"Marguerite?" Tiny's shout made her glance over her shoulder to see the mortal rush into the room, hard on the heels of the slightly swifter Christian, Marcus, and Julius.
"There was someone on the terrace," she explained. Marguerite had barely started to pull the door open when strong hands grabbed her by the upper arms and lifted her out of the way. It was Julius Notte she saw as he set her down out of the way.
"Stay with her," he barked.
Marguerite blinked in confusion at the order as he whirled to follow the other three men out onto the terrace. It was a shuffle of sound by the door that made her glance around to see Dante Notte and his twin Tommaso crossing the room toward her. Apparently she'd taken so long at her bath that all the men had packed and met in the living room to wait for her.
Marguerite didn't stay to ask, though, instead she hurried out onto the terrace after the others.
"There's no one here," Christian said as she joined them in the warm evening air.
Marguerite glanced around, ignoring the two mountains, Dante and Tommaso, as they caught up and stationed themselves on either side of her.
"Are you sure you didn't just see a shadow?" Julius asked quietly.
Marguerite clucked her tongue with irritation. Tiny had thought she'd imagined an attacker that morning until he'd seen the nick on her neck and blood on her collar. And now Julius was questioning what she'd seen as well. Honestly! Why was it men seemed to think all women were hysterical twits? Or was it just her?
"He knocked over that chair when I opened the curtain and startled him," she said impatiently, gesturing to the chair on its side. "I didn't imagine anything."
All five men glanced to the chair then, but it was Tiny who walked over and set it back on its legs. As he straightened from the task, he said, "This wasn't on its side when I came out here after Marguerite's attacker this morning."
The men immediately spread out, looking over the railing along the edge of the terrace as well as peering up toward the roof of the building in search of some sign of the man she'd seen or where he might have gone. Knowing they wouldn't find anything, Marguerite shook her head and moved back into her room. She was extremely annoyed that it had taken Tiny's saying that the chair hadn't been disturbed earlier for them to believe she'd seen someone. She wasn't the sort to imagine things.
Movements stiff and jerky, Marguerite collected her purse and slid it over her shoulder. She then wheeled her suitcase out into the living room, leaving it by the door to the hall with the other suitcases. It looked like everyone had packed up and brought their luggage with them when they'd come to meet in the sitting room of the suite she and Tiny shared. Obviously, she and Tiny weren't the only ones switching hotels, though she was hoping only Christian and the twins were coming and that Julius and Marcus had been convinced to go home and not interfere. Or to simply tell Christian who his mother was.
Wondering which it was, Marguerite walked to the refrigerator, opened it, and then scowled when she saw that all it held was food and alcohol. Mortal food and alcohol.
Her gaze slid to the small red cooler on the table, but she didn't bother to look inside. She'd finished off the last bag of blood in it just before they'd left for the long drive down to London. Marguerite had called Bastien before retiring the morning before they'd set out on the drive. She'd wanted to check on how her daughter, Lissianna, was doing as well as ask him to arrange for more blood to be sent to the hotel she'd be staying at. But, of course, it hadn't yet arrived. They'd arranged for it to be delivered around eight P.M. to be sure she was up and around. Marguerite had suspected she'd be so tired after the drive that she'd probably sleep late tonight. Of course, Julius had prevented that.
Glancing at her watch as she straightened, Marguerite grimaced when she saw that it was only a little after seven. The delivery would probably arrive right after they checked out, she thought gloomily. That just seemed to be the kind of day she was having.
"There you are."
Marguerite turned at those words to see Julius leading the rest of the men into the living room.
"Did you find anything?" she asked dryly, already suspecting she knew the answer. Marguerite wasn't surprised when he shook his head.
"Tiny mentioned earlier that the two of you decided to switch hotels today and I think it's a wise idea," Julius announced as he crossed the room toward her. "Marcus says Claridge's is a nice hotel, so I reserved rooms there for all of us."
"Us?" Marguerite asked, eyebrows rising.
