§ § § -- February 12, 1999

Rogan and Julie were having a candlelight dinner beside the pool at Julie's B&B when, to their amazement, H.R. wandered into view and paused to watch them. "Something you want, Da?" Rogan asked patiently.

H.R. sidled into the pool area and studied the romantic tableau. "Now what's this all about?" he asked curiously.

"Since you're here, I suppose we may as well tell you," Rogan said. "I'm engaged to be married to this lovely lass. This, by the way, is Julie MacNabb. You've often asked if Mum had MacNabb blood in her. That I don't know about, but you can rest assured that your grandchildren will."

"Nice to meet you," Julie said politely and smiled, although said smile was noticeably strained and involved only her lips. Her eyes remained wary.

"Married," H.R. repeated, as if he had never heard the word before. "So…when is this wondrous event to take place?"

"We don't know," said Rogan. "We've put everything else on hold until we find out what you plan to do to your cousin. I have to tell you, Da, I wasn't going to let you in on the wedding plans. The last thing we need is a sour face wishing harm on someone in the wedding party—or worse, on either Julie or me. Maybe we'll leave you out anyway."

"My only son, rejecting me," H.R. said, hiking an eyebrow. "You find me that repulsive, do you, Rogan? And what of your intended, there? I presume she feels the same."

"What do you plan to do to my godfather?" Julie asked point-blank. H.R. eyed her, and she waited for a long moment, till it became clear he had no intention of answering her. She looked sadly at Rogan. "I see what you mean."

"There must be other members of the Roarke clan somewhere on this planet," Rogan said to Julie, ignoring his father. "A lot of us, along with members of the other clans who came here with the Roarke family, were wiped out by various witchcraft pogroms through the centuries, but I can't quite believe that uncle and Da and I are all that remain. It would be a perfect time to have a family reunion, if they're out there. With the internet, it will make a search much easier." He sighed wistfully. "There was a time, many, many years ago, when the family was more extended and made a point of meeting at least once every ten years or thereabouts. I wish you could have seen the reunions, Julie lass. So many cheerful faces, so much laughter and love. A new family member was always a cause for celebration. I must have been maybe fifteen when I went with Da to my first one…there were many more of us in those days. It was the first time I met uncle, and he was easily the handsomest of them all. But hardly anyone could begrudge him that, since he was so good-natured, so welcoming. He always had a way of putting you at ease." He grinned at some recollection. "He made a point of getting to know me and asked me about my mother, and I found myself telling him everything. I even told him…" Rogan hesitated, then gathered both of Julie's hands in his and leaned over the table, as though to signal to the openly eavesdropping H.R. that this was something intensely private. "I told him about the way Mum spoke of Da…how she missed him, wished things could have been different so that they could have been together and I would have known the love of both my parents. Mum truly loved Da, and she'd have no other after they were separated. The last thing she said on her deathbed was his name."

Julie's eyes had filled with tears. "How beautiful…and how sad!"

"I've a painting somewhere of Mum. After we're married, I'll bring it here and we'll hang it," Rogan promised, squeezing her hands. "Take heart, sweet lass. If the unthinkable happens, we'll keep watch over Leslie. She'll need it."

Julie nodded, her tears spilling over, and Rogan dabbed them away with a napkin. Neither of them noticed that H.R. had disappeared. In fact, the older man had been rocked by Rogan's revelation about his mother. It had not been until Rogan had first come to him as a teenager that he had learned of Caitriona's death from tuberculosis, and the shock had almost unhinged him. Yet, through all the years since then, he'd somehow formulated and clung to the idea that she had grown indifferent to him. If Rogan was right, then his own cynicism was badly misplaced.

