Dark Legend (12 page)

She unerringly found the path to her favorite place, turning down narrow twisting lanes until the paved streets gave way to old-fashioned cobblestone. She followed the pattern up a small hill to a bridge spanning a small lake. It was only a walking bridge and at this late hour, no one was on it. They had the large park and the lake to themselves. Francesca walked out to the center of the bridge and stopped to lean against the railing. "It seems as if I always have to thank you for something." She said it quietly, without looking at him. Instead, she stared out over the lake.

The water was shimmering almost black in the moonlight. She could hear the fish jumping every now and then. The sounds of the water lapping at the banks and the fish leaping were somehow reassuring and soothing. Francesca smiled over her shoulder at Gabriel. "I come here quite often."

"When you feel alone." He said it softly.

She turned back to the water, her smile fading. "I guess you read that in my memories."

He leaned down to find a round, flat rock and skipped it expertly across the surface of the water. "No, I have not had a great deal of time to read your memories; I am still attempting to get to know the woman you are now. As I am still a stranger to you and you have commitments in your heart elsewhere, I felt it would be wrong to invade your privacy more than absolutely necessary."

Francesca found laughter inexplicably spilling out her lips. "Invading my privacy is sometimes a necessity?"

"I am, after all, a Carpathian male and your lifemate. I cannot change what I am; certain things are necessary for my peace of mind. But I am trying not to intrude where I am not wanted." He stood tall and lonely with the wind blowing his long black hair around his broad shoulders. He was not asking for approval, only stating a fact.

Francesca studied his face, the way the moon bathed it in silvery light. He was very handsome, his angular face that of a man, not a boy—his mouth was sensual, his eyes by turns smoldering with passion or as cold as ice. His eyelashes made her smile. They were long and black and heavy. Any woman would envy him those incredible lashes. He held himself aloof, careful not to pressure her. She liked him for that. She felt pressure everywhere, from all directions, and she was glad that Gabriel simply wanted to keep her company.

"I needed a place that wasn't exactly part of the city. I pretend I'm in the mountains. Sometimes I can hear the wolves calling to one another." She brushed back her cascading hair but the wind tugged at it playfully. "I really miss home. Just once I would like to go back there, although I've lived in Paris for so long now, I'm not certain I would enjoy it as much as I remember it."

He nodded. "I know what you mean. It has been centuries since I was there. The people were uneasy with my presence and once Lucian turned, I could do no other than follow where he led."

"As you have done all your life," Francesca pointed out without rancor. "I am proud of you, Gabriel. I know I have not behaved as well as I should have, but in my defense, your sudden appearance was quite a surprise and fit in with none of my plans. In my way I have always supported your fight for our people. I accepted your commitment and knew you incapable of shirking your responsibility. I tried to do something with my life that counted also. I never wanted you to think I had wasted my life." She looked down at her hands. "There was so much time for me to be alone."

"Were you afraid?" He asked it gently.

The tone of his voice turned her heart over. "Often, especially at first. I knew I had to disappear for the sake of the other males of our race. I did so during the terrible wars when so many of our people were lost to us. It took great planning. I was still quite young then, a mere fledgling. I was afraid Gregori would discover me and bring me to Mikhail. It was my greatest fear, yet sometimes I was so alone I prayed they would find me and then I was ashamed of my selfishness."

"I am sorry I put you in such a terrible position." His voice was sincere, contrite. He looked sad, his mesmerizing eyes revealing his inner turmoil.

Francesca touched his mind; she couldn't stop herself from doing so even though she was secretly ashamed of herself for doubting him. She needed to know whether he was speaking the truth or saying what he thought she wanted to hear. She examined his mind carefully. She was nowhere near his age, nor did she have his skills and power, but she was no fledgling to be tricked. Gabriel felt genuine sorrow for his part in causing her loneliness. He knew he could not change what he had done—too many would have suffered—but he wished it could have been different. He had been alone in a stark black void. With each kill the darkness had spread over his soul, forever seeking to claim him. It had been an endless battle.

