ulius laid his suitcase on the bed, and began to unpack with a sense of relief. He was glad to be home, he was glad to have Marguerite here with him, and he was glad that he'd managed to convince his parents to leave and not interfere. It was a good day.

Smiling at his own thoughts, Julius began tossing dirty clothes into a hamper in his dressing room, and setting what still clean clothes were left on the shelves. He'd promised to keep his parents informed as to what was happening and what he learned. The problem was he didn't really know where to go from here. His main concern was to keep Marguerite safe. Beyond that he wasn't sure what to do. He needed to find out who was behind the attacks in London and York. His instincts told him it was that damned Jean Claude. The man had stolen his happiness more than five hundred years ago, and Julius was sure he was trying to steal it again. But his father had warned him not to focus on Jean Claude and ignore the possibility of another being behind the attack. So he had to try to find out who it was.

If the incident where Marguerite had been controlled was connected to the other two attacks, then the person behind these assaults had to be one of the three people who performed the three-on-one on her. His father thought the most likely suspects were Martine and Lucian. That was a problem. Marguerite was supposed to call one or both of them for back-up proof of his claims, but if they were involved, they weren't likely to back him up. They'd hide it. He supposed that would be proof that they were involved, but it was also likely to make Marguerite decide he was lying and leave.

Julius wasn't sure of the motive for the attacks either. Jean Claude hadn't tried to kill her back then, but had taken her back like a toy he'd abandoned and then regained interest only when he saw someone else playing happily with it. What reason would the man have to want her dead? As far as Julius could tell, the other two involved wouldn't have any motive at all... unless it had something to do with the past and the fact that she was snooping into it now. Did someone want the past to stay buried? Or did they want to keep him and Marguerite apart? Or perhaps both?

These were all things Julius had to sort out and he hadn't a clue how to go about it. He wasn't even sure how to find out for certain whether Jean Claude was dead or not. The only thing he could think was to have someone dig up his grave, although that wouldn't prove anything if he was a pile of ashes.

Julius sighed with frustration and returned to his suitcase for another stack of clothes, his concerns turning to the more immediate problem of keeping Marguerite from calling Martine and Lucian.

The click of his door opening made him pause and glance about, his eyebrows flying up when he saw Marguerite standing in the door of the bathroom between his room and the one she occupied. They then lowered with concern when he saw her stark expression.

"Marguerite? Are you all right?" he asked, laying the clothes back in the suitcase and starting toward her with concern.

"I was in your study," she announced. "I saw the painting."

He waited, uncertain what was coming next.

"Did I tell you where I got this?"

Julius shifted his gaze to the chain she dangled from her fingers. The St. Christopher's medal. His muscles slowly relaxed.

"Did I?" Marguerite asked, starting slowly forward.

"Your son," he said, "It meant a great deal to you because of that. You said you never took it off, but when I left with Marcus to take Mila to court, it was our first time apart. You took it off and asked me to wear it to ensure I returned safely to you."

Julius saw a tear slip out from under her lashes and frowned. Moving forward, he placed a finger beneath her chin and urged her face up. When she opened her eyes, he told her, "I took it off when I brought Christian back to Italy, and I threw it out the window in a fury."

Her eyes widened slightly at the claim and he admitted, "Which was foolish, because it took me two nights of crawling around in the grass with a candle to find it again." Her lips began to spread in a smile and he shrugged. "I couldn't throw it away. I felt like it was throwing us away and I guess I hoped it would bring us safely back together again someday as you promised."

"And it has," Marguerite whispered and leaned up to kiss him.

She believed him, Julius realized with relief. The necklace and portrait had been proof enough for her and Marguerite trusted him. He let his breath out on a silent prayer of thanks to God and slid his arms around this precious woman. He had gamboled through life until he'd met her the first time, enjoying all it had to offer, but never really fully experiencing any of it until meeting her. With Marguerite the nights had sparkled, and life had seemed filled with endless possibilities. And when he'd lost her, all that light and sparkle and possibility had seeped away, leaving life a sepia silent film. But he had her back now, and he'd never let her go, Julius thought... and then they both stilled as a knock sounded at the door.

"Ignore it," he murmured, drawing her toward the bed and pushing the suitcase off.

"Marguerite? It's the phone for you," Tiny said through the door.

"I didn't hear the phone," Marguerite said with surprise.

