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night. More important, he had promised never to leave her again.
    Later, she read a fairy tale to several of the children. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to spend the rest of her life here, Sara thought as she turned the pages. She could become a nun, if they would have her; if not, they might let her stay on and teach.
    She paused in the story, looking over the top of the book into the faces of the children sitting on the grass at her feet. Such sweet faces, innocent and trusting, so eager to love and be loved.
    Six-year-old Elizabeth smiled up at her, her eyes alight with anticipation as she waited for Sara to finish the story.
    She could be happy here, Sara mused. If she could never have a child of her own, at least she could have children around her, children who needed love. And who could sympathize with them more, understand them more, than she?
    She read another story, and then waved good-bye as Sister Mary Josepha called the children away. It was nap time.
    Left alone, Sara gazed at the flowers that bloomed in wild profusion along the walkways. Today, with the sun shining and her heart filled with the certainty of seeing Gabriel, life seemed wonderful, perfect, filled with promise.
    Today, with thoughts of Gabriel crowding her mind, anything seemed possible.
    "Hurry to me, beloved," she whispered. "Hurry to me."
Chapter Five
    He was on the brink of awareness when he heard her voice.
    Startled, he sat up, wondering if he had dreamed it. And then he heard it again, her voice, as loud and clear as if she stood beside him.
    Hurry to me, beloved. Hurry to me.
    Beloved…
    He closed his eyes, basking in the sound of that single word. Beloved. If only it were true.
    He dressed hurriedly, anxious to see her again, to see her smile, hear her voice caress his name.
    He raced through the night, his preternatural speed carrying him quickly to where she waited for him.
    She was sitting up in bed, an angel in a high-necked, long-sleeved gown. Her hair fell over her slender shoulders in endless waves of honey gold.
    His heart quickened when he met her gaze and saw the way her eyes brightened at the sight of him.
    Ah, Sara, he thought, if you only knew what manner of man stands before you, you would not be so glad to see me.
    Her smile was brighter than the sun at noonday.
    "So," he said quietly, "tell me about your day."
    Pleased at his interest, she told him of how she'd spent the day reading to the younger children, of how she had envisioned herself as a nun, helping to teach the other orphans.
    A nun! The word thundered through him. A nun! But what a waste that would be, to clothe her frail beauty in robes of somber black, to cut away that wealth of gold-colored hair, to bury her forever behind these walls where she would doubtless receive the love of numerous children but never know the love of a man, or give birth to a child of her own.
    A nun. He nearly choked on the word, on the idea. And then jealousy rose up within him, coiling around his heart. Better she should be a nun than find happiness in the arms of another man. A mortal man.
    Right or wrong, he knew he would destroy any man who dared to touch her.
    "Gabriel?" She was looking up at him, her head tilted slightly to one side, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you all right?"
    "Of course."
    "Did you hear what I said?"
    "Yes." He sat down on the stool beside her bed. "I'm sure you would make a fine nun,
cara
, if that is your desire."
    "It isn't, really." She lowered her gaze to her hands. "I want what every girl wants," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "A husband. A home of my own. Children."
    He grunted softly, neither agreeing or disagreeing, and she looked up at him again, her eyes aglow.
    "I do want those things," she said, "but what I really want is to dance! Oh, Gabriel, if only I could dance."
    "I'm afraid I cannot transform you into a ballerina," he said with regret, "but you could dance with me, if you like."
    "With you? How?"
    "Like