Marguerite stiffened, confusion rife in her. She wanted to be angry at such a rude welcome, on the other hand, if she'd done what they all said she'd done, well, she kind of deserved it.

"I'm sorry," Julius said to Marguerite with a sigh, and then he handed his own suitcase over to Christian and turned to head toward the couple. "Mother, Father. Come inside, we need to talk."

He took their arms and began to lead them back into the house, but paused at the door to glance back to the rest of the party. None of them had moved. Marguerite didn't really want to, and Marcus, Christian, and Tiny had only moved as far as to position themselves around her, offering silent support.

Julius nodded as if it was as it should be and said, "Marcus, could you come with me?"

"Do you want me to take your suitcase?" Tiny offered when the man nodded and started forward.

"Thank you, no. I'll just leave it inside the door," Marcus responded.

"You can leave mine inside the door as well, Christian," Julius said and then added, "Please see Marguerite and Tiny inside and get them settled and then give them a tour of the house so they know where everything is." He started to turn away again but paused to swing back and add, "Put your mother in the room next to mine."

Marguerite felt a jolt of shock roll through her at the word Mother. Not that she'd never been called that before, she had four children-other children, she corrected and frowned with confusion.

"I think he means you," Christian teased softly, apparently spotting her confused expression.

Marguerite forced a smile, but couldn't manage any more than that. Her mind was drawing a complete blank. Apparently her intelligence had run off to hang out with her missing memories wherever those were, she thought wearily.

"It's okay," Christian said quietly. "It's a lot to accept, I know."

"You seem to be handling it all well enough," she pointed out unhappily.

"Maybe," he said, slinging his overnight bag over his shoulder so he could take her arm and urge her forward. "But I've spent five hundred years sneaking into Father's desk to look at your picture. Your face has always been my mother's face in my mind." He squeezed her arm gently. "I know it hasn't been the same for you. You didn't even know I existed and probably aren't even yet sure it's true."

Marguerite swallowed. He was being very kind to her considering she'd ordered him killed at birth.

"Maybe you could show her the picture now," Tiny suggested as they entered the house.

"What picture?"

The question made them pause inside the door and glance at the woman moving up the hall toward them. She was oddly attractive in an austere way, at least until she smiled in greeting, then the austerity dropped away, becoming a memory.

"Marguerite, this is my Aunt Vita. She's my father's oldest sister."

Vita Notte laughed at the introduction. "You never call a woman old, Christian. And oldest is even worse." Shaking her head, she turned to Marguerite. "Hello, Marguerite, is it?"

"Yes," she accepted the hand held out and shook it with a small smile.

"My mother," Christian growled, and Marguerite couldn't decide if it was pride, or warning, or both in his voice. She saw the surprise flicker in the woman's eyes, and braced herself for an attack as the mother had launched, but Vita merely released her hand, her smile becoming a little stiff.

"Of course, I should have realized...the name. Well...isn't this nice," she said and then seemed to be either unsure what to say next, or unwilling to say any more.

Marguerite herself was at a loss as to how to fill the silence that followed and it was Tiny who finally said, "Christian was about to show us to our rooms."

"Yes, of course." Vita immediately stepped aside for them to pass and as they began to continue forward, said, "The Rose Room is quite nice, Christian. Marguerite might like it."

"Yes, it is, but Father wants her in the room next to his," he responded and then he was leading them around a corner.

Marguerite felt her shoulders relax the moment they were out of the other woman's sight. This was looking to be an unpleasant stay indeed if she was constantly waiting for Julius and Christian's family to attack her. Not that Vita had seemed intent to do so. She hadn't seemed to know how to react to her presence. Marguerite could sympathize. She was a little lost herself.

"Here we are," Christian said after leading them upstairs and along the hall to a door almost at the end. Pausing, he opened it, and then reached inside to switch on the light before waving her in.

Marguerite walked inside, pulling her suitcase behind her. The room was large and airy and decorated in cream colors that made it bright and cheerful and soothing.

"If you want to unpack, I'll take Tiny to his room and then dump my own suitcase in my room before giving you a tour around."

"I wouldn't mind a shower before the tour," Tiny admitted. "It's been a long day."

Christian hesitated and then glanced at Marguerite in question.

"That's fine," she said.

Nodding, Christian turned back to the door. "Half an hour, then. I'll collect you both in half an hour for the tour."

"And the picture?" she asked.

Christian hesitated, and then shook his head. "I think it's probably best if my father shows you that."

Marguerite nodded in understanding.

"Come on, Tiny. I'll show you to your room so you can get that shower. I wouldn't mind one myself now."

Marguerite followed them to the door and closed it behind them, then turned and paced restlessly across the room to peer into the en suite bathroom. It seemed obvious it was shared with the next room, the master bedroom she realized and turned away to pace to the windows. Tugging the curtain aside, she looked out on the dark yard. It was large, well kept, and surrounded by a high wall with wire running along the top that Julius hoped would keep out anyone who wished to control her.

