Page 49 of The Unseen

Some of her tension eased. Lucas and Nicole were home and safe. She knew where they had been, knew Lucas had gone to the old cabin to destroy a monster, to exorcise the demon Simone. Rachel was certain they wouldn’t have returned unless Lucas had succeeded.

Rachel closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, but her restlessness would not leave her. She kept thinking of Francois, wondering if he had left, too; wondering if she would ever see him again.

Yearning for him.

Her heart ached. She had worn her white silk nightgown to bed and left her hair unbound, hoping he would come to her. All night, she had felt as if he had been somewhere near, watching over her, protecting her, but perhaps she had only imagined it.

She blinked back tears. Maybe none of it was real. Maybe this longing for a man she had never known was nothing more than her imagination. Perhaps it was only a sweet delusion.

Finally giving in to the sadness that wouldn’t leave her, Rachel tossed back the covers and climbed out of bed.

She crossed to her dressing table and sat down on the faded velvet bench in front of the mirror.

Thinking to plait her hair into the single long braid she usually wore to bed, she picked up the silver-backed hairbrush and began to pull it through the long black strands.

As she looked into the mirror, movement caught her attention, and in the mirror, she saw him, Francois, in his full-sleeved white shirt, snug black breeches, and knee-high boots. A beautiful man, with thick black hair and beautiful, long-lashed blue eyes.

Her heart squeezed. She turned and worked to hold back tears as he approached. “Francois.”

He simply took her hand, brought it to his lips, then drew her to her feet and into his arms.

My love.

She heard the words in her mind as clearly as if he had spoken them aloud. He felt solid and real as she leaned against him, and her arms went around his neck. Tears clogged her throat. I prayed you would come.

His hold tightened, pulling her closer. I have searched through time, looking for the woman meant to be mine.

The beautiful words washed over her, and she knew in her heart he was right. Francois was her destiny, as she was his.

She felt his lips on hers, tender and sweet, a kiss that held the promise of so much more.

In her mind, music began to play, violin and piano, the lovely pulsing of a harp.

Francois took one of her hands and placed it on his shoulder, settled his own hand at her waist. She recognized the beautiful notes of “The Blue Danube” the instant before he swept her into the waltz.

Rachel closed her eyes and let the music wash over her; it was so real she wondered if the orchestra was actually in the room.

Perhaps none of it was real, but it didn’t matter.

For now, Francois was there, and she was in his arms, her white silk nightgown floating around her, her hair flying around her as he made a turn and she followed, as if they had danced together since the beginning of time.

Rachel closed her eyes, feeling free as she never had before.

They glided about the room in a world all their own; Francois pulled her closer as the song played out.

Too soon, the music ended. She worried that he would disappear, as he had before, but he lifted her against his chest and carried her over to the bed.

Their clothes quickly disappeared, and Francois’s mouth took hers, his kiss no longer gentle.

This was the man who had come to her in dreams, the demanding lover who knew just how to please her.

He touched her as no man had, stirred her as no man had.

When he joined with her, she felt a rush of desire so intense she cried out his name.

Hours passed in a haze of passion and deep, timeless love. In their final release, they reached the peak together, Francois’s body straining toward hers, his kiss powerful and unforgettable.

Her eyelids felt heavy as he lay down beside her, but she refused to fall asleep. She wanted this time with Francois. Wanted to feel his powerful presence for as long as God would allow.

She didn’t see him rise, just felt the emptiness swelling inside her. As she sat up in bed, her gaze went frantically in search of him. He was there, she realized, standing next to the bed, dressed once more in his shirt, breeches, and boots, but his image was growing fainter.

Mon amour, now that you are safe, it is time for me to leave.

No … please … Francois. Rachel’s eyes welled with tears. Please don’t go.

His image was barely visible as his hand reached down to cradle her cheek. I must obey my destiny. There is no longer a choice.

The tears in her eyes spilled over, leaving a trail of wetness. I love you so much.

He leaned down and brushed a last kiss on her trembling lips. My heart. When the soft kiss ended, all that remained of Francois were the bluest eyes she had ever seen, filled with love for her, the same love reflected in her own eyes.

“No!” she said into the darkness. But it was too late. Francois was already gone.