She had never seen him during the day... But surely a man of Gabriel's wealth was extremely busy. Even on the Sabbath? taunted a small voice of doubt.
With a shake of her head, Sara thrust her troubling thoughts aside, refusing to give heed to Maurice's foolish accusations. Gabriel was no more evil than she was!
He was waiting for her outside the opera house that night. She studied him carefully as they walked the short distance from the theater to her apartment. Elegant was the first word that came to her mind. As usual, he was dressed in black evening clothes. His linen was snowy white; his cravat impeccable. His cloak was as black as the night, and she had the sudden fanciful notion that Gabriel was a part of the night, dark and mysterious. He moved with an unusual gracefulness for such a big man; his steps were incredibly light, as if his feet hardly touched the ground. She would have given anything to be able to move like that.
Her gaze moved to his face. Just looking at him made her smile. He was so handsome. The burns that had once marred his smooth flesh were gone as if they had never existed. There was a ruddy glow to his cheeks. His hair was the color of midnight, his eyes as gray as the storm clouds swirling overhead. And his lips... ah, those lips that kissed her with such mastery, such passion.
She felt an odd little quiver in her stomach as his hand tightened on her arm. Soon, she thought, soon he would kiss her again.
"You're very quiet this evening," Gabriel remarked as they reached her door. "Is something wrong?"
"No. I was just wondering..."
He lifted one thick black brow in question as they entered the parlor. "Wondering?"
She crossed the room and lit one of the lamps. "If we were going to make love tonight."
She turned to face him, and he thought he had never seen anything as lovely as Sara Jayne Duncan, with her guileless sky-blue eyes and her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
He lifted a lock of her hair and let it fall through his fingers. "You've not grown tired of me then?"
"Oh, no."
"Ah, Sara," he murmured, "your innocence humbles me."
"Hardly innocent anymore," she replied with a saucy grin.
"Indeed." His voice was quiet, filled with self-reproach.
"Gabriel! You're regretting what we've done again, aren't you?"
"No."
She lifted her chin so she could see him better, her hands fisted on her hips. "You're lying. If I don't regret it, I don't know why you should."
"You're too - "
She stamped her foot angrily. "Don't you dare tell me I'm too young!"
"I won't." He cocked his head to one side, his eyes alight with amusement. "Is your temper tantrum over?"
"I'm not having a temper tantrum. I'm simply tired of being treated as if I were a child. Look at me, Gabriel. I'm a woman, with a woman's needs, a woman's desires."
"You are indeed," he murmured. "Sometimes it's hard for me to remember that you're all grown up."
"Maybe this will help you remember," she suggested, and throwing her arms around his neck, she kissed him.
There was nothing childish about her kiss, he admitted. Nothing at all. He felt the taste of her spread to all his senses as desire flared between them, more potent than brandy, hotter than a thousand suns.
She moaned softly, pressing herself against him, and he had no thought to deny her.
He removed his cloak and her pelisse and dropped both over a chair; then, taking her by the hand, he led her into the bedroom. With exquisite tenderness, he undressed her, the heat in his eyes chasing away the chill of the room. She was vaguely aware that it was raining. Lightning flashed across the sky; there was a dull rumble of thunder.
Gabriel's gaze held hers as he undressed, and then he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed, stretching out beside her.
She looked like a porcelain angel, he thought, a seraph newly fallen to earth, her eyes the color of the daylight sky he had not seen in more than three hundred years, her hair the color of the sun at midday.
He pressed a finger to her lips when she started to speak. And then, as if she were made of delicate crystal that might shatter at any moment, he made love to her. His hands moved over her, barely touching her skin, yet her whole body sprang to life, quivering, reaching,