Vampire, Interrupted (31 page)

“Does Christian live here with you?” Marguerite asked curiously. He’d mentioned taking his things to his room when they’d arrived, and she wondered if he still lived with his father after five hundred years.

“No. He has an apartment in town, but he keeps a room here and stays on occasion.” Julius reappeared wearing a dark burgundy robe, and carrying a fluffy white one he held open for her.

Marguerite slid out of the bed and slipped into a robe.

“We’ll have to hurry,” he said heading for the door as she tied it. “If we want food we’ll have to order in and it’s getting late.”

Pausing at the door, Julius glanced back as she crossed the room to join him and smiled. “I’ve always been intrigued by those commercials on television. Now I’ll get to order in.”

“We should check with Tiny. He’s probably starved by now.”

Julius nodded and grinned as they moved out into the hall. “You think like a mother.”

“I
am
a mother,” she pointed out with amusement. “Four times over.”

“Five,” he corrected gently.

Marguerite froze midstep, her eyes widening with alarm. “Yes, of course. I—” She paused helplessly, feeling just horrible that she had neglected to include Christian, but it was all still so new.

“It’s all right, Marguerite. It will take some time,” Julius said gently, rubbing her back through the fluffy terry cloth robe.

Marguerite nodded, but she wasn’t really feeling any better. Christian Notte was her son, but a veritable stranger.

“Marcus told me on the train back to London that you were feeling awkward and unsure of how to act with Christian.”

She grimaced as she recalled the man reading her mind in her room. It was a bad habit she would have to start putting up guards against, Marguerite decided.

“It will get easier once you get to know each other and spend some time together,” Julius continued, urging her to start walking again.

“
Time together,
” Marguerite said softly, grabbing at the idea. “Yes, I should spend time with him. Get to know him.”

“I’m sure he’d enjoy that,” Julius said with a nod.

“What kind of things does he enjoy?” she asked.

“Hmm.” He considered the question as they started down the stairs. “Archery, downhill skiing, swo-”

“Downhill skiing?” Marguerite asked with amazement. “At night?”

Julius grimaced but nodded. “He says it adds to the challenge and the enjoyment.”

“I’ll bet,” she said with a laugh. “How about something less physical?”

“He loves music,” Julius said and then told her proudly, “He plays several instruments and used to play with an orchestra.”

“Really?” she asked with interest.

Julius nodded, but his smile was replaced with a grimace as he added, “He has recently switched to more modern music. Hard metal or alternative something.” He shrugged, obviously not sure what it was called, and then added, “He plays with a band in town most weekends.”

Marguerite bit her lip to keep from laughing at his obvious distaste for the music in question.

“The three of us could go to a concert and—” Julius paused when she stopped at the foot of the stairs and placed her hand on his chest. Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “What?”

“I—It might be better if I could spend some time alone with him, Julius. Just the two of us,” Marguerite said seriously, and then quickly explained, “I’m afraid if the three of us go out, I would just be distracted by your presence and that would defeat the whole purpose.”

Marguerite waited anxiously for his reaction, afraid she’d offended him, but he considered the suggestion briefly and then, much to her relief, nodded solemnly. “You’re right, of course.”

Relaxing, she smiled and slid her arm around him as he steered her up the hall.

“I’ll check with Dante and Tommaso for you and find out what he would enjoy and arrange tickets if you like.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you,” Marguerite said. “And perhaps he could tell you the name of a good coffee house or something too. I know Christian doesn’t eat or drink anymore, but it would be nice to stop in somewhere quieter afterward so we could talk.”

“Good thinking.” Julius hugged her to his side. “You’ll get to know him in no time.”

Sixteen

“What did you think?”

Marguerite smiled at Christian as he threw himself into the chair next to her at the table. It was their night out to get to know each other, but rather than getting tickets to a concert, she’d decided she’d rather hear him perform, so Marguerite had asked him about his band and if she might attend the next time they performed. Christian had seemed a little uncomfortable when she’d first suggested it, but had agreed and told her they were playing at a local spot in a couple of nights and she was welcome to come.

