there talking about going to the bathroom, the more she had to go. However, she refused to go while one of the men stood guard. She could call from Italy.
"Let's go," she said abruptly, pushing herself away from the counter and heading out of the kitchen.
"Wait a minute," Julius said with a surprised laugh when she headed straight for the front door. "We have to pack and wake Christian and check the train schedule and call to Vita to have her arrange to have my pilot meet us in London."
Marguerite turned to eye him with exasperation. "Well, hurry up then. I have to go to the bathroom and if I can't until we get to Italy, I'd like to get there."
There was a moment of silence as the men glanced at each other and then Tiny cleared his throat, "Marguerite--"
"I am not going to the bathroom with one of the men standing in there watching me," she said coldly before he could suggest it. "So everyone can just get moving."
"You won't have to wait until Italy," Julius assured her, struggling to hide his amusement. "I'm sure it's safe enough on the train if one of us stands outside the door. There are no windows in the train bathroom as I recall."
She felt herself relax a little at his words. It was better than having to wait until she got to Italy, anyway. Nodding, Marguerite turned and headed upstairs. "I'll pack."
"I'll stay with her while you wake up Christian and pack," Marcus offered. "Then you can stay with her while I pack."
Sighing to herself, Marguerite ignored the conversation and started upstairs, leaving the man to follow as he liked. She heard stirring from Julius's room as she slipped into her own and quickly closed her door for fear that Christian would come out and see her. She hadn't spoken to the younger immortal since she'd learned the story Julius had told Tiny. She'd walked straight to the bunk beds and climbed into the top bunk while Julius had woken Marcus with news of the new sleeping arrangements, avoiding even looking in the young immortal's direction as she settled in the bed. It hadn't been easy since he'd been asleep in the lower bunk at the time, but she'd managed it and had been pretending to sleep when Julius had then woken Christian.
The door opened behind her and Marguerite hurried toward her suitcase as Marcus stepped inside and leaned against the wall to watch her. He didn't say anything, but neither did she. Instead she busied herself with packing as she listened to the murmur of Julius and Christian's voices next door and wondered how on earth she was supposed to act around him. She was starting to believe Julius's story. Her memories of that time were so vague in comparison to the memories of the rest of her life, that it made her wonder.
Marguerite had lain in that top bunk straining her mind, trying to recall more of their European tour than that it had been pleasant, but that was all there was in her mind. She didn't recall any individual events such as the journey itself, stopping in one city or another, or even whether she'd been saddle sore from the journey. And that was wrong.
And then there was the hope that had been on Julius's face in the kitchen while they'd waited for her to call the Dorchester and talk to Martine. Yes, Marguerite was starting to believe Julius. And if she believed him, then Christian was her son. A son she had given birth to and then handed over to a maid to kill. Dear God, the boy must hate her. And even if he didn't, she hated herself.
"Christian doesn't hate you," Marcus said quietly, and Marguerite stiffened, realizing he'd been reading her thoughts.
Annoying man, she thought with irritation and heard him chuckle softly.
"Of course I'm reading you," he said unapologetically and then added, "I love Christian like a son, and Julius like a brother. I'll do what I can to be sure they aren't hurt again in this."
Marguerite straightened slowly and peered at him. "Why am I so easily read and controlled? Other immortals aren't."
Marcus hesitated, a troubled expression crossing his face. "I don't think you're that easily read."
"You can read me," she pointed out and he nodded.
"But you're upset right now," Marcus pointed out. "You weren't as easy to read in California. You were distracted the night we met because you were worried about Jackie and Vincent, and that's when I discovered you didn't remember me or anything about meeting Julius and me in York."
"You were here at that time too?" she asked with surprise.
Marcus nodded. "I lived with the two of you that year. I'm the one who suggested we find a place in the city when the two of you realized you were lifemates."
Marguerite frowned, searching her mind for memories of him. All she succeeded in doing was making her head ache. Giving it up, she glanced at him resentfully and asked, "Can you control me?"
He shook his head firmly and her eyes narrowed. "You've tried?"
Marcus nodded, again unapologetic. He didn't explain further and her lips twisted with displeasure as she returned to packing.
"Julius said to tell you he'll come relieve you in a minute," Tiny announced entering the room. "He's done packing and is just calling about the plane."
When Marcus nodded acknowledgment, Tiny hesitated then moved to join Marguerite at her suitcase. "How are you doing?" he asked, and she could tell by his concerned expression that he wasn't referring to her packing.
"I'm not sure," Marguerite admitted quietly as she finished placing the last article in her suitcase and began to zip it up. Once that was done, she glanced at him and asked suddenly, "Do you really believe all this?"
The detective considered the matter seriously and then nodded. "Yes."
