Vampire, Interrupted (Argeneau #9)
Page 3Marguerite's gaze slid over the mess in her room as she headed for the rack where her suitcase sat. Flipping up the lid, she retrieved what she'd need for a bath, and then grabbed fresh clothes to wear afterward, grateful she hadn't unpacked when they arrived that morning. It saved her having to repack everything.
Turning, she moved into the bathroom and set her things on the gleaming marble counter before moving to the huge tub. Marguerite poured in a liberal amount of bubble bath, pushed the button to drop the drain plug into place, and then switched on the taps before sitting on the side of the tub with a weary little sigh.
She was tired and would have liked a couple more hours sleep. It had been a long drive from Berwick-upon-Tweed... but then it had been a very long three weeks.
Her mouth quirked with irritation as she thought of the time they'd spent going through book after book of ancient, spidery writing in now faded ink, searching for mention of the Notte name.
So much time wasted, Marguerite thought with irritation, and all because the stubborn, stupid man in Tiny's room refused to simply tell the name of the woman who had given birth to his son.
She shook her head in disgust. Julius Notte was an attractive man, far too attractive for his own good. In all likelihood, the truth was probably that he slept around with so many women--mortal and immortal alike--that he had trouble keeping track of the names. Which one of those had given birth to Christian was probably a mystery to him too. She'd probably dump him on Julius's doorstep while he was out.
Wrinkling her nose at her own catty thoughts, Marguerite leaned over to turn off the taps, acknowledging to herself that she was obviously in a very bad mood. Hoping that a nice, relaxing bath would help improve it, she disrobed and stepped carefully into the warm, bubble-covered water, releasing a little sigh of pleasure as she sank into its soothing embrace.
Marguerite loved bubble baths, and had never understood the attraction of showers. She liked to soak, and did so now. It gave her time to relax and think, and she had a lot to think about.
Christian had told them at the start that Julius Notte refused to reveal who his mother was or discuss anything about her. Indeed, the whole family refused to discuss his mother, saying only that she was dead and he was better off without her.
The few slivers of information he'd gained over the centuries were just tidbits that had slipped out over time, nothing that would tell him where to start a search, he'd told them. Until the day when he and one of his aunts were looking at a portrait of him as a child, and she had smiled and commented, "You were only a few weeks old there. Your father had it commissioned right after he returned with you from that year in England."
Finally having somewhere to start the search, Christian had immediately hired detectives to try to find out his mother's identity. The problem was that any detective for such a search had to be an immortal, and all of the immortals in Europe were easily scared off by Julius Notte and the power he wielded. All it took was one phone call from the man and the detectives would back off the case.
Until now, Marguerite thought grimly. She liked Christian and felt he deserved to know who his mother was. She also wasn't afraid of Julius Notte or his power. She would continue the search so long as Christian wished. It would just be so much easier if Julius Notte simply told them who the woman was. It would save them all this schlepping around, going through dusty old books.
Marguerite grimaced. So far, she was very disappointed in her new job. She found this research business boring and was definitely considering seeking out a different career after this case was done.
Lifting her leg out of the bathwater, Marguerite ran the soapy washcloth over it and then set it back and lifted the other to do the same as her thoughts turned to Julius Notte.
Marguerite had no idea why the immortal was so set against his son knowing who his mother was. Were she to guess, she'd say Christian's mother had probably hurt him terribly. Or, since the family kept telling Christian she was dead, perhaps her death was what had hurt him. The loss of a lifemate was a crushing blow to an immortal, she'd been told. She couldn't say how crushing, she'd never had a lifemate, but she did know it took some immortals centuries to recover from the loss... if they recovered at all.
Still, while Marguerite could understand that this may be the reason he refused to discuss the woman, Christian had a right to know who his mother is.
Marguerite let her second leg slide back into the water and lay back in the tub to run the washcloth over her arms. When she then slid it over her breasts, she found her hand slowing as she recalled the brief, odd reaction she'd had to Julius Notte when she'd started to take off Tiny's robe and had caught him looking at her.
Just the memory of the way his eyes had slid over her body brought about a response in her and she frowned as her nipples pebbled as if he were there now, looking at her again.
Biting her lip, she dropped the washcloth on the side of the tub and forced herself to relax, hoping to calm the low hum of excitement suddenly running through her again. In her seven hundred years of life, Marguerite had never before had such a reaction to a man just looking at her, and it troubled her to have it now. The man was a complete stranger. One she wasn't even sure she liked!
What kind of barbarian broke into your room and started throwing around the mortal in it? He claimed he'd thought Tiny was attacking her, but they'd both been asleep. At least, she'd been sleeping and she assumed Tiny had been as well. And really, Tiny was a mortal and she an immortal. He couldn't make her do anything she didn't want to do.
