Returning home after his visit to his old Professor and Jesse Pomeroy, the notorious serial killer, Laszlo had come to one solid conclusion. He needed to reassess what he thought he knew. He needed to understand that the literature might not always be accurate. He spent his life researching, writing on the human mind, but the human mind was still a mystery to him. After seeing Pomeroy and trying to determine what had driven him to kill, Laszlo had seen that. He had tried to work it out. Had it been because his mother did not show him the love that he required as a child? Had he been mistreated? There had to be a reason as to why he behaved the way he did?
But it had been none of those reasons. It had been nothing along those lines. He simply killed those children because he had wanted to. Visiting Pomeroy had brought Laszlo to the conclusion that he perhaps did not know everything. He had to open up his mind to new possibilities, especially because this killer did not conform to theories Laszlo had.
He had changed quickly into his evening wear and was waiting back in the foyer for Elizabeth. When he had returned, Cyrus had told him where she had been with Sara that afternoon. Nodding, Laszlo wondered why she had taken Sara to the graveyard. What was it that had driven her to go back there? Laszlo knew how she visited the grave of her unborn son every so often, taking fresh flowers to lay by his headstone.
He intended to ask her about it, but when he got back he found that she was already bathing and preparing for dinner, Mary helping her as per usual. And so Laszlo suspected that it would have to wait. He paced the foyer, his cane dangling in his fingertips before she came down the stairs, dressed in a satin green dress with a low neckline, Mary carrying her coat.
"Am I running late?" Elizabeth enquired from him and he shook his head.
"I am simply early," he told her. "You look lovely this evening."
"Why, thank you," she said and he saw the smile on her face alongside the blush forming on her cheeks. Mary helped her tug on her red coat, smoothing out her collar and pulling her hair from underneath it. Elizabeth smiled over to the maid who gave her shoulder a squeeze and Laszlo then offered her his arm.
"Shall we?" he enquired.
"Yes," she said, hand resting in the crook of his arm. She walked forwards with him, letting him hold the door open and then help her into the carriage as she tried not to trip over the swathes of skirt that tugged around her ankles. Sitting on the seat, Laszlo sat across from her, adjusting the leather gloves on his fingertips.
"How was your day?" Elizabeth asked as the carriage began to move, jumping up and down on the cobbled road.
"It has only gotten better as it has gone on," Laszlo said and she arched her brow. "I went to see my old Professor after the argument with Miss Howard. He humoured me and told me that I needed to look beyond the theories and what I think I know. A visit to Jesse Pomeroy confirmed that."
Elizabeth's eyes widened. "The serial killer?" she asked from him.
He nodded. "I worked with him after he had first been arrested," Laszlo said to her. "I wondered why he had decided to kill the children that he had killed. I wondered what had motivated him. All of the existing works would suggest that it was because of past childhood trauma, just like I think our killer has suffered, but it was none of that. He simply killed those children because he wanted to. There was no theory behind it. There was no rationale. Only he knows why he did what he did and I cannot work it out."
Elizabeth gulped, feeling saliva pool back into her mouth with the motion. She laced her hands together on her lap. "And what conclusion did you reach?"
"That I do not know everything. I do not know as much as I think I know," Laszlo responded.
"And you're fine?" she checked with him.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I will be," he said. "It might just take me some time to work out why our killer is behaving as he is."
"Well…" Elizabeth said, not entirely certain what she should say in response to him after his sudden declaration. How did one steer conversation back to a normal topic? But, thankfully, Laszlo was the one who spoke next.
"Cyrus informed me that you travelled to the graveyard today…that you took Miss Howard with you," Laszlo said and Elizabeth should have expected this topic of conversation to come up. She knew that Cyrus had been following her, Laszlo having become even more protective since the delivery of the letter.
"I did," Elizabeth confirmed to him.
"May I ask why?" Laszlo queried.
"You may," she responded, "but I don't know if I have the answer for you, Laszlo. It just felt right. It felt natural."
"And how did she react?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "How would you expect someone to react?" she simply questioned him back.
