Congrats to Aishwarya Rai (the model for Lavanya) on her upcoming nuptials...what a beautiful bride she will make.
Thank you to all the new reviewers, you are most welcome and your opinion matters. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy lives to read my drivelings; what a special treat for me!!
Special thanks to my beta, Mlle.Fox, for all her hard work, suggestions, words of encouragement, words of constructive criticism; and most of all, for her friendship. You're the best!!
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 22
Jolted from his uncomfortable position on the makeshift bed, Erik grunted as he slammed against the floor with a resounding thud. He cast a hateful look at the small cavity in which he had tried to rest, but his long frame just did not fit comfortably into the cramped quarters.
Mumbling something racy under this breath, he finally recovered and stood up, only to knock his head against the low-hanging pole that secured the luggage. Expletives - colorful and noteworthy – flew from his beautiful lips with an ease he did not know he possessed.
It was a good thing that the ladies were not present, or he would have been six shades of red. He rubbed the soar bump that formed on top of his head and rolled his eyes. What a morning it was starting out to be. He hoped this did not set the mood for the rest of the day.
He had slept fitfully – if at all – and the haunting beauty of his soon-to-be wife prevented him from doing anything comfortably.
He hung his head in disgust as he stood in front of the small mirror, trying to do something with the mutinous waves of his gleaming, sable hair. Dark, deep eyes stared back at him with a disgusted scowl.
How many times had he dreamed of her through the night? More than he cared to remember. It seemed one scenario ended and another began, in close succession. He would wake up in a sweat with a distinct tent in his pants from his painful erection.
After what seemed like the hundredth time, he stayed awake; berating and chastising himself until the sun began to peak over the passing landscape.
This was where he found himself…looking at his unshaved, putrescent features and louring into the mirror.
He mumbled – calling himself every derogatory name in his vast vocabulary – covering the four languages he spoke fluently – but he still felt no better once the task was done.
Never mind the fact that he was trying to dry shave while he did this and the razor stretched his stubble to the point of yanking it out by the roots; he finally finished and felt blessed to have escaped the ordeal with no visible cuts.
Flustered, and suffering a burgeoning headache, he donned a clean, crisp shirt – dressed in all the usual finery, secured his mask in place, and vehemently threw the door open.
He cautiously entered the sitting area where he was greeted by two questioning sets of eyes and arched brows; it was apparent that they had heard much of his ranting.
He favored them both with tired, irritated eyes and arched his chiseled brow.
"We will be arriving in Paris in about twenty minutes, are you both ready?"
"We have been ready for a couple of hours, Erik."
The small compartment had never seemed as small as it did at that particular moment. His air supply seemed to shrink drastically and he wanted to pull at his shirt collar to rid himself of the suffocating feeling that swept over him.
Despite the sleep that was still evident in her ethereal eyes, Lavanya managed to look stunning and Erik's blood stirred – making him even more frustrated. He rolled his eyes and frowned.
I am a dead man…this whole ordeal is going to be the death of me.
They heard a knock on the outer door, and then a voice informed them of the next stop. It was time to gather luggage and get ready to get off the train.
♥♦♣♠
Lavanya watched as Erik carried the luggage and remained quiet and aloof as they got into a very elaborate carriage. He seemed rather gloomy and brooding most of the time, but there were brief glimpses of a sharp wit and caged genius that Lavanya found extremely intriguing.
He suddenly turned to her and spoke, filling the carriage with the timbre of his smooth baritone.
"I have recently moved back to Paris from London. The home I have purchased will be sufficient for your needs, I hope." He dropped his voice and looked away, surveying the passing scenery, "You may move in at once and I will follow after we are wed in a few days."
"So soon?" Lavanya asked, a brisk shiver of panic invading her bones.
Erik released a beleaguered sigh and stared at her through reproachful eyes. Her hopeful tone made his wounded heart sink lower in his chest and the demon of self-doubt careened his confidence.
"Mademoiselle Keshav, it was your brother's request that I either wed you, or take you as my ward…." His tone was measured and rational, and Lavanya sensed she had hurt him in some way, "...it is unfortunate that this was thrust upon you."
Erik paused in mid-thought, having realized that she was not totally willing to go through with the marriage. She had undoubtedly had enough time in Marseille and on the train to conclude that he was not worthy of her and that the prospect of marriage to him was a ghastly one.
He cleared his throat and lifted doleful eyes to the ceiling, avoiding her disturbingly alluring presence. When he drew his gaze back to her, his entire demeanor was as cool and polished as the masked side of his face.
