THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT by JoLayne and Susan RATING: R CHARACTERS: Methos, Amanda, Joe, Rebecca, Lillian, Herbert, Elaine and James Wentworth, various real people SUMMARY: Eight months after Helter Skelter, Methos and Amanda tell Joe about the time they almost got married. THANKS: to Dea, for her sharp eye, comments, and encouragement, as well as all those who have given us great feedback on this series. Please continue! <g> ~~~~~ BORA BORA The tropical breeze was fragrant with the scent of the island's native flora. White fluffy clouds traversed lazily across the brilliant blue sky. Joe, reclined on a cushioned chair, breathed deeply and sighed. It was no small wonder that Methos had built a bolt-hole here. He let his eyes wander around his surroundings. The sprawling home was hardly the modest shack Methos had told him about over the years they'd known each other. Why was he surprised that the old man hadn't been entirely truthful? The side of the house that faced the ocean featured a series of French doors opened to allow the light and the aromatic breeze to fill the house. Amanda told him that local artisans handcrafted the furniture, with a nod to Methos' love of comfort. The walls were washed with a light cream hue and colorful paintings adorned the walls. Some of the paintings were priceless; some just pleased Methos' taste. Joe decided that of all the places Methos lived, this one reflected the true essence of who Methos was. "Want another drink, Joe?" Amanda called from the kitchen. "There's plenty left." "Keep pouring and I'll keep drinking," Joe grinned. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Amanda." "Now, Joe," she carried the nearly empty pitcher of rum spiked punch into the living room. "I have nothing but the most honorable intentions towards you." "Damn," Joe muttered as she refilled his glass.  Amanda moved over to where Methos was sprawled on the linen covered sofa, "You on the other hand...I can't say the same thing for you." Methos did his best to untie the fuchsia sarong that clung invitingly to her hips before she shifted out of his way. "A refill for you, too?" "I gotta keep up with Joe, I suppose." He took the pitcher away from her and chugged the remainder of the liquid. He proudly wiped the dribble of drink from his chin. Amanda grimaced when he let forth with a rather spectacular belch. "What?" He asked when she shook her head in disgust. "Five thousand years and you still have atrocious manners," Amanda pushed his feet from the sofa and sat down. "Amazing." "I'll have you know I have the best manners," he continued when Amanda and Joe raised collective eyebrows. "Besides, it's bad manners to point that out." "Whatever," Amanda replied.  Methos did his best feline stretch and soon his bare feet were resting in her lap. He winked saucily at her and she had no choice but to smile at him. She was so glad to be here with him like this that she didn't mind his quirky behavior. After their harrowing experience with the Watchers, seeing Methos so relaxed and rested was a balm to her soul. "So, what do you think, Joe?" Methos slumped deeper into his sprawl. He jerked his foot when Amanda ran her fingertips along the sole of his foot. "Stop that, Amanda." Joe didn't bother to open his eyes, "About?" "About my island retreat," Methos replied with his hands raised to point out his abode. "It's a damn sight better than being in Seacouver," Joe shuddered when he thought about how cold it must be in Seacouver at the moment. "I may just have to move here permanently." "Find your own island, buddy," Methos stood up and wobbled a little.  How many pitchers of booze had they drank this afternoon? One too many, he thought as he contemplated the distance between where he stood and the loo. Amanda giggled a little too loudly, so he gave her a soft nudge as he scooted between the narrow passage formed by the sofa and glass topped coffee table. "Watch it, old girl." Once Methos had made it safely to the bathroom, Amanda headed into the kitchen to make another pitcher of punch. "Joe, you're in charge of grilling tonight. I don't trust Methos to cook dinner, too much rum tonight. Besides, he'll whine that he had to cook last night." "Sure thing," Joe agreed. "I prefer not to eat my food burnt." "Then I say we move this party out onto the patio," Amanda handed him the pitcher. She loaded the meat and veggies, along with cooking spices and utensils, onto a rolling serving cart. "Shall we?" Methos returned from the bathroom to discover his friends had abandoned the living room. Amanda's signature buzz assured him they were still in the vicinity. The smell of cooking food confirmed his suspicions of them adjourning to the patio. He grabbed his glass from where he'd left it and let the smell of dinner guide him. He paused long enough to flip on the stereo on his way out. He nearly laughed at the scene of domestic tranquility that greeted him. Amanda puttered about setting the table and humming along to the music that floated from the cleverly concealed speakers. Joe presided over the grill like a master painter over his canvas. It was good to have friends, especially the kind that knew the real you and wanted nothing but your friendship in return. Well, maybe Amanda wanted more than his friendship he thought with a leer, but that was fine by him, too. He quietly watched them for several minutes before he let his presence be known. Of all the people Methos knew, Joe and Amanda were the ones he felt the most at ease around. With Amanda he had a long sustained friendship that brought with it a sense of ease and familiarity. She was the flame that drew him in and kept him warm. Joe was a man who knew what it was like to confront your dark side and come out barely clinging to your sanity. In Vietnam, Joe had done and seen things that were horrible and unfathomable. He had looked Death in the eye and didn't flinch. A man would have to live ten lifetimes to find friends like these, and Methos chuckled as he told himself that he had. Although he and MacLeod were good friends, Methos still had an uneasy notion that the young Scot hadn't totally accepted his past. He and Mac had argued about that very topic during their stay at the cabin and Methos had told him to come back in a couple millennia and they'd talk about it then. If Duncan didn't lose his head over his overgrown sense of honor, Methos had a feeling the Highlander would learn that lesson in time. He was a smart lad. "Smells good out here," Methos sniffed appreciatively.  "Sit down," Amanda pulled out a chair for him. "It's almost done." She dropped a quick kiss on his cheek as she took the platter from Joe and sat it on the table. Soon they were all situated around the table. Food was passed around and more drink was poured. Methos raised his full glass and cleared his throat. "To good friends!" "To good friends," Joe and Amanda echoed. After all the food was consumed with gusto and two more pitchers of punch were drained, Joe scooted his chair back from the table to get comfortable and let his food digest. He watched his companions flirt and tease as they cleared the dishes from the table. It was evident that they hadn't grown tired of each other's company in the months they had spent together alone on the island. The dark circles under Methos' eyes had vanished and his spare frame had put back some of the weight he'd lost from the stress of his ordeal. Amanda's contentment and happiness was clear from the expression on her face whenever she looked at her lover. Joe was glad that things seemed to be on track for them at last. "One last refill?" Methos held the pitcher over Joe's glass.  Joe shook his head. "Nope, I've had my fill." Methos shrugged his shoulders and emptied the contents into his glass. "More for me." "I'm getting too old for hangovers, buddy," Joe laughed. "I'm not as young as I used to be." "Neither am I," Methos reminded him sarcastically. Joe raised his middle finger in salute. "Some of us don't have immortal healing." Amanda returned from loading the dishwasher and plopped onto Methos' lap. "Methos, quit tormenting Joe. You know how young people can be about being teased." Silently, Joe repeated his salute from earlier. "No need to be crass." The CD player advanced to the next track and music reigned over the companionable silence that settled over the trio. Joe had been wondering about something Amanda had said and since everyone was feeling the effects of the day of drinking he decided he had nothing to lose. "So, Amanda, you never told me why you and the old man never got married." Amanda looked to Methos before she answered. She had learned her lesson about saying anything regarding Methos without his permission. He smiled and nodded his head. Joe had been an instrumental part of his rescue and recovery. He owed the Watcher this story. "Well, it began so simply," Amanda grinned. "I was in London, house-sitting for this Earl when-" Methos interrupted, "Don't let her fool you, she was a nanny for a bunch of dogs." "Joe asked me, not you," she silenced him with a glare. "I will tell it." Joe sat back and listened. He had a feeling he was about to hear a doozy of a story. Too bad he'd left his notebook in his room. