9/10/05 announcement: September 13 starts my vacation time. I will try to update this story on Monday. I will be gone for about 17 days this month BUT will update at least once next week while on vacation.

Thanks for following the story. I apologize for the delay. I never abandon stories! I will return to Paladin regularly once I am home again.

Paladin15

Erik was livid by the time he entered the parlor and set the wood by the fireplace. He tossed two logs in and watched while the dead hearth turned into popping, orange embers. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he stood and stared at the fire, feeling his hands ache from grasping the ax.

He should have allowed her to fall in the snow. She was not his concern.

But instead he had caught her. He could not comprehend what had prompted him to reach out, grab her by the arms, and pull her into his grasp.

Erik closed his eyes and sighed. My God, he had not wanted to release her. Her hair smelled like apples. In the middle of winter she smelled like apples, of all things. She felt so soft against him, soft and helpless. And she had leaned her head against his chest as if she was not afraid.

But that was impossible, a fact he discovered to be true the moment she asked him to release her.

His intention was to send her back into the house and disappear into the night. He hadn't expected her to say that she could not return indoors. Though considering everything he knew of her, he should have known she would prove to be difficult.

It was in her nature, he discovered, to drive him absolutely mad.

No, he told himself, she was so daft she didn't realize what she did. All she knew was that she was cold.

Her innocence infuriated him. She didn't know who he was or what he had done. She thought he was kindand that,above all else, angered him. And he had no idea why that made his nostrils flare and his heart race, why the sight of her made his insides churn.

"Because I'm a damned fool," he said under his breath as he rubbed his knuckles over his lips. "Because one mistake was apparently not enough. I must do it again. And then what?"

His intention was to destroy his anger by chopping wood. Each strike was meant to quell the fire pulsing through his blood, but in the end he was left exhausted and still angry.

Sophia was still there staring at him in a way no one had ever done before. He wanted to ask her what she was looking at but he couldn't form the words in his mouth. When he turned away his only thought was that she had told Citrine that he was kind.

Each time he split another log those words had echoed in his mind. He wasn't kind. He was cruel. Thoughtless. Callous. Heartless. A monster inside and out. What did she see when she looked at him?

"She's going blind," he muttered cynically to himself.

Erik instantly regretted his cruel thought. He closed his eyes to the fire and exhaled, uncertain of why he cared. This damned girl!

"Monsieur?"

Erik gritted his teeth. There she was yet again at the door. Did she not exhaust herself?

"Yes?" he said without bothering to turn.

"I have your clothes," Sophia said. She paused and Erik opened his eyes, eyebrow rising at the absurdity of her comment. He had nearly forgotten his cloak and vest. "Citrine made hot drinking chocolate. It's very sweet," Sophia continued as she pushed the door open a little wider. "Would you like some? I brought a cup."

"Leave it here."

"Do you like chocolate, Monsieur?"

Erik hesitated. Her questions unnerved him, as no one had ever before asked anything of him. He considered not answering her but knew she wouldn't leave otherwise.

"I've never tasted chocolate," he said gruffly.

He heard her gasp as though he had revealed something horrific. Erik fought the urge to turn and face her.

"Never?" she whispered.

"No, never," he answered, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, you should try some. Citrine makes very good drinking chocolate, especially if you enjoy sweets. Do you enjoy sweets?"

He wanted to ask her what it mattered. It was no concern of hers whether he liked sweets or not. She had no right to question him. But he couldn't growl at her because his mind was being pulled in two directions, and one side was winning the battle.

Erik turned slowly and found that Sophia had inched closer, her hands cupped around a demitasse cup. His mouth started to water merely from the sight of steam rising from the cup and the smell of chocolate in the air.

He took it from her hand without a word and brought it close to his lips, inhaling the scent.

"I added cinnamon," Sophia offered. "Do you like cinnamon?"

Erik grunted and turned away, taking a small sip.

He had never tasted anything like it before. The texture surprised him, as it was thick, and the taste was so rich that it was like drinking honey.

Erik tipped the cup back and started to gulp down the rest of it but Sophia yelled, which startled him so greatly that he nearly dropped the cup.

"You'll burn yourself," she said.

Erik nodded, feeling foolish. He took another small sip and kept his back to her.

"Do you like it?" Sophia asked. "I wasn't sure if you liked cinnamon but Citrine insisted that everyone loves cinnamon and, well…I apologize."

He glanced at her briefly before turning his attention back to the drinking chocolate.

"My mother once said," Sophia blurted out but stopped herself. He heard her take a breath. When she spoke again it was in a whisper. "I cannot help myself. I apologize. If you need anything more—"

"It's very sweet," Erik answered as he turned to face her.

What in the hell am I doing? He asked himself. His heart stopped as she glanced up and met his eye.

"Yes, it is," she said, her voice still low.

"Is there more?" Erik asked.

Sophia giggled. "A whole pot. But here, you've a spot on your chin," she said as she came forward and wrapped the corner of her apron around her finger.

Erik realized what she was doing and stepped back, running the back of his hand over his chin. He wasn't sure if he should be more insulted or mortified by her actions, though he knew for certain that he couldn't look her in the eye.

She was tangled in his thoughts. Everything he felt was inappropriate and needed to be pushed aside. He couldn't have feelings for her. He couldn't feel anything for this girl.

Or anyone.

Christine had shown him the impossibilities of love. He had to remember the bitter lesson she had taught him. It should have been a warning to avoid further pursuits.

"Will you take dinner in your room tonight, Monsieur?"

Erik hesitated again. When it suited his mood he could contain his anger. He knew from years of experience that he could smooth his erratic emotions with a simple coat of numbness. He had grown accustomed to the cold that built a wall around his insides, and eventually he no longer acknowledged his loneliness. Solitude was all he knew, and from his childhood he understood the safety of darkness.

He merely needed to nod and he could return to the safety of his bedchamber, turn the lamps down, and write his music. He could return to the life that had kept him sated for so many years.

"Citrine and I are eating in the dining room," Sophia continued.

Erik glanced at her and saw her cheeks redden. She was speaking out of turn again.

"I just thought perhaps you would care to join us…because Gabe and Monsieur Monteclaire and my brother…" Her voice trailed off as she met his eye again. "I just thought."

A tap at the door drew their eyes toward Citrine, whom Erik had never seen before. He stared at the red-haired young woman for a moment before he turned away. As if he were suffocating.

"Good evening, Monsieur," she said in an Irish accent stronger than he remembered.

"Mademoiselle," he said without looking at her.

"Dinner is served," Citrine said.