"I don't keep one in my room. Too many telemarketing calls during the day disturbing my sleep," Julius explained.

"It's Martine," Tiny added.

Julius felt the blood in his veins freeze. Marguerite believed him now, but if she talked to Martine and the other woman said it was all nonsense as he feared she would...

"Oh!" Marguerite pulled away with an apologetic smile. "I'd better get that. I called and left a message for her to call back."

She'd slipped out of his arms before he could stop her. By the time his brain started to work again and he reached for her, she was out of reach.

Julius stared after her with growing horror, sure that his world was about to collapse again. By the time he was able to shake himself out of the stupor that had claimed him she was slipping through the door.

"Wait, Marguerite." He hurried forward, but she was hurrying now too and when he burst out into the hall he was just in time to see her disappearing down the stairs. Tiny, moving at a much slower pace was only halfway up the hall.

"Is something wrong?" the detective asked with concern when Julius cursed. "I thought talking to Martine was a good thing?"

"Not if she was one of the three," Julius said grimly as he hurried up the hall. "She might tell her it was all nonsense."

"Martine?" Tiny asked, running to keep up with him. "You think she--?"

"The other two had to be old, strong, and people Jean Claude trusted," he explained.

"So your father verified that three-on-ones on immortals are possible?" Tiny asked jogging down the stairs next to him.

Julius nodded, then burst ahead, breaking into a dead run as he reached the main floor. He skidded to a halt at the door to his study just in time to see Marguerite pick up the phone.

"Hi, Martine," she sang happily into the phone, offering him a smile when she turned to lean against the desk and spotted him in the door.

Julius sagged against the doorframe, his eyes fixed on her expression. He sensed when Tiny arrived and joined him in the door, worried and out of breath, but ignored him as he waited for the betrayal to appear on Marguerite's face.

"Yes, I did," Marguerite said. "Actually, I called Friday night as well, but you had left for London to spend time with the girls. Did you have a good time?"

Julius felt his teeth grind together at her chatty tone. Dear God, the fates were going to drag this out.

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Marguerite laughed. "Yes, I quite liked the Dorchester too. Did the girls have a good time?"

"Jesus," Tiny breathed next to him, apparently as impatient as he.

"Really?" Marguerite laughed again. "I shall have to try that the next time... Yes--What? Oh, well it's not really important anymore, and I was calling to ask a question that might seem silly."

Julius held his breath.

"Yes, well... I was wondering... I didn't happen to stay at your home back in the fifteenth century? Say around 1490 to 1491?" Marguerite paused, listening, and then said, "Martine?"

Julius felt his hands clench.

"Yes, I know it is and I'll explain when next we meet, but the answer is important to me and--" She paused and listened, her expression going solemn. He couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not and wished he could hear the woman's answer.

"Really?" she asked quietly and then shook her head slightly and said, "No."

Marguerite listened again and Julius was beginning to experience pain in his chest. He wasn't sure of the cause until he realized that he was still holding his breath. He let it out slowly and started across the room.

"I--I'll come see you soon and explain, I can't... No, everything is..." Marguerite paused, her eyes widening on Julius. He supposed his expression was probably expressive of his feelings at that point and he wasn't feeling very happy. It sounded to him from this end as if Martine had lied and told her no.

"I have to go, Martine," Marguerite said quickly and hung up. She then reached for his arm with concern. "Are you all right?"

"What did she say?" Tiny asked abruptly from the door before Julius could answer.

"Oh." Marguerite glanced at the mortal and smiled. "Yes, I did stay in her home in York."

Julius blinked in surprise. He'd been positive she was echoing Martine's no when she'd said the word.

"Martine said I sent her a message about being with child and planning to marry 'some Italian' as she put it," Marguerite said wryly. "But then shortly afterward she got a letter from Jean Claude telling her that he wasn't dead as everyone had presumed, that I'd lost the child, and you had left me and he and I were sorting things out. He told her it was a delicate subject and never to bring it up to me as it upset me greatly."

"The bastard," Tiny muttered. Julius simply sank to sit on the edge of the desk, his legs suddenly weak from the scare he'd had. Martine hadn't lied to her. She'd backed up his story.

"I guess the good news is that this means that Martine wasn't one of the three," Tiny commented thoughtfully.

"Martine?" Marguerite asked with surprise. "No. She never would have been involved in something like that. We are friends."

