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We have a long way to go yet, so buckle up and hold on!
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 23
As he readied for his bath, Erik went back over the conversation they had just shared. Could he do it? Could he marry this woman knowing that she was simply doing her brother's bidding?
She had said she would marry him, but she was given little choice in the matter. For him, however, this had been an opportunity to have an heir of his own – until he saw her. No…she would never consort with one such as he and he could never ask it of her.
Of course, this knowledge only made the deep attraction he felt toward her that much more difficult to face. How would he handle being near her each day and knowing she could not be his in every sense of the word?
He would have the solace of his room and his music – as he always did. He had taken care of such needs in the past and he would continue to do so.
Although he had seldom indulged in such an act, desperate times called for desperate measures. He ran the bath and the eased into the water; his thoughts centered on the aching need that pounded through him.
His head hung back, resting on the edge of the tub as the steam from the water floated around him. He slipped into a dream-like state and felt his body react to her image as it played with with his senses.
In a matter of hours, she had reduced him to this…a pitiful, desperate monster reduced to satisfying the uncontrollable flow of desire that was making its way down his body and pooling in his groin.
He pushed himself beneath the water and held steady – hoping by some miracle he would suffocate; but he knew that was not the answer. He flung himself through the surface of the water and threw his head back; water flew from everywhere – from the rims of the tub and from the tips of his dark hair.
He grabbed the cake of soap and began scrubbing – hoping to remove all the remnants of his daydreams and nocturnal stirrings.
They had been so vivid that he could feel her hands upon him – he could smell the exotic Indian oils in which she bathed her tawny skin – he could hear the soft quiver of her voice begging him for release.
He ran the soap up his chest, over his hardened male nipple, and hissed at the erotic bolt of energy that shot straight to his rigid arousal. His eyes floated shut and he gave the same treatment to the other tight nub.
The natural course of his hand circled his erection, lathing the soap over its soft skin and downward over the large, tight sacks that swelled with his need. His hips swelled with the pressure of his own hand and he moaned as pleasure waves tingled over him.
He surged into his hand as he forgot the soap and firmly gripped his aching, throbbing staff. His movements were slow and controlled at first, building the ravenous yearning that he was powerless to ignore.
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and used his free hand to massage the swollen peaks of his nipples; touching himself in ways that he was certain no woman had ever wanted to touch him. He hated that he had to resort to such means – but he could bear it no longer.
His pace became frenzied as he felt his orgasm approaching – he had only engaged in this illicit act on a few other occasions – when he felt the untamed need overwhelm him; but it had not been often.
However, this time was different. Erik sensed the urgency in his body's demands – the stronger, more forceful compulsion of each pounding of his heart.
Even while his seed shot from his body and his own moans filled the room, Erik knew that this woman had stolen something from him already…his sanity, his good sense, his common decency…he just prayed it was not his heart.
♥♦♣♠
She slipped quickly down the stairs and was surprised to see that Erik was waiting for her in the parlor. He had bathed also and looked sinfully desirable and debonair in a black pair of riding pants; a long, puffy-sleeved, white shirt – which she noticed was unbuttoned quite far – much to her delight; and long riding boots.
He was certainly easy on the eyes; his body was well formed and very masculine, and he looked even more devilishly handsome with his damp, mane of waves that framed his face. The white half-mask was perfectly in place and he looked like the mischievous dark lover from one of the forbidden novels in which she had indulged.
Some of the tension seemed to be out of him; and he even smiled as she entered the room. He stood up and faced her, inclining his head in a greeting. He appeared taller than she had thought he was as he towered over her five-foot-seven frame.
"I am certain that D'Ombre is eager to meet you – as he has only had my dreary company for the past several years."
Lavanya smiled and followed as he led the way. He encouraged her to walk beside him toward the stables; but he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Lavanya was determined to set things straight with him as soon as they sat down to talk.
As early afternoon approached, the day seemed to be turning quite lovely. What had started out as a rather drab morning had now turned bright with a slight breeze blowing the tips of the trees.
