"Really?" Marguerite asked with surprise. She hadn't noticed anything at the time.

Tiny nodded solemnly. "Trust me, if looks could kill, I'd be vampire fodder right now."

Marguerite patted his hand gently, "I'm sorry. Thank you."

Tiny chuckled. "You can still say that now that you know he can't read you? Seems to me if you'd known that at the time you wouldn't have been thanking me at all."

She blinked in surprise at the words, but realized they were true. If she'd known Julius couldn't read her in that bathroom, as worked up as she'd been, Marguerite might very well have been tearing his clothes off and telling Tiny to get lost, she thought wryly, her gaze shifting to the carriage door.

Marguerite watched through the window with interest as Julius appeared to berate Marcus in the corridor outside the carriage door. She had to wonder why he was so upset at her knowing he couldn't read her, but then thought perhaps he didn't know she couldn't read him either. Or maybe he had some fears of his own.

Tiny followed her glance and teased, "I'd say it's not too late, that you have ten or fifteen minutes before we get to York to drag him back in the bathroom, but it doesn't look to me like he's in the mood at the moment."

"No it doesn't," Marguerite agreed quietly as she watched the men.

"I can't believe you said that," Julius growled as the pneumatic doors closed behind him and Marcus, sealing them in the corridor between trains. Turning, he glared at the man who had been his best friend since the cradle. "Especially after you're the one who assured me it would be a bad idea to get into the whole lifemate deal because she was gun-shy after Jean Claude and wouldn't react well."

"That was Christian," Marcus argued.

"You said something similar in Italy before we flew over here," Julius insisted grimly.

"Yes, well, I was really more concerned about resolving the problems of the past than that. And she won't run," he assured him firmly. "I wouldn't have said what I did otherwise. She is afraid after her experience with Jean Claude, but her mind is turning. You are lifemates, and she can't fight it any more than you."

Julius scowled at the words. Knowing it was true. Despite everything he wanted her, loved her, felt like he needed her. He should be moving cautiously and even angry at her, but instead he wanted to love her and coddle her and give her everything she wanted and needed. Like his hunger for blood, his hunger for her was just as impossible to ignore. It had tormented him for all these centuries they'd been apart, filling his dreams with memories of her laughter, her smell, and her taste, leaving him miserable and lonely on awaking to find her gone, nothing but bitter memories in her place.

"It's true, Julius," Marcus said, apparently thinking his silence was denial. "You're confused and distracted and your mind is an open book to me at the moment. I know you've fallen in love with her all over again."

"I never stopped loving her," Julius admitted grimly. "Despite everything, I couldn't make myself stop loving her."

"Yes," Marcus said sadly, and then shrugged and said simply, "you are lifemates."

Julius turned away and paced to the door of the carriage, his eyes finding Marguerite at once. She was talking to Tiny, her expression uncertain and confused. It made him want to hurry in there, take her in his arms and comfort her, tell her everything would be all right.

"She will not run, but we still don't know what happened when Christian was born," Marcus pointed out quietly.

Julius's mouth flattened unhappily. "Why doesn't she remember me? Us? Our meeting before and loving each other." He turned to Marcus and asked, "I take it you haven't found anything in her memory to help us figure that out?"

"No." He shook his head with regret. "I've searched her mind several times and there is nothing. Just as I found in California, the memories of that time are simply gone. If I didn't know better I would say she wasn't the same woman."

"She's my Marguerite," Julius said firmly.

"Yes. Of course, but...Why has she no memory of you? If she were mortal I would say a three-on-one had been done to her to wipe her memory, but that isn't possible with an immortal."

Julius's mouth compressed stubbornly. "It doesn't matter. As I said when you first told me this on returning from California.... Obviously something was done to her. Things are not as we had thought."

"I agree something was done to her, but what? And when? And, more importantly, is she innocent?"

Julius sighed unhappily at the questions he could not answer. "I hope to God she is Marcus. I love her enough that I could forgive her almost anything...but not for trying to kill our son."

Eight.

