She had never been with any man but James. She wondered what it would be like to be touched in that way by someone who did not need to cause her pain to feel his own pleasure.
And how, exactly, was she so certain that this man would not cause her pain? Or that any man would not? Because he was being polite to her now? Because he had intervened ever so slightly between her and James last night?
Yes. Because he had intervened. Because he had felt enough power and self-possession to walk up to James Auberon and interrupt his abuse of his wife. A crowd of Rhode Island’s most prominent citizens had not felt that kind of power. They had all simply watched and pretended not to be looking.
And because fate had put him in her path again tonight. Sabina laughed. Mother Mary. Even after all that had happened to her over the past fifteen years, the silly, bookish girl with the romantic notions about tortured heroes and the redeeming power of love had not been killed. She’d merely lain dormant until the next ‘hero’ came along.
She stood. “Thank you for the rest, and for the water. But I need to go back to my home now.”
Carlo stood, too, and the dog rose with him. “There’s not another house on the beach for quite a ways. Where did you come from?”
“Not far from Seagazer Point.”
“Jesus. That’s more than two miles. Here—I can drive you.” He waved at some point behind her, trying to get someone’s attention.
“Please don’t bother, really. I like the walk.” She stepped over the log to make her way around him, but she got tangled up in the mass of dog somehow, strafed one sore, bare foot across the rough wood, and only missed falling because Carlo grabbed her arm.
As soon as she was steady on her feet again, she jerked her arm free. “Thank you. Good night.” She started off down the beach.
He trotted after her and took her arm again. “Sabina!”
She didn’t like this, not at all. Now she was beginning to feel like yet another man was forcing his will on her. Again, she yanked her arm away, and this time she stepped backwards, continuing down the beach but keeping an eye on him. Stupid romantic naïf in her head. She truly should know better.
Walking after her, he put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Mrs. Auberon. I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s dark, and you mean a long walk alone. I don’t intend anything inappropriate. I was only going to offer you a ride home. I can ask my sister to drive you, if that would make you feel more comfortable.”
Sabina’s feet hurt. Her knees hurt. She had walked much farther than she’d intended when she’d come out for a stretch of the leg after her take-out dinner, and now she had to retrace her steps. She was cold, and it was dark. But there was not even the most microscopic chance that she would agree to a ride home from this man or from any of his relatives, male or female. This was about her will and his will. She would have preferred actually to have an accident on the beach and save James the trouble of staging one than to take the ride being offered.
She turned without a word and continued toward home, her back to Carlo and his bonfire.
For a few minutes, she walked alone, feeling both relieved and bereft. She had enjoyed that brief, warm respite at the fire. She had felt younger, even, somehow. Now, she was alone and cold, and her feet burned, and it was too dark to tell where the sharp shards of shells might be lurking, waiting to take a slice. The tide had come in, and she had to walk in the deeper sand, and around rock formations, which made her knees unhappy. The ride with his sister might well have been the smarter choice.
But she could not have allowed it.
Over the rush of surf, she thought she heard something else, or at least sensed something, and she looked over her shoulder to see Carlo running toward her. Knowing full well she couldn’t outrun him, she didn’t even try. Instead, she wheeled around and stood akimbo.
“What are you doing?”
He pulled up a few steps from her. “I’m walking with you. It’s too dark to go alone. I just needed to talk to my sister for a minute before I joined you.”
“And if I don’t wish for your company?”
He shrugged. “Public beach—actually, where we’re standing isn’t public. My other sister, Carmen, owns this stretch. That’s her house there.” He pointed up the rise to a sweet little shake-shingle cottage, its windows beaming with happy, golden light. “Technically, you’re trespassing right now.”