Finding Gabriel Read Online Free

nothing.
    A dark form caught her eye. Staring into the black expanse, Ariah narrowed her gaze and leaned over the banister. The slight movement sent rugged juts of stone biting into her ribs. Jarred by the sight below, she grasped onto her shawl.
    Her immediate instinct was to run far from here. But the soles of her feet remained securely in place.
    The shape was barely decipherable and half-submerged in the water. What could it possibly be? A wounded animal of some sort? Surely not a person? It was a terrible thought – but, then again, times were terrible in Paris.
    It was a victim. She was sure of it. A victim of something unutterable.
    Overcome with a macabre blend of curiosity and concern, she eased from the banister and crossed the bridge.
    The shadowy figure materialized with each of her steps until she saw the thing for what it was.
    A man.
    Ariah’s first thought: he’s surely dead.
    Paralyzed with fear and an unnamable emotion, she mutely inched forward. Lying along the bank, the man floated face down, water lapping around the broad expanse of his shoulders. The sleek material of his greatcoat branded him as an esteemed military figure. Resting on the embankment, the right side of his face was visible. Mon Dieu. In her twenty-two years, she’d never beheld such haunting beauty.
    Jet-black waves, rich and flowing, framed the chiseled lines of startling features. Day-old stubble peppered the stubborn curve of his jawline and shadowed sculpted cheekbones. Apparently he’d collapsed and attempted to scramble free of the water before losing consciousness. His head rested against the pavement, and his mouth was half-immersed, the water meeting his lips. His body was large, solid, strong. A worn satchel hung from his shoulder. It floated beside the embankment, its contents safely fastened within the leather casing.
    Breathless, Ariah eased forward till she stood no more than a meter away. She swallowed, sank to the crutch of her knees, and tentatively swept back the man’s sodden forelock. Fingertips trembling in time with her heart, she cupped his chin and lifted his face from the icy water.
    A dull scream roared inside her throat. Despite the cold, both palms grew heavy with perspiration, plastering cotton to flesh. Mon Dieu. Nearly half of his face was missing.
    A crude hole gaped where his left cheek should have been, and the flesh was twisted into nothing more than a bloody pulp. Shredded skin sagged from his face in gruesome strands. The wound stretched centimeters below his eye to the corner of his left lip. Vivid bruises spanned the hole’s perimeter like vaults into hell. Several teeth had been blown away, leaving his gums swollen and gushing. And his cheekbone was cleanly shattered. It protruded, stabbing through the torn flesh at sharp, irregular angles. Bile welled in Ariah’s gut and rose into her throat. The sight was unbearably painful – even to look upon.
    God above, what had happened to this poor soul? Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. A thousand scenarios flashed through her mind, each one more gruesome than the last.
    Was he possibly still alive? Holding her breath, she pressed two fingertips along the side of his neck. In a weak response, his pulse thrummed at an uneven and dangerously slow rhythm. Ariah crossed herself in a clumsy movement and rewarded her necklace with a grateful squeeze.
    Yes, he was alive, at present, but without her help, he’d be dead within minutes.
    Ariah knew she ought to turn away. For the sake of her little girl, propriety, and maintaining the delicate balance that had become her life, she ought to regard this night as nothing more than a bad dream … a distant memory of the deep subconscious. Morning’s light would illuminate her wisdom and burn away the tragedy she’d witnessed.
    Involving herself in this mess would be pure madness.
    But compassion muddled all hope for logic, and Ariah found herself wrenching the man’s body from the river’s blackened