Tiny peered at him calmly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips and it seemed obvious his obtuse behavior now was payback for the earlier attack. Just when Julius thought he would throttle the man, he answered his questions.

"I suspect he was immortal, but I can't tell you for certain and can't describe him because I didn't see him. Obviously he was armed, he couldn't cut off Marguerite's head with his hand. He had a sword. Marguerite seemed to think it was a he, but I can't say for sure because-as I said-I didn't see him."

Julius let his breath out slowly as the man continued.

"He'd fled out onto the balcony by the time I reached her room. Marguerite was tangled in her sheets on the floor. She'd apparently woken up to see the sword coming down and rolled out of the bed. She had a nick on her neck and blood on her nightgown and pointed to the open terrace doors when I ran in." He shrugged again. "The assailant was no longer out there when I got outside. He must have come down from the roof and escaped the same way."

Julius's mouth tightened. Marguerite Argeneau had nearly been killed. Someone had tried to kill her before he'd arrived in her room.

"Marguerite thinks it has to do with the case," Tiny added.

Julius's head snapped up at those words. "What?"

The detective shrugged. "She says she has no enemies, but pointed out-and rightly so-that there is someone who doesn't want Christian to know who his mother is."

Julius winced. The man wasn't even trying to hide his ridiculous suspicions. Not that they were really ridiculous, he acknowledged. After all, he had done everything in his power to keep Christian from finding his mother. No doubt both Tiny and-more importantly-Marguerite would think him behind the earlier attack as well. Hell.

"Did you do it?" Christian asked.

Julius's head reared back with affront. "No!"

"Don't look so offended, Father," Christian muttered impatiently. "You don't want me to know who my mother is and have turned away every detective I've hired until now to ensure I don't. But Marguerite and Tiny aren't from Europe and Marguerite's family is powerful. You can't use threats to make them quit like you have the others."

"You know about that?" Julius asked with surprise.

"Of course I know," he said with disgust. "Most of the immortal detectives I set to the task were younger than I. I could read them. They were telling me they couldn't find anything and thought it a waste of time, or that they had 'urgent matters needing attending' and couldn't afford the time for such an extensive search, but their minds were usually screaming, "Oh shit, I have to get out of this or Julius Notte will crush me like a little bug."

Julius turned a scowl Marcus's way when a bark of laughter slipped from the man's mouth.

"So, did you attack Marguerite?" Christian asked, then added encouragingly, "Maybe not with the intent to kill her, but just to scare her off?"

"No," Julius repeated, holding his gaze.

Christian looked like he might believe him but then sighed and shook his head. "I want to believe you, but..."

"Can't you read him?" Tiny asked. "I thought you guys could read us and each other so long as you aren't lifemates. Marguerite was constantly reading Vincent in California."

"Marguerite is older than Vincent," Christian explained. "I can't read my father unless he opens his mind to me."

"So, have him open his mind," Tiny suggested.

Julius glowered at the mortal, but then went still as Christian turned an arched eyebrow his way.

"Will you open your mind and let me read it to be sure," Christian asked.

Julius didn't even bother to speak, he merely sneered at the very suggestion.

"Just what I thought," Christian muttered with disgust. "You did come here to-"

"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere," Marcus suggested, reminding them of his presence. When they both glanced his way, his gaze slipped meaningfully toward Tiny who had pulled the food trolley in front of one of the chairs by the window and was settling down to his breakfast.

"Don't mind me," the detective said with amusement. "I'll just eat while you talk."

"We'll get out and let you eat in peace," Christian growled and then glanced to Julius and said, "We can talk in my room."

When he nodded agreement, Christian turned to head for the door.

Julius glanced from his departing son to the mortal and hesitated. He'd wanted to rip off Tiny's head when he'd found him in bed with Marguerite. In fact, he'd wanted to right up until Marcus had whispered in his ear that he'd read the man and he and Marguerite hadn't done anything but share the bed, that they didn't have the kind of relationship he'd assumed.

Of course, as Marcus had also said, Julius would have known that himself had he taken the trouble to read the man rather than just assume the worst. Now he felt kind of bad about the whole thing. The detective had just been trying to ensure Marguerite's safety. Julius considered apologizing for his earlier behavior, but then recalled that if Tiny hadn't opened his big mouth about his opening his mind for Christian to read him, his son wouldn't be pissed at him right now. The two deeds cancelled each other out, he decided. He didn't owe him an apology.

Scowling at the mortal, Julius turned on his heel and followed his son.

Three.

Marguerite'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 dumped 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 his mother's identity.

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 ensure 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 than her. 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.

Marguerite supposed she'd have to wait and see...unless she got lucky and Christian was-right that moment-convincing his father to give him his mother's name. Or-alternately-convincing him to leave. Either option would get the man out of her hair, and she'd much rather spend another three weeks combing through dusty old archives than have to spend another moment around Julius Notte.

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 to 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."

Christian shook his head, and then pointed out, "You're both eating."

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, Julius didn't shake it, but used it to pull him into a hug.