One of Lena's deliveries from London contained an envelope that she both wanted and dreaded, although she did her best to hide her reaction. It was the final step in her plan to demonstrate the extravagance toward Hal that she has spoken of; to demonstrate grace as she understood it, by giving him a gift that would require her to prepare for his needs and plan for his interests in a significant way.

The thought, energy, and attention that Lena paid to her plan required her to put Hal's interests ahead of her own frequently in the weeks leading up to the reveal of her gift, a focus that she resented at first. As she became more involved in it, however, she found herself enjoying her scheme and looking forward to its fruition. Lena remembered that her grandfather's suggestion was intended to help them both, and she began to see her attitude toward Hal changing as she planned his gift.

"Did you ever pick a day for your birthday?" she asked out of the blue the evening after the envelope arrived.

They were at the dining table with a pile of old sheets from the hotel; Hal cut the sheets into 1-inch strips and did his best to tolerate the lint and straggling threads that gradually covered his clothes. Lena sewed the ends together and wrapped the strips onto handmade shuttles for a weaving project she had in mind. She had built a simple rectangular frame to use as a loom and would make soft cotton rugs for her room. She believed the current term was 'upcycling' although finding a way to reuse worn items was a very old idea.

"September 8th," he replied.

She frowned. "That's not even the right season of the year. Wait, that was your recruitment day, wasn't it? The day you became a vampire? I mean your human birthday."

Alex was lying on the sofa, her head toward the dining room, flipping through a magazine. Tom was sitting at the other end of the sofa with her feet in his lap, ostensibly watching television but secretly planning to take off one of her boots when she wasn't paying attention. Another step in her tangibility.

"You don't know when your birthday is?" Alex called to Hal.

"Unless you were of noble or royal blood your birthday wasn't particularly noted," he said. "Time wasn't as strictly counted and regimented as it is now. Calendars and clocks and rotas are much more common in today's world."

"I don't know when mine is either," Lena said. "I picked a day at one time when I had family that wanted to celebrate it. I don't bother anymore."

"How old are you, anyway?" Alex asked.

Lena gave her standard response. "Older than dirt."

"No, really," Alex persisted.

"Yes, really. I probably predate some of the dirt around here," Lena said. "I haven't counted the years. It didn't seem important." She turned her attention back to Hal. "I think your birthday should be this Friday."

"Why?" He knew Lena was planning something; she had that too-casual-to-really-be-casual look on her face.

"Because that's when I'm taking you to London to celebrate it," she replied, a smile starting to spread across her face as she spoke.

"Excuse me?"

"Pinchas Zukerman is conducting and playing with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. I have tickets. We'll go to the concert and stay the night at Hotel 41; I have a suite there. We'll meet with some people from the hotel design business on Saturday, see if we can get any good ideas to bring back for the boutique hotel section of the Barry Grand. It'll be great."

"Who's Pinchas Zukerman?" Tom asked from the sofa. He had put the television on 'mute' in order to hear what was going on in the room.

"He is the pre-eminent violinist of the age, Tom," Hal answered. "He is a master of the instrument, and a respected conductor as well. I've never seen him perform, but I've heard his work and it is extraordinary." He looked at Lena. "I don't see how you can expect to take me to London, to a concert no less, and not have it end in a bloodbath. It is impossible."

"You are mistaken. I have already arranged for it to be quite possible. You'll see."

"I'm afraid that you overestimate your influence on me. In a crowd of people I will be overwhelmed by heartbeats and the sound of blood pumping through veins. One scraped shin, one paper cut in my vicinity and I'll turn. I won't be able to help myself." Hal was adamant that Lena forget her silly idea immediately.

"I have a private entrance to my suite at 41 and a private box at the Royal Albert Hall," she replied. "You won't be mingling with the masses, Hal, it will be just us. I've got it all worked out."

"And what happens when your well-laid plan goes awry and I sink my fangs into some poor bugger's throat?"

"Then I will Duck tape your mouth shut and heal the poor bugger," she replied calmly. "I'm not kidding, Hal. I have a new roll of Duck tape to bring along, just in case."

