Christian hesitated, but then his smile faded and he began to try to sit up. "I think we would do better to try to find our way out of-" Christian's words ended on a quick inhalation of breath as he got halfway upright and then froze before dropping back to lay against her.

"I think we are both still healing and you should stay put until you can move without turning green," she suggested quietly.

"Green, huh? At least my head is not misshapen." The words were said lightly, but there was concern on his face as he peered at her. "Does your head hurt very badly?"

"Yes," Marguerite answered simply, and then added, "now stop changing the subject and tell me about your childhood. It'll distract us both from the pain. Was it a happy one?"

"Happy," Christian echoed the word thoughtfully and then nodded. "For the most part. Father was a good father."

"Did you always call him Father?"

"No. I called him Papa when I was young, but you know, after a hundred years it seems a bit undignified so I switched to Father."

Marguerite chuckled softly and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes to try to imagine what he spoke of as he continued, "I lacked for nothing, except for you, of course. But Gran and the aunts spoiled me rotten to try to make up for it. Naturally, I took full advantage."

"Naturally," Marguerite murmured, forcing away the guilt she felt for not being there for him.

"Father was always there for me," he added solemnly. "He played with me when I was young and trained me himself."

"What did he train you in?" Marguerite asked, trying to keep the pain out of her voice.

"Battle, hunting, feeding..."

"Were you a good student?"

"The best," Christian assured her. "I was always trying to please him, to make him smile. He always seemed so sad. I thought if I could just be perfect, the sadness might leave his eyes."

Marguerite swallowed thickly and kept her eyes closed to keep back the tears gathering behind her closed lids.

"I remember asking Gran once why Father was always so sad, and she said it was because he missed my mother. That she'd hurt him terribly. It's the only thing she ever really said about you, and she seemed angry when she said it, so for the longest time I didn't ask about you anymore. But of course, the older I got, the more curious I became and when I was a teenager I think I drove them all crazy with questions about you."

"Not that it got me any answers," Christian added, a wry note to his voice. "They had a pat line they gave me. Your mother is dead and that is all you need to know."

"It wasn't enough. I wanted to know what you were like. I thought you must have been wonderful for him to miss you so much, and I was sure everything would have been all right if you were just there with us. Father would smile and be happy and I would have the smiling woman from the picture as a mother, and she would love us both and make everything all right."

Refusing to let them fall, Marguerite blinked away her tears, and then peered at Christian with fear in her heart. His honesty was frightening to her. It told her he thought they weren't likely to survive. She didn't think he'd be this forthright otherwise. She had her own fears in regard to their survival. The previous attacks on her had been outright murder attempts and she doubted their captors had much better intentions now despite having included Christian this time. But they couldn't afford to give up. So long as there was hope, there was a chance, but if he gave up...

"Christian," she said quietly. "We're in a spot of trouble here, but we aren't done yet. Don't tell me anything you will regret when we get out of here."

He peered at her, solemn and unblinking. "I have had a million imaginary conversations with you over my five hundred years. Let me tell you. I might not get another chance."

Marguerite bit her lip, but held her tongue.

"I always believed them when they said you were dead," he continued quietly. "Otherwise you would be with us. But I often daydreamed that you were there and proud of me."

"I'm sure I would have been," Marguerite assured him. "And I wish I..."

"What do you wish?" Christian prompted.

Marguerite frowned. She'd been about to say that she wished she'd been there to tell him so, to love and mother him as he deserved, to help raise this handsome young man, watching over him proudly as he grew to manhood. But she had stopped herself because that would be a betrayal of her other children. If Jean Claude had not done what he'd done, and she had stayed with Julius and Christian, then Bastien, Etienne, and Lissianna would never have been born. She couldn't wish for that, not even for a moment. Marguerite loved and cherished all her children.

"Mother?" Christian whispered.

Marguerite felt a thickness in her throat when he called her that, but forced a small smile and a shrug and said, "I wish for the impossible."

"I understand," he assured her solemnly.

Nodding, she blew her breath out, forcing the sad mood with it and then teased lightly, "So you were spoiled rotten by your aunts and Gran?"

"Of course," Christian said, matching her tone. "I am an only child. Only children are always spoiled rotten. They get all the attention and all the goodies."

Marguerite smiled wryly and murmured, "Oh, dear."

