CHAPTER 14

"Cordelia, you awake, love?" Doyle asked, reaching over to shake her shoulder and smiling when she swatted his hand away.

She sat upright in an instant, glaring at him furiously as she launched into a tirade. She was even nicely rested for it. "Alright, I've had enough – what the hell is with all this nice stuff? You just beat up my friends, killed like a hundred guys…"

"Thirty two, actually." Doyle corrected, his smile widening when it successfully made her even angrier.

"What…why…you're totally missing the point!" She snapped.

"No I'm not, I'm simply saying I don't feel we need to exaggerate the actual number of deaths, wouldn't be right to take credit without the fun of actually killing the other sixty eight you've dreamt up in your mind. But now that we've cleared that up, by all means, continue on your rant." He said and gave a sideways glance to watch her scowl reach epic proportions.

"You do your best to make Angel a part of the kitchen décor…or complete lack there of…in Wesley's apartment, you pin Wesley down when he's finally starting to heal from you breaking just about every bone in his chest – and, might I add, you've never even once taken the time to properly introduce yourself to him…" Cordelia began and Doyle tried to suppress his amusement at hearing her priorities. "You kill thirty two guys with your little black-magic shtick, you steal us this…" Her expression softened as she looked around the interior of the car, "unbelievably posh Mercedes with fantastic leather, I mean seriously this stuff is like butter…" She breathed as she ran her hand over the back of the seat but caught herself a second later, trying to remember where she was going with this…oh yeah! "And the whole time you're treating me all sweet and stuff despite the fact that, hello, you're EVIL! What gives?" She demanded.

"Well I figured it was the least I could do after…" He began but she cut him off again, leaving him to look out his side-view mirror to make his smirk less noticeable.

"And don't think for one second that I'm ever going to forget what you're capable of, buster! You're not getting off the hook for that; I don't care–" She paused as he passed her a box.

"You'll need to put that on." He said, trying not to laugh at how she was desperately trying to continue her tirade and ignore her intrigue at the blue box in her hands. "You were saying?"

"Right – I was saying that I don't care…how many…little…ring sized…Tiffany's…boxes you give me…" She said, slowly losing the momentum of her argument as she opened it. Her eyes bulged seeing its contents. "Or how beautiful the ring…inside…may…is this 3 carats?" Cordelia asked in a hopeful tone as she turned to face him and he nodded. She blinked repeatedly, shaking her head and clearing her throat, forcing a scowl back onto her face even as she slid the ring onto her finger. "Regardless, you're still evil and it doesn't matter if your taste in clothes and jewelry and your bank account has apparently improved since…where are we going?" She asked, derailing again as she noted the pink palace of a five star resort they were pulling into.

"Hmm? Oh, like I told Angel – somewhere you'll be safe – but please, go on with what you were saying." He said and noted that she was all but pressing herself to the window now, her breathing sounding like she was getting ready to have a money-meltdown.

"Umm…saying…I was…saying…something important…" Cordelia trailed off, unable to speak as she took in the beauty of the place.

"Just follow my lead, alright?" Doyle said as he pulled up to the valet, though he doubted that would be any problem judging by her reaction to the door being opened for her and a member of the hotel staff helping her out of the car as if she were made of glass. He fought the urge to kill the man, deciding to let him off the hook since minimal contact had been made during the act. Besides, his attentions were more on her expression in that moment than homicidal thoughts.

A well-dressed man hurried over and shook Doyle's hand exuberantly. "Mr. Dalton, my name is Mr. Luvisutto and I will be your personal concierge. On behalf of the Don CeSar let me welcome you to our resort; it is truly an honor to have you staying with us. Please, follow me – our staff will take your bags."

Doyle shook his head. "Don't have any; figured we're celebrating new beginnings...why not start fresh?" He said with a smile as he handed his keys to the valet and walked over to take Cordelia's arm in his.

The man clasped his hands in front of him and grinned at the prospect of them spending a ridiculous amount of money at the resort. "Very good, sir – a marvelous idea; and might I say congratulations to you and Ms. Ryan – twins are quite a blessing."

Cordelia turned and looked back at him in awe, too stunned to speak and Doyle cleared his throat. "She's still letting it sink in, we didn't know we could conceive at all let alone with twins – and then the engagement, she's had more excitement in one day than most get in their lives." He let his eyes pass over her face adoringly as he ran a hand over her hair. "I think it all seems a bit unreal for her at this point. She'll relax once we get upstairs."

