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Noir50
With his eyes locked on Corinna, Erik walked around the desk, his heart pounding so hard that he could hear the blood pulsing in his ears.
He hesitated when he stood before her, his arms straight at his sides, his throat dry. His every thought was trained on reaching for her hand, for her face, for her body.
Instead, he dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and grimaced at the self-inflicted pain. She said nothing, but Erik knew she was aware of what he had done.
Corinna reached first and took his hand, slowly running her fingers over the indentations created by his fingernails. With a subtle smile, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"I will return you to your room so you may rest," she said softly as she nuzzled his neck.
Erik turned his face before Corinna pulled away. She let out a gasp as their lips met, though despite her sound of surprise she didn't pull away. She abandoned his hand in favor of linking her arms at the back of his neck, and before he knew it, Erik was backed up against the desk with Corinna pressed to his chest.
It was exactly as he remembered, as he often dreamed at night. The warmth of their embrace was the most comforting thing he had experienced in years. She smelled faintly of lime, her lips tasting sweet from the wine they enjoyed.
"This," she said against his mouth, "is not resting, my love."
He didn't reply. He didn't want to reply, to break the spell that had come over him the moment her hand had touched his. Her caress peeled back the fifteen years that stood between them. Each wasted day disappeared, as the time they had spent by the Hughli River slowly returned.
His hands, which had been placed firmly against her back, slowly ran down to her hips and up to her ribs until his fingers swept across the curve of her breast.
Erik exhaled hard as his thumb grazed the hardened peak. He heard her groan softly as she leaned into him, her hands running through his hair, her thighs pressed against his. He could feel the maddening warmth of her skin through her clothing.
Corinna was panting when she pulled away at last. She cupped his face in her hands and smiled as she looked him in the eye.
"Rest," she said, locking his fingers with hers.
Erik obeyed her words but held her close a moment longer, listening to her breath, feeling her heartbeat.
"Stay with me," he whispered boldly.
"Not tonight. The temptation is far too great," she said, running her fingers down his spine. "And the wine? The wine will make the night lonely for both of us, I'm afraid."
Erik stepped away from Corinna before expectations became far too much to resist. Hand in hand he walked her to down the hall to her room.
"I will see you in the morning," she promised him before he padded barefoot upstairs to his own bedchamber.
Morning was announced by the lamp on the desk rattling and the headboard vibrating against the wall. Alarmed, Erik sat up in bed and searched the darkened room, uncertain of what was happening.
"Stop running!" a woman ordered in French.
Erik laid back, a smile creeping onto his lips. It was Ursula. Her voice still sounded as stern and commanding as ever, though her grasp of the French language had improved significantly over the years. Erik wondered if she had married a Frenchman or an Indian.
"You'll wake the whole house!" Ursula snapped.
"Too late," Erik whispered to himself, finding he was far more amused than annoyed by the cacophony. He sat upright and moved from the bed to the window. Once the curtains were tied back the room flooded with light. Erik squinted a moment before his eyes adjusted.
Corinna stood in the center of the snow-dusted garden feeding crumbs to the sparrows. She was dressed in a deep blue cloak that revealed nothing but her face and her hands. Mesmerized, he watched her as he listened to Ursula and her sons in the hall.
"May we return home?" a boy whined.
"No. What have I told you? Sit quietly."
"Mother!" the boy groaned.
"The master of the house has arrived," Ursula replied. "Omar, quit hitting your brother. All of you! Downstairs lest you want a good swat."
Again the lamp rattled as they tore down the stairs, apparently racing each other. Erik could hear Ursula grumbling as she followed them down.
Within moments the boys appeared in the courtyard and frightened the birds Corinna had been feeding. A dozen sparrows fluttered away, chirping as their meal was interrupted.
With her hands on her hips, Corinna shook her head at them. Erik could barely hear her voice muffled through the door as she told them to behave themselves before their mother gave them a good swat.
The oldest of the three looked to be about ten. He grabbed his two younger brothers by the hands and dragged them back into the home, which made them cry out in protest.