Marguerite let the curtain drop back into place and began to pace.

She wanted to see the painting. She also wanted to call Martine and Lucian. She was restless, and impatient and wanted answers.

Mouth firming determinedly, she strode to the door of her room. Julius had said she could see the painting and make the calls when she got here and that was what she was going to do. Marguerite simply couldn't wait.

The hall was empty when she slipped out of her room. At the stairs she paused and peered nervously down, not eager to run into Julius's parents or even his sister on her own. She didn't see anyone, however, so-straightening her shoulders-started silently down.

She reached the main floor, and went searching for the study, peering into each room as she passed. All of them were empty and then she heard voices coming from an open door at the end of the hall. They were growing louder with each word, telling her that someone was approaching the door.

A frisson of anxiety sliding up the back of her neck, Marguerite opened the door she stood beside, the first she'd come across with the door closed and slid inside. She eased the door quietly closed, just catching a glimpse of Julius as he stepped out of the room at the end of the hall. She didn't think he'd seen her, though, and breathed a little sigh of relief that she hadn't been caught snooping by Julius and his parents as she released the doorknob.

Turning, Marguerite leaned against the wall to wait for the hall to be empty again, deciding that she'd head right back to her room. She didn't mind Julius knowing she was poking around looking for the painting. She really didn't think he'd be angry, but she was less than eager to have his mother or father know. Their opinion of her was bad enough alread- Marguerite's thoughts died as she glanced around the room and realized that it must be Julius's study. She stared at the desk arranged in front of the windows across the room and let her breath out on a slow sigh, then forced herself to move away from the wall and walk to the desk.

Fourteen.

"Oh, that's a likely story!"

Julius and Marcus exchanged a speaking glance as Marzzia Notte threw her hands in the air and began to pace the library. They had known the woman would be difficult about this. Of his two parents, she was the most volatile. In contrast, Nicodemus Notte, Julius's father, was always calm. His mother's reaction was the reason he'd hoped to keep them out of the matter until he had everything resolved. It had never occurred to him that they'd show up at his home before he was ready for them. He'd only called his father, to ask if it was possible for a three-on-one to be done on an immortal and what the results might be. Unfortunately, his parents had been out when he'd called and Julius had been foolish enough to leave a message that had piqued his father's curiosity sufficiently that he'd come to see what it was about.

His mother clucked with disgust and said, "The truth is now that her precious Jean Claude is dead she has decided to make do with you."

"He was not her precious Jean Claude. They were not even true lifemates," Julius insisted, though he didn't know why he bothered. He'd already told her this.

"How would you know?" she asked sharply, whirling to glare at him. "You cannot read her."

"But I can," Marcus said, drawing her furious gaze.

Nicodemus had been silent through all this, a stark contrast to his wife. Now he moved to Julius's mother and slid an arm around her, drawing her to his side in a manner that seemed to calm her at once. Turning to Marcus then, he asked, "And you are positive her memories are missing?"

Marcus nodded.

"How can that be?" Marzzia asked with a frown and then suggested, "Are you sure she was not simply guarding her thoughts?"

"No." Marcus shook his head. "I have read her repeatedly both in America and since we flew to England. In California, I even crept into her room while she was sleeping to read her while she could not put up any guards."

Julius scowled at this news. Marcus had neglected to mention that fact. Before he could say anything, Marcus continued.

"Marguerite Argeneau has no memory of any of us or that time," he added firmly. "Including the twenty years when Jean Claude was missing and presumed dead. Which begs the question, why wipe her memory of the incident if she really did turn Julius away and return to Jean Claude?"

His mother was silent, her expression becoming troubled. It was Nicodemus who asked, "The memories are just not there? Or is it that she has other memories in their place?"

Eyes narrowing, Julius glanced to his father. The tone suggested he was considering something.

"She has other memories in their place, a vague recollection of traveling Europe with Jean Claude. Very vague," Marcus added dryly. "More like a thought than experience."

"Her mind has been wiped and new memories put in to replace them," Nicodemus growled thoughtfully.

"But it would take a three-on-one," Julius's mother protested. "That is dangerous enough on a mortal, but on an immortal? No." She shook her head. "It could have killed her. No immortal would agree to do that to another."

"Don't be so sure," Nicodemus muttered with disgust.

Marzzia frowned at the possibility, but sighed. "It matters little. Not remembering what she did does not make up for the doing."

"If she did it," Julius pointed out quietly, and she looked at him with surprise. An expression that was quickly followed by pity.

"My son," Marzzia said sadly. "I know you loved her, but she wasn't who you believed her to be. She had all of us fooled. And while she may have been your true lifemate, you were not her only lifemate. She chose Jean Claude over you and then tried to kill your child. He probably demanded it of her to prove her loyalty to him."