"Duck tape won't stop me," he said grimly.

"Clearly you've never worked with a true Duck tape master," she said. "Trust me, if it can fix solar panels on NASA spacecraft it can handle you."

Suddenly Alex squealed, "Tom, stop it! Oh god, that tickles, stop it, stop it!"

Alex was fighting to get her foot away from Tom, who was resolutely tickling it with a big grin on his face. Suddenly she froze, eyes locked on her foot, which was covered only by her tights. Where was her boot? As she thought the question, it appeared back on her foot, ruining Tom's fun. He didn't really mind, though. He had made his point and Hal and Lena applauded his efforts.

"Way to go, Tom!" Lena cheered. "You'll have her tangible yet."

Tom smiled confidently. "Yeah, I just have keep showin' her that she can do it, right Alex?"

"Yeah, Tom. Yeah." Alex was sitting up on the sofa, still staring at her feet. "What did you do, anyway?"

"I just took yer boot off, Alex, and set it on the floor. It disappeared, like. Then it came back just now. Did you make it do that?"

"I—I guess so. I just asked myself where it was and it showed up," Alex said. She shoved her foot in Tom's face. "Do it again!"

"Okay," he said, and he pulled her boot off again. It disappeared from his hand.

"The other one!" she stuck her other foot in his face and he pulled the boot off nonchalantly.

Alex clapped her hands like a child as she wriggled and flexed her toes. "Shite, Tom, I cannae believe you got those boots off me!"

"I reckon you could do it for yourself if you felt like it," Tom said. "I just did like Lena said and decided it would work if I tried it."

"No," Alex shook her head. "I don't think I can do it yet. I don't believe in it enough yet." As she spoke her boots reappeared on her feet.

"That's just crackers," Tom said. "If I can do it, so can you."

"I don't know Tom. I think I believe in you more than I believe in me," Alex said.

"That's okay, Alex, I'll believe in you for the both of us, for now." Tom smiled and Alex caught herself smiling back, lost in his big eyes. She didn't notice that he had quietly removed a boot until –

"Eeeeee! Tom, fuckin' stop or I'll kill you I swear, oh my god that tickles!"

Alex immediately developed enough tangibility to wail on Tom with her boot-clad other foot and both fists until he jumped up and ran off laughing and begging for mercy. She followed him, boot returning to her foot as she took a step, and chased him into the kitchen where she pinned him against the back door and dug into both of his sides with her fingers. She knew a thing or two about tickle wars and Tom wasn't about to be let off easy. Within a few minutes they were both collapsed on the kitchen floor laughing and panting and a truce was called.

Lena looked at Hal as they ran past. "Anything is possible," she said as she quietly continued winding her fabric strip on a shuttle. "He's playing Beethoven's Violin Concerto in D Major. And conducting Symphony #5. Not many chances to experience that kind of music."

"I just don't trust myself," Hal said.

"Then trust me," she replied. "Trust me."

# # #

Hal sat back in the passenger seat of Lena's Audi R8, eyes closed, a smile on his face. He was quite frankly thrilled with the relaxed confidence of her driving, as if the car's power and precision were controlled by thought as much as action on her part. Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 5 was rolling out of the speakers of the perfectly balanced audio system, a relaxing complement to his excitement. Hal, because of Lena's proximity, could simply enjoy it without counting beats or ticking off each individual instrument as it appeared in the composition. He was happy, nervous about the trip into the crowded city and worried about disappointing Lena, but most of all happy.

Hal turned his head to thank her once again for his birthday gift, but what he saw shocked him speechless. A woman of radiant beauty, with red-gold hair and rich brown eyes, met his look briefly before turning back to the road. He stared at her golden complexion and graceful lines, at the subtle strength in the curve of muscle contained within her figure. He had never seen a woman who came close to resembling her. He swallowed. "Lena?"

"Yes? Something wrong?" She caught the hesitation in his voice.

" You've…changed."