When Tiny glanced his way with raised eyebrows, Julius turned to Marguerite. "My father suggested that the other two who had performed the three-on-one with Jean Claude would have to be old, strong, and people he trusted," he explained. "He suggested Martine and Lucian."

Marguerite shook her head slowly. "No. They both have too much honor."

"But he was their brother," Julius pointed out.

"Yes, but..." She grimaced and then said, "Marcus is like a brother to you. Would you do it for him?"

Julius snorted at the very suggestion. "Marcus would never ask it of me."

"Yes, but--Never mind, the point is, they would not have supported him in this. Besides, Martine said he informed her in that letter that he wasn't dead as everyone presumed, and you said Lucian thought I was widowed too?"

When he nodded, Marguerite shrugged. "Then Jean Claude didn't trust them with that information did he? If he didn't trust them to accept that behavior as all right, he'd hardly trust them with something like a three-on-one. And rightfully so, I should think. Lucian would overlook a certain amount of bad behavior from Jean Claude, biting drunks and so on even after blood banks were instituted, but only so long as he didn't really see it. He knew Jean Claude was doing it, or suspected, but avoided really seeing it, because then he would have had to do something about it. He told me that himself," she admitted. "But something like this?" Marguerite shook her head. "He couldn't be involved with it and still overlook. Lucian and Martine were not involved," she said with certainty.

Julius peered at her silently, not at all convinced and thinking she was a bit naive. Twins were different. He had seen it in Dante and Tommaso. They might not always like what the other twin did, but they were as close as could be and would defend each other to the death.

That was a concern for another day, however. Right now, Marguerite had seen the painting and the necklace and talked to Martine and was convinced of the truth. All would be well. So long as she was here with him and safe, everything else would fall into place eventually. Julius really believed that.

Smiling, he straightened from the desk and scooped her into his arms.

Marguerite merely smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck as he started across the room.

"I gather we aren't going to talk about this anymore?" Tiny asked dryly as he stepped out of their way.

"No," Julius agreed as he started up the hall. "Later."

"Right," Tiny said wryly. "I guess I'll go find Christian and finish the tour."

"Good thinking," Julius called as he started up the stairs.

Marguerite peered up at Julius as he carried her along the hall. She started out smiling, but then it slipped away and she said solemnly, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked with surprise.

"For making you prove what you said was the truth," she explained. "For not believing you without evidence."

Julius snorted at the words. "I can hardly complain since if I'd believed in you back then and hunted you down for answers I would have realized there was something wrong and we would have been together these last five hundred years."

"But that's exactly it," Marguerite said quietly. "You told me about your 'dream,' which was really our past wasn't it?" When he nodded, she continued, "You said that someone had come to you with a tale that was false and you didn't have faith in me and let me slip away. And I said then we must never let it happen in real life and then I did."

"Marguerite, trust is--"

"Important," she insisted, reaching out to open the door to his room when he paused before it. "Yes," Julius agreed, stepping through and kicking it closed. "But it is also something that takes time to develop. You knew we were lifemates, or believed we might be, and you gave yourself willingly to me, but we still only knew each other a matter of days this time as far as you were concerned. Back then, I had known you for almost a year, surely long enough to develop some sense of who you were, and yet apparently not long enough. At the first test of my love and faith, I failed. Mine is the greater sin, and we have both paid for it."

"But--" Marguerite began, but he silenced her with a kiss.

"But nothing," Julius said when he lifted his mouth. He released her legs and she clutched at his arms as she came upright before him. "I have found you again. Hopefully, we are both wiser for the experience. Now I want to enjoy us."

Marguerite peered up at him silently, tilting her face into his palm when he cupped her cheek. Suddenly recalling Vita's question earlier, she asked, "Why were you not mean to me in London when we first met? You should have hated me for leaving you for Jean Claude and ordering Christian dead."

"I could never hate you," Julius assured her and then grinned. "Well, for the first hundred years afterward I hated you, but when Marcus came to me with the news that your memory seemed tampered with, it was like an answer to a prayer. I decided at once you hadn't done those things we'd thought and I wanted you back in my life.

"I wasn't mean, because I love you," he said solemnly. "And because without you, I have no soul, and life is just a trial to get through. But with you, it holds untold joy."

"I think I must have loved you back then," she said quietly. "I look like a woman in love in the portrait and I want to be that woman again."

"It's enough to start with," he assured her and lowered his head to cover her mouth with his.

