Beatrice scowled and looked around before gasping in pleasure. “Oh!”

It was a stone basement. Damp and gloomy. Stacked with odds and ends, it looked like the catch-all room for a very large, very old house. But along with old furniture, boxes, and chairs were a rather startling number of weapons mounted on one wall and a large mat that looked like it was used for training.

“You”—Carwyn marched down the stairs and went over to the mat—“need to beat something up. So let’s go. We haven’t fought in months and your husband isn’t around to kill me if I punch you, so have at it, my dear.”

Beatrice could have cried; she was so happy. “You’re the most awesome friend in the world, Carwyn!”

“I know. Stop gushing like a little girl and hit me already.”

She pounced.

Despite his larger size, Beatrice was much faster, so they were evenly matched as they fought. They kept it to hands, fists, and elbows, for the most part, and they laughed and joked as they both tried to beat each other within an inch of their immortal lives. It was exactly what she needed.

Three hours later, she was still not tired, but the soul-crushing tension had been partly relieved. They finally stopped, neither one really winning, and Carwyn leaned against the wall while Beatrice slumped against his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Happy to help.”

“I miss him so damn much.”

“You’re just like him, you know.”

“How do you mean?”

He patted her head. “Remember when Lorenzo took you the first time? Gio had to dance this dance for almost a month while you were gone. Remember that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d almost forgotten. That seems like so long ago.”

“I think we came down here every day while we were in Rome, and he did the exact same thing. We’d beat each other up just so he didn’t go mad. It was the only thing I could do for him.”

She blinked back tears. “You’re a damn good friend, you know that?”

“I do.” He put an arm around her and pulled her close. She wrapped her arm around his waist and let him hold her up for a little while. “He never gave me a cuddle afterward, though, so you’ve definitely got him beat in the ‘thank you’ department.”

She pinched his waist. “You need to find yourself a woman, Carwyn. If you don’t, I’ll be too tempted to run away with you.”

“I’ve been telling you for years what a catch I am.”

They laughed quietly, and Beatrice found that, for a few minutes, she could rest. They sat silent until she was distracted by a faint noise. A low rumble seemed to be coming from behind another door in the basement, and she sat up straight.

“What was that?”

“Hmm?” Carwyn sat up and looked around. “Oh, the noise. What day is it again?”

“It’s—what? What day is it? It’s Friday. Why?”

“Ah! They’re a bit early. Excellent.”

She scowled at him. “Who?”

Just then, she heard familiar voices behind the door. They were raised in irritation and she heard a scuffling sound before the door cracked open. Beatrice couldn’t contain her grin.

Gavin Wallace stumbled through the door. “I don’t care how you try to pretty it up, woman. It’s a strange and unnatural way to travel. The fact that we had to go underground is bad enough, but then water? Do you have any idea how—“

“Shut up, you whining Scot. Do you think I enjoyed having you carry me across the Channel? It’s not like you’re very practiced at the whole flying bit anyway. I’m surprised you didn’t drop me in the sea.”

Gavin and Deirdre continued to bicker at each other as Jean Desmarais swept into the room. Beatrice rose and rushed toward them. “What are you doing here? Why—“

“My Beatrice,” Jean grabbed her hand and kissed her cheek. “The reports do not do you justice. You are stunning, ma cherie.”

Deirdre grabbed her shoulders and embraced her. “We’re here to help, B. You’re looking well. How are you holding up?”

“I’m…” Stunned. Happy. Relieved. A smile broke across her face, and she turned to a very sour-looking Gavin.

“I can’t believe the red-headed demon pulled me into this. I’m not glad to be here. I’m positive this is going to end badly for me, and I’ve never liked Gio all that much to begin with. He’s an arrogant bastard, who has horrible taste in whiskey.” A reluctant smile quirked his lips. “He does, however, have rather fantastic taste in women. You’re looking well, Beatrice.”

“It’s good to see you, too, Gav.”

Gavin sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine. Now that we’re here, what kind of trouble are we in for?”

Carwyn stepped forward and slapped his hands together. “The best kind, of course. And the kind that needs your area of expertise.”

Gavin cocked an eyebrow. “Breaking and entering, then. Excellent.”

Chapter Fifteen

Castello Furio

June 2012

When he woke, Beatrice was sitting on the edge of the bed, playing with the ends of his hair, as she knew he loved. Giovanni blinked once.

“I’m dreaming.”

“Yes.”

He reached a hand up and let it ghost down her arm. “This is much better than most of the dreams I’ve been having lately.”