THE YOU'RE IN MY HEART SERIES YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT by JoLayne and Susan Part Two ~~~~~ Methos stole back into his suite, careful not to wake Herbert, who snored away on his bed in the other room. Amanda's buzz enveloped him. Methos was half-comforted, half-annoyed she was near. He took her engagement ring from his pocket and remembered how she had trusted him enough to give it to the Barker lad, to give them the privacy he needed at that moment. From her reaction to him, he deduced that she needed him just as much. He knew exactly why he had taken so long to do this, to put his ring on Amanda's finger. She was impetuous; she was dangerous at times. For that, he loved her even more, but Amanda could also mean his undoing. The diamond flashed in the awakening dawn as he stared at it, leaning against the large, square window. The White Star Line wouldn't deem to put portholes in their first class suites on one of their three premiere ships. Methos was glad about that also. He had been dreading this voyage, but now that he was on board, it wasn't too bad. Not bad at all. It's not like he was sailing with a bunch of monks in an oversized row boat. He was sailing with the upper crust of society in a machine that demanded respect and awe. The Titanic awed Methos. If a man could get a rub down, sit in a sauna, while drinking a very good brand of beer, what was there to complain about? His mind was brought back to the reason he had agreed to follow Amanda to America in the first place. Amanda had stolen it. She had actually been the one to have done it. Even now, when he had proof, Methos couldn't really believe it. What could possibly be her reason? The theft had been world-wide news. Did she think she could just pawn it off to just anyone? Even those who have never seen it in person knew what it looked like. It was one of the most famous paintings in the entire world! Methos cringed again. Amanda was going to get them in deep, he just knew it. Clenching his hand tightly around the ring, he realized that he had to get it back on her hand as soon as possible. Yes, she was impulsive, madcap, cunning, but she was also someone who knew him better than anyone alive. Sure there were dark secrets in his past that no one was ever going to find out, but if he hadn't experienced it with Amanda in the last millennia, he had at least told her about it. Everything he had told her was accepted with frivolity, sympathy or irritation, depending on the situation. For an instant, he imagined what her reaction would be if he were to lose his sanity long enough to tell her about the three men he rode alongside as long as she'd been alive. A thousand years. When Methos had fallen for Amanda when she was a newly turned immortal, he had told himself, "If she lives a thousand years, then you can start to let her into your heart." Amanda had made it. There were times he hadn't thought she ever would. There were times he hoped that she wouldn't, but he didn't like to think about those times. Those awful times when he could very easily have taken her head; Amanda also had times in her life when Methos' head on a silver platter would have been her biggest wish. But they had survived those times. Her stealing the painting could be just another one of those hiccups that all couples endure. Right? He had to find out why she did it, but he also needed to know her accomplices. She could never have stolen it alone, and certainly couldn't depose of it herself without getting caught. As much as Amanda wanted to believe she could handle anything, she was sadly unaccustomed to looking at all the angles. She was in over her pretty little head, and Methos wondered if telling her that he was on to her would be the best way of handling things. Of handling her. Amanda could clam up, could do something rash if she knew he was onto her. He didn't want her to do something completely foolish. Methos walked to the door that connected their suites and kept the cold gold knob in his hand as he thought things over. He decided he would just enjoy the voyage-there was still a hell of a lot to see and experience on the ship, let alone chat with some of the bigwigs-and marry the love of his life on Saturday afternoon. Just two mornings from now would be his wedding morning. He had married sixty-six times, but there was no way that this marriage would be like any other he had ever experienced. Once the painting was safely back in the museum, life would be smooth sailing. Methos opened the door, intent on returning his fiancé's ring, and got the surprise of his life. Amanda stood in her pink silk robe, hands clenched over each elbow, sour expression on her face. She asked, "Where were you? I felt you leave, and now here you are." "Just taking a walk. I couldn't sleep," Methos chuckled from the abruptness of her presence. He had hoped she would still be fast asleep and he be able to curl in beside her and slip the ring on her finger, thereby waking her. Maybe they could continue their passion shared on the elevator. But no. Amanda wanted answers. "Why didn't you just come visit me if you couldn't sleep?" Amanda was clearly perturbed. Is that the norm now? I can't take a walk without clearing it with her first? Methos stated his thoughts aloud, and waited for her reaction. Amanda's face softened. "Of course not." She walked to him and rubbed her hands against his chest. "It's just that I don't want to miss anything on this ship either. I would have liked to take that walk with you." That's more like it. Methos smiled as he gathered her into his arms. Her skin was as soft as her robe. "But then, you wouldn't be surprised." "Oh, you surprise me, luv," she said, lightly laughing. "Don't think you don't." Methos showed her the ring. "This was foremost in my mind, Amanda. It belongs only on your finger." She squealed, waking both Lillian and Herbert, as she held her hand out for Methos to slip on her ring finger. He half-heartedly shushed her, but he didn't care if the servants were roused. They were happy, and he didn't care who knew it. Just seeing her smiling face, full of love for him, Methos forgot all doubts and slid the ring back where it belonged. "I do love you," he told her. "And I you, more than life itself." Amanda adjusted the ring on her hand and took a look at it as she held it out as far away from her as her arm length would allow. She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him with gratitude. "Is there anything you'd like to confess?" Methos impulsively asked. She pulled her head back from him and stared into his eyes. At that moment, Methos knew that she knew what she had done. It wasn't that bad. Now that Methos was on the case, he knew he could make it all right. She covered nicely, Methos had to admit. She kissed his nose and said, "Yes." "What is it?" Methos held her as he hoped she would tell him she made the worst mistake of her life and stole that painting and it's in the cargo hold as they stood there. Would she really fess up? "I'm starving," she announced. Methos smirked. Nope. She wasn't ready. That was okay, for the moment. There wasn't anything they could do about the painting until they landed in New York anyway. Never let it be said that Amanda couldn't surprise Methos. Just when he was going to suggest they dress and get to be first in line at the breakfast bar, or call down to have breakfast served in their private patio outside Amanda's suite, she pulled him into her room. "Go sleep in Roger's bed, Lillian. We're going to be a little occupied in here." The old woman rolled out of bed, muttering her agitation, and stalking by them, her hair in rollers and her face cracked with wrinkles, and barreled past them in the doorway. Methos watched her fall into his bed, not caring that it was his bed or sheets. "Kids," was all she said. "I'm paying for your passage," Methos reminded her. "That is why I am now sleeping in here," Lillian slurred. Methos didn't know or care if her grouchiness was because she was awakened and old, or because she had a bottle in her bed. "So bugger off." Just as Amanda pulled Methos into her suite, Lillian rose up from the bed and told them, "And keep it down!" Methos slammed the door with more force than necessary. "Keep it down, my arse! I refuse to be bullied around by an old woman." "Now you know how I feel about bossy old men." Amanda draped herself across her bed. "You're not funny, darling," Methos failed to find the humor of the situation. "Not funny at all." "Aw, Roger, surely you realize that Lillian is just an old woman and that's the way old women are supposed to be." "Being old doesn't give her carte blanche to be irksome." Methos didn't appreciate Amanda's laugh, but just shrugged and allowed Amanda to pull him down on the bed. "At least Herbert knows how to be discreet." Amanda propped herself up on her elbow. "That's only because you and he have some sort of cosmic bond that makes you blend in and ride with the current." Methos rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. Amanda grinned at his