A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to update; school was crap this week, so if you want to blame something for my lack of updates, blame calculus (Rachel will know what I am talking about) Anyway, thank you all for the lovely reviews, I greatly appreciate the feedback. Without further ado, your chapter!
I only emerged from my room when I was sure that he was gone, when I heard the gentle sloshing of the boat on the water. I waited until the noise disappeared completely, then walked tentatively down the stairs. My little seclusion had given me time to think about what had just happened, and I had come to the conclusion that Erik was not, in fact, insane.
Now, that did not mean he wasn't somehow damaged; he was without doubt the greatest emotional wreck I had ever met, and I had met some very strange people. No, he had obviously been hurt a great deal, but that did not make him crazy, necessarily. Subject to violent mood swings, yes, but a complete psychopath, no. And I ought to know; having been engaged to one, I certainly ought to be able to recognize one now.
With this conclusion came a desperate desire to help him in some way, but the reasonable part of my mind pushed it aside. Whether or not I could do anything for him was entirely up for debate; if I tried, and it turned out I could do nothing, then I would just be stuck here wasting my time when I should be getting myself further away from Leon. And even if it was possible for me to help him, was it really my responsibility to do so? Had I wasted all twenty-eight years of my life only to learn nothing? I was responsible for myself, and should act accordingly, as Erik so obviously was. As soon as I was strong enough, in a day or two, I would take some provisions, steal myself a horse, and go to Marseilles, as originally planned. I could be cold-hearted. Really. I would just leave.
Who was I trying to fool? Whether or not I admitted it, I owed to Erik a debt of gratitude. He had saved my life twice now, allowed me to live in his home when he so plainly preferred solitude, and comforted me when my conscience ate at my soul. I knew that he did not trust me; his recent actions fully persuaded me that some woman had hurt him, and as a result, he did not trust any woman. I had to at least be kind to him; I could not let him continue to believe that the entire world was cruel and uncaring.
There was something in my character that my imprisonment should have destroyed, a desire to be gentle and comforting, that I had convinced myself was gone the day I left Alsace. But it was there still, an intrinsic part of my nature, weakness though it may have been.
I took a book with me when I left my room, to amuse myself until Erik returned; a German book on architecture. My grasp of the German language had always been good, living as I had so close to the border, near the Rhine river. And even if I hadn't been able to read it, the illustrations were lovely. I sat in a large, red, velvet covered chair that was wide enough I could curl up in it and tuck my legs underneath me.
The drawing I opened the book to look so much like my home in Alsace that I found tears coming to my eyes. Our town was built in the same style as the German villages, and the homes of the nobility were modeled after German castles. This particular drawing showed a gothic church set on a hill overlooking a town, and looked exactly like the church I had been baptized in when my Grandfather brought me to live with him, and later been put on trial outside of. I couldn't bring myself to turn the page, just stared at that one drawing while tears rolled down my cheeks. I had not realized how much I missed the home where I had spent the last twelve years of my life. That past seemed so far away, just as the first sixteen years of my life had seemed so distant when I went to live in Alsace.
While purchasing food, Erik had plenty of time to think things over. He resolved that from now on, for as long as it was necessary for Remy to stay with him, he would not let her get to him the way she had. He had to remain cold- not cruel, just distant- if he wanted to survive. He would treat her with respect and with hospitality, but she was not his friend, and he could not allow himself to think of her as such. He could not let the expressiveness of her eyes make him believe that she in any way cared for him. And he would not be fooled by the gentleness of her touch on his arm, and the way she cradled his hands in her delicate ones. And he would not let himself remember with any satisfaction the way it had felt to have her arms around him. No, he would not make the same mistake again.
He had spent his entire life being distanced from the world, he should certainly be able to distance himself from Remy. Never mind that there was something in her voice that drew him in, and a touch of sadness in her smile that made him believe that she understood him. This was a part that he could play with ease; the part of a man without a heart and soul.
He mentally prepared himself as he crossed the lake, ready to shut his emotions out. But apparently, Remy had no desire to cooperate with his attempts.
She looked like a child, curled up in his chair, with her legs tucked under her, and her head resting against the side of the chair. She held a book on her lap, and tears fell from her beautiful blue eyes, gleaming on her cheeks in the low candlelight. His resolve shook, but did not break completely. He could be kind without giving in to his weakness, sympathetic without becoming invested in her sorrow.
When she saw him walking towards her, she quickly brushed the tears off her face and looked up at him.
"I didn't hear you coming. I was just reading, and..." She trailed off, gesturing to the book.
"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Hungry?"
"No, I'm fine, really. Just...just homesick, I suppose." She looked so ashamed of herself that he found himself reaching his hand out to wipe the tears that continued to trail down her cheeks, but withdrew his hand quickly when he realized what he was doing.
"Homesick?" Never having had a real home of any kind, it was a hard thing for him to imagine.
"Well, I don't miss the prison and all that, but it was my home. I don't know, maybe I just miss being outdoors." She had a faraway look in her eyes, that made his heart ache. Of course, she must hate it here in the darkness with him. No one was meant to live like this, certainly not a beautiful girl like her. She seemed to realize what he was thinking, and quickly amended her statement. "Not that I don't like it down here, but it does get a bit...oppressive."
"Come with me." He held his hand out to her, and she took it, gracefully lifting herself from the chair, looking at him quizzically. He ignored the question in her eyes, and led her to the boat.