"We're here," Tiny announced as the train began to slow.

Marguerite looked out her window, eyes drifting over twinkling lights in the darkness and then they were pulling into the large, well-lit train station. The sound of the pneumatic door drew her attention and she glanced around to see Julius and Marcus returning inside. Julius offered her a reassuring smile as he paused at the luggage rack just inside the door and began lifting down their luggage.

They obviously weren't going to get the chance to discuss things for a while, Marguerite realized and was almost relieved. She needed time to adjust to everything that was happening.

She stood and joined him at the rack. When he pulled down her suitcase and set it on the floor before her, she caught it by the handle and then followed him into the corridor to wait for the doors to open so they could disembark.

Marguerite had never been to York and found herself peering around with wide-eyed delight as they left the train station and walked the short block to pass under the arched entrance of the wall surrounding the city. It was like stepping back into her past and she felt a sense of homecoming as they made their way along the sidewalk running parallel to the old roman wall that surrounded the city.

In her mind, she could see the guards who would have been minding the entrance and the wall, and imagined the people moving about in medieval dress. This feeling intensified once they'd crossed the bridge over the river that wove its way into the city. Here the buildings crowded together, an eclectic mix of modern, Victorian, and even medieval buildings. When the cobbled roads and snickleways began to appear, she knew they had arrived in the city center and found herself unaccountably happy, the feeling wiping away the last of the confusion and concern she'd been suffering when leaving the train.

"Here we are," Julius murmured, glancing from the notepad he held in his hand to the brass number beside the door of a townhouse as he came to a halt.

Marguerite's eyebrows rose as she glanced around. She'd expected a hotel, but it seemed they were staying in a proper townhouse. An expensive luxury she was sure. It would not be cheap to own a home in the center of the city and the owner would charge an exorbitant fee for renting it.

"This place is supposed to sleep eight to twelve. I rented it before I realized Dante and Tommaso wouldn't be with us," Julius explained as he led them to the door. It was opened just before they reached it and a small, florid-faced man smiled out at them.

"Mr. Notte?" he asked, his smile widening even further when Julius nodded. He immediately stepped back to allow them entry. "Come in! Come in! My, the train must have been on time for a change. A miracle that with the state of our trains nowadays, they're forever breaking down and causing delays and switches."

"Fortunately that didn't happen this time," Marguerite said when Julius merely nodded as he retrieved a prewritten check from his wallet and handed it over.

The man beamed at her as if she'd said something clever, and then peered at the check. Apparently finding everything in order, he handed Julius an envelope. "There are two keys in there. I'm afraid it's all we have. Heavy curtains have been placed in all the bedrooms to block out the sunlight as you asked, and the groceries you ordered were delivered earlier so I put them away for you. My home and mobile number are in the envelope in case you have any problems and need to contact me."

"Thank you." Julius accepted the envelope.

"Now I'll get out of your way and let you settle in," the man said with a nod. "Enjoy your stay."

Marguerite followed Julius farther up the hall, taking her suitcase with her so that the men behind her could make way for the man to leave, then left her suitcase there and followed Julius on a quick tour of the main floor. Despite Julius's claim that it was supposed to accommodate eight to twelve people, it was all very small and compact. A door on the right led into a living room with sofas arranged against two walls. A fireplace took up the third wall, and a big screen television filled the other. It wasn't very roomy but the decor was tasteful.

Moving up the hall, Marguerite peered into the kitchen, noting that while there was a lot of cupboard space and all the modern gizmos, the refrigerator was a mini-fridge and the dining table only sat four. It seemed the eight to twelve were expected to eat in shifts. Hearing Julius grunt with displeasure behind her, she bit her lip on a smile of amusement and then stepped around him to open the last door in the hall. This led into a small half-bathroom, again, tastefully decorated.

"I'm almost afraid to look upstairs," Julius admitted, peering over her shoulder into the tiny room.

Chuckling, Marguerite closed the door and retrieved her suitcase to take it upstairs.