Julius took in her expression and met her gaze as he said, "Us. I understand your concern, but I assure you I had nothing to do with either the attack on you this morning or the man skulking on the terrace just now."
Marguerite tried to slip into his mind to see if he spoke the truth. She would have tried to find out the name of Christian's mother at the same time, but she came up against a blank wall in his mind. She couldn't read the man. Marguerite wasn't terribly surprised. Her instincts had been telling her all along that he was much much older than herself.
Of course, her instincts might be wrong and her inability to read him could mean something else altogether. Were he a mortal, or an immortal but younger than she, the fact that she couldn't read him would have been a sign that he was her lifemate. But he wasn't mortal and reading immortals was a tricky business. She might not be able to read him, but it didn't mean he couldn't read and control her. And she wouldn't touch that with a ten foot pole. It looked like they would have to find Christian's mother the hard way.
Julius waited another moment, but when she didn't comment, he said, "Shall we go?"
Marguerite wanted to argue that she'd rather he stayed here while she and Tiny moved, but merely picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and moved toward the door.
"Dante will take your luggage," Julius said quietly, taking her arm to stop her when she paused at the door and reached for the handle of her suitcase.
Marguerite stilled at his touch, her stomach giving a little jump. She took a deep breath to steady herself, then nodded and turned toward the door when he urged her that way. He held it open for her and walked her up the hall, leaving the others to follow.
They walked in silence, striding at a quick clip that came to a stumbling halt when Julius tried to steer her past the elevators and she dug in her heels.
"We will take the service elevator," he announced, urging her forward.
"Why?" she asked suspiciously as they continued up the hall.
"Because someone may be watching the lobby and it does little good moving from one hotel to another if we let them follow us to it," he explained patiently.
Marguerite's mouth tightened with irritation... at herself. She should have thought of that. She was supposed to be a detective. Of course, she could say she was a concert pianist, but that wouldn't give her the skill to be one. Perhaps she should have looked into P.I. training before taking on a case. Is there a P.I. school? she wondered.
"We have a car here," Tiny announced, distracting her.
"They probably know about that too and will be watching it as well," Julius said. "Who did you rent it from? I'll arrange to have it collected by the agency when we get to Claridge's."
While Tiny answered the question, Marguerite's eyes narrowed with displeasure at the thought of losing their transportation.
Catching the look, Julius ran what appeared to her to be a frustrated hand through his hair. She thought she must have been mistaken though when he calmly pointed out, "You can call another agency and rent another car."
Marguerite nodded and forced herself to relax as they reached the service elevator. They were inside and the doors were closing when Tiny asked, "What if they have someone watching the service entrance too?"
Julius frowned at the suggestion and began to drum his fingertips against his leg. She suspected it was an unconscious action he committed when thinking, because after a moment the drumming stopped and he said, "Give the keys of your rental to Dante. He and Tommaso can take the car out for a spin to hopefully lead anyone away and give us the chance to slip out the service entrance unnoticed."
Dante turned to Tiny expectantly, but it was Marguerite who handed him the keys, retrieving them from her purse.
"She rented a Jaguar," Tiny muttered, appearing embarrassed that she had been driving during this trip. "It was manual. I don't drive stick."
"I do," Dante said with a grin as he took the keys. The grin died, however, when Julius announced, "You'll have to take the luggage with you. I want us all in one taxi and the luggage won't fit. Besides, if they happen to see you get in the car and spot the luggage, they'll assume you are moving us all to other accommodations while we could just simply be on a jaunt. Hopefully, it will make them follow you."
Dante and Tommaso groaned at the announcement, but didn't protest and simply began to relieve the others of their luggage.
"I want you to call us if you're followed once you leave the hotel," Julius added. "We'll wait here until we hear from you."
Dante nodded, and then glanced to the doors as the elevator slowed to a halt and the doors slid open. He and Tommaso disembarked first, taking the luggage with them. They were quite weighed down, and Marguerite peered after them with sympathy as they trudged off with their burden, heading for the parking garage.