"Hmm?" she checked herself quickly in the rearview mirror. "Oh, yeah, sorry. This is the real me. You don't mind, do you?" She gave him a quick grin.

"Mind? You're exquisite!" Hal felt himself blush as he heard his voice squeak. How was that possible? He didn't blush, and he very seldom squeaked. "Why would you ever want to look like someone else?"

She laughed. "Thanks for the compliment. Being 'exquisite' can be distracting, though. Average-looking is much better for everyday wear."

"Of course, I can see how that could be true," Hal responded carefully, keeping his voice neutral. No more squeaking! He commanded himself to calm down. She was, after all, just a beautiful woman, and he had dealt with hundreds of beautiful women in his time. Of course, none of them glowed with life like Lena, or smelled quite as lovely, or smiled quite as fetchingly. None of them moved through the world with the grace of silk on the breeze, and none of them turned his insides upside down while muting his bloodlust to a faint whisper.

"I'm going to stay in my own form for the duration of the trip, if you don't mind. It'll be a nice treat for me." She arched an eyebrow at him. "I also have to make sure I'm up to your standards of female companionship. I don't want some other bird trying to steal you away from me."

Was she flirting with him? Hal briefly reviewed her last comment. Yes, she was flirting with him! He responded as casually as he could, arching his eyebrows right back at her. "No chance of that. You've got the tickets and the car keys." He gave her a smile that he hoped was suave and confident. She smiled back, then reached into her bag and handed him a money clip full of banknotes. He took it without thinking, then hesitated and looked at her quizzically.

"I know you like to lead," she said.

"I can't, this is too much, it isn't right," he stuttered, looking at the tasteful yet solid gold clip and neatly folded notes.

"Shut up birthday boy, it's part of your present. Besides, I hate handling gratuities and such."

"I would be happy to pay for the niceties," he said stiffly.

"Fine, then consider it a performance bonus if you won't take it as a gift."

"If I've earned this much bonus, then I am clearly being undervalued at work," Hal replied dryly as he flicked through the £5, £10, and £50 notes in his hand.

She laughed. "Feel free to bring that up at your next employee evaluation." With that, the discussion was closed.

Hal recognized that Lena, in spite of her offhand manner, was being considerate of his old-fashioned sensibilities. The man typically leads. She had taken it to heart and was doing everything she could to make this adventure a success for him. He pocketed his gift quietly, wondering again at the extent of her thoughtfulness toward him.

He had legal identification, an income, and money in the bank because of her, but he had no money in his pockets and had been vaguely uncomfortable about it. Hal felt vulnerable when he traveled without cash on hand; it reminded him of his youth and the constant scramble to survive. Somehow she had known how he would feel and had been prepared.

From that point on they chatted randomly about the hotel renovation, threw out ideas for the 'Barry Grand Grand Re-opening' and pointed out changes that had happened to the passing landscape over the past few centuries. Hal usually felt badly out of touch with current affairs but he knew more about recent British history and development than Lena did. As an American, she had seen little beyond London during her business trips to the UK.

Lena made her way through London traffic and reached the hotel without incident. She nodded to the parking attendant who let her into the private parking area at Hotel 41, assuming he would notify the manager that she was on the premises. As Lena pulled into her reserved parking space a porter appeared to offer his services. He stiffened slightly when he saw Hal.

"Good afternoon," Lena said to the porter. "This is my associate and guest, Hal Yorke."

"You're a vampire," the porter said, looking at Hal.

"I am," Hal agreed. "I am also a very good tipper." He smiled disarmingly at the porter as he spoke.

"In that case, may I get your bags, sir? My name is Hubert and I will be happy to assist you and the lady during your stay." The porter gave Hal a cheeky grin as he got their bags from the car and followed them into the hotel.

They stepped through the private entrance, designed for special guests who requested discretion, and headed toward the manager's office. Lena was slightly put off by the fact that Maryann wasn't there to greet them; surely the parking attendant had notified her of their arrival. As they entered the manager's reception area Hal and Lena were met by two young men wearing suits and name badges, apparently the welcoming committee in lieu of Maryann.

