the man she loved." He paused a moment. "She died in 1940."
"You sound as though you knew her."
He seemed to move in slow motion as he turned around to face her. "I did."
"That's impossible."
A tight smile played over his lips. "Is it?"
"So," Sarah said, deciding to humor him. "Was she your slave or your equal?"
"She was my wife."
Sarah frowned. "But she died more than fifty years ago."
"Yes," he said, and his eyes were bleak, as gray as a winter sky. "In Salamanca."
Sarah shook her head. Maybe hewas the one who was crazy.
"I'm tired," she said. "I want to go home."
The coldness had penetrated her skin now, making her shiver in spite of the flames. She knew he was hiding something, something she didn't want to know.
Gabriel took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a weary sigh. "You are home."
She was truly frightened now. She searched her mind, trying to remember how one was supposed to deal with a lunatic.
"I'm not insane, Sarah, and neither are you. Search your mind. Let yourself remember."
"Remember what?"
"Who you are."
"I know who I am. What I don't know is who you are."
"You know me, Sarah. You've always known me."
"No," she said, tears of fright stinging her eyes. "Please, just let me go home."
"I can't. I can't lose you again."
"I'm not her! My name is Sarah Lynn Johnson. My eyes are brown, not blue. And I've never been to England or France or Spain."
"You were born crippled," he said. "I came to you at the orphanage. I read to you. I held you in my arms and we danced around the room. I took you to the opera..."
"To see Giselle." She shivered as the words whispered past her lips, as though someone had walked over her grave.
Gabriel nodded.
Sarah stared up at him, her expression one of disbelief and astonishment. "You took me riding on your horse. You sent me to France to be a ballerina. You saved my life when I was burned..."
He nodded again, his heart pounding as her memories surfaced.
"It was me. I was the one buried alive."
He saw the horror in her eyes as she recalled that night. Thinking to comfort her, he took a step forward, his hand outstretched.
"No!" She recoiled from his touch. "You're... you're a..." She shook her head, refusing to believe. "No, no, it can't be. This is all a dream, a nightmare."
His hand fell to his side. "Sometimes I wish it were." He let out a long, shuddering sigh. "The word you can't say is vampire. And it's true. It's what I am."
She shook her head again. He could hear the thundering beat of her heart, smell the fear that rose from her skin.
"You weren't afraid of me before," he remarked quietly. "Once, you even gave me your blood."
All the color drained from her face as she stared down at her wrist. "I remember." She spoke the words as though they had been forced from her lips. "You were in the cellar of an abandoned cottage and couldn't get out."
She lifted her gaze to his, but he said nothing, only stood there, his face impassive. She had never seen such stillness in another human being... only he wasn't human.
Vampire.
The undead.
Every Dracula movie she had ever seen rushed to the forefront of her mind. Will you be my slave or my equal? Did she really have any choice? If there was any truth to the movies, to the books she'd read, he could hypnotize her into doing whatever he wished. And now, with her gaze caught in the web of his, she believed it.
"Sarah, I'm not going to hurt you." He turned away, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his trousers. "I admit I brought you here tonight to bring you over... to take you by force if you wouldn't come willingly."
"Bring me over?"
"Make you what I am." Even though he wasn't looking at her, he could see the horror reflected in her eyes, feel the increased rhythm of her heart as fear swept through her. "You needn't worry," he said wearily. "I've changed my mind."
"You loved her very much, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you make her a... a vampire?"
"She didn't want it."
He stared at her a moment, his gaze deep and mesmerizing, until she was hopelessly lost.
When she came to herself again, she was at home, sitting on the sofa with the blanket draped across her lap.
"Good-bye, Sarah," Gabriel said quietly. "I won't bother you again."