"They will be fine," Julius said, urging her to move. Marguerite nodded but remained silent as he walked them to the service entrance to await the call to let them know the twins had left in the car.
The men all began to pace as they waited: Julius, Tiny, Christian, and Marcus doing a small circuit before her. Marguerite simply leaned against the wall, absently tapping one toe as she watched Julius pace. He reminded her of a caged tiger.
They all stilled and looked to Julius when his phone finally rang. He slipped it from his pocket, flipped it open, listened briefly, and then said, "Get the license plate number and drive around for about ten minutes, then park back here and catch a taxi to Claridge's. Use the service exit when you leave."
"Were they followed?" Marguerite asked curiously.
"Yes, they were."
She nodded but didn't comment as they stepped outside.
Julius paused briefly, his gaze moving around the area and Marguerite found herself watching him again. His expression was grim, his eyes alert as he looked for any threat, and she knew without any doubt that he had once been a warrior of old. She could imagine him on horseback, hand on his sword, that very same expression creasing his face. He would have been formidable, she was sure.
"Wait here, I'll hire a taxi."
Marguerite blinked as Julius urged her to the side. While she had been gawking at him, he'd led them away from the service entrance. They were on the sidewalk, a little distance from the hotel and a line of taxis waited just ahead.
Irritated by her own fascination with him, she scowled and asked, "Do we really need a taxi? Surely, the hotel can't be more than ten minutes away on foot?"
They'd passed Claridge's on their way to the Dorchester that morning and she knew the hotels weren't far apart. It seemed silly to hire a taxi for such a short walk when it was a lovely night, the evening air retaining it's warmth from the day.
"Ten minutes on foot, two by taxi," he acknowledged. "But the longer we're out here, the better the chance of being spotted and I'd prefer to avoid that." On that note he turned to walk to the first taxi in the line, Marcus on his heels.
"Father had nothing to do with the attack on you," Christian said, drawing her attention his way. "The first one I mean, when the man tried to cut off your head. Or the guy you spotted on the terrace," he added and then his lips twisted. "As for his dragging Tiny out of bed, that was just... a misunderstanding."
Marguerite raised her eyebrows at the younger immortal. It seemed important to him that she not think badly of his father and she had to wonder why he cared.
"Of course, I don't blame you for thinking that, if you did. Even I wasn't positive at first, but..." His eyebrows drew together and he shook his head. "My father doesn't do sneak attacks. He has too much honor. His first approach would have been a face-to-face meeting to try to threaten you into leaving. In fact, that was probably his original intent when he went looking for you in your room."
Marguerite nodded solemnly, accepting his words. She wasn't sure if she agreed, but she wasn't going to argue the point. "Why is he coming with us?"
"The attack upset him," Christian said with quiet assurance. "It's made him reconsider some things. I will explain everything at the new hotel, but the good news is, we can continue the investigation to find my mother without his interference. I know you'll succeed."
Marguerite wrinkled her nose. Obviously, Christian had more faith in her abilities than she did. Sighing, she admitted, "Christian, I'm not at all sure we can help you any more than your previous detectives... unless you know something more that might help us?"
He shook his head regretfully. "I've told you everything I know. I was born in England in 1491. That's it."
"That's all you think you know," Tiny said, joining the conversation. "You might be surprised at what else you know that might be useful." He let the man absorb that and then said, "We'll talk more when we get to Claridge's."
Christian nodded and then asked him curiously, "How did you end up in the detective business?"
Marguerite listened absently to the deep rumble of Tiny's voice as he responded. She already knew the answer to the question and found her attention drifting to where Julius leaned in the window of the first taxi in line, talking to the driver. Realizing that she was standing there staring at the curve of his perfect behind that his dress pants seemed to emphasize, Marguerite forced her gaze away and turned to the store window behind them, but it only displayed shoes, hardly very interesting.
Resisting the temptation to just peek back over her shoulder at Julius, she moved on to the next window instead. Marguerite's eyes brightened as they fell on a cute little outfit in the center of the next display. Leaving the quietly talking men, she moved closer to get a better look.
