after almost two thousand years! He didn't know what had wrought the miraculous change that allowed him to endure the sun. Perhaps it was merely the passage of so many years; perhaps it was some internal change, but whatever it was, he didn't care. The joy of being able to feel the warmth of the sun, even through layers of cloth, to inhale the fragrance of a bright spring morning, was still new and exciting, and still filled him with awe.
Sometimes, when the sun was high in the sky, he yearned to shed all his clothes and run naked along the beach, to throw back his head and feel the sun on his face, but he knew that to do so would be fatal. He was not completely immune to the sunlight, only able to endure it for short periods of time.
But the fact that it was necessary to be cautious when he went outdoors was not worth lamenting. His newfound ability to face the daylight at all was a blessing he had never expected to obtain.
He had learned long ago to live within the boundaries his peculiar lifestyle imposed. Here, in this place, he had found contentment for the first time in centuries. He spent his days in lonely isolation, sleeping away the hours of the afternoon, walking the cliffs in the light of the moon. And during the evening, from six to nine, he opened the door to his house and took on the guise of an antique dealer.
In centuries of travel, he had accumulated a wealth of antiques. He would stay here for another ten or twenty years, until people began to talk about the fact that he never seemed to age, and then he would move on and find another house located in a remote place. Perhaps he'd be an antique dealer again. Perhaps not.
He felt the heaviness descend on him as the sun climbed toward its zenith. Turning away from the window, he ascended the narrow stairway that led to the attic. It was a large room with a sloped ceiling and an oak floor. A small oval window was set high in the far wall. He had boarded it up long ago.
Stepping into the room, he bolted the door and sat down on the edge of the big brass bed located in the far corner of the room. No damp cellars for him, he mused as he removed his shoes and socks, shrugged out of his shirt and pants. No morbidly confining silk-lined casket. He much preferred a firm mattress and clean sheets that smelled of soap and sunshine.
Naked, he slid under the covers. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and felt the lethargy of his death-like sleep steal over him. Just once, he thought, just once he'd like to fall asleep in the arms of a woman.
The sound of someone pounding on the front door roused him from a dreamless sleep.
Rising,Navarrepulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater and made his way downstairs. A glance out the window told him it was a few minutes after six.
He ran a hand through his hair, then opened the front door.
The woman stood on the porch. He had not seen her face clearly earlier; now, in a single sweeping glance, he saw that her eyes were a vibrant shade of blue, her nose was small and straight, and her mouth was full and sensuous. She wore her dark blond hair in a loose roll at the nape of her neck.
Adrianna couldn't help staring at the man who opened the door. She had expected an older man, someone in his late sixties, perhaps, but the man standing before her was in the prime of life. Handsome, virile, and so tall she had to tilt her head back to see his face.
And what a face! His eyes were a clear gray beneath straight black brows. His mouth was wide, his nose as sharp as a blade, his jaw square and firm. He wore a black sweater that emphasized his pale complexion. A pair of faded blue jeans hugged his long, muscular legs. His feet were bare. He had hair a woman would die for; thick and black, it fell past his shoulders.
"Mr.Navarre ?"
"Yes."
"I..." She swallowed, flustered by his intense gaze. She had the fleeting impression that if she looked into those fathomless gray eyes too long, she would lose her very soul. "May I... that is, are you open?"