Marguerite opened to him and unlike the mad, desperate passion that had claimed them before, this time the caress was tender and sweet, slowly deepening until she moaned and stretched her back, her body arching into his. When Julius broke the kiss, she blinked her eyes half open and he smiled.

"You will never know how many mornings I lay awake remembering this look on your face and yearning to see it again," Julius whispered, his hands undoing the zipper of the peach-colored dress she wore. "I've dreamt of your smell, your touch, your lips, and your breath soft against my cheek as I claimed you."

Marguerite lowered her arms from around him as he drew the dress forward off her shoulder and down her arms. It promptly slipped down to pool around her feet. Free of it, she reached for the buttons of his shirt, but Julius brushed her hands away.

"No. I didn't have the patience or ability to go slow in York. It had been too long. Let me do this as I've dreamed all these centuries."

Marguerite lowered her hands to her sides, meeting his gaze as he ran his hands slowly up and down her arms.

"I recognized your scent the moment I entered your hotel room that first day and it smelled like heaven."

She shivered and closed her eyes as he leaned forward and inhaled by her neck, and then he kissed her there and Marguerite shivered again. Her hands came up to his waist as he unclasped her bra and then she was forced to lower her hands again as he removed it. "You're even more beautiful than I recalled in my dreams."

Marguerite opened her eyes in surprise because this wasn't the first time they'd been together, but then she realized they had been in such a rush in York, he'd never really taken the time to look at her. Julius was looking now, his eyes flaming silver as they slid over her skin. Her body responded as if it were a physical caress, her nipples hardening and reaching out eagerly, liquid pooling low in her stomach and sliding lower. And then he kissed her again, his hands and fingers roaming over the flesh he'd revealed, following the curve of her waist, the flat of her stomach and then mounting the slope of a breast.

Marguerite groaned deep in her throat and slid her arms around his shoulders again, then groaned once more when her breasts lifted with the action, scraping across his chest. Julius caught her under the legs and carried her to the bed, only ending the kiss as he straightened from laying her down. She didn't get a chance to complain at the loss. In the next moment his mouth was sliding over her neck and down her collarbone to her breast. Marguerite clasped his head and twisted her own on the pillow, her legs shifting restlessly as he drew on the sensitive bud before sliding lower.

Her stomach muscles rippled as his mouth trailed over it, quivering under the caress and then Julius nibbled his way to the top of her panties. She gasped and writhed as he ran his tongue along the lace edge, and then reached for him desperately when he caught his fingers under the waist and drew them slowly down.

Marguerite caught her fingers in his hair and tried to urge him back for another kiss, but he merely caught her fingers in his, and shifted between her legs. Her body arched of its own accord as his mouth trailed over her thigh, her breath coming in small breathless pants, and then wooshing out of her on a cry as he found the center of her. She bucked into the caress, her hips jerking without her consent. She caught her fingers in the comforter she lay on, clawing at it desperately as he pleasured her.

Marguerite felt his fingers dig into her thighs as Julius lavished her with attention and knew in what little bit of her mind was still coherent that he was experiencing her pleasure with her and using the knowledge it gave him to direct him in what felt best, what would make her cry out, or shudder or writhe. He used it to drive them both to the edge repeatedly, always easing back before they could find release.

When the sound of tearing cloth reached her ears and she realized she was rending the comforter, Marguerite released it and grabbed for his shirt, tugging it up around his head until he lifted his head and arms to allow her to pull it off. But then he simply dropped between her legs and continued his sweet torture until Marguerite was trembling and nearly sobbing with need. Only then did he finally rise up and shift over her, shedding his pants as he went before settling his hips between her thighs.

Marguerite felt his erection bump against her and wrapped her legs around his hips as Julius drove into her. She cried out as he filled her, her body tense and quivering and then he kissed her and began to move and she clutched him close and rode the storm until it broke overhead.

She woke some time later to find they were both under the covers and he was on his back in bed, holding her in his arms.

"Have I mentioned that I think you're fabulous?" he asked, his chest moving under her head.

Marguerite smiled and pressed a kiss to his chest. She then raised her head to peer at him. "I think you're pretty fabulous too."

"I guess we're just a fabulous pair," Julius said, lifting his head to press a kiss to her forehead.

"Does Mr. Fabulous have any food in this house for Mrs. Fabulous?" she asked hopefully.