Marguerite had spent nearly seven hundred years of her life in nothing but dresses. For most of her life, women hadn't been allowed to wear anything but gowns and usually long ones. Of course, fashion had changed this last century. Women now wore pants all the time.
However, Marguerite hadn't yet. She tended to wear more modern dresses or skirt and blouse sets. Jean Claude had always insisted on that. Now that her husband was dead, she was considering changing that and had gone as far as trying on ladies' pants in dressing rooms, but everything she'd tried on felt restricting and uncomfortable in comparison to dresses. She was used to having her legs naked under a skirt, the evening breeze caressing them. She was not used to having them encased in a heavy material that made her feel like a sausage.
These pants, however, looked like they might be more comfortable. The legs were flared and she suspected would look very like a long black skirt when she wasn't moving. They shouldn't feel quite as restrictive as the more fitted jeans and dress pants she'd tried previous to this.
Marguerite nodded. She'd come by and try them on before she left England and--if they weren't too uncomfortable--she might even go so far as to buy them. Marguerite smiled faintly, knowing herself well enough to acknowledge that she was as slow at change as she was at getting started in the morning. Even if she bought a pair of pants, she probably wouldn't feel comfortable wearing them for a good year or so, at least not in public. Maybe she could wear them around the house at first, though, and--
"Marguerite!"
She whirled away from the window in surprise when Julius shouted her name. Marguerite saw the alarm on his face and turned to follow his gaze. Her own eyes widened as she saw the motorcycle roaring up the sidewalk, heading straight for her.
Marguerite instinctively plastered herself against the wall to get out of the way of the oncoming motorcycle. But she wasn't prepared when the passenger on the back of the bike shot his arm out, catching her purse as the motorcycle roared past.
The motorcycle immediately swerved back to the road. Julius leapt into the path of the bike, but they simply swerved, clipping him and sending him to the pavement as they shot up the street. Christian gave chase, but even an immortal couldn't outrun a motorcycle and he turned back after several car lengths to return to them.
"Are you all right?" Marguerite asked, hurrying to Julius's side as he got back to his feet.
"Yes," he muttered impatiently, brushing down the now dirty and torn pants of his expensive designer suit.
"I'm sorry, Marguerite. They got away from me," Christian said as he reached them.
"It doesn't matter. It's just a purse. I can replace everything," she said, waving the apology away and then glanced to Tiny. "I'll replace your phone too, Tiny."
"That's where it was," Tiny muttered. "I forgot you had it. I was going to call the office and check in while we were waiting for you to finish your bath and couldn't find my phone." He sighed and then shrugged. "Ah, well, at least you weren't hurt. Phones are replaceable and no one's going to panic if they don't get a call for a day or two."
Marguerite managed a guilty smile. She'd forgotten to charge her own phone the day before they'd left for London and had asked to borrow Tiny's mobile phone, intending to pay him back for the charge. But when she'd finished her call, she'd automatically dropped it in her purse.
"Do you think this was connected to the attacks?"
Marguerite glanced up as Christian asked the question and found him glancing up the street with worry.
When Julius merely shook his head to say he didn't know, Tiny commented, "I don't think so. They've had a rash of such purse snatches in London lately."
"They have?" Marguerite asked with surprise. "How do you know?"
"I watched the morning news show," he explained. "They had a big story on it. A woman was seriously injured yesterday when she was dragged behind the bike for a few feet before getting free of her purse strap. The police are supposed to be making catching these guys a priority."
"Just bad luck, then," Julius muttered, taking her arm and leading her toward the still waiting taxi. "You seem to be having a run of that."
"Or good luck," Marguerite countered. When he glanced at her in surprise, she shrugged. "Well, I woke up in time to avoid having my head cut off this morning, and I wasn't dragged by my purse strap just now. That seems more like good luck to me."
Julius smiled faintly at the words and seemed suddenly to relax as she stepped into the taxi.