The stables were not far from the manor, and Lavanya enjoyed the easy walk down the trail. The stables looked newly painted and very well kept.
"I know I have already said it, but I want to reiterate how beautiful the grounds are, my lord…the manor is quite lovely."
He briefly lifted his eyes to hers and then looked down at the ground as his long strides carried him toward the stables.
"Please, call me Erik…." He corrected, "…and, thank you…I hope you will be happy here."
They entered the stables and D'Ombre whinnied as he saw his master approach. The black stallion pranced eagerly on the ground, anticipating a jaunt around the countryside.
"Hello, my boy, it has been a while…have you missed me as I have missed you?"
Lavanya watched Erik's easy show of emotions with the horse. He seemed more at ease around the handsome stallion than with anyone else. He crooned at the horse and patted his strong neck.
"This is Lavanya…"
Erik looked over at her and smiled broadly. Lavanya thought how much younger he seemed when he was preoccupied; he was not trying to hide himself in these surroundings – he was completely at home. His smile was breathtaking and she immediately found herself wanting to see it again.
"…now, do not get spoiled with this beautiful woman upon your back…I have already purchased a spry, young filly for her and she will arrive in a couple of days."
D'Ombre pulled his regal head up and Lavanya could have sworn the stallion grinned at his master.
Erik wagged a chiding finger at his long-time friend. "I did not purchase her for your enjoyment, old boy…" D'Ombre snorted at that comment, and Erik continued, "…besides, you would have to catch her first, and you are getting too old for such exertion."
Lavanya giggled at the antics Erik was sharing with his stallion. She marveled at the majestic beauty of the animal and his interaction with Erik. The two seemed as one – both of them proud, regal, and unyielding – but dependent on each other for companionship and acceptance.
"He is truly a magnificent animal, Erik – the two of you are fit for each other." Lavanya praised, "Thank you for purchasing one for me…but it was not necessary."
His name on her lips stirred him in ways he had hoped to avoid; he did not take his gaze from D'Ombre's warm, understanding eyes; but continued to brush the bristled hair and prepare the horse for riding.
"It is important that you have the freedom to roam as you desire, see the countryside and city, and make friends." Erik insisted. "You cannot do those things if you cannot get around."
She was ecstatic with the prospect of riding on her own; it was not a common practice in India – at least not in polite society.
Erik finished brushing the coat and traipsed over to the soft riding blanket that was drooped over the stall, brought it over to D'Ombre, and draped it over his back.
"I apologize for not purchasing a horse for you before now…to be perfectly honest; the thought never crossed my mind until yesterday."
"It is quite alright."
If Lavanya were to be completely honest, she would openly admit that the prospect of riding atop that beautiful steed with Erik behind her was a most enticing incentive for not having a horse of her own.
Erik gave her a reproachful glance, walked over to a sturdy bench, and extended his hand to her.
"Come, stand upon this bench and I will come beside you on his back."
She did as he asked and watched in fascination as Erik leapt onto the horses back. He wrapped his long, leanly muscled legs around the beast and sat straight and proud atop his equestrian friend.
He gently steered D'Ombre with his legs and eased up beside her. Erik extended his hand and she took it; the feel of his long fingers wrapping around her hand was inviting and intimate. He pulled her petite frame over the horses back and sat staunchly upright as she wiggled deeper into the cradle of his powerful thighs; sending Erik's blood racing to a part of his body that was barely concealed by the dangerously snug cut of his trousers.
He knew he was overreacting and mentally calmed his racing heart and pounding blood…it simply would not do for her to know of his attraction to her.
"Hold on to his mane if you feel insecure – he will not let you fall..."
She turned to look into his beryl eyes, mesmerized by their beauty. He was the smoldering libertine one minute – with his voice like molten velvet and a mouth perfectly fashioned for kissing and other even more illicit pleasures; and the next minute he was an austere, guileless boy-man with the most innocent eyes she had ever seen; a paradox on many levels.
"…trust me." He whispered.
