“I never was interested in anyone else, Brice. I preferred your company, but it was friendship I felt, the love of a sister. I often wanted to feel more, and when I thought about the future, I wished I could love you as you wanted me to, but I never loved any man other than Gabriel. I thought him dead to me, all these years, but I was not over him.”
“Why didn’t you ever mention him?” Brice demanded, sounding petulant again. “Not once did you even say his name. If we were such good friends, why didn’t you share with me such a terrible tragedy as losing your husband?” He spat the last word out distastefully. “I didn’t know you’d ever been married to anyone.” He was moving faster, now, taking the lead, pushing his way over the small rock wall to hurry along a little-used path leading to the mausoleum.
“I never spoke of him to anyone, Brice. It was too difficult.” That was the truth. Even her mother had never known about that small incident in the village so many centuries earlier. When her family had been wiped out in the wars, she had fled the Carpathian Mountains, making her way to Paris, where she learned to hide herself from her people. Tears shimmered unexpectedly in her dark eyes, the memory of that time still raw. She blinked them away and followed Brice along the winding trail.
“I wasn’t just anyone, Francesca. I was your best friend. But you always held a part of yourself away from me. No matter how hard I tried, I never could get close to you.”
She hated that whiney note in his voice and that made her feel guiltier than ever. He had every reason to feel bad about what had happened between them. She had thought about spending her remaining years with him. She ducked her head, her long hair falling in a cascade around her face. “I didn’t mean to lead you on, Brice. I hope you believe that. I tried to be honest with you, but there were times when I seriously thought about becoming involved with you. Because I was considering a relationship with you, I must have been inadvertently sending you messages that we might eventually be together. That was very wrong of me, but I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He turned his head for a moment, fury in his eyes. “That doesn’t take away what I feel, Francesca, or absolve you of guilt.”
She sighed. He seemed to be going back and forth between recrimination and genuinely wanting to retain their friendship. “Perhaps it is too soon for a conversation like this one. Maybe we should wait a few weeks until you can see I never would have been right for you, I never would have felt the way you wanted me to feel.”
“We’ll never know that for sure, will we?” he said. He was moving rapidly through the graveyard, moving away from the newer headstones into an older part of the cemetery where the stones were so ancient, they were crumbling and gray from the effects of weather.
Francesca slowed her pace. “Brice, do you have any idea where you’re going or are you just walking as fast as you can because you’re so angry with me?” She could hear the blood pumping furiously through his heart, the rush of adrenaline coursing through him as he moved.
He caught her wrist and yanked, a snarl twisting his handsome features. “Come on, Francesca, hurry up.”
She moved with him a few steps, deliberately touching his mind as she did so. At once she was afraid. There was nothing in his mind except the overwhelming desire to get her to a certain place at the far side of the cemetery. He was willing to use any method, from cajoling her or humoring her, to brute strength. His need to get to this place was so strong, it blocked out everything else.
“Brice,” she said very softly, “you’re hurting me. Please let go of me. I can walk all by myself.” He needed help desperately. Whatever was wrong with him, whether he had been shadowed by a vampire, or was using drugs, or was on the verge of a mental breakdown, Francesca wanted to help him. She feared for him now, more than for herself. There was something terribly wrong with him and she was determined to heal him.