"I see," Laszlo said, getting the sense that Elizabeth didn't entirely want to talk about what had happened. She turned her gaze out of the window, looking at the passing street before Laszlo did the same, the two of them lapsing into silence.
Once they were outside of the restaurant, they went through the usual protocol of being led to their table. This time, the table was in the corner of the room, the chatter a low hum around them. Elizabeth settled down across from Laszlo after he had pulled her chair out. He sat to her right and ordered wine to begin with, his eyes glancing around the restaurant. The two of them had been particularly silent, the only sound the noise of chatter around them and the soft hum of a violinist. Elizabeth looked to the flowers in the middle of the table, her hand moving to run over one of the yellow petals and snap Laszlo from his daydream.
"I apologise," he said to her and she looked up to him. "My behaviour is not exactly one of a good date."
Elizabeth's lips picked up. "I don't think I'm entirely the epitome of a good date either," she responded to him and he continued to smile gently as their wine was brought to them and Laszlo ordered their food, Elizabeth moving her hands back to her lap.
"It seems that we both have things on our mind," Laszlo said.
"I suppose we do," she replied.
His mind was still on the events of the day while Elizabeth could not stop thinking about what she had told Sara and the events of her past. She suspected that she would never be able to stop thinking about that for as long as she lived. Once the waiter had disappeared, Laszlo turned his attention back to Elizabeth.
"Perhaps we should not have come for dinner," he said.
"No," she quickly replied, not wanting him to feel that they had made the wrong decision. She bit down on her bottom lip for a moment before reaching her hand out to his on the table, letting it rest on top of his fingers. "Let's just try and enjoy dinner, yes? And I can tell you all about how Mary almost let a chicken escape when I returned home this evening."
His lips did arch upwards at that while Elizabeth reached for her own glass of wine. She took a sip of the sweet liquid, letting it sit on her tongue for a moment before swallowing it down. Placing the glass down, she felt Laszlo turn her hand over so that it was underneath his, his grip on it tight and his thumb roaming over her fingers.
"Mary almost let a chicken escape?" he checked with her.
"Indeed," Elizabeth said. "I helped her try and chase after it, but do you know how hard it is to catch a chicken?"
"I confess that I have never tried to catch a chicken," he responded.
"Well, it is incredibly hard," Elizabeth said. "So we might have given the neighbours something to gossip about."
Laszlo scoffed. "You know that they already consider me unorthodox," he said nonchalantly. "Besides, I noticed old Mrs Jones watching me leave this morning with you. No doubt she had read the papers. You know what a gossip she can be."
"And you are certain that you are still happy being with me?"
"Happier than I have been in a long time," Laszlo promised her.
"Despite the serial killer, I assume?" she responded.
Laszlo chuckled darkly. "Yes, despite the case," he promised her and leant over the table slightly, pressing his lips against her cheek and sitting back down at the same moment a familiar figure stood in front of them.
"I hope I'm not interrupting."
Elizabeth looked up and over to Miss Howard, wondering what she was doing there. She let go of Laszlo's hand and he moved his back to his lap while she took hold of her wine.
"Miss Howard," Laszlo greeted her. "What brings you here?"
"I do not intend to be stay," she said. "I simply have an errand to run and I was informed that I would find you here."
"Please, have a seat," Laszlo gestured to the chair on his other side. Sara looked to Elizabeth, almost as though she wanted her permission. Elizabeth found that particularly funny. Sara Howard was not a woman who required permission from anyone, let alone Elizabeth. Motioning to the seat, Elizabeth set her a smile she hoped was encouraging.
"You're not interrupting," Elizabeth promised her and Laszlo stood up, pulling the chair out for her. She settled down in the seat and Laszlo returned to his own chair.
"I am only here to inform you that the commissioner has a suspect," Sara said, "and he would like your help in identifying him."
"I see," Laszlo said.
"Is that not a good thing?" Elizabeth enquired.
"It depends," Laszlo responded, looking across to her, "on whether or not he has the right suspect."