"Of course, I would imagine it to be a great deal to take in all at once. Please, allow me to show you to the penthouse, everything is as you've requested." He assured them as he led the way.

Cordelia arched a thoroughly impressed brow at the word 'penthouse', turning to face Doyle slowly and looking ready to burst with a million questions. He mouthed a discrete 'shush' to her and flashed her the best smile this body had in its extensive wardrobe of smiles, the one with the dimples and glittering eyes and all that. It had the desired effect, a genuine smile formed on her lips in response as she kept her silence.

She let the massive, breathtaking lobby and the beautiful fountain at its center catch her attention a second later. Taking in the interior of the resort and its towering ceilings kept her happily occupied as they made their trek. Listening to Luvisutto rambling about things like their own private section of beach which was available to them 24 hours a day and personal chef that would be on call to cater to any craving, any time kept her head spinning as the elevator carried them up through the many floors.

When they reached the penthouse and the elevator doors slid open Cordelia leaned against Doyle heavily, holding onto his arm in a vice grip as they stepped out into the suite that took up the entire top level of the hotel. Chandeliers bathed the extravagantly furnished suite in a soft, welcoming glow; classical music was playing faintly from an unseen source setting an atmosphere of tranquility. She managed to find her strength again by some miracle, walking away from him and venturing toward the open glass doors leading to the balcony overlooking the ocean.

"Would you like Ms. Ryan's…welcome gift…now, or would you two like to settle in for a while first?" Luvisutto asked quietly.

"Give us a few minutes, I think." Doyle said distractedly as he watched Cordelia wandering out onto the balcony.

"Just press 1 on any of the phones for a direct line to me, I'll be available for any assistance you need, no matter the hour." Luvisutto assured him, smiling and bowing his head as several bills were pressed into his palm. "Thank you, sir. Again, welcome to the Don CeSar." He said happily as he returned to the elevator and left the new guests to their privacy.

"I'm sorry," Doyle began as he walked out onto the balcony and grabbed a few grapes from the fruit waiting on the table, popping them into his mouth as he approached her. He leaned on the stone railing beside her and looked out across the moonlit sea, "You were talking down there in the car and we got interrupted." He said, smiling when she looked back at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Umm…Doyle? How…?" She tried, motioning around them in confusion.

"Ah…right, that." He said with a nod, turning and leaning his back against the railing. "Well Wolfram & Hart gave me access to a computer in their building during those weeks while I was waiting for the happy news…" He arched a brow and smirked, "did ya know your boy had a great deal of knowledge in his head by way of hacking and embezzlement? Never used it, of course, since that would be 'wrong' but it was all there, just waiting to be used – everything from the 'how's of the actual taking to transferring the money through banks in remote countries to make it untraceable. And creating false identities, too; he was a great deal smarter than I think he let on." Doyle, or Evil Doyle rather, explained. "It's amazing the things you can accomplish when you're not restricted by matters of conscience."

Cordelia stared at him slack-jawed for a second. "Wait, wait, wait just a damned minute! You're telling me that Doyle…as in my Doyle knew how to do all this? And he was living in that hell-hole apartment, struggling to afford enough to get him drunk and ducking demons that were ready to kill him over a few thousand dollars?" She asked in amazement.

"'Fraid so, princess; was trying to do 'right' or some such nonsense. You'd not believe the things in this mind…" He said with an impressed laugh.

Cordelia frowned at that and stared out at the ocean, her eyes darkening with the tinges of sadness. He was right, she wouldn't believe it, not like her and Doyle had ever really gotten the chance to let one another in before he'd went and made himself a hero on her…they'd meant to, though. They'd been so close to it and then…

Doyle noted the difference in her posture and narrowed his eyes on her. "What's wrong?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and studying the sudden change in her expression.

"It's just…don't tell me anything else about what's in his mind, okay?" She said weakly, hugging herself against the night breeze, suddenly not finding the view to be so fantastic. She'd much rather be standing with her Doyle in his hideously furnished shoebox apartment. "It's not right." She whispered and he saw the lights reflecting in her tear-filled eyes.

He watched her curiously. "You really miss him, yeah?" He asked with honest interest.

Cordelia sniffled and nodded, discretely wiping the few tears that had managed to fall from her cheeks.