Marguerite glanced around as she entered the vehicle. It was nothing like taxis in either Canada or America. Those were generally cars with a normal backseat. This vehicle had a high ceiling and seemed incredibly spacious with a wide cushioned bench seat at the back and, facing, two cushioned fold-down seats against the backing of the driver's front bench seats.
Marguerite bent at the waist, and actually walked to the backseat, settling herself in the far corner. Julius was immediately sitting beside her. She swallowed thickly as he squeezed up close to her side, then forced herself to watch Christian take the fold-down seat across from her. Marcus laid claim to the other, leaving Tiny to try to squeeze himself into what was left of the bench seat on the other side of Julius. It forced him to shift even closer to her. Marguerite took a deep breath to try to calm the sudden excitement leaping through her, and then let it quickly out as she found her nose filled with the spicy sent of his aftershave.
Not knowing what else to do, she turned her gaze out the window and tried to pretend she wasn't there. In truth, it was a good thing that the luggage wasn't there. The five of them and luggage would have been impossible, and she now understood why Julius had dumped it all on the twins.
As predicted the ride took all of two minutes, most of that due to traffic, and then they were spilling out onto the sidewalk in front of the hotel.
"Aren't you going to pay him?" Marguerite asked as Julius took her arm and urged her quickly into the lobby.
"I paid him quite handsomely just before your purse was snatched. Why do you think he waited for us?"
"Oh," Marguerite murmured, her gaze sliding over the elegantly cast lobby. Like the Dorchester, it was all rather magnificent and her gaze slid from the beautiful glass chandelier overhead, to the wide and beautiful staircase, and then to the black and white checkered marble floor at their feet.
"It's busy."
That comment from Marcus drew her attention away from the elegant surroundings and to the people lined up waiting to check in.
"There's no sense in all of us waiting," Christian pointed out. "Why don't the rest of you go on into The Foyer and relax while I check us in?"
"Someone has to wait here at the entrance for Dante and Tommaso," Julius said quietly.
"Marcus can do that," Christian volunteered. When the man nodded, his gaze then shifted to Tiny, and Marguerite got the strangest impression he was trying to think of a chore for him as well, but he was distracted when Julius held out a credit card.
"I booked the rooms on my card," Julius explained. "Make sure they give us at least three rooms with two single beds in each as I requested."
Nodding, Christian took the card and turned away.
"Shall we?" Julius asked, gesturing for Marguerite and Tiny to lead the way.
The Foyer was a restaurant on the main floor. Marguerite stopped at the entrance, her eyes wide as she peered over the glass room. The ceiling was a good eighteen feet high with a silver and glass chandelier at its center that could better be described as a piece of art. The restaurant was decorated in whites, clear glass, and muted silver, the tables all sporting a pale silver tablecloth and napkins. It was quite lovely and definitely a place where one was expected to arrive in the "proper attire."
Marguerite would be fine in the dark blue dress she'd put on after her bath, but--
"Maybe I'll just go keep Marcus company while he waits for Dante and Tommaso," Tiny muttered, glancing uncomfortably down at the T-shirt and blue jeans he wore.
"Oh, I'm sure it's all right," Marguerite began with alarm, but he was already abandoning her. She stared after him with dismay and then glanced to Julius when he took her arm.
"He'll rejoin us as soon as Dante and Tommaso get here. They shouldn't be long," he said reassuringly and urged her forward.
The ma?tre d' was there the moment they stepped through the door. He greeted them and arranged for a table that would fit all seven of them when the rest of the men joined them. In the meantime, it was just the two of them at the huge table and she wasn't surprised when Julius took the seat next to hers.
Marguerite accepted the menu the ma?tre d' handed her, relieved at the distraction. She opened it and spent the next few minutes pretending to read the offerings to avoid her table mate, but finally had to set it down or make it obvious that she was trying to avoid talking to the man.
The moment she set it on the table, the ma?tre d' was at her side.
"Just tea, please," she murmured, managing a smile.
Julius ordered coffee, then asked for a plate of sandwiches, and she couldn't hide her surprise.
"You eat?"
