She smiled up at him. “The dawn is approaching, Gabriel, you must rest.”
“You are the one with child.” He opened the earth and floated with her into the welcoming soil, his arms pulling her into the protection of his body. “Sleep, honey, tomorrow we will fix her room for her.” His body and soul, heart and mind, were content. She was with him, his arms around her, her scent filling his lungs, and it was enough.
You are the one with child.
She repeated those words in her mind, hugged them to her, wondering at such a miracle. Francesca felt his mouth against her forehead, his hand over their child, and she closed her eyes, content to rest.
When she woke, Gabriel was already out, searching for evidence of Lucian’s whereabouts. Their world was fragile and filled with danger as long as his brother hunted in their city. Francesca felt Gabriel stirring in her mind, felt his warmth, yet she shivered as she moved through the familiar rooms of her house. During the day the delivery-men had arrived, leaving boxes of every size and shape. She had forgotten just how many things they had purchased for Skyler the night before. Francesca enjoyed every moment of arranging the room and placing Skyler’s clothes neatly in the dresser and closet. She took great care working on the heavy quilt, putting love into each stitch as she fashioned it especially for Skyler.
She was beginning to worry about Gabriel now. From Gabriel’s thoughts she learned that already Lucian had struck again; there would be another unsolved murder for the police. She sensed Lucian was deliberately baiting Gabriel, leading him toward a trap of some kind. She moved about the house, taking care of business before her trip to see Skyler. She made calls to various organizations, to members of society, to old acquaintances. It was always necessary to keep up appearances, now more than ever with Skyler as her ward.
The first order of business was to secure a housekeeper they could trust. Aidan Savage in the United States had recommended a trustworthy couple, his own housekeeper’s son, Santino, and the man’s wife, Brasilia. They would move in and protect Skyler during the day. Santino knew Aidan was Carpathian, and Aidan assured Francesca it would be safe to confide in him.
Satisfied, she made her way to the hospital. Skyler smiled tentatively as she entered the room. “I thought maybe you changed your mind,” the girl said. The stuffed animal was in its usual place in her arms.
“No, you didn’t,” Francesca corrected with a smile. “You had a panic attack. Things are falling in place, honey. Gabriel and I found your locket for you. It’s in a jewelry box in your room. You have everything you need waiting for you to come home. All you have to do is get better. Are you eating?”
“I’m trying to eat,” Skyler answered honestly. “It isn’t easy. I didn’t for so long, I’m never hungry now. Where’s Gabriel?”
Francesca thought it a good sign Skyler had inquired after him. “Out hunting.”
Skyler was silent a moment. “Hunting?” she echoed. “I didn’t think he was the kind who would want to kill a living creature.” She seemed disappointed.
Skyler obviously had an affinity for animals. Francesca smiled gently. “Not animals, silly. Things.” She brushed the hair out of the girl’s eyes, her touch tender and soothing. The contact gave her access to Skyler’s emotions.
The child was frightened but was making every attempt to be brave. The future terrified her, life terrified her, but not Francesca and not Gabriel. She had made up her mind to try to give life another chance. “I can’t go to school,” she blurted out suddenly. “I can’t be around anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me.”
Francesca nodded soberly. “I understand, honey. I think it best we stick together for a while, the three of us and our housekeeper. I’m going to hire a couple who will work for us, keep an eye on you.”
Francesca took her hand and simply held it, allowing her special gift to flow out of her and into the girl.
“Now I want you to rest, young lady. I’m going to ask Brice to release you as soon as possible, but you have to do your part. If you have trouble eating, or you’re afraid, reach for Gabriel or for me in your mind. Like you, we are telepathic and we will hear you and come to your aid. Call if you are in need. I expect it, is that understood?”
The girl nodded solemnly. “I’m tired all the time.”
“That’s to be expected. You suffered a trauma, Skyler, and you were beaten very badly. Your body and mind need time to heal as well as your spirit. I’ll be back later. For now, rest.” With a wave of her hand she pushed open the door and glided out.
“Are you Francesca Del Ponce?” There was a stranger standing outside Skyler’s room. She sensed he had been lurking there for some time. Francesca had scanned him, of course, that was as natural to her as breathing, and she had known he was waiting to talk with her.
She smiled pleasantly, her long lashes veiling the expression of annoyance in her eyes. For a brief moment she considered using a mental “push” on him, but there was something about him that wasn’t quite right. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was so she stopped to face him. “Yes, that’s right. I’m Francesca.” She flashed a smile at him, one that caught his attention immediately.
“Barry Woods, Miss Del Ponce. I’m a reporter looking for a good story. I understand you heal people.”
Her eyebrows shot up and a small smile curved her soft mouth. “I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. What do I do?”
“Heal people. I was told you healed a little girl who had cancer.”
Francesca hesitated for a moment before answering him. There was something about the man that bothered her, that wasn’t quite right. A craftiness. Something subtly evil. Perhaps she was mistaken, but he sent a shiver along her spine. She touched his mind very delicately.
At once her breath caught in her throat. She forced a smile to her lips, her large dark eyes widening so that they were as black as night. “I wish I had such a wonderful ability. The truth is, I have no such talent.” With her stomach lurching, Francesca made herself touch his mind. Gabriel would need information. This man was not what he seemed on the surface. He was a fanatic, his mind filled with images of vampires and stakes and garlic.
The reporter continually clutched at the golden chain circling his throat. She knew in his hand he held a cross. “My source is very reliable, Miss Del Ponce.”
“The doctors here are quite remarkable,” she said softly. “Don’t you think it is much more likely they healed the child if her cancer is in remission? I go and read to the children often, but I cannot heal them, much as I would like to. Have you seen them on the cancer ward? They are so beautiful and brave. It’s rather heartbreaking. Perhaps you should visit them. The story would have tremendous human interest, don’t you think?” She buried the subtle compulsion in her suggestion carefully.
The reporter shook his head as if to clear it. “I have to get the story.”
She nodded gently, her long hair moving like a silken curtain around her shoulders. “Yes, the story about the doctors here in the hospital and how remarkable they really are.” Her dark eyes stared directly into his. “You really must write about their work.”
Woods caught himself as he was turning toward the cancer ward. He shook his head hard to clear out the cobwebs. For a moment he was disoriented, unable to remember exactly what he had been doing. Uppermost in his mind was the overwhelming urge to write a story about children with cancer. He shook his head again, certain he had not come here for that reason. A woman was walking away from him, her hips swaying gently. Her hair hung below her waist, thick and rich and shining with high lights. She was so beautiful she took his breath away and he hadn’t even seen her face.
He stood a moment, reluctant to move. He couldn’t think what he was doing. He wanted her to turn so he could see her. He wanted to follow her, but his feet felt like lead. He had come here for a reason, an important reason, but he could only remember that he wanted to write a story on children with cancer. There was a doctor he needed to talk with. Not French, but English. Strange name. Brice something. Woods scratched his head and turned resolutely away from the cancer ward. He felt very lost, very confused. He had no real idea what he was doing.