this place after the sun went down, but Gabriel had no fear of the dark, or of mortal man.
The park was beautiful in the moonlight. A faint breeze whispered through the leaves, singing songs to the night. Drifting shadows played hide-and-seek with the light of the moon.
He sensed the man's presence as they drew near the small pond located at the far reaches of the park.
"Your purse, monsieur," the man said. Moonlight glinted off the blade of the knife in his hand.
"I'm afraid my purse is empty," Gabriel said coolly.
The man's gaze moved over Gabriel in a long, assessing glance, noting the high quality of his clothing, his expensive leather boots, the fine wool of his cloak.
"I think not," the brigand said with a sneer. He made a threatening gesture with his knife. "Give it over, now."
"No."
The thief lunged forward, but before he could strike, Gabriel's hand closed over the man's forearm in a viselike grip.
Sara gasped at the look of horror that flickered in the man's eyes as Gabriel's hand inexorably tightened around his wrist and the knife fell from nerveless fingers.
She felt a rush of nausea at the sound of the bones being slowly, deliberately crushed. The blood drained from the man's face; a shrill scream of agony bubbled in his throat as tears welled in his eyes.
"Mercy, my lord," the man begged. "Please..."
"Gabriel, let him go!"
Gabriel's back was toward her, and she saw him stiffen at the sound of her voice, as if he had suddenly remembered she was there, watching.
Taking a step forward, Sara placed her hand on his shoulder. "Please, Gabriel, please let him go."
Abruptly, Gabriel released his hold on the brigand's arm and the man fell to his knees, his ruined arm cradled against his chest.
"Don't come here again," Gabriel said, and taking Sara by the hand, he led her back toward the street.
"I've got to stop," she said weakly, "Please, I'm..."
"Sara, what is it?"
"I'm going to be sick."
Gabriel wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her as she retched.
When the spasm passed, he wiped her mouth with his handkerchief, then swept her into his arms and carried her home. And all the while he was berating himself for behaving so savagely in her presence. Why hadn't he simply given the man his purse? Certainly he could afford the loss of a few francs.
When they reached Sara's apartment, Gabriel put her to bed, fetched a glass of water to rinse her mouth, and then fixed her a cup of hot tea heavily laced with brandy.
"Better?" he asked when she set the empty cup aside a few moments later.
Sara nodded, then glanced away. She could still hear the awful sound of the man's bones breaking as Gabriel crushed his wrist. The memory of it sickened her even as she marveled at Gabriel's superhuman strength.
Superhuman. She remembered Maurice's words: There's something not right with that man, he had said. Can't you sense the evil that surrounds him?
Sara looked up into Gabriel's face, gazing deep into his eyes, but it wasn't evil she saw reflected in the smoky gray depths, only love and concern.
"What is it, cara?" he asked. "What troubles you?"
"That man... you broke his wrist as if it were made of kindling."
"I was angry."
Sara shook his head. "It was more than that."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I don't know. I... it was awful."
"I'm sorry you had to see it." Bending, he brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "Go to sleep, Sara."
"Gabriel..."
"No questions, tonight, cara. You need to rest."
"But..."
His gaze caught and held hers. "You're tired, Sara Jayne," he said, his voice low and hypnotic. "Go to sleep. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," she repeated drowsily, and then her eyelids fluttered down and she was asleep.
He sat beside her as long as he dared, and then he left the house.
Maurice waited in the shadows across from Sara's house, listening as a distant clock chimed the hour. Five A.M.
Shivering in the chill air, he shifted his weight in the saddle, wishing he had thought to wear gloves.
He had just decided to call off his vigil when the door to Sara's apartment opened and a dark shape descended the stairs and blended into the night.
"You won't get away from me this time," Maurice vowed.
And filled with a sense of purpose and determination, he touched his heels to the horse's flanks.
Lost in thought, his steps uncharacteristically slow and heavy, Gabriel made his way toward the abandoned cottage. Sara wanted him to move in with her, and she wouldn't accept his excuses