Embrace the Night

Page 107



make a fine husband, yet she made excuses for not wanting to share her apartment with him, excuses that had never occurred to her when Gabriel had taken her in his arms.

Gabriel. She missed him, missed him more than she wanted to admit. She relived every moment she had spent with him, from the first time she had seen him on her balcony at the orphanage to the last night in his hotel room. She remembered being held in his arms while he danced her around the room, remembered the joy they had shared when she discovered she could walk.

She glanced at the ballerina doll Gabriel had given her. He had been kindness itself in those days at the abbey, buying her gifts, singing to her, caring for her. He had taken her to her first ballet, letting her see for herself that it was as beautiful, as wonderful, as she had imagined. He had taken her riding on his horse, letting her experience the stallion's marvelous speed and power. He had fulfilled her every wish, her every dream. The clothes in her closet, the food on her table, the very apartment in which she lived, were all possible because of Gabriel's generosity.

But, more importantly, he had made her feel loved, cherished. Even when she had been trapped in her wheelchair, he had made her feel beautiful, desired. It was a rare gift, the ability to make another feel important. Until she had met Gabriel, she had always felt as if she had been a burden, first to her family, and then to the nuns. But Gabriel had given her a sense of self-worth, and she knew that, even if she were still bound to her chair, he would still find her desirable.

He had given her something else, as well. He had allowed her to comfort him. Clearly she recalled the night in the park, when he had knelt at her feet and begged her to hold him, to comfort him. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she recalled the abject loneliness she had read in the depths of his eyes, his hunger for the gentle touch of her hand.

She loved him. Loved him with her whole heart, and nothing that had passed between them could change that simple fact. She loved him. And he loved her.

They'd been apart almost three weeks when Sara gathered her courage and went to his hotel. She had dressed with care in a long-sleeved white silk blouse and a pink skirt. She wore a wide-brimmed white hat trimmed with feathers and flowers, and a pair of white gloves.

Taking a last glance in the mirror, she left her apartment, her heart beating double-time at the thought of seeing Gabriel again.

She lifted her chin defiantly as she walked up the stairs to Gabriel's room, ignoring the disapproving glance she received from the hotel clerk. She knew he was probably thinking she was a harlot, since no lady deserving of the name would call on a man who was not a relative unless she was adequately chaperoned. But what she had to say to Gabriel was best said in private.

She knocked on his door twice, then stamped her foot. She should have known he wouldn't be here. He was never about during the day; in fact, she couldn't ever remember having seen him before dusk.

What didhe do all day that he was never available?

Frowning, she went outside and summoned a carriage to take her back to her apartment, and then, before she could change her mind, or question her reasoning too closely, she instructed the driver to take her to the cottage on the outskirts of town.