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I was in London house-sitting for this Earl when -" ~~~~~ MARCH 30, 1912 LONDON The doorbell ringing after the sun went down was one thing. The immortal sensation that came when she walked down the wide, white marble stairs was another. But to look through the peephole-Excalibur sword in hand-to see Methos' distorted face was yet another thing all together. It had been at least four years since they had last seen each other and it wasn't until that moment that Amanda truly realized how much she had missed him. Dropping the sword, she let out a relieved whoop that it wasn't a challenging immortal as she yanked open the large ornately carved door and jumped into Methos' arms. She had to be careful lately as she was sure there could be many hostile factions after her, and not only her head. Methos held her tight and passionately kissed her neck as he spun her around on the porch. "How did you find me?" she asked when the kiss ended. "I always know exactly where you are." Methos' accented baritone made Amanda's heart melt upon hearing it again for the first time after the long separation. "You never cease to amaze me!" Amanda was set back on her feet. She covertly checked his hands for any wedding rings and searched his eyes for any signs that he was in another relationship. Once she determined all was clear, she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him soundly, as she knew he was all hers, for the moment at least. To her surprise, she saw Methos check out her ring fingers, and thought she saw a relieved grin. Soon, Amanda had enough of the cool spring breeze of England; the warmth manufactured by Methos wasn't enough to keep her out on the porch when there was a nice, soft bed she had left to answer the door. "There's a fire in my room," she murmured as she tried to lead him into the mansion. "When is there not?" Methos commented, hands and eyes still focused on her body. She took his hand and humphed a bit at his assumption that she was going to take him right to her bed and ravish him. Damn him for knowing her so well. Before she could get him into the house though, he stopped on the porch, telling her to hold on. "Fine, stay out here," Amanda grumbled. "If you want to freeze, go ahead, but I'm going inside where it's warm." Amanda walked into the foyer and wrapped her robe around her tighter to fight off the chill. Her bare feet were freezing on the marble floor. She picked up her sword and tucked it back in the folds of her coat in the closet and wondered what was taking Methos so long outside. "It's cold!" she yelled out the open door to encourage him to hurry up. Finally, Methos entered backwards, pulling a cart with a very large crate topped with a big red bow. The crate was so large that the door was barely big enough to allow it entrance. Amanda hadn't even noticed it, but then again, she never did notice anything but Methos when he returned to her after a long absence. "What in the world is that? A piano? I have never seen such a huge box," she happily said, rightly assuming it was for her. "You know, I don't live here and that doesn't look the least bit portable." "In this monstrosity of a home, do you have a comfortable chair anywhere in it?" Amanda laughed. "Our chair is with you, luv."  Methos smiled warmly and kissed her again. "And it is mighty comfortable." "You're taking good care of it?" "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. Is there a chair here?" Amanda pointed out the drawing room and preceded Methos and the box to turn on the lights in the room she hadn't used in ages. When it was just her and the three dogs, which lived better than most people, she didn't do a lot of entertaining or "drawing" in the drawing room. Rich homes still seemed so funny to Amanda, but boy, they sure beat hovels. Methos pushed the crate into the drawing room as Amanda sat on the floor in front of the fireplace to start it. When he saw what she was doing, he grimaced and told her that he would do it himself. She sat back and let him. "Are there any servants here?" he asked as he lit a match and touched it to the smaller pieces of kindling. "No, most of the staff went with the Earl to India. The rest were given vacation." "Why didn't you go to India with the Earl?" "He needs someone to take care of Louisa, Minnie and Richard." "Who?" Methos watched as the kindling began to catch the larger logs on fire. Amanda as a nanny? The thought of her tending anyone's children made Methos laugh. Maternal urges were something Amanda rarely had. Her last maternal urge had turned out badly-Kenny. "His dogs. They each have their own bedroom, if you can imagine." "I hate dogs." Methos sat alongside Amanda on the floor and watched as the flames steadily grew stronger. "Too eager too please, if you ask me." "I don't care for them either, but the money is good. Three squares a day and all I have to do is make sure they go outside once in a while, and they let me know when it is time for that. Otherwise, I have my time to myself." "Aren't you in love with the Earl? You looked pretty close at the King's coronation last year." Amanda started to chuckle, and it grew louder as her laughter escalated. She held her sides as she collapsed on her back rolling with full-fledged laughter. Methos leaned over her. "What is so funny?" "I'm a wonderful actress." "I know that, but what's so funny?" "The Earl is... shall I say... light in the loafers. He is in India with his lover, Norman. I was just there to look pretty and make an appearance with him. He asked me to look after his house and dogs until he returns in a month or so." Amanda sat up surprised when she realized all that Methos had said. "What do you mean ‘looked pretty close last year'?" "I saw you two together. You are a great actress," he said, chuckling. "So is he. I didn't get the feeling that you were anything but in love." "When did you see us?" Amanda wondered. She searched her memory trying to remember if she saw Methos that night. "When you were introduced at the party. I know it was a big room, but you didn't feel me?" "No." "I wasn't there long." Methos shut the screen in front of the fireplace and seemed tense. Amanda rose up and started to massage his shoulders. "Why didn't you let me know you were there? It was a terribly boring evening." Methos suddenly laid her back down on the rug and studied her face. She reached up to kiss him and smiled. But his stare was uncomfortable. "What?" she asked, a bit on edge. "You're not with anyone right now, right?" "No. Are you?" "No." She thought so, having read him so well over the past 1000 years, and waited. Nothing else came from Methos, except he continued his stare into her eyes. "Well..." Amanda tilted her head back to look at the crate. "Is that for me?" "Yes, it is," he said softly. Amanda pondered if he suddenly wondered if he could get out of gifting her with whatever it was. "Can I see what it is?" Methos took a deep breath and grinned, tightly. He took another one. She prodded him. "Well?" He stood up and offered his hand to her. She grasped it and he pulled her to her feet, then led her to the crate. "Yes. This is for you, I hope... you like it." Amanda inspected the crate and wondered how to go about opening it. Methos moved a chair close to it and said, "That is why I asked you for a chair." He helped her step on it and she pulled the bow and the ribbon unfolded and fluttered to the floor. She lifted the top and saw shredded newspaper and the top of another wrapped box. Suddenly, Methos pulled down the side of the crate and she had access to the next box. After pulling that ribbon, she opened the lid to see more shredded newspaper, and another box. She commented, "This could go on all night." Methos offered his hand and helped her from the chair and steered her to sit on it. He took that box from the bigger one and set it before her. She could see that he was taking deep breaths and wondered if there was something living inside, something that could snap her hand off or something. "You're acting very strange." "Just open the box," Methos encouraged.  