Part II: VII
Although her actions made her feel belittled, Zoé found herself returning to those woods often. The woods themselves were peaceful, and even that exchange seemed less and less infuriating. As she thought on it, Zoé had to admit that she had been acting like a child, arguing whenever he contradicted her, throwing a rock, and becoming so angry so quickly. She always pouted and argued when she did not get her way, and although his tone was insulting, he was right. She would often ride to the edge of that forest, tethering her horse just inside the tree line, and then would move through the towering trees to find an knotted oak to sit under. Most of it's leaves had fallen, but the tangle of roots caught them into soft beds that Zoé found herself sitting in. Most of the time she came she would read, other times she would draw, but none of her visits resulted in seeing that dog or it's owner again.
This particular day, a piece of paper was stretched over her lap, a wooden panel behind it, giving her a surface to sketch on. Her model was a tree, an old wilted one, with branches so heavy that they seemed to droop and mask the lowest part of the canopy overhead. Singing softly to herself as she worked, the charcoal stained her fingertips. Luckily her riding dress was a molted grey, simple, and not expensive at all, making the small black marks around her knees less bothersome.
"A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray..."
"What are you singing?" the voice stopped her in her tracks. The charcoal streaked through the top corner of her page, turning the branch into a lightning bolt that seemed to strike the tree down.
"It... it's a meadow lullaby. One of my servants was singing it one day and... I guess I just remembered it," Zoé explained, looking to see Monsieur Larocque sitting to her right.
"You have a terrible singing voice," he smirked, a book in his hands, as if he had been reading while she worked. Zoé just chuckled, looking back at her sketch.
"I know. Had I known you were close by, I would have stayed silent and spared you the pain," her fingers were busy with that mistake, blending the mark into the paper and she tried to create a hazy sky line to mask the thunderbolt, but it was too dark and too strong of a stroke for her to mask. Zoé just sighed, opening a small latch on the wooden plank that exposed a hidden compartment. Folding up the piece of paper, Zoé went to place it into the compartment, only to feel a hand touch her own. He had moved silently closer, catching her hand before it had the chance to hide the ruined piece of work.
"Let me see."
"Monsieur, it's as bad as my singing. Having already damaged your ears, I don't wish to make the mistake with your eyes," she pulled her hand out of his. He would not budge however, his fingers wrapping around that paper.
"Let me see." It was a command now, not a request as the former had been. Zoé's eyes narrowed, but as they faced off, she noticed something that hadn't caught her attention before. On the right side of his face, from hair line down to his lower cheek sat a white porcelain mask. Something in the back of Zoé's mind was trying to tell her something, but the connections weren't strong enough for her to realize the significance. Her grip on the paper would loosen, and Monsieur Larocque leaned back against the tree as he looked over the sketch. Pulling another piece of paper from that compartment, Zoé bent over that wooden plank to try and hide her confusion. Why wear a mask? She already saw half of his face, so he wasn't protecting his identity. Biting the inside of her cheek, her fingers danced over the paper without even considering what she was doing. Her mind was racing as fast as her hand was going, the charcoal dancing to give the illusion that she was focusing on something besides his face.
"Not as terrible as the singing, but still not good," he said simply, tucking the paper under on of the exposed corners of her new piece of paper, and he leaned curiously over her shoulder to see what she was doing now. His voice brought her back to the present, and she looked down at her paper, it was the lake and meadow behind her house, the chateau in the background, with a perspective as if one was looking out from the edge of the woods. "Now that is better..."
"Your mask..." Zoé shook her head, biting her lip as she stuffed the 'terrible' drawing into that compartment. "Never mind..." she felt him shift away from her. She heard him stand, and sighed. "Monsieur..."
"Mademoiselle Roussel, is it safe to assume that I saved your life two weeks ago?" he asked in that cool voice. Zoé turned her gaze to look up at him, putting her drawing board to the side.
"Monsieur..."
"Answer the question," he cut her off quickly, looking down at her, both his eyes boring into her and Zoé would scoot back some, bracing herself on a root to help her stand.
"Yes Monsieur," she said quietly.
"And you've claim to owe me in return yes?" he watched her closely as she stood, and Zoé would just nod. He closed the distance, getting mere inches from Zoé. She casted her gaze to the ground, only to feel two fingers curl under her chin and gently raise her gaze to look at him. Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a step back, stumbling on a root. She would have fallen if he hadn't caught her arm with his free hand, keeping her upright. Zoé was forced to look up at him, and Monsieur Larocque now had an amused look on his face. "If you want to start repaying your debt, you can begin by not asking me about my mask. As I told you Zoé, I value my privacy." He let her go, and Zoé stumbled back a bit, though continuing to keep her balance. She straightened her skirt out before looking at him, that amused look still painted over his half concealed face.