He was still staring at her, finding these shifts in her to be fascinating. "Alright, love – alright." He said soothingly, running a hand over her back. "But before we start that new rule I am gonna tell ya I can't take credit for this whole vacation itinerary – he'd already thought all of it up as a 'if I ever have the money' scenario for you." She turned and looked at him in surprise and he nodded. "It's true, the resort, the suite, the view, the ring, everything – funny really, he could have afforded cars and houses and more with how much it all cost but this plan was definitely on the to-do list before any of tha."

"Why?" She whispered so faintly it was almost lost in the sounds of the waves breaking below.

He stared at her in confusion for a second before attempting to answer. "Well I'd imagine it was due to him caring more about your happiness than…" He tried but she shook her head and cut him off.

"No, not that…I mean…getting back to what I was asking in the car – why are you doing all of this? Why are you being nice to me? I'm guessing you have your own reasons for wanting me to have these babies…which I really, really don't want to take into consideration right now…and that whatever it is you have planned would be the reason you're willing to fight Wolfram & Hart to keep them, but why are you treating me like this?" She asked, staring into those eyes and trying to see beyond the familiar blue, to speak to what was inside and not to the face of the man she'd never gotten enough time with.

He sighed and took her hand in his, leading her over to a couch on the balcony and motioning for her to sit beside him. She did so hesitantly, unsure of the look in his eyes or the way he had that same thoughtful expression that Doyle always got when he was trying to find the right words to say.

"Would you really rather I was slapping you around, roughing you up?" He asked quietly, seriously, all joking aside as he studied her eyes. Disturbingly he was asking her for instruction on what path to take. It gave her chills to see that he was waiting for her response, his body tense as if all it would take would be a single nod from her and he'd willingly fly off the handle.

"I'm…no…" She whispered, shaking her head firmly and looking down at the way he was holding her hand in his. "It's just making this really confusing. You're not Doyle…but you're treating me like you are and I don't understand."

He stared at her for a moment, thoughts racing in his mind, baffling as they had been since the first mention of her being harmed. "I'm in love with you, Cordelia." He said and gave a smile as right on cue she pulled her hand away and turned to look him in the eyes.

"No…" She said with a bitter laugh as her eyes welled up. "You aren't, Doyle was." She insisted in a weak voice. "You can't love anyone."

He leaned back against the arm of the couch, crossing his hands over his chest and studying her. "You know what I am, right? Tell me."

"Evil." She said quickly as if that was all the explanation needed.

"And what might that be, exactly? Evil…all by itself…not an evil person or an evil being, just tell me what evil is." He instructed.

Cordelia opened her mouth as if that would be no trouble at all, but then frowned when she realized she didn't know – couldn't find a definition in her mind that didn't involve a person or event to give as an example.

"Do you want me to explain it to you?" He asked softly, the way he was speaking to her in such a patient manner tugged at her heartstrings and she nodded. "You're thinking of beings and people you've known in your life and their actions because that's the only type of evil that's meant to exist…and they're each so different, yeah? Each is its own type and degree; you need to find the common traits, what it is that makes your soul instinctively look at someone and their actions and say 'evil' when you're in their presence."

He reached over to the table behind them, grabbing the bowl of fruit and setting it on the ground between them, offering her a strawberry before taking one for himself.

"If I were to define it, just boil it all down to its simplest explanation it would be this: evil is the self-serving motivation to fulfill ones own desires with no regard to anything that stands between them and their goal." He waited for the questions to start but surprisingly she seemed to have taken it all in on his first attempt. "Makes sense?" He asked.

"Yeah…" She breathed, giving him an impressed nod. "It actually does."

He smiled and took a bite of the strawberry, happy with his host's teaching abilities. "So by understanding that, keeping in mind that evil is simply the motivation and not the desire itself it becomes clearer. You define the degree of evil by what exactly the individual is willing to do to get what they want, how many people they'd hurt or kill in the pursuit, therefore how strong that motivation is would translate into how strong the evil must be. Evil changes depending on the desires of the individual, whether they crave murder or rape, money or the eradication of an entire religious sect – it's all evil, all of it, but it is shaped to fit the desires of the host." He tilted his head to the side and smiled at her. "Make me seem a bit less intimidating?"

Cordelia arched a skeptical brow. "I don't think I'd go that far."

"Fair enough." He laughed. "So Wolfram & Hart brought me, the motivation into this world and gave me my own consciousness. I was given this body to control and for the first time I was able to experience things for myself – but again, I'm not the desire. For a while I was trying out for myself what I'd been used for in the past by so many, learning the rush of taking a life, the pleasure of hearing an agonized scream or plea for mercy…"

Cordelia started inching away from him and he sighed.