She opened that one while looking at Methos, knowing that there was probably another wrapped package inside. She looked to see her guess was correct. "This is going to go on all night, isn't it?" "Just open it," Methos said, handing it to her and situating himself between her legs. Amanda started to melt as Methos started nuzzling her ear and lightly licking her lobe. Amanda turned to him and said, "Do you want me to open the box, or do you want my mind to be elsewhere?" Methos sat straight and excitedly rubbed his hands together. "Open the box," he said with a somewhat forced smile. "Everything's an adventure with you, Methos," Amanda said shaking her head. "Is this the last one?" "Maybe." "I take that as a no." She opened the next box, and sure enough, there was a small wrapped gift inside. From the diminutive size of it, she could only think it was one thing, and the other boxes were his attempt at camouflaging what his true gift was. But it was ridiculous! He wouldn't... he couldn't be serious... Since her hands were shaking as she held the small package with gold paper wrapping, he smiled and kissed her fingers. He grasped the ribbon and pulled, the gold paper fell away to reveal a small black velvet box. Even after doing this sixty-six times in his life, it never became easier. He sensed that his uneasiness was because this was the absolute first time in five thousand years that he was on his knees with a ring in a box before an immortal. Sure, he may have lost his mind, but the last months with the feeling that Amanda was ready and he wanted her for himself was too strong. He could hardly think of anything else but to make Amanda his bride. He took a last deep cleansing breath and opened the box, took in the sight of the five-carat diamond set on a platinum band, then said hurriedly, "Amanda. It is time. I want to marry you." When she just stared back at him in total disbelief, he asked, "Well, what do you say, Amanda?" His eyes refused to look away from hers. "Will you be my wife?" Flabbergasted and overwhelmed, Amanda cradled the small box carefully in her hand. The diamond twinkled brightly on its platinum band. She had never expected to hear a marriage proposal come from his lips. Secretly, she had hoped he felt this way about her, but now that he actually said the words, she was rendered almost speechless. "I don't know what to say," Amanda's whispered reply was barely audible. "I'm sure that's a first," Methos smiled.  When he noticed that Amanda hadn't returned his smile, he felt his stomach turn over. He thought she would be happier than this; maybe he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. He'd told Rebecca what he was planning. Before he bought the ring, he questioned their mutual friend about Amanda's reaction; Rebecca had assured him that Amanda would be overjoyed. Overjoyed was not the emotion Amanda displayed right now. Methos grimaced as he stood up and walked over to the liquor table. He poured himself a generous splash of brandy and finished it in one gulp. With a deep sigh, he refilled his glass and poured one for the still silent woman. "Here." He handed her the glass. "You look like you could use this." "Thank you," she replied. She sipped the brandy as she clutched the small box.  A rare awkward silence settled over them. Methos rested his arm on the fireplace mantel and stared into the flames. I've gone and muddled this up. Instead of opening herself up to me, she's closed herself off. He rubbed his hands across his eyes. Why did I have to rock the boat? I should've just left things well enough alone. In the many years he'd known Amanda, he'd never seen her so quiet. Surely, if she were upset or mad about his proposal, she would have let him know by now. Unable to take her silence any longer, he finally asked, "You did hear me ask you to marry me, didn't you?" Amanda nodded. "And?" Methos' voice was strained. "Tell me something, anything." "Is this a joke?" Amanda finally asked. Her eyes were focused on her hands.  "Would I joke about something like this, Amanda?" Methos turned to face her.  "Yes, no, maybe," she answered. "If you are, I don't find it very funny." Methos knelt down in front of her. "Why would you think I'm joking, luv?" "You've never married another immortal," she looked at him at last. "You've always swore that it was something you would never do. You were always adamant that I should never expect it." Methos grinned. "You are not just another immortal." Amanda snapped her fingers a relieved smile crept across her lips. "I get it; you need someone to pretend to be your wife, right? You did admit I was a good actress. That has to be it." She stood up and stared at him. Her relieved smile slowly faded as her initial confusion, then reason seeped into anger. "I can't believe you toyed with me in such a way! What nerve!!" Methos groaned. This was not going as he'd planned. Instead of being thrilled, Amanda was highly perturbed. He knew he had to do something quick or he'd be out on the street sans Amanda or the ring, and worse yet, would have ruined their friendship. He grabbed her as she passed him out of the room. Without hesitating, he swept her up into his arms and settled them both in on the settee. Amanda struggled in vain against his tight hold while on his lap. "Let go of me, you ass!" she yelled. "I swear I'll scream!" "You are already screaming, Amanda," he told her patiently. "I will not let you go until you calm down." "Oh, really?"  "Really." Amanda smiled her sweetest smile and ceased her struggles. Methos loosened his grip on her thinking cooler heads had finally prevailed. It was his turn to be stunned when he felt her elbow slam into his rib cage. While he was trying to catch his breath, Amanda launched herself from his lap and ran out of the drawing room towards the sweeping staircase. "Gods!! Why do you have to be so bloody difficult?!"  His booming voice make her run even faster towards the marble stairs. He followed her, and almost caught her arm as she made her way upstairs when he tripped over something in the foyer. Amanda got away from him as Methos landed in a sprawling heap on the hard marble floor. He felt something wet against his cheek; he opened one eye to discover himself nose to nose with a small brown dog. Hearing all the commotion in the drawing room, the male Cairn terrier had come out of hiding to investigate, causing Methos to trip over it. "How the mighty have fallen," Amanda laughed from her position at the top of the staircase. "The all wise and knowing Methos brought down by a little bitty dog!" Methos growled at the dog, which nearly wet the floor as it went scurrying into the nether regions of the mansion. "Amanda, come down here so we can talk." "No!" Amanda leaned over the railing. "You cannot make me." She stalked toward her bedroom. "AMANDA! I've never been more serious in my life! Get your bony arse down here right this minute!" Amanda whirled around, ready to scream some more, but saw that Methos was still on the stairs, actually bleeding from his forehead. Richard, the Irish Setter, appeared and started licking Methos' forehead. Methos grabbed the dog by the back of the neck and easily lifted him up to stare into his eyes. "Let me tell you this once," he growled at the dog. "You are to disappear. You will not bark early in the morning. If you dare lick any part of me or come within ten feet of me again, I make myself a pair of doggie gloves. Understand?" As Amanda made her way down the steps, she could see that Richard's normally wide, innocent eyes now looked wide from fright. As soon as Methos sat Richard back down on the steps, the dog ran for dear life up the stairs to his room, his claws pitter-pattering across the marble. Minnie, the Corgi who was hiding under the round table in the center of the foyer that held a marble Rodin statue, charged to the kitchen. Methos took out a handkerchief and dabbed the blood from his forehead. Amanda asked cautiously, "Did you bump your head?" Since the healing had taken care of the cut, Methos put the handkerchief back in the inside pocket of his suit coat, and stood. He brushed himself off and looked pretty dashing wearing that black tuxedo, arm leaning on the rail, one foot casually leaning over the other. "Are you going to stop annoying me and give me an answer?" "I don't mean to ‘annoy' you, Methos. I was taken by surprise. I mean, you cannot be serious." "I can be, and I am." Methos took a deep breath and said, "This isn't easy for me. You're immortal. There are things you do that still concern me, but..." "What? Concern you? What do I do?" He didn't want to get into it all now. He needed her answer. The rest of his plans hinged on the answer she gave to his proposal. "I missed you. I saw you with the Earl, who is young, rich, and also a very good actor, so it seems." Methos slowly started the smile. "I was jealous. I came here to fight for you." By this time, he was chuckling. As silly as that sounded, it was exactly what he felt. Amanda slapped his arm, wondering what was so funny. But, it was a ludicrous prospect. The visual of Methos and the Earl dueling over the honor of her hand made Amanda laugh as well. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Methos, and leaned her head against his as they shared a laugh. "You still haven't answered me." "I know." She still had the ring box in her hand, and gazed at it as she held it behind Methos' shoulder. she opened the box; once again the simple beauty of the solitaire marquis cut diamond catching the light against black velvet took her aback. "This is totally serious?" "Yes." "You aren't going to tell me in the morning that it was a ruse of some kind for some reason I can't even fathom?" "Would I be that nasty to you?" "You have been in the past." "I have?" "Yes." Methos was shocked, not having remembered taking Amanda for granted, or being pointedly mean, but he didn't want to focus on it now. He sincerely told her, as he cupped her face, "I am sorry. I may have said or done things that you took wrong or I didn't realize how they were interpreted. I love you, Amanda. I have missed you and I want to spend my life with you." "Pinch me," she whispered as tears ran down Amanda's face and Methos held her. Instead of pinching her, he lightly bit her ear and lifted her up and trekked up the stairs. "Which bedroom is yours?" "The last door on the left," Amanda said, putting the ring on her finger and holding her hand out to see how it looked. She was sure that it wasn't the most expensive or biggest diamond she had come across, but damn! It was the most beautiful ring in the world to her. Methos, Amanda securely in his arms, strode down the long carpeted hall to the bedroom she occupied. She giggled as he fumbled with the doorknob. He kissed her in appreciation when she twisted the porcelain knob allowing them entrance. Methos kicked the door shut with his foot and smiled as he carried Amanda over to the bed. She landed with a bounce on the rumpled bedding. "You still haven't answered me, Amanda." He yanked his tie from his collar. He tossed his jacket carelessly onto the floor. "I'm getting tired of repeating myself." "Maybe I need a little more convincing," Amanda's lips pouted prettily. "I want to know this is real." Methos patiently unfastened the row of buttons that held his shirt closed. "This is as real as it gets, darling." He couldn't help but notice that Amanda's eyes roamed hungrily over his exposed chest. "If you don't think I'm serious, kindly give me my ring back and we'll forget this ever happened." He let the shirt hang open allowing her to ogle him to her heart's content. "All right, so you're serious," Amanda allowed. Methos nodded his head. "Us married?" Again he nodded. "Forever?" "Forever." "That's an awfully long time for us, Methos." Amanda stared down at the ring and then back to him. "Do you think we should risk it?" "If I didn't, would I have asked you?" Methos sat down beside her. "I'm not a gambling man, Amanda. I only bet on sure things." Amanda smiled. "No one I've met compares to you." "I'd have to say the same thing about you." Methos settled back on the bed, his arms folded behind his head. "So you're saying yes, I assume?" "Yes!" Amanda trilled. She began to bounce excitedly on the bed, jostling Methos in the process. "We're getting married!" Suddenly, her bouncing stopped and she sobered. "I want to get married right away. There is so much to plan." The wheels began to whirl inside of Amanda's head. "Something grand for sure. Darius can perform the ceremony and Rebecca will be my maid of honor-" "Whoa! Slow down, Amanda." Methos pulled her down next to him. "There will be plenty of time for that." He slid over on top of her. "Right now I'm more interested in doing a bit of private celebrating." "Should we marry here in London, or maybe Paris?" Amanda questioned. "It would be more convenient for Darius if we trekked to Paris. Although, I'm sure the thought of us getting married would be enough to lure him off Holy Ground." She took a hurried breath. "I can't believe this!! You really know how to shock a girl, Methos. I wonder if I could get by with a white gown. Hell, who cares? If I want to marry in white, I will! It's my wedding." "Amanda, I said we can plan this later." He nibbled the tender spot below her earlobe. Amanda closed her eyes in contentment. "That's better." "Sorry, I'm just excited."  "Apology accepted," he replied huskily. "Now onto more important things." Methos shifted his weight to one side as his hand slid up Amanda's leg. The silk material of her gown puddled over his hand as it followed the journey his hand was making up her body. Her back arched as he removed the skimpy bit of material. The sight of Amanda's bare body elicited a purr from deep within his chest. Her body was made for sin and he was more than happy to be led into temptation. "Like what you see?" Amanda stretched languidly. She noted with great approval the way his eyes darkened with desire. Her hand slipped from his chest and came to rest on his hip. With practiced ease her finger tugged at his belt. "Now, what do you say we get rid of these?" "By all means," Methos agreed.  Between the two of them Methos' pants were discarded and flung to the other side of the room; his shirt swiftly followed suit. The chill of the air caused Methos to reach for the down comforter. After they were covered, they resumed their play. "Stop that, Methos!" Amanda gasped as Methos' lips traced their way from the base of her neck along her spine and back up to her ear. "I don't think you really mean that, do you?" Methos breathed softly into her ear. "I'll stop if you really want me to." Amanda ran her hand through his dark hair. "You know me better than that." His lengthy hair curled ever so slightly around her fingers. It had almost reached the point of needing a haircut; it was longer than he usually wore it in recent decades, but very attractive nonetheless. "You need a trim." "I'm a little busy right now," Methos sighed as his leg came to rest over Amanda. He groaned as she pressed closer to him. "Yes," Amanda cooed as she held his earlobe steady between her clenched teeth, while her tongue lightly fondled it. She exaggerated her exhale through her nose so that Methos' ear would tickle. To see Methos titillated was a sight to behold. His whole body seemed to react from the reddening of his cheeks to the goose bumps on his shoulder to the tensing of his stomach muscles to the reflective tightening of his grasp of hair on the back of her head. Then there was that low, soft rumble of his baritone that reverberated up his body as if it came from the base of his soul. Amanda was pleased Methos was so into her and what she was doing. Just being together was enough for him, with the promise of them coming together in the very near future. The diamond shone on her finger as she caressed his face. It was a powerful aphrodisiac to say the least. "Why Methos?" she thought aloud. After she said the words, she wondered why they were as important as she now realized. "Why do you want to get married?" "Because I love you," Methos said as he held her and gently rolled them over so his weight was once again upon her. "Don't you think it's about time?" "I thought it was about time a thousand years ago. Why now?" "It has to be sometime." "I've wanted this more than breath. I just don't want the rug to be pulled out from under me." Amanda also didn't want the fact that she was already married to Derek to get in the way of her happiness. Maybe Derek was deader than a doornail by now. She could be free as a bird... one never knows. A girl could only hope. Maybe being married in front of a man of the cloth, even their great friend Darius, would be a bad idea. She also didn't want any legalities getting in the way of her attachment to Methos. What if she finally tracked Derek down and killed him? Would that be so bad? She added it to her to-do list. "Oh!" Amanda reflectively cried out. "Yes, Methos! Right there." She tried to get her mind back to Methos' soft caresses to strategic areas, but her mind continued its frantic planning. Tracking down Derek could take a long time. Methos didn't have to know. She was bound to run into Derek at some point and they could sever their "vows" then, right? "Oh, yes," Amanda groaned as Methos played her like a violin. Like a maestro. No one ever found her pleasure point faster than Methos. God love him, even though he didn't believe in one God. Any God. Well, Amanda did, and took his name in vain again and again that evening. When Methos and Amanda were catching their breath, Amanda fell off Methos and rolled on the floor. She looked back at him, lying with his upper body and head hanging off the bed. "Well, that was a first." Methos held onto his head and moaned, "What's a first?" "I think you've made me seasick." She scooted back to him and kissed him. "You know I hate the sea, Amanda," Methos said, ornery. He twisted so they were chest to chest when as he slid off the bed and onto her prone body. He started kissing her shoulder as Amanda's mind raced. What a perfect solution! She needed to go to America soon, she could marry Methos in international waters, and they could honeymoon on a pleasure cruise, all at the same time. Killing two birds with two stones, so to speak. Damn, I'm good! "That's it!" "I know. You have sensitive shoulders." Methos said with a smile, "I may be immortal, but I can't go again right this minute." "No, not that." Amanda playfully slapped his shoulder. "The sea. We can get married at sea." "No way." "A captain of a ship can marry us. It will be quick, easy..." "Weren't you listening? I just said I don't like the sea," Methos tapped his fingers on her forehead. "I'm not getting on a boat in the near future. I just got off one to get here from France." "For heaven's sake, Methos, it's not like I'm asking you to cross the Atlantic in a rowboat. Ships are so wonderful nowadays. It's really a modern miracle how they can have such palaces at sea." "Palaces?" "Yes, the Mauritania, the Californian, a friend of mine just returned from America on the Olympic, which she said can put some royal palaces to shame." "Yeah, well, I've seen enough palaces in my day, Amanda." Methos rolled off of her and stood up and stretched. "I hate the sea." "But, Methos-" Amanda whined. She hated it when he was stubborn.  "Don't think your whining is going to help matters," Methos informed her. "I refuse to get on a boat unless it's absolutely necessary." Amanda yanked her robe off the floor and jerked it on as she stood to confront him. "You just said you got off of one from France. I know you were in America ten years ago." "A ship is the only way to get to England from there unless one wants to swim or can fly," he pointed out. "I need at least a decade between sea voyages. The discussion is over." He rummaged through a pile of discarded clothes in search of his pants. "I'm famished. I don't suppose you'd help me find something to eat." "You suppose right."  Methos glanced at Amanda standing statue still. Her lovely face was set in grim determination. When she got that look, he knew a storm was brewing. Amanda in a fit of anger was a force to be reckoned with; she fought ruthlessly. He should know, after all, he had taught her to fight with every bit of strength she had. "Let me guess," Methos stated the obvious, "you're mad."  Amanda clapped her hands in an exaggerated manner. "Bravo! You're smarter than you look." "My, my, the kitten has claws." Amanda's displays of anger no longer had the power to perturb him. Let her vent and rage and she'd be over it in no time. "Good one, luv." "You stroll in here and ask me to marry you," Amanda bit out. "Then you pooh-pooh my ideas. Damn it, Methos, I've waited so long for this and I can't have the wedding I want." "I never said you couldn't have the grand affair, I just want it to happen on dry land." "I want to be married at sea!"  "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride," Methos tried to pull a struggling Amanda into his arms. "Don't mock me, Methos." She fought against him. "I'm totally serious." The two of them stood in the heavy silence that had descended upon the room. Stubbornness was the strongest quality they shared. Many times over the years they'd butted heads, and on occasion they'd almost come to blows over each other's reluctance to compromise. "How about we get married by the sea?" Methos offered magnanimously. "I have a lovely little cottage by the Atlantic just up the coast." "No deal," Amanda refused to be swayed. "I want to be married at sea, not by it." "Why is it so important that we do it your way?" Methos let her go. "Because I've done more compromising with you over the years than you ever have with me. It's your turn to suck it up and make me happy if you truly want to marry me." "Gods! You are the most infuriating woman I've ever encountered!" "That says a lot." Amanda didn't bother to hide a smirk.  "You're not going to give up on this crazy idea, are you?" "Nope." She remained firm. "I promise you won't regret it."  "Of course I will," Methos mumbled and wondered again how she was able to talk him into doing things he'd rather not do. Amanda smiled seductively and snuggled in close to him. Ah, that was why. "All right," he finally said. "We'll get married on a damn boat." Amanda danced out of his arms and twirled around the room. "Thank you!!" Seeing her so excited, Methos had to admit it was worth getting on a boat. Amanda finally stopped her dancing and stood in front of her lover. After she'd kissed him thoroughly, she said, "Let's get dressed and go down and book passage." "But, Amanda, I'm famished," Methos said with a perfected pout.  "All right, fine. There are no servants but I suppose I can get you something. What do you want to eat?" Methos' smile became a leer as he gathered her into his arms. "A bit of my fiancé." Amanda smiled evilly. "I thought you said you couldn't go again." Methos rubbed against her thigh, "So, I lied." ~~~~~ A couple hours later, Amanda turned in her sleep, thereby waking Methos. The thought that he hadn't eaten anything substantial for over twenty hours was signaled by his protesting stomach. Careful not to wake Amanda, Methos slipped his arm out from under her neck and slid out of the bed. He silently tiptoed to the door, opened it, and snuck out. ~~~~~ The end of vacation was never a pleasant time, and Lillian was in a foul mood; every single one of her sixty years weighed heavily that early morning. She walked through the servant's entrance of the Earl's mansion and tried to shut the door, a trick since her hands were full. With a swift kick behind her, she accomplished it. She waddled to the butcher block in the middle of the kitchen and all her possessions fell out of her arms onto it-teabags, a filled satchel, her latest knitting project, and a bag of macaroons. Taking hold of the edge of the counter, she waited until she caught her breath, and then bent down to pet the new arrival, Minnie, the Earl's touchy Corgi. She almost fell on the floor when the Corgi bitch yelped and snapped its teeth at her. Lillian gave the dog a good swift kick, very much like she used on the door, and yelled with her finger pointed, "I have coats older than you, and I would looooove a Corgi stole, so shape up, you mangy mutt!" as it beat a hasty retreat from the kitchen post haste. Catching her breath and shaking out the finger that the dog nipped, Lillian recited every single bad word she never even dreamed of uttering most of her life, before her beloved Stanley died, and she gave a damn about what others thought of her. She laughed as she put on a kettle of water and fetched her teabags that had fallen on the floor. "I can converse with myself in any manner I deem fit. Damn spoiled dogs..." It was minutes later, when she had settled herself on a stool alongside the butcher block island and took a sip of oolong that her staid life took a turn for the unexpected. A man walked into the kitchen, naked as the day he was born. "Woo!" was all she could say, eyes agog, almost dropping her cup of tea. "Who in the bloody hell are you?" the man roared, turning to the side, covering his lower area. "I'm...," she replied, peering at him in case he wasn't successful covering his area, which he wasn't. In fact, after the initial shock of an unexpected person seemingly left him, he walked tall and proud to the stove, letting himself be displayed without shame, fear, or vanity. "... very pleased to make your acquaintance." The man took an apron from a hook on the wall next to the stove and tied it around his waist. "I was under the impression that Amanda was alone in this house." "The Earl is to be returning tomorrow and there is much to do." "He's not returning for another month," Methos informed her. "Now, how in the world would you know that?" Lillian sat her tea cup down, bored with the novelty of the half naked man in front of her. "I was to return from vacation on May first to oversee the house as it is readied for the Earl's return from India. Who are you? A burglar?" "It is April first, not May first." "It is not," Lillian argued. "I should know what day it is." Methos, also tired of the novelty of her, raised his voice to say, "You should, but clearly, you do not. It is April first." "Prove it," she defiantly said. No one was going to tell her that she made a horrible mistake and left her yearly visit with her older, also widowed, sister in Wales earlier than she needed to, no matter how handsome and well toned the man was. "I do not need to prove it." His voice raised an octave due to exasperation. "It is April first, ask any child and they would tell you the same thing." "That does not explain who you are and why you are au naturalle in the Earl's house." "I'm a friend of Amanda's." "Amanda?!" Lillian's face lit up and she actually clapped with excitement. "Amanda is still here? I was under the impression she would only be able to stay until April 28." "She's still here because it's April first." "Bugger off," Lillian said, and it felt good saying it. As she sat and stewed at having been so addled she didn't know what month it was, she worried about her sanity. Her sister was in the throes of forgetfulness, Lillian didn't want that to happen to her also. But, the writing was certainly