drew the sleeping gown over her head, trying not to stare at her softly rounded curves. He tucked her in, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then carried in the rest of the furniture. He spread the rug on the floor, placed the settee and the footstool in front of the hearth.
He put the table by the bed, then placed the chocolates and the book of poetry on top, within easy reach, along with a glass of water. The flowers added a touch of color to the drab room.
He filled a small basket with bread and cheese and fruit, covered it with a napkin, and placed it upon the table, as well.
He left the clothing in the boxes, anticipating her excitement when she saw her new finery. He put the doll within reach of her hand where she would be sure to see it upon waking.
For a moment, he stood in the center of the room, pleased with the changes he'd wrought. Amazing, what a rug and a few pieces of furniture could do, he mused. But it was the woman who gave the room life, the woman who drew him, her life force beckoning the revenant within him while her goodness, her innocence, enticed what little was left of the man he had once been.
Helpless to resist her, he knelt beside the bed and took her hand in his, wanting to be near her for as long as he could.
The fire burned brightly, but it was Sara's presence in the room that warmed him.
She woke slowly, still caught in the web of her nightmare, and then, as if someone had doused her with cold water, she remembered that it hadn't been a nightmare at all. There had been a fire at the orphanage.
All too vividly, she remembered waking up, her throat burning, her eyes stinging, as tongues of fire licked the edge of her bed. Unable to escape the flames, she had screamed until she was hoarse, sobbing for Gabriel, her angel, to come and save her. She remembered the awful horror that had coiled within her, the terrible certainty that she was going to die. And then the flames had touched her, licking at her skin…
She held up her arm and stared, disbelieving what she saw. The skin, which last night had been raw and red, was almost healed.
Throwing back the covers, she examined her chest, her legs, but saw only the glow of pink healthy skin.
It was impossible. A miracle. She lifted her hand, turning it this way and that, unable to believe the proof of her own eyes.
She frowned a moment, bemused to find herself clad in a modest white sleeping gown. A faint blush heated her cheeks as she realized that Gabriel had dressed her for bed, that he had seen her unclothed while she slept.
And then she saw the doll and she forgot everything else.
The ballerina was made of fine china, her face beautifully painted. Her eyes were big and blue, her lips a delicate rose. She wore a tutu of pale pink tulle; dainty pink ballet slippers covered her feet.
"Oh…" Reverently, Sara reached for the doll. It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. "Carlotta," she whispered. "I shall name you Carlotta."
Sara glanced around the room, hoping to see Gabriel. It was then she noticed the pretty little table beside the bed. Wide-eyed, she stared at the flowers, the book, the heart-shaped box of chocolates, the wicker basket covered with a linen cloth.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, she reached for the book, carefully turning the pages, and then she reached for the chocolates, her mouth watering.
Candy of any kind had been a rare treat in the orphanage. She quickly gobbled down two pieces, and then laughed. The whole box was for her, to eat at her leisure. She touched the flowers, her fingertips caressing the velvety petals. Flowers. No one had ever given her flowers before.
Feeling like a queen, she nibbled a third chocolate, then took a drink of water, wondering all the while where Gabriel was.
After a time, she drew the basket onto her lap and peeked inside to find a small loaf of honey bread, a wedge of cheese, grapes and apples.
Such luxury, she thought, to sit in bed and indulge. She spent the
He put the table by the bed, then placed the chocolates and the book of poetry on top, within easy reach, along with a glass of water. The flowers added a touch of color to the drab room.
He filled a small basket with bread and cheese and fruit, covered it with a napkin, and placed it upon the table, as well.
He left the clothing in the boxes, anticipating her excitement when she saw her new finery. He put the doll within reach of her hand where she would be sure to see it upon waking.
For a moment, he stood in the center of the room, pleased with the changes he'd wrought. Amazing, what a rug and a few pieces of furniture could do, he mused. But it was the woman who gave the room life, the woman who drew him, her life force beckoning the revenant within him while her goodness, her innocence, enticed what little was left of the man he had once been.
Helpless to resist her, he knelt beside the bed and took her hand in his, wanting to be near her for as long as he could.
The fire burned brightly, but it was Sara's presence in the room that warmed him.
She woke slowly, still caught in the web of her nightmare, and then, as if someone had doused her with cold water, she remembered that it hadn't been a nightmare at all. There had been a fire at the orphanage.
All too vividly, she remembered waking up, her throat burning, her eyes stinging, as tongues of fire licked the edge of her bed. Unable to escape the flames, she had screamed until she was hoarse, sobbing for Gabriel, her angel, to come and save her. She remembered the awful horror that had coiled within her, the terrible certainty that she was going to die. And then the flames had touched her, licking at her skin…
She held up her arm and stared, disbelieving what she saw. The skin, which last night had been raw and red, was almost healed.
Throwing back the covers, she examined her chest, her legs, but saw only the glow of pink healthy skin.
It was impossible. A miracle. She lifted her hand, turning it this way and that, unable to believe the proof of her own eyes.
She frowned a moment, bemused to find herself clad in a modest white sleeping gown. A faint blush heated her cheeks as she realized that Gabriel had dressed her for bed, that he had seen her unclothed while she slept.
And then she saw the doll and she forgot everything else.
The ballerina was made of fine china, her face beautifully painted. Her eyes were big and blue, her lips a delicate rose. She wore a tutu of pale pink tulle; dainty pink ballet slippers covered her feet.
"Oh…" Reverently, Sara reached for the doll. It was the loveliest thing she had ever seen. "Carlotta," she whispered. "I shall name you Carlotta."
Sara glanced around the room, hoping to see Gabriel. It was then she noticed the pretty little table beside the bed. Wide-eyed, she stared at the flowers, the book, the heart-shaped box of chocolates, the wicker basket covered with a linen cloth.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, she reached for the book, carefully turning the pages, and then she reached for the chocolates, her mouth watering.
Candy of any kind had been a rare treat in the orphanage. She quickly gobbled down two pieces, and then laughed. The whole box was for her, to eat at her leisure. She touched the flowers, her fingertips caressing the velvety petals. Flowers. No one had ever given her flowers before.
Feeling like a queen, she nibbled a third chocolate, then took a drink of water, wondering all the while where Gabriel was.
After a time, she drew the basket onto her lap and peeked inside to find a small loaf of honey bread, a wedge of cheese, grapes and apples.
Such luxury, she thought, to sit in bed and indulge. She spent the
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