Paladin31

Erik was livid by the time he reached the small home Philippe and Sophia shared. He saw a lamp burning through the opaque curtains and wasted no time knocking. He had no desire to be polite. He wanted answers concerning Sophia's disappearance and he suspected Philippe knew where Karl Turro had taken her.

"Philippe!" Erik bellowed.

He counted to three before he kicked the front door twice, hearing it splinter upon the second blow.

"What in the hell?" Philippe yelled as Erik stepped through the broken door.

Philippe, dressed for bed, ran toward the front door, ignoring the seething figure who had intruded upon his home.

"Where did he take her?" Erik demanded.

Philippe looked past Erik at the snow drifting through the now useless door. "Coldest damned day of the year and you break my door. You break my door! Have you no respect for anyone?"

"I don't care about your door! Where did he take her?"

Philippe glared at him briefly before he bent and felt along the doorframe while he attempted to fit the door back into place. "Who? What in the hell are you talking about?"

Erik grabbed Philippe by the shirt collar and brought him to his feet. He saw a glint of fear show through Philippe's hatred before he shoved him into the wall. "Where did he take Sophia?" he asked through his teeth.

Philippe wrapped his hands around Erik's neck and forced him back, matching Erik's brute strength. They stared at one another, both of them standing rigid, ready to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Nothing would please Erik more than being given the opportunity to release his anger upon Sophia's brother. They had encountered each other enough to mutually understand that they were not friends.

"Sophia was supposed to retire for the night, Monsieur, but if I recall correctly the last I saw of her she was returning to the Manor to see you," he said snidely.

Erik began to reach for Philippe's neck, but Philippe swatted his hands away and pushed off the wall, storming across the foyer. "Keep your damned hands off me," Philippe said, glancing around the room. "You employ me and Sophia, you don't own us, you idiot."

Taking a step back, Erik ignored Philippe's words, thinking he would be useless if he was dead. "Where is he taking her?"

"Who?"

Anger snapped Erik forward, his hand raised in a threatening fist. "You known damned well who I'm talking about. Where is Turro?"

Philippe exhaled hard, voicing his aggravation with a grunt. "Monsieur Turro returned home hours ago. I have no idea what the hell you're talking about, but if you ever attempt to hit me again I will have your head on a platter."

The door creaked open and both men turned to see Fidelio limping in, followed closely by Citrine, who was tying a rope into a knot.

"Pardon me, gentleman," Citrine said as she looped the rope around the dog's neck. "Dublin is very determined to follow you, Monsieur Belmont. I apologize."

Philippe kept his eyes purposely trained on Citrine as he said, "Please tell Sophia to return home at once. She doesn't earn enough in a week to spend her nights in that house."

"Monsieur Dupree," Citrine gasped. "Sophia isn't—"

Erik heard Citrine's shriek as he lunged forward and threw Philippe to the floor. The impact knocked the air from Philippe's lungs, and as he choked for air Erik grabbed him by the throat and held him down.

"She's gone. Now tell me where Karl Turro took her or I will snap your worthless neck."

-o-

The coach turned into the long, tree-lined drive just as Karl sat forward and ran his hand along Sophia's leg. He felt her recoil at his touch and smiled to himself. She was always so shy and reserved when they were alone, but he knew she was a brazen girl, one who spoke with a tongue more suitable for a man.

She was feral, Philippe had said, and somewhat spoiled by their father when he was still alive. Allowed to act like one of the boys, she had obtained quite the mouth.

Karl would reverse that once he had her in his home. In the end, Philippe would thank him for culling an uncontrollable young woman. Sophia had to learn her place.

"It saddens me that you wanted to spend the night alone rather than as my guest for dinner," Karl commented.

He could see his reflection in the glass. His hair, which was normally slicked back, had become mussed when he carried Sophia from the Manor. Leaning forward, he ran his palm over his hair and straightened it.

"I would like to go home," Sophia said meekly.

"Look out the window, my dear," Karl said, ignoring her plea. "The fields are empty, but I know your imagination runs rampant. Close your eyes and picture all the pretty horses grazing in the pastures. Can you see it, my love?"

Sophia stared out the window, her lips trembling and eyes wide and glassy. Such a naïve girl, he thought, so trusting of others. She was like a foal wandering with the rest of the horses, unaware that there was danger in the world until it was too late.

"We had six mares foal this spring. They're so spirited when they're young, Sophia, so carefree as they romp. Watching them reminds me of you," he continued.

She was watching him from the corner of her eye, he knew, but he wasn't certain how much she could see. Philippe swore that his sister's vision would not worsen, though when asked he could never explain his reasoning. As much as Philippe wanted Karl to believe otherwise, Sophia would not make a good wife. She was a cripple, an invalid who couldn't care for her children if they were married.

Karl looked at her and saw nothing but a play thing, a little wild filly who had denied him on far too many occasions.

"Next year I will break them," Karl said. "Do you know what that means, Sophia?" He waited a moment for her to answer before he squeezed her knee.

"It—it means you'll make them suitable for riding or leading a carriage – slaves to your whims."

He smiled grimly as he studied her. Karl knew she wasn't really watching the scenery. She was merely staring to ignore his presence, though she would not be able to ignore him for much longer.

"They are spirited, Sophia, wild and wily in the pastures now, but when the time comes I will take them by the bridle and whip if necessary and tame them. I will break them myself because they are mine for the time being. I will train them before they are bought by new masters."

He saw her shiver at his words and his smile widened. She gripped the seat cushion and swallowed hard, her eyes fluttering.

"Roasted lamb," Karl said in his deep, baritone voice. "With green beans, roasted potatoes, bread, and the finest Dupree wine. Chocolate mousse for dessert and an evening by the fire. How does that sound?"

"I'm very tired," Sophia said weakly. She kept her gaze fixed on the blur of trees and darkness. "Please take me home, Monsieur. I want to go to sleep."

"With that thing?" Karl spit. "That masked beast?"

Sophia pressed her cheek to the window and gripped her skirts, ignoring his words.

"What do you know of him, Sophia? Can he please a woman?"

Her eyes slowly closed, her body rocking back and forth in time with the carriage.

"He has a half a face, Mademoiselle. May I ask what else the man is missing? Answer me, you insolent little brat, for I know you've spent many hours alone in his company. In his bedchamber."

"I don't," Sophia whispered.

Karl grabbed her by the wrist and wrenched her forward. "Men know, Sophia. They know when a woman's virtues have been compromised."

To his surprise, she pulled free and buried her face in her hands. "I want to go home," she whimpered.

Karl sat back and watched her until the carriage rolled to a stop. He could taste the fight in her, the willingness she possessed to stay wild.

She would be his conquest, the first mare waiting to be tamed.