Julius, however, might be able to, Marguerite acknowledged. He was an immortal, like herself, and she already knew from their earlier struggle that he was stronger than she. He could have forced her from her room and into that bed.
For some reason that thought sent a shiver of the earlier excitement down her back and Marguerite scowled at the response. She had just been freed from seven hundred years of marriage to a horrible, controlling husband and had no desire to get tangled up in any kind of relationship with another man at the moment. She wanted to enjoy her freedom, have a career, live life a bit...
Marguerite had been alive for more than seven hundred years, but felt like she'd been in a deep freeze all that time, her emotions bottled up to keep in the rage of being controlled. Her children had been the only part of her life where she'd allowed herself to feel anything, and she'd poured all her caring and passion into them and their happiness.
It had left her wholly unprepared for the excitement that had rolled over her when Julius Notte's eyes had caressed her body. Marguerite hated being taken by surprise, and had no desire to pursue the attraction the man had stirred in her. In fact, as far as she was concerned, the best thing in the world that could happen was to get Julius Notte and the disturbing effect he had on her out of her life as quickly as possible.
The easiest way to assure that was to solve this case quickly and fly home to Canada, she thought, and wondered if she might be able to read the man. If she could read Julius Notte's mind, she could find out who Christian's mother was and bring this case to a quick and satisfactory close.
Pursing her lips, she wondered how old the man was. Christian was only five hundred and she already knew he was an only child, so it was wholly possible that Julius Notte was younger. If that were the case, she might be able to read him.
Unfortunately, Marguerite had a feeling he was much older than that. She wasn't sure what made her think so, but she could usually judge these things pretty dependably and her instincts were telling her he was older. And if he was older than she, reading him would be much more difficult, if not impossible... unless he was distracted. When distracted, older immortals could sometimes be read by younger ones.
However, if he was still around when she finished her bath, Marguerite would try to read him to get the information. If she couldn't, she'd just have to learn to deal with the effect he had on her. She was old enough she should be able to handle such situations with dignity and grace.
"Yeah, right," Marguerite murmured with wry amusement. Shaking her head, she settled back in the water and closed her eyes, intending only to relax for a moment.
"Now, would you mind telling me what the hell is really going on here?" Christian asked as he led the way into his hotel room.
Julius hesitated, his gaze sliding to Marcus for help in handling this issue.
Before the other man could speak, Christian added, "Don't bother trying to come up with a lie. I know what's happening. You got wind that I'd hired the Morrisey agency to find my mother and flew over here to make them drop the case, didn't you?"
Julius's eyes widened. "I--"
"Don't bother to deny it," Christian interrupted. "You must know that, as an Argeneau, Marguerite wouldn't be easily scared off. You probably intended to send her packing. You would have tried to slip into her thoughts while she was sleeping and vulnerable to find what argument was likely to work best."
"Er..." Julius glanced at Marcus who grimaced and moved to lean against the dressing counter.
"But that earlier attack on Marguerite ruined things," Christian went on. "You probably did go to her room first, but when she wasn't there, you went to the other room and found her and Tiny in bed and..." His voice faded, his expression becoming considering as he finished, "and for some reason you freaked out. Why is that?"
Julius stiffened, and clamped his mouth shut, refusing to answer.
It didn't matter. Expression brightening with realization, Christian guessed, "Even though she was sleeping and vulnerable, you couldn't get into her mind. Could you?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Julius muttered. "She's younger than I, centuries younger... and was sleeping."
"That's right, and you should have been able to read her, but couldn't!" Sure, he was right, Christian was practically crowing. "That's why you attacked Tiny. You were jealous!" He shook his head with amazement. "As long as I've known you, you've been a cold, hard, emotionless bastard, but when you found you couldn't read Marguerite you couldn't stand the fact that she was in bed with Tiny and just lost it."
"I thought he was attacking her," Julius insisted staunchly, but his mind was taken up with wondering if he really had been a cold, emotionless bastard all these centuries. He knew he'd been a bit grumpy maybe, but Christian's description seemed a bit harsh.
"Attacking her?" Christian snorted. "You didn't think that for a minute. They were both sleeping when you went in. You freaked because Tiny was in bed with the woman who was a true lifemate to you!"
Shoulders slumping, Julius moved past Marcus to take one of the chairs on either side of the small table by the window. Once settled, he slid his gaze back to his son to see him grinning widely. Julius scowled. "Why are you smiling like that?"
"I'm happy for you," Christian said simply.
"Right... well..." Julius shifted uncomfortably.
"And now you need me," he added with delight. "I have a bargaining chip."
Julius stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Christian grinned, seeming to savor the moment, and then his expression became more serious as he said, "While in California I found out that Marguerite suffered horribly in her marriage to Jean Claude Argeneau. She has absolutely no interest in finding herself caught in another relationship that might turn out so badly." A troubled expression crossed his face as he added, "I'm quite sure that if she even suspects you might be a lifemate, she'll drop everything and head back to Canada so fast your head would spin."
