her taut nerves like a physical caress, and when she turned from the window to face him it was with the stiff, jerky motion of reluctance.
Travis rose from the chair where he had watched her pacing, feeling his own face tighten as he saw the wariness in hers. Regret flowed through him, regret and frustration and a growing bewilderment. “How many women are you, Saber?” he mused. “What in your life divided you like this?”
“We were going to leave my past out of this,” she reminded him, holding herself still when she wanted so badly to—What? She didn’t know. Except that she
wanted.
He stepped toward her, the movement puttinghis face in shadow as the lamp behind him silhouetted his lean body. “I don’t care who you were,” he said, his voice strained. “Not now. I only care about who you are. But you won’t let me get close. You won’t let me
in.”
Saber took a deep breath, fighting the temptation to tell him anything he wanted to know. Dimly, she realized that what had once seemed a wonderful and exciting secret to a child had become a woman’s intolerable burden. She wondered when that had happened; had it been instantaneous or a gradual thing? Had she awakened one morning to the shocked realization of what she was, what she would always be? Or had it come to her slowly over the years? When had her sense of power become a trap?
Dear God … she was so tired of hiding. And her escape from hiding had become a prison she had never intended.
This
was her prison. The prison of having no name, no past. The prison of gazing into a man’s puzzled eyes and being unable to answer his questions.
Travis took another step toward her, his handlifting as though he would have touched her. But Saber turned quickly toward her bedroom, her tension so great, so brittle, that she guarded herself from his touch as she would have guarded fragile crystal from a blow.
She’d shatter. If he touched her, she would shatter, and the dear Lord only knew if she could put herself back together again.
“Good night, Travis,” she said huskily.
He drew a deep breath, his hand falling. “Good night, Saber.”
It was a long time before Travis went into his own bedroom. He stood at the window and gazed out into the night, the ache within him now a familiar pain.
FOUR
T RAVIS STOOD IN the wings, his gaze following Saber. The powerful lights turned her sequined evening gown to liquid gold, and her sensuous movements intensified that image. Music filled the huge building, and the roar from the audience was a steadily building force that seemed a living thing.
She was giving them everything inside her.
He felt it as he had before, as the audience felt it. He felt waves of power and passion emanating from the spotlighted woman until his throat tightenedwith emotion and his hands gripped her wrap convulsively.
It was difficult to think clearly, but Travis forced himself to remember this long day. She had been more than elusive, more than just out of reach. She had been gone. Only a note had greeted him this morning, a brief apology that she had “things to take care of.” He had come here and waited, watching the band assemble, watching the rehearsal that had been explosive itself. Then she had disappeared again, leaving her gown here and having no reason to return to the hotel until after the performance.
It had been a very long day.
Travis, with little to do but think, came to several conclusions. In spite of the ache that left him sleepless, restless, he realized he could get no relief. If he pushed Saber too hard or too fast, she would put herself forever out of his reach. He realized that she would be even more wary because he had seen the vulnerable side of her. And he realized that—somehow—he had to convince her he was no threat.
He didn’t know if he had the patience. His deepest instincts urged him to hold her tightly with the first firm grasp he could manage, but his mind warned him that he would never hold
Travis rose from the chair where he had watched her pacing, feeling his own face tighten as he saw the wariness in hers. Regret flowed through him, regret and frustration and a growing bewilderment. “How many women are you, Saber?” he mused. “What in your life divided you like this?”
“We were going to leave my past out of this,” she reminded him, holding herself still when she wanted so badly to—What? She didn’t know. Except that she
wanted.
He stepped toward her, the movement puttinghis face in shadow as the lamp behind him silhouetted his lean body. “I don’t care who you were,” he said, his voice strained. “Not now. I only care about who you are. But you won’t let me get close. You won’t let me
in.”
Saber took a deep breath, fighting the temptation to tell him anything he wanted to know. Dimly, she realized that what had once seemed a wonderful and exciting secret to a child had become a woman’s intolerable burden. She wondered when that had happened; had it been instantaneous or a gradual thing? Had she awakened one morning to the shocked realization of what she was, what she would always be? Or had it come to her slowly over the years? When had her sense of power become a trap?
Dear God … she was so tired of hiding. And her escape from hiding had become a prison she had never intended.
This
was her prison. The prison of having no name, no past. The prison of gazing into a man’s puzzled eyes and being unable to answer his questions.
Travis took another step toward her, his handlifting as though he would have touched her. But Saber turned quickly toward her bedroom, her tension so great, so brittle, that she guarded herself from his touch as she would have guarded fragile crystal from a blow.
She’d shatter. If he touched her, she would shatter, and the dear Lord only knew if she could put herself back together again.
“Good night, Travis,” she said huskily.
He drew a deep breath, his hand falling. “Good night, Saber.”
It was a long time before Travis went into his own bedroom. He stood at the window and gazed out into the night, the ache within him now a familiar pain.
FOUR
T RAVIS STOOD IN the wings, his gaze following Saber. The powerful lights turned her sequined evening gown to liquid gold, and her sensuous movements intensified that image. Music filled the huge building, and the roar from the audience was a steadily building force that seemed a living thing.
She was giving them everything inside her.
He felt it as he had before, as the audience felt it. He felt waves of power and passion emanating from the spotlighted woman until his throat tightenedwith emotion and his hands gripped her wrap convulsively.
It was difficult to think clearly, but Travis forced himself to remember this long day. She had been more than elusive, more than just out of reach. She had been gone. Only a note had greeted him this morning, a brief apology that she had “things to take care of.” He had come here and waited, watching the band assemble, watching the rehearsal that had been explosive itself. Then she had disappeared again, leaving her gown here and having no reason to return to the hotel until after the performance.
It had been a very long day.
Travis, with little to do but think, came to several conclusions. In spite of the ache that left him sleepless, restless, he realized he could get no relief. If he pushed Saber too hard or too fast, she would put herself forever out of his reach. He realized that she would be even more wary because he had seen the vulnerable side of her. And he realized that—somehow—he had to convince her he was no threat.
He didn’t know if he had the patience. His deepest instincts urged him to hold her tightly with the first firm grasp he could manage, but his mind warned him that he would never hold
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