"I told you, they weren't true lifemates. Jean Claude Argeneau could read and control Marguerite from the day they met."

"Why the devil did he turn and marry her then?" his father asked with outrage.

"Apparently, she is a mirror image of his wife before the fall of Atlantis," Marcus explained.

"Sabia," Marzzia murmured and then her eyes widened and she began to nod. "Yes. Yes. She did look like her. Very like her."

"You knew Jean Claude's first wife?" Julius asked with surprise.

"Of course," Marzzia said with a shrug that seemed to say it should be expected, and then added thoughtfully, "And you are sure they were not lifemates?"

"It is well known among her family," Marcus repeated. "I read it from Vincent's mind."

"And Jean Claude controlled her?" Marzzia asked, definitely looking troubled.

"Yes," Julius affirmed on a sigh. "It is no secret among her clan that he made her life miserable all the years of their marriage. Especially the last five hundred years."

"Punishment," Marzzia said with a wise nod. "Punishing her for loving you."

Nicodemus raised his eyebrows with amusement at his wife's words. "Now you think she maybe didn't do those things? Throwing over our son? Ordering her own child murdered?"

Marzzia shrugged. "Why erase the memory if it was true? Besides, she did love our Julius. Who could not love him? And he was her true lifemate; no woman would choose Jean Claude over our Julius, especially when he was her lifemate. No." She shook her head. "Jean Claude could control her and he did. He made her do those things and then wiped her memory of the whole incident," she decided firmly and then clucked her tongue, compassion claiming her expression. "Oh, the poor girl! She is an innocent in all this...torn from her love and child...suffering all these years. I must go see her!"

"No! Wait, Mama," Julius growled with frustration, hurrying after her.

"And I am going to welcome her to my bosom as my own daughter," she announced striding toward the door. "Marzzia," Nicodemus said quietly, and she stopped, "let Julius explain. There is more going on here than we yet know."

Julius eyed the man warily, wondering if he'd read him. It was a problem with parents. They were harder to keep out of your thoughts.

"What don't we know?" Marzzia asked, moving back to her husband.

"The only reason I called you was to find out if it was possible to do a three-on-one to an immortal," he explained with a sigh. "Marcus and I have never heard of it being done."

"Most think it impossible," Nicodemus said with a nod. "And are encouraged to think so to prevent it from being done. It is a very dangerous procedure. It takes much longer than with a mortal, sometimes days. The three involved must be old and strong with the stamina to finish it. They must completely supersede the working of the victim's brain to do it and if they take too long about it or make a mistake..." He shrugged. "They will die."

"But there would be nothing wrong with them afterward except that the memories are missing?" Julius asked with concern. "They couldn't suddenly be read and controlled by all and sundry?"

"At first they could," he admitted slowly. "It is a great trauma on the one it is done to. Even if they survive they are usually not the same directly afterward. Often they are catatonic, easily controlled until their mind heals and they recover their ability to think and make decisions again."

"How long would that take?" Julius asked, suddenly worried for Marguerite.

Nicodemus narrowed his eyes, knowing there was a reason for the question, finally he asked, "You say Jean Claude controlled her throughout their marriage?"

"Yes," Julius said quietly and asked, "Is that because of the three-on-one?"

Nicodemus smiled. "You always were a clever boy. Yes, that is why. He may have been able to control her when he first turned her, but it would have become harder and harder over time as she grew stronger and developed the ability to guard against it. By the time he supposedly died, and perhaps another fifty years or so afterward, he would have found it very difficult indeed to control her unless he was making physical contact or she was tired and vulnerable. However, in the normal course of things, these last four hundred years or more, he shouldn't have been able to control her at all, and yet you say he did." He shrugged. "That is another symptom of the three-on-one. It is as if once they have been inside the mind, tinkering around with it, they leave an opening they can reach through at any time afterward to take control of her mind. She could easily have been controlled when she gave the maid the order to kill Christian."

Julius nodded, he'd already come to that conclusion. Now he asked the other question he'd wanted to ask his father. "Could she have been made to kill the maid?"

"Certainly. They could completely take over her will, just as we do with mortals."

"But without being in the townhouse at the time?" Julius asked. "Jean Claude was not in the townhouse when Magda was killed."

"And there was no one in the townhouse in York when Marguerite tried to walk out this morning," Marcus added when Nicodemus started to shake his head.

Julius's father paused at this news. "Marguerite has been controlled since Jean Claude's death?"

Julius and Marcus exchanged a glance. He had only told his parents what Marcus had discovered in California, that Marguerite didn't recall anything. He hadn't brought up the recent attacks on her, but now he told them about the attacks at the hotel and restaurant and Marguerite's being controlled that morning in the townhouse.