"This is England," she reminded him as she led the way upstairs. "An island smaller than the lower half of Ontario but with twice the population of all of Canada. Everything is small and compact here."

"Hmm," Julius muttered, peering over her shoulder as she opened the first of four doors leading off the landing. It led into a small bedroom with a double bed taking up most of the space, the rest of the room was filled with a wardrobe and dresser. There wasn't room for anything else. The second door led to another bedroom, the same size and set-up. The third door was to a bathroom, this time a full bathroom with a tub, sink, and toilet, though they were crammed in pretty tightly. The last door led to the largest bedroom. This one held a double bed, wardrobe, and dresser like the other two, but also had a bunk bed.

"This is supposed to fit eight to twelve?" Julius asked with disbelief.

Marguerite shrugged. "Two in each double bed, two in the bunk beds...and probably the sofas in the living room pull out into beds."

"Thank God Vita called this morning and asked me to send the boys back to Italy to help her," he muttered with a shake of the head. "As it is, Marcus won't be happy stuck in here with Christian and Tiny."

She grinned. "Going to stick him with the boys, are you?"

"Well, I can hardly make you share a room with them, and I'm paying for it so I'll be damned if I bunk with them," Julius said with a shrug, but he was grinning too. "Which room do you want?"

Laughing softly, she turned and rolled her suitcase to the first bedroom they'd looked at. "I'll take this one."

Marguerite slipped into the room and closed the door as the others started up the stairs. She set her suitcase on the bed and began to unpack, chuckling when she heard the exclamations of horror as the men discovered they would be bunking together. They had been spoiled by the suites in the hotel. But then so had she, she admitted.

Once again, being the lone female was a benefit, she thought with amusement. Her room was small, but it was all hers.

Once she'd finished unpacking, Marguerite made her way back downstairs. The living room was empty, so she followed the murmur of voices to the kitchen, smiling faintly when she entered to find Tiny chopping up vegetables and cursing Julius for eating them as quickly as he could clean and cut them. She wasn't at all surprised to find Tiny cooking again. The man loved to cook and had done a lot of it in California. She knew these last three weeks of hotel and restaurant fare had probably been a trial for him.

"Marguerite," he said with relief when she walked into the room, "get the guys out of here so I can cook in peace."

"I'm not doing anything," Christian protested at once. "Neither is Marcus. It's all father."

"I am trying to be helpful," Julius said calmly, pinching another mushroom as soon as Tiny finished cleaning it. He then turned to Marguerite to explain, "The refrigerator is jam packed with food and there's no room for blood. We need to make room. The more I eat, the less has to go back in and the more room there is for blood."

Marguerite laughed at his perfectly logical explanation as she joined him to peer down at the vegetables available.

"What are you making?" she asked Tiny.

"Spaghetti Bolognaise," he muttered, scowling when she pinched the next mushroom he finished and popped it in her own mouth. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he said, "Marguerite."

"Sorry," she apologized and then taking pity on him glanced around at the three immortals and said, "I wouldn't mind taking a walk to see a little bit of the city."

Julius nodded at once and straightened away from the table, asking Tiny, "How long until it's ready?"

"Take your time," the detective said with obvious relief. "The longer it simmers the better. A couple of hours would be good. I won't start the noodles until you return."

Julius's eyebrows rose, but he nodded and took Marguerite's arm to lead her out of the kitchen.

"Wait!" Marguerite said, glancing over her shoulder with alarm when neither Christian nor Marcus made any move to join them. "Aren't you two coming?"

"They have to see if they can get their hands on something to keep the bagged blood in," Julius answered for them as he led her out of the townhouse. Once the door was closed behind them, he explained, "There really isn't room in the mini-fridge."

Marguerite glanced back to the townhouse unhappily, but merely sighed and said, "It could be difficult. We've found during our three weeks here in England that most stores seem to close early, around five or six o'clock."

"You say it as if that's unusual. What time do stores and offices close in Canada?" Julius asked curiously.

