life mate’s family,” he added. “I was expected to attend and really shouldn’t have left when I did, but I was desperate to see you again. You were too young to claim, but I could look and torture myself with what I could not yet have.”
Meeting her gaze, he said, “You do not know how badly I just wanted to touch you. I wanted to brush my fingers down your cheek and feel if your skin was as soft as it looked. I wanted to tangle my hands in your hair and press it to my nose to see if it was what smelled like flowers, or if that was a scent you wore. I wanted . . . so much,” he almost moaned and then shook his head. “But I dared not touch you. You were far too young.”
Sighing, he muttered, “I should have sent you to a convent or somewhere else until you were old enough to claim. Failing that, I should have at least stayed away from you. But every time my daughter had a party and you walked home alone I was there to walk with you, trying to engage you in conversation.” He grimaced as he added, “You were a very shy child and hardly responded to my questions at all.”
Ildaria frowned at the description. “I was quiet because I was uncomfortable with you. I could sense that you wanted something from me, but—” She shook her head.
“You sensed my obsession and need for you and it scared you,” he said with a nod, and then, his expression and voice achingly sincere, he said, “I am sorry, Corazon. I handled everything in the worst possible way. I should have read your grandmother to learn more about your past. Had I known of the abuse you suffered as a small child, I would have handled things differently. But I did not know, and I longed to be close to you despite it being a torture to me. So, I kept making Ana hold parties for business associates and high-ranking immortals, just so that you would have to walk home alone, and I would have an excuse to accompany you.”
He bowed his head briefly, and when he lifted it again, his expression was grim. “And then one such day, you did not come out to make the walk home. I waited an hour, and then I decided that you must have stayed to help your abuela with the cooking, and gave up. By that time, guests were arriving, so I went in to the party. It was only after the meal that I was able to get away to the kitchens. I was hoping just to catch a glimpse of you, but you were not there. Confused, I read your grandmother and learned that you had gone to a birthday party directly from school. I went back to the party, but could not get you from my mind and finally made an excuse to leave early.
“I had gained the address of this party from your abuela, and so I went there. I thought just to check on you, perhaps watch from a distance to be sure you got home all right. But it was over when I got there. So I went to the home you shared with your abuela, but there were no lights on. You were not home.”
“We had gone to the cantina where Emilita’s brother worked,” Ildaria whispered.
“Si,” he said sadly. “I learned that when I returned to your friend’s house. The parents thought you had all gone to Emilita’s cousin’s house so that she could play her guitar for you while the parents stayed at her house. But her little sister knew the secret and I eventually read it from her. Of course, then I hurried to the cantina. I intended to drag you out and give you hell for behaving so badly when your grandmother had trusted you. And for taking such risks when the Haitian soldiers were everywhere, raping our women and—” He paused abruptly when she flinched and then ducked his head, his hands clenching. But after a moment he continued.
“I heard you cry out, begging someone to stop as I approached the cantina. I followed the sound around to the alley in back. And when I saw those two men attacking you . . .” He shook his head, his expression tightening with remembered fury. “I have never been so enraged in my life . . . or so