A big thank you to all of you reading the story the second time around! Your comments are very much appreciated. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading it over, especially since it now sounds nothing like the first story, and that is a good thing!

On a side note…if you go to my website (Gabrina) dot com you will find a link to my café press store. A few of my readers made some cool items for you to look at. If you choose to buy anything—and it's all story related to either Paladin or "Heart" and "Ghost" Erik the proceeds will be donated to the ASPCA.

Thanks for reading!

Paladin12

The longer Erik remained in his room the more restless he became. He paced back and forth past the window, watching the red sun descend into a pink horizon. Once the sky turned indigo and the darkness was dusted with stars, he donned his gloves, fastened his cloak, and tossed the hood over his head. With one swift glance in the mirror, he disappeared quietly down the stairs.

From the hall he could hear Citrine yelling at Gabe to stay outside. Erik held his breath a moment and waited to hear who else was in the kitchen with her, but Gabe seemed to have done as he was told. Once he was certain she was alone he passed the doorway and made his way toward the front of the Manor where he traveled unnoticed into the cold quiet of the winter night.

The sharp sensation of chilled air entering his lungs was welcomed, and as Erik rounded the corner of the building he was tempted to close his eyes and stand for a while, listening to the trees creak and an owl in the distance hoot as it hunted mice.

It had been weeks since he had ventured into the night. Though Erik was accustomed to the streets of Paris, it lightened his mood to stand in the country where his only company was trees.

His pace quickened as he followed the stone-lined path toward a distant dark thatch of trees. He thought about Madame Giry's note and agreed at last. He needed to explore the grounds. He needed to escape the constant torrent of thoughts that had been building within his mind since the morning.

Before Erik knew it he had walked up the hillside where he was met with a short fence. He walked along the fence beneath the moonlight until he found the opened gateway. For a moment he hesitated and glanced back at the sprawling estate at his back. He imagined a painter would have been content sitting on the hillside and gazing down at the snow-covered grounds. The Manor puffed clouds of gray smoke into the night, the scent of wood smoke carrying on the breeze.

Something about the stillness paralyzed him. He stood for a long time, his arms wrapped across his chest, his breath visible in the air. Once he was certain he was alone he removed the mask and leaned against the fence.

As peaceful as it was, Erik had never felt more isolated, more completely separated from the rest of humanity. Beneath the opera house he had been confined, but now he stood in the vastness of it all.

And there was no one.

He forced himself to sit a while longer with the intention of entering the orchard. His mind was still wrapped around Sophia. The night would not have felt so cold with her beside him.

Erik shook his head in disgust. He told himself repeatedly that he couldn't entertain these thoughts, but still she was on his mind, her voice in his head, her smile a vision that intrigued him.

"Any compassion she feels for you was created in sympathy for a damned recluse. She feels sorry for you, nothing more. Pity. It's nothing more than pity," he said aloud, hoping the words would finally convince him.

Bit by bit he pushed away the threatening numbness and climbed to his feet, feeling the cold enter his cloak for the first time.

Erik made no attempt to wrap the cloak around his body. He strode along, his eyes straight ahead, tearing in the cold air.

When he crested the next hill and found another fence he stopped, chest heaving, nostrils flaring. Sweat dampened his brow as he surveyed the land ahead. A shiver passed through him, which signaled that it was time to return to the Manor.

Voices ahead changed his mind, and with his mask returned to his face Erik lingered in the shadows and waited for whoever had ventured into the orchard to pass.

"We should return," a woman said. The voice made Erik's hands clench into fists.

"It's a nice night," a man replied.

Erik pushed his back against the tree he hid behind, his eyes wide in the dark, straining to see her face. He silently berated himself for wanting to see Sophia. All day she had infiltrated his thoughts. This solitary walk was meant to remove her from his mind.

"Yes, but Philippe will worry—"

"He knows you're safe with me, Sophia."

"Karl, I would prefer returning home. My duties start quite early in the morning, the new master—"

"The one with the mask? Is it true what Philippe said, that he's never seen without it?"