"Mmm, I was just thinking of food too," he admitted and then laughed. "We were like this the last time too. Make love, eat, make love, eat, make love."

"I hope there was the occasional bath thrown in there," Marguerite said with amusement.

"Many of them," he assured her. "Some of them we even took separately."

She laughed again and his expression softened.

"I love it when you laugh."

"I love it when you look at me like that," she answered promptly.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then he kissed her quickly and he jumped out of bed.

"Food," Julius announced when she peered at him with surprise. "We won't have any here. Christian hasn't eaten for centuries, and Vita and I for longer than that."

"Vita?" she asked with surprise.

"She stays here often," he explained striding naked and unselfconscious to his dressing room. His voice floated out, distracted and easy. "It's closer to work than her own home so when she's going to be spending a lot of time at the office, as she has this last week while I was in England, she usually just stays here. She'll probably head back to her own place in the next day or two."

"Does Christian live here with you?" Marguerite asked curiously. He'd mentioned taking his things to his room when they'd arrived, and she wondered if he still lived with his father after five hundred years.

"No. He has an apartment in town, but he keeps a room here and stays on occasion." Julius reappeared wearing a dark burgundy robe, and carrying a fluffy white one he held open for her.

Marguerite slid out of the bed and slipped into a robe.

"We'll have to hurry," he said heading for the door as she tied it. "If we want food we'll have to order in and it's getting late."

Pausing at the door, Julius glanced back as she crossed the room to join him and smiled. "I've always been intrigued by those commercials on television. Now I'll get to order in."

"We should check with Tiny. He's probably starved by now."

Julius nodded and grinned as they moved out into the hall. "You think like a mother."

"I am a mother," she pointed out with amusement. "Four times over."

"Five," he corrected gently.

Marguerite froze midstep, her eyes widening with alarm. "Yes, of course. I--" She paused helplessly, feeling just horrible that she had neglected to include Christian, but it was all still so new.

"It's all right, Marguerite. It will take some time," Julius said gently, rubbing her back through the fluffy terry cloth robe.

Marguerite nodded, but she wasn't really feeling any better. Christian Notte was her son, but a veritable stranger.

"Marcus told me on the train back to London that you were feeling awkward and unsure of how to act with Christian."

She grimaced as she recalled the man reading her mind in her room. It was a bad habit she would have to start putting up guards against, Marguerite decided.

"It will get easier once you get to know each other and spend some time together," Julius continued, urging her to start walking again.

"Time together," Marguerite said softly, grabbing at the idea. "Yes, I should spend time with him. Get to know him."

"I'm sure he'd enjoy that," Julius said with a nod.

"What kind of things does he enjoy?" she asked.

"Hmm." He considered the question as they started down the stairs. "Archery, downhill skiing, swo--"

"Downhill skiing?" Marguerite asked with amazement. "At night?"

Julius grimaced but nodded. "He says it adds to the challenge and the enjoyment."

"I'll bet," she said with a laugh. "How about something less physical?"

"He loves music," Julius said and then told her proudly, "He plays several instruments and used to play with an orchestra."

"Really?" she asked with interest.

Julius nodded, but his smile was replaced with a grimace as he added, "He has recently switched to more modern music. Hard metal or alternative something." He shrugged, obviously not sure what it was called, and then added, "He plays with a band in town most weekends."

Marguerite bit her lip to keep from laughing at his obvious distaste for the music in question.

"The three of us could go to a concert and--" Julius paused when she stopped at the foot of the stairs and placed her hand on his chest. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, "What?"

"I--It might be better if I could spend some time alone with him, Julius. Just the two of us," Marguerite said seriously, and then quickly explained, "I'm afraid if the three of us go out, I would just be distracted by your presence and that would defeat the whole purpose."

Marguerite waited anxiously for his reaction, afraid she'd offended him, but he considered the suggestion briefly and then, much to her relief, nodded solemnly. "You're right, of course."

Relaxing, she smiled and slid her arm around him as he steered her up the hall.

"I'll check with Dante and Tommaso for you and find out what he would enjoy and arrange tickets if you like."

"I would appreciate that, thank you," Marguerite said. "And perhaps he could tell you the name of a good coffee house or something too. I know Christian doesn't eat or drink anymore, but it would be nice to stop in somewhere quieter afterward so we could talk."

"Good thinking." Julius hugged her to his side. "You'll get to know him in no time."