Embrace the Night

Page 211



With a sigh of contentment, she fell asleep in his arms.

He held her throughout the night, his body warmed by her nearness, his fingers threading through the silky softness of her hair, caressing the curve of her shoulder, the side of her breast.

She dreamed of him, and he knew her dreams. They were Sara's dreams, parts of Sara's life. But only the good parts.

He held her until dawn crept over the horizon.

Leaving the bed, he covered her with the quilt, kissed her lips, then gathered up his clothes and left the room.

Never had the cellar seemed so cold, so empty. Never had the hours until dusk seemed so far away.

As he settled down to take his rest, his last thought was of Sarah. Her scent clung to him; the taste of her lingered on his tongue. In his mind's eye, he saw her sleeping in the bedroom above, her lips swollen from his kisses, her hair spread over the pillow like a splash of molten gold.

"Sarah." He whispered her name as the darkness closed in on him, dragging him down into oblivion.
Chapter Five

It was late morning when she woke. Filled with a sense of well-being, she stretched, then sat up, wondering where Gabriel was.

Rising, she took a quick shower, and then, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, she padded downstairs. "Gabriel?"

She frowned, her confusion growing as she went from room to room. Except for the bedroom they had shared and the front parlor, none of the rooms were furnished. There was no table in the kitchen, no chairs, though there was food in the fridge.

But her curiosity was stronger than her appetite. She retraced her steps, staring, perplexed, into each room. He'd said he'd lived here for a few months. Surely a man who drove a $70,000 sports car could afford to buy a few pieces of furniture.

She couldn't shake off the feeling that the only room that had ever been lived in was the parlor. Nor could she shake the feeling that Gabriel was here, somewhere in the house. But if that was true, why didn't he answer her?

"Gabriel?" She stood in the hallway, her hands clutching the towel. "Gabriel! This isn't funny."

With a sigh of exasperation, she went upstairs. She was about to put on the clothes she'd worn the day before when her gaze fell on the wardrobe.

You'll find clothes in the armoire, he'd said.

She hesitated a moment, then opened the doors, her eyes widening with wonder. There were dresses, blouses and sweaters, jeans and slacks, pumps and sandals, all obviously selected with her likes and