Embrace the Night (8 page)

When she woke, it was almost dark. Sitting up, she glanced around the dusky room, the need to relieve herself uppermost in her mind.

She was on the verge of tears, afraid she would disgrace herself, when Gabriel entered the room.

"You're looking well,
cara
," he remarked, and then frowned at the expression of distress on her face. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I need… I need to…" Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. How did a lady tell a man that she needed a bedpan?

But there was no need. Understanding dawned in the depths of Gabriel's eyes. Wordlessly, he swept her into his arms and carried her down a long hall lined with narrow cells.

He stepped into the first cell, uncovered the chamber pot in the corner, raised her gown, and placed her on it.

Avoiding her gaze, he left the room.

She couldn't face him when he returned.

"Sara? Sara, listen to me. You needn't be embarrassed. I'm only sorry I didn't anticipate your needs sooner. Forgive me."

She mumbled something completely inane under her breath, wishing he would just go away and leave her alone. It had been bad enough when the nuns tended her, but this was beyond enduring. She wanted him to think of her as a woman, not a helpless child.

"Sara…"

She heard the sound of his footsteps as he crossed the floor, and then he was kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his.

"Sara, look at me."

"I can't."

"It's a perfectly normal function of the body."

She felt her cheeks grow hotter.

"If you're going to stay here with me, you had best get used to my helping you."

"Stay here?" She looked up then. "Do you mean it?"

"If you wish it."

"Oh, I do."

"Good, then let's have no more foolishness." He swung her into his arms and carried her back to her bed. "Did you enjoy the poetry?"

"Yes, thank you. Thank you for everything. Especially for Carlotta." She caressed the doll's hair. Perhaps she
was
just a child, Sara thought, to be so overjoyed with such a gift.

"I've brought you something to eat," he said, and reaching into a box, he withdrew a steaming platter, placed it on a tray, and set it in her lap. "I hope you like it."

"It smells wonderful," Sara replied. "But aren't you going to eat?"

His gaze slid away from hers. "I've eaten."

"Oh." She didn't know where to begin. The plate was piled high with chicken in a creamy sauce, vegetables dripping with butter. There was a chunk of warm bread dripping honey.

He placed a glass of wine on the table, then inclined his head. "Enjoy your meal,
cara
."

Gabriel stood beside the fireplace,
gazing at
the flames, while she ate. The smell of the chicken sickened him, and yet he yearned to be able to sit beside Sara, to share the meal with her, as a normal man might have done.

He had not eaten solid food in centuries; indeed, the very thought made him physically ill. Fresh blood was his diet now, that and an occasional glass of red wine.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. She looked vibrant and alive. Cursed though he might be, his blood had saved her. The hideous burns and blisters had all but disappeared. In another day or two, they would be completely gone.

He stared into the flames again. Tomorrow… how long could he keep her here? How could he bear to let her go?

She'd been here but a day, and already his life was made richer. Caught in the web of sleep in his lair, he had felt her presence in the room above. For the first time in over three centuries, he had slept without feeling alone.

And yet, he couldn't condemn her to a life with him, a life that was no life at all. He couldn't let her spend her days in this dreary place, cut off from the rest of humanity, just so he could have the pleasure of her company at night, feel her nearness while he slept.

"Gabriel?"

He turned to face her, realizing she had been speaking to him for several moments. "I'm sorry,
cara
, did you say something?"

"I asked if you would share a glass of wine with me."

"Of course."

She watched him cross the room, his steps fluid, his cloak swirling out behind him. He moved like moonlight on water, she thought. It was as if his feet never touched the floor.

He refilled her glass and handed it to her. Smiling her thanks, she took a sip, then offered him the glass.

His dark gray eyes met hers as he turned the goblet in his hand, drinking from the place where her lips had been.

A quick heat uncurled within her as their eyes met. There was something sensual, erotic, in watching him, in knowing that his mouth was where hers had been only moments before.

