"Please, Monsieur, I will do anything…only do not say a word to him."
Nadir looked at the woman kneeling before him. It was not the first time he had seen a woman prostrate herself before him.
On many occasions, as he fulfilled his duties as the Daroga of Manzandaran, he had watched women weep at his feet, pleading for mercy for a husband or son condemned by the Shah.
This Comtessa had that same look, a quiet desperation that was most unnerving. It was all the proof he needed that she was indeed there of her own accord.
"There is no reason to kneel. I will not say anything to Erik."
Leaning down, he helped her to her feet, her voice breaking as she thanked him.
As she smoothed her skirt, she tried to regain her composure. If Erik returned, she did not want him to see her agitated.
She picked up the ibrik again to pour some coffee for herself when they heard the sound of the heavy portcullis grinding upward.
As the plain black boat came into view, Helene went down the steps to the lake to wait for Erik.
She caught her breath as watched him pole it to the edge and leapt ashore, his cape swirling around his tall body as he came towards her.
He caught her by her waist and drew her against him, the cloak wrapping around her body as he kissed her, letting his mouth trail from her lips to her throat.
"Erik," she whispered, "we have a guest."
"A guest?"
"Yes, Monsieur Nadir is here to see you," she told him, reluctantly pushing herself from his arms.
He let her go, but kept one hand on the small of back…a gesture that was at once possessive and protective.
"Daroga! I did not expect to see you here. I called at your apartment, but Darius said he did not know where you had gone."
"You were supposed to call last night. I was worried that you had met with some misfortune."
Erik laughed. It was the first time Nadir had heard that sound without an undertone of bitterness or sarcasm.
"No misfortune, old friend. Quite the opposite. I should like to speak with you alone."
"I will leave you," Helene said, picking up the tray.
"No, stay where you are. This won't take a moment."
As Helene put away the coffee service, Erik led Nadir into the passage that led out to the Rue Scribe.
She heard their voices, speaking in a language she could not understand. Persian?
When Erik returned to her, he was alone. In his hands, he held a small parcel in his hands, a little bundle wrapped in purple silk.
He set in down on the desk, finally removing his cloak and gloves.
"Come, Helene," he said, unfolding the silk, "I have something for you."
He motioned for her to join him at the desk and, when she stood beside him, he lifted a necklace from the purple folds.
Helene was accustomed to fine jewelry. She had inherited her grandmother's pieces, some of which dated back to the reign of The Sun King. Theo, too, had been very fond of giving her such gifts, often to ease his conscious after some affair.
But she had never seen anything more beautiful that the heavy strand of pearls and gems that lay in Erik's hands.
He held it out to her, gleaming and coiled on his palm.
There was something strangely touching, almost heartbreaking about the way he offered it to her with a hopeful look in his eyes.
Like a penitent making an offering an altar…or a child who hopes to please, but is afraid of offending…
So unlike Theo who would just casually toss some pretty trinket into her lap.
She turned and flung her arms around him without a word, just needing to be close to him.
He had not expected her abrupt embrace and she heard the soft clatter of the necklace slipping from his hand.
She buried her face against his shoulder, never wanting to release him.
"Just hold me, Erik. Please, hold me."
He did as she asked, leaning back against the desk and supporting the easy weight of her body against him.
When she reached up to stroke the cool curves of his mask, she felt him take a deep, wavering breath…a sigh of unfamiliar content that was warm and reassuring against her forehead.
There was only silence between them for a long time, silence and the low tick of the battered casket clock.
She did not want to think anymore, to worry, even to hope. She only wanted to feel the closeness of him.
There is only Erik…only Erik…only you, Erik.
Steadying her against him, he reached back and lifted the necklace from the chair where it had fallen.
He took one of her hands and unfolded her fingers.
"Take it, Helene," he said, pressing it onto her palm.
She opened her eyes almost reluctantly, not wanting to lose that still intimacy.
She looked at the necklace, two short entwined rows of large baroque pearls generously interspersed with random stones…amethysts, rubes, emeralds, sapphires, and golden topaz.
"Erik, it's exquisite," she said, watching the light leap across it, "please put it on me."
She turned and lifted her hair from her neck as he fastened the choker around her throat.
When he had secured the clasp, he slowly traced the contours of her shoulders with his thumb before bringing her to face him again.
She felt the cold gems warming to her skin as he took both her hands and brought them to his face.
When he spoke at last, his voice so low and rich that it seemed her soul tremble at the sound of it.