her associations, never to go anywhere alone. There were many men, both old and young, who tried to gain her favor. Some offered marriage, some offered wealth,a few offered both. And there were those who tried to take by force that which she would not willingly give. His wrath was their reward.
But he was not there the day she needed him most. Ignoring his advice, she had gone out to wander through the marketplace in the late afternoon. On her way home, she had been attacked. She had fought off her attacker but not before the man stabbed her several times. Badly wounded, she had tried to make it back to her lodgings and when she realized she wasn't going to make it, she had crawled into the underbrush alongside the road.
He had found her there shortly after sunset. Her face had been as pale as fine white linen, her garments soaked with her life's blood. For once, the sight and the scent of blood had no effect on his inhuman hunger. He had gathered her into his arms and held her close.
" Kiya."He called her name again and again, uniting her spirit to return, until, at last, her eyelids fluttered open.
"Dominic. "Her lips formed his name but no sound emerged.
"Do not leave me!" Using his teeth, he ripped open his wrist and held it to her mouth."Drink!"
But it was too late. She was too weak to fight for her life, too weak to swallow the life-giving liquid.
Her eyelids fluttered down.
He held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth, as she breathed her last. " Kiya, my best beloved one, I will find you again, I swear it."
And he had found her, again and again and again, only to lose her when death took her beyond his reach.
But no more.
"No more." He murmured the words as the sun climbed high in the sky, dragging him down into the dreamless depths of that sleep that was like death itself.
It was late afternoon whenTracy laid her brush aside and stood to stretch her back and shoulders. She had risen with the dawn, eager to put her dreams behind her, to lose herself in her painting. Her art had always been an escape from whatever problems were worrying her. She was in control at the canvas, her whole being focused on the intimate act of creation. This morning, she had not painted from any sketches or photographs; she had simply stood in front of a blank square of canvas and let her imagination take flight.
Now, she stared at her work in wonder. A tall, dusky-skinned woman danced across the canvas, her long hair shimmering around her shoulders. Her colorful skirts swirled around her ankles, revealing shapely calves. A bracelet of rubies and emeralds reflected the light of the candles that lit the tent. Men of all ages sat in a wide circle around her, staring avidly. And in the background, blending in with the shadows, stood a tall, dark man.
A man who looked very much like Dominic St. John.
But it was the woman who held her gaze. It was the woman she had dreamed of the night before. It seemed she was no longer able to separate her troublesome thoughts from her work, after all.
Pulling off her smock, she tossed it over the back of a chair and hurried from the room, her thoughts on Dominic. For the first time in two weeks, he hadn't sent her flowers with a note telling her where to meet him. Perhaps he had been called away on business, she thought, though she couldn't believe he would have gone anywhere without telling her beforehand. They had spent every night together since he sent her flowers the first time. Occasionally, she found herself wondering what he did during the day, why he never called her on the phone, why they never went out to lunch or dinner. After all, he had told her he was retired, so it couldn't be a job that kept him occupied during the daylight hours. Next time she saw him, maybe she would ask him to come over for lunch.
Needing to feel the sunlight on her face, she left the house and went down the long, winding stairs that led to the beach. Kicking off her shoes, she walked along the shore, enjoying the sound of the waves. Seagulls flew overhead, wheeling and diving. She saw a couple of seals frolicking out past the breakers.
She stopped to watch them for a