Laszlo reached for the bottle of wine in the middle of the table and poured Sara a glass. He handed it across to her and she picked it up, taking a sip of it. Laszlo noted the way she didn't look particularly thrilled to drink it, her nose wrinkling and her face contorting slightly.
"You do not like the wine?" he asked from her.
"It is delicious," she responded, setting the glass down.
"You are not being truthful," Laszlo continued pushing.
"The truth is that I much prefer whiskey," Sara said to him and her comment made him chuckle while Elizabeth smirked down into her lap at the woman's bluntness.
"Well," Laszlo said, catching the eye of a waiter. "Can you bring the lady a whiskey?"
"Make it three," she said and Elizabeth looked up from her lap. Shaking her head, she knew that there was no chance she could drink whiskey, but the waiter was already walking away. Sara continued to speak. "I was raised as an only child by my father. He taught me to drink whiskey. He said that if I were to get ahead in a man's world then I had to drink like a man. However, it did take me many years to accustom myself to the taste."
Laszlo sat back in his seat, eyeing Sara with intrigue. "And what else did your father teach you?"
"To ride, to shoot, and to live without fear of my own convictions," she said to him and Elizabeth wondered what it must have been like to grow up with a father like that. Her father had always scolded her for not acting ladylike when she had been growing up. He had always treated her delicately, never once encouraging her to get ahead in the world or forge her own path. She had only one path and that was to marry well and secure a husband who would look after her.
"So what more can you tell me about this suspect?" Laszlo wondered from her.
"The commissioner only stated that he comes from wealth and privilege and he asked me to look at police records. So far, I have discovered files on individuals who have been accused of improper behaviour with children who are approximately the same age as our victims," Sara said. "I found these two to be the most of interest. One is a man who is unmarried and spends his time at children's charities, but his name has been redacted," she handed Laszlo the piece of paper and Elizabeth remained mute, simply listening with intent. "And then I found this," she held out another piece of paper that she had been carrying.
"Bishop Henry Potter," Laszlo read the name.
"A bishop?" Elizabeth asked, shock in her voice.
"He claimed that there had been a misunderstanding in what had happened to a young boy. He claimed it had been roughhousing, but roughhouse that had sent the him to the hospital."
"No one winds up in hospital because of fooling around," Elizabeth said and they both looked to her as she took a particularly long drink of her wine. Laszlo knew there was hidden meaning behind her words and he glanced over in her direction. She nodded her head at him, silently assuring him that she was fine and he dropped the papers onto the table.
"I believe it might be too early to make assumptions," he declared. "However, I must congratulate you on your police work, Miss Howard."
Before Sara could respond, another voice sounded from the side of the table.
"How can you dare show your face in public?"
Elizabeth's spine stiffened and she sat up straight. Looking to the side, she saw two familiar figures stood by the side of the table. The woman was small and slender, almost resembling a porcelain doll. The water placed the three glasses of whiskey down onto the table as Elizabeth let her eyes flicker between the two figures.
"Mrs Martins," Elizabeth said, looking at the woman with narrowed, green eyes and a pinched nose and lips. Her face looked thin and pale, wrinkles beginning to form on her forehead. But she still looked perfect. Her reputation would not allow her to look anything less. Glancing to the man, Elizabeth saw that he looked older too. His neck was thick and his blue eyes were still as piercing as ever. His hair had receded slightly.
"We saw the newspaper," Marianna Martins said as her husband, Barry Martins, remained silent. "So, my son was right, you were nothing but a common harlot all of this time."
"I never did anything," Elizabeth said to them, shaking her head. "I never wanted any of this to happen."
"Could have fooled us," Barry said, his voice low and deep.
Laszlo stood up then, looking between the two of them. "Miss Morris and I purely had a platonic relationship while she was married to your son," Laszlo informed the couple. "And I think we both know your anger at Miss Morris is misplaced. It is your son who should have born the brunt of your rage."
"Our son never did anything," Marianna hissed, not wanting to make a scene. She kept her voice low, her glare turning onto Laszlo. "And you were the one who ruined his marriage. You were the one who could not help yourself from taking another man's wife."