"It's a recent habit I've picked up again," he said calmly, and then asked, "You?"
Marguerite shook her head at once and assured herself she wasn't lying. The sausage she'd pinched that morning was an aberration, she was sure. An uncomfortable moment of silence passed. She tried to think of something to talk about to fill it, but the only thing that came to mind was the case she was working on. That made her pause and raise her eyes back to him again. Julius was peering around the restaurant, so Marguerite wasted another few moments trying to read his mind, but again came up against a blank wall.
Sighing unhappily, she turned her own attention to the restaurant decor as well.
"Jean Claude Argeneau was your husband and lifemate."
Marguerite turned back, eyeing him uncertainly. It hadn't exactly been phrased as a question, but she treated it as such and answered, "No."
"No?" Julius frowned. "'No' what? You are Jean Claude Argeneau's widow."
"Yes, I am," she admitted. "But we were not lifemates. Just husband and wife."
Julius sat back in his seat, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he said cautiously, "I have never heard of two immortals who were not lifemates marrying and living together... happily."
"Neither have I," she assured him.
"It was an unhappy union, then?" he asked quietly.
Marguerite glanced away, her dissatisfied gaze sliding over the other patrons. She normally disliked talking about Jean Claude, her marriage, or anything having to do with the last seven hundred years of her life if it wasn't her children, but she found words she'd never said bubbling to her lips and trying to slip out. Keeping them in was actually causing a painful knot at the base of her throat. Finally, she blurted, "It was seven hundred years of hell."
Marguerite hesitated a moment and then finally glanced back to see how he was taking this revelation. His expression was unreadable. Mouth twisting wryly, she said, "You do not look surprised."
Julius shrugged. "As I said, I have never heard of two non-lifemates living together happily."
Marguerite nodded and glanced away from him again and then had a thought and glanced back. "Were you and Christian's mother lifemates?"
"Yes," he said solemnly.
"Oh." For some reason she found that news depressing, but forced her own feelings aside and said, "I realize it's very painful to lose a lifemate, and that it's probably difficult for you to talk about her, but Christian does have the right to know--"
"You've had a lifemate, then?"
Marguerite blinked at the interruption, thrown off her stride. Frowning, she admitted, "Well, no, but--"
"Never in seven hundred years?" he pressed.
Mouth tightening, she glanced away, muttering, "I fear, my life while married was rather... restricted."
A moment of silence passed and then he said, "You were born in England."
She glanced back with surprise. "Yes. I was born to a maid in a castle that was not far from London actually."
"Was?" he asked with interest.
Marguerite shrugged. "It's gone now. Just rubble I should imagine."
"And is that where Jean Claude met you?"
She scowled. "I would really rather not talk about my life with Jean Claude. In fact, I do not wish to talk about myself at all. I am here in England to find your son's mother. You could help with that."
"I'm afraid I can't, actually. I suggest we agree not to talk about either subject. I will refrain from bringing up your husband, if you resist asking me about Christian's mother."
Marguerite was saved from having to respond by the arrival of a waiter. She found her gaze sliding over the plate of food with unaccustomed interest as he set it on the table. The small sandwiches looked and smelled delicious... and she didn't even eat. Though, she probably should, Marguerite thought suddenly. It would help her to build up her own blood until she was able to contact Bastien and ask him to forward the cooler of supplies on to her at Claridge's.
"Would you like one?" Julius asked, lifting the plate and holding it out to her as the waiter set his coffee on the table.
Marguerite raised a hand, about to reach for one of the sandwiches, but froze when she noticed the way he was watching her. Something about the expectant gleam in his eyes made her lower her hand and sit back in her seat.
"I do not eat," she repeated her earlier words. The sausage really didn't count. Normally, she didn't eat. In fact, she couldn't recall the last time she had before the stolen sausage that morning. But then she couldn't remember the last time she'd been without blood for this long either and suspected her hunger was getting confused.
Marguerite watched silently as he picked up one of the sandwiches and took a bite. Her mouth immediately began to water, and she thought perhaps she'd call down to room service when she got to her room and order something small... a sandwich maybe, to tide her over until the blood arrived.