Marguerite shrugged. "Usually until nine, sometimes even ten o'clock. And a few grocery stores remain open twenty-four hours. It's much more convenient for our kind."

"It would be," Julius agreed.

They continued to talk about the differences between England and both their homes, Julius sharing some details about life in Italy while she spoke of Canada, neatly avoiding any discussion about what was really on both their minds, the fact that they were lifemates. However, it was like a big pink elephant walking behind them, impossible to forget or ignore.

They turned down a perfectly preserved medieval street, the cobbled lane narrow and curving. It was lined with half-timbered buildings, their second stories hanging out quite a distance over the ground floor. Marguerite found it hard to believe they still existed and in such good order, but was delighted that they had survived.

Julius noted her expression and smiled, then suddenly caught her arm and tugged her quickly off the road and into a narrow snickleway between buildings.

"Is something wrong?" she asked with surprise, glancing out to the road in an effort to see what had made him draw her here out of the way. Perhaps a delivery vehicle was trying to negotiate the small amount of space afforded by the narrow lane. Certainly, they had to make their deliveries at some point in the day and doing so in the evening when the shops were closed and the streets less busy seemed reasonable, but there was no vehicle. The road was dark and quiet, with just a few people hurrying along, making their way home or to wherever they were going.

"It's like stepping back in time," she whispered.

"Yes," Julius agreed, a strange tautness to his voice. "I can imagine you in a long dress and cape, a silly bonnet on your head, smiling at something I said and that smile moving me to draw you here, to the privacy of the shadows to kiss you for the first time."

When she glanced at him in surprise for the moment of whimsy, he did kiss her, his lips soft and sweet as they brushed across hers.

Marguerite opened her eyes when he ended the gentle caress to find him peering at her almost expectantly. Raising her eyebrows, she pointed out, "But this wouldn't be our first kiss. That was on the train."

His breath slid out with what almost seemed disappointment, and he nodded. "Yes, of course."

She peered at him quizzically, but he managed a smile and urged her back onto the street. After several moments passed in silence, Marguerite tried to start up the conversation again by saying, "I have always wanted to come here."

Julius glanced at her sharply. "Surely, you've been here before."

She shook her head, "Jean Claude refused to come."

"And you never came by yourself?"

"I've never been by myself...well, until he died. I was fifteen when we met and he tended to prefer to make all the decisions," she said grimly, then changed the subject by asking, "Have you been here before?"

Julius nodded solemnly. "It is where I met Christian's mother."

Marguerite's eyes widened at this admission, her mind immediately shifting to the case as he took her arm to urge her to turn right. Coming here to speak to Martine had obviously been the perfect move. Her sister-in-law had always loved the city and maintained a home here even when she could not live here herself but was forced to move elsewhere for several decades to prevent her lack of aging from raising questions. Other family members often stayed in the home while she was away, enjoying the city for a number of years before they were forced to move on themselves.

"You met Christian's mother here," Marguerite said thoughtfully, quite sure that Martine would be able to help them after all. Christian had been born in 1491. She couldn't recall if Martine had been in York during that time, she herself and Jean Claude had been on a European tour. She would have to call Martine the moment they returned to the townhouse and arrange a visit. Marguerite was suddenly quite sure they were very close to finding Christian his answers.

"I can see your mind working on that one," Julius said with wry amusement.

Marguerite glanced at him, her eyebrows drawing together. "I understand that you're trying to protect Christian by keeping his mother's identity from him, but surely he now knows the worst of it? Surely there is no longer a reason to keep her identity a secret?"

"It is complicated," Julius said evasively.

"And dangerous if that attack on me truly was an attempt to end the investigation," she pointed out. "Once he knows the truth the danger may be at an end."

Julius frowned, but shook his head helplessly. "I can't tell."

"Why?"

"It is difficult to explain," he said, sounding frustrated and then muttered, "she was not who I thought she was."

Marguerite frowned trying to understand. "You mean she gave you a false name?"

"Something like that," Julius muttered and suddenly turned her toward the door of a cafe. "I am hungry."