"Oh, dear?" he echoed curiously.

"Well, you are not an only child anymore, Christian. You have three brothers and a sister and will soon be an uncle."

A startled look entered his eyes at her words, and he admitted, "I hadn't thought of that. I mean, I knew you had other children, of course. But my mind never made the leap to..." He shook his head in wonder. "Brothers and a sister."

"They will love you," Marguerite assured him. "Bastien's nose will be out of joint at first because he will drop in ranking from second son to third, but they will all love you."

Christian snorted at the claim. "It is more likely they will resent having to share you after all this time."

Marguerite gave a dry laugh. "Trust me my dear, they'll be grateful to have someone else for me to interfere with and take some of the heat off of them. I have driven them mad for years, sticking my nose into their business. They will be glad for any respite."

"I don't believe that," Christian assured her.

"No?" she asked with amusement. "Well, you wait until I'm dragging home the check-out girl from the grocery store for you to try to read." Marguerite shook her head. "No. I have no doubt they are enjoying their break from me while I am over here in Europe."

Seventeen.

"Julius Notte?"

Julius came to an abrupt halt halfway across his study as the doorway was suddenly crowded with men. The Argneaus.

"I'm sorry, Julius." Vita moved to his side. "I did ask them to wait and said that I would bring you right along."

He waved her apology away, knowing it wasn't her fault, and then arched an eyebrow at the men still crowded in the doorway.

The man at the front of the group moved forward, a hand extended.

"Bastien Argeneau," he introduced himself.

Julius nodded and accepted the hand in greeting.

"I apologize for not waiting as requested." His gaze encompassed both Julius and Vita, and then he smiled wryly and added, "But we couldn't. We're all a bit worried about Mother. She was calling home every day for the first three weeks she was in England, and then the calls suddenly stopped. Thomas flew to England to look for her and we were tracking her cell phone to try to find her, but it turned out we were tracking someone who mugged her and stole her purse and the cell phone with it."

"She was mugged outside the Dorchester the night we moved from there to Claridge's," Julius said wearily, thinking it seemed so long ago now, though it had barely been a week since it had happened.

"Ah." Bastien nodded. "Well, when Thomas was able to find her, the rest of us flew over to help. We were scouring York when we found out she'd called our Aunt Martine and left this number. I managed to use the phone number to get this address. Is she here?"

Julius hesitated, wishing he could reassure the younger immortal, and wishing he didn't have to tell him what he did, but finally blew his breath out and admitted, "She and our son were kidnapped off the street earlier tonight."

There was a stunned silence, and then one of the men behind Bastien said, "Kidnapped?"

Another said, "Our son?"

Julius opened his mouth to explain the "our son" part, but such a long and convoluted explanation was beyond him at the moment, so, he merely nodded and said, "Yes. Kidnapped. I have men out looking for the van that took them, as well as any sign of Je-the man we think is behind it," he said, avoiding mentioning their father for now. "I have had to stay here waiting in case there is a ransom demand."

Bastien's eyes narrowed and Julius felt a slight ruffling in his thoughts. Mouth tightening as he realized the immortal was trying to read him, he immediately slammed his guards up into place to block him out.

"You said 'our son'?"

Julius turned to glance at the speaker, his eyebrows raising in question.

"I'm sorry," Bastien said quietly. "This is my brother, Lucern."

Julius nodded, and offered his hand, saying, "Marguerite's oldest son. The writer."

And the one he'd never got to meet back when he'd first found Marguerite and married her.

"And this is our cousin Vincent," Bastien introduced the next man.

Julius raised an eyebrow. He'd expected the man to be the youngest son, Etienne, but he supposed that must be the man standing glowering behind the others. They all looked like their father, or at least their father's twin brother since he'd never met Jean Claude himself. But while the rest of the men were dark-haired and the resemblance to their father could be seen, the blonde at the back bore the most striking resemblance.

Vincent held his hand out, recapturing his attention and Julius accepted it, saying, "You're Marguerite's nephew. The one who produces and acts in plays. My own nephews Neil and Stephano work for you."

Vincent's eyes widened. "I thought you must be related to them when I heard the last name."

"Yes. I'm Christian's father," he said.

"Christian's father?" His eyebrows went up and then he frowned with concern. "Christian isn't the one kidnapped, is he?"