When she closed her eyes, he added, "I think you do too."
Marguerite blinked her eyes open to peer at him as he continued, "You just need time to accept it. It's a lot to take in. A past you didn't know about, a lifemate, a child, being a bigamist."
"What?" she asked with shock.
"You married Julius while you thought you were widowed," he pointed out. "That means you have, or had, two husbands."
Marguerite just gaped at him as he tilted his head thoughtfully. "Although, legally, I don't think you would have been a bigamist. I think a person is legally considered dead if they are missing more than seven years. At least they are now. The laws might have been different then." He shrugged the matter away as unimportant and then glanced at her to tease, "So are all your sons as grumpy as Christian?"
When she just stared at him with disbelief for teasing about something so distressing, Tiny raised a hand and pushed her mouth closed, his expression serious as he said, "You either laugh or you cry in this life, Marguerite. And I think you've had enough to cry about up to now, don't you? It's time to laugh."
"Damn."
Marguetite stopped gaping at the house they were pulling up to and glanced at Julius at that curse. He was eyeing a car parked in front of the house with a combination of worry and dismay.
"Well, you called him," Marcus pointed out with amusement, apparently understanding Julius's upset.
"I left a message. I didn't expect them to head over."
Julius muttered and then catching her concerned gaze he offered her a smile. "It will be all right."
Marguerite nodded slowly, but didn't say anything. She hadn't been saying much of anything since leaving the townhouse. Mostly what she'd done was stare. She stared at Julius, trying to find these memories they said were missing, imagining him in fifteenth-century dress in a fifteenth-century York. And she stared at Christian, trying to see herself in him and wondering if he really was her son. And through all her staring, both men kept giving her little reassuring smiles, as if to say it was all right. Everything was all right.
It made Marguerite feel bad. She felt bad for not remembering Julius, if there was anything to remember. She felt bad for apparently trying to kill Christian, and she didn't have a clue what to say or do or even how to interact with either of them now, so all through the train ride to London and then on the airplane to Italy, she'd just kept staring at them both.
The car pulled to a halt in front of what was apparently Julius's house and they all got out and moved around to the trunk to retrieve their luggage. They were moving toward the front door of the house when it opened and a tall, dark-haired man stepped out.
If Julius hadn't seemed pleased to know this man was here, the man looked no more pleased himself. His face was cold, his eyes filled with loathing as they fixed on her and he growled, "Julius!"
"Hello, Father," Julius said calmly, taking Marguerite's arm in his free hand and starting forward. "How--?"
Marguerite glanced at him with surprise when he suddenly snapped his mouth closed mid-greeting and stopped walking. She knew it was the appearance of the dark-haired woman who suddenly hurried out of the house that made him pause, but didn't understand why. She thought the man was much more intimidating... until the woman burst out furiously, "How could you bring that--that woman here, Julius? Here! After what she did!"
Marguerite stiffened, confusion rife in her. She wanted to be angry at such a rude welcome, on the other hand, if she'd done what they all said she'd done, well, she kind of deserved it.
"I'm sorry," Julius said to Marguerite with a sigh, and then he handed his own suitcase over to Christian and turned to head toward the couple. "Mother, Father. Come inside, we need to talk."
He took their arms and began to lead them back into the house, but paused at the door to glance back to the rest of the party. None of them had moved. Marguerite didn't really want to, and Marcus, Christian, and Tiny had only moved as far as to position themselves around her, offering silent support.
Julius nodded as if it was as it should be and said, "Marcus, could you come with me?"
"Do you want me to take your suitcase?" Tiny offered when the man nodded and started forward.
"Thank you, no. I'll just leave it inside the door," Marcus responded.
"You can leave mine inside the door as well, Christian," Julius said and then added, "Please see Marguerite and Tiny inside and get them settled and then give them a tour of the house so they know where everything is." He started to turn away again but paused to swing back and add, "Put your mother in the room next to mine."
Marguerite felt a jolt of shock roll through her at the word Mother. Not that she'd never been called that before, she had four children--other children, she corrected and frowned with confusion.
"I think he means you," Christian teased softly, apparently spotting her confused expression.
Marguerite forced a smile, but couldn't manage any more than that. Her mind was drawing a complete blank. Apparently her intelligence had run off to hang out with her missing memories wherever those were, she thought wearily.
"It's okay," Christian said quietly. "It's a lot to accept, I know."
"You seem to be handling it all well enough," she pointed out unhappily.
"Maybe," he said, slinging his overnight bag over his shoulder so he could take her arm and urge her forward. "But I've spent five hundred years sneaking into father's desk to look at your picture. Your face has always been my mother's face in my mind." He squeezed her arm gently. "I know it hasn't been the same for you. You didn't even know I existed and probably aren't even yet sure it's true."
