Irisa Diamond had never in her life been as angry at a man as she had been at Cassidy the night before when he'd carried her off like some sort of prize. Not even when.. don't go there.

So why was she now standing in front of her mirror wearing one of the slinkiest dresses in her closet?  She should, if she had an ounce of sense, just head on up to Home and avoid the man like the plague he was. He was arrogant, egotistical, high-handed,  and vain. Not to mention a typical male chauvinist.  She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. She took off the dress and went back to the closet. She stared at the selection. Most of them were, well, sexy. She didn't want sexy. She wanted.... classy, aloof, ice queen.... She went through every dress (she had quite a few formal clothes since she had to go to dinners as part of her job) searching for the dress with the right message for the .. for him.  Hmmm.  Finally she found one. It was a deep burgundy in color and had the advantage of no plunging neckline. In fact, it had a high collar. Granted it was sleeveless and left her shoulders and back bare, still, her front was entirely covered. Okay, the slit up the side was slightly high, but this was the best she could do.

But the makeup she'd done was wrong for this color so she had to reapply it, and then she didn't like the hairstyle with this dress, so she redid that too, and was still trying to decide on earrings and whether she needed a bracelet when he rang the bell to her rooms.

She jumped into a pair of Jimmy Choos and was still struggling with the ankle strap making her hop over to the door on one foot. But when she opened the door she smiled serenely doing her best to look icy "You're right on time." she said stepping back to let him in. "I'm running a little late, I'm sorry to say."

He was in tux, perfectly fitted.  It occurred to her to wonder, when she saw that, just where they were going for dinner.

"You appear to be right on time too, unless there's something I'm missing," he said, his eyes sweeping her slowly from top to toe and back, lingering a few times along the way.  "You're certainly lovely."

"Jewelry," she explained pointing to her bare earlobes. "sit down, I'll be just a minute.  She managed to walk normally into the bedroom where she could fix the bloody ankle strap without him staring at her behind as she did it.  She chose diamond earrings and a small diamond bracelet to go with the icy look, she didn't seem to be doing that well with.

She checked her hair do, upswept with a simple silver clip, checked her makeup, took a deep breath and walked back out to join him. "There. All set."

He hadn't taken a seat, he was looking out her window at the monastery and the mountains beyond in the fading light. "Even lovelier," he said, turning around, his eyes doing the sweep again, obviously liking what they saw.

She picked up a lace wrap from a chair and a small bag, holding perhaps a pistol just in case, the way she clutched it. "Ready."

He offered her his arm and bit his cheek to stop the smile when she hesitated.  As she took it he zapped them out of there and they reappeared on a dock, at the end of which waited a softly lit sailing yacht that looked big enough to accommodate several people over night and designed for deep water sailing.  He led her towards it.

What he was thinking she hadn't a clue. What she was thinking was how the hell she was going to get up a ladder or gangplank wearing micro millimeter wide six inch high heels.

She didn't have to.  Or at least not the sort she expected.  There was a removable gangway, carpeted, and he led her up it with aplomb, nodding at the mate as they went by.  He guided her along the outside passageway forward towards the poop deck as the mate hauled the gangway aboard and the crew, invisible, prepared to cast off.

The poop deck was softly lit by the light from the saloon behind it.  There was a table, candle lit and already set for two, some comfortable seating and the rest was simply space...some covered by an awning and some not open to the sky and the water.  A piano concerto, Debussy, was the name that popped into her head, was playing low and accented by the slap of the waves against the hull.  The boat gave the slightest of heaves as they moved off from the deck and set sail. The scent on the air was salty.

He smiled at her, his teeth gleaming in the light and asked gently "May I take your wrap?"

She handed it to him although she kept the small clutch.  "Only us?" she asked.

"Unless you count the captain and four crewmen.   Do you mind?  I've no acquaintance with Bluebeard."

"Oh, no, I don't mind," she lied, walking over toward the rail to look out at the water.  "Where are we?"

"In the Keys, heading south by southeast into the Caribbean.  There's not a lot of wind so we'll head out using sail and a bit of power and then ghost."  He wondered if there was a way to calm her nerves that didn't require copious amounts of alcohol.  "Would you like a drink?  Or perhaps a glass of wine?  I can probably scare up some Valium if that would help?"  There was nothing but gentleness in his voice.

She shot him a furious glance nonetheless.  "I'm fine. A glass of wine would be nice."

