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arrows of the third assault: her mind seeing him as if he
walked next to her again, gazing at her, smiling at her, so
proud of her, so in love with her.
But she could endure the barrage no longer.
With an anguished cry, Gaby opened her eyes.
At least she thought she opened them. But several
bewildered blinks later, she wondered why Marcus wouldn't
fade away. She still must be very ill, she concluded. She was
definitely still in hospital the dingy walls, trays, sheets and
even window were still in focus. Especially the window.
Through it shined the rare, clear light of an early Spring day.
It was just that Marcus wouldn't disappear from the scene.
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She didn't doubt why her imagination refused to give him
up. He sat there so breathtaking, so incredibly handsome. A
streak of sunshine fell over his newly-swarthy features. His
darker skin served a magnificent contrast to the dancing blue-
silver lights in his eyes, and the perfection of his ear-to-ear
grin.
He made her heart swell.
He made her heart break.
"Marcus," she whispered. Oh, she longed to reach to him,
to touch him, to feel him just once more. But the fear was
more powerful than that. Fear of shattering this mirage of a
moment.
"Marcus," she breathed again, voice wavering with her
grief. "Marcus, why can't I let you go?"
"Because I will never let you."
Well, that settled it. She absolutely still raged with fever.
Healthy people didn't let the voices of fantasies send
quicksilver light down to their toes. But bloody blazes; if this
was insanity, then she'd be infirm for the rest
Her piercing gasp echoed off the walls.
With her rebellious thoughts, she'd decided to reach for
him.
But then she'd touched.
Dear God.
She'd touched.
She sobbed. And she grabbed. She couldn't hold tight
enough; fingers digging into his flesh, hands wrapping around
his muscles; muscles so hard and warm
And real.
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"Marcus? Marcus!"
He laughed as she ran furtive fingers over his eyes, his
nose, his lips and jaw. He returned her ministrations, finishing
by tunneling a hand into her hair, pulling her close against
him, and kissing her as he never had before. A searing,
possessing, aching kiss.
A completely mortal kiss.
Inundated with joy, Gabriela reveled in his assault until
she tore away, unable to silence her questions any longer.
"How?" she fired, lips not working fast enough. "Why? Where?
Who? What happened?"
"Ssshh," he chuckled, ravishing her mouth with more
tender intent this time. "You need to get your rest." Then, in
a rough whisper as he laid her back against the pillows,
extending his own graceful, magnificent length next to her,
"There will be time for your answers later. There will be time
for everything. A lifetime's worth of everything. I promise."
But Gabriela, as usual, couldn't obey him at the expense of
her love. Through secretly-parted lashes, she peeked at him
once more, hardly daring to believe he was here beside her,
never to leave again.
But then a morning breeze wafted aside the room's
curtains, sprinkling petals of sunlight across the room, across
the commanding face and broad form of her dark angel.
And she did dare to believe.
Just as she knew Marcus had dared at the risk of
everything he was or ever would be.
Dared to believe in the power of love.
Dared to believe in its magical redemption.
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* * * *
[Back to Table of Contents]
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EPILOGUE
* * * *
"'Tis the most beautiful yet."
Marcus's murmur mingled with the sea wind in Gabriela's
ear. "You say that about every sunrise," she laughed in
return, snuggling tighter into the shelter of his embrace, "but
today, I may have to agree with you."
And she did. Today, the entire world seemed to have come
to life, even the ancient Cornwall cliff they stood upon, and
the newer but not by much watchman's house they'd just
left. Inside, they'd shared a pre-dawn breakfast of raspberry
tarts, hot coffee (one of Marcus's new mortal passions) and . .
. other blazing pursuits.
The cliff overlooked a spanse of restless waters, the foamy
crests reflecting the changing hues of the sky: vivid aqua and
orange played hide-and-seek with the shifting silvers and
sapphires of an approaching October storm.
Oh yes; she felt deliciously, delightedly alive. Deliciously,
delightedly mortal. Life was good.
Marcus's lips again nudged at her. "Aye. I agree."
She smiled. He chuckled. But the next moment, she
crunched a perplexed scowl. "Marcus, I don't understand
something."
"What?"
"How can you still do that? How can you still see into my
mind, even after you've become. . . . well . . . "
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"Normal?" he supplied, grinning.
"Yes. How can you do that, even though you're normal
again? All your other supernatural abilities and powers have
disappeared, but you can still read me like a Palladium
showbill."
He laughed softly again. "But I was nay supposed to
understand you so clearly to begin with, remember?" He
pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth. "Which actually
eliminates all but one answer," he continued so breezily
succinct, he'd apparently shared the answer with all the world
but her.
Gabriela curled exasperated fists into his shirt. "What?"
"Magic," he revealed, lingering over his kiss a little longer
this time. "The simple magic of me and thee, my sweet."
"Mmmm," she purred. "Now I'll agree with you . . . "
She was the instigator of their next embrace, which she
paced with langorous seduction. She reveled in feeling him
shake with the new sensation of mortal desire, even at her
tiniest touches. But she loved discovering parts of the ageless
Marcus that were still intact, such as the shudder she gave
him by simply dipping her mouth to his collar bone.
"Magic," she repeated when they finally, reluctantly pulled
apart. But she waited a careful pause before issuing her next
words. "So . . . is that what happened in my hospital room
last month?"
At that moment, a thick pewter cloud skudded across the
sun as if the man in her arms had retained specific
superhuman powers, and summoned the haze with his
thoughts. But Gaby couldn't determine that for certain.
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Marcus had suddenly found the moss on the rocks to be
terribly stare-worthy.
Audacious man. As if he thought she'd concede to such
paltry evasive maneuvers.
"Marcus," she persisted, "you . . . were not expecting to
survive that sunrise, were you?"
By jerking increments, he shook his head.
"But you came to the hospital to see me, anyway."
With the same taut difficulty, he nodded.
"Why?"
He lifted his gaze to hers once more. Like always, the
silver sheen there caught at the very center of her. Especially
this moment, as those depths hungrily took in every inch of
her face.
"Because I love you more than I do my own life."
The desire to kiss the man surpassed any such urge
Gabriela had known so far. But before she acted on the
yearning, Marcus emitted a short chuckle. "To think the
answer was simple as that," he murmured, "yet I never saw
it." He shook his head again; this time, with a bewildered
slant. "Nay," he amended then, "I was not meant to see it.
Not until now." He slipped a warm hand into hers. "Not until
you."
Gaby took no pain to disguise the extent of her confusion
now. "What are you talking about?" Invoking a favorite
private quip they'd adopted during the last few weeks of
intensive rehearsals, "Excuse me, Mr. Webber, I think I
missed a line." She appended in a grumble, "perhaps a whole
scene."
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by Annee Pfau [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]