"But it was all empty, pointless; I came to find you because that was what I was told my purpose was supposed to be in this world – but that's when things really started getting confusing. It had been simpler before then, I reacted to the thoughts of those around me – used their desires to gauge what my own should be. Do you remember when…?" He trailed off, recalling her earlier statement. "You said you can't forget what I did to you, so yeah…you do…well I wanted to get pleasure from your pain and I did, I know that's not what you want to hear but it was still a rush…"

Cordelia glared over at him in disbelief. "Wow, way to win me over." She said in stifled outrage.

"Hey, this isn't sugar coated, princess – I'm telling you the truth here. I thought the pleasure I got was stemming from the fact that it was unwanted or that you were fighting me off…but I found out something strange in the hollow feelings I got afterward. This body – these memories – they're still Doyle." He said and watched her look over at him worriedly. "His soul is gone but this is still him, you see Wolfram & Hart made a mistake – a big mistake. They marked me to prevent me from experiencing feelings of guilt or remorse…but the memories – Doyle's memories – were left in tact for use against you and Angel. And it was there that I found exactly what I was lacking…desire."

Cordelia stared at him in surprise, starting to see what he was saying.

He sat up quickly, excited to explain to her the epiphany that had come to him. "See it wasn't when I was hurting you that I felt the greatest pleasure, it was when you were touching me because you wanted to. When it was over and the love was gone from your eyes, when you were looking at me with such hatred things started getting hazy, I started planning ways to keep you with me long enough to make you love me again, I grew restless at the prospect of never reaching that goal, desperate even. And then you stood between me and Angel, ready to fight for me – you looked at me and told me you loved me even after you knew there was evil inside, that I wasn't the same Doyle you knew before and I felt it, something deep inside of this body reacting to you. I didn't understand it, tried to ignore it for a while…but when they told me that they were planning to kill you…to take the babies away from us both…something inside just snapped. I remembered your willingness to fight for me…and that feeling in my gut came back to make it all clear. I love you, and it's not the same as it was between the two of you but it's there, never left this body, just waited for me to discover it. In my hands the love is selfish, true enough; I want to make you smile because it makes me feel good. Doyle wanted you to smile because he wanted you to be happy. See? Different – but it's made things clear since I found it. It's you, Cordelia – you're the desire in this body. I found the purpose I was seeking. You're what the motivation is for, what I'm to be used for in Doyle. It's self-serving for me to kill if by doing so I keep you safe, to steal if it will make you happy, to fight to protect the children inside of you because they are ours – the desire for you is what shapes me…and as for how powerful that motivation is, what I'd do to accomplish those goals? There is and never will be purer or stronger evil in this world."

"Whoa…" She breathed, staring at him in shock for a moment before finally continuing. "Doyle was never this long-winded…you're giving me a headache; you do know that, right?" She asked and he laughed.

"Yes, but…" He said, watching her slowly and unsteadily reach out and take his hand.

"But you're also making a lot of sense." She confessed hesitantly and tried not to pull away or shake in fear when he leaned forward and kissed her gently.

He ran his hand through her hair, staring into her eyes deeply. "You asked me why I'm treating you like Doyle did, it's because despite the law firm's belief to the contrary I'm not capable of existing without an individual to shape me. I need him, maybe even as desperately as you do; if I'm here in this world I'm not just evil, I'm Doyle's evil, and I'm doing the best I can with what little I have of him, using his mind to try and figure out what I'm supposed to do."

She wasn't sure why she was crying again or why she wasn't trying to hide the tears that were falling down her cheeks. Maybe it was hearing him acknowledge that he needed Doyle which gave her a sense of hope. He almost sounded like he was grieving the soul that wasn't there to guide him.

He took a deep breath and caressed her cheek with his hand. "Princess, while I can't say I'm sorry for what I did to you because it would be a lie, I'm not able to feel remorse for it, I can tell you I've spent a great deal of time listening to the thoughts in this head trying to understand the concept of the regret I should be experiencing. I suppose I'm lucky, if you want to learn guilt the best place is in the mind of a man raised Irish Catholic…"

Cordelia tried not to laugh but Doyle had made so many jokes about his upbringing that she couldn't help it. He'd told her his church engrained the belief that: 'the best way to know if you're doing something sinful is to ask yourself whether it feels good – if it does you're going straight to hell for it'.