One of their greeters stared at Hal for a moment, then yelled, "Vampire!" and the reception area was quickly awash in hotel staff prepared to attack. Hal wondered if they trained for these events or if the staff was just very, very efficient. Several of them had stakes in hand, so clearly there was a readiness plan somewhere in the training manual and supplies in the closet, probably next to the first aid kit. He made a mental note to tell Tom about it, for use at the Barry Grand.

Hal assumed that Lena would speak to the hotel staff and calm the situation, but he didn't expect what happened next. He was suddenly shielded by two magnificent white wings and nearly blinded by blazing light that reflected off of her intricately engraved silver armor chased with gold as she manifested in a way that he had never seen.

"Touch him and die." Her rich contralto voice sent a tremor through the building; the power radiating from her caused the wall at Hal's back to hum. Their attackers each dropped to one knee in awe and terror, weapons forgotten. Hal pushed gently against one of Lena's wings and felt it yield easily to his touch. He brushed a hand along its luxuriously feathered length as he stepped out from behind her.

He touched her arm calmly.

In a flash she was back to her breathtaking human self. "Sorry. I get protective of my friends." She threw a frustrated look at the fawning people around them. "Get up, you idiots."

The manager's office door was flung open as Maryann entered hurriedly, buttoning her blazer as she rushed to meet them. "Lena! I'm so sorry to be late! Urgent business, demon, had to be stopped." She spoke in clipped abbreviation of what was probably a fascinating story as she pulled Lena into a light hug.

Lena turned to make the introductions. "Maryann, this is my friend…"

"Friend! But he's just a vampire!" One of the fiercer young men spat out a protest, unable to control himself.

Hal was slightly affronted at the notion that he was "just" a vampire. Pity that his position as an Old One wasn't recognized, but of course this wasn't the venue; or so he thought until Lena spoke.

"Just a vampire! Lord Henry Yorke, vampire Old One, scourge of Europe, destroyer of the Seraphin Nepos, is not JUST a vampire. Show some respect."

Maryann the hotel manager hesitated slightly, then extended her hand. "Lord Yorke…"

"Please, call me Hal," he smiled politely as he met her grasp.

"Hal, I'm Maryann. As Lena's guest you are welcome and will have every courtesy extended during your stay." Her voice didn't so much contain a welcome for Hal, as it did a command to all of her employees. He suspected that her commands were generally obeyed.

The angry young man wasn't through yet, however. "How can you call this creature your friend?" he asked Lena, clearly desperate to understand a situation that tore his worldview to bits.

"Remember to whom you are speaking." She took a step toward the young man and read his name badge. "Frederick," she said softly, "do not question me again if you value your life."

In her chilling voice Hal recognized a whisper of his own, when he was on the blood and on his throne as an Old One. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. No wonder Lena is so careful of her soul. He hoped, for her sake, that she was just putting on a show with this bold young man. He was reassured as she turned back to him with a wink.

Frederick, finished with his questions and barely able to hold his water at this point, slid back to the wall opposite and disappeared down a hallway as quickly and quietly as he could. The rest of the crowd dispersed and discreetly returned to their duties.

Hubert the trusty porter appeared with their bags. "Will you be going to your room now?" he asked.

"Yes, Hubert, we will," Lena replied as she moved to her private elevator and unlocked the door, which looked like every other door along the hallway. She and Hal stepped into the elevator with Hubert following.

"That was quite a suit you had on back there," Hal said quietly to Lena as the elevator ascended.

"Full dress uniform," she replied with a chuckle. "Good for parades and impressing children. Not designed for battle. I don't get it out very often."

"You didn't consider them a threat?" Hal asked, signifying the stake-wielding hotel employees.

She shook her head with a slight grimace. "No. Did you?"

He shook his head as well. "No. I don't fear when you are close, my lady."

"You would have been fine without me," she replied. Hal had been unruffled by the attack.

Hubert looked from one to the other of them in amazement. He didn't generally carry luggage for such powerful entities.