"Then have a seat and I'll be right back."  He headed into the saloon.  He returned with a bottle of wine in a chilled cooler, already opened and re-corked and two glasses.  He brought her one and handed it to her saying, "I would like you to enjoy yourself.  That's my only agenda here.  Its action items include dinner and conversation and not much else, because I would also like to know you better.  I think you're beautiful...you take my breath away...and I wanted to see you in moonlight and candlelight and I didn't want to be distracted."

"As I recall, you saw quite a bit of me in the moonlight," she said, almost but not quite managing a smile.

"Yes, I did," he said, taking a seat.  He sighed.  "Irisa, would it help if I apologized?"

She eyed him. "Not if you didn't mean it, and I suspect you wouldn't.  Cassidy..." she began and looked away out at the water. "I'm not used to being treated as a prize in someone's ..." she sighed and let the thought dissolve away.

"Is that how I've made you feel?  I am sorry for that.  It's not how I see you." He sipped and continued.  "I see you as intelligent and competent, interesting and compelling.  After beautiful, those were the first things I saw.  And it went on from there, to what is now something that inspires a feeling of awe.  But none of that has ever been outside the context of the autonomous human being that you are, last night notwithstanding."

"Do you talk like this to your friends? Can you just treat me like, oh, I dunno, Jordon? Because unless we get to friend nothing else is possible."

"Well it seemed to me that unless we cleared away the rubble of last night there wasn't much hope of that.  And, when I offered to apologize, I actually did mean it.  As for treating you like Jordon, I suspect you wouldn't like it, but I can treat you like a friend...that I view you as one hasn't changed."

"Do you date much?" she asked.

"No, not really.  Do you?" he responded.

"No. But I have to fend off amorous men quite often, most of whom are married or partnered and should know better. Many of whom think because I do what I do they can ... that I... I don't. I confess, I've developed a bit of armor. You've run into it."

"My mama housebroke me early, having very firm views on the proper behavior expected of a gentleman.  She'd of boxed my ears if she'd been there last night.  I apologize.  For pushing buttons, and for being presumptuous.  And I assure you, I expect nothing."  Throughout his tone had been sincere, his expression open.

"Apology accepted. Do you like to sail?"

'Yes, very much.  And you?"

"When I was a very young girl my grandfather would take me out in a daysailer. I loved that. But after he died... My grandparents had a little house on Cape Cod. They didn't live there year round, but would go there during the summers and I often spent the summer with them there."

"I haven't been back to the Cape in years but I spent a few summers there as a kid when my dad was working in Boston.  I always loved it.  But then, I've always just loved the water."

She grinned. "You were probably one of the rich kids we made fun of.  Well, had you been around then, anyway. I was a terrible tomboy, in a time when tomboys were, well, considered very strange. My aunt was quite certain I would grow up to be, you know, .. one of 'those'. Only they didn't use terms then, and women like that were well, sick. It was very strange."  The last she said with a tone of almost bemusement in her voice.

He shared her bemusement, but answered her first remark, "We weren't rich.  My father was a chauffeur and my mother a cook.  I made fun of the rich kids too."  He laughed looking back over the years.  "I always thought we were the model for the movie "Sabrina" except I wasn't a girl and in love with the younger son."

"Were you happy?"

"Very.  I think it was because my parents were happy and that was the basis of the life we lived.  Were you, as a child?"  As he spoke a silent crewman signaled him and he nodded.  "Dinner's ready, if you are?"

"Sure," she said to dinner. He held her chair and she sat, doing her best not to let the slit be too visible.

A cart with dishes under covers was wheeled in and they were served and left alone again.  He refilled her wine glass and his.  "So where did you grow up?"

"We moved around a lot. My father taught math. I thought of the Cape as home because, well, I never got to settle in one place.  Dad always seemed to be busy and mom wanted me to get married and have babies. So I spent most of my childhood in one library or another."

He replied, having a love of books himself and she responded.  The conversation drifted back and forth as they ate, desultory and almost stilted at times then returning to something close to ease.  When the covers were drawn he raised her from her seat, asking "Do you waltz?"

"I do," she replied.

"Would you like to?" he asked?

She nodded. When the music began and he took her into his arms she stiffened up a bit at first, but then gradually he felt the tension leave her.

He held her close, but not too close, moving her through the turns, the hand at her back steadying as they whirled.  The music changed and they kept dancing.  When it finally ended he set her from him and handed her into a seat.  "You dance beautifully.  I enjoyed that.  Thank you."

