Crossing to the tall, wide doorway, Gabriel fitted the key to the bolt. A slender beam of fluorescent light greeted him, the result of the hurricane lamp resting above the door. With practiced motions, he flicked on the kitchen lights and carried her through to the main room. He paused at the doorway to switch on the overhead light, but when it didn’t respond, he walked into the room, knowing its contents.

His grandmother’s wide green sofa dominated the space, its lines worn and comfortably shabby. Colorful quilts made by his great-aunt Jeanette were stacked in a cherry bin on the left and draped over the antique rocking chair in front. On the opposite side was a gateleg table that had been carved from a felled oak by his father, and its surface held a shallow crystal bowl filled with hard peppermint candies.

Along three walls, massive oval windows reinforced with treated glass peered out into the depths of the bayou. The central window was fitted to a door and opened onto a wraparound porch. Beneath an ivory-framed window, a varnished table with four sturdy chairs waited. Fishing gear rested in the far corner, rods leaning drunkenly against tackle boxes dusty from disuse. A hallway laid with a handwoven rug in a deeper green than the couch led to two bedrooms and a single shared bath.

Unerringly, Gabriel knelt on the cushions, tucking Erin into their soft embrace. He rummaged in the bin for a quilt, desperate to stop the shivers that continued to course through her.

“Erin, honey, I’m going into the kitchen. To make some tea. I’ll be right back.” Gabriel rose from his crouch beside her. Suddenly her fingers curled around his wrist, the nails biting in deep.

“No,” she moaned brokenly. “Please. Stay.”

“Always.” Gabriel’s hand twisted beneath her grip to hold her tight. He settled onto the sofa and lifted her across his lap. Stretching his long legs out, he tucked her along his side and stroked a tender hand along the silken mass of hair that flowed over her shoulders. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”

In the dimly lit room, he could see Erin’s graceful profile, the face slack with exhaustion. And fear. Endlessly he held her, stilling her restive movements, soothing her brow with soft kisses. At his touch, she calmed, and nightmare receded into sleep. Only once did she stir. Then she whispered a new name. “Analise.”

Gabriel continued to watch her, puzzled by the woman in his arms. More than the sight of a dead woman had wrought this devastation. She was shattered. And, though it may have bruised his ego, he recognized that her clinging wasn’t to him. Hell, she wasn’t really aware of him, not as a man. To her, he was simply protection against a darker, deadlier specter.