The elevator stopped on the 4th floor automatically and opened into Lena's private suite. They stepped into a large open living area, which had matching sofas facing each other, several other comfortable chairs, and a fireplace. There was an armoire tastefully concealing the television and sound system along one wall, with enough empty floor space for dancing. A table suitable for dining or meeting stood near the windows, and a kitchen area, including cabinets, a stovetop, microwave, and refrigerator took up a nearby corner. The suite included two bedrooms, each with its own dressing area and bathroom, and a third bathroom directly off the living area.

The floor was rich hardwood, the rugs were thick and luxurious, the colors throughout were cool blues and greens, with touches of pink and lavender. To Hal it felt more like a garden than a hotel room. There was even a small tiled fountain in one corner.

Lena directed them toward the bedrooms, relieving Hubert of her small overnight bag and pointing him toward the room that Hal would be using so he could take care of Hal's bags. She had brought very little with her, as she kept clothes and toiletries in her suite.

As Hal entered his bedroom he saw an envelope with his name on it on the bedside table. He opened it and pulled out a simple but expensive white linen-finish card with Happy Birthday in gold script. Hubert was attending to the business of hanging Hal's suit in the closet along with the clothes that were already there. Hal did a double-take. Whose clothes are in that closet? Whose room am I in? He felt a stab of jealousy, which he tried to shake off as he opened his card. He had no right to question Lena's life choices, especially considering his own history.

Hal smiled as he read Lena's birthday note. 'I have taken the liberty of having some clothes sent in for you. We will return the things that you don't like. Happy birthday, my lord.' So he wasn't borrowing someone else's space for the night.

Hal was so pleased to learn that those weren't another man's clothes hanging in the closet that he absently handed Hubert a £50 note as he left the room. Hal turned out to be an even better tipper than he had intended to be.

He went to the closet and looked through the suits, shirts, and trousers hanging there. A shoe rack held a row of shoes to match the clothes. Everything was top label, custom-tailored, expensive, the kind of clothes Lord Henry Yorke would insist on wearing. They put his off-the-rack suit to shame. He heard a knock at the open door. Lena was leaning against the door frame with a smile on her face.

"Do you know the movie Pretty Woman?" she asked. "A wealthy businessman picks up a prostitute and decides to keep her with him while he is in town for a week. He buys her a wardrobe suitable for the society in which he moves."

"Does it have the actress with a great deal of hair and a toothy smile?" Hal asked in turn. "It was a favorite of Pearl's, so yes, I know of it." He walked toward her as he spoke, stopping at the foot of the bed. "You don't need to pay for my favors, my lady. You have only to ask."

"I'm not turning you into a gigolo, Hal, I was just using the movie as a reference to explain the clothes. You are a proud man. You are staying in an exclusive hotel. You are attending a gala concert and sitting in a private box. You will want the wardrobe to match the society in which you are moving." She stepped out of his doorway and into the living area. "Hubert will be back with tea shortly, and a tailor will be here in an hour. You might want to try on a few things and decide what you're wearing tonight."

"It will help me to know what you're wearing," Hal replied as he followed her, stopping at the door of his room, "at least the color of your t-shirt." He teased her because he didn't dare speak honestly about how much her gifts meant to him. Lena was right; he had been concerned that he wouldn't present himself well enough to be her escort for the evening.

She laughed. "Smartass. I'm wearing a dress tonight. Probably green."

Hal moved back into his room, peeling off his shirt as he went. He was most certainly going to try on those clothes, if for no other reason than to see if she had judged his dimensions correctly. He stopped in front of the bureau and, out of curiosity, pulled open a drawer, then another, then another. The bureau was full of new clothes and ties, all of the finest quality, all in his size and all impeccably tasteful.

He stripped right there and put on new boxers and a vest, breathing a happy sigh at the feel of fine fabrics against his skin. It had been far too long; he had missed this part of being wealthy. He returned to the closet and began trying on suits. By the time tea arrived Hal had decided that Lena was paying much closer attention to him that she had let on, because he hadn't found a thing that didn't fit and that he didn't like. He realized that the tailor would have very little to do.