She swallowed the rapid beat of her heart and smiled.
As they moved out of the stable in a slow walk and increased to a soft canter by the edge of the meadow, Lavanya had already locked onto Erik's thighs with her hands; unaware that her firm grip on his body was driving him to the edge of sanity.
By the time the ride was over, Erik had already envisioned her writhing body against his driving hips in almost every position he could imagine. Her body had molded against his with such exquisite perfection and he had actually wrapped an arm around her waist at one point – preventing a nasty tumble.
If one were to ask Erik what they had talked about, or how the weather was, he would most likely stumble over his answer with great difficulty. He had spent the entire hour dealing with his body's betraying desires and forcing his mind away from her cocoa-colored, lavender scented hair and the soft touch of her smile on his eyes.
The entire ordeal had been a test of Erik's resolve and he had passed – barely. The annoying strain of his erection against his pants had been most difficult to deal with throughout the entire ride, and even harder to disguise; especially when she insisted on pressing against him firmly.
"Thank you, Erik…I really enjoyed the ride and the scenery."
He reached up to help her down and she gracefully slid into his extended hands; they firmly gripped her waist, securing her safe return to the ground. She was amazed at how gentle and tender his touch could be.
"You are most welcome…." Erik stated, putting D'Ombre in his stall. "…now, I do believe we are to have tea in the great room."
He offered his arm and she took it. They walked slowly back to the manor, enjoying the fresh smell of the afternoon and the chance to escape the rigors of life.
She followed him into the great room, and noticed that Tarrah was nowhere to be found and the servants remained hidden; other than the housemaid who carried in the crescents, jelly, and tea. She scurried off as soon as her task was complete – leaving them alone, but with the door open.
He sat down in a large, cushioned chair and crossed his long, lean legs. Lavanya continued to admire the way he looked and the relaxed grace with which he carried himself.
He degraded himself constantly – with just about every word that left his mouth – and yet, he dressed elegantly, seemed to be meticulous about his appearance, and moved with an arrogant buoyancy that few men possessed.
Erik felt her eyes boring into him – making the tension in his body as tight as the bows on his violin. He could not proceed with this farce of a marriage without being completely honest with her.
"I am going to be frank with you, Mademoiselle Keshav; this mask conceals a deformity I have had since birth…a gift, I was told, from my father." He sank down into the brocaded sofa, reflecting back on the violent images that always accompanied thoughts of his father - a man he barely remembered, but whose shadowed, surly image remained etched on his brain.
The bitter pain in his voice was palpable and Lavanya felt her heart constrict. What had his father done to cause such an injury?
He swiftly removed the mask, but kept his left profile facing her; he was not quite ready to deal with the horror that would surely follow once she saw him.
"I warn you, I am quite hideous and few have been able to look past my ugliness and see a man and not a monster…I pray that once you have seen the horror that is my face, you will still assent to being my wife."
His eyes were turned so that his perfect side was all she saw, "Your brother was the first, and most likely, the only true friend I have ever had. I will not betray the trust he has put in me. Should you turn from me, I will still offer you my protection as your benefactor…even if it means my life."
He slowly turned toward her, allowing her a full view of his entire face. He was feeling physically ill, but knew this was the only way to move forward. His hands were visibly trembling as he swept pieces of his wavy, black hair from his eyes.
Lavanya did not gasp or balk in any way. She ran her eyes over each rippled line of flesh that rested upon his right cheek, temple, and forehead. The scars resembled melted skin, but Lavanya knew there had been no fire.
His nose was only slightly affected, as was his forehead; the major damage seemed to be located over the cheek and temple area. The flesh was thick and folded upon itself; completely obliterating his defined and sculpted cheekbone – which, she assumed, would have been as flawless and perfect as his other one.
His brilliant, azure eyes remained untouched, but he kept them downcast as she continued her perusal of his features; her silence was almost more than he could tolerate.
The scars were not a pretty sight, that much had already been made quite clear to him…but when one stood back and saw the whole man; the man that was burdened with the task of carrying those scars through life - the rest of him was the picture of perfection…it was quite easy to see a man of deep sorrow but great potential.