Francesca gasped when she realized he had almost lost the war with the beast. It had occurred around the same time she had made her decision to attempt to become human. Had her decision influenced the outcome of his fight? Had there been a connection and she had inadvertently made his life more difficult?

"Francesca," he said softly, gently, "has it occurred to you that my near disaster with the beast may have influenced
your
decision? Why do you insist on blaming yourself? I was the one who sentenced you to a solitary existence. I would not want you to feel one bit of blame. It is not yours. Even if such a connection existed—"

"And it probably did," she interjected.

Gabriel nodded his concession. "It could be so. But there can be no blame attached to you. Not ever. I am a Carpathian male. I lasted much longer than the majority of our males and that was probably due mostly to you, and the fact that you were somewhere in the world. My soul knew it. So all that time you gave me solace and kept me strong."

"I'm a thousand years younger than you," she said and then burst out laughing. "Living so long in the human world, thinking in human terms, do you know how silly that sounds? We cannot possibly be compatible. You're way too old for me."

Gabriel found himself laughing, too. There was warmth in his heart, a genuine joy in her company. He found comfort, a soothing tranquility he had never experienced before. For so long he had felt nothing at all. Now there was light and laughter and vivid colors and textures and life itself to be lived.
Francesca.
She had given that to him. "I think that remark borders on the insubordinate. Youth can be so impetuous."

"Do you think?" Francesca bent down and found a flat round rock, her fingers closing around it, the pad of her thumb rubbing back and forth over it. "I'm pretty good at this. You're not the only one that can skip rocks. I'll bet I can put one of these across the lake with ten skips."

Gabriel's eyebrow shot up. "I cannot believe my ears. The arrogance of youth."

Francesca shook her head. "Not youth, woman power."

He made a sound somewhere between laughter and a growl of derision. "Woman power? I have never heard of such a thing. Woman magic maybe, but never woman power. What exactly is it?" he teased.

"You're asking for a sound thrashing, Gabriel," she cautioned. "I'm a champion."

He nodded toward the lake. "Let me see what I am getting myself into."

"You want a preview? I don't think so. Let's make a wager. If I win, I get the sleeping chamber. If you win, you get it."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, his black eyes laughing. "You are attempting to trick me into something I will regret for the rest of my days. If we must wager, the prize will have to be something other than the sleeping chamber. If I lose I will brush your hair at every rising for a month. If you lose, you will brush mine for the same length of time."

"What kind of dumb bet is that?" Francesca demanded, laughing. She couldn't help herself. He was far too good-looking for his own good. His black eyes were dancing and in spite of her determination not to be drawn in by him, she thought him terribly sexy. The moment the adjective entered her head, she pushed it out, but betraying color flushed her skin.

She was not going to share her body with him again. It had nothing to do with love and everything to do with chemistry and Carpathian heat. She wanted someone who wanted her for herself, not because he
had
to take her. Not because he had no choice in the matter. Just one time, before she left the world, she would like to be loved. Really loved. For herself.

"Francesca." That was all he said. Her name. There was an ache in his voice. Velvet seduction. Black magic.

She closed her eyes against unexpected tears. "Don't, Gabriel. Don't pretend with me. I am no longer human. I know your thoughts."

"You were never human, honey. Perhaps on the verge, but not wholly human. You belong in my world. You have done things no other has done and I salute you, but you were made to be the other half of my soul. Do you really think I do not love and honor you for yourself? That I would not know you better than the good doctor or any other human or Carpathian for that matter? I see into your heart and mind. I should have been there all those years, protecting you, caring for you, building a family with you. Punish me, blame me, I deserve it, but do not think you cannot be or will not be loved for yourself."

He was breaking her heart with the sincerity of his words. She couldn't touch his mind; if she did, her composure would shatter. She had been through so much—discovering he was alive, their blood exchange, which had taken the sun from her for all time, the earth-shattering experience of making love with him, the terrible ordeal of the two patients in the hospital. Brice. Thompson. All of it.