Once they were gone Erik dressed in the fresh clothing he found within the armoire. He started to leave his room but paused, his hand grasping the porcelain doorknob.
The children were strangers to him. If one of them saw him in the hall…
Erik stepped away from the door. The mask he had worn for years was no longer in the room to provide comfort, to offer him a shield. In broad daylight there was nothing to hide the scars. If he chose to walk into the hall they would see him.
And then what? He asked himself. Suffer their ridicule? Wait for them to stare and ask politely to leave the room?
The longer he hesitated the more impossible it was to think clearly. His palms began to sweat, his throat growing dry. From the corner of his eye Erik saw his reflection in the dressing mirror.
He was clothed as any other man: a white lawn shirt, dark woolen trousers, and impeccable shoes. He was much too thin, he knew, but in time that would change. In a week or two the gauntness would give way to health again.
But that face.
When he had first been burned he could still close his eyes and see his face as it had once been, when the skin on both sides was smooth, when his flesh was not bubbled and marred.
As time passed he forgot what he once looked like. In solitude his perception became twisted, warped like wood left in the rain. When he looked into the mirror he saw both sides changed, both sides made terrible, ghastly, unrecognizable as a human face.
He saw a monster.
Soon, he felt the beast within grow, feral and frightening. Inside he was bitter and frightened and alone.
Because of his damned face.
Erik stood before the mirror and heard laughter, though he wasn't certain if it was in his mind or real. He could still hear the gasp of total horror, of sheer repulsion when Christine had removed the mask. Above all else he had come to fear the reactions of others.
"Eck," came Ursula's voice followed by pounding at his bedroom door.
His eyes darted around the room as he searched for something to cover his face. Unable to find anything suitable, he placed his hand over the scars and walked to the door.
"It is you," Ursula said when she saw him standing there.
He nodded, unable to find his voice.
Ursula had changed over the years. The familiar stern face had softened around the eyes and mouth. She looked younger than her years despite a few strands of silver running through her straight black hair. She appeared content.
"Are you joining us for breakfast?" she asked.
"You have children," he said obtusely as he turned away.
She chuckled to herself. "You heard them, then? I apologize. They're quite spirited. Sometimes I think they're a wild herd. Their father, he spoils them. I suppose all men are proud to have three sons despite their behavior."
Erik nodded as he stood with his back to her. It had been so long since he had seen her that he didn't know what to say to her or how to act. He wanted to tell her how pleased he was to see she had a family, but she had always kept her distance from him, as she did not wholly trust his intentions with Corinna.
"You look well," she continued, though Erik was certain she was being polite. "Thin, perhaps, but well."
As much as he wanted to pull his hand from his face and turn toward her, Erik couldn't bring himself to do it. He was suddenly wondering what he was doing in this house, in this room.
The thought surprised him. There was potential here, potential to find happiness at last. He didn't want to doubt that he belonged here, in the house he had designed, in the home built with his funds.
But he couldn't stop thinking of all that had transpired in the years since he had last seen Corinna and Ursula.
"Your French is quite good," he blurted out once he realized she had stopped speaking.
"I have lived here long enough to learn," she explained. "My husband is a French-born Indian. He has helped me learn."
Erik turned partially toward her and forced a smile, feeling increasingly awkward with each passing second. He fought the urge to walk from the room, storm down the stairs, and blindly return to the world beyond the palazzo walls. It made his stomach tighten when he thought of fleeing.
"It's good to see you," Ursula said softly. "I…I worried about you when you disappeared. We all did. When Corinna said she thought she knew where you were…" her voice trailed off, and Erik turned to face her, peering at her through his fingers. "She refused to give up hope."
The children bounded up the stairs again but then galloped down the opposite hall. Ursula gritted her teeth at the sound and shook her head.
"I'm glad you've returned," she said as she looked him in the eye. "Corinna is quite pleased," Ursula smiled before she turned and walked out of the room.
Erik stood stock still, more uncertain of himself than ever before.
And wondering if everything would change after Corinna saw him in the light of day.