moodiness. The man had brooding down to an art. The only other person she knew who could hold a candle to Methos in a brood was Duncan MacLeod. Woe on her if those two ever met. She shuddered at the thought. Surely, fate wouldn't be so cruel. Two immortal lovers to torment her throughout eternity wasn't something she needed in her life. Oh well, the chance of Methos and Duncan meeting, much less forming a friendship, was totally unlikely. Methos avoided other immortals like the plague. Besides, she couldn't imagine two other people who were so different than those two. Methos was the eternal pragmatist, while Duncan was still full of youthful optimism. Polar opposites without a doubt. "We seem to be spending most of our time in our cabins," Methos mused pulling Amanda out of her silent comparisons of her long-standing lovers. "I thought you wanted to experience everything about this ship." "I do, but we've got plenty time for that. We're not supposed to reach New York until Wednesday." Amanda answered. "You're not complaining about spending time with me, are you?" "If I didn't want to spend time with you, why would I have asked you to marry me?" Methos kicked off his shoes. They landed in a tandem thud on the carpeted floor. "Be quiet," Lillian's muffled threat came through the door. "Bugger off!" Methos retorted. "She can't hear other things, but by the gods she can hear that?" "Why do you let her bother you so?" Amanda enjoyed witnessing his frustration at Lillian. The thought of keeping Lillian permanently to irritate Methos began to appeal to her. "I think she knows that she gets under your skin. Act like she doesn't bother you and she'll more than likely leave you alone." "Not bloody likely, Amanda."  Although she was relishing his reaction to Lillian, she determined it was probably a good idea to change the subject before his mood turned from annoyance to a full-blown pout. "You never said what you've been up to these last few years." "A little of this, a little of that." His response was noncommittal at best.  "Could you be a little more vague, darling?" "I suppose I could be." Amanda jabbed him with enough force to assure him she was serious. "Tell me." "All right, I'll make a deal with you," Methos bargained, "I'll tell you what I've been up to, if you tell me what has been occupying your time." Some of Amanda's bravado faded when he asked to hear the details of her life in recent years. "I asked first. I'm sure you've been keeping tabs on me as always." "I'm flattered that you hold me in such high esteem to think I'm omniscient, but-" Methos' modesty was totally false. "Cut the crap, Methos, I know you keep track of me." "And how do you know that?" "Well, let's see," Amanda mused, "Because it's so like you to do exactly that." Methos grinned. "Your pretty words flatter me." "Besides, Rebecca mentioned this little bit of information to me the last time I was looking for you." "You were looking for me?" Methos' eyebrows climbed at her latest revelation.  "I needed your advice on something," Amanda admitted. "But I solved it on my own when I couldn't find you." "What was the matter?"  "Nothing to worry about now," she assured him. "Now, where were we?" Methos had a disturbing way of sidetracking her when she was grilling him for information. "Right, I was asking what you've been doing lately." Her stare didn't waver as she waited for his answer. "How is Rebecca?" "Nice try, now spill," she warned. Methos noticed Amanda wasn't as easy to divert as she had been in the past. He was proud of that; she was indeed becoming a force to be reckoned with and that pleased him. She was no longer the naive young girl she'd once been. She was the only immortal he'd ever consider marrying and now that she'd proven to be a survivor he could marry her with no qualms. He remembered the exact day he'd come to that conclusion, but he didn't allow his memory to linger over that unpleasantness. After he'd come to the realization that life with Amanda was not only a pleasant wish, but a need, he'd traveled to St. Anne's to get Rebecca's insight. To say that Rebecca had been pleased was a gross understatement; she had practically smothered him with her hugs and kisses. ~~~~~ ST. ANNE'S ABBEY 1911 Methos drove up to the Abbey in his brand spanking new motor car, and proudly honked the horn. Rebecca appeared, just coming out of the door of the grand old fortress. Since the car had no roof, he expertly jumped out and pointed to it. "What do you think?" "Never mind the car! Saint's preserve us, you finally are going to make a honest woman out of our darling Amanda!" Rebecca launched herself from the front steps. Methos was rather mystified by his friend's reaction. "I take it you received my letter and you're happy with this?" "Happy?" The red haired immortal linked her arm through his and led him into her domicile. "Thrilled, overjoyed, and ecstatic would be better words." Without asking, she went to the liquor cart and poured them each a drink. "My only question is what took you so long?" "How can you possibly ask me that question?" Methos took the two fingers of scotch from her. "I've told you my qualms, we've discussed the Amanda situation long enough." Rebecca settled in alongside him with her own glass, her legs under her and leaned against him. Methos tucked his shoulder under hers and felt at home. She put her arm around him as they settled together on the Queen Anne red velvet sofa and said, "I'd like to hear Amanda's reaction to your calling it ‘the Amanda situation'." "If you tell her, I'll just deny it." Methos sipped his scotch. Rebecca twisted a lock of Methos' hair with her fingers. "You will never change." "Why should I?" "Why should you, indeed," Rebecca said. "We fell in love with you because you're you." "We?" Methos scrunched his nose at the woman who had brought light to his life, in a different way than Amanda ever had. Rebecca's radiance meant happiness, safety, and having no need to put on airs. Rebecca's eyes fluttered to the ceiling, as if trying to cover her slip. Methos sat up and stared into that lovely face to see her go through a myriad of emotions. "Amanda loves you in the literal, sensual sense." "And you?" "Get over yourself, Methos. I don't want to marry you." "But you love me." "Did you come here to bolster your self-esteem or to find out where Amanda is?" "What's wrong with bolstering self-esteem?" Rebecca laughed so melodic and carefree; it was like a bird singing on your shoulder. "You know I love you, Methos, and always will." Methos took her hand and planted a kiss upon it. She moved it to caress his cheek. "But, I don't want to marry you, I don't love you like a woman loves a man, I don't love you like-" "All right, all right. I get the picture. You don't have to write a bloody book about it." "Shall we talk about Amanda?" "Where is she?" "In London, where else? She loves the city." "So do I," Methos said happily. Their mutual love of the old city was one of the many things they had in common. "What made you want to marry her now?" "You talk as if it's not right." Rebecca's face melted and hugged him. "You could not be more wrong, love. Amanda is my treasure, and you are my best friend in the world. I couldn't be happier. I'm just wondering what the turning point was for you. You two have loved each other for so long." Methos always returned to Rebecca for her spirit and goodness; she was making him feel wonderful again. Even though he didn't care about what others thought, he did value Rebecca's opinion on the matter. Her blessing, as the only person alive who could give their blessing on behalf of Amanda, meant a lot to him. Rebecca's intense stare made him uncomfortable. She almost seemed to be staring into his soul. "You don't have an ulterior motive for asking Amanda to marry you, do you?" "Me? No. Why?" Methos halfheartedly responded. Rebecca bolted to her feet. "You do! I don't believe you, Methos!" "What? Just a minute ago you were happy and hugging me!" "Why are you asking her to marry you now? Why? Just answer that simple question." "Because I love her." "Bah! You've loved her for centuries, a millennium. Why now? Don't lie to me, I know when you lie to me." "I love her. It's time." Even as he said the words, he tried to cover that there was another reason. However, he didn't think Rebecca would be the one to confide in. Rebecca always gave solid advice and could find a way to make her disappointment known, but in a dignified way. The real Rebecca was not one to suffer fools and wasn't the least bit shy about showing it. Spending time away from Rebecca made you forget her mind games. If she kept talking long enough, she would pull it out of him. He had to be careful. "The years have had a lot to do with it, Rebecca." Methos was happy with how it sounded. Rebecca went to stand before the window. "Did you come here specifically to start a fight?" "Me?" His surprise was genuine. Methos thought he had been making headway in skirting around the issue. "I came here to get your thoughts on my marrying Amanda, that's all. You're the one who's hell bent on fighting." Rebecca closed her eyes and took a deep soothing breath. Normally, it wasn't a chore to keep her emotions in check, but Methos knew that he and Amanda had a way of sending her over the edge quicker than any other people on the planet. "Dear Methos, I think you're scared." No hint of accusation was in her voice; it was just a calm statement of fact. "Scared of what?" Methos gauged Rebecca's reaction to see if she had figured out the angle. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you would care to enlighten me?" Rebecca began to giggle. Soon she was laughing almost uncontrollably. The harder she laughed, the deeper Methos' frown became. She pulled a handkerchief out of her dress pocket and began to dab at the tears that spilled down her cheeks. She had to lean against the windowsill to keep from collapsing under her mirth. Not wanting to be the butt of anyone's joke, Methos launched himself from the sofa and stomped over to the chair he'd tossed his overcoat on and savagely thrust his arms into the sleeves. Enough was enough. If Rebecca wasn't going to take this seriously, then he wasn't about to stick around and be laughed at. He'd almost made it to the door when she caught up with him. "Darling, stop." Rebecca tugged on his arm and did her best to wipe the smile of her face. "I didn't mean to laugh at you, but–" Methos held up his hand, "I don't need or want your apologies, madam. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way." "For the love of God, Methos, stop acting like a child and listen to what I have to say." When he refused to look at her, she tenderly tilted his chin down so he would look at her. "Please?" Stubbornly, he jerked his chin out of her hand, but he didn't take his eyes off her. Several minutes passed as the two waged a battle of wills. Rebecca knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he was the most obstinate. She'd tried to out-stubborn him once or twice in their acquaintance, but to no avail. However, that didn't mean she didn't have a trick or two up her sleeve. Carefully, she watched him for a moment to see just how deep his anger ran. That was crucial to how he'd react to her next move. Slowly, the corner of her mouth began to twitch and then her lips began to stretch into a small smile. Methos was amused to see her smile widen even more as she stared up at him, and his smile grew in response. "That's much better," she reached her hand up to tussle his hair. "Why don't we start this whole visit over, shall we?" "I say that's a terrific idea." Methos allowed Rebecca to lead him back to the sofa. Once they were situated, Rebecca took his hand in hers and squeezed it softly. "I was right, wasn't I?" "About?"  "You're scared," she stated.  Methos opened his mouth to protest, but he decided to let her finish. After all, he came to hear what she thought about his future plans. He nodded and sat back to listen to what she had to say. "You're scared about Amanda, aren't you?" She smiled when he nodded. "You're scared of marrying her. You're scared of how much you love her. You're afraid of losing her." Taking a moment to let what she had said sink it, Methos had to agree. "Everything about Amanda terrifies me, but gods help me, I do love her." "Of course you do," Rebecca replied. "From the first moment I saw you two interact, I could see that you were destined to be together. Surely, you're not just now coming to that conclusion." Methos sighed. This was why he had come to Rebecca. She gave him straightforward advice. She was well acquainted with him and Amanda. Methos decided to be totally honest about one aspect of his approaching proposal to Amanda. "No, I've known it for some time. I had to be sure that she could survive the Game." "And you're confident she can now?" "Amanda has proven to be quite adept at surviving," Methos grinned. "She has an almost ferocious will to survive." "She got that from you, I suspect. I may have been her ‘official' teacher, but you've been just as equally responsible for her survival." "I couldn't let the Game swallow her up," Methos answered honestly.  "Because you love her." "From the moment I saw her stealing on that street, she's been in my blood," he sighed. "She seemed to have lost her will to live and was just stealing to eat. She didn't have any idea that she had a long life ahead of her if she played her cards right." Methos paused and smiled as he shook his head. He grasped Rebecca's hand. "I guess I'm a sentimental old fool, but there you have it." "You know she loves you." Rebecca patted his hand. "You've been the object of her admiration for most of her life. She has it bad for you, old friend." "So, you think she'll accept my proposal?" "Does the sun rise in the east?" Rebecca teased. "I suppose you've already gotten the ring." Methos pulled a jewelry box out of his pocket. Rebecca opened it and let out a gasp. "Do you think she'll like it?" "It just big enough to suit her." Rebecca smiled, so proud of him, of them both. "You know her so well." ~~~~~ THURSDAY APRIL 11, 1912 Methos lay back on the bed and pulled Amanda over him. She laid her hand on his chest. It seemed as if she was looking at the ring on her finger more than him. "If I had gotten you a smaller diamond, would you still be so enamored with it?" "Of course I would, Methos," Amanda finally looked at him. She lifted her head to kiss him and then whispered, "Because this ring is from you, and I've been waiting ssssssssssssoooooooooooooo long for it, it's special." "So, I could have put a cigar band on your finger and you'd be just as happy?" Even as Methos said it, he started laughing at the silliness of the thought. Amanda got out of bed. "Don't get carried away there, Rog." Methos turned on his side and rested his head against his palm. He got a great look at the silky smooth skin of her back just before she draped her robe over herself. "Maybe we should ask Captain Smith to find a few moments today to do the deed." She turned and smiled, not bothering to close her robe, much to Methos' delight. "I have everything planned for Saturday afternoon." "Plan? What's to plan?" "Flowers, food, guests, a room to hold the wedding. You're such a man, Roger." She sat on the bed next to him and told him, "Our roses are in the ice box in the kitchen. We could get those out anytime I suppose, but the chefs are working overtime already. To have them make our meal before it's scheduled might throw everything off kilter. I've reserved the Parisian Café for 1 pm Saturday, and I'm not sure we can get it before then." "You have it all planned." "Yes. It's not everyday I marry you." "What else do you have planned?" "I will live in peaceful bliss with you for the rest of my life. Or til death do us part, whichever comes first." "We'll live forever." Methos got out of bed to fish his pocket watch out of his pocket when he heard Herbert and Lillian in the other room. "I'm not sure about the bliss part." "What was that crack supposed to mean?" "It wasn't a crack. Come on, Amanda. Life with you is going to be filled with-" He was going to say that their married life was going to start with her fencing the painting, but stopped and pulled on his trousers. "Laughter, joy, sex..." she filled in for him. "Yes, that too." Methos leaned down to sweep her up in his arms and kissed her. When he felt her melt against him, he told her, "A new day has begun. Get moving," If he didn't get out of her room soon he knew he'd be in that bed with her until they docked in New York. Methos needed to do something; he needed to see if the content of the crate in the cargo hold was the DaVinci masterpiece or not. A crate could be any size and contain anything. Until he personally confirmed what the crated held he wouldn't be content and he needed to know now. The painting should be hanging in the Louvre instead of being stashed in the hold of some over glorified ship. As an art dealer, life long art lover, and friend of the artist, Methos had been incensed when the thought that Amanda had been the one who had stolen it first came to mind, but then realized it was better if she had. At least he knew where it was and could do two things: get the painting back where it belonged, and save Amanda in the process. Methos hurriedly dressed in his own stateroom, avoiding Lillian's disdainful stare when she returned to Amanda's. He then yelled out his farewell to Herbert and Amanda and stepped into the hallway. He knew that the cargo hold door was on the Forecastle Deck, and knew it would be a trick to get down there. If his guess held true, someone would be keeping track of the door and of who went in and out. If the painting was down there, Methos certainly didn't want it to be stolen. Again. 