and limber instead of tightened into knots. And when only inches separated them, they began to move. To the side. Backward. To the side. Forward. Angling in such a way that they traveled in slow circles. Every once in a while he would step back and raise their clasped hands, encouraging her to walk a slow twirl beneath them before returning to his embrace.
And his gaze always held hers, making her feel as if she was the most beautiful and most loved woman in the world.
Tonight he even sang, his deep voice joining Nat King Cole’s in professing her unforgettable as they danced beneath the moonlight. It was magical.
He was magical.
“I’m so in love with you,” she murmured.
Smiling, he swiveled slightly and lowered her in a gentle dip. “You’re the love of my life, Emma.”
She had never been happier than in that moment.
Once the song ended, Nat King Cole began to croon “Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup.” Then “Pretend.” “For Sentimental Reasons.”
And when at last they abandoned the dance floor and went inside, Cliff made love to her with aching tenderness, then with a playfulness that sparked laughs and chuckles as well as gasps of ecstasy, then once more with a tenderness that stole her heart all over again.
Afterward, instead of spooning, they lay facing each other, their limbs entwined, and talked softly, laughing and teasing. Instead of tightening with tension, his muscles remained relaxed. Instead of darkening with frustration and anger as he struggled to combat the voices in his head, Cliff’s beautiful face lit with frequent smiles.
He was captivating. He was loving. He was everything she’d ever wanted.
Emma wished the night would never end.
Alas, dawn waited for no man. So they dressed quietly and headed for the door. Leaning into him, Emma touched her lips to his. “I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
Cliff kissed her again, pouring so much emotion into the contact that it brought tears to her eyes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He pressed his forehead to hers, a gentle smile touching his lips. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Emma. Don’t ever forget that.”
A sense of foreboding infiltrated her.
He stepped back.
“Cliff?” she asked, afraid all of a sudden. Reaching out, she took his hand.
Still smiling, he brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I have to go. The sun will rise soon.”
But when he turned away, she didn’t let go. She couldn’t. Her heartbeat picked up. “Cliff,” she repeated.
“Bastien’s waiting,” he reminded her as he carefully tried to extricate his hand.
Emma shook her head. Something was wrong. She could feel it.
Her mind raced, reviewing their evening together.
Everything he’d said. Everything they’d done. Every minute of it.
It had been perfect.
It had been too perfect.
When Cliff managed to free himself, she ducked around him, planted herself in his path, and refused to let him leave.
He closed his eyes. “Emma,” he protested softly.
And there it was, a flicker of finality in his expression that terrified her.
Raising her hands, she cupped his face. “Cliff, look at me.”
He opened his eyes.
Hers filled with tears, those born of both anguish and denial. “You’re telling me goodbye,” she choked out. “That’s what this has all been about. The flowers and the dinner and the dancing.” The aching tenderness with which he’d made love to her. “You’re going to die today, and you’re telling me goodbye.”
His silence betrayed his guilt.
Releasing him, she shook her head and backed away. “Why?” He seemed so well tonight. Like his old self. She knew it wouldn’t last. His lucid moments never did. But… if he could still have nights like this, didn’t that mean there was still hope?
She couldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up.
Sadness darkened his beloved features. “I wanted one more night with you,” he acknowledged. “I needed one more night with you and—”
“But you’re better,” she blurted. “You were smiling and laughing. You didn’t mutter to yourself or pace or shout at the voices once. And Todd said you did great the night of the battle, that you were a true hero.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t make up for the fact that I almost killed an immortal female.”
Damn it. He did remember that. “But you didn’t kill her. And you saved lives the night of the battle. Doesn’t that count for anything?”
A weary sighed escaped him. “Sweetheart, you knew this was the way our time together would end. You’ve always known it. Please don’t make this harder than it already is.”