Embrace the Night (15 page)

"There is noting wrong with me in the way you mean. It's only that you're so young."

"Are you going to bring that up again? Would you like me better if I were old and wrinkled? Shall I lock myself in a tower somewhere until you think I'm of the proper age?"

He laughed then, a deep masculine laugh filled with humor. She had never heard him laugh like that before, had rarely seen him smile. It transformed him, making him seem younger, more approachable.

Gabriel held out his arms. "Come to me, Sara."

She went to him without hesitation, burrowing into his embrace, her face pressed to his chest. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, surrounding herself with his scent, his touch. His lips moved in her hair as his hands gently stroked her back, her shoulders. And then, muttering an oath, he swung her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.

His hands, those large hands which could have easily torn her in two, trembled as he placed her on the bed and undressed her, but Sara hardly noticed, for she was trembling too, with trepidation, with anticipation. His eyes blazed with desire as he quickly shed his own clothing, then stretched out on the bed beside her and drew her into his arms.

"You must tell me if you want me to stop," he said, his voice husky. You must tell me if I hurt you, or frighten you."

"Frighten me?"

"I've wanted you since the day I watched you change from a wide-eyed little girl into a beautiful young woman," he confessed. "Wanted and waited. If my passion frightens you, you must tell me."

Sara nodded, though she didn't fully comprehend his meaning. She knew little of what went on between a man and a woman, only what she had read in books. Hardly an education, she thought, for the books always ended with a chaste kiss and happily ever after.

But there was nothing chaste about Gabriel's kisses. They roared through her like wildfire, burning out of control, igniting tiny flames wherever his mouth touched her flesh.

She clutched him to her, her nails raking his back and shoulders, fearful of the turbulent emotions that smoldered inside her, yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

He whispered to her in French, in Italian, speaking words of love and quiet assurance as his hands added fuel to the fire.

Emboldened by his caresses, she let her hands wander over him, her fingertips restless, inquisitive, as they learned the texture of his skin, felt the powerful muscles that bunched and relaxed beneath her questing hands.

She felt him shudder at her touch, heard him gasp. With pleasure, she wondered, or pain? But she couldn't stop touching him. His skin was hot beneath her palms, his breathing erratic. And she was smothering in his heat, gasping for air.

She knew a moment of fear as he grabbed both her hands in one of his, imprisoning them above her head as he rose over her. She stared up at him, her heart pounding furiously.

In the dim light of the room, he seemed larger than life. His hair fell over his shoulders like a dark cloud; his eyes were turbulent, like the sky before a storm.

His eyes… surely it was a trick of the candlelight that caused his eyes to glow with that blood-red flame.

Gabriel saw the terror rise in her eyes, and knew that his own must be glowing with the hunger for blood. It took every ounce of his considerable self-control to keep from burying his fangs in her neck as he merged his flesh with hers.

Sara cried out, a low cry of pain, of fear, as their bodies came together. With a groan, he claimed her lips in a brutal kiss, and all thought fled her mind, swallowed up in the ecstasy that exploded deep within her, sending frissons of delight coursing through every inch of her body.

She was his now, she thought exultantly. Only his. He would never leave her, never send her away again.

"Sara, are you all right?" he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

She uttered a languid moan of assent, a soft feminine sound that indicated she had been thoroughly pleasured.

Elation bubbled up inside Gabriel. He had claimed her body without damning her soul. For the first time in centuries, he felt like a man instead of a monster. It was a glorious feeling, but all too brief, for hard on the heels of exhilaration came a deep sense of regret, an aching sense of remorse because he knew deep in the empty recess of what had once been his heart that he had defiled something pure and clean.

She felt the change in him, the sudden sense of withdrawal. With a low cry, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

"Sara," he groaned, "what have I done?"

"I love you, Gabriel," she whispered fervently. "Please don't spoil this moment for me. Please don't say you're sorry for what happened."

A violent tremor racked his body. "Sara… hold me."

She heard the anguish in his voice, the threat of tears, and she clutched him to her. Holding him as tightly as she could, she wondered what darkness lurked in his past that could cause him such anguish. Sometimes it seemed he feared her touch as much as he craved it.

"Go to sleep, Gabriel," she murmured. "I'll keep your demons at bay."

"Ah,
cara
," he replied, his voice raw and edged with pain. "If only you could."

"Sleep, my angel," she crooned, and in moments she felt his body relax, heard the slow, even tenor of his breathing that told her he was, indeed, asleep.

He woke with a start, his flesh tingling with the awareness of dawn. Sara was lying beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

She stirred as he slid out of bed and began to pull on his clothes.

"What are you doing?" she asked sleepily.

"I must go."

"Why?"

"No questions,
cara
, remember?"

He dropped a quick kiss on her brow and ran from the room, bolting down the stairs and out into the street. The sky was still gray, but even as he ran down the street, he could feel the promise of a new day, the faint heat of the sun.

The memory of the burns he had received the last time he faced the sun spurred him on. With preternatural speed, he traveled through the narrow streets until he reached the abandoned cottage.

He released a long sigh when he was safe inside. Panting heavily, he made his way to the basement, thoughts of Sara uppermost in his mind as he climbed into the narrow box where he slept away the daylight hours.

Sara thought about Gabriel as she rehearsed later that day, wondering why he had left so abruptly. Every time someone entered the room, she glanced up, hoping it would be Gabriel.

Later, back in her apartment, she kept expecting him to appear, but late afternoon faded to early evening, and he still didn't arrive.

Had she done something wrong?

She was a bundle of nerves when she arrived at the theater. Twice, during her warm-up, she forgot the steps, and for the first time ever, she didn't feel like dancing.

She took the stage reluctantly, knowing her performance would be less than perfect. And then she saw him, sitting in the front row, and it was as if she had suddenly grown wings.

