"Come along, Dr. Hewitt." Marguerite Argeneau caught his elbow in a firm hand and turned him toward the door. "The children will put the groceries away. In the meantime, I would like a word, if you do not mind?"
Despite her polite phrasing, Greg felt like prey being culled from the herd by a predator as she steered him away from the others.
"I'll be along as soon as the groceries are put away," Lissianna called, and Greg glanced over his shoulder to see an encouraging smile force her stiff lips upward. He managed a half smile of his own.
"There is nothing to be anxious about, Dr. Hewitt," Marguerite said soothingly as she led him through the kitchen and into the hall. "We are just going to have a chat."
Greg didn't bother to respond. There was no sense in lying and claiming he wasn't worried, the woman could read his mind, so he held his tongue; but his heart sank as she led him upstairs. She was taking him back to the bedroom, and he didn't doubt she would tie him up again once she had him there. Greg didn't think he could bear being strapped down to the bed again after the freedom he'd enjoyed that afternoon.
The outing with the others had been a pleasure for Greg. He'd enjoyed the company as much as the temporary freedom. The younger Argeneaus were really a great bunch, and Lissianna... She was smart, funny, fun. He'd watched her relate to her cousins and found himself impressed. She was openly affectionate and caring, obviously respected them and their feelings, and she was never condescending with the twins. He liked her. She was a genuinely nice person. Not to mention sexy as hell.
Greg grimaced at his own thoughts, then sighed heavily as Marguerite led him into the bedroom where he'd spent the better part of the last two days tied up.
"Shall we sit on the couch," Marguerite suggested mildly when he headed automatically for the bed.
Greg did his best to hide his surprise as he quickly changed direction and walked to the sofa set against the wall by the window. He settled at one end as Marguerite took the other. He then waited, wondering what was coming. Much to his surprise, the woman seemed unsure of how to start, and hesitated for several moments before saying, "Lissianna tells me she explained some things about us this morning."
"She answered a lot of questions, yes."
Marguerite nodded. "Is there anything you have thought of since then that you wish clarified?"
Greg hesitated. After spending a good deal of time with the younger set, he was suddenly aware of the difference in Marguerite Argeneau's speech. Lissianna and the others had what he would have called a slight accent, just a small difference to their pronunciation that was barely noticeable, but hinted at a foreign background. Marguerite, on the other hand, had a very pronounced accent; she also avoided slang, and rarely used contractions, speaking very precise English. It made him curious.
"You aren't Canadian by birth," he said finally.
"I was born in England," Marguerite informed him.
Greg frowned. He wouldn't have guessed that her accent was English. At least it wasn't like any English accent he'd ever heard.
"I have been alive a long time, Dr. Hewitt, and lived many places."
"How long and how many places?" he asked promptly, and Marguerite smiled at his bluntness.
"I was born on August 4, 1265," she announced.
Greg's jaw dropped open, then he shook his head and said, "Impossible. That would make you over seven hundred years old."
Marguerite grinned. "Nevertheless, it is true. When I was born England was in civil strife and Henry III was king. There was no indoor plumbing and chivalry was more than the answer in a crossword puzzle. Though, of course, it was only afforded to the wealthy and powerful," she added wryly.
"And I suppose you were one of the wealthy and powerful?'" he asked.
Marguerite shook her head. "I was a peasant. I was the unwanted by-blow of one of many lords who visited the castle where my mother was a servant."
"Unwanted?" Greg asked sympathetically.
"Sadly, yes. I fear the only reason she remembered my birth date was because it was during the Battle of Eve-sham." Marguerite shrugged. "I was working in the castle as soon as I was walking, and I would have died there-- probably at a very young age--if Jean Claude had not happened along and lifted me up out of all of that."
"I've been told Jean Claude had a problem with alcohol?"
Marguerite nodded slowly. "And it killed him. He died when he partook of too much of a drunk man's blood, and passed out He did not even wake up when the house he was in burst into flames around him. He burned to death."
"Yes, I think Thomas mentioned that Jean Claude had died in a fire," he said, then raised an eyebrow and asked, "So you people can die?"
"Oh yes; not easily, but we can die," she assured him. "And fire is one of the things that can kill us."
"Not a pleasant way to go, I would imagine," Greg murmured.
"No, and I would prefer that Lissianna not follow in her father's footsteps."