"It's been a lovely evening, Cassidy. I'm sorry I... Thank you."

"You've nothing to be sorry for.  I'm glad you've enjoyed it.  We're almost back at the dock, but there's time for another dance if you'd like."

"I'd like that."  This time she let herself go with the music.

He felt it and allowed himself to relax a bit.  He had no illusions about the need to step cautiously, but he chafed at it. So he put into the dance he led her through.  When the music ended she was flushed and her eyes glowed.  He kept hold of her hand and raised it, brushing it with his lips.  "Thank you for that.  It was perfect.  Before I take you home, I'd like to know, will you go out with me again?"

She cocked her head and regarded him. "This wasn't what you wanted. Are you sure you even want to?"

"Yes," he said simply "I want to very much.  And what makes you thing this wasn't what I wanted."

She grinned.  "We've reversed roles. You're the one who is unsure now."

"No, cautious.  And if you enjoyed the evening then I got what I wanted.  Will you go out with me again?"

"Only if it's to do something fun.  Something you think is fun."

He grinned wickedly.  "I can handle that."

The next morning Cassidy dropped his sweat soaked shorts into the hamper and hit the shower, his thoughts, as they’d been for days, filled with Irisa. Last night had been at best a mediocre success but he’d learned a lot of things about how to handle her. And she’d moved a millimeter in his direction, maybe. Now he needed to decide on his follow up. He already knew where he was taking her next. She’d demanded he pick something he liked, so all right…they were going to the circus and they’d do the petting zoo too.

But the follow up was key. He considered his alternatives, drawing lessons from the night on the beach. It was a study in the devastation one miscalculation could result in. Giving into that impulse on the beach had moved him back into negative territory in some ways. On the other hand that kiss had told him everything he needed to know.

She was his. That was all there was to that. That primitive part of him that lived in his brain stem, he was sure, was adamant. She was the one he wanted; she attracted him in ways beyond identification. It was non negotiable. His brain stem, however, was liable to cause him some serious problems if he wasn’t careful.

His frontal lobe, however, was cool and calm, running scenarios for consideration and popping out suggestions. And it popped one out as he was shaving that made him stop what he was doing and give it his full attention. A grin spread slowly across his face. Oh yeah, he thought. That’s the plan.

His brain stem protested, pointing out forcefully the consequences of his plan, and he wrestled it into submission. Patience was the key here. Patience and a slow ruffling of her senses, a low key assault on her defenses that kept her puzzled and curious as to what he was doing. He was a very patient man when he needed to be and he had no doubt at all that she was worth the effort.

Prize? The woman hadn’t a clue. Prize didn’t even come close.

His mother had always said he was just like his father. And he was. His father had taken one look at his mother and that had been it, so naturally he’d kept looking. She hadn’t liked his stare and had slapped his face. His father had laughed and caught her up and kissed her, saying that if he had to take the slap he’d have the kiss as well. She’d slapped him again and he’d kissed her again. Then he’d ducked the next round and laid siege to her. Her sisters had said afterwards that she was happiest woman they knew, with a note of envy that had made his father’s eyes dance in a very untrustworthy way while he waggled his eyebrows.

Cassidy, thinking of Irisa was sure his mother had been right. Prize? The woman was priceless and it would his pleasure to spend the rest of his life making it plain in everyway he could find. But to do that he’d have to overcome a number of obstacles, including her distaste for dominant men who weren’t intimated by strong women and didn’t hide it, her entrenched resistance to the idea that he could have fallen in love just like that, and her conviction that he was laughing at her, and treating her like an object just because he told her the truth about how he felt.

Damn fool woman. Of course he was arrogant. Of course he was a man and of course he liked being a man, and he was looking forward to the day he made her glad he was, too. He was also looking forward to the day she slapped his face, or whatever her version of his mother’s response to impertinent men was, since he didn’t think it was limited to an attempted knee in the groin.

She was fiery though, and passionate. Dancing with her had made it plain as well that she was sensually aware and gifted. And that was the key. Cassidy arrived at his desk whistling cheerfully and turned to his computer. He ordered tickets to the circus and then gave into whimsy.

He sent Irisa a formally penned invitation to the circus on Sunday and tucked it into a box in which a tiny, delicately tinted, spun glass clown was riding an equally tiny, perfectly rendered sea horse.  He nestled both pieces of glass in tissue paper, wrapped the box in paper covered with clowns and then, knowing she had an early appointment on Home, slipped it on her desk to find when she returned.

