Her closed eyes and even breathing indicated sleep. Gently, Sinclair closed the book and placed it beside her curled legs. Brushing the hair away from her face, he reserved the features to memory…for a time when memories were all that remained. Shaking off the melancholy, he bent and lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Instinctively, Carla turned in his arms, trustingly seeking the warmth of his shoulder. Her face nestled in the curve of his neck and one arm crept around behind his head. She made a soft sound of relaxation and Sinclair swallowed hard. He deliberately slowed his steps on the way to her bedchamber. He wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible, to memorize the feel of her body in his arms, the scent of her hair and the softness of her skin. Pushing the door open with the swing of his hip, he carried her across the floor to the bed. The lighted candelabras in the hallway provided just enough light for him to make out the elegant lines of her face, the fullness of her lips, the high cheekbones and the evenly arched eyebrows.
