Chapter 7

Ste. Genevieve

Valeraine was instantly on her feet as soon as she'd seen the change in Nick's face. Casting away the Aristotle she'd been reading she sought to place her tiny hands on either side of the young immortal's smirking face.

"Nick! Hear me Nick! Focus on my voice!" Valeraine glanced about to see Micah nearby. "Get Amanda… quickly!" Then she continued to call Nick's name with a rising sense of urgency.

Moments later as Amanda came running, Valeraine stepped away from Nick and sighed as she turned to face the tall thin elder immortal. "He's fine now… but…" Valeraine motioned for them to step further away and then began to quietly speak.

"It was Nestor. For a moment he had full control… and he was very pleased… as if he had achieved something."

"What?" Amanda stared around at the nearly deserted convent garden. She'd instructed Micah to remain at the refectory… while she came to Valeraine's aid. The girl so seldom asked for her… Amanda had known it had to be something.

Nick seemed to shudder within the restraints of his chair as if whatever had possessed him had taken a great deal of his waning strength to cast off.

"I don't know!" Valeraine insisted. "But it was truly him! I still recall the expressions on his face as he taunted us before we let Nick kill him. It was a sense of triumph that he had found a way to beat us all… a way to win."

"You told me you thought he was better."

Valeraine stared at the ground and carefully drug the toe of one foot back and forth across the pebbled path. "I thought he was!" she said quietly and then met Amanda's dark eyes. "I truly thought he was better… but it seems Nestor had only stopped showing himself to me… aware that I did not listen to his pleas… aware that I would never be his pawn." Her shoulders seemed to sag with the weight of her words.

Amanda carefully hugged the girl toward her… aware that while Valeraine was not a child… she still lived in a child's body and that there were times that… even with all her years… Valeraine was still so very young. "Then what has changed?" Amanda murmured, "What has changed?"

Amanda paced back and forth about Sister Luke's office… her cell phone in her hands. "Come on MacLeod…" she snapped urgently, "Pick up!"

Finally he did. "MacLeod," came the strong baritone voice with the faintest trace of Scots accent. She could hear female laughter in the background and the soft sounds of music.

"Mac… it's Amanda."

Instantly the rather genial tone of the Highlander's voice changed. "What's happened?" He'd tried to get Amanda to stay in touch over the years, but generally he was the one to call her. When he'd pressed for her to call him occasionally… or leave the convent to meet him somewhere… she'd desisted. "You call… you come visit… that way… when I do call… You'll know there's a problem," she'd said.

As Amanda explained what had happened, Duncan sobered and motioned for his lady companion to shush as he walked out onto her balcony to stare at the moonlight and the stars on the ocean view at Cannes. Now… hearing of Nestor's expression… Duncan felt as if a cold hand was squeezing his throat. "Keep me apprised, Amanda. It's likely nothing, but I'll head back to Paris in the morning. I promise I'll stay in touch." With that he shut off the cell phone and placed his hands behind his back as he considered what he might now have to do.

He had no way to contact Methos but he did have an email address for Phillip, not that he picked up on it or answered often. Still, he'd need to contact the Greek if it was anything serious… but meanwhile… he needed to get to Paris. First he needed to check on Alisaunne, be certain she was safe, and then he could decide what next to do.

He hadn't complained when Methos had explained that he would vanish for awhile. "Eleanor and I need this time together, MacLeod. And Derrick needs time to grow up." Duncan had almost smiled at that thought. He knew Derrick was aware that somehow he had an immortal's memories. Duncan wondered if Methos and Ellie were aware of it yet. He hoped so… but the boy was still essentially a boy. So… he'd have to leave them out of his calculations. Still… if he really needed help… Phillip would come… even if he had to expose himself to the eyes of the Watchers… Phillip would come.

Duncan had not seen the Greek since that day they'd arranged for Nestor's death… no not death… transfer and imprisonment were the more accurate words… although the mortal creature using the name Nestor had certainly died. But through their occasional emails over the intervening years, Phillip and Duncan had begun to forge a friendship that just might mean something in years to come. Duncan had to admit… he sorely missed having immortal friends. Fitz was dead. Connor was dead. Richie was dead. Methos was unavailable, and Amanda, while loving and available, was focused on another life.

"One of us needs to watch him Duncan. I knew Nick. I could tell the difference… and I can make certain no one takes his head."

So he'd let her stay there… He'd visited. He'd called. He'd tried to get her away if only for a weekend. But for once in her long life, Amanda seemed to have truly found a purpose in life that did not involve self-indulgent behavior… or thievery. Duncan chuckled.

"Penny for your thoughts." Long silky arms surrounded him as Meaghann came up behind him to lay her head on his back. He could smell her musky and expensive perfume. Her fingers tugged at his shirt and slipped beneath it to tickle up and down his bare chest, resting finally on his crotch as if waiting for his response.

Duncan groaned and turned… kissing her fingers one by one and then the palms of her hands. "Sorry… darling… duty calls… a business emergency." He brushed her long red hair from her face and bent to kiss her.

She responded… flowing against him as if to conform herself entirely to his needs. Then she whispered as he moved his lips to her shoulder. "What kind of emergency could a wealthy playboy have?" Her hands pulled at his belt buckle and pushed against him, in an almost kneading motion.

With a moan, Duncan pulled back. "You have no idea!" he murmured and turned to leave… only to have her hands slip once more inside his shirt and this time inside his pants and caress him ever so seductively. Duncan closed his eyes and breathed heavily. Her silky hands invited him to stay… begged him to stay.

With an eager grin… Duncan turned once more toward Meaghann Reilly. He considered just concentrating on her needs for the moment and fully pleasing her… using his centuries of prowess to make certain to satisfy her and leave her sleeping so soundly that he could easily leave before dawn without a further distraction. But he really needed to go. He pushed her away slightly and regretfully. Meaghann refused to be pushed away and flowed against him once more… her eager mouth and tongue finding his. "Oh… what a lovely distraction she is," he thought as pulled the zipper of her dress down and curled his fingers around the thin spaghetti straps, pushing them off her shoulders so that the dress could be maneuvered off her voluptuous form. He still had time… there was no real hurry, after all.

At the same time, Meaghann's hands were already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants with an eagerness that Duncan found intoxicating. Already her cool fingers were caressing him, kneading him so that leaving was no longer even a remote possibility… at least not for while. Her tongue found his left ear and darted in and out and then she blew ever so softly so that the moistened ear hairs were all aquiver and he felt an electric thrill go through him.

With a rough laugh, Duncan suddenly gathered Meaghann into his arms and carried her to her bed. He ripped open his own shirt… heedless of the flying buttons and climbed onto her with an eagerness he had seldom felt in recent years.

Whatever it was… Nestor would just have to wait until morning. After all… the mad immortal wasn't going anywhere. He was as much a prisoner of his body as Duncan was of his own at the moment. But Duncan at least… was fully enjoying his captivity.

Outside in the darkness, a cigarette glowed momentarily from an inhaled breath… and then was flicked away and stepped on.