He gave Reno a wink as he passed him in the hall and was whistling again when he got back to his desk.

When Irisa's alarm went off she jumped. And then remembered the disaster that had been last night. Argh. Why did that man make her so crazy!  At least she'd managed to get control of herself about half way through the night. It was kinda romantic, she allowed. But honestly, that man...

It was still well before dawn. Good. She got on her running shorts, sports bra and tank top, pulled on socks and her favorite running shoes, pulled her hair up into a pony tail and checked her watch again. Great. Right on time.

She stuck her room key in her bra and bounced off down the side stairwell, to the side door. There she paused peeping out the window.

"Whatcha doin'?" someone asked from behind her, making her jump.

"Dammit, don't DO that Reno."

"Sorry. Wow. You look really really good in running shorts." He thought, but was too wise to say it out loud, that she'd look even better when she was hot and sweaty and the clothes clung.

"You're dating Melly," she hissed at him.

"Honey, that don't make me blind."

"Oh, shut up and go away," she said checking the window again.

"Hey, there goes Cassidy. You two should run together. He always runs this time of day too.  Oh," he added as he realized that's who she'd been watching for.

She looked down at her watch, then looked up at Reno and smiled at him sunnily. She waited for another two minutes, Reno fascinated by this, leaning against the stair railing.

"I like to start at a specific time so I know how long it takes me," she explained.

"Sure you do," Reno replied with a grin, and ignored her stuck out tongue (well hard to ignore, but at least he didn't respond) as she went out the door, did a couple of quick stretches to Reno's delight and an audible, "whoa," and then took off down the same path Cassidy had run.

True, Reno said to himself as he sauntered, whistling, toward the dining room, there weren't that many good paths for running. "You know, I should organize a pick-up basketball game for a couple of nights a week,"  he told himself.

Irisa, confident Cassidy was far enough ahead, and would stay that way, settled in to enjoy her run.

Melly had planned the evening with great care, consulting both Baz and Johnston at length and on several occasions before making her final decisions. She’d decided on a high-waisted flowing gown of multi layered silks in shifting shades of amethyst whose sleeves, falling strips of silk, sat parallel to the neckline that stopped just above her nipples. It ended in a handkerchief hemline and highlighted her violet eyes and the masses of hair up swept on the top of her hair and then falling in cascading layers that mimicked the gown. Her jewelry was old gold and amethyst, her make up understated and her cologne most definitely not Chanel number five.

She took a last look, adjusted the strap on her sandal, picked up her clutch and made sure she had the tickets, grabbed a small box and was ready. She zapped herself to Reno’s house, took a deep breath and rang the bell. She hadn’t been this excited since the last Christmas she believed in Santa Claus and she’d been hoping for a pony of her own, just like her sisters had. And she’d gotten it she thought as she waited. A glossy palomino rocker that had out raced her sisters rockers for years.

Reno answered the door, looking a bit excited himself. He was already dressed, looking quite unlike himself in a tuxedo. He looked Melly up and down. "Wow," is what came out, which Melly thought might possibly be the best possible word for the moment.

She grinned happily at him and he smiled back.  "We ready?" he asked. Then peeked around her.  "Where's security. Marc said he'd have my ass if we didn't make sure we had them along."

"We're meeting them."  She fumbled with the box she had and withdrew a white carnation, tucking it into his lapel, then giving it a last pat to set it into place.  She stepped back to examine the effect.  "Perfect."

"Hey, this girl inviting me out thing, is pretty cool," Reno said with a grin as they zapped off to Baz's.

Johnston opened the door and bowed to them ushering them inside. "The car will be around directly, Miss Stewart.  Ms Carlisle and Mr. Allyson are at your disposal.  May I bring you some refreshment while you're waiting?"

"Thank you Johnston."  Melly said.   "That would be lovely."

Johnston returned in a moment with sherry and served them, before bowing himself out of the room saying, "I'll call you when the car is here, ma'am."

"Pretty plush pad," Reno observed.  "I guess you know Baz pretty well, huh?"

She nodded.  "We've worked a lot together for Stephen and occasionally I've filled a slot at table when he was short a lady so we've gotten to be friendly at least.  He got me the tickets.  He's away this week and even offered to have Georges do dinner for us here, but I thought you'd prefer the restaurant Johnston recommended in St. James.  Johnston told me that Georges has been effusive in his comments about the chef."