Marguerite swallowed. He was being very kind to her considering she'd ordered him killed at birth.
"Maybe you could show her the picture now," Tiny suggested as they entered the house.
"What picture?"
The question made them pause inside the door and glance at the woman moving up the hall toward them. She was oddly attractive in an austere way, at least until she smiled in greeting, then the austerity dropped away, becoming a memory.
"Marguerite, this is my Aunt Vita. She's my father's oldest sister."
Vita Notte laughed at the introduction. "You never call a woman old, Christian. And oldest is even worse." Shaking her head, she turned to Marguerite. "Hello, Marguerite, is it?"
"Yes," she accepted the hand held out and shook it with a small smile.
"My mother," Christian growled, and Marguerite couldn't decide if it was pride, or warning, or both in his voice. She saw the surprise flicker in the woman's eyes, and braced herself for an attack as the mother had launched, but Vita merely released her hand, her smile becoming a little stiff.
"Of course, I should have realized... the name. Well... isn't this nice," she said and then seemed to be either unsure what to say next, or unwilling to say any more.
Marguerite herself was at a loss as to how to fill the silence that followed and it was Tiny who finally said, "Christian was about to show us to our rooms."
"Yes, of course." Vita immediately stepped aside for them to pass and as they began to continue forward, said, "The Rose Room is quite nice, Christian. Marguerite might like it."
"Yes, it is, but Father wants her in the room next to his," he responded and then he was leading them around a corner.
Marguerite felt her shoulders relax the moment they were out of the other woman's sight. This was looking to be an unpleasant stay indeed if she was constantly waiting for Julius and Christian's family to attack her. Not that Vita had seemed intent to do so. She hadn't seemed to know how to react to her presence. Marguerite could sympathize. She was a little lost herself.
"Here we are," Christian said after leading them upstairs and along the hall to a door almost at the end. Pausing, he opened it, and then reached inside to switch on the light before waving her in.
Marguerite walked inside, pulling her suitcase behind her. The room was large and airy and decorated in cream colors that made it bright and cheerful and soothing.
"If you want to unpack, I'll take Tiny to his room and then dump my own suitcase in my room before giving you a tour around."
"I wouldn't mind a shower before the tour," Tiny admitted. "It's been a long day."
Christian hesitated and then glanced at Marguerite in question.
"That's fine," she said.
Nodding, Christian turned back to the door. "Half an hour, then. I'll collect you both in half an hour for the tour."
"And the picture?" she asked.
Christian hesitated, and then shook his head. "I think it's probably best if my father shows you that."
Marguerite nodded in understanding.
"Come on, Tiny. I'll show you to your room so you can get that shower. I wouldn't mind one myself now."
Marguerite followed them to the door and closed it behind them, then turned and paced restlessly across the room to peer into the en suite bathroom. It seemed obvious it was shared with the next room, the master bedroom she realized and turned away to pace to the windows. Tugging the curtain aside, she looked out on the dark yard. It was large, well kept, and surrounded by a high wall with wire running along the top that Julius hoped would keep out anyone who wished to control her.
Marguerite let the curtain drop back into place and began to pace.
She wanted to see the painting. She also wanted to call Martine and Lucian. She was restless, and impatient and wanted answers.
Mouth firming determinedly, she strode to the door of her room. Julius had said she could see the painting and make the calls when she got here and that was what she was going to do. Marguerite simply couldn't wait.
The hall was empty when she slipped out of her room. At the stairs she paused and peered nervously down, not eager to run into Julius's parents or even his sister on her own. She didn't see anyone, however, so--straightening her shoulders--started silently down.
She reached the main floor, and went searching for the study, peering into each room as she passed. All of them were empty and then she heard voices coming from an open door at the end of the hall. They were growing louder with each word, telling her that someone was approaching the door.
A frisson of anxiety sliding up the back of her neck.
Marguerite opened the door she stood beside, the first she'd come across with the door closed and slid inside. She eased the door quietly closed, just catching a glimpse of Julius as he stepped out of the room at the end of the hall. She didn't think he'd seen her, though, and breathed a little sigh of relief that she hadn't been caught snooping by Julius and his parents as she released the doorknob.
Turning, Marguerite leaned against the wall to wait for the hall to be empty again, deciding that she'd head right back to her room. She didn't mind Julius knowing she was poking around looking for the painting. She really didn't think he'd be angry, but she was less than eager to have his mother or father know. Their opinion of her was bad enough alread--
Marguerite's thoughts died as she glanced around the room and realized that it must be Julius's study. She stared at the desk arranged in front of the windows across the room and let her breath out on a slow sigh, then forced herself to move away from the wall and walk to the desk.