She’d spent the time between then and this evening looking for any little signs of herself in Christian, and she’d actually found some. Where his father had black hair, Christian’s was a dark auburn like
her own. He had his father’s eye color but her large almond-shaped eyes. He had his father’s jaw but her high cheekbones. It was nice to note these things, but hadn’t made her more comfortable around him, and, despite her desire to get to know him, Marguerite found herself feeling and behaving in a stiff and unnatural manner around the boy.

Julius had reassured her over and over that everything would be all right and just to relax and be herself, but while Marguerite had a sincere desire to feel and act with Christian as she did around her other sons, he wasn’t her other sons. She had centuries of shared experience with them and virtually none with Christian. On top of that, Marguerite was suffering under a burden of guilt and regret for the time lost with him. She was struggling.

Right this minute, however, some of her stress had lifted. Marguerite had always loved music and found it soothing, and had realized as she watched and listened to her son play that here was something they had in common besides hair color. Here was something they could discuss. Christian played violin in his rock band, and he played well.

“You hated it,” Christian guessed when she remained silent so long.

Marguerite shook her head quickly. “No. I didn’t. I quite liked it. This is the first time I’ve heard violin rock live, but I’ve always thought it added a fascinating sound to the mix, and you play very well. I enjoyed it.”

When he looked doubtful, she insisted, “It’s the truth. Actually, I was just thinking that you must
get your musical talent from me. Your father is tone deaf.”

“Yes, he is,” Christian agreed with a grin, then said, “You play?”

“Yes. Piano, violin, guitar, drums—”

“Drums?” Christian interrupted with disbelief.

Marguerite shrugged. “If it makes music, I’ve probably played it. I have always loved music and it filled up my time. Being a housewife is extremely boring, especially when you have servants to actually do the work,” she said wryly and then breathed out a little sigh and admitted. “I used to play all the time, but haven’t as much since Jean Claude died. I was finally free to come and go as I liked and I’ve been going a lot, but tonight has made me want to play again.”

Christian glanced toward the stage as the next band began to warm up. “They’re going to start up. Would you like to go somewhere quieter for a coffee or something before we go home?”

Marguerite nodded at the offer, knowing it was purely so they could continue to talk. Christian didn’t eat or drink. When she realized she was smiling and that it felt more natural than any of the other smiles she’d given him since finding out he may be her son, Marguerite felt herself unclench a little inside. Perhaps it
would
be all right after all.

“There’s a coffee shop around the corner,” Christian said as they stepped out into the night. “I don’t know if it’s any good there, but it’s close enough we can walk.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” she said as they started along the street.

“Hey, lady, you dropped something.”

Marguerite and Christian paused and glanced back to see a man pointing to a small purse lying on the sidewalk.

“I’ll get it,” Christian said, releasing her arm to hurry back along the street.

“But I didn’t bring a—” Her confused words came to an abrupt halt as Marguerite became aware of movement out of the corner of her eye. Turning sharply, she realized they’d stopped at the mouth of an alley and someone—two someones, she realized—in dark clothes and masks were rushing out at her.

Marguerite instinctively turned to make a run for it, but didn’t have a chance. Before she’d taken two steps, they were on her.

Cursing, she struggled briefly but they were immortals, and both larger and stronger than she, she soon found herself caught against one of the men, a long, wickedly sharp knife at her throat. For one moment, Marguerite thought he intended to cut her head off right there in the street, but he merely pressed it to her throat until he drew blood, forcing her to stop struggling.

Breathing shallowly and trying not to move to prevent the knife from sinking any deeper into her flesh, Marguerite saw Christian stop halfway back to the purse and turn. He froze at the sight of her predicament. The man who had called out that she’d dropped something was scuttling away up the street. No doubt he’d been paid to distract them with the purse business, she thought on a sigh, then met Christian’s angry gaze.