He felt the need to break the silence, hoping to take her mind off the sight in front of her; however, before Erik could form his thoughts, she spoke.
"How did this happen?"
He lifted his eyes, hoping beyond all hope that there was no pity in hers; he could not stand for people to think of him in that way; and it would be less tolerable coming from her.
His soulful, dark eyes searched her features for mockery and guile, but there was none; there was no pity, just a curious concern that he found strangely disconcerting and frighteningly appealing.
"I only know what I was told by my mother and what was beaten into me by my father...and that was a very long time ago...I have never told another living soul."
She understood, but hoped he would someday feel comfortable enough around her to entrust her with it.
"Is it painful?"
He did not know why she appeared to care; he supposed it was just human nature to ask.
"No, not physically, unless the mask chafes my skin; which has happened in the past…" he rubbed the sensitive skin; unmindful of his actions, "…I do not wear it as often as I used to."
Her anger flared, and she suddenly despised the world of which she was a part. Erik was a victim of its cruelty and barbarism – just as she was a victim of the chains that cultures and customs demand.
When she spoke, her words came out with a bitter undertone that sounded much like an accusation to Erik, and she did not mean for it to sound like that.
"Do you hide behind the mask because of fear, or shame?"
Her soft words stung, and he had no idea why. How dare she question his motives…she had no idea what he had been through in his life that led to this moment – this decision.
"Why...would it make a difference in how you look at me?"
She noted the sudden harshness in his tone and the fire that had leapt into his eyes. He sat morbidly still in the chair, barely blinking or breathing; his normally full, kissable lips had narrowed to half their size as he pressed them together tightly, avoiding a comment.
He was more alive with tension and passion when he was angry, than when he was trying to hide his gregarious nature. He possessed a natural intelligence that could not be hidden; not from her or the rest of the world.
"Do not be so defensive all the time; I was not meaning to insult you. We are to be married and I think that I am entitled…"
She did not get to finish her sentence, before Erik interrupted.
"What do you want out of his marriage, Lavanya?"
By this time, he had pulled himself violently out of his chair and was meticulously wearing a hole in the carpet with his pacing.
"I ask because I cannot fathom a woman of your considerable intelligence and independence wanting to be married in the first place, and especially not to some social introvert and monstrous outcast such as myself."
Lavanya stood up and watched him pace for a few more moments before chuckling aloud.
"I am not going to talk to you when you are acting like this. When you accept the fact that I am unaffected by the scars you have shown me; and that I am not scared of you – at all, and I am willing to discuss our marriage and all that goes with it like two grown adults - then I will sit down beside you, and we will talk about our future together."
Had she just laughed at him? Erik was certain that she had. He watched her exit the room, swaying her hips as though born to do so. She was soft and feminine with curves that flirted with him from beneath her Indian attire – attire that was not acceptable in the posh, French society – but attire that Erik found immensely appealing.
What an enticing and infuriating woman she was. She played with his senses and riled his masculine nerves; making him wonder if she realized he was eager to bed her; but his sense of honor, self-doubt and hatred, and the promise he made to protect her, kept him from acting on it.
He would not hurt her, in any way; even if it met enduring the humiliation of never knowing the love of a woman.
The movements of her body and the way she held herself had Erik's senses frazzled. He had to ask her, and soon, just what kind of dancing she did; but a very, stubborn part of him already knew…and his blood was racing.
Before she disappeared through the door, she turned back to Erik with a sheepish grin on her face.
"I have a few terms of my own…terms upon which I must insist."
He inclined his head, curious about her challenging words. Her bright eyes shone with the light of stubborn determination.
"By all means, enlighten me."
His voice dripped with mocking sarcasm and Lavanya smiled wickedly at him.
"No, I will not divulge my demands until after we are wed."
She slowly turned, flipped her long, luxurious hair over her shoulder, and left him standing there – wondering when and how he had lost control of the situation.
TBC