"Do we have an understanding, Zoé?" he asked. Zoé was still swimming in the scent of sandalwood and resin, but she would be able to focus enough to look back at him.
"Under one condition," she said, earning a hateful look from him. He raised a gloved hand, only to be beat by Zoé. "Monsieur, you want me to keep quiet about your mask... and I assume you don't want me to speak of it either?" the look in his eyes answered her enough. She would nod, not smiling or seeming to take any pride in the fact that she had him cornered. "I promise I won't, if you tell me your name."
"You are the one indebt to me! You have no right to make demands," he hissed angrily.
"This is a favor. If you are to be so informal with me, then I will be informal with you," she responded calmly. "I honor my word Monsieur, and all I wish is a name. Something that small cannot be so terrible." He was livid, but Zoé remained calm, his own childish temper acting out across his face, his fists clenching and relaxing before those broad shoulders dropped.
"Erik, it is Erik," he nearly spat the name at her before he extended a gloved hand. "You have your answer, now I think it is time for you to leave my woods." Zoé would nod, bending down to pick up her drawing materials.
"As you wish, Monsieur Larocque," she did not want to sting him with his own name. She gave him a wide berth as she moved south to where she entered, and even though he was out of sight, Zoé swore she could feel his eyes boring into her neck.
XxXxXxXx
The next few days were cold, both in the fact that Zoé could only return to her favorite tree twice, and both times could only stay for a short time before the frigid wind caused her to shake, and the fact that she did not hear nor see a sign of Monsieur Larocque in her visits. Although blaming the frigid weather could be enough, she doubt it was for that reason alone that he refused to enter the woods. Curiosity had gotten the best of her, and Zoé did not expect to have any more company on her daily travels.
That acceptance caused Zoé to gasp in alarm as the black and tan dog she had seen nearly a week earlier bounded over to her. Coming to a stop a few feet away, it cautiously approached Zoé who was sitting on one of the exposed roots, her legs tucked to the side as she read. Putting her book down, she held out a hand to the dog, who approached, sniffing heavily. It's silky hair danced over her palm, and soon it was close enough for her to pet. He was a lean dog, like a running hound, but not as large. After a few pets on that narrow head, the dog came closer, promptly sitting in front of Zoé and allowing her to pet him. She smiled, but the sound of crunching leaves made both look up, watching Monsieur Larocque approach. Concealing a small smile, Zoé looked back down at the dog, running her hand over the dog's barrel chest, "Your dog is beautiful."
He didn't respond, moving to stand a few meters away, leaning against a young leafless tree. Zoé glanced up at him, then back down to the dog, trying to come up with something to talk about. His eyes were still sharp on her, but she was doing her best to ignore it. "I've never seen a dog like this... what is it?"
"A saluki," he answered briefly, causing Zoé to look up at him curiously. He sighed, "It is a dog breed that originates in Persia. A friend of mine brought him to France as a gift for me."
"His name is Daroga?" Zoé asked, the dog's hanging ears perked at the name, and she laughed gently, petting the dog under it's chin. "Glad he knows his own name."
"I wouldn't take him hunting if he didn't," Monsieur Larocque moved a bit closer, coming to sit across from her on another exposed root.
"Do you hunt in these woods a lot Monsieur?" she wanted to keep the conversation going, on him, and on a neutral topic that he seemed okay with. He looked up at her, almost confusion, was it because she wasn't using his first name? Zoé could only speculate as he answered.
"Yes, but he does better on open terrain. The rabbits have thinned out in my gardens and these woods, so there is not a lot to hunt."
"You could use my lands if you wish," Zoé offered gently. "I know Sebastien has been wanting me to get a terrier or something to hunt the rabbits in our garden, but I cannot do with those small dogs. Nor can I get someone to train a dog to hunt rabbits anyway. This way, you get your sport and my grounds keeper will have an easier time with the garden." She looked up from the dog, watching a crease form in his forehead, but it would ease somewhat when he realized she was watching him.
"I will... consider it," he said cautiously, and Zoé would just nod with a smile. It was a small victory, and she would not press the issue any farther. The peace in that woods would fall back over the woods, the dog leaning comfortably against Zoé, and the two talking about hunting, which Zoé knew very little about. The rest of the week consisted of walks and talking, Daroga rushing ahead of them as the two would talk about politics, literature, art, music, especially music. She did her best to keep away from anything that may upset him, and if she said something that did upset him, she did her best to redirect to a better topic.