She licked lips gone suddenly dry as his presence seemed to fill the entire room. The light of the fire danced in his hair, limning the ebony-colored strands with gold. The expression in his eyes grew intense, as if the heat of the flames burned within their depths. She studied the breadth of his shoulders, familiar with the latent strength that resided within him. He was dressed all in black, always in black.

He hadn't moved, and yet he seemed to be all around her, filling her senses, until all she could see or hear was Gabriel. All she could taste or touch or smell was Gabriel.

Her heart pounded within her breast, a low steady beat, like that of a distant drum.

She opened her mouth to speak his name, but no sound emerged save that of a sigh.

"
Cara
…" He took a step toward her, one hand stretched in entreaty. Clad in her long white gown, with the wealth of her golden hair falling over her shoulders, and the light of the flames reflected in the depths of her blue eyes, she looked like a madonna, an angel.

He folded his hand into a fist and clenched it at his side. She was an angel, he thought, and he was a monster who had no right to touch her, to want her.

He took a step backward, and she had the feeling that he was withdrawing from her, that there was more than distance separating them. The thought frightened her.

"Gabriel?"

"You should rest, Sara."

"I rested all day. Can't we go out?"

"Perhaps tomorrow night."

"Have I done something to displease you?"

"No!"

"Then what's wrong?"

"Nothing. You've been through quite an ordeal. You need to conserve your strength."

"But I feel fine." She looked up at him, a slight frown creasing her brow. "Why do I feel fine?" She stared down at her hands as if she'd never seen them before. "Why am I healing so fast? Gabriel, I'm frightened."

"Don't be." He took a step toward her, wanting, needing, to hold her, yet afraid to get too close, afraid he wouldn't be able to control the hunger her nearness aroused. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

"But the fire… Gabriel, it burned me. I…" She took a deep breath. "I should have died. I was dying. I remember hearing Sister Mary Josepha tell Sister Mary Louisa that my death would be a blessing. I remember Father Dominic standing over me, giving me last rites."

She gazed up at him, her eyes filled with confusion. "What happened to me, Gabriel? Why didn't I die?"

"I can't explain it,
cara
. Only trust me. Believe me when I tell you that there's nothing to fear."

But she couldn't help being frightened. All day, she had avoided asking herself these questions. In the light of day, she could pretend everything was all right, that nothing out of the ordinary had happened to her. But she couldn't pretend anymore. She'd been badly burned, but it didn't hurt. Already, the signs of injury were disappearing; in a few days they'd probably be gone.

A soft oath escaped Gabriel's lips as he saw the anguish, the confusion, in Sara's eyes. Two long strides carried him to her bedside. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to his chair and sat down, cradling her in his arms as if she were a child.

He gazed deep into her eyes, bending her will to his. "Go to sleep,
cara
. There is nothing to fear. Sleep,
cara mia
. Sleep…"

He felt the tension drain out of her as her eyelids grew heavy. Moments later, she was asleep.

With the power of his mind, Gabriel willed Sara to sleep throughout the next day.

He rose with the onset of dusk. Changed his clothes. Left the catacombs, bound for the orphanage.

Dissolving into mist, he entered the building that had been Sara's home for the past thirteen years. In all that time, he had never ventured into any room but hers. The acrid smell of smoke hung over the house.

He moved down the hallway, peering into the kitchen, the parlor. A large room filled with books and toys, easels and paints, was located at the end of the hallway. Inside, two nuns watched over a dozen children engaged in a variety of activities.

Instinctively, he passed by the chapel, and the small rooms where the nuns slept.

The upstairs was mostly bedrooms. The room above Sara's was only a blackened shell. Part of the floor had burned away; he could see where the flames had burned their way down the wall behind Sara's bed. It was a miracle she had survived, that she hadn't been burned even worse than she was.

He found several of the nuns gathered together in a small upstairs room, quietly discussing the fire, and the condition of one of the children who had been badly burned. He heard Sara's name mentioned several times.

And then Sister Mary Josepha entered the room.

