Darius walked across the room, untying his cravat, his blue eyes bright with an inner fire that both scared and titillated Gabrielle.

She sat up against the headboard, drawing the blanket up to her chin. “What are you doing here?”

“I am giving you what you want, lass. What you have been yearning for since I saw you again.”

“Again?” she said, the word sounding huskier than normal. “What do you mean?”

“We are connected. Do you not remember me, Gabrielle?”

“You are familiar, I cannot deny that.”

He nodded, looking pleased. “Aye, I should be familiar, lass. I was your husband.”

“My husband? I have never been married.”

His shirt came off next, and then he started on the buttons of his pants. “Not in this life, lass. We were married a long time ago. Do you not remember it? Taking our vows at St. Mary’s cathedral in the Highlands?”

“I do not remember this cathedral, nor have I been to Scotland. I have never known you before the Vanderline ball.”

“And yet you see images in your mind of a place that is familiar. A place with tall hills, heather-filled valleys, and a manor house.”

She gasped. “Yes, I have seen this place.”

Gabrielle’s gaze fell to Darius’s wide chest and down the muscled planes of his abdomen, where a thin strip of hair traveled from his navel and disappeared beneath the band of his pants.

Excitement pulsed through her, making the blood in her veins hot.

She swallowed with expectation.

“I remember when I returned to the village after being away for several months. You were at the market, selling flowers with your mum, and you had on a light-colored kirtle and a ringlet of heather in your hair. You always wore that ring of heather on market days, and by God, you were beautiful. I wanted you so desperately.” His lips curved in a soft smile. “I still do. Relax, Gabrielle. See what I see. Feel what I feel. Be there now.”

Gabrielle imagined the large, heather-strewn hills and the now-familiar lush valley from her earlier visions. She glanced down at her bare feet, and the simple gown, or kirtle, that fell to her ankles, the color a soft blue. She touched her head and felt the crown of heather.

Could it be?

“Rose!”

She turned to find a young man wearing soft leather braies that hung low on narrow hips. A sleeveless black tunic, belted at the waist, showed well-muscled arms. Dark hair fell past broad shoulders, two braids on either side of his handsome face.

“Darius!” she yelled, running toward him, heather and grass caressing her ankles.

He laughed, his smile warm and welcoming as he opened his arms to her.

She flew into his strong embrace, her arms wrapping around his neck, holding him tight. “Darius, you are finally home!” Gabrielle inhaled the soft, masculine scent. His hair felt like silk against her face. “I have missed you so much. I can hardly believe it is you.”

“It is I, lass. It is I. The English took one look at us, turned tail, and ran, all the way back to England.”

An overwhelming sense of relief flowed through Gabrielle. “Are you home to stay then?”

“For a little while.”

Disappointment washed over her. “How long this time?”

He set her back on her feet and cupped her face between his hands. “Long enough to marry you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“Marry me, Rose. Make me the happiest man in all of Scotland.”

She stared into his beautiful blue eyes and knew he was serious. Joy, the likes of which she had never before known, washed over her in waves. “Aye, I shall marry you.”

Gabrielle swallowed past the lump in her throat, the memory fading as she opened her eyes. “I remember. I was your Rose.”

He stood at the edge of the bed now, looking at her with those amazing light blue eyes. Her heart pounded hard against her ribs, expectation making her wet her lips.

He did the same.

Her gaze shifted to his body once more, and she saw white marks here and there, all over his chest and arms. Scars from the past. He had been a warrior in that life. A soldier, and she had been his wife. Before he had been made into a vampire.

Her heart skipped a beat when he pushed the pants from his lean hips, taking his drawers with it.

Beautiful. Her insides burned, her nipples stabbing at the material of her chemise. The flesh between her thighs grew wet as she looked at all of him.

“You are—” she stammered, unable to find words to describe that part of him.

He laughed lightly. “I want you, Gabrielle. Do you want me?”

“Aye,” she said, meaning it. In fact, she let the blanket drop and reached out for him.

Darius’s gaze shifted to her breasts, over her stomach, and further, to stare at her sex. “You are even more beautiful than I remember.”

He lay down beside her, holding her, his body molding to hers. How perfectly they fit together.

His tongue brushed along the seam of her lips, urging her to open. The feel of his tongue stroking against hers was nothing short of heaven, and she was aware of everything about him. How hard his body was compared to hers, the feel of a powerful thigh as it nudged between hers.

Then he rolled to where she lay beneath him.

His cock, hard, like stone, rested against her belly. She felt it throb against her and knew she was moments away from becoming a woman.

Darius’s woman.

His lips left hers, drawing a path down her neck and shoulders, to the swell of her breasts where he lightly kissed her.

She felt the cool air on her breasts and a second later his mouth covered a nipple, drawing on it. Her breath left her in a rush, and her hands cradled his head, anchoring him there.

“Don’t stop.”

He used his teeth with restraint, his tongue laving, licking her, making her moan and shift beneath him. She arched her hips, aching for him in every way.

“Darius,” she breathed.

He looked up at her, his blue eyes even lighter than before. “Aye, love?”

“Make love to me.”

His gaze searched hers. “There will be no going back.”

“I want this.”

“Open your legs wider,” he urged, using his knees to spread them.

But rather than lay on her, he kissed her belly, his tongue swooping into her navel, swirling, before moving down. He placed a kiss on her sex.

She felt on fire as his tongue worked magic, sliding over the seam of her sex, teasing the tiny, sensitive nub of flesh. He flicked that nub over and over again with his tongue until she was moaning and arching beneath him.

He slipped a finger inside her, and she bit down on her lip to keep from groaning aloud.

A wonderful groan escaped his lips, and he smiled.

“Elizabeth, time to wake up, love. It is nearly half past six!”