18F was all he could think about... that is until he was at the end of the hallway, just about to open the door that lead to the grand staircase. He looked back to see if Amanda had entered the hallway. Methos was too far down from their rooms for the immortal sensation that invaded all of Methos' entire being to possibly belong to her. Unlike younger immortals, Methos knew that looking around for the other's presence only drew attention to him. He nonchalantly walked into the lobby while he covertly glanced around the area but he found no visible traces of another immortal. Either the immortal used the same theory he did or hadn't detected Methos yet. Either way, Methos wasn't going to hang around to find out. He hurried to the door leading outside. Once out on B Deck, he felt the immortal sensation fade. With a ship this size, this popular, and this luxurious, Methos should have known there could be others on board. The thought of a quickening happening on board made him wonder if taking one of the lifeboats and rowing it to the nearest shore wasn't the best course of action to take. As Amanda had noted, Methos was the master of blending into his surroundings and did just that. People were taking early morning walks, so he smiled and bowed his head to them when appropriate. He didn't initiate small talk about the weather, but when someone did, he responded as he kept moving to the stairs down to the Forecastle Deck. Methos followed one couple most of the way to his destination. The man held an ivory walking stick that must have set him back a few dollars. Five thousand years, and Methos had yet to meet a mortal with money who didn't buy the most expensive item when the norm would do just fine. Of course, it was easy for him to discount their petty pursuit of wealth. Amanda had often teased him about being richer than God and she was right. His long life allowed him to accumulate enormous wealth, so maybe he didn't begrudge them this. A large steel door that didn't indicate what was behind it was directly in front of Methos. He had watched the huge cranes in Southampton deposit large trunks, crates, and even a car, through the trap doors, so he knew that he had to get under the trap doors to find that painting. Methos guessed that by his proximity to the massive trap doors on the floor of the Forecastle Deck, that steel door had to lead to the Cargo Hold. Surprisingly, it wasn't locked. Methos glanced around to see no one on the deck with him, and slipped inside. He held onto the heavy door as it closed so it wouldn't make any loud noise. A long passageway stretched out on either side with four more huge steel doors. 18F. 18F. Which door? Blast it all, there aren't any signs! He rubbed his chin as he debated which turn to make. "May I help you, young man?" A uniformed man asked coming from the wooden door at the end of the passageway. Methos turned to face the new arrival and adjusted his demeanor to pretend he worked there. "I came to retrieve a small parcel for one of the passengers and I'm afraid the purser's directions were less than clear." "Someone should draw that man a map," the uniformed man shook his head, "you're not the first person he's misdirected." Methos put on his best innocent face. "I don't suppose you could guide me?" The man in uniform scrutinized Methos in the tuxedo he was wearing. Seeing the man's reluctance, Methos offered, "I am dressed this way because I'm to work in the dining room for brunch. This is a favor for a passenger. They tip well, you know." The man just stood there. Methos added, "If you show me where to go, I'll share it with you." The promise of receiving a little extra money finally caused the man's face to move into a smile. "How much?" "I got twenty pounds. I'll give you ten." He held out his hand. Methos took a ten pound note out of his wallet, careful not to show the man how much he had in there, and slapped the note into his big, grubby hand. The man pocketed the note and asked, "What compartment?" "18F." "Through the door on the end," he walked to the door and opened it with a key. "Don't dawdle or move anything else." "Right," Methos saluted and walked inside the dimly lit room. Methos waited a few minutes to make sure he didn't join him, and then looked over the large room filled with floor to ceiling metal cages on each side of the passageway. A lot of personal effects and mail crowded the area. For a moment, Methos wondered how much this bounty was worth. He started walking down the passageway and saw that there were little metal signs that indicated the number of each cage. Each cage was crammed with large items, and some had metal shelves in which small items were kept. He found Row 18 and walked past compartments A-E until he reached 18F. Methos reached for the knob only to find a lock. Fate was fickle. He shrugged his shoulders. A lock hadn't been devised that he couldn't pick. Amanda thought herself the master at breaking and entering, but Methos had practically invented the concept. Pulling a jimmy from his wallet he set to work. After a few deft moves, the lock clicked with a satisfying thud and the metal gate opened. "Voila!" It had been a while since he'd broken into something and it was nice to know he still had it. In the cage was that motorcar that he had seen craned into the trap doors in Southampton and went to it. He reached in and flipped on the headlights as the room was really dark and he didn't have a lantern. Once there was light on the subject, it wasn't hard to find a crate the exact size of a container that would hold the small painting on poplar wood against the opposite wall of the cage. Maybe he was just being paranoid and there was another painting in that crate, or maybe pigs had sprouted wings and had started to fly. He pulled the 32 x 22 inch wide, 5-inch deep crate out from the corner and found that it was nailed shut. The dimensions were right, if the world famous painting was inside. He looked around and found a crowbar on the floor of the car, and used it to open the top of the crate. Methos' hands shook with nervous anticipation as he pulled it out of the crate and pulled part of the velvet that was wrapped around the panel. The face he didn't want to see peered up at him from the piece of flat poplar. The most famous smile in history mocked him as Methos rubbed his forehead. He turned the panel over to see the telltale mark of the Louvre museum burned onto the back. This certainly complicated things. Normally, Amanda's occupation didn't bother him. In fact, on several occasions he had been along for the ride. Everyone had their vices; stealing just happened to be Amanda's. It was as much a part of who she was as the color of her eyes or the way she laughed. There was no use trying to reform her–it was part of her charm. Knowing the things he'd done in his own past, he had no right to sit in judgment of her. Then why are you so mad she's stolen this? A little voice in his mind questioned. "This is the Mona Lisa, for the sake of the gods," he said aloud. "Leonardo's masterpiece. It deserves to be seen, not salted away by some pompous snob on the black market." How very upright of you! "Leo was my friend. His masterpiece shouldn't be shuffled around the world by money grubbing thieves like it was a meaningless diamond or Ming vase." And you've never broken a promise before? Amanda has her reasons for stealing it, I'm sure. "Amanda always has her reasons," Methos argued. "The world knows this face and also knows that it is missing." Whatever. "The world knows it's missing! How did she get into this mess?" Just lucky, I guess. "Bugger off," Methos told the voice in his head. "I must be losing it. I'm arguing with myself." And I'm winning, the voice snickered. Methos ignored the voice while he gently re-crated the painting. Now that he knew for sure the Mona Lisa was indeed in Amanda's possession, he had two options: he could go back to her stateroom and confront her about it or he could leave it down here, wait until they landed in New York, and deal with the matter then. The sound of a key in the door made him jump. You better think fast, the voice taunted. I hope you're still the master at covering your arse. "After this is all over with I'm taking a long vacation," Methos mumbled as he slid the panel back into the crate. ~~~~~ Amanda sat at the vanity table fussing with her hair, already dressed for brunch. The only problem on her mind was that Methos had yet to return from his mysterious mission. The sunlight through the window reflected off the large diamond in her ring. No matter how many times she looked at it, it took her breath away. Methos must truly love her to be so extravagant, knowing his penchant for being miserly. She'd never let go of this beauty. "They'll have to pry it from my cold dead fingers," she muttered to her reflection. The mantel clock chimed the eleventh hour of the new day. She stood up from her chair and wandered restlessly through her stateroom into his. She didn't feel the slightest hint of a buzz no matter how hard she strained. Where in the blazes was he? Maybe he jumped overboard and is making a swim for shore, a voice in her head taunted. "No, he wouldn't do that to me." Yes, right, Methos is always straightforward and honest. Amanda clapped her hands over her ears as if to drown out the voice. "We love each other and we're getting married and that's final!" You love him sure, but does he really love you, Amanda? Or is he just playing you for the fool? "Stop it!" "Mademoiselle Amanda, is there something wrong?" Herbert walked into the room from his small room. "For goodness sake, Herbert, you very nearly scared the life out of me," Amanda clutched her heart dramatically. "You could give a girl some warning." "I hardly think you are that delicate, Amanda." Herbert chuckled knowingly. "You and Roger are made of hardy stock." "Yes, but still, warn me a little next time, alright?" Amanda flounced over to the settee. Herbert continued puttering about the room, straightening and organizing the little clutter that had found its way into the sumptuous suite. "May I ask you something, Herbert?" "Of course," he continued on with his tasks.  "You've known Roger an awfully long time," Amanda began. "Do you think he's serious about marrying me?" Herbert paused and looked at her. "I do not imagine he would ask you out of jest. He always talks so lovingly of you. If I were a betting man, and you know I am, I would stake my life on his marrying you." "Really, Herbert?" Amanda questioned. "I can take the truth." "Really, Amanda," Herbert smiled, taking her hand to paternally pat it, even though he knew she was older than his dead grandmother. "Now if you will excuse me, I promised to escort Lil to brunch." Amanda felt a little better. "Thank you." Herbert slipped into his coat and knocked on the door to Amanda's adjoining stateroom. Lillian came out wearing her coat and the two of them headed off to find food. Amanda tried her best to sit still and wait for her wayward fiancé to return, but patience as a virtue had always escaped her. If he didn't hurry up, she was going escort herself to brunch. His approaching presence and the sound of a key in the lock signaled she wouldn't be eating alone. She was about to launch into him about leaving her for so long when the expression on his face halted the words. The expression was one she rarely saw, but immediately she knew something was very wrong. "Amanda, we need to talk," he stated very quietly as he shut the door behind him. "About?" She asked just as quietly. "I'm going to ask you something and for once in your long life, I need you to tell me the gods' honest truth." Amanda swallowed hard. She did a quick mental review of the possible things he might ask her, though nothing came to mind. "What's the matter, Methos?" The tension in the room made her forget to use his latest alias. "Did you steal the Mona Lisa?" His hazel eyes bore into hers. "Tell me the truth." Amanda breathed a sigh of relief as he was just going to bring that up and not anything important. "No, I didn't." Methos crossed the room in ground eating strides. Once he stood in front of her, he bent down to maintain eye contact. "I told you not to lie to me!" "I'm not lying to you," Amanda said confidentially.  "Yes, you are!" "No, I am not." Methos threw his head back in frustration. "You're lying, Amanda, admit it!" Amanda pushed herself off the settee. He wasn't going to bully her into admitting to something she hadn't done. "You asked me to tell you the truth and I did!" "What have I done to deserve this?" Methos muttered. He closed his eyes and counted to ten then twenty. Finally feeling calm, he looked at Amanda. Her face held no sign of dishonesty, but then again it never did. "I know you took it and I have proof." Amanda smiled and put her hands on her hips. "Then prove it." "Let's just say I've long suspected your handiwork since it went missing from the Louvre. I just took a stroll down to the cargo hold. Does 18F mean anything to you?" "You dirty bastard!" He barely ducked in time to miss the well-placed punch she aimed in the general direction of his nose. "How dare you pillage through my things!!" "Your things!?" Methos didn't know whether to laugh or yell. "I knew you stole it!" "Once again, you lame brained dolt, I DID NOT STEAL THAT DAMN PAINTING!!!" "I suppose the art fairy just delivered it to you one night," Methos ground out. "Really, Amanda, how stupid do you think I am?" "I don't think you want me to answer that, do you?" Amanda saw that Methos wasn't in a joking manner, and leaned in closer to him to explain. "Besides, it wasn't the art fairy, as you so succinctly put it, it was more like a chance meeting with destiny." "Do tell," Methos rolled his eyes. Amanda did always have a flare for drama. "If you want me to tell the story, then you have to shut up and sit down." "This should be good." Methos folded his arms across his chest as he sprawled on the sofa. "You were saying?" Amanda glared at him and he had the good sense to shut his mouth and listen. "That's better. Well, one night I was alone in my flat in Paris minding my own business–" "That's a first," Methos mused. "I was minding my own business, when someone knocked on my door." Amanda relayed, "I peeked out the door and lo and behold it was my old buddy, Armand." "I really don't want to hear about your boudoir exploits, Amanda."  "If you do not shut up, I swear I will throttle you, Methos. You can't accuse a lady of something and not wait for the explanation that will prove you wrong!" After waiting for him to get into listening mode, she took a deep, cleansing breath. Methos could be so irritating! She calmly continued, "He was all in a panic, muttering something about the gendarmes being after him, and would I keep something for him. Of course, being a good friend, I said yes. He shoved a crate into my flat and took off for parts unknown. When he didn't come back to retrieve it, I got curious." "Curiosity killed the cat burglar," Methos snickered. "Imagine my surprise when I opened it and saw the Mona Lisa staring back at me," Amanda smiled. "So, you see, I did not steal the painting, just like I said." "A mere matter of semantics, Amanda. You know what I meant."  "Whatever," she dismissed his statement with a smile. "I told you the truth." "So you didn't steal it, but why didn't you return it?" "Are you kidding?" Amanda was flabbergasted. "Do you realize how much I can sell her for?" "Sell it?" Methos screamed. "Sometimes I just don't believe you, Amanda!" "Oh, settle down. People can probably hear you." "Do you know what? I don't care! How could you do that? The world has been looking for it, and you've had it all along?" "Not all along. Armand just gave it to me a couple of months ago. It's been missing almost a year. If he was the one who stole it, I don't know. All I know is that it was in my possession and Armand was scared to death." "Of course he was, he has a brain." "Excuse me?" Methos changed the subject. He knew if he didn't, he'd say something he didn't mean. "You've been with the Earl that long. Is he in on it too?" "No. I met the Earl at a party and we hit it off. I make him laugh and he invited me to join him at his estate. Traveling with an Earl makes border crossings a heck of a lot easier when there's extra security over a missing work of art. I thought it would be a good place to hide out with that atrocious painting until things calmed down a little." "Atrocious?" Methos started pacing to expend some energy. Starting to throw things, or knock her over the head wouldn't be prudent in this situation. "Atrocious?!" Amanda just shrugged and put on her hat for brunch. "If you're coming with me to get something to eat, you'd better get a move on." Methos took hold of her shoulders from behind as she primped in the mirror on the wall and sat her down on the overstuffed chair by the table. "Listen to me carefully, Amanda. Let me know if you don't understand a word I'm saying, as I'll be very happy to repeat myself in this instance only, because this is very important." "I don't need an art lesson, if that's what you're thinking of. I know that people think it's ... striking. I just don't see it." "Striking. Interesting choice of word. Impressive, unusual, outstanding, remarkable. Very nice choice of word. I would add remarkable, inventive, skilled. It's the work of a genius, a master, an expert craftsman." "You're talking about Leo, right?" Methos smiled when he realized she was just goading him. "Honey," she began. "I know the impact of the painting. I know the people of France are sorry it's gone-" "Sorry? They'll kill to get it back." "Good thing I'm not in Paris with it then, isn't it?" Amanda walked back to the mirror to put the last pin in her hat, and caught Methos' frustrated expression behind her. He was so serious over matters of art, it was almost funny. "Look, I know. I know all about people's fascination with it, but again, I just don't see it." In her mind she conjured up the image of the world famous smile that she had smuggled, first to England, then to the cargo hold of the Titanic. She looked at her own reflection, mimicked the smile she used while posing for DaVinci 400 years before. How Leonardo could not put her dazzling smile on that painting had been one of the mysteries of man that Amanda couldn't grasp. In fact, when she had looked at the portrait once again before packing