In the last chapter Sophia and Erik were face to face alone in the parlor. Thanks so much for your feedback!
Paladin24
Sophia froze the moment she felt Erik's breath on her face. The warm rush of air was followed closely by the soft sensation of his lips barely touching hers. She had never experienced anything quite like it, a mixture of utter torture and rushing pleasure.
They both paused, suspended in a moment of uncertainty, neither one certain of what to do next.
Sophia's head swam with a thousand jumbled thoughts, each battling between pulling back and leaning farther forward. With every beat of her heart she could see flashes of him in her mind starting from the day he had appeared, to the time he chopped wood for her, to when he had walked into the parlor just moments before.
Only then did Sophia realize how often she thought of him.
Her hands clenched the piano bench as she too closed her eyes and pressed her lips to his, feeling the warmth of his lips and the cool surface of his mask touch her cheek.
Her belly immediately filled with a million butterflies all swirling and fluttering within her, setting her nerves on fire and her mind into the clouds. She felt claimed, completely possessed by his intimate gesture. At the same time she had never felt more in control.
This was what she had wanted, though she hadn't realized it before. She surrendered to her own needs while conquering something much larger.
Sophia heard Erik exhale sharply as his body tensed and the sheets of music he held fell from his grasp. He shifted slightly and placed his hand on her upper arm, gently holding her in place as he pulled back and opened his eyes.
Sophia sat as still as a statue, feeling her cheeks flush as he searched her face. She desperately wanted him to say something or to smile, but he merely stared at her, his expression unreadable. His fingers gripped her arm briefly before the realization of what had transpired entered his gaze and he released her.
He turned away as he cleared his throat and tugged at his cravat, giving her no indication of whether or not he had intended to kiss her. She waited for him to turn again, her throat so dry she couldn't utter a sound.
"I'm afraid that I've misplaced the composition you selected," Erik said with his head still turned away. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye before he stared at the sheet music scattered along the floor.
He regretted it, Sophia thought as she nodded and frowned. It was all a mistake in his eyes. She was a servant and would never be anything more.
"Another time," she whispered, suddenly mortified about the situation.
Sophia wanted to run from the room but she couldn't move. He paralyzed her again with another glance that threatened her belly with more butterflies. She wondered if he knew how much authority he had in merely his eyes, how captivating he was when his gaze locked with hers.
He made her forget that there was a room and a piano. She could only see him staring back at her, commanding her to look into his eyes and pleading for her to draw her gaze away.
"I'll…I'll find it," he said suddenly.
His words startled Sophia and she sat back, nearly pitching from the bench.
Erik saw her tilt backward, so he grabbed her by both arms to steady her, holding her far too tightly for much too long. Their eyes met again and Sophia saw the same look that had led to their kiss.
"Mademoiselle," he uttered, his thumbs gently caressing her arms.
"I apologize," Sophia whispered as she looked away, her face so flushed that she thought her skin would catch fire. "I'm so…clumsy…sometimes."
"Yes," he breathed, his tone even and serious. "You are quite clumsy."
His words made her laugh unexpectedly, and she covered her mouth with both of her hands and turned away to regain her composure.
His expression immediately changed, his mouth twitching with annoyance. "I beg your pardon?" he said, his voice as hard as his eyes.
Sophia shook her head. "That was quite rude of you to call me clumsy," she chuckled.
"There is no need for you to laugh at such nonsense, especially when I was attempting to agree with you," he said defensively.
Her good senses all but vanished, suddenly everything amused Sophia. "Don't agree with me," she said as she fanned her face with both of her hands before leaning over and gathering the fallen sheet music.
Erik was silent a moment. He took the papers from her hands and stared at them. "What do you want, Mademoiselle?" he asked rather boldly. "Tell me now, this very moment."
Sophia studied him for a moment. She had never known anyone who struggled so greatly inside. She knew by the way the lines were set in his face that he was suddenly very troubled by the possibilities of her reply.
"I don't want anything," she said quietly.
His eyes shot up and he searched her face again. A long moment passed before he harnessed his emotions and forced a curt nod.
"Mademoiselle—"
"What do you want, Monsieur?" she questioned.
Erik rose from the piano bench and tossed the sheet music atop the piano. "Nothing," he replied gruffly.
He started to leave, but Sophia rose with him.
