Pauline patted her hand. “I know they are. I love them both very much. They need time to get over all this. I should have stepped in a long time ago when I saw how my sister treated Charisse. The poor girl lived with persecution and abuse for years.”

“It’s over now,” Drake said.

His voice was so gentle it turned Saria’s heart over. She leaned into him, uncaring of her beaded gown. Drake immediately swept his arm around her waist and leaned down to brush kisses down the side of her face.

Charisse had been her maid of honor, but Armande hadn’t come to the wedding. He’d chosen to go to the rain forest where he could breathe a little and think things through. Now that Charisse was safe, he didn’t have to watch over her so carefully. He blamed himself for the deaths of the men and women his mother had murdered. He’d known she was ill, but had no idea of the extent of her madness.

“Come dance with me,” Drake murmured in her ear.

She kissed Pauline. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I’ve always loved the inn. You know I do. It’s always been a sanctuary for me. I’ll be raisin’ my children here.”

“Go dance with your handsome husband so I can dance with my man,” Pauline said, patting her hand.

Saria put her hand in Drake’s, happiness bursting through her as she fit her body close to his. There was something so sensual, so right and perfect about dancing with one’s husband, and she intended to savor every moment.

“I love you,” Drake whispered in her ear as he whirled her around the dance floor.

She waited a heartbeat. Looked into his eyes. Let herself drown there. “I love you too.”

Teaser chapter

Keep reading for a special preview of
the next exciting Carpathian novel
by #1 New York Times
bestselling author
Christine Feehan

DARK PREDATOR

Available September 2011 from Berkley Books.

SMOKE burned his lungs. It rose around him in bellowing waves, fed by the numerous fires in the surrounding rain forest. It had been a long, hard-fought battle, but it was over and he was done. Most of the main house was gone, but they’d managed to save the homes of the people who served them. Few lives were lost, but each one was mourned—though not by him. He stared at the flames with hollow eyes. He felt nothing. He looked on the faces of the dead, honorable men who had served his family well, saw their weeping widows and their crying children and he felt—nothing.