"You know, I'd eat at the Piccadilly MacDonalds if it was with you, so I know I'll like it."

She grinned at him, her pleasure in his company lighting her face.  "No I didn't.  But I'll keep it in mind for next time."

They drank their sherry and Johnston returned about then to tell them the car was waiting.  Reno held his arm for Melly. "Shall we?" he said with a grin.

She took it and then allowed him to hand her into the car.   Tobie and Chance were in the front seat, also in evening wear.  It stopped in front of a small restaurant in St. James where the maitre de was expecting them and seated Tobie and Chance at a table between them and the door that allowed a view of both the exits and the table where Reno was handling Melly into a chair.

She'd chosen an intimate, elegant restaurant, that featured a small menu that changed daily, depending on the whims of the chef and the season.  When the waiter handed her the wine list she said, "I'm an idiot about wine.  You choose for us."

"Okay," he said and after some discussion with the waiter settled for a nice French Cote du Rhone wine he was familiar with. When the waiter left, Reno confided, "I didn't know much about wines until pretty recently. Spence told me about this one. I just kinda guessed before."

"That's more than I did.  I usually just ask the waiter or order my standard ecco domini or a merlot.  I'm not very imaginative when it comes to things like that.  Maybe Spence gives lessons?"

The dinner was excellent and they laughed a lot, Reno mostly getting over his nerves, especially when they began excitedly considering what they would be fortunate to hear that night. Bring up music and Reno glowed.

The seats Baz had gotten were box and on the left side of Albert Hall, angled to allow a view of the conductor.  Tobie and Chance at the rear and Albert Hall security unobtrusive but around.  Melly took his hand as they sat and smiled at him.  "I've always wanted to attend last night.  I've been to some of the others, in the parks and stuff, and it was fun, but it's not the same."

"Oh, yeah, this is so great, Melly. Thanks so much for thinking of me." He squeezed her hand and his smile was wide and delighted.

And that was all they said for while as the lights fell and the music started.  Last night usually featured lighter classical pieces and always included in the second half of the programme several patriotic pieces that were de rigour, such as O Jerusalem, the national anthem and Pomp and Circumstance and was played by the BBC symphony.  At intermission they were served champagne in the box and Melly giggled as it tickled her nose.

"Did you ever perform?" she asked Reno after she'd recovered.  "Did you ever want to?"

"Yeah, I did.  Recitals. And I had to compete to get into Julliard.  When I was six I started,. The competitions were cut-throat. I expect they're just as bad now. Did you ever play, or want to?"

"I dabbled, in school, with a flute and had fun with it, there was never the slightest chance I'd ever do more than that.  I haven't played in years, not since high school in fact.  How come you don't perform now?  I mean even with the amateur groups on Home as it were?  What I heard at the wake..."

"Well, if we ever get a group up at the Refuge I will, how's that? We'll get you to play flute too."

She laughed at that.  "I'd have to practice a lot.  I'm not sure I'd even remember the fingering.  Is piano the only thing you play?"

"I used to play harpsichord too. It's been awhile though. I went through this Baroque phase. Lived breathed and ate it. Needless to say, I didn't date much when I was in school."

"Me either.  Too bookish I guess. And I can't talk football or cars whatever it was I supposed to be able to do.  Did you ever compose?"

He laughed. "You are a bundle of questions tonight. I think everybody who studied music has tried a hand at it. I once wrote this song for this girl I thought I was in love with. I think I was 11 and she was, oh, 16. Didn't know I existed. Luckily I was too shy to actually attempt to give it to her, Good thing!"

Melly laughed as she pictured it.  "I always ask to many questions, I know.  It's just I get curious about things and want to know, and I want to know about you.  Tell me if it's too much and I'll stop."

"So tell me about you? Did you find a section in the Dewey Decimal system you devoured when you were 8? Did you want to, I dunno, find a new Rosetta stone and decipher some long dead language?  Or did you like digging too much to want to stick with just words?"

"Well I just read everything, mostly, in the beginning.  And then I started on comparative religion and that started the archaeology because that's were the puzzles were solved.  I actually hate the digging part  but I had to do it to be able work on the puzzles.  So I'd have want to decipher it, but let someone else find it.  Plus I go off on tangents, I get interested in something and then I tend to get single minded about it."