"Neither of us," she said before he reached the door, "is a good liar."
He refused to turn and face her. "Explain yourself."
Sophia stiffened at his demands. She marched toward the door, pulled it open, and whipped around to face him. "No," she said defiantly, and with that she disappeared.
-o-
The woman was mad, Erik thought to himself as he locked the parlor door and considered kicking it. There was no other explanation for how she could transform from a doe-eyed innocent to a giggling child and then to a red-eyed monster storming from the room.
"I shall inform her that her duties here are finished," Erik muttered to himself as he pulled his gloves on and gritted his teeth.
She was an insolent whelp trying his patience—and he had absolutely none to spare her.
With an exasperated sigh he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. She was still there in taste and smell, which only furthered his aggravation. That woman, that brazen, irritating woman was nothing more than a mistake. He regretted the first day he came to this damned Manor. He hated how cramped his room was, how the sunlight tore through the room each morning, and how those flippant girls were always in the kitchen whispering and giggling.
Erik unlocked the parlor door and stormed down the hall. He slammed his bedroom door shut, pulled his cloak from the wardrobe and returned to the lower half of his home. Citrine watched him in wide-eyed silence as he disappeared through the front door.
The wind stung his eyes the moment he exited his home. Erik brought his hand to his face and covered his nose and mouth to keep the harsh wind from hitting his face.
Damning the cold he continued to trudge through the snow, ignoring the wind and sleet pelting him. He needed time alone, and the only place he would find solace was in the barren orchards. There he could walk aimlessly through the snow and kick trees or scream if it suited him, and with the way his anger was boiling he wanted to do something.
"To hell with this place and that girl," he muttered to himself as he heard horses neighing. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a carriage pull into the drive.
It was Turro, he realized. Karl Turro had come to retrieve Sophia for their dinner.
"Best of luck, Monsieur," he growled as he stalked toward the fence surrounding the orchard. The wind caught hold of his hood and ripped it away from his face, furthering his aggravation. He hadn't been outside for more than a few minutes, but his muscles already ached from the chill. Each moment that passed guaranteed him a day spent battling a fever.
He didn't care. Freezing to death seemed like more of a blessing than facing Sophia ever again. He didn't want to see Citrine either, as she had given Sophia that damned dress. Perhaps Karl would compliment her on her garb as he entertained Sophia with nonsense over dinner.
"Enjoy your dinner, your wine, and your pleasant company."
Erik kicked the gate open and stormed into the orchard. He could still hear voices in the distance and his pace slowed. With his hands balled into fists he considered punching the nearest tree, but he couldn't. His rage faded as quickly as it had taken hold of him.
With his hair damp and face stinging from the cold he stopped and released a disheartened sigh.
Erik searched the virgin snow, his eyes fixed on his lone footprints as he heard Karl and Philippe still shouting near his home. They were telling Sophia to make haste.
He didn't bother to raise his eyes at the sound of their voices. He was too preoccupied by the sharp pain he felt in his chest as he stared at his footsteps marring the perfect dusting of snow.
The world felt colder than it ever had before, the single set of footprints serving as an exclamation point to his solitude.
No one would walk beside him for as long as he lived. This evening was proof of that, though Erik couldn't help but think that he needed no further indication of his misery. His first false hope had been Christine, and now Sophia had become his second and last mistake.
In shame he slunk through the woods, still tasting Sophia, still remembering how soft her lips had felt against his. He wanted to hold her again the way he had in the parlor, to feel how his hands fit perfectly along her upper arms, to run his fingers along her back.
No, he told himself, he didn't need even that much. He would be content sitting beside her. How little he needed, how much he was denied.
Everything about her had seemed perfect. Why then, had he insisted on pushing her away?
"I'm a coward," he muttered as he rounded a tree. "A miserable, lonely, loathsome coward."
He stepped on something soft and lost his footing. Falling to his hands and knees, Erik swore under his breath at his foolishness. He grumbled to himself and glanced over his shoulder to see what had caused him to trip. Already his scraped hands and bruised shins were beginning to throb and he cursed himself.
There in the darkness something small and dark lay beneath the tree. Squinting, Erik reached out and touched the object.
It was soft and still warm, which startled him. He swallowed and leaned forward, holding his breath as he realized what he was staring at.
A body.