Maybe it was the serenity of being with Gabriel, the magic of meeting someone who was a mirror, a reflection of all her pain and sorrow and yet hope. Sara glanced over at his profile, at his sharp nose, his beautiful cheekbones, his hair dancing in the small breeze.

Maybe it was falling in love.

Everything seemed easier to face when you had a man standing behind you with his hand on the small of your back.

She could be and was independent. Had been since the age of thirteen. But it was pleasant to have someone understand her, anticipate her, offer such a subtle support. Gabriel wasn’t the type for overblown gestures like flowers or public displays of affection, but she liked his quiet style better.

It was sexier to have him sketch her in private than to have him hold her hand in public.

No question about it, she was in love with him, and she had the conviction that they would be together. They were together. Sex, some sort of permanency, would come later, when they were both ready for it. But they were together.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, interrupting her dreamy sun-soaked musings.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Wary of his tone, she glanced over at him. He looked uncomfortable with whatever he was about to say.

“Doing a comparison in your lab is a good idea. And the thing is, we can take it a step further. Because now we know you’re Anne Donovan’s descendent.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m Jonathon Thiroux’s. So if your DNA and my DNA don’t have markers that match the blood found on the knife, then there was a third person in the room who nicked themselves when they stabbed Anne.”

Sara sat up straighter and gaped at him. “You’re Jonathon Thiroux’s descendent?”

He nodded, staring straight ahead at the river, fingers drumming on his knees.

“Were you planning on telling me?” And how dare he express indignation the day before that she had kept her biology a secret when he had been withholding the same information and still had, even after her confession?

“Probably. Eventually. But I didn’t want you to think I was biased. I actually don’t think Jonathon Thiroux did it, but I suspect you do.”