"Well, that's why Stephen values you so much, because you do keep looking. And you see connections the rest of us don't. Marc on the other hand ... Well,  he's really, I dunno. Tabitha makes him crazy, I think," he finished with a grin.

"That whole thing is very strange.  Those bowls are the real thing.  I just wish I knew..."  and stopped because the lights began to go down.

The both were enthralled through the second half and when the final chords of the National Anthem died away both Melly and Reno were on their feet clapping and yelling Bravo! with everyone else.  The both of them were laughing and animated as they were scooted out to the waiting limo. "Wow," Reno kept repeating.

"Thank you for coming with me," she said.  "Do you want to go for a drink or shall we go back?"

Reno looked up at their security and said, "Uhm, let's just go back, if that's okay with you."

"It's fine with me," she said.  So they left the car at Baz's, thanked Tobie and Chance and headed back to his place.

She visited the bathroom as he got out some wine. He was sitting at the piano when she rejoined him, touching the keys softly,  a nocturne.

She took a seat next to him watched him play, transfixed by the sound emerging from under his fingers.  When he finished she let out the breath she'd been hold on a sigh of pleasure.  "That was...that was wonderful, Reno," she said, glowing.

He touched the side of her face softly and she leaned into his touch. Then, before he could think about it they were kissing.

She responded as she did everything else, openly, naturally, without coyness, with her whole self, holding nothing back.  And then she was in his arms, melting against him.

"Melly..." he said between kisses.

"I'm sure," she said quite clearly, guessing what he was going to ask.

"But... " he said before he lost it utterly.

"Hush," she said.  She tugged his tie off and began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers sure.  "I'm sure.  So would you please take me to bed?" she asked, as she kissed him again.

Reno, gentleman that he was, had been raised to never refuse a lady and he didn't this time.

It was some hours later, there were two glasses sitting next to the piano, and two people playing madly at chopsticks, laughing as they raced one another, up and down the keys. When they finally gave it up, mostly because they were laughing too hard to play, Reno handed Melly her glass.

"It's four am," he said.

"Is it bedtime again?" she asked hopefully.

"I've created a monster," he said with a laugh, and picked her up and carried her off while she giggled in his arms.

Julian's villa was the old fashioned sort. Well, at least the outside was. Thick stuccoed walls to hold out the heat and keep the rooms cool, floors tiled.  But the back side of the house was a wall of windows, most of which opened out onto a stone patio. Beyond the patio was an inviting pool and then a large green lawn that invited you out to the wall at the end. The wall was ancient stone and low, with an iron gate that lead to a set of wooden stairs that lead down a fairly steep rocky cliff to the sea below.

The Med gleamed azure in the sunlight. There were cruise ships at a dock a few miles down the beach, and sailboats and powerboats that tossed in the waves at anchor.  The breeze rattled palm fronds and brought the scent of tropical climes:  gardenia, lemon, ginger, frangipani. roses. And the smell of the sea.

Dinah dropped her bags and looked at the room she'd just been shown to.  It was spacious, with a wall of windows overlooking the pool area. The bed was large and luxurious, and the private bathroom spacious.

Nyree had greeted her with a smile. Nyree was Indian and was wearing an emerald-colored sari. She had a kind face and a quiet-feeling to her. The sort of woman who listened well and wisely.

"Jolie and Spence are down on the beach," Nyree said. "Please. Make yourself most comfortable. If you have a need do not hesitate to ask.  You can find me later on the pool patio."  With that she withdrew.

Dinah looked around again and then sank onto the bed.  Seven days in a week, twenty four hours in a day and each hour sixty minutes long.  How in the world was she going to fill them so she didn't drive herself crazy?

She decided to start with the unpacking.  Then she decided to take a shower, the warm water soothing the muscles tensed and bunched into knots in her shoulders and back, while hiding any tears she couldn't keep back.  Then she dressed in a single piece swim suit, a strapless peacock blue and put an old white button down, sizes too large and washed to a silky soft thinness, over it and headed for the pool.  She'd bake the hurt out of her, she thought, and if that didn't work she'd find some other way.  And when she did she'd turn her brain to figuring out what to do next.

She found her way downstairs and out to the pool, blinking in the hot sunshine before dropping her sunglasses off her head and onto her nose.

Jolie and Spence came through the garden gate about then, Spence waving and Jolie running toward her.

Dinah waved back, forcing a smile.  She relaxed into a lounge chair, dropping a book on the ground next to her.  She figured she could use it to hide behind if she had too.  "Hi, Nyree said you were at the beach.  How was it?"