it in the crate for the voyage, she didn't see any of her features in Mona. She knew there were other models for it, over a four year period, and as far as she knew, Leonardo never deemed it ‘finished'. Amanda knew she was more attractive than any of the other models, let alone the original model, La Gioconda, whose husband had commissioned it in the first place. Even if Mona had been an amalgamation of them all, something of herself should have made its way into Leonardo's mind and hand as he created it. She looked at Methos again, who was staring at her. When she realized that her reflection in the mirror was a simulation of Mona Lisa's smile, she giggled and turned to face him. "When was the first time you saw the painting?" Methos asked, his face thoughtful, his voice calm and soft. "When Leonardo was ‘finished' with it the first time. What was Leo thinking?" "He was in his own world, that's for sure. He told me that Lisa was a idealization of all women, to him, the perfect woman. What did you feel the first time you saw her?" "Disappointment." "How on earth-" "She wasn't me. It wasn't easy posing for the man, sitting for hours in his hot studio, nothing to eat or drink, on a stool three feet off the floor. All for nothing." "Not nothing, Amanda." Methos slowly shook his head as he sat down with a deep breath. He looked off as he said, "The brush strokes were innovative. The lighting and shadow, seamless. If you looked at her closely, you could get lost, and could swear that the pulse at the base of her throat was fluttering, that blood was actually oozing through her veins. She's a perfect symmetry of arcs and circles." "I liked it better in its original size. I thought Leonardo's patio was perfect. The flowers looked like they were actually swinging in a slight breeze." "The bottle of wine on the table looked three dimensional, as if you could actually pluck it up and pour." "Do you remember the butterfly just skirting over the orchid on the right side?" "You could almost hear it flapping its wings. He was such a genius, and those things are lost to mankind, along with Leonardo's signature in the corner. Whoever lopped off each side of the panel should be hung." Amanda giggled and sat beside him. "Right next to Mona in some museum? Maybe Leo did it himself. Remember on the balcony rail, there was the Giocondo family crest, and Leonardo's mirror image signature." "Could be. Leo was enamored by it all his life. He even put himself on it." "He did? Where?" "On the left side of her hair, that's Leo's profile." Amanda stared at him as if he was insane. "What?" "On the left side of Mona, as you're looking at it, Leonardo painted in his profile. He was old then. The line on Mona's forehead, remember?" "No." "Maybe he did it after you saw it last. That line is thought to be a veil of some sort, it's the top of Leonardo's head as his profile is along the left edge of Mona's hair." "Hm. I'll have to look at it closer. When was the last time you saw Leonardo?" "Just before he died. You?" "When he left Florence, or fled with Mona from Giocondo, however you want to look at it." Methos mused in silence for a moment before saying, "She looks so bare without her frame." "So small. It needs a large frame." "They found its frame in the stairwell at the museum. They also had a left thumb print! I can't believe man's technical advancements, and that they don't cover all the angles." "What are you babbling about now?" Methos was in his element now. "They found a thumb print of whoever it was that must have stolen her on a piece of glass near the frame the panel was taken out of. The police have a collection of fingerprints of noted thieves and some residents of France, right?" "Yes. I know about wearing gloves. Why didn't they catch the thief if he left his print?" "It was of the left thumb, and when the French fingerprint, they only keep the right hand on file. They had a perfectly good print of the assailant, but can't do a thing with it. The world is changing so fast, Amanda." Methos looked around the stateroom, full of luxury, now afloat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean on its way to a new and industrious world. "Man is getting smarter and smarter. The telephone, telegraph, light, photography, moving pictures. But they just can't get it right the first time. There is always a period of trial and error, or not knowing of what use an invention will be, or worse yet, their own limitations." "You aren't still thinking about that novel, are you?" "What novel? Oh, the one about the biggest ship at sea that hits an iceberg, sinks, and three-fourths of those aboard freeze to death on the surface or are at rest on the ocean floor? Is that the one you mean?" "You are one of a kind, luv," Amanda told him and kissed him. "I'm really getting hungry. Can we go get something to eat while they might still have food set out?" Methos felt the same and stood, taking her hand. "I still can't believe you got La Joconde out of France." "It helps to travel with royalty. You'd think the French would be more careful with English royalty coming and going. Flash a royal crest and you can ride right past." "I know." Amanda looked at him, knowing he may have had the guts to pose as royalty at one time or another. "There's one thing I never understood. I guess I wasn't paying attention, but just how did the French get it in the first place? Leo was Italian through and through. If an Italian heard you call Mona La Joconde, they'd beat you to a bloody pulp, luv. Why isn't it in Italy?" "Leonardo gifted it to Francois I, a good friend, who Leo knew would take care of it. A Frenchman. It hung in a bedroom in Francois' palace for years. Do you know how hard it is to sleep with her mug looking down at you all night?" "Troubling, I'm sure." "It's seen better days lately. Have you been taking care of it?" "As well as I can." "It's darker, fading. Remember when it was so light and vibrant?" "It was pretty." Methos glared at the understatement. "What are you planning to do with it?" "An American wants to buy her for his own private collection." "How much are you getting to bring it to him?" Amanda lowered her head in shame, but decided to tell him the truth. "One hundred thousand American dollars." Methos whistled. That was quite a good sum. "Which American is this?" "I can't tell you that. One of the conditions is that it is completely covert." "I'm to marry you. No secrets, remember?" "Cornelius Wallace," she admitted, taking great pains to do so. "He's in shipping?" "Yes." "So, if I were to pay you one hundred and one thousand, you'd let me have it?" "What would you do with it?" "Return it to the Louvre." They sat in silence for a moment while Amanda thought that over. She announced, "That's doable." "But, after we get married, what's in your possession is mine." "In your dreams." Then she realized the magnitude of what he had said. A wide conquering smile overtook her face as she said, "And what's yours is mine." Methos shrugged. "Looks like we both possess the Mona Lisa the day after tomorrow." "And your money." Amanda glowed with pleasure when he said that, but Methos opened the door and announced, "I'm taking over control of the painting as of this very minute." "But I'm starving, Methos," she whined forgetting to use his alias.  Methos paused with his hand on the door, "I want her up here, where I can keep an eye on her." "Well, surely you can wait until after we get something to eat," she bargained. She closed the distance between them making sure Methos' attention was centered on her swaying hips. "Please? I promise to make this up to you, darling." "Don't be coy, Amanda." Methos pushed her hands off his lapel. "I mean to have her here." "Oh, you stubborn man," Amanda purred. "She's all yours, but I am the one you're marrying. Should I feel jealous?" "Jealous?" Methos laughed pulling her into his arms, "I prefer a flesh and blood woman, not a painting. You know that." He rubbed his hips seductively against hers. "Isn't that right?" Amanda pressed herself as close as the material they wore would allow. "Yes, I'd have to agree with you on that matter." Her breathing grew heavier when she felt his desire rising. "Suddenly, I'm not very hungry." Her lips sought his tasting and teasing. "Expect maybe for you." Methos slipped his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss. His body reacted to her closeness, just like it always did. He hoped Amanda never fully realized the effect she had on him. Even though she was the one immortal he'd never worried about taking his head, he was still paranoid enough not to her in on this fact. His voice of self-preservation simply wouldn't allow it. "Let's eat," Methos reluctantly broke off the kiss. His stomach growled loudly to confirm its agreement on the matter. Amanda's lips turned up into a saucy pout. "I thought you said you were hungry." "I was, but now I'm not," Amanda purred into his ear as she nibbled at his earlobe. "A girl can change her mind, after all." "I've never met a girl who changes her mind as much as you do, luv." Methos' eyebrows rose when he felt her hands slither down his chest to his waist. "Amanda, we have all the time in the world for this after we eat." "Party pooper!" Amanda moved away from him.  