Chapter 103

"Hel-ll-lloooo, gorgeous." The gargoyle stopped right in front of Aldara and held out his hands. "I'm Remy Rocher. If any of these other stuffed shirts gives you any trouble, you let me know. I've got enough dirt on all of them to keep them in line."
"Knock it off, Remy," Marc muttered from behind him. "You're married, remember?"
"Never forget it. Very happily, too." He winked outrageously at Aldara. "But that doesn't keep me from appreciating a work of art when I see one. Besides, Mari's excited about having another shifter come visit for a while. I'm under direct orders to be nice to Ms. Cromlech." Another wink.
Aldara laughed - she couldn't help it. Under the charming exterior, Remy's eyes glinted with shrewd intelligence. She could see him taking stock of everything and filing it away. He might indeed be a clown but Remy Rocher was nobody's fool. Aside from that, the raw adoration she saw in his granite gray eyes when he mentioned his wife was more than enough to win Aldara over. This Mari was one very lucky woman indeed. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Rocher." She accepted his gentle handshake.
"Get out of the way, Remy." The man in the biker garb shouldered the gargoyle aside, pushed his sunglasses up and stuck out a hand. "Damien St. Pierre."
"Good afternoon, monsieur." She returned his cautiously friendly smile. Now she remembered Marc telling her about his three friends, the men he'd grown up with who were as close as brothers. Damien, she thought, was the one whose wife had just given birth - which would explain why he was human during daylight hours.
"And this is Beau DuMont," Damien continued. "He's the head of security for our clan - at least for the time being." Beau was the one whose daughter had died, years ago, trying to make her first transformation, after which his wife had committed suicide. He was now newly remarried, she recalled. She'd been glad to hear his tragic story had such a happy ending.
Marc's brow furrowed. "What? Oh, never mind. Can we just all go inside please? And why on earth are all of you here?"
"To keep you out of trouble of course," his father said smoothly, nudging Damien toward the door. He stepped up to Aldara and lifted her hand to his lips in a formal gesture. "Enchanté, mademoiselle. I am so pleased to make your acquaintance." Then he offered her his elbow and tipped his head toward the door and his visibly impatient son. "Shall we?"
"Of course." Standing tall - which still left her well below shoulder height on most of these men - she took his arm and let him escort her back into the house.
Marc passed out cans of soda and bottles of water as his friends and his father settled onto the great room sofas. Aldara had opted for one of the leather club chairs and sat with her feet curled up in the seat beneath her. The symbolism of her self-imposed isolation wasn't lost on him. He was also unsurprised, though, when his father took the sofa seat nearest her chair and sat on the very edge. He'd expected Etienne to take the young female under his wings - though Marc's father was one of perhaps twenty percent of gargoyles who didn't actually have wings.
"So catch us up on everything," Beau demanded. His own mistrust was obvious, though veiled by his proper manners. "Why do you think there might be trouble?"
Marc sat down across from his father, and replied, "Because whoever tried to steal the crown may well know that once it gets into the hands of the clan, it will be much more thoroughly protected. He didn't find it - we hope - on the ship. So he's got to be looking for it. The only time it will still be vulnerable is between now and when it arrives in the council chamber in Quebec."
"Agreed." Damien nodded. "Up until Erin was born, Katie worked with Lady Helene and Dana to strengthen the protective spells on the compound. Between that and the additional electronic security we've put in place over the last few months, any thief is going to have one hell of a hard time getting in or out."
"Both of their wives are witches," Marc informed Aldara. "Though Beau's wife Dana is also a half dragon."
"And a gargoyle now," Beau corrected. "When other shifters are converted to join the clan, they seem to retain all their original shifting abilities as well, so Dana is both gargoyle and half dragon. Katie and Dana are also the holders of two of the regalia artifacts, so they have a vested interest in seeing them protected."
"We've been very fortunate to have such lovely and powerful ladies join us," Etienne added. He turned to Aldara. "And though each of them has chosen to be converted, it made no difference in our willingness to accept them. Marc told us you were reared by a gargoyle, so we're hoping you'll be comfortable in our midst. You're welcome to stay with us for as long as you choose."
Marc had to credit his father - even at a hundred years old, wearing chinos and a golf shirt, the man could still ooze charm and diplomacy. He'd obviously picked up on the strain between Marc and Aldara and was letting her know that any relationship with his son was beside the point. He only hoped the little harpy got the hint.
"Thank you." She gave his father a warm, genuine smile. "I'd like that, my lord."
"Etienne, please," the older man said. "We only use the title during official sessions. Now why don't you tell us about Geraint Cromlech. His father left the clan long before I joined it, so I don't have any memories of either of them."
Marc listened while she talked for some time about her adoptive father then about Geraint's father Claude. Apparently Claude had been part of the conspiracy to wrest the throne from the then-patriarch, Marc's maternal grandfather. The coup had failed and the conspirators all fled, along with many of their sympathizers. Claude Cromlech had taken the crown, another the cup and yet another the ring, which had been found at a country house in Scotland. The cup had wound up in a shipwreck and spent over a century at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. The belt had been given to a witch for safekeeping, to be returned at the appropriate time. With the retrieval of the crown, the gargoyle regalia would once again be intact and the future of their race secured. Marc only hoped he was up to whatever task was involved in protecting Aldara and securing the crown. His friends had all proven their mettle and done their parts. Marc really didn't want to be the useless, spoiled prince who screwed everything up for their entire population in the last minutes of the game.
"Let's get their luggage loaded onto the plane," Remy said to Damien, breaking into the silence that had descended after Aldara finished speaking. While drinks were passed out, they'd decided to take the plane over to the marina so they could leave directly from the mainland. Damien and Remy would wait with the plane while Beau and Etienne would escort Aldara and Marc to the meeting.
"There isn't much," Aldara said. She pointed to the backpack she'd borrowed from Marc to put her one change of clothing in. It sat next to Marc's single suitcase and his laptop bag. "I'm traveling very lightly for this part of the trip."
"But before you get all impressed, just remember she mentioned trunks - plural, coming in the chopper," Marc added, unable to resist teasing her.
She wrinkled her nose and grinned. "I was moving, not taking a holiday. There are only three trunks and only the bottom six inches or so of each are filled with books."
Remy groaned. "Not another one. What is it with you women and books?"
"Says the writer," Damien retorted. "Who married a librarian."
Remy threw a cushion at Damien and everyone laughed, even Aldara.
It felt so good to have his friends all around him. He'd been thrilled that Damien and Katie had moved back to the compound to rear their child but now that he was the only one single, he still felt like he had as a teenager - the one who couldn't quite keep up. It was the story of his life. Beau and Damien were both bigger and stronger, both brilliant strategists and geniuses in their chosen fields. Remy was a successful artist and writer. All Marc had ever been best at was numbers and that was nowhere near as sexy - just ask his former fiancée. After a few too many margaritas one night, she'd admitted that she was only marrying him to be the heir's consort - which explained why she was his ex-fiancée.
Aldara though - she was different. She'd given him her virginity without even knowing who he was. He'd never met anyone like her and didn't think he ever would again. Part of him wanted to scream and say she had to be his. Each of his friends had found their mates along with one of the artifacts. It seemed horribly unfair that he should be denied his. Especially when he'd already gone and fallen in love with her. Somehow he had to win her back.