"He did not such thing," Elizabeth said, feeling herself begin to shake. She felt sick. She almost wanted the ground to swallow her up. "Laszlo was the one who helped me when your son put me in hospital."
"He never laid a finger on you," Barry said.
"How can you believe that?"
"Because our son was a good boy," Marianna continued. "And you killed him, just like you killed his child. And now you have the audacity to go running around with this man…the man you whored yourself to."
"Enough," Laszlo snapped, voice rising and anger getting the better of him. The married couple turned their attention back to Laszlo as Elizabeth chewed the inside of her cheek, feeling dizzy as her stomach threatened to churn. "She was your daughter-in-law. She was part of your family and you can stand there and you can plead ignorance, but I know that you are not stupid. Or, at least, I assume you are not. And, even if you are, you are not blind. If I saw the bruises she concealed then so did you."
They went silent then. Jacob's parents knew. Elizabeth knew that they knew. But they had a reputation to uphold and Elizabeth threatened to ruin that reputation. They could never have that.
"You lie," Barry snapped.
"How can you say that?" Sara suddenly asked, unable to hold her tongue any longer. They all glanced to her and she looked between the two parents in disbelief, her mouth parted. They almost squirmed under her stare. "How can you accuse her of lying?"
"And what does this have to do with you? Don't tell me she has been telling her poisonous lies to anyone who will listen?" Marianna asked. "It seems to work on anyone who will listen to her. Is it those sad, pathetic doe eyes or her quivering bottom lip that sold it for you?"
"I know when someone tells me the truth and when someone lies," Sara responded.
"Clearly, you don't," Marianna said in a dark voice.
"I must insist that you leave us to our dinner," Laszlo said, knowing that Sara Howard could easily spar with them. She would be able to take them on with ease and he was well aware of that fact. But he didn't want to see it. He didn't want to make matters worse than they were.
"It would be our pleasure," Barry said, "but do not think that we believe anything you say. Whatever happened to our son was caused by you," he bent down at the waist, mouth close by Elizabeth's ear as he squeezed her shoulder. "You made him the way he was because you couldn't keep your legs closed. You killed him…you pathetic, worthless, little whore."
"Enough!" Laszlo snapped.
The entire dining room went quiet at the sound of him raising his voice and using his good hand to pull Barry's hand from Elizabeth. But she was already standing up. She left the dining room without another word. Sara jumped to her feet and Laszlo let go of Barry. He shook his head, looking between the two of them.
"You should feel ashamed for the way you treated her," he snarled at them, Sara leaving the hall and following Elizabeth. "Your son broke her."
"But you were more than happy to put her back together, isn't that right, Doctor?" Barry asked, a smug look on his face.
"I care for her," Laszlo hissed. "I care for her more than your son could ever care for her."
"People see you for what you both are," Marianna warned him.
Laszlo ignored her, grabbing hold of his cane and the papers and leaving the dining hall. People were whispering amongst themselves, no doubt what they had just witnessed about to be the talk of the town for the next few days. But Laszlo did not care. He came to the entrance of the restaurant, moving down the steps and seeing Joseph stood there. He looked to the young man as he carried two bottles of wine.
"Joseph, do you know where Miss Morris went?"
"Outside," Joseph said. "Miss Howard was chasing after her, but she didn't slow down."
Laszlo nodded and continued on his way, moving as quickly as his legs would take him. He headed down towards the street, seeing Cyrus stood by the carriage, clearly uncertain of which way to go. Did he chase after Elizabeth or wait for Laszlo?
"Cyrus," Laszlo only had to speak his name and the man was pointing down the street.
"She went that way," Cyrus said. "Miss Howard was following her."
"Wait here with Stevie for me," Laszlo encouraged him and he ran off, pushing by people who got in his way. He turned the corner after spotting a familiar blonde head with a hat on her head. He saw her at the other end of the street, but she had stood still. She had stood still and was peering down an alley. Laszlo slowed his pace, coming to a halt in front of Sara as she looked to him. He looked over her face for a moment before seeing that she was looking down the alley.
