Dark Before the Rising Sun by Laurie McBain

said that she haunts the great hall, and that her voice can be heard calling to someone, but of course there is no one to answer. Even the vicar of Westlea Abbot, a neighboring village, has claimed to have seen a specter that appears atop one of the towers of Merdraco on a moonless night. Of course,” Dante added with the cynical look that Rhea knew only too well, “he preaches more from the bottle than from the Good Book, so you can’t take his word as gospel.”
    â€œHow do you know all this? I thought you’d not returned to Merdraco in over fifteen years.” Rhea wanted to learn all she possibly could about this man she had come to love, yet knew so little about.
    Dante seemed momentarily startled by her question, then he shrugged. “It is not important how I know,” he said, unwilling to explain. “Most good people think it a sin for someone to take his own life. They believe that the soul will never find peace and is destined to wander for eternity, or perhaps be damned. My mother did not make a very good bargain when she traded one hell for another.”
    â€œDante, I am so sorry,” Rhea said awkwardly. “I never knew. You do not speak of the days before you left England. I wish you would tell me,” Rhea urged, her slim hand touching the hardness of his tanned cheek.
    But she was unprepared for the violence of his reaction when his fingers wrapped round her hand and he pulled her from her chair and onto his lap. Staring deeply into her startled eyes, he spoke coldly. “You are not a part of that life. Never do I want you to be touched by it, or even learn of the man I once was. I wonder if you will continue to be faithful to me, no matter what may happen, or what you might learn. Or will you, my most beloved, find life with me so unbearable that you would turn away from me? Will I hurt you as I have everyone else in my life? Or will you remain true, little daffadilly?” he demanded, his gaze lingering on the golden glory of her hair.
    â€œDante, you know you have my love forevermore. I have pledged that to you.”
    Dante loosened his viselike grip when he saw the hurt expression in her eyes. Turning her palm upward, he pressed a gentle kiss against its softness.
    â€œForevermore? If only I could believe that. But I fear that nothing is forever. You will only be hurt all the more if you are deceived into believing that what happiness we have found today will be there tomorrow,” Dante told her.
    Perhaps he was unaware of the cruelty of his words. Rhea turned her face away. His casually spoken words frightened her. There was such a hopelessness about them.
    Dante’s touch was gentle this time as he turned her face to his. “I’ve hurt you, haven’t I? I did not mean to, but now you can see how easily an ill-spoken word can cast doubt on or even destroy the feelings we thought inviolate,” he warned her. “Never let anyone turn you against me, Rhea. Promise me that.”
    Rhea stared at him in silent confusion.
    â€œPromise me?”
    â€œI promise you,” Rhea finally spoke the vow.
    â€œYou may have doubts about me one day, but never doubt that I love you. You may hear of scandal associated with my name, but however genuine it may sound, come to me and let me explain. Give me the chance to deny it. Or perhaps to confirm it. But give me that chance, Rhea. Never run away without letting me explain,” he asked her, almost pleadingly, she was later to remember.
    â€œI’ll never leave you, Dante,” she told him again, trying to reassure him, for she had just seen a side of Dante that few people knew about, and it had been anything but arrogant.
    â€œHow easy it is for you to promise that now, but what of later?” he murmured as his mouth closed over her lips and he parted them, savoring the familiar feel and taste of her.
    Rhea’s hands moved caressingly as she cradled his head and responded to his