"I already have a ward; Tarrah…and she is probably the closest thing I will ever have to a child of my own…" he felt his heart wretch from the knowledge that he could not possibly ask her to bear his child…she could not even stomach the thought of marrying him. "…however, I know that the idea of marriage to me is distasteful; therefore, if you consent to it, I will become your benefactor..."
Lavanya realized that his opinion of himself was not an attempt to garner sympathy from those around him; he actually despised himself, and her hesitancy had only compounded his belief that he was nothing more than a monster.
"….Sharad has sent a telegraph informing me that he will be staying indefinitely in Morocco…" Erik's lips finally quirked into a half-smile, "…something about a doe-eyed, Egyptian temptress who has captured his heart."
Lavanya had not doubted that he would find a woman to warm his bed as soon as he was no longer under their father's greedy watch.
"I do not mean to sound ungrateful for all that you are doing…I just do not…"
Erik narrowed his guarded eyes; not appreciating her implication and did not allow her to finish her sentence. He spoke with a scathing tone and tragic resignation.
"I assure you, my lady…" he spat, "…your gratitude is both unwarranted and unneeded…"
Bitterness stung each word and Lavanya felt it enter her very soul. She knew she had unintentionally hurt him, but he made it impossible to apologize. She would fight his fierce temper with her own turbulent nature.
"Are you always this rude or is this charming display for my benefit only?"
He narrowed his eyes and looked away. This woman had slapped him and now she mocked him…he could say nothing for fear his rage would get the better of him. He wore a look upon his face that was schooled in indifference, and did not say a word.
"You had so much to say about yourself a few moments ago – no matter how untrue - and now you do not wish to talk? You are a puzzle to me, Mr. Lacroix."
He did not respond, but remained a dark splotch against the light of sun - crouched against the seat and brooding perfectly.
Annette did not know what to make of the situation. She had clamped her mouth shut after Lavanya had opened hers and was amazed at how Erik allowed her to talk to him – not that he didn't deserve it – but women just did not talk to men that way.
Annette had also heard the unwillingness in Lavanya's words – she did not desire marriage – at least not yet; and Erik assumed she would never consent to being married to him of all people. She had watched as his dreams of a baby had been dashed and the new light in his eyes that had begun to glow at the prospect of a baby, vanished.
Erik sulked; he knew she was right, he had been purposefully rude and obnoxious to her, but he did not want to feel anything – and right now – he was failing miserably. It was painfully obvious that she had never seriously considered marriage – at least not to him. To hide the ache in his heart, he lashed out and hid the pain behind a mask of fierce indignation.
Nothing more was said, but Erik seethed inside – pushing away any and all desire he felt toward her; he could not afford the pain and heartache that would accompany the attraction.
Lavanya was trying to hide her guilty eyes; she knew that she had caused him great pain, but she needed him to understand that he had to stop jumping to conclusions about her. She would wed him – that much she would do – and she would do it willingly. However, there would be no intimacy at first…he would have to court her and she him before they shared each other.
On the train that morning, Madam Giry had enlightened her about a few things as they had waited for Erik to emerge from his cabin…
FLASHBACK
"He is very mysterious; I am assuming you have noticed this about him." Annette was nervously chattering at the young woman, not offering her much opportunity to respond and Lavanya listened avidly.
"I do not know very much about his early years – they are a shadow in his eyes, even after all these years.
"He has been away from us for four years, following a personally painful event, and has just recently returned to Paris."
"Where has he been?"
Annette smiled at the young woman.
"He has been in London…working at the opera house there."
"How long have you known him?"
"It has been fourteen years now…and you would be surprised to see how far he has come." Annette remembered, "He has never had any friends – except me, of course – and he has been an outcast for as far back as he can remember because people fear the unknown…the concealed…" Annette's thoughts turned inward as she remembered the night she and Erik had literally stumbled upon each other.
Lavanya reflected on the older woman's words; troubled by the connotation that he was mistreated because of whatever was behind the mask the he wore.
"I take it from your own words that he has little experience with women…"
Annette smiled and lightly scoffed, "I would change that to NO experience with women…" she announced, "…he has never allowed anyone close to him except for once…" the older woman frowned softly, "and that ended badly for him."
Lavanya wanted to ask for further detail, but she knew it would have to be Erik who filled in the blanks.
"Does he have any family?"
Annette closed her eyes and shook her head, "No…but I do not know the details surrounding that, either."
END FLASHBACK
She had not learned everything she wanted to know, but Lavanya had learned a great deal…Erik Lacroix was a fascinating man – brilliant, brooding, bitter, jaded, and arrestingly attractive.
She needed the chance to explain her intentions…she had not met to make him think he was not husband material – he was quite the contrary, actually.