"Well that's something." She said with a smile. "At least you're trying to feel it." Despite herself she leaned forward, stretching out in front of him on the couch and letting him draw her up against his chest. "Doyle?" She began, not knowing what else to call him.

"Yes, love?" He said softly as he studied her long, slender fingers, running his thumb across the back of her impossibly soft hand and marveling yet again at how such simple things could cause so much pleasure in this mind and body.

"Are they really going to try and kill me and take the babies?" She whispered, her voice sounding small and fearful as she stared up at the stars.

His brow creased as her words cut him. Okay, so the feeling that question invoked was definitely not pleasure; it made him have to fight to keep the energy inside of him harnessed. It surprised him how difficult it was to speak suddenly, his voice sounding strained. "They'll try, princess. They won't come anywhere near succeeding though. Not with me and Angel – " He trailed off, again feeling that strange sensation when it came to the vampire.

Cordelia looked up at him, eyeing him curiously. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"It's just…there's this feeling in the pit of my stomach when I talk about…" He tried but words failed him again.

"You love Angel, too." She said with a grin.

"What?" He asked in panicked confusion, wracking the thoughts in this mind in search of any hint of homosexual tendencies he might have missed.

Cordelia laughed. "It's okay – he's your best friend, he cares about you and would fight to protect you, just like I would. You two would of course never say that you love each other, not with that whole macho male thing, but you both do. When you talk to him how does it make you feel?" She asked, resting her chin on his chest and watching him think it through.

"I don't know…strange…it's not unpleasant. It feels like he understands things, like I don't need to say much and he gets it, ya know?" He explained. "And when he does understand it feels…good…like…"

"Like you have a friend who knows what you're going through?" She offered. "Caring about Angel is part of Doyle, too."

"Tossing him around like that felt good at first because he'd been touching you, then it just didn't anymore. The pleasure went away." He said, looking down and finding her studying the confusion in his face.

"That's when you would have felt the guilt you were talking about – you didn't feel 'good' anymore because you were hurting your friend." She told him and realized she was kind of enjoying this, explaining emotions so simply to him, helping him understand what he had never experienced before.

He let out a little 'huh' noise as he let her words sink in. So he really cared for this Angel guy…what a revolting development.

"But it felt good the whole time I was hurting Wesley." He said with a grin.

Cordelia smirked. "And it would probably be best if you didn't tell him that…like ever." She sighed and nuzzled closer to him. "God…I still can't believe I'm pregnant…" She whispered, biting her bottom lip and looking at him worriedly. "Do you think the babies will be evil since you are?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Can't say for sure, I'd imagine it's possible…though I doubt they will be. I may have been the one pulling the trigger but it's not my personal ammunition, darling." He said with a grin. "I will tell you this much, evil or no, between the two lookers that made'em they're sure to turn heads."

She grinned for a second until a thought occurred to her. "Do you think they'll get prickly-face?" She asked, her jaw dropping and eyes going wide in horror. "Do you think they'll get prickly face from the stress while I'm in labor? Oh my God that would suck." She whined.

"I doubt that's a risk, princess." He laughed. "Doyle's only half and they're just a quarter, it didn't present in this body till he was 21 so you should be safe from having to deliver shish-ka-babies." She arched a brow at that visual and he winked at her. "Come on, I know what'll distract ya from all this worryin about barbed-faced bundles of joy." He teased and she rolled her eyes as he stood and took her hand, leading her back into the suite and walking over to the phone. "Did ya get to look around?" He asked in an effort to remind her she hadn't and with that she was off, exploring the place at lightening speed while he made the call.

"Luvisutto, yeah – we're ready for her welcome gift now." He said. Cordelia popped out from one of the doorways at that point squealing that she'd found a swimming pool before continuing her exploration and he laughed.

"Uh-huh, and a bottle of the best scotch you can get your hands on at this hour." He said; shaking his head as she went scurrying by at the far end of the suite yelling something about there being a study and a 'yoga room', whatever the hell they'd need that for. Sounded to him like a way to fill up more space than a person could possibly use which, he thought with a smirk, was probably why Cordelia, the princess of excess, loved the idea so much.

"Right…well I'm pleased to hear that – she might get a midnight craving for some chocolate concoction but I'd be looking for something much harder, personally." He turned and tried not to laugh as Cordelia raced past him, apparently she'd kicked off her heels to make her pace easier to maintain.

