Dark Legend. Christine Feehan. Dark Series – book 8

“I am sorry I put you in such a terrible position.” His voice was sincere, contrite. He looked sad, his mesmerizing eyes revealing his inner turmoil.

Francesca touched his mind; she couldn’t stop herself from doing so even though she was secretly ashamed of herself for doubting him. She needed to know whether he was speaking the truth or saying what he thought she wanted to hear. She examined his mind carefully. She was nowhere near his age, nor did she have his skills and power, but she was no fledgling to be tricked. Gabriel felt genuine sorrow for his part in causing her loneliness. He knew he could not change what he had done—too many would have suffered—but he wished it could have been different. He had been alone in a stark black void. With each kill the darkness had spread over his soul, forever seeking to claim him. It had been an endless battle.

Francesca gasped when she realized he had almost lost the war with the beast. It had occurred around the same time she had made her decision to attempt to become human. Had her decision influenced the outcome of his fight? Had there been a connection and she had inadvertently made his life more difficult?

“Francesca,” he said softly, gently, “has it occurred to you that my near disaster with the beast may have influenced your decision? Why do you insist on blaming yourself? I was the one who sentenced you to a solitary existence. I would not want you to feel one bit of blame. It is not yours. Even if such a connection existed—”

“And it probably did,” she interjected.

Gabriel nodded his concession. “It could be so. But there can be no blame attached to you. Not ever. I am a Carpathian male. I lasted much longer than the majority of our males and that was probably due mostly to you, and the fact that you were somewhere in the world. My soul knew it. So all that time you gave me solace and kept me strong.”

“I’m a thousand years younger than you,” she said and then burst out laughing. “Living so long in the human world, thinking in human terms, do you know how silly that sounds? We cannot possibly be compatible. You’re way too old for me.”

Gabriel found himself laughing, too. There was warmth in his heart, a genuine joy in her company. He found comfort, a soothing tranquility he had never experienced before. For so long he had felt nothing at all. Now there was light and laughter and vivid colors and textures and life itself to be lived. Francesca. She had given that to him. “I think that remark borders on the insubordinate. Youth can be so impetuous.”

“Do you think?” Francesca bent down and found a flat round rock, her fingers closing around it, the pad of her thumb rubbing back and forth over it. “I’m pretty good at this. You’re not the only one that can skip rocks. I’ll bet I can put one of these across the lake with ten skips.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow shot up. “I cannot believe my ears. The arrogance of youth.”

Francesca shook her head. “Not youth, woman power.”

He made a sound somewhere between laughter and a growl of derision. “Woman power? I have never heard of such a thing. Woman magic maybe, but never woman power. What exactly is it?” he teased.

“You’re asking for a sound thrashing, Gabriel,” she cautioned. “I’m a champion.”

He nodded toward the lake. “Let me see what I am getting myself into.”

“You want a preview? I don’t think so. Let’s make a wager. If I win, I get the sleeping chamber. If you win, you get it.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose thoughtfully, his black eyes laughing. “You are attempting to trick me into something I will regret for the rest of my days. If we must wager, the prize will have to be something other than the sleeping chamber. If I lose I will brush your hair at every rising for a month. If you lose, you will brush mine for the same length of time.”

“What kind of dumb bet is that?” Francesca demanded, laughing. She couldn’t help herself. He was far too good-looking for his own good. His black eyes were dancing and in spite of her determination not to be drawn in by him, she thought him terribly sexy. The moment the adjective entered her head, she pushed it out, but betraying color flushed her skin.

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