The carriage came to a jostling stop and Erik proceeded out of the carriage. He turned to help them both down and was shocked when Lavanya stumbled and landed against him with force; her breasts pressed against his hard chest and her hands clasped his muscled biceps.
He is very well built – strong, confident arms and large, beautifully formed hands. Lavanya thought. He need never know that I stumbled on purpose… she grinned sheepishly.
Erik quickly placed her on her feet and adjusted his coat; however, there were other parts of him, which needed immediate attention; he swiftly moved away from her and toward the door of their home.
Before he could reach it however, it flew open and an enthusiastic and out of control Tarrah threw herself into his arms and kissed his cheek with ardor.
"I sure missed ye, ye ol' grump." She teasingly stated; emphasizing her Irish brogue.
Erik had no choice but to wrap his arms around her as she dangled from his neck like a rag doll. He marveled in her open affection – and suddenly realized how much he needed her hug.
"Tarrah, you are getting too big for this, you are going to snap my head completely off my shoulders."
She pouted briefly as he set her on her feet and then smiled again when she spied Lavanya. It was obvious that she was curious about the young woman whose arms had been wrapped around her soon-to-be husband and whose lips had touched his cheek.
"I do no' think I could do that, Erik, ye are far too strong."
She winked at him and he rolled his eyes at her before strolling further into the house and putting the luggage down.
"Since he is no' going to introduce me…" Tarrah teased.
"I would if you would let me get a word in…" Erik announced with a frown.
"I am Tarrah Sheldon, his ward." She smiled brightly.
Lavanya could not help the smile that spread across her face. She loves him deeply; probably as an older brother or a very young father figure; he is obviously not aware of her feelings and would not accept them even if he were.
"Hello Tarrah, I am Lavanya Keshav."
"I ha' been looking forward to yer comin' since we go' the letter…" she glanced over at Erik, finding him several feet away and discussing something of the utmost importance with the butler. "…he is a bit frayed at the edges, but well worth the effort."
Tarrah winked at Lavanya and grinned, hoping to put the beautiful woman at ease.
"Are all the women of this country allowed an education, as you have been?"
"It is still not normal practice…Erik teaches me – reading, writing, arithmetic, music, history, art – everything; he insists that I have a well-rounded education."
Lavanya was pleasantly surprised by that answer; he insisted that this young woman get an education and maintain her individuality, rather than become the mindless twit of some overbearing ogre.
"'Knowledge is power…' he says to me, '…and women have it, they just need to assert it.' Those are his words to me every time that I feel like collapsing under the weight of each day…he is my father, my brother, my friend, and my teacher….and whether he believes it or not, I love him."
Lavanya nodded knowingly at the conviction in her voice. She was very protective of Erik – Lavanya could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice.
Erik had finished instructing the new butler on where to have the meager luggage delivered; he walked back toward Lavanya and Tarrah, noting the glint in both their eyes.
Good, maybe they will become friends and I will not have to worry about Mademoiselle Keshav growing restless and bored.
"This is your home, my lady; I hope you find it to your liking as you become acquainted with it. I have hired an entire staff to be at your disposal – I am paying them well to anticipate your every need."
His words came across as business-like and remote, and his manner was not much better. It was evident that her lack of enthusiasm over marriage was wearing on him. Some of the spirit was out of his voice, and he seemed to lack the energy and the desire to feign it.
She realized that the hard, sour front he displayed was a charade – a mask used to cover up the vulnerable man who was in such need of love, but never expected to have it.
So why was he so incredibly defensive and aloof toward her?
She knew she was attractive, it was not a matter of conceit; but the knowledge she had grown up with – thanks to her dear mother and wonderful brother. She knew that Erik found her attractive – she could see the proof in his eyes…when he let his guard down.
"It is already a castle compared to my residence in India." She offered. "Your grounds are quite lovely and this manor is extraordinary."
Erik bowed formally, in thanks to her compliment. He motioned to the broad, marble staircase leading to the floor with her sleeping quarters, washroom, and dressing room.
He led the way up the stairs and Lavanya was fascinated with watching him move; fluid and graceful – like a swan in the water.
"Are you a dancer, my lord?"
The title startled him, and he stopped mid-way up the stairs and turned to look at her. He furrowed his brow, lifted his chin, stared down the exposed side of his strong, straight nose.
"I do hope you have not been led to believe that I am titled, for I am not…" he emphasized – and then realized his tone was abrupt, "…and no, I am not a dancer." he answered in a softer voice. He lifted his lips in a sideways smirk, "…but I am sure that I could dance, should the opportunity ever present itself."
Lavanya pursed her lips and furrowed her brow in confusion. She had to think about what she had said and then smiled in relief.