"Really? Nooo…Macallan? 35 years? You've just made me a very happy man." Okay, excess in the form of a $7,000.00 bottle of whisky was not wasteful in his eyes.

"What's that?" He asked, pressing a hand to his ear and arching a brow hearing Cordelia ransacking the kitchen. "Yeah, why not – have'em bring it all up, she's had a long day. Uh huh…see you in a minute." He said, hanging up and heading in the direction of the ruckus. "Princess?" He called, a smirk on his face finding every cabinet open.

She popped up from behind the island and he laughed seeing her hands full of the snacks she'd procured. "What's my name?" She asked as she hopped up onto the counter.

He looked at her in confusion for a minute. "But I thought you liked 'princess'." He said in a tone bearing uncanny resemblance to a whine and she laughed.

"I do – I'm asking what 'Ms. Ryan's' first name is." She said, opening a box of chocolate teddy grahams as if there was gold hidden inside or something.

"I don't know…never told them our first names when I called in the reservations so I guess it's up to you." He told her, listening to the sounds of the elevator approaching their floor. "Oh this is gonna be good." He said, his grin telling her he was up to something.

When the spa staff entered the suite asking where to set up their table, armed to the teeth with dozens of pink roses for what they called the 'Pampered like a Princess' package Cordelia hugged him so tightly he worried she might break something. Good thing for those accelerated healing abilities.

She named them both in the stream of squeals that fell from her lips as she clapped and bounced in place. Selia and Shaughn – he couldn't help but smirk. She had the staff set up just inside the balcony doors so she could still see the ocean while receiving her massage and beauty treatments.

Doyle took a seat close by, inclining his head to Luvisutto as he ducked out of the suite – the man leaving at his request that only women be present for Cordelia's, sorry – Selia's pampering session. He drank a toast to the missing soul of his host, telling him he wished he could taste the whisky his body was downing.

An hour later during a thoroughly relaxed princess's sugar cane body scrub he found himself staring out at the moon and wondering, God help him, where Angel was in that moment.

Author's Note:

The Don CeSar is an actual resort – though it is located in St. Petersburg, FL – not CA. I've been there and found myself, like F. Scott Fitzgerald was, completely captivated by the place. It has been referred to as 'the pink palace' for its color and architecture since its creation by Irish immigrant Thomas Rowe in honor of the woman he loved back in the 1920s. If you'd like visuals do a Google image search for 'Don CeSar Resort', the place is stunning and has a great history to it.

Fun Fact #1:
The main archway to the hotel lobby entrance offers the following welcome,
"Come all ye who seek health and rest, for here they are abundant".
I figured that would provide Angel with an invitation ;)

Fun Fact #2
(and the reason for my inclusion of this resort in this story):

The Don CeSar was created by an Irish immigrant to America who became hopelessly enraptured with a beauty with long, dark hair and dark eyes hailing from a wealthy family. He was unable to win her hand and death separated the two – it never, however, ended his love and devotion to her. (Are we seeing any similarities here? LOL)

If you're interested, here is a brief history of the resort, exerts are from 'Florida's Ghostly Legends and Haunted Folklore'
by Greg Jenkins and 'Ghosts in the Pink Palace' by Tom Williams of the Naples News:

"Thomas Rowe, real estate mogul and builder, and Spanish opera singer Lucinda were players in a sad but captivating storybook romance. Most likely one of Florida's most cherished love stories, the legend of Thomas Rowe and Lucinda is as timeless as Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Indeed, Florida serves as the backdrop to one of the most tragically beautiful love stories known. The Don CeSar Resort was based on a dream that Rowe had while he was studying in Europe and enjoying an opera that revolved around a dashing hero named Don CeSar. As history tells us, while Thomas was enjoying William Vincent Wallace's opera Maritana, he fell in love with a beautiful Spanish diva named Lucinda. She was cast in the opera's lead role and became the subject of Thomas' love the moment he saw her."

Fun Fact #3:
The opera Maritana tells the tale of a raven-haired gypsy and her disheveled knight. *arches brow*
She is the subject of many a man's desire, including the King of Spain who is bewitched by her and throws a gold coin to her when he hears her sing…
but wealth is not enough to earn her love and it is the poor Don CeSar who wins her heart. (Familiar much?)