It had been easy for Lena to buy Hal clothes. She had simply become him again. A surreptitious middle-of-the-night visit to Bernard, who had his tailor waiting, 15 minutes to take a good set of measurements, and she was back home and nobody the wiser. After that it was just a matter of choosing what she thought Hal would like and a couple of return visits to the tailor for quick fittings. She had even remembered cufflinks for Hal's dress shirts.

Bernard's tailor came for the fitting and was properly introduced to his client. He was acquainted with supernaturals, although Hal was his first vampire client. Lena had the tailor and his assistant set up in the open space of the main living area where there was plenty of room. She smiled when they asked about a mirror for the fitting, and suggested that they could bring one from her room if they wished.

Lena thought it best to keep contact with the humans to a minimum, especially in the close confines of the dressing area and bedroom, so she served as Hal's personal aide. She assisted him with dressing as he had assisted her on his photo ID morning, taking greater care with the clothes than she typically would. She was quiet, considerate, and helpful, removing any traces of pride from her own demeanor in order to not damage Hal's pride as he accepted her gifts. The opportunity to see him in his underwear was a delightful reward for her efforts.

Hal stood quietly in each outfit as the tailor checked him over and nodded his satisfaction. The trousers had been left unhemmed on purpose, so as to get a precise length, but that required a minimum of contact. Hal kept Lena close to him, often holding her hand to stabilize himself. Sometimes she went to him, using the excuse of straightening a collar or smoothing a line of fabric to maintain proximity. To the humans Hal and Lena looked like an affectionate couple; they didn't realize that the two supernaturals were working together to keep them alive.

The tailor was quick and efficient, and his assistant hemmed and pressed the trousers quickly and expertly. It took them a minute to adjust to Hal's lack of reflection in the mirror, but they quickly stopped asking how he liked the look and concentrated on how the clothes felt and fit.

Hal chose his suit for the evening based on Lena's reaction when she saw him in it. Her eyes lit up and she smiled appreciatively. She approved of everything he wore, but this particular three-piece suit, midnight blue with a subtle grey pinstripe, was clearly her favorite. As he was dressing Hal noticed two small boxes on the bureau: her last gift. She had slipped it into his room somehow during the fitting. The small jewelry box held elegant platinum-and-diamond cuff links and a platinum tie bar. A second box held the understated platinum Rolex watch.

When it came to her own wardrobe Lena didn't care much for fashion fads and trends. She preferred classic styles and colors that suited her, whether they were en vogue or not, and she required comfort above all else. She also knew how to make an impression, and her goal for the evening was to keep Hal focused exclusively on her instead of the thousands of humans in the Royal Albert Hall. Consequently she took more care than usual when dressing.

She chose a dress made of natural, hand-woven silk crepe de chine, cut on the bias, which draped beautifully and moved with her like a second skin. It was simply styled, off the shoulder, cocktail length, with a nice flare in the skirt. It was the green of the emeralds she wore, of the sparks that fired in Hal's hazel eyes. It was her favorite color.

Lena's long hair was soft red with gold highlights that accentuated its natural waves and curls. When left alone it hung to the bottom of her shoulder blades. She parted it on the side and held it back from her face with a Tiffany emerald-and-diamond hair clip, exposing one ear and the graceful line of her neck and shoulder. She wore teardrop earrings that matched the pear-cut emerald centerpiece of her Tiffany emerald-and-diamond necklace. It rested just above her cleavage. Lena had taken the jewels to Louis Comfort Tiffany and commissioned the pieces in 1905, but had never worn them.

She wore a touch of makeup to accentuate her eyes and lips. She softened her skin with a scented lotion of her own creation, one she had developed in her youth. She had the experts at the Santa Maria Novella perfumery make her a new supply, her first in centuries.

She slid her feet into gold pumps and took a few turns around her room, making sure that she was steady on her feet and had just the right touch of sway in her step. She picked up her wrap and her clutch and took a deep breath to calm herself before leaving the privacy of her bedroom. This felt a lot like a date, and she hadn't been on a date, ever. The last time she was interested in a man this particular ritual of courtship hadn't been established yet. Not that she was interested in Hal, she just had to make sure that he was interested in her, for the safety of everyone else in the area. That's what she told herself, anyway.