Where in the hell had Elizabeth come from, and what was she doing interrupting such a wonderfully erotic dream?

“Elizabeth, get up, girl.” Incessant knocking followed this last request.

Opening her eyes, Gabrielle glanced around the room.

Damn! She most certainly was not at Darius MacLeod’s home, nor was she at her room in her uncle’s townhouse.

“Elizabeth!” the woman’s voice said from the other side of the door, and everything came back to her in a rush.

She had escaped Sutherland and her uncle.

“Time to get up, girl. I am off to market. I wanted to double-check your size, since the good Lord knows you could use a new gown.”

“I will be right there,” Gabrielle said, glancing down at the borrowed chemise.

Her nipples were still hard and sensitive. The erotic dream came back to her in all its wicked glory, and she could not help the grin that came to her lips.

Darius MacLeod had done things to her in her dreams that she had not even known were possible.

It made sense that she would dream of him since she had read his mind last night and seen erotic images then. Had he sent those images or dreams last night? Did he have the same dream? If so, did he wake up aching, just as she ached?

“Elizabeth…”

Gabrielle groaned and noticed the robe hanging on a nail. She put it on and belted it. A few sizes too big, she lifted the hem and carefully made her way downstairs. She hated the fact she had lied to Bev about her identity, especially since she clearly could not afford to buy Gabrielle a dress, let alone two.

Somehow she would help Bev out and pay her back for not just the dresses, but for the room and food. Indeed, the older woman had been far kinder than her own uncle had been.

Gabrielle walked into the small living area where Bev was busy draping Gabrielle’s underclothes over one of the chairs before the fire.

“You did not need wash my garments, Bev. I could have.”

Bev scratched her gray head. “You are my guest, dear. I was washing my own, so it did no harm to add your things to the barrel. The dress is ruined, I am afraid.”

Gabrielle resisted the urge to hug the woman. “How kind of you,” she said instead, and rested a hand on Bev’s shoulder. “I shall return the kindness you have shown me one day soon, I swear it.”

“Think nothing of it, love. I am glad to have your company.” Bev smiled warmly, clearly flustered. “The dress you wore was a bit of an odd fit for you, so I want to be sure to get you one that fits you better.”

Gabrielle stayed still while the older woman walked about her with a piece of string, measuring for the new dress. “All right, dear. I will do my best to find something lovely, though I cannot promise silks and lace.”

“Anything is fine, Bev,” she said, meaning it. A plain dress would draw less attention, and that was exactly what she needed. “And again, thank you for your kindness.”

“Think nothing of it. I just wish you could come with me. A bit of fresh air could do you good. You are so pale.”

The last thing she wanted to do was be seen by anyone in London. Sutherland and her uncle would be combing the streets for her by now. Being seen by even one of Bev’s neighbors could put her in danger, and Bev as well. “Perhaps next time.”

“Oh, I do hope so.” Bev started for the door and stopped short of it. “I made a pot of tea. It is sitting on the stove. Just help yourself, and I will be back shortly.”

The door closed behind Bev, and Gabrielle made herself a cup of tea and glanced out the window. Children played in the streets, their clothes a bit threaded and some with holes. However, they seemed content, laughing as they kicked a ball about. A woman close to Gabrielle’s age swept the sidewalk. Suddenly, she turned and looked at Gabrielle, her eyes narrowing as she continued to stare.

Gabrielle backed away from the window. She needed to be careful and stay out of sight. One day she could tell Bev the truth about her circumstances, but not now. She knew word would start circulating, and she had no idea what the boy’s father had said at the ball. For all she knew, the entire city could be on the lookout for a blonde witch.

Good gracious, she had made a mess of things.

Hopefully Sutherland and her uncle would not think to look for her here, in this neighborhood.

Looking about the small room, she knew she could easily be content in such surroundings. Her time at the convent had proven to her that material things meant very little. Instead, it was the people in one’s life who made the difference. If a person found love, had a roof over their head, food in their belly, and clothing to wear, what else was needed?

And what of Darius MacLeod? Would he feel the same? The visions she’d had of him, and the fine clothes he had worn, made her believe he was a man of means.

Being a vampire, he could probably live just about anywhere. She shook her head. Why was it she seemed to always forget that one important detail about Darius MacLeod?

He was a vampire, which meant he was dangerous, and her life was complicated enough.

She recalled the vivid dream she’d had and the visions of his past. Or perhaps their past. What had he called her in that dream? “Rose,” she said the name aloud, as though it would trigger a memory. She did recall the manor house, the same hills and valleys of what had to be Scotland. And there was no denying she felt comfortable with this man, who was supposed to be a monster. Everything she had ever heard about the dark creatures did not match up with what she knew of Darius MacLeod.

But what do you really know of him?

Aside from the fact they shared a strange connection and he could speak to her in her thoughts. Would he know she heard him, or could everyone hear vampires?

And what of Rose? Why did Gabrielle see herself, or rather this other woman, and Darius together in another time? Had Darius been a vampire back then? Her stomach tightened.

She took a sip of tea and winced when it burned her tongue. Now Gabrielle would never know the answers to those questions because she would probably never see him again.

Unless she went looking for him, but that would be too dangerous. He would be staying in a fine hotel, or if he was as wealthy as she assumed he was, he could own or rent luxurious rooms or a townhouse in one of London’s most affluent neighborhoods. Even in her dreams, he had asked her to trust him.

He would be a nice ally to have.

But should she trust him?

She had trusted her uncle and look what had happened. She had gone from the prison of a convent to the confines of an arranged marriage.

For the time being she was safe from Sutherland, and Bev seemed genuinely happy to have her as a guest.

No, she must stay here, out of sight, and not trust anyone, including the handsome Scot.