"From a shared love at first sight, Thomas Rowe and the sultry Lucinda were enamored. As their spirits rose, and their private romance bloomed, the two would-be lovers kept a watchful eye toward Lucinda's strict and unwavering parents. Lucinda was highborn, a member of the Spanish aristocracy, and her parent's plans had nothing to do with a lowly American who was only abroad for an English education. Thomas Rowe it seemed would never be allowed to capture the heart of the rare Spanish beauty. Unbeknownst to Lucinda's unwavering and opinionated parents, Thomas and Lucinda began a series of clandestine rendezvous. Whenever the London weather permitted and the Spanish parents were occupied, Thomas and Lucinda would meet under the moonlight at a closed courtyard with a beautiful fountain. As the bubbling water in the fountain rose, splashed, and coursed down the stones, Thomas and Lucinda fell in love. The overwhelmed young couple began their own version of the stylish opera, and called each other after the heroine and the hero of the Maritana. From the first moments at the fountain, Lucinda was 'Maritana' and Thomas Rowe was 'Don CeSar.' With every whispered breath, and every written love note, the en-vogue London opera became real, as Lucinda's 'Maritana' and Thomas Rowe's 'Don CeSar' acted upon the stage of life in their private cobbled court with the moonlit fountain. As the secret couple became even closer, and as the opera's last night drew near, Thomas and Lucinda made plans to meet after the final performance at the hidden courtyard. Consumed with their feelings toward one another, the two lovers arranged for a driver and a coach and were planning an escape from London. At Southampton, and the gateway to the Atlantic, the young couple had planned to marry and book a passage on the next ship to America.

When the final night of the performance arrived, Lucinda sent a letter to confirm the plan and the rendezvous, but when the last notes of the opera fell silent, Lucinda's parents were waiting in the wings and swept their daughter immediately back to Spain and into isolation. Some of the love letters the young couple exchanged had been intercepted by servants and with news of an elopement the overbearing elders acted upon impulse. The honor and virtue of a lady of Spain would be protected and the common American would return to the wilds of the former English colonies alone.

When the opera fell silent and Lucinda did not appear, Thomas Rowe waited by the fountain until the sunrise found him hopeless and heartbroken. After uncountable attempts to contact Lucinda, Thomas was rewarded only with years of returned and unopened letters. His life was never the same and although after his return to America and his achievements in business became legendary, he knew his life could never be complete without his beloved Lucinda.

With the passing of years a letter with an English postmark arrived and Thomas Rowe was once again heartbroken. Inside the envelope was a newspaper clipping announcing Lucinda's death. There was also a note addressed to: 'My beloved Don CeSar.' The note begged Thomas to forgive the Spanish parents and promised a continuing and undying love.

'We found each other before,' Lucinda wrote, 'and we shall do so again. This life is intermediate. I leave it without regret and travel to a place where the swing of the pendulum does not bring pain. Time is infinite. I will wait for you by our fountain ... to share our timeless love, our destiny is time. Forever, Maritana'."

"He would never forget his Lucinda; fueling the fires of his passions through all his days…He went on with life, got married, divorced and eventually built a real estate empire. When he found St. Petersburg he had a vision once again. It was while he was standing in the sand with the warm waters rushing over his feet that the memories of Lucinda and the opera he had seen years earlier passed through his mind. He recalled the story of the Spanish pirate, Don Cesar, and how he pined for his beloved, the sacrifice he would make for her, and finally, the happy ending that had always motivated him…"

The resort was built in Lucinda'shonor, a place designed for them to one day reunite and for all to come and marvel at its beauty. In 1940 Thomas Rowe collapsed in the lobby of the Don CeSar and died in his room a short time later.

"It should not be too much of a surprise to find out that the Don CeSar is haunted. After all, this hotel was built out of a dream, made with the passion of love lost, how could it not attract ghosts? Employees and guests alike have witnessed Thomas surveying the goings on in the hotel. In the hotel's lobby for instance, there stands a beautiful and accurate replica of the wishing fountain where Thomas and Lucinda would meet for their romantic interludes while in Europe. Many of the employees claim to see the two lovers walking together and holding hands from time to time, then simply fading into a mist, then to nothingness."

Sorry for the derailment – just wanted to share the reason why this place was so significant in my mind for Doyle and Cordelia. Oh, and while I was there I didn't see any magic or demons or vampires ;) just so we're clear for the creative license I take with the hotel in coming chapters. LOL

To read is fine,
To REVIEW is DIVINE. ;)