Deeper than the Night - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,12
brought it all back the love they had shared, the happiness they had once known. She had named their daughter AnTares. AnTares, the only child he had ever fathered. The only child that would ever be born to him.
He stared at the computer screen, the words blurring before his eyes. He had not loved a woman since AnnaMara. There had been other women in his life, paid professionals who had eased his lust, but no special woman, none he dared trust with the reality of what he was.
Only now, after more than two hundred years, had he found a woman whose heart he wanted to win, a woman in whom he yearned to confide. But he dared not love her.
For her sake, he dared not love her.
Kara sat on the swing in the backyard, staring at the hills that rose to the east beyond Moulton Bay. As always of late, her thoughts were on Alexander. Where was he tonight? What was he doing? Did he spend his every waking moment thinking of her? Did he find himself suddenly staring into the distance, wondering what she was doing, thinking, wearing?
Seven weeks. Seven weeks since she had seen him last. She'd thought there had been something between them, a mutual attraction, but apparently she'd been wrong. Surely, if he had felt even half of what she still felt, he would have called. After four weeks, she had put her pride and good judgment aside and tried to call him, but the operator had informed her there was no listing for an Alexander Claybourne, or for A. Lucard.
She'd read all his books. Twice. The first time, they had frightened her. The second time, she had detected a common thread running through each story. No matter who the hero might be, he always carried a heavy burden or harbored a dark secret, and he was always a man alone, afraid to love, afraid to trust. A coincidence? A silent plea for help? Or was she just being fanciful?
Where was he? Why didn't he call? Why hadn't he come to see her? Why couldn't she stop thinking of him?
"Kara."
His voice, so soft that she wasn't sure if she'd actually heard it or if her mind was playing tricks on her because she wanted so badly to see him again.
"Kara."
Slowly, hardly daring to hope, she turned toward the sound of his voice. And he was there, a tall, dark figure silhouetted against the blackness of the night.
"Alexander."
Slowly, he moved toward her. A stray moonbeam washed him in silver. And then he was there, standing in front of her, as tall and broad-shouldered as she remembered. His hair, long and black and windblown, framed a strong, angular face.
"How have you been?" he asked.
His voice was as soft as a prayer, as intimate as a lover's caress.
"Fine," she replied. "And you?"
"Fine," he said. "As always."
"How's your new book coming along?"
"Slowly."
"Oh? Why?"
His gaze met hers, his dark eyes intense. "I've had other things on my mind."
"Oh." She felt suddenly breathless, as though someone had sucked all the oxygen from the air. "What things?"
"Kara . . ."
She leaned forward, waiting for his next words, hoping he would tell her that he had missed her, that he had spent his every waking moment thinking only of her.
He was watching her closely, his gaze fixed on her face. She could feel the heat of it, the power of it. At that moment, she would have told him anything he wanted to hear, done anything he asked. Though they weren't touching, it was almost as if he were stroking her hair, caressing her cheek.
And then he took a step back, releasing her from his gaze.
"Alexander." Her voice was shaky, uncertain.
"What do you want from me, Kara?"
"Want?"
"I've been much in your mind these past weeks."
Kara stared at him. How had he known that?
"I hear your thoughts. I feel your loneliness, your restlessness." He clenched his hands to keep from reaching for her. "What do you want of me?"
"I . . . nothing."
"You cannot lie to me, Kara. I know that your nights are long and that sleep brings you no rest. You've wondered why I have not called on you, wondered what I've been doing that would keep me away."
"How do you know these things? You can't read my mind. It's impossible."
"If there's one thing I have learned, Kara, it's that few things in life are impossible."
She looked away, embarrassed to know he had divined her innermost thoughts.