Sophia didn't answer.

Erik titled his head back and closed his eyes, reminded all too well of the night he saw Christine with the Vicomte on the rooftop.

"What do you suppose is wrong with him?"

"There is nothing wrong with him," Sophia snapped. "He's reserved."

Karl snorted in return.

Surprised by her comment, Erik peered around the corner. She had defended him. Why had she bothered to defend him?

"Reserved? Your brother tells me he's never left his room. He takes dinner alone in his room, he released the majority of the servants—and what's this I hear about him teaching you the piano?"

"May we return? I'm cold," Sophia replied, ignoring Karl's question.

A long silence followed and Erik peered into the night, searching for the couple in the darkness. He held his breath and waited until he heard a twig snap and found two dark forms side by side.

Once he realized their backs were to him he stepped out from behind the tree and watched them disappear down the hillside. Just before he lost sight of them, Erik saw Karl place his arm around Sophia.

Erik bowed his head and waited for them to gain distance ahead of him. His heart had started to pound, and a familiar aching stretched within his chest.

Erik was forced to leave the orchard as the wind picked up and hissed through the barren trees. Snow began to fall again, which caused him to quicken his pace and return home. His stomach growled, as he had left before supper, and with the servant's homes dark he expected he had missed his chance of eating a warm meal for the night.

To his surprise, there was dinner on the dining room table when he walked into the Manor, his nose running and body shaking from the cold. He dusted snow off his shoulders before he passed through the threshold and entered the darkened dining room.

For a moment he stood and stared at the single candle, unsure of whether or not the food was intended for him. Deciding it was his home and he would be damned if it was waiting for someone else, he pulled out the chair and snatched his fork and knife from the table.

A bottle of wine set to the side caught his eye and he held it toward the light to examine the label.

Dupree Vineyards was printed on the front.

"Dupree," he whispered.

"My family owned the vineyards down the road," Sophia said.

Her voice startled him and he dropped the bottle on the table. It didn't crack, but the bottle rolled away. Sophia caught it on the other side before it toppled to the floor.

"You do not seem to have much luck with glass, Monsieur," she said softly as she set the bottle upright and stepped back from the table. "And this, I dare say, is one of the finest wines you will ever enjoy. My father bottled it himself."

Erik ignored her comment. "Your duties are done for the day, Mademoiselle," he said under his breath as he trained his gaze on his plate.

"Citrine left dinner for you. I heated it again once I noticed you were not in your room," Sophia replied, choosing to ignore him.

"Do you need something?" Erik snapped.

Sophia shook her head. "Do you need anything?"

"No," he answered quietly, his patience waning.

Their conversation ended and Erik ate in silence, watching Sophia from the corner of his eye. Her presence became unnerving, and after he finished his glass of wine and felt warmth return to his body, he looked in her direction and gruffly asked her what she was doing.

"Waiting to take your dish and glass," she answered innocently enough.

"Then take it," he said as he pushed his chair back from the table.

"You are finished?"

Erik didn't answer. His stomach still growled but he refused to eat with her standing over him. He couldn't be near her a moment longer. She was creating the most intolerable writhing sensation in his gut, something unlike anything he had ever felt before.

"How is your hand?" Sophia asked.

Erik stared at her in the darkness and wondered if she could see him in the night. He studied her face, the slight smile on her lips as she looked at him.

"It's fine," he answered. She waited and he sighed, unaccustomed to pleasantries. "Thank you."

The smile widened into a grin, which made Erik increasingly uncomfortable. "Good," she said as she took his plate. "Perhaps tomorrow I may resume my lessons?"

Erik stared at the doorframe. He couldn't think of an excuse to deny her, so he nodded curtly. "If you do not have an engagement, Mademoiselle."

She shifted uncomfortably but didn't address his harsh tone of voice. "Good night, Monsieur."

"Good night," he said quietly as he walked into the hallway. His fingers grazed the wall and he took a deep breath. "Mademoiselle."