Julius released a heavy sigh. Marcus had already told him something similar.
"On the bright side," Christian went on, sounding more cheerful. "You need me to keep my mouth shut about your not being able to read her. And, you need an excuse for staying near her that won't reveal you think you're lifemates."
"Blackmail, son?" he asked dryly.
"Not blackmail. A bargain," Christian insisted firmly and pointed out, "You don't have to take it. You could try telling Marguerite that you think she's your lifemate and have her try to read you and see how she reacts if she can't."
"I may not be able to read her, but she may be able to read me," Julius pointed out, trying for nonchalance as he reached out and plucked a grape from the fruit bowl and popped it in his mouth. "She may not be my lifemate at all."
Julius stopped chewing the grape in his mouth, eyes widening as he recognized that he was, indeed, eating. But then he realized that his son had said, 'You're both eating.' Quickly swallowing the grape, he asked, "Marguerite has eaten too?"
"She pinched a sausage from Tiny's breakfast when she thought no one was looking," he announced with a slow smile.
Julius sat back, a smile coming to his own lips. He'd been through this before, but had forgotten that an immortal's appetite for food returned when they met a lifemate. He had no idea why that happened. Marcus and he had once discussed it and the only conclusion they'd come to was that the awakening of one appetite brought the others back to life. Sex was glorious, life was grand, and food suddenly had more flavor. Where once it had seemed boring and a waste of time to eat, everything tasted delicious.
"I'm more than happy to help you out," Christian announced, drawing his attention once more. He then added, "But I want to know who my mother is."
Julius considered him silently, and then said, "Fine. But--" he added firmly before Christian could speak. "The deal is that you keep your mouth shut and help me with a cover story to stay close to Marguerite until everything is sorted out with her, and then I will tell you about your mother."
Christian narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. "So... after five hundred years of refusing to even talk about her, you're willing to tell me who my mother is to get Marguerite," he said slowly and then asked, "Does this mean you're over my mother?"
Julius hesitated and then said in a gruff voice, "I'll never be over your mother, Christian. But I want Marguerite."
The words didn't seem to surprise Christian. He accepted them with a solemn nod and said, "All right. It's a deal."
When the younger man then crossed the room with hand held out to seal the bargain, he didn't shake it, but used it to pull his father into a hug.
"I'm happy for you, Father," Christian said sincerely as he slapped him firmly on the back. "I like Marguerite."
"Thank you," Julius murmured.
"And now that we've made the bargain," he added with a grin as they stepped back from each other. "I can tell you that I would have helped you anyway, even if you hadn't agreed to tell me who my real mother is."
When Julius raised one eyebrow, Christian shrugged and added, "You forget I'm not as ruthless as you. I could never stand between you and someone who might help you forget my mother and be happy again."
Laughing at his expression, Christian stepped away and moved around the table to settle in the second chair. "So, with Marguerite in the bath, we have, at least an hour to come up with a good excuse to have you stick close to her. She liked long baths when we were in California and I doubt that's changed," he added for Julius's sake, as he set a pad of hotel stationery in front of him on the table.
Nodding, Julius moved to reclaim his own chair as Marcus snagged the chair at the dressing table and brought it over to join them.
"The easiest way to handle this is probably to stick as close to the truth as possible," Christian said thoughtfully. "Obviously it will have to include the attack on her."
Julius watched him warily, but didn't comment.
"We can tell her that you suspect the attack was perpetrated by my mother's family, that the Morrissey agency's taking on the case and leading it into England has made them nervous and they will try to stop it any way they can."
Julius eyes widened incredulously. "How did you--?"
"I'm not an idiot, Father," Christian interrupted dryly. "The attack has to do with the case and since I know you wouldn't sink so low, that leaves my mother's family. Obviously, someone besides you doesn't want me learning my maternal origins. Besides, the only good reason for you to keep the secret all this time is to protect me."
"Your mother ordered you killed at birth," Marcus announced quietly.
Julius turned a glare on the man for revealing that and then glanced back to his son. Anger and pain for the lad mingled in his own heart as he saw the stark expression on his face, and then Christian quickly looked down to the pad he was doodling on, hiding it. After a moment, he cleared his throat.
"Right, so it's probably her family behind the attack on Marguerite. Unless my mother's really still alive, then I guess it could be her."
When he raised a questioning glance, Julius hesitated, but kept silent in the end, unwilling to reveal if that was the case.
"At any rate," Christian continued on a sigh when his father remained stubbornly silent. "I'll tell Marguerite that--out of fear for me--you finally revealed that my mother tried to kill me at birth and you suspect her people are behind the attack earlier. That despite this, I want to continue the investigation and that while you refuse to reveal any more, you have decided to remain with us to ensure our safety until we give up, or to be on hand should we solve the case."