Hal was waiting in the living room, standing rather than sitting so as not to wrinkle his suit. When Lena walked out of her room he went weak-kneed and staggered, catching himself against the back of a sofa. He was once again speechless and breathless at the sight of her. She held out her arms and turned slowly around.

"Do I meet with your approval, my lord?" she asked with a smile. Hal certainly met with her approval. He was a gorgeous man.

He could only nod in reply. He swallowed, breathed, and tried a smile. "Most definitely," he replied.

"Good. The car should be waiting. Shall we?" She held out a gold silk beaded wrap for Hal to place around her shoulders and he did so. He drew her hair out from under the wrap and watched it slip through his fingers like curling flames and spun gold as it settled into place on her back. He breathed in her scent, something delicate and new that was layered over her already alluring personal smell. Hal escorted her to the car like a gentleman, but he was lost in a fog of wonder and it was all rote.

They were driven to the concert hall and given entry in a side door away from the crowds. They were escorted to their private box, where their waiter for the evening delivered their light refreshments. Hal knew he was surrounded by thousands of people but he heard only Lena's heartbeat and his own matching it. He smelled only her intoxicating scent. He saw only her.

It was just the two of them, in a private box big enough to seat a dozen people; it was just the two of them as the lights dimmed and the music swelled and filled the hall with beauty and majesty. It was just the two of them holding hands and murmuring in each other's ears at particularly moving passages or masterful performances by members of the orchestra and by Zukerman himself.

They stayed in their box during intermission, drinking champagne from flutes and eating delicate canapés. Lena saw the curse begin to darken over Hal as he became aware of the milling crowd surrounding them in the hall, so she set down her champagne flute and rose to her feet, drawing him to her. She draped her arms around his neck and began humming in his ear, swaying gently. They danced quietly, feet barely moving in the enclosed space. It was all he needed to return to her.

"I don't suppose you will give me a birthday kiss?" he whispered into her ear.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to stop with just the one?" she questioned in turn. She had a point. He didn't pursue it further. The slip of silk and skin under his hands was more than enough to keep him focused on her.

"Never mind, my lady. You have demonstrated enough extravagance toward me already," he said.

"Apparently not, if you are still asking for more," she murmured with a wry smile.

"I am greedy and selfish. I will always ask for more."

"Just this once, you shall have it," she said as she slid a hand to the side of his face and offered him her lips for a kiss.

He touched them with his own hesitantly, gently, then fully, falling into the kiss and finding no way out. He didn't know how long it lasted. He felt her hands on his chest, softly pushing him away. The lights had dimmed in the concert hall. Intermission was over. He escorted Lena the two steps to her seat, his manners once again rote as he was still lost in the sensations stirred by her touch.

The kiss had been an experiment for Lena, a test of the strength of his curse. She had continued to guard herself against it, even though she knew it was weakening. She decided it was time to find out how much danger it still was to her. She accepted Hal's tentative, tender, deepening kiss and returned it in kind. It was wonderful, rich, hungry, and full of promise, the kiss of an experienced lover and a deeply sensual man. Buried deep within it, like the fishhook in the middle of the fisherman's bait, the curse looked for something to snag on and pull her in. Let it look, she thought. Only when the lights dimmed to signal the end of intermission did she pull back. The curse hadn't affected her.

The concert was a great success, one of Zukerman's best performances in years. The orchestra was his perfect partner, and there were well-deserved standing ovations for all solo performers at the end of the night. Lena absorbed the music and glowed in response to its beauty. Hal marveled at the music and at her.

They waited until most of the crowd had left the hall before accepting an escort to their car, again at a side entrance. Hal no longer wondered how Lena arranged for these things, he was just glad that he had agreed to trust her and come to London. He recognized her definition of grace in all that she was doing for him on his newly-declared birthday.