“Run,” Marguerite ordered, uncaring of the knife at her throat.

When Christian stared at her silently, his expression unreadable, she knew he was going to be stubborn about this.

“Christian, do as I say, dammit!” she snapped, stomping her foot furiously and ignoring the bite of the knife as it slid deeper. “I’m your mother!”

“Yes, you are,” he said, a smile slowly curving his lips upward, and then he raised his arms in surrender and walked forward.

“Turn around,” the fellow behind her ordered when Christian paused a few feet in front of them.

Christian tossed her a reassuring glance and turned around, asking cheerfully, “So, where are we going?”

Instead of answering, the second man stepped up behind him. Marguerite cried out in warning, but it was too late, the man had driven his knife into Christian’s back. As he twisted and jerked the knife upward, she began to struggle, uncaring of the damage she was doing herself, but paused when a shout sounded from the entrance of the restaurant.

All three of them froze, only Christian continuing to move and that was only to collapse to his knees. Marguerite peered toward the restaurant to see Dante and Tommaso rushing forward, but the twins stopped abruptly at an order in Italian from the man holding her.

Marguerite wasn’t surprised to see the pair. Julius had told her that he wanted the twins to follow them and keep an eye out tonight and she’d agreed so long as they kept their distance so she and Christian could
talk freely. They’d been sitting at the other side of the bar and she’d seen them get up to follow when they left, but the bar was crowded and they’d had farther to go to reach the door. She and Christian should have waited at the door for them, Marguerite thought unhappily.

When the man holding her said something else in Italian, his comrade nodded and immediately lifted Christian, hefting him over his shoulder. He then came to stand beside them.

Marguerite stumbled and nearly beheaded herself when the man holding her suddenly began to back toward the alley, but she quickly grabbed his arm and managed to keep her feet. Her hold didn’t ease the pressure of the knife against her throat however and it was a tense few minutes as they backed into the alley.

Dante and Tommaso followed slowly, eyes narrowed, bodies tense as they waited for an opportunity to intervene, but that never came. Marguerite was backed up to a van, and held still while the second man opened the side door and dumped Christian’s unconscious body inside. While he then rushed around to leap behind the steering wheel, Marguerite was dragged back into the van by her captor. The knife remained at her throat until he threw her aside to close the door. Marguerite took that opportunity to crawl to Christian and try to check on him, but the next moment pain radiated through her head and unconsciousness claimed her.

Julius stood, staring out the window of his office,
his gaze lifted to the stars overhead. Somewhere out there, under those stars were his lifemate and son…and he may never see them again.

That thought had been running repeatedly through his head for the last two hours since Dante and Tommaso had returned to the house and told him that they’d failed in watching his son and Marguerite and that the pair had been taken.

Julius had wanted to crawl across his desk and rip both their hearts out, but he’d calmed somewhat since then. At least, he didn’t blame them anymore for what had happened. They’d done their best. The fault lay with him. He should have refused to let Marguerite out of the house. But she was so uncomfortable around their son and had been so eager to spend time getting to know him, and the previous attacks had always taken place when she was alone without another immortal nearby to aid her, Julius had thought she’d be safe.

He’d thought wrong, and now it could cost him both Marguerite and his son. Damn Jean Claude Argeneau! He had to be behind this.

“Julius?”

He turned sharply, his gaze moving eagerly to Vita as she entered his study, hoping for news. Waiting for a ransom demand that he knew would never come was driving him wild, but Marcus had pointed out that they had called in everyone who worked for them, mortal and immortal alike, to search for the pair, or some sign of the van that had taken them, or even for Jean Claude Argeneau. And if there was a ransom demand, he should be there for it.

It was possible, Marcus had suggested, that this was a different matter altogether. After all, the other attacks had been outright murder attempts on Marguerite alone and they hadn’t really had to take Christian
at all once he was disabled, but had. Also, while his son had been stabbed he could recover from that and Marguerite hadn’t been harmed much before being dragged off.