"Oh, forgive me…" she giggled at her faux pas, "…you are the lord of this manor, are you not…that is why I referred to you in that way."
His features relaxed, but he did not seem any more convinced.
"Actually…" He smirked endearingly, making him suddenly appear several years younger. "…I bought the manor for you." His alert eyes swept over his surroundings and he still had the smirk on his face. "Tarrah and Annette insisted that it was perfect – and I must agree."
He continued to climb the stairs, completely unaware of her stunned features.
"If it is not to your liking, I will expect you to tell me so that you may pick out another one."
She had been a couple of steps behind him when he had last looked back, but suddenly her hand was grasping his and he stopped and spun around quickly – almost colliding with her willowy frame.
"The manor is beautiful and all that goes with it…thank you..." She murmured. "…and I wish to apologize for earlier – it would be better for us to marry quickly – Sharad and you have already arranged this, and I see no reason to delay."
The look in her eyes made Erik glance away in confusion; he was certain he was misreading her. Even though his eyes were seeing her fingers interlocked with his, it was difficult for him to understand her willing touch.
He smiled at her, but Lavanya saw a glimpse of regret cross his features.
"Actually, Sharad did the arranging – I just opened the letter." He tried to look settled and even managed a smile, but the uncertainty still filled his eyes. "I will try to make this as pleasant as possible for you…I give you my word as a gentleman."
She cocked her head at him, remembering the previous day's events. They had made it down the hall and stood beside what was to be her room.
"I have no doubt that you can be a gentleman, my lord…but I get the impression that you much prefer playing the rogue."
His green eyes danced with a hint of mischief, "It is much easier playing the rogue; then I do not disappoint those around me by acting like a rogue." He stated with a devilish brow.
Before she could comment, he pulled his watch from his fob pocket and stared at the face, it was rather late in the afternoon and he had not slept well on the train – cramped as he had been. He was certain that Mademoiselle Keshav was in need of rest as well.
"I am sure you are exhausted; and I find I have no stomach for traveling anymore…" he chuckled quietly and turned to leave, "…we can talk some more later."
She watched as he turned away from her, but she was not ready to part with him…not yet.
"Is there any way I could possibly impose on you to show me the grounds and stables?" Lavanya stated, with a hint of mirth.
He was quite eager to do just that, actually. He did want to introduce her to the property and to D'Ombre…although the stallion was rather head-strong – but Erik was certain the woman was familiar with horses.
"Erik?"
He startled only slightly and lifted his stormy eyes to her inquiring ones.
"I have ordered a bath drawn for you. After you finish, I will take you for a tour…" he suggested, "…do you ride?"
He asked, hoping that she did, but unsure of what to do about it. For now, the only horse he owned was D'Ombre; he had taken the liberty of ordering one for her - but she was not available for delivery.
Lavanya walked toward him causing his eyes to drop to her provocative, swaying hips. He steeled his body and meant her unwavering gaze.
"Not well…but I could ride with you."
Erik pulled his head back and raised his brow in surprise.
"You would have to be rather close to me?" He reminded her. "Are you certain?"
The real question was, was he certain?
She nodded with a scintillating lift at one corner of her mouth.
"I will return all squeaky clean and ready to ride."
Her words held double meaning and Erik's mind immediately went the way of the ribald. He cursed himself and decided he needed a tepid bath to cool his raging hormones - or a warm one to help relieve them.
On this rare occasion, he opted for the latter.
♥♦♣♠
Lavanya shared a satisfied smirk with herself. He was certainly not immune to her; that was quite evident. He possessed a raw power and unbridled manliness that Lavanya had never seen before – he was passionate and powerful, innocent and sensual, broken and beautiful – and he would soon be hers.
Mr. Tibbs carried her luggage into the room, and she stood inside the door of her living quarters; stunned at the heavenly beauty of it. Pure white walls with pale green accents graced the entire place. The bed was extraordinary – plush and large – draped with pale green and white sheets, comforter, bed skirt, pillow shams – everything.
The floors were hard wood with area rugs from India placed in certain areas around the rooms. Pictures adorned the walls, beautiful pictures of mountains and lakes – and many of her homeland.
The initials on the paintings were M.E.L. She turned to Mr. Tibbs and smiled as he started to turn and leave the room.
"Who is the artist, these paintings are spectacular?"
He smiled back, looking very fatherly and rather proud.
"The master did, my lady. He is an accomplished artist – among other things."
Lavanya sighed at his words and smiled again.
"The initials, M.E.L., what do they stand for?"
"Monsieur Erik Lacroix, my lady."
She nodded and dismissed him. She sunk beneath the soapy, fragrant water and smiled in pure pleasure…she could sure get used to this.
TBC