"Is she…what…"
Sara trailed off, uncertain of what she was witnessing. Laszlo looked down the alley to see Elizabeth crouched on the ground, her legs pulled up to her chest. She didn't even care about ruining her dress. She was rocking back and forth, panting for breath and Laszlo nodded to Sara.
"I can deal with this," Laszlo assured her in a low voice, moving down the alleyway to where she was sat.
He crouched down in front of her, using his cane to help him move. He looked to her and spoke in a low voice.
"You're alright, Elizabeth…you're away from them," he informed her.
She continued rocking softly, unable to sit still. Her eyes widened and Laszlo noted how wet they were. He saw her cheeks were red and her hair was sticking to them.
"The way he…he put his hand on my shoulder…it was like him, Laszlo…and what he called me…Jacob…he would always call me that. And I just saw him. I looked at his father and I saw him and I was back there. I was back with him and…" she trailed off and Laszlo shook his head.
Reaching for her, he placed his good hand onto her knee. "You don't need to explain yourself to me," he promised her. "I understand, Elizabeth."
"He's gone…but he still…it's like he's still here," she gasped out and Laszlo shook his head.
"He's gone," he promised her. "I swear to you that he is gone…and his parents…everything they said…it was wrong. Everything they said was wrong and they know it. They know that they are lying to themselves and they have to live with that."
"They seem to be able to live with it quite easily," Elizabeth responded and she gulped.
"Then let them," Laszlo said, "but it will eat up at them eventually and you…you are better off away from that family."
"I know," Elizabeth assured him and he reached out his hand, turning it so that his palm was facing up on her knee, silently asking for her to take his hand.
"Let's go home," Laszlo said to her. "Let me take you home, Elizabeth."
She nodded her head and moved her hand into Laszlo's. He stood up and helped her to her feet. He reached for his suit jacket and shrugged out of it. He draped it around her shoulders, ensuring that it sat there securely before he moved his free hand out, running it along her upper arms.
"You're freezing," he commented.
"I'm fine," she promised him, pulling at the lapels of his jacket.
"Come on," Laszlo encouraged her. He moved his good arm out around her shoulders, holding onto her as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to keep warm. Laszlo lowered his gaze to look down to her as they left the alley. He noted that her dress was covered in dirt from where she had sunk to the ground, the two of them no doubt looking a state.
"Sara…" Elizabeth said, seeing the young woman. "Do you need a ride home? Laszlo, can we take her back home?"
"Of course," Laszlo nodded.
"Oh, no," Sara shook her head. "I can make my own way home."
"Please," Elizabeth urged from her. "You came running after me. The least we can do is make sure you get home safely."
"It will make her feel better," Laszlo said to Sara and she knew that he knew what he was doing. He was using Elizabeth's feelings against her. And so Sara nodded. Elizabeth felt Laszlo's hand squeeze her shoulder as they walked down the street, heading back to Cyrus and Stevie. Sitting in the carriage, Laszlo took the seat next to Elizabeth, her arm brushing his as Sara sat across from them.
Looking at the pair of them, Sara had to admit that she was seeing a different side to Laszlo. He kept his gaze on Elizabeth, his hand holding onto hers as she looked down to her lap. The way he hovered around her was attentive, almost caring and tender, something that Sara had not seen from Laszlo before.
"This is me," Sara said as the carriage drew to a halt. "Thank you for the ride."
"Thank you, Miss Howard," Laszlo said.
"Yes…thank you…for everything," Elizabeth said, catching her eye. They exchanged a knowing look. Sara nodded firmly and Cyrus held the door open for her. She left the carriage and moved towards her house.
Only once she was safely inside did Laszlo tell Stevie that they could go. The two of them were silent for the first few minutes before Elizabeth spoke, her voice low and husky.
"Is that all I am to be?" she wondered from him. "Is that all people will ever see me as? Laszlo Kreizler's whore?"
"Never refer to yourself as that again," Laszlo growled at her, turning his upper body so that he could look down onto her, his hand going to hold her cheek. "You are no such thing."
"But that's all they see me as," Elizabeth responded to him. "And I…I know that no matter what I do or what I say, no one will ever believe me."