He moved then. Glided. He was power and coordination combined, so fluid he took her breath away. He moved like an animal, a great wolf stalking silently toward its prey. She closed her eyes as his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck. Exquisitely gentle. Possessive. "I am not trying to take over your life, I only want to share it. I ask for a chance. Only that. A chance. You had not planned to end your life for several years. Share those years with me. Let me try to make up for the wrong I did you."

"Don't pity me, Gabriel. I couldn't stand it if you pitied me. I've had a good life, remarkable really, for a woman of our species." She made a small movement of retreat.

His hand tightened around the nape of her neck. "You are a beautiful woman, Francesca, with many talents. There is nothing to pity. In any case, we need not discuss this matter just now. You have had to face far too many difficult situations lately. The last thing you need is to worry about how a stranger feels about you and what you do or do not owe him." His hand moved gently over the silken strands of her hair in a small caress. "I know that is what I am to you right now: a stranger. Give me the chance to become your friend."

The touch of his hand sent a swirling heat spiraling through her. Maybe it was the fact that he realized she needed space and cared enough to give it to her. "I think that might be a good idea," she replied. Warning bells were shrieking at her. He was entirely too handsome, too courtly. Too everything. What if he managed to steal her heart, after all? She was tired and wanted to go home.

Gabriel suppressed a sudden surge of triumph he was ashamed of feeling. He smiled at her, a flash of white teeth that softened the hard edge of his mouth. "You did not answer me. Are you willing to wager?"

She nodded, desperate to change the subject. "Fine, I'll make the wager with you, but only because you have never learned about real woman power." This time when she moved away from him, he allowed her to retreat. Francesca studiously avoided looking at him, concentrating instead on the surface of the lake and her rock. With a quick flick of her wrist she sent the rock skipping across the lake. Ten skips exactly.

She couldn't help grinning up at Gabriel triumphantly. He took his time finding the perfect stone. His large hand shielded its exact shape from her. "I have to skip it eleven times to win?"

She nodded solemnly. "Absolutely."

He smiled again. This time it was definitely the predator's smile. Wicked. Sexy. Altogether too tempting. Francesca tilted her chin and forced her fascinated gaze away from his perfect body to the shining surface of the lake. Why did he have to look so utterly masculine? His body was well muscled, hard, and looked way too good. "I'm waiting," she said, all too aware of how close he was standing to her. How he smelled. The taste of him. She wanted to groan but instead, she looked steadfastly out over the water, pretending she wasn't in the least affected by his close proximity.

The rock spun out of his hand so fast, she heard it buzz through the air. It skimmed across the water, hop after hop like a leapfrog racing across the water. It went on and on until it had crossed the lake and had hopped onto the opposite shore. "Well," he mused softly, a masculine taunt in his voice, "I would say that about wraps things up. Twenty-two skips all the way to the other side." He sounded very complacent. "I believe you get to be my slave and brush my hair for me at each rising."

Francesca shook her head. "What I believe is, you rigged this wager. You did something to win."

"It is called practice. I have spent much time skipping rocks across the lake."

Francesca laughed softly. "You are not telling the truth, Gabriel. I don't believe you ever skipped a rock in your life until now. You tricked me."

"You think?" He asked it innocently. Too innocently.

"You know you did. Just to win a silly bet. I can't believe you."

He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, making her heart leap wildly. "It was not just a silly bet, honey, it was a way to get you to brush my hair. No one has ever done such a thing for me and I think I crave attention." He rubbed the bridge of his nose again and grinned at her almost boyishly. "I asked Lucian to do so once and he threatened to beat me to a bloody pulp." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Some things are just not worth it, you know."

"You're nuts," Francesca decided, but she was laughing, unable to help herself. "Fine, I'll brush your hair," she conceded, her fingers itching to bury themselves in the silken strands. She was unaware that she was agreeing to far more than brushing his hair. He would be spending the days with her in the sleeping chamber. They would retire together.