Christian paused and considered the plan and nodded. "That should ensure she stops thinking you're a stubborn ass for not telling me who my mother is."
"And paint you in a more favorable light, as well as give you a reason to stay close to her." He paused and eyed his father. "The rest, unfortunately, is up to you."
"Unfortunately?" Julius echoed in a warning growl.
"Well," Christian grimaced. "Father, I don't know what you were like when you were younger, but you aren't exactly a Romeo type now, are you? I mean, the maids at the house and the secretaries in the office are terrified of you, and--"
"I do know how to woo a woman," Julius interrupted dryly. When Christian didn't hide his doubt, he scowled and insisted, "I do."
"Hmm," Christian murmured doubtfully.
"I do have some experience with the opposite sex, Son," he said condescendingly. "I haven't lived like a monk all my life. In fact, I used to be something of a rogue in my day."
"I'm sure you were," Christian said soothingly, and then added, "But your day was a hell of a long time ago, Father. Times have changed, women have changed..." He shrugged. "You might need a little help is all I'm saying."
Julius frowned as the words began to raise uncertainty in him. It had been a long time since he'd wooed a woman. In fact, he hadn't since his son's birth, instead, concentrating on keeping him safe and being a father as well as running the family company. But surely things hadn't changed that much?
"Don't worry, Father. I'll help out," Christian said encouragingly. "And I'll really build you up to Marguerite. I'm sure it will be fine."
"I'll help too."
Julius glanced around in surprise as Dante pushed himself away from the frame of the door leading into the rest of the suite. He'd obviously been there listening for some time, Julius realized with irritation as he watched him lead his twin, Tommaso, into the room.
"How long have you two been standing there?" he asked with irritation as Dante dropped onto the bed and leaned his back against the headboard.
"I think we heard most everything," Tommaso admitted as he took the other side of the bed. He crossed his legs at the ankle, clasped his hands on his lower stomach, and recited, "Marguerite's your lifemate. Christian's mother tried to kill him and is probably behind an attack on Marguerite that we apparently missed. And you need help wooing Marguerite. I don't think we missed anything."
"No, you didn't," Christian agreed with amusement. He then smiled at Julius and said, "See? We're all on your side. You'll have lots of help wooing Marguerite."
"God help me," Julius muttered, scrubbing one hand wearily through his hair.
Marguerite opened her eyes and grimaced as she immediately became aware of the unpleasant chill to her bathwater. She'd fallen asleep in the tub and it seemed obvious from the temperature of the water and the lack of bubbles remaining that she'd slept for a good length of time. Her guess would have been that she'd slept for half an hour, though she didn't have a watch to see if she was right.
She did feel better for the sleep, though, it made up for the disturbed night she'd had, thanks to the first, and the second, attack.
Humming to herself, Marguerite turned on the hot water to warm up the bathwater and then quickly finished her bath, shampooing and applying cream rinse to her hair before running a soapy washcloth over all the bits she'd missed earlier. She then got out, toweled off, dressed, and quickly dried her hair.
Marguerite didn't bother with makeup except to apply some lipstick. She then gathered her things together and carried them out to put them in her suitcase. She paused when it came to Tiny's robe, considering returning it to him so he could pack it with his things. After a moment, however, she decided she could return it to him when they got to the new hotel, and threw it in her suitcase as well. After a quick check to be sure she had everything, Marguerite zipped up the suitcase with some relief. She was oddly eager to finish and get out of the room. For some reason, being in there was now giving her the creeps.
Strange, she thought, since she hadn't felt that way when she'd first returned to the room to collect things for her bath. But right now, she felt as if someone was watching her.
Marguerite started to glance toward the curtained wall facing the terrace, but caught herself. She was suddenly sure there was someone there, peering through the small gap where the curtains didn't quite meet, and she didn't want them to know she knew.
Leaving the suitcase for now, she moved to the table and chairs set in front of one side of the terrace doors, but didn't sit. She bent and pretended to write a note on the hotel stationary, scribbling nonsense in the hopes of relaxing anyone who might be outside her balcony doors. Marguerite then straightened as if to head back the way she'd come, but instead, lunged for the curtain and jerked it open.
Even though she'd suspected someone might be out there, she still took a startled step back, a surprised shout slipping from her lips when she spotted the dark figure peering at her through the window.
Marguerite wasn't the only one startled. When the curtain was pulled back allowing light from the hotel room to spill over him, the figure on the terrace leapt back as if scalded. The action sent him bumping into a chair, knocking it over. He reached for it as if to straighten, but then whirled away to run to the right. Marguerite stared after him until the curtain still in place blocked her view, and then realized he was getting away and lunged for the terrace doors.