"I spoke to Father Andre," she said. "He thinks I imagined the whole thing. But I didn't! I know what I saw." Tears welled in the old nun's eyes. "He took Sara Jayne," she said, her voice filled with despair. "That monster took her."

"Perhaps we should notify the police," one of the nuns suggested.

"What could they do against such evil?" Sister Mary Josepha shook her head. "They probably wouldn't believe me any more than the good father did."

"We must do something," another nun said.

"But what?" Sister Mary Josepha shook her head again. "I was powerless against him." She clutched the cross that dangled from a braided rope around her waist. "I've never felt such evil. Oh, my poor Sara, to be at that fiend's mercy."

An hour later, he entered the monastery. He freed Sara's mind from sleep as he locked the door behind him.

She was yawning when he entered the room.

Sara smiled at him uncertainly. "Where have you been?" she asked as he removed his cloak.

"I went to the orphanage," Gabriel replied, dropping his cloak on the foot of the bed. "How do you feel?"

"All right." She glanced away, afraid to ask questions, afraid of the answers.

"None of the sisters was badly hurt," Gabriel said, answering the unspoken question in Sara's eyes. "One child was badly burned. One died."

"Who?"

"I didn't ask her name."

Sara closed her eyes, murmuring a silent prayer for the child's soul, giving thanks that no other lives had been lost.

"Sara?"

She looked up at him through eyes shiny with unshed tears, grateful that the nuns who had cared for her had been spared.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded, blinking back her tears. "Does Sister Mary Josepha know where I am?"

Gabriel shook his head. "No, I didn't have a chance to speak to her. I learned of the fire from someone else. No one seems to know how it started."

"Do you think I could send her a message and let her know I'm all right?"

"If you wish."

"You never told me why you brought me here."

"Does it matter?"

She blinked up at him, confused by the peculiar light in his eyes, by the sudden warmth that suffused her. Of course it didn't matter, she thought; she'd rather be here, with him, than anywhere else.

"No, but…" She plucked nervously at the bed-clothes. "I can't believe I slept the whole day."

"You needed the rest."

She made a soft sound of assent. "And now I need to… you know."

With a nod, he carried her into the monk's cell, waiting in the corridor while she relieved herself. It would be so easy, he thought, so easy to mold her mind to his way of thinking, to make her long to stay with him always. He could arrange it so she would be content to sleep days so that she might spend her nights with him. What bliss, to keep her by his side, to watch her blossom into womanhood, to be the one to teach her of the ways between a man and a woman. It would all be so easy, but so wicked, because he wasn't a man at all…

A startled cry drew him quickly to her side.

"What is it?" he asked, glancing around.

"My legs, they feel so strange."

Gabriel frowned. "Strange?"

"They tingle, like someone is poking me with pins and feathers."

Dropping to his knees, he lifted her gown and ran a hand along her right calf.

"That tickles! Gabriel, I've never had any feeling in my legs before. What's happening?"

He rocked back on his heels, then shook his head. "I'm not sure."

Frowning, he carried her back to his chamber. Was it possible that the power of his blood had healed her infirmity? There was, he thought, but one way to tell.

Gently, he stood her before him, her feet touching the ground. "I'm going to let you go, Sara."

"No!" she clasped his shoulders.

"Only for a moment. Trust me." He relented a little when he saw the fear in her eyes. "Here, hold my hand."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with apprehension, as he took her hand in his, and then let his other hand fall away from her waist. She swayed unsteadily, but didn't fall.

"Gabriel," she breathed. "I'm standing."

He took a step back, his hand still holding hers. "Come to me, Sara."

She shook her head, afraid to move for fear of falling.

His gaze held hers, dark and mesmerizing. "Come to me, Sara. Don't be afraid. I won't let you fall."

"I can't." But even as she spoke the words, she was moving, sliding her left foot forward, shifting her weight, sliding her right foot up. One step. Two, and then she stumbled and fell into his arms.

He lifted her easily, holding her close to his chest.