"It was horrible," Spence said with a frown. "I had to chase off 10 Frenchmen."

"The beach is lovely," Jolie sighed happily, but lost her smile as she regarded Dinah's tense and unhappy face.

"I'll go get us all a drink," Spencer offered, and didn't quite cut and run but at least left them to some privacy.

Nyree walked around the side of the building then, seeing them waved, and took a seat on a lounge chair far enough away that Jolie and Dinah had privacy, but had not been entirely ignored.

Dinah met Jolie's eyes and sighed.  "I'll be fine, Jolene.  Once I get over it.  All things considered, I'm fine now."

Jolie frowned at her and made a rude noise.

"Jolie, please.  I'm sorry."  Dinah was pleading.

"Sorry for what?  You've nothing to be sorry for.  I just wish there were more I could do."

"There is.  Until the depression's clinical and requires drugs, relax...don't hover.  I'll start crying in public if I need hovering."  Dinah tried out a small smile as she finished, not sure if it worked or not.

It didn't, but Jolie let it got, seeing Spence returning, contenting herself with the "we'll talk later' look.

Nyree, seeing Spence return got up and came over. She took a seat nearer. Spence had brought her a drink.

"So, we should go sight-seeing at least. Or walk along the beach."

Jolie laughed. "You just want to do that because the locals all sunbathe with their tops off."

"Hey!  Guuuuyyyy!" he laughed.  But Jolie had already noticed he didn't look very much but instead mostly kept his eyes on her.

She waggled her brows at him, chortling.  "At least you're honest.  Just don't let me see you looking at the redheads.  I won't sprout freckles to compete."

Spence laughed and he and Jolie got into a wrestling match, both of them ending up in the pool.

"If you'd rather just stay here," Nyree commented to Dinah, "please do so. We are very relaxed here. No agendas, and with Julian gone it is generally quiet," she added, grinning at the two wrestling in the water.

"Thank you.  I'm not into sightseeing at the moment, and I don't think they'd miss me all that much anyway."  Dinah gestured and changed the subject.  "It's beautiful here.  And peaceful."

"So long as Julian is occupied elsewhere," Nyree responding with a little silvery laugh. "He is a good man but quite maddening sometimes."

She surprised Dinah into a genuine laugh.  "Maddening, indeed.  And a born troublemaker.  You've known him a while, then?"

"He saved my life in India. I was trying to sutee. Burn on my husband's funeral pyre. He stopped me. Trevor, do you know him?  He was about to get himself killed saving me so Julian took me. I was very angry with him for a very long time."

"I've met Trevor a few times over the years.  But if you wouldn't mind telling me, and I know it's none of my business...but what is between him and Carmine?  The Prince of Italy?" Dinah asked, it being a subject of some curiosity after seeing them together.

Nyree laughed.  "Well, there are several issues involved. Firstly, Julian was sent by the Machiavellis to kill Carmine when he was a human boy, well, at his age he was considered a man back then. Julian thought better of it. Saved him and let him go. Carmine hated him, firstly for denying him Heaven - he was a monk in training at the time - and also for helping to kill his entire family for the Machiavellis. Italians have this serious idea with regard to blood revenge. So Carmine was sworn to kill Julian.

"More recently, Nimue, whom Julian truly loves, had a falling out with Julian and ran off to Carmine. That is, I think, the real issue. Even though she is back with Julian, there is a lot of hot blooded anger left after that."  She shook her head clearly finding the entire thing bizarre.

"I can see where there might be.  And Julian of course has an endless supply of taunts to keep it that way."

"Indeed. But they have a great deal of respect for one another, so it has never actually come to more than a stiletto drawn or a sword clash. Honestly?  I think they enjoy it too much torturing each other to want the other truly dead."

"Let's hope so.  The neighbors would draw the line at murder or duelling on the patio."  Dinah murmurred dryly, as much to herself as to Nyree.  "Man of contradictions.  And you have been with Julian since India?"

"Yes. I had no life in India so he brought me to England with him. He taught me English and gave me a home. And never asked anything for it. It was... odd. I had never known a man who was so kind."

Dinah nodded.  "He is that.  Now that he's stopped with the housekeeper thief business."

"He can whine with the best of them," Nyree replied with a grin. "He did miss Mabel, though."

Dinah nodded, sharing a moment of fellow feeling.  "He can indeed.  And pout."

They both laughed.