"They're really quite good," Julius said. "You should try one."
"I--No, I really do not eat," Marguerite said stubbornly.
"We have lovely teacakes, if you'd rather something sweet," the waiter said as he set a small teapot and cup before her.
"No, thank you," Marguerite murmured.
Nodding, the waiter turned to leave, but paused as he found himself facing a newly arrived Dante and Tommaso. Marguerite had to bite her lip as the waiter's eyes widened on the pair. Truly, the twins were an awesome sight. Side by side they were a wall of black leather and threat, without even trying.
"Er..." the waiter said, his eyes shifting frantically from the pair to the table.
"They are with us," Marguerite assured him, taking pity on the man.
Nodding, he moved swiftly to the side to make way for them, and then nervously backed away.
Marguerite shook her head as she watched him go, and then turned an affectionate smile on the twins. She'd got to know them well in California when they were all staying at her nephew's home and had been glad to see them when they'd met with Christian at the Dorchester and found they'd accompanied him. The pair looked frightful, but really they were sweethearts. They were still quite young, barely over a hundred years old, and still ate... a lot. The only person she knew who came close to being able to put away as much as these two were Tiny and her own son Lucern.
"Where are the others?" Julius asked.
"There's a pub on the other side and they're waiting for us there," Tommaso answered, eyeing Julius's sandwiches.
"Tiny warned us that The Foyer was fancy dress," Dante added as Julius noted the hungry looks both men were giving his food and lifted the plate to offer it to them. Both twins took a small sandwich each as Dante added, "We just came to report in."
Julius nodded. As he set the plate back on the table, he asked, "You managed to lose your tail?"
Tommaso nodded as Dante stuck his sandwich in his mouth to free his hands. He pulled a small notepad from his pocket and tore off a page. He then held it out and took the sandwich out of his mouth with his other hand, saying, "This is their license plate number. I think it was a rental, but you might be able to find out who rented it."
Nodding, Julius accepted the slip of paper and slid it into his suit pocket, making Marguerite frown. She and Tiny were the private detectives. Holding out her hand, she said, "I'll look into that if you give it to me."
Julius shook his head. "I have it. You already have a job."
Marguerite narrowed her eyes. He didn't sound the least angry as he mentioned the case to find his son's mother. Considering how long he'd kept the secret and the fact that he'd come here to try to convince them to head home, he was being rather pleasant. It just made her suspicious.
"These are good," Tommaso commented.
Marguerite glanced his way in time to see him pop the last of his sandwich into his mouth. Her gaze then moved back to the plate, noting that there was only one left. She forced herself to look away from the temptation.
"Christian said to give you two these," Dante said and handed a card key to Marguerite and another to Julius, listing off the room numbers as he did.
"We already delivered the luggage to the rooms," Tommaso added, accepting the last sandwich when Julius held out the plate.
Marguerite watched enviously as he consumed half of it in one bite, and then couldn't stand it any longer and stood up.
"I would like to go to my room."
"Of course," Julius said, getting smoothly to his feet. "I shall see you up."
"No, no," Marguerite waved him off, eager to get to her room now. "I know the room number. I can find it. You go ahead and join the boys in the pub. I'm sure Dante and Tommaso have more to report."
She turned, then, to walk away, but paused when he said, "We're sharing a suite."
Turning back, she raised an eyebrow.
"I arranged for two suites next to each other," he explained. "I thought the boys could take the two bedrooms of one suite, and Marcus and I will share one bedroom in the second suite, while you take the other."
Julius looked as if he expected her to be upset by this news, but she wasn't. The fact was she had her own room, and she was the only one with her own room. And she really wanted to get up there and order something to eat.
"Fine," she said quickly and glanced to Tommaso and Dante. "I'd like an hour to unpack and rest a bit, but could you ask Tiny and Christian to meet me after that so we can discuss matters?"
She waited for both men to nod, and then left the table to find her room.