Methos took the opportunity to readjust his trousers and button his coat. "Yes, well, one of us has to be responsible." He opened the door and gestured for to go first. "You, Mr. Responsibility? I don't think so, darling. It doesn't suit you." Amanda moved out the door with a graceful sweep. Methos shut the door behind them and turned the key to lock it. "Hold still, Roger." "Why?" Methos asked, expecting another delay. "Do you have to be so cantankerous?" Amanda giggled. "Your tie is crooked." "Well, if you weren't pawing me." Methos grinned. "Once again, I'm the victim of your powers of seduction." "A willing victim if I remember correctly." Amanda ran her finger along his cheekbone. "Now, be a good boy for just a little while, and great shall be your reward." "You promise?" He captured Amanda's hand in his and kissed each one of her fingers. "Let's put it this way, darling," Amanda smiled up at him. "You put on your most charming and winning face and I'll do things to you, you've only dreamed of." Methos consider her proposition for a minute or two. He recalled reading somewhere in her chronicle that she'd joined a couple of harems, so he knew she probably wasn't exaggerating. "Deal." "See, marriage is all about compromise," Amanda observed as she linked her arm with his. "Yes, I know you are all about compromising," Methos muttered. "What was that?" Amanda was distracted by the parade of high fashion and jewelry of their fellow passengers also on their way to the main dining room. "I said I could get used to all this fine dining," Methos answered. Amanda considered his statement. "Well, it's not like you don't have the money, Roger. You can't take it with you." "Thank you for the sound financial advice." Methos guided her down the Grand Stairway. "I'm sure people seek you out for your wisdom." "Funny, luv," Amanda said. "Now, smile and be friendly." Methos plastered a fake smile on his lips, "Yes, dear." "Miss Sinclair!"  Amanda glanced around the room looking for the person behind the voice. Seeing a tall young man waving to her, alongside a petite young woman, Amanda pulled Methos behind her. Methos wondered when Amanda had had the opportunity to meet anyone; they'd been alone most of time thus far. "James, Elaine! How are you?" Amanda beamed as she shook hands with the couple. "You haven't met my fiancé yet." Amanda turned to Methos. "James and Elaine Wentworth, this is my darling fiancé, Roger Sothem. He is a banker." Elaine lifted her hand, which to Methos had to take the strength of ten men with all the diamonds on her wrist and fingers. He accepted it, and found a place to kiss just under the bracelet. This was just brunch, and it seemed she was wearing the entire contents of her jewelry box. He just hoped Amanda hadn't befriended them just to lessen Elaine of her load. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Wentworth." "Sothem," Wentworth said, his hand at his goatee. "From the Norwick Sothems?" Methos smiled. People always tried to peg where he was from. He decided to play some sort of game though. "No, actually. From the Northumberland Sothems." James extended his hand. "Ah, good. Good. I met Manford Sothem at George's coronation." "Distant cousin. He's quite the social butterfly." What did it matter what he told the man? Methos turned to Amanda, and laid his arm on the small of her back. "If we are to sup, we should get a move on." Elaine adjusted her satin frock as if she wasn't used to the garment and said, "We were just making our way down to the dining room. We can all go together." "Wonderful," Amanda took her hand and walked down the hall.  Methos nodded to James. "After you." Methos assumed brunch would be a boring affair with these two. James seemed to be too young to have been able to afford Elaine's diamonds on his own. He had to have inherited every shilling he had. Old money inheritors were the worst. They had no business sense, street smarts, or culture. They thought they did, but they didn't. He seethed his thanks to Amanda as the foursome moved into the lobby and down the grand staircase to D Deck. Elaine sighed and stopped to take a look up at the glass dome over the stairs. "This is such a magnificent ship. I've never seen such swanky surroundings in my life. Isn't that right, James?" When they were a few steps ahead, Amanda leaned to Methos to whisper, "James met Elaine in Paris while she was dancing." Well, well, well. "Is that so?" Methos looked at her in a new light. Instead of being a spoiled brat aristocrat who might have preferred climbing trees than dressing in gowns of the sort she wore, she may in fact, have been plucked from a tree. A dancer in Paris. Methos' mind filled with the nights of debauchery in clubs that existed only to feed on men's desires. And did it so well. He looked at Elaine again to see if he might have frequented her. She was a petite woman with long auburn hair fixed appropriately in an elegant up-do. The lilac satin gown she was continually straightening looked as if it was the first time she had worn it. Right down to her black satin shoes, she was wearing new things. Elaine's makeup was heavier than Amanda wore, as theatrical as if she was still dancing in a Paris club, but with softer tones. . Amanda smiled and whispered to Methos, "She's trying to fit in, please be nice to her. I like her. We met at the masseuse yesterday and James' family doesn't accept her. She's hoping that she can meet some influential people on this voyage and have them like her, and the word will make its way back to the Wentworths that Elaine is recognized." "How long have they been married?" "Only two months. This is their honeymoon." "And they want to spend it with us?" "Just one brunch, Roger. We're not adopting them." Amanda giggled as she took his hand and led him into the dining hall. Many of the diners were leaving, which would make the meal even more pleasant. He noticed a gray haired man in a sharp white uniform covered in gold medals and ornamentation. "Captain Smith, I presume?" Amanda turned in the direction Methos looked. The Captain noticed her and nodded to the old couple he had been mingling with, that Methos recognized as Isidor and Mrs. Straus. Isidor was the head of L. Straus and Sons, a major china and glass company whose wares were known the world over. More importantly, he was a philanthropist who donated to hospitals and gave milk to the poor while turning Macy's Department Store in New York City into a profitable venture. Captain Smith grasped Amanda's outstretched hand and said, "Miss Sinclair. How nice to see you again." "Just two more days, Captain," Amanda said. Methos saw that she was in her element talking to the most important man on the ship and all around could see. Captain Smith looked to Methos. "Yes. Two more days until I unite the both of you in the bonds of marriage. You are a lucky chap, Sothem." Methos shook his hand. "I am indeed, Captain." Amanda took this opportunity to introduce Elaine to the Captain, in a louder voice than she usually had, more than likely to gather more attention for the moment. Captain Smith was gallant with her, making it known that he was pleased to make her acquaintance. "Now if you will excuse me, I am wanted on the bridge." "Of course, Captain," Amanda said. "Saturday at one, Café Parisian." Captain Smith once again took Amanda's hand and slightly bowed to her. "I will wear my uniform that I use only for dress occasions, Miss Sinclair. Until then, enjoy the voyage." Just then a man with a handlebar mustache made his presence known as he had been standing behind Methos. Captain Smith said, "Ah, Mr. Ismay. There was something more you needed?" "Yes, Captain," the Brit said, nodding to Methos and Amanda, then turning his back on them as he led the Captain away. Even though the man whispered, Methos could hear him say as they walked away, "I hear you have slowed down the ship..." Methos was going to follow to continue eavesdropping on the conversation, but was pulled to their table by Amanda. No one should tell a Captain of a ship how fast or slow a ship should sail, no matter who you were. Thoughts of the Titan in the novel flooded his brain once again as they sat at the table. So much so, Methos had forgotten to hold the back of Amanda's chair, as Wentworth was doing for Elaine. He noticed his faux pas when Amanda remained standing, glaring at him. Methos stood and went through the motions of chivalry, shaking his head. "So sorry, luv. Protocol went right by me for a moment." Elaine softly giggled as she put her napkin across her lap. "I have been having such a time with protocol myself, Mr. Sothem. It is a good thing James is so lenient with me. He is teaching me all the ropes. There are so many!" She giggled louder, taking her napkin up to cover her face as many a lady did. Methos thought she was doing just fine. He told her, "You could have fooled me," as Amanda took her seat and he helped her position it comfortably from the table. "As you can see, we all make mistakes once in a while." He sat between Amanda and Elaine and said, "May I say you look smashing." Elaine blushed, and immediately looked to her husband, who grinned with pride. "You may," she shyly replied. As Methos laid his napkin on his lap, he noticed Amanda smile at him. It was one of gratitude and happiness. All of Amanda's smiles pleased him, and when he looked at the menu of what would be served, Methos felt completely at ease. Instead of a dreadful meal, Methos found himself pleasantly surprised by his dining companions. Elaine told them stories of her life prior to meeting James. Methos smiled and chatted and was generally very social as he was regaled with tale after tale. James barely kept his eyes off his beautiful young wife. Amanda discreetly patted Methos' knee as the meal progressed, assuring him she was pleased with his behavior. His grin deepened when he felt her hand slide from his knee along his thigh. His own hand disappeared unobtrusively from the tabletop and closed over hers, massaging the soft skin of her fingers resting on his thigh. "Amanda?" Elaine questioned.  "Um," Amanda looked away from her fiancé. "I beg your pardon, Elaine. I must've been distracted." "Love does that to a girl, doesn't it?" Elaine giggled as James leaned over and bussed her cheek. "How long have you two known each other?" Amanda glanced at Methos to see if she should answer; a slight nod of his head and Amanda answered, "It seems like I've known Roger all my life," Amanda replied truthfully. "Childhood sweethearts, how romantic," Elaine gushed.  Methos coughed to cover the laughter that threatened. "Yes, it is. Amanda keeps me young, makes me remember my boyhood." Methos smiled widely at Amanda, who was rolling her eyes at his humor. "Isn't that right, darling?" "Of course, sweetie," Amanda agreed.  James raised his champagne glass, "To true love!" The other three lifted their glasses and echoed his toast. ~~~~~ Methos whistled as he strolled from the storage compartment. The wooden crate that held the Mona Lisa was safely in his hands. Amanda had gone with him to the purser's office and requested that the painting be brought out of storage. Methos had insisted on being the one to retrieve it. Amanda had gone back to their cabins, muttering under her breath about obsessive old men. Carefully, he leaned the crate against the wall while he unlocked the door to his rooms. He used his foot to kick the door shut. He pried the panel off to reveal the painting. Mona smiled at him and Methos sighed. She deserved to be admired and not be shut away. Leonardo's masterpiece would be on its way back to Paris as soon as they landed in New York. "Amanda," Methos called. "I know you're here. Come out and quit your pouting." The door between their rooms slowly opened and Amanda sauntered out into the room. She was dressed casually, in a simple cream ivory dress but the strand of pearls he had given her earlier in the voyage hung enticingly from her slender neck. She sipped from a crystal champagne flute. "I am not pouting." Methos snorted. "Amanda, I know pouting when I see it. You resort to drink when you pout. Though I must say, those pearls belong on you, wrapped around your perfect body." "I see you have the damn painting," Amanda observed without acknowledging any of his comments. She walked over to where he stood and looked at the painting staring back them. "I still don't see the attraction, Roger." "Then you are the only one in the world," Methos mumbled. "Don't let petty jealousy color your vision." "So you think I'm jealous, eh?" Her brown eyes flashed with anger. "I don't think it; I know it." Methos caught her hand before she could storm back to her room in a fit of anger. "Let's stop fighting, all right? I don't want to spend anymore fighting with you when we could be doing more productive things." Amanda felt his fingers toy with her hair and trail along her spine. "What did you have in mind?" "Grab your wrap and you'll find out," Methos teased. Amanda ran to her room and scooped up her mink stole, while Methos slid the famous painting under his bed. Amanda took his outstretched hand and followed him out of their rooms. Soon they were strolling along the promenade passing other passengers out for a stroll in the crisp afternoon April air. They nodded to those they knew and made their way to the railing. The ocean was calm except for the waves caused by the massive ship plowing through the water. Amanda pulled her stole close around her and leaned into Methos. "That water must be very cold." Methos wrapped his arm around her. "It is. The Northern Atlantic isn't exactly conducive to skinny dipping." "Not like our pond," Amanda pressed close against him. "Did you tell Rebecca about our impending marriage?" "She wanted to know one thing: what took me so long to ask you." "What did take you so long?" Amanda asked honestly. "A lot reasons, Amanda. I've never married another immortal," Methos explained after making sure they were alone. "I know, but why me? Why now?" "You love to be reassured," Methos used Rebecca's line to him but in a teasing fashion. If Amanda needed it, Methos would provide it. "Because I love you and I know you can survive without relying on me if worse comes to worse." "That sounds so simple." Amanda looked up at him. "Are you sure?" "Not everything has to be complicated, Amanda." "But it usually is when we're involved," Amanda reasoned. "It goes against nature for it not to be complicated." "I assure you I have no ulterior motives. I just want to marry you." Now that he knew for sure about her part in the most notorious art theft in centuries, he had been totally truthful. He still wanted to marry her, get off this boat, get the painting back where it belonged, and live. She was still silently imploring him for an answer, so he grunted. "How many times do I have to say this?" Amanda searched his face for any signs of deceit or betrayal, but she wasn't able to find anything other than love shining in his hazel eyes. "I believe you. Don't make me regret it." "You won't," Methos told her. "Sothem," Methos heard a man say behind him. He quickly finished his kiss on Amanda's chilled lips and turned to see James. Wentworth was dressed in exercise clothes and carried a racket. "I thought we were to meet in the squash court." He looked at his pocket watch and said, "We still have it reserved. Care to join me in a game?" "That's right. I seemed to have forgotten being in the presence of the love of my life." Amanda giggled and hugged him. "You say the most perfect things sometimes. You should do it more often." James asked, "Can you do it later? We only have the court for another half hour." "You can wipe my brow when I get sweaty, Amanda," Methos offered, making sure to give her an extra squeeze before breaking off their hug. "Please, luv. There are other ways than silly squash I can think of to make you sweat." James laughed. "You got yourself quite the pistol, Roger." Amanda smiled brightly at him and announced, "And I have him in my holster." "Touche," James said, bowing to her. "Elaine was wondering if you would like to share tea time in the Ala Carte Restaurant. If you don't mind. She is quite taken with you. If you would do her the honor of spending time with her, showing her the ropes, you know, how to be a lady..." "Amanda? A lady?" Methos scoffed with a laugh. Amanda swatted him. "I would be pleased to, Mr. Wentworth. But, Roger was taking me somewhere..." "I forgot about our arrangement," Methos said, indicating James. "I was just going to walk the ship until things were ready, so..." "Oh, now you really have my attention. What do you have planned?" "You will find out when the time is right. I can get a game in, and you can spend more time with Mrs. Wentworth." "Okay," Amanda said, a little disappointed. "There are so many restaurants on this ship, where on earth is the Ala Carte Restaurant?" "B Deck Promenade," James said. "I would be happy to escort you." "She can find it." Methos kissed her and then said, "Meet me back here at six. Do not be late." "What's going on?" "Do not be late, and whatever you do, wear those pearls," Methos demanded. "Anything else?" she coyly asked. "Anything else you wear is up to you," he said with a smile as he walked with James to the door nearest to the elevators inside. "How skilled are you with one of those?" Methos indicated James' racket. "You will find out. Care to make a friendly wager?" "Friendly?" Methos asked as he opened the door for them and waved back at Amanda. "No. I don't think so." "Your loss," James walked over the threshold.  "My loss, nothing. I don't care for friendly wagers. If one is to gamble, the amount should be ludicrously antagonistic." "As your woman said, you do say the most perfect things, Sothem." "My woman," Methos chuckled. "Yeah, say that around Amanda a little more often. I'm sure she enjoys it immensely." Continued in Part Four