Why, he wondered, had he not tried to search for Caitriona after she'd vanished? The memories of their days together came back to him in an avalanche, swamping him to the point that he had to stop moving because they filled his mind's eye, making him turn inward and cease being aware of his surroundings. Theirs had been one of those love stories that is usually found nowadays only in romance novels—wild, sweet, joyous and unrestrained. He had discovered a whole new plane of existence in Caitriona's company, and the all-too-short time he'd had with her now seemed like a fragile dream that danced just beyond his reach, tantalizing him with promises that had gone forever unfulfilled. And all because she, perhaps fearing the transmission of her condition to him, had flitted from his life as suddenly as she'd come into it. He breathed her name into the gathering darkness over and over again, completely unaware he was even speaking, chasing those sweet memories that were now all that remained to him. Fates help him, how he missed her.

In time his mind cleared a little and he stood in the dark examining the revelations those memories had revealed to him. There seemed to be love everywhere on this island, and he had seen several vivid examples of it in the past two or three days. His own son, madly in love with Julie MacNabb and planning to marry at long last. Leslie, deeply in love with a man she couldn't have, denying herself a future with him yet again in the hope of saving the one person on earth she considered family. His cousin, reminiscing with reverence about the woman who had been his wife for a precious few days, finding joy in the rewards of parenthood to an orphan who clearly worshipped the ground he walked on. In his brief observations of the two together, he had gleaned the sense that each would willingly die for the other. He could see it, too, in Rogan and Julie's love for each other, and he could probably safely bet all he owned on the assumption that it was the same between Leslie and Christian.

There was a lot for him to think about. Somewhere along the way, he felt as if he'd lost a set of blinders that had been hindering him for decades. For a very long time he stood there considering what he'd seen and what his next move should be.

‡ ‡ ‡

A little before 11:30 that evening, there was a knock on the door. Leslie was in the study with Rogan and Julie, who had come to keep her company, and all three looked up in surprise at the sound. "I guess we're not the only ones up late," Julie said.

"Seems not. I'll see who it is," Rogan said and went to answer the summons. It turned out to be H.R., whose face was deliberately clean of all expression. "Ah, so it's you."

"That it is. I've come to ask a favor of you and Leslie," H.R. said, his voice as emotionless as his face. "Will you two accompany me to my meeting?"

Julie instantly gasped with alarm. "Rogan, you're not going, are you?"

Leslie stood up. "Where's it taking place?"

"At the cliff at Cabo de Varga," H.R. said. "I need witnesses, and the two of you are best suited to that."

Rogan nodded. "Very well, Da, we'll come," he said and turned to Julie. "Don't fret, my sweet lass. Leslie and I are in no danger. It's entirely between Da and Mephistopheles, and as he said, we're there only as witnesses. You hold down the fort here, in case uncle should wake for any reason, and I promise you we'll be back within an hour."

Julie looked unconvinced. "I hope you're right," she said uneasily. "Keep safe, Rogan, love…and you too, Leslie." Leslie offered a wan, spiritless smile before departing with Rogan and H.R.

Nobody said anything for the entire twenty-minute walk to the appointed meeting place, except for one point when Rogan asked, "Da, don't you think you're cutting it close? I did hear Mephistopheles say midnight."

H.R. only made a dismissive gesture. "I know what I'm doing," he said shortly, and that was the end of the discussion. They trudged on at the same deliberate pace.

By the time they reached the cliff, they had less than ten minutes left before H.R. had to deliver his decision. Mephistopheles was pacing the ground around the one tree, his steps fraught with impatience, and he shook his head in disgust when the threesome hove into view. "It took you long enough to get here!" he complained, then noticed Rogan and Leslie. "What's this all about?"

"I've brought witnesses," H.R. said, voice still devoid of inflection. "If there's any argument about what transpires here, they'll be able to provide accurate information."

"I note that one of them is Roarke's daughter," Mephistopheles said, scowling fiercely at him. "If you wanted a fair and impartial witness, you made about as wrong a choice as it's possible to make."

H.R. shook his head once or twice. "Not at all. I know precisely what I'm doing, and she and my son are ideal for the purpose. And just for the record, they are not included in the deal I'm making with you. You get one soul this night, and that's all."