“Peter?” His voice sounded surprised. “But, sweetheart, you couldn’t have prevented his death, neither could your mother or I. Peter died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Even if we’d been there that night, we couldn’t have done anything. We always blamed ourselves for leaving you in charge of him. I’ll never forget the horror on your face that night. I wish we could have spared you this. You should have never seen him die. We were so worried for you.”

“But, Mom was so sad all the time. I thought you blamed me.”

“Blamed you? Oh God, Delilah, no.” He sat forward in his chair, wringing his hands. “We blamed ourselves. If we hadn’t had you, your mother and I would have never made it through this dark time. You were the only light we had. You were our only sunshine, but we felt so guilty that you had those nightmares, seeing him dead in his crib over and over again. We didn’t know what to do, so we never spoke about it. We always thought time would heal all wounds, and children forget. In hindsight, we should have gotten you professional help, but we just didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry we failed you. Please forgive us.” Her father’s eyes filled with tears.

Delilah’s eyes finally released the tears she’d built up over all those years. “Oh, Daddy. There’s nothing to forgive. I love you.”

“I love you, too, my sweetheart, and so does your mother. Promise me something.”

“Anything,” she agreed without hesitation.

“Stop dwelling on the past, and think about the future. Your future.”

“I promise.”

“Goodbye, Delilah,” he said, and his eyes went blank again.

Delilah slumped in her chair and gave her sobs free reign. Her father loved her and didn’t blame her for Peter’s death. She was free, finally free of the guilt she’d carried for so long.

Strong arms lifted her up and carried her to the couch. She opened her tearstained eyes and looked at the man who carried her.

“Samson!”

“Don’t cry, sweetness,” he whispered and sat down on the couch, keeping her in his lap. He wore a long robe and looked as vibrant as ever.

“I’m so sorry, Samson; I put you in so much danger.” Her tears flowed freely.

“You saved my life.”

He brought her head close to his and lowered his lips to hers, kissing her softly.

“I thought I’d lost you,” she said.

Samson shook his head and chuckled. “I’m pretty hard to kill, even though this time it was close, too close. Without your blood—”

She put a finger on his lips. “Shh. I owed you.”

His face took on a stern look. “You felt obligated? That’s why you saved me?” His shoulders sagged, as if all energy had left his body.

“I couldn’t let you die. I put you in this situation. If I hadn’t run off, you would have never been injured.”

“I see.”

So she’d done it out of guilt? That was all she felt? Samson felt his heart contract painfully. She’d saved him, only to kill him by leaving him again. He felt her blood run through his veins, sensed the very essence of her, yet at the same time he listened to her words. Words he didn’t want to hear. She’d saved him because she owed him.

Abruptly he removed her from his lap and sat her on the couch while he rose.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way. You don’t owe me anything. I’ll ask Carl to make arrangements for you to return to New York.”

He’d barely pressed out the word when he stalked out of the room and ran up the stairs. Seconds later he slammed the door to his bedroom shut. Delilah didn’t love him. He’d completely misread her. She’d only given him her blood because she’d put him in danger in the first place, not because she couldn’t live without him.

How noble of her!

A bitter taste spread in his mouth. He had to get her out of his life now, before she ripped his heart out and fed it to the lions. Everything that reminded him of her would have to go. He yanked open his desk and pulled out his drawing pad.

The drawings he’d made of Delilah during their first night fluttered to the floor. Samson bent down and stroked his hands over them, as if touching her instead. He yearned for those moments again when he had her in his arms.

“They are beautiful,” Delilah’s soft voice whispered behind him.

How had she been able to sneak in without him hearing her? He had to attribute it to his recovering state.

“You drew these of me.” Not a question, just a simple statement.