As she had once before, she danced only for Gabriel, and when the performance was over, the audience gave her a standing ovation. But she heard only Gabriel's applause, and it was the sweetest sound she'd ever known.

Hurrying to her dressing room, she quickly changed into her street clothes. She was on her way out of the building when Maurice caught up with her.

"You were sensational tonight," Maurice said. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Gabriel's waiting for me."

Maurice swore under his breath as he caught hold of her arm and dragged her to a halt. "I don't want you seeing that man anymore."

Carefully and deliberately, she pried his fingers from her arm. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I will see who I want, when I want. And right now, I want to see Gabriel."

"There's something not right with that man," Maurice exclaimed.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure, but last night, when I looked into his eyes, I… I can't explain it except to say he's evil, Sara Jayne. Stay away from him."

"Evil! What are you talking about?" Sara demanded, yet even as she waited for his answer, an image appeared in her mind, an image of Gabriel's eyes glowing blood-red as he rose over her.

"Sara, listen to me…"

"No! I love Gabriel, and he loves me. Now leave me alone."

Maurice stared after Sara as she ran down the corridor toward the exit. Somehow, he had to save her from making the worst mistake of her life.

She was too excited to sit in a cafe, too happy to eat, so they went for a long walk in the moonlight, her arm tucked possessively through his.

Once, he paused in the shadows to kiss her brow and she wound her arms around his neck, hugging him close, shamelessly pressing her body against him.

"Gabriel, I…" Sara bit down on her lower lip, wishing she had the nerve to ask him to make love to her again. She was eager for his touch, but, knowing little of men, she wasn't sure if he was plagued by the same restless yearnings that kept her tossing and turning far into the night.

"What is it,
cara
?"

"I… nothing."

Gabriel gazed deep into her eyes and knew, in that instant, what she wanted. Wordlessly, he pivoted on his heel and headed for her apartment.

Inside, he closed the door, then held out his arms. With a small cry of relief, she stepped into his embrace, sighing as his arms wrapped around her.

"Is it terribly wicked of me to want you so?" she asked, refusing to meet his gaze.

"No,
cara mia
."

"I couldn't think of anything but you all day," she confessed shyly. "When you left so abruptly this morning, I was afraid I'd done something to displease you."

He shook his head, the anguish in her voice stabbing him to the heart.

"Will you have breakfast with me tomorrow?" she asked tremulously.

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"No questions, Sara."

"But…"

"I mean what I say."

"Will you dine with me tomorrow night then?"

He hesitated a moment, his eyes shadowed with doubt.

"I'm quite a good cook," she said, hoping to reassure him.

"I'm sure you are."

"You'll come to dinner then?"

"If you wish."

She gazed up at him, her blue eyes shining with happiness and love. "Won't you kiss me now?"

Slowly, gently, he lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his own. As always, holding her, touching her, filled him with light, driving away the darkness in which he had lived for so long.

Carrying her into the bedroom, he made love to her with exquisite tenderness, telling her with each heartfelt kiss, each stroke of his hands, each word that whispered past his lips, how much he adored her.

Her love enveloped him, surrounding him with the purity of her heart, the generosity of her spirit. She offered him her love, nothing held back, and he grabbed it with both hands, clinging to her goodness, telling himself that he couldn't be a monster, not when Sara could love him so completely.

He held her in his arms while she slept, his gaze never leaving her face. Her lashes lay like dark fans upon her cheeks. Her lips were full and pink, faintly swollen from his kisses. Her hair fell over the pillow and across his chest like streaks of sunlight. He lifted a lock of her hair and brushed it across his face, inhaling the scent, delighting in the touch of each silken strand.

"So beautiful, so innocent," he murmured, his voice thick with anguish. "Will you ever forgive me for what I've done?"

Her eyelids fluttered open and she gazed up at him, a soft smile curving her lips, her eyes aglow with the love in her heart.

"What have you done, Gabriel, that I should forgive you?"

"I've stolen your innocence," he whispered. "Taken that which I had no right to take."

Her hand reached up to caress the unyielding curve of his jaw. "You didn't steal it. I gave it to you."

"Ah,
cara
, you have no idea what you've done."

"I've made you happy," she said confidently. "Can you deny it?"

"No."

"I have no regrets," she said, her eyelids fluttering down. "None at all…" And for that one brief moment, neither did he.

He sat at the table, amazed at the abundance of food she had prepared—roast beef, potatoes smothered in a thick gravy, carrots swimming in butter, Yorkshire pudding. Surely she didn't expect the two of them to consume it all!

The very thought of swallowing even a forkful of cooked meat made him physically ill, but he kept his face impassive as she sat down across from him and lifted her glass.

"To us," she said.

"To us," he repeated, and touched his glass to hers.

To spare her feelings, he sampled everything she had prepared and lavishly praised her culinary efforts, and then, as soon as he could, he made an excuse to go outside, where he retched violently.

Breathing heavily, he drew in deep gulps of air, willing his tortured stomach to relax. For one doomed to subsist on a warm liquid diet, a meal of meat and vegetables was impossible to digest.

When he was again in control, he returned to the parlor. Sara was waiting for him, a curious look in her eyes, but for once she asked no questions.

They spoke of the theater, of the weather, which had been unusually clear, of her new understudy, and then, hesitantly, Sara blurted the question that had been troubling her.

"What if I become… with child?"

"You needn't worry,
cara
. I am unable to have children."

He watched the play of emotions flit across her face: relief at first, then sympathy, then regret.

"Do you wish to have a child?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. Someday…"

"And you shall."

"But how… I mean… I don't want anyone but you."

"I'm afraid you will soon tire of me,
cara
."

"
I
won't!"

"I think you will. In time, my way of life will begin to feel like a prison, and when that time comes, I shall let you go."