"People who care about you, Elizabeth, they are the ones who believe you," he said to her. "And they are the people who you can rely on."
She shook her head. "I should never have let you get close to me. I can ruin you, Laszlo. I can ruin your reputation…I can hurt you."
"You could never hurt me," Laszlo informed her, his voice low and gruff.
"You never had to take me in," she whispered to him.
He shook his head, gulping once before he dared to speak. "I did," he promised her. "More for my own selfish reasons than out of selflessness."
She furrowed her brow and his lips arched.
"You still don't see it?" he asked from her. "I love you."
It was those three words. He said them to her and she looked at him, searching his gaze. He had softened considerably, looking at her as though she was the only thing that mattered. Jacob had told her that he loved her so many times before, but she wondered if he had ever meant it. And then he would tell her that he did things because he loved her. He stopped her from meeting her friends because he loved her. He only hurt her because he loved her. And she had begun to wonder if that was what love could possibly be. How could you love someone and hurt them?
"I spoke out of turn," Laszlo suddenly declared and Elizabeth realised that she had just been staring at him, lost in her own thoughts. "I should never have spoken-"
"-No," Elizabeth interrupted him as he peeled his hand from her cheek, but she reached for it, holding onto it tightly. "I let myself get caught up…thinking…and I…I just wasn't expecting it, Laszlo. I wasn't expecting you to say that to me."
Laszlo chuckled. "I confess, I hadn't thought that I would say it either," he admitted. "But I do. I fear I have loved you for a long time…when you were married…and I did not know how to stop myself. And I do not expect for you to say it back to me, Elizabeth. I have no notion of grand-"
"-I do," she interrupted him, knowing that he would continue rambling at her if she didn't say anything. "I do love you."
"You love me?" he questioned from her.
"I have done for a long time," she said with a nod of her head.
She wasn't lying to him. She had loved him, perhaps, from the moment she met him. She knew that it sounded cliché and something that would be best placed in one of her fictional novels, but she could still remember the concern he had showed. She had been taken with him since the beginning.
"You mean it?"
"Yes," she said and Laszlo continued smiling down to her.
"I…well…" he said and Elizabeth wanted to laugh at him.
"Is this the great Laszlo Kreizler lost for words?" she questioned him.
"For once, I am," he confessed.
"Miracles do happen," she teased him further, squeezing his hand before he felt the carriage draw to a halt. "Come on, we should go inside," she said to him.
They walked into the house, bidding a goodnight to Cyrus and Stevie. Elizabeth shrugged Laszlo's jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him as they remained in the entranceway by the bottom of the stairs. He took hold of it, draping it over his arm and reminding himself that he would send Stevie to fetch their coats from the restaurant in the morning.
"We should get some rest," Elizabeth commented, standing across from Laszlo.
"Yes," he agreed with her. "However, I confess I am not tired."
"Neither am I," Elizabeth agreed with him. She was anything but tired, running completely on adrenaline.
"Then…perhaps we could find something to eat? We didn't get a chance to eat dinner."
"That might be a good idea," she said with a nod. "I know where Mary keeps the cakes."
"Is cake a substantial meal?"
"No, but for this evening we don't need to have fine cuisine, do we? Besides, you might enjoy not being such a snob when it comes to food," she said, already walking to the kitchen, Laszlo's gaze falling to her back and looking at her dirtied dress. She didn't seem to care about that. Leaving his jacket over the bannister, he followed her down the hallway and into the kitchen.
She was moving around the room, opening cupboards and standing on her toes, looking for the food.
"Why does Mary hide cake?" Laszlo questioned, standing in the doorway. Finally, she pulled out a brown parcel and set it down on the side.
"I have a tendency to eat it as soon as she buys it," she admitted, unwrapping the material and reaching for two forks. She left the sponge on the plate and held out a fork to Laszlo. He walked forwards, taking the fork from her and stood by her side, tucking into the sponge.
"I assume that this is why my expenditure for food has risen then," he teased her, taking a bit of the sweet sponge. She rolled her eyes at him.
"You tease me," she commented.