"Yes," Julius admitted unhappily.

"But you said 'our son,'" Lucern growled with confusion. "Yours and whose?"

Julius ran a weary hand through his hair as he realized he simply couldn't avoid explanations. "Mine and your mother's."

There was a dead silence as three pairs of male eyes all widened in shock. Only the man at the back of the group didn't react so. Instead, his eyes narrowed and that made Julius's eyes narrow on him and he suddenly got the feeling this was not Etienne Argeneau, the youngest son. In fact, he realized, this man was much older than the others. He could sense his power and strength and he carried himself like a king.

"Yours and our mother's?" Bastien echoed slowly. "I'm sorry, you seem to have us at a slight disadvantage here. What-?"

"Your mother and I are true lifemates. We have a son together," Julius muttered with distraction, his eyes still on the man at the back of the group. Finally, his voice cold and flat, he asked, "Who are you?"

The man arched one arrogant eyebrow and growled. "It's been a long time, but I'm still surprised you've forgotten me. I didn't think you'd forget our talk."

"Lucian Argeneau," he growled, fury rising within him along with the realization. Julius had no idea who the third person must have been in the three-on-one, but he was positive Lucian must have been one of them...which made him one of only three suspects involved in the attacks on Marguerite. He hadn't given up on Jean Claude being the culprit behind this whole affair, but didn't doubt Lucian knew something about it. The pair were twins.

"Yes." Lucian arched one arrogant eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but never got a word out. Instead, he snapped his mouth closed with amazement as Julius launched himself at him with fury.

Julius didn't land a blow. The moment he rushed forward to attack, the other three men moved to stop him. Bastien and Lucern were quicker than their cousin, and he suddenly found himself being held before Lucian by the brothers, his arms out at his side crucifixion style. The two men weren't hurting him, but he couldn't move...except for his mouth. Struggling against the men holding him, he spat, "What have you and that stinking no good brother of yours done with Marguerite and Christian?"

Lucian's eyebrows flew up with apparent bewilderment. "What?"

"You heard me," Julius snarled, renewing his efforts to shake off Marguerite's sons. He nearly managed it in his fury, but Vincent moved around in front of him and braced his chest, standing as much to the side as he could so that Lucian and Julius still faced each other.

Lucian nodded at the man, then glanced at Julius and said, "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"The hell you don't," Julius snarled. "You know something. He's your twin."

"Who is?" Vincent asked with confusion.

"Jean Claude," he said through teeth that were grinding in frustration and fury.

There was silence as the men glanced at each other with confusion and then at their uncle. Julius could have gnashed his teeth. The man had to know something. It was his only hope. Otherwise he'd have no idea where to look. He'd lose her, lose them both. "God dammit. You have to know something. I can't lose her again."

"Lose who? Our mother? What do you mean again?" Bastien asked. "And what does Uncle Lucian's being our father's twin have to do with this?"

Julius snarled with frustration, his gaze sliding over the faces of the men around him. Bastien and Vincent looked thoroughly confused; Lucern, however, was now looking thoughtful, but Lucian was stone-faced.

"I'm afraid we aren't following you," Vincent admitted quietly. "Who has Aunt Marguerite?"

"Ask him!" Julius nodded his head toward Lucian. "He and his brother are behind this."

"What is he talking about, Uncle?" Bastien asked with some frustration of his own.

Lucian Argeneau was silent and then gave a slight shrug. "I don't know."

Julius snorted bitterly. "Just like you didn't know that Jean Claude was really alive when he went missing for those twenty years?"

"What? Father was missing?" Bastien asked with a start and then glanced at his brother. "Do you know what he's talking about, Luc?"

"It was before you were born, Bastien," Lucern said. "He was missing for twenty years. Morgan said he was dead, beheaded in battle."

Julius nodded toward the head of the Argeneau clan. "Lucian knew better. He knew he was still alive."

When the men all turned to Lucian, he shook his head. "I thought he was dead too. Jean Claude didn't even let me know he was still alive during those twenty years he was missing. And he would never discuss it. He just said he'd needed time to himself."

"Right," Julius said sarcastically. "And next you'll say you had nothing to do with stealing Marguerite from me and wiping her memory?"

"What?" The head of the Argeneau clan peered at him sharply.