"I brought Sara here," Gabriel said, rising, "and I will see her safely to her door."
He held out his hand and Sara took it without hesitation. "Good night, Maurice," she said softly.
"Sara..."
Gabriel fixed Maurice with a hard stare. "The lady said good night."
Maurice took a step backward, repelled by the coldness in the other man's eyes, by the sudden, unexpected sense of evil. With a last glance at Sara, he left the restaurant.
Sara smiled apologetically at Gabriel as they walked home a short time later. "I'm sorry he made a scene."
"He's smitten with you," Gabriel replied. "Anyone can see that."
Sara tilted her head back so she could see Gabriel's face. "And I'm smitten with you."
"Are you, cara?"
" I'vetold you so often enough. Don't you believe me?"
"I believe you."
They reached her apartment a short time later. Inside, he helped her off with her cloak, then shed his own as she lit the lamp, then turned to face him.
"Will you stay the night?" she asked.
"A bold question for a maiden," Gabriel mused with a wry grin. "Are you asking me to spend the night, or to make love to you?"
"Both," she answered, and knew she was blushing furiously.
"And if I refuse?"
The light went out of her eyes. Her shoulders sagged dispiritedly. "Are you going to refuse me again?"
"Sara..."
"Is it me?"
"No!"
"Then, is there something wrong with you? Some reason that you can't, or won't..." Her voice trailed off. She had no idea how to phrase her question delicately, and lacked the courage to ask it outright.
"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