"Only because I know how you blush when I do," he responded and she nudged him in the side with her elbow, hearing him chuckle. He bent down and kissed her on the top of her head. Her hair was mussed up from the evening and Laszlo let his cheek rest on top of her head. She finished off the last of the cake before dropping her fork and humming contently against his side.
She turned so that she was facing him and he lifted his head up. She moved her hand to his cheek, running her fingers along his beard for a few moments before she stepped closer to him. Laszlo picked up on the sign, dipping his head lower and allowing his lips to meet hers. He kissed her gently, wanting to take things steady after what had happened that evening. He didn't want it to feel like he was taking advantage of her. He never wanted her to feel that way. She moved a hand to the back of his neck, fingers pressing against his hair and tugging it softly. He groaned at the movement, his good arm wrapping around her waist to keep her tight against him.
"Laszlo," she gasped his name as he pulled his lips back from hers and he saw the flush on her neck and her parted lips. He let his forehead drop against hers and heard her dress rustle as she moved a hand into its skirts.
She moved again as she felt his warm breath against her cheek. She grabbed hold of his cheeks and kissed him once more, this time the motion more forceful. Laszlo felt her chest press against his, feeling every curve of her as he continued squeezing her tightly. He moved her backwards and towards the table, managing to just about pick her up and settle her there. She didn't move her lips from his as she pulled him in between her legs, her hand running down his chest and he moaned at the feeling, his good hand moving up and down her side, his lips slipping from hers and running along her jaw and down her neck. He heard her groan loudly as her hips pressed firmly against his. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he involuntarily bit down on her neck, but she didn't seem to mind judging by the way she gasped and tugged his hair.
"We should stop," Laszlo gasped out, managing to regain some composure as he gave one final kiss to the hollow of her throat. "The kitchen table is not exactly a proper place for such activities…and…and I do not want to ruin you."
"Laszlo, I don't think you need to worry about ruining me," she said to him. "But if this makes you uncomfortable then we can stop."
"Believe me, I would rather not," Laszlo promised her, "but this is not proper…I…a man should marry a woman before engaging in such activities."
"I have no notion of you wishing to marry me."
"Why would you say that?" Laszlo asked from her.
She shrugged. "I suppose it is that sense of doubt I always have with you," she replied to him and he shook his head.
"I am going nowhere," he assured her. "But I would prefer to do things right by you, Elizabeth…treat you how you should be treated."
She shook her head. "And I love that," she said to him. "But you are the same man who told me that there is no shame in giving into desire…that it is simply human nature to want to be intimate with someone…unless you don't want me like that?"
He whispered something in German then and Elizabeth wondered what it was, but he looked to the ceiling for a moment before glancing down to her again. "Elizabeth, it is not that," he said to her. "I…of course, I want you."
"And I want you too," she replied to him.
"But I worry that I would disappoint you."
She shook her head. "You would never disappoint me," she promised him, leaning into him and letting her lips run along his bearded cheek. He felt his breath hitch as she moved to his ear and whispered hotly against his skin. "I think about you…at night…when I'm alone…how you would feel," she kissed by his neck and felt him shudder. She had no idea what had gotten into her, but she didn't care. She knew that Laszlo, despite his confidence, still had insecurities. He was human after all. But she wanted him to see that she truly did want him. Nothing would put her off wanting or needing him. "I've wanted you for such a long time."
"You will be the death of me," he admitted and moved his head back before bending down and kissing her once more, the motion firm and forceful. But then he pulled back from her and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. The warmth of his body left hers and she felt disappointment pool in her stomach.
But then he held his hand out to her.
She looked at it and furrowed her brow.
"I have no intention of continuing our activities on the kitchen table," Laszlo said to her. "I would prefer to continue this in a more private location and preferably a comfortable one too."
"Oh," Elizabeth simply said and she climbed off of the table, taking hold of his hand. "Well, that sounds more amenable," she said and Laszlo's lips arched upwards before he tugged her away from the kitchen and up the staircase for the rest of the evening.
...
A/N: Still not sure if anyone is reading/enjoying, but would be great to hear your thoughts!