on the wall. With her last utterance, the man turned and stalked out of the kitchen, and Lillian thought the view was astounding, as the apron didn't cover his well defined bum. "Very nice," she commented as she sipped her by now tepid tea. "Blimey, Amanda sure gets the good looking ones." ~~~~~ Methos had been vague about what had transpired downstairs when he returned to Amanda's bedroom. He had asked about a feeble woman, and that could only be Lillian. "Poor dear," Amanda said as shook her head at the tragedy of the woman's mind slowly ebbing away from her. "What did she say?" "Nothing substantial." Methos pulled on his pants and didn't take Amanda into his arms when she went up on her knees on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm starving, and have a lot to do," he said as he sat on the bed to put on his shoes. "You're leaving?" "You can explain to that woman downstairs about the Gregorian calendar. Its adoption is sweeping Europe. I'm going to do my thing and we can meet back here tonight." "What do you have to do?" "Check in on some old friends." "I'm an old friend." "You are in a class of your own." Methos smiled and kissed her nose. "Why don't you start to plan the big day?" "I'll try to wrangle a captain and book passage on his ship." A great groan escaped Methos, who asked again, "Why does it have to take place on board a ship?" "Because I said so," Amanda replied, not wanting any further discussion. This was going to be the perfect plan and Methos' fear of water wasn't going to spoil it. "What name are you going by nowadays?" "Roger Sothem." "What is it you do?" "I am an art dealer." Amanda smiled at him. "Really?" Methos tore his eyes from the mirror as he was adjusting his tie to tell her, "Yes. I have a gallery on the Left Bank." "Interesting." "How so?" "I just thought you were still in banking." "I still have an interest in a couple of them." She brightened, "Oh, so I can still brag that my fiancé is a banker?" "Whatever." Methos kissed her on his way to the door and handed her a card from his back pocket. "Oh, in case you want to swing by this afternoon, this is the address of my flat here in London." He reached into the breast pocket of his suit coat and handed her the key. "It's not a palace such as this, or a ship, but it is home." "And is it furnished with a certain chair?" "Speak of the devil, yes it is." Methos' smile was the last thing she saw before he disappeared out the door. She stared at the ring on her finger and wondered if he truly meant wanting to marry her. "Damn him to hell if he's joking," she swore as she got up to get dressed. ~~~~~ Amanda walked up the narrow steps to Methos' flat. She didn't feel an immortal buzz, but there was a loud noise emanating from inside. After she knocked, she waited, but no one answered. She used the key Methos had given her to open the door. To her surprise, she got a clear view of a man's naked rear end as soon as she walked into the living room. "OH!" Amanda gasped and spun around. Her hand went to her chest well aware this was not Methos' derriere; she'd know his anywhere. "Who in the bloody hell are you?" "Herbert, ma'am," came the man's equally flustered response. She darted her eyes back in time to see the old man, with his pants down around his ankles, grab the table runner to hold it in front of himself. Interestingly, the vase and candle holder that sat atop the table runner never faltered when he yanked it out. Amanda turned the Victrola down in order to hear the little old man say, "I am Monsieur Sothem's valet... I spilled tea on... I am terribly sorry, mademoiselle..." "HERBERT?" Amanda squealed when recognition hit her. The additional decade on the mortal man hadn't changed him that much; his hair was now completely white and there were a few more wrinkles on his face. The twinkle in his eye was still as bright as it had been when they met back in Colorado. "Amanda!" Herbert's face lit up. He dropped the table runner as he stepped forward to shake her hand. "I had no idea that you were also immortal," he said with a thick French accent. He didn't seem to notice that he was once again barelegged in front of her. All Amanda could do was thank God he was wearing a long white button down shirt. He pulled his soggy, tea stained pants up and buckled his belt. Amanda saw King Alfred's chair in the corner of the room. She sauntered over to lounge upon it for old time's sake. "Do fill me in on what you've been up to." "If you forgive me, Amanda, I should change my pants." "Oh, of course, please do. Do you know where Roger... Doc... is?" She didn't know how much Herbert knew of Methos' different aliases. In fact, she didn't know that the old Frenchman and Methos were still friends. Methos had gone by Doctor Benjamin in the ‘good old days' at the turn of the century. It was because of the Hole in the Wall's last ride that Methos had to again change his name and literally ‘get the hell out of Dodge'. "I was hoping to surprise him." "Well, you certainly surprised me." Amanda pulled the tickets from her purse and looked at the Frenchman. "Herbert, you are in for another surprise, my friend." "Oh?" "You are going to sail to America. What do you think about that?" "Moi?" "Yes. I purchased first class passage on the Oceanic, one of the premiere ships at sea, for Roger, myself and my maid-or a woman who is going to pose as my maid-and Roger needs someone to attend to him during the voyage. One cannot sail first class without an entourage," she informed him with a smile. "Oh, Amanda..." His gratitude was written all over his face as he gingerly took a ticket from her hand. "Amanda, I would love to sail to America. You are teasing, you cannot be serious." "I would not tease about a thing like that. So, you would agree to come with us?" "Oui!" "You can also be our witness when we get married." "He went and did it?" Herbert's eyes went straight for Amanda's hand and gasped when he saw the diamond. "He did it!" Amanda was smiling and nodding. With obvious delight, Herbert said, "We bet that he would chicken out. But he went and did it!" "What do you mean you had a bet? What kind of bet?" Herbert's words roused her curiosity. Was Methos playing some kind of game as she had suspected? "Tell me, Herbert." "Ah, do not fret, mademoiselle," Herbert clucked as he used a hand towel to blot the moisture from his pants. "Roger was so nervous about the proposal, I was certain he would be unable to go through with it." Herbert's wrinkled face lit up with his wicked smile. "I am an old man and every little bit of coin insures my continued survival." Amanda returned his smile. Despite his advanced age, Herbert was still a charmer. In her excitement of planning her wedding, Amanda had neglected to eat lunch. The rumblings of her empty stomach echoed loudly in the quiet flat. Efficiently, Herbert poured her a cup of tea and handed her a saucer full of scones. "Thank you, Herbert." Amanda accepted the refreshments with an embarrassed smile. "I seem to have forgotten to eat this afternoon." "Certainly," Herbert eyes twinkled. "Getting married has a way of doing that to a young lady." He slowly shook his head as he smiled at her. "You are immortal. You are a beautiful woman, Amanda. I am so glad Roger decided to settle down with you. All those women's hearts he has broken, now proposing to you..." Amanda choked on her last swallow of tea. Trying to recover her fading composure, she dabbed daintily at mouth with her linen napkin. When had Methos become a ladies' man and why did she feel so jealous? After all, she'd been seeing other men since they were last together, but Methos always tended to be a bit of a loner. When he did venture into the world of romance, he tended to settle on one woman not a flock, but then again he did have a wild streak. "Roger was seeing someone?" Amanda tried her best to sound nonchalant.  "Oh no, he is too busy with his work for that," Herbert explained. "Much to the dismay of several beautiful women." "Good, I mean, sounds just like him to be buried in work," Amanda covered her slip. "When do you expect Roger to return?" "What time is it now?" Herbert looked to the mantle clock. "Ah, four o'clock." Herbert stopped to do a bit of mental calculations. "He left around one. My guess is that he will be returning any moment now." He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Mon dieu, I must change my clothes, if you would excuse me?" "Of course, don't let me stand in your way," Amanda smiled. "I'll just wait for Roger to return." Amanda watched Herbert retreat deeper into Methos' flat. Once he was gone, she took the time to investigate the space that her oldest friend now occupied. As always, Methos had exquisite taste in the finer things in life. Her hand rested lightly on a cobalt blue egg etched with gold. Intrigued, she lifted the delicate object from its spot on the mahogany side table. On closer investigation, she noticed a small clasp and her fingers unlatched it. The beautiful egg opened to reveal a miniature painting of a snow-covered palace. What a stunning piece of art! Somehow she would convince Methos to give this beauty to her. Who was she trying to kid? Methos never parted with his belongings and she wasn't brave enough to steal from him. Reluctantly, she sat the egg back down on the table. The approaching sense of presence signaled Methos' return. Feeling like a child being caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Amanda hurried to find a seat before he entered the flat. Just as the door handle twisted, she missed the seat and plopped hard on the wooden arm. She winced as her bottom throbbed, and she situated herself onto the seat. "Amanda?" Methos questioned as he pushed open the door cautiously. "Is that you?" He knew Herbert wouldn't allow just anybody into his home, especially an immortal, though Herbert wouldn't know the difference. "Who were you expecting, the Queen of England?" Amanda huffed. She wished she could rub her sore bottom. "Of course it's me." "You're much more attractive than May." Methos shrugged out of his overcoat. "May? You're on a first name basis with Queen Mary, luv?"  "Isn't everyone?" Amanda saw the glimmer of shiny metal as he hung his coat on the hall rack. Methos never went anywhere unarmed, even if he wasn't carrying a sword. He stopped on his way to the liquor cabinet to kiss Amanda. "Where's Herbert?" Methos sipped his brandy in front of the fireplace.  Amanda left her chair and stood beside him. "He went to change his pants." "I don't think I want to know why," Methos laughed. "Since we're alone..." He ran his hand down her back to her bottom. Amanda winced when he caressed her still bruised behind. "What's the matter?" "Nothing." She wasn't about to confess her thoughts of theft to him and her subsequent leap into the chair and her bottom would heal soon. "Where have you been?" She steered the conversation away from her to him. "Here and there." He swallowed the last drink of brandy. "Tying up a few loose ends before we leave on that damn boat." "Speaking of boats, I booked us passage on the Oceanic." Amanda went to retrieve the tickets from the table she'd laid them on. She waved them in front of him. "Four tickets? We only need two, Amanda." "Well, never let it be said that you're always right." "Last I knew," Methos said as he sprawled lazily on the sofa. "You and I make two." Amanda rested her hands on her hips. "We're traveling first class." "And that means?" "We cannot travel first class without servants. It's simply not done."  "You're a snob, darling." "So be it." She took the seat next to him. "We'll look out of place if we don't. I thought blending in was your whole little obsession." Methos thought about her words. "You may have a point." "Thank you," she gloated. "I'll take Lillian." "The batty old lady from the Earl's house?" Methos groaned. "Yes. She doesn't have to be back at the Earl's for another month. She can take a return voyage and have a week to spare. You can take Herbert." Amanda continued on before Methos could protest further. "I adore Herbert. It's such a joy to see him again. I didn't know you were still friends with him." "How could I not? He thinks the sun rises and falls because I wish it," Methos commented. "Oh please, even Herbert isn't that gullible," Amanda said as she curled up next to him on the sofa. Methos was so cute when he was self-important, but she wanted to learn so much more about him and his life, now that they were finally going to share it, and she wanted the truth. "It's not often you stay friends with someone more than five years, except for Rebecca, Darius and me. Certainly not mortals. Just how did you two meet? You didn't tell me in America." ~~~~~ 1889 NEW ORLEANS Methos ducked just in time or the vase would have been permanently implanted in his cheek. The flowers and water flew in all directions as the vase crashed against the wall behind him. He straightened up with an exasperated glare. "Monique, calm down." "CALM DOWN? HOW CAN YOU TELL ME TO CALM DOWN? WHY SHOULD I CALM DOWN? I HATE YOU!" "Well, you'll get over it. It's just a temporary thing." Methos grabbed her arms before she could lob another figurine at him. "You don't hate me, you love me. That's your problem." "IT IS YOUR PROBLEM, YOU BASTARD!" she screamed, slapping him silly when she got an arm free. Methos trapped her in his arms again and flipped them back on the couch of their apartment in the heart of the French Quarter. He climbed over her, fighting off her hits, and planted a kiss on her. He growled with frustration when she clamped her teeth together, squeezing his lip so hard, she drew blood. "I'm sorry! Okay, I didn't mean to be late, I..." "You weren't just late, you didn't come at all!" Monique slapped him up side the head and tried to get up. Can I help it if the ride back from St. Louis took longer than expected? He knew she'd be upset, so Methos reached into his pocket and let her rise from the couch. "But now I am bearing gifts." Monique stood with her arms crossed under her ample breasts, foot tapping with anger, long curly black hair as wild as her mood, and waited. "What? What did you bring me?" she asked in her husky, sensual voice that was the reason Methos was taken with her in the first place. If he had known about her hot French temper, he may not have asked her for a drink exactly one year and fourteen hours before. He smiled, as jewelry always tranquilized her, and walked to her, with the pearl and diamond ring he had purchased for her on his pinkie. As soon as she saw it, she gasped, smiled, and reached for it. He snapped his hand closed and hid it from her behind his back. "Matthew," she cooed, reaching around him to get the ring. Methos took the opportunity to kiss her, she was a fabulous kisser, and finally allowed her to take his hand and retrieve the ring. As she slipped it on her own finger, he told her, "It wasn't my fault I missed our anniversary. If you would just listen before you rage, I would have explained that." Monique wrapped her arms around his neck and rubbed her pert nose against his. "You love me?" "I adore you," he slowly said, filling with a sudden rush of ecstasy as he moved her away from the window and to their bed. ~~~~~ 1912 Amanda cleared her throat and glared at him. "Excuse me? What the hell does that have to do with meeting Herbert?" "Nothing," Methos smiled easily. "I just like remembering Monique. She was a spit fire." Amanda, having lost all friendliness, rose off Methos' lap and tried to release herself from his handhold on her waist. "Would you please?" "Women," Methos muttered with glee, seeing her jealousy. "I was teasing. Monique had everything to do with Herbert. If you'd just settle down, I'll tell you all about it." Methos pulled Amanda back on his lap. As soon as they were properly sprawled, she said, "This had better be one great story, or I swear..." "You asked, I'm telling." "I could tell you about my lovers, you know." "I'm sure you could. How about husbands? Monique was my wife. My last wife." "I'll be your last wife." "Yes," Methos said contented and rubbed his nose against her neck. "Yes, you will." "You never mentioned Monique back then either," Amanda grumbled, stressing a bad French accent when she pronounced her ‘rival's' name. ~~~~~ 1889  NEW ORLEANS After Monique had accepted the ring, and showed Methos her appreciation, they immediately got into another argument. She wanted him to go to her best friend's for dinner; Methos refused. Not only was her friend a bossy idiot and had a terrible cook, but Monique's friend was married to an immortal that Methos had a run-in with two hundred years before. That was touchy enough, but add to that the fact that the immortal had a long memory, could carry a grudge and had lost his life savings, blaming it on Methos, Methos knew he would not be darkening their door anytime soon. As Monique barreled out of the apartment and down the steps, Methos trailed after her. Half way down the steps, he walked around someone sitting, and yelled after his wife, "There isn't any need to get all huffy. No need at all." When he heard the downstairs door slam, Methos sat, a few steps down from the other guy, and took a deep, worn-out breath. "Women," the man groaned. Methos looked back to see the man had his head planted in one hand, the elbow planted on his knee. In his other hand, he was flipping a coin around his knuckles. "You're the newlywed upstairs, aren't you?" Methos sighed and acknowledged that he and Monique were in fact the newly wed happy couple. Or trying to appear to be, if she wasn't the most selfish woman on the face of the earth. "You and your wife can make our chandelier swing pretty strong," the man's English held a thick French accent. "Our dining room must be right under your bedroom." Methos smiled wistfully; that was precisely why he married Monique, thoughts of making the chandelier swinging downstairs all the time. "We can be quite good together when she isn't yelling or throwing things." The man chuckled and extended his hand. "I am Herbert Robert," he said. When he pronounced his name, all Methos heard was "her-bear ro-bear," but he shook Herbert's hand and replied, "Dr. Matthew Benjamin." Herbert smiled pleasantly and said, "I believe our wives will be quite angry for quite a while. How about a drink?" "You're in the dog house, too?" Methos asked. When Herbert sadly shook his head, they both laughed in comradery. "I know of a place that has the most fantastic hops I have ever tasted." The two men sauntered off into the night with Methos leading the way. The dark streets of the Quarter were riddled with numerous puddles filled to capacity from the day's rain. On more than one occasion, Methos barely avoided being splashed by a passing carriage.  "Watch it!" He yelled when a careening wagon almost ran him down. The driver yelled a muffled stream of curses as he drove away into the night. "Damn idiot!" "Good thing you are quick on your feet, my friend, or your lovely wife would be a widow," Herbert clapped him on the back. "The farmers from the countryside bring their produce to the market and drink too much wine. No one is safe these days." "Ah, here we are," Methos pointed to a dimly lit storefront. "Jacques has the best ale this side of Germany." Soon, they were settled at Methos' favorite booth sipping their drinks, or more precisely Herbert sipped his drink while Methos gulped his. The newness of his marriage to Monique was beginning to wear thin. As he told Herbert earlier, they were good together when they weren't fighting, but the arguments were coming in ever-increasing intervals. The thought of disappearing off to Tahiti was growing more and more enticing with every passing fight. "Have you been married long?" Herbert broke the silence that had settled over them. "A year," Methos sighed. "Sometimes it seems like a lifetime." Herbert chuckled, "Oui, spats are a small price to pay for love." "If you say so." Methos was doubtful. "How about you?" Herbert blushed. "Marcia and I have been married almost twenty years." Methos listened with a smile as Herbert fairly beamed while he talked about the happy two decades he had spent with his wife, just having an occasional hiccup, as they were having that evening. Although over the years Methos had had many lovers and wives, he had yet to become jaded over matters of the heart. As he listened to Herbert, his mind wandered to thoughts of Amanda. He wondered what the minx was up to these days; his last bit of information had come from a letter from Darius, where the priest had shared details of her latest exploits. Perhaps if things didn't work out with Monique, he'd look up Amanda. She always was glad to see him. She never liked him to stick around long though... that was starting to wear on him. Just when he would get comfortable with her, off Amanda went on another adventure. Herbert had failed to notice that his companion's attention had wandered. "Do you have children, Doctor?" "Pardone?" Methos looked up from his mug. "I'm afraid my mind was elsewhere." "Still thinking about the spitfire?" Methos nodded in response, so Herbert repeated his question. "Do you have children?" "No." "Well, you will, if God shines his smile upon you." Methos finished his beer and signaled the barmaid for another. If Herbert only knew, Methos pondered. Herbert continued, "Marcia and I have not been so fortunate. She would like to have a child so badly, but we have been told that we could not." They spent the rest of the evening drinking and getting acquainted. It was only after Herbert glanced at his pocket watch and commented about working the next morning that sent the two of them to their respective abodes. Over the next several months, Methos and Herbert became fast friends. Methos was the first one Herbert had told about the baby he and Marcia were expecting. It was a miracle, and Herbert and Marcia were blessed. Monique had been more than slightly perturbed when he and Herbert had come home at the crack of dawn singing French drinking songs at the top their lungs. It was two weeks before she would even speak to Methos. His interest in her was really beginning to wane. ~~~~~ The sound of someone pounding on their door roused Methos from his sleep. Herbert's shouts hurried Methos out of his nice, warm bed. He belted his robe around him and told Monique to stay in bed while he went to answer the door. He wasn't prepared for the frantic sight of Herbert wringing his hands in the hall. "Matthew, you must help me!"  Methos rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "Calm down, Herbert, and tell me what the problem is." "Marcia is bleeding and she cannot hear me, at least she will not listen. She is shaking badly." Worry was written all over Herbert's usually jovial face for the safety of his miracle child and wife. Methos grabbed his medical bag and practically flew down the flight of stairs to Herbert and Marcia's flat. He followed Herbert through the small apartment. Marcia's pitiful moans were barely audible from the bedroom. When they arrived at her side, her body was drenched in sweat. Years of experience with death and dying confirmed his worst suspicions; something had gone horribly wrong with Marcia's pregnancy. Herbert looked hopefully to Methos wanting some kind of assurance that everything would be all right. After a short examination of Marcia, Methos shook his head; he owed it to Herbert to be honest with him. Herbert's face fell as he realized the gravity of the situation. Methos walked over to his friend and whispered a few words into his ear. Herbert shook his head, but Methos repeated his words. "Herbie," Marcia whispered from the bed. "Something is wrong, Herbie." "Sh, Cherie, everything will be fine." Herbert barely contained the tears that threatened to spill from his red-rimmed eyes. "Matthew is here to help." Methos came and sat on the other side of the bed. He had taken his stethoscope from his bag and listened to her heartbeat. He could almost hear it get fainter with each beat. His fingers felt a thready pulse in her wrist. He hung his head in resignation; it was only a matter of time before she passed over into death. He slipped out of the room to allow his friend to say his goodbyes. What should have been a joyous time had turned into a tragedy in a span of a few hours. He found a bottle of whiskey on the dining room buffet. He poured himself a stiff draught and gulped it down finding no satisfaction as the liquid burned its way down his throat to his stomach. "No!" Herbert's shout came loudly from the other room. "No!' ~~~~~ "He's over there, monsieur," the barkeep pointed to a solitary table in the dark corner of the bar. "He has been there all day." "Merci, Jacques." Methos accepted the mug of ale from the barkeep. He slapped a fistful of bills onto the bar. "I'll lock the door when we leave." Jacques nodded as he pocketed the money and finished cleaning up from the day's business. "Come to check on me, Matthew?" Herbert's normally thick accent was even heavier from a long day and night of drinking. "I am not your concern." "I'm afraid you're wrong about that, my friend." Methos gestured to the chair next to Herbert. "Mind if I sit here?" Herbert shrugged. "Would it make any difference? You are a stubborn bastard." "I've been called worse," Methos laughed as he settled into the chair. "Exactly how long do you plan on carrying on this way?" "Excuse me?" Herbert glared at his friend. "My wife and child just died." "It has been months, Herbert," Methos said kindly. "Marcia wouldn't be pleased to see you carrying on this way." "What do you know, eh?" Methos didn't flinch when Herbert's fist slammed onto the table rattling the empty glasses. "Go away and leave me alone! I do not need your help." "Oh, but I think you do," Methos countered. "Look, mate, I've been where you are, many times." Losing a loved one was tough. He'd never lost a child, but a person you thought you'd have in your life for ten, twenty years... it was tough when mortals died on you. Methos knew exactly what he was going through, and Herbert was a good man. Methos also knew that there was only one way to get past the pain of that loss, and that was keeping busy. If Methos didn't step in, Herbert would lose himself. "Many times?" "Metaphorically. Look, I like you. Let me... help you." Methos knew that it sounded like he didn't really want to, but he did. "Together, we'll figure a way to forget the wives we have to leave behind." "Wives?" "Wives," Methos stated solemnly. Monique was becoming more and more in his past by the minute. Telling her would be the trick. He'd have to make sure there weren't any breakables around when he did. "Say, how about you helping me out, Herbie." "What do you need?" "Have you ever packed up priceless antiques?" Continued in Part Two