look of it. The vines had gone wild, climbing over the trellis and spreading around the house. The windows were dirty; the chimney was in disrepair.
"Maybe we shouldn't go any closer," Maurice said.
"Don't be silly. We've come this far. I'm going inside."
Resolutely, she approached the cottage, then walked around to the back until she came to the window Maurice had broken. She could see several dark brown stains on the sill, and she shuddered, knowing it was from the cut on Maurice's hand.
Picking up a rock, she broke away the last shards of glass from the frame. Then, lifting her skirts, she started to climb over the sill.
"Wait." Maurice laid a restraining hand on her shoulder. "You'll ruin your skirts. I'll go through the window and open the front door."
"Very well," Sara agreed.
Moments later, the front door opened with a loud creak and Sara stepped into the cottage. The room she found herself in was empty, but she thought it might have once been rather nice.
Holding her skirts away from the floor to keep them clean, she walked toward the next room. She could hear Maurice following her, his footsteps hesitant.
She walked through each room, and then turned to confront Maurice. "There's nothing here. I don't think anyone's lived here for years."
"Don't you feel it?"
"Feel what?"
With a shake of his head, Maurice grabbed Sara's hand and led her down the cellar stairs. As soon as they reached the door, he felt the short hairs rise along the back of his neck.
"Don't tell me you can't feel that?" he exclaimed.
"I'll tell you what I feel," Sara retorted. "I feel silly for listening to you."
"He's behind that door," Maurice said. "I know it."
"That's ridiculous. Gabriel's a wealthy man. What would he be doing here, in this old place?"
Yet even as she spoke the words, she remembered the deserted abbey in London.
"Put your hand on the door and tell me what you feel."
Filled with a sudden sense of unease, Sara placed her hand on the door. And in that instant, she knew Maurice was right. Gabriel was behind that portal. She could feel his presence as strongly as she felt Maurice's hand on her shoulder.
But it wasn't a sense of evil that assailed her, but rather a sense of confusion and doubt. Why was he here?
"Gabriel?"
Be gone!
Itwas his voice, loud and clear in her mind. And in that moment, she didn't want to know why he was there, didn't want to know what secrets he was hiding.
"Do you feel it?" Maurice asked.
"No. Let's go."
"What's wrong?" Maurice asked. His fingers closed around the crucifix in his jacket pocket. It was large and costly, made of solid silver. "Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"
"We have a rehearsal this afternoon. I want to have time to eat lunch first. Come along, Maurice, there's nothing scary here."
He followed her because he was eager to be away from the place, but he didn't believe her words for a minute. She had felt something, and whatever it was had drained the color from her face.
He rose as soon as the sun had set. After drawing water from the well behind the cottage, he bathed, then changed his clothes and packed a few of his belongings.
With preternatural speed, he made his way into town and secured lodgings at the best hotel Paris had to offer. After unpacking his clothing, he ordered a bouquet of flowers and a midnight supper for two, and then he left the hotel.
For an hour, he walked the streets. For Sara, he would reenter the mainstream of humanity. He would take her to parties; he would take her dining and dancing, though he would have to be careful to avoid mirrors and other reflective surfaces. If she wished, he would accompany her to London when the company left Paris.
He sat in his usual box during her performance, mesmerized, as always, by her beauty. She moved with an inherent grace that was enchanting. Each step, each movement of her hand, each facial expression, was perfection.
And Maurice... Gabriel let his gaze rest upon the young man. What was he going to do about Maurice? The man didn't know anything, and yet he suspected far too much. Gabriel's first instinct was to kill Delacroix, but that he could not do. Sara liked the young man. But for her affection, Maurice would be dead even now.
Muttering an oath, Gabriel dismissed Maurice from his mind and lost himself once again in the magic that was Sara Jayne.