in her heart.
"What have you done, Gabriel, that I should forgive you?"
"I've stolen your innocence," he whispered. "Taken that which I had no right to take."
Her hand reached up to caress the unyielding curve of his jaw. "You didn't steal it. I gave it to you."
"Ah, cara, you have no idea what you've done."
"I've made you happy," she said confidently. "Can you deny it?"
"No."
"I have no regrets," she said, her eyelids fluttering down. "None at all..." And for that one brief moment, neither did he.
He sat at the table, amazed at the abundance of food she had prepared - roast beef, potatoes smothered in a thick gravy, carrots swimming in butter, Yorkshire pudding. Surely she didn't expect the two of them to consume it all!
The very thought of swallowing even a forkful of cooked meat made him physically ill, but he kept his face impassive as she sat down across from him and lifted her glass.
"To us," she said.
"To us," he repeated, and touched his glass to hers.
To spare her feelings, he sampled everything she had prepared and lavishly praised her culinary efforts, and then, as soon as he could, he made an excuse to go outside, where he retched violently.
Breathing heavily, he drew in deep gulps of air, willing his tortured stomach to relax. For one doomed to subsist on a warm liquid diet, a meal of meat and vegetables was impossible to digest.
When he was again in control, he returned to the parlor. Sara was waiting for him, a curious look in her eyes, but for once she asked no questions.
They spoke of the theater, of the weather, which had been unusually clear, of her new understudy, and then, hesitantly, Sara blurted the question that had been troubling her.
"What if I become... with child?"
"You needn't worry, cara. I am unable to have children."
He watched the play of emotions flit across her face: relief at first, then sympathy, then regret.
"Do you wish to have a child?" he asked.
"Yes, of course. Someday..."
"And you shall."
"But how... I mean... I don't want anyone but you."
"I'm afraid you will soon tire of me, cara."
" Iwon't!"
"I think you will. In time, my way of life will begin to feel like a prison, and when that time comes, I shall let you go."
She frowned at him, not understanding. "What do you mean?"
"I like to keep to myself. I don't care for large groups of people, for parties. I like to dine alone." He covered her hand with his. "Forgive me, Sara, I didn't mean to hurt you. I enjoyed this meal with you very much, but the truth remains that I prefer to dine alone. My life is set a certain way, and I find it difficult to change, even for you."
"I'm not asking you to change anything," she said petulantly.
"But you are. Don't you see?"
"No." She stood up and turned her back to him. "I think you're tired of me already, that you're just trying to find a polite way to tell me good-bye without hurting my feelings."
She whirled around to face him, and she looked so young, so vulnerable, he ached inside. Tears shimmered in the depths of her eyes and sparkled on her lashes.
"Is that it? Are you tired of me so soon?"
Rising, he closed the distance between them and took her hands in his. "No, cara, I'm not tired of you. Should we spend a thousand years together, I would never tire of you. Believe that." He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed first one and then the other. "Perhaps I should go."
"No!" She bit down on her lip, and he could see she was trying to gather her composure, her dignity. "I mean, I'd like for you to stay."
"If you wish."
"I don't mean to be a burden to you."
"That you could never be. Come now, dry your eyes."
Obediently, she wiped away her tears.
"What can I do to make you smile again?" he asked indulgently. "Shall I buy you a pretty new frock? A bauble of some kind? Your own opera house? Tell me, cara, what would you like?"
"For you to love me."
"I do love you, Sara," he replied fervently. "I love everything about you."
"Show me?"
With a wordless cry, he swept her into his arms and lowered her to the floor. And there, on the colorful Persian rug in front of the hearth, he made love to her in such a way that she would never doubt his feelings for her again.
Maurice stood in the shadows across the street