Paladin 32

"What do you mean he took her?" Philippe asked as he crossed his arms.

"He took her from my home and put her in his carriage."

Philippe glanced from Erik to the clock over the mantle. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. "It's almost eleven o'clock, Monsieur. There must be some mistake. Monsieur Turro would not ask Sophia to such a late supper."

"Then why would he invite her so late?" Erik muttered.

Aggravated, Erik turned on his heel and stormed past Citrine, who was struggling to hold back Fidelio. The dog whined and barked when Erik walked back, attempting to gain his master's attention.

The snow had nearly stopped when he walked outside and the clouds had parted enough to reveal a full moon, but the wind had picked up. Snow was drifting against the buildings and trees, which was making it increasingly difficult to walk across the yard.

In the silver light he saw Gabe leading two black horses from the stable, both saddled and prepared to ride.

"Where is Monsieur Dupree?" Gabe yelled over the wind.

Erik ignored the young man's question and studied the two horses for a moment, deciding almost immediately to take the bigger of the two. Once he had Sophia back he would need a horse with enough strength to carry two riders as he had no intention of leaving Turro's home empty-handed.

"Monsieur?" Gabe questioned again.

"Where does Turro live?" Erik asked, gathering the reigns in his gloved hands. The horse that Gabe controlled began shaking its head back and forth as it protested against the weather.

Gabe glanced down the long drive. "West of here, Monsieur," he said, stroking the smaller horse's muzzle and averting his eyes from Erik. "If you wish I will show you the way."

Erik studied the young groomsman. He was younger than Erik expected, but he was fairly tall and well-built and he could see why Citrine was fond of him. He didn't look much like his father, but their voices were similar; gravely and low. Without seeing either of them they sounded callous, but Gabe at least seemed friendlier. With a sweep of his hand or a pat to the side of the neck he was able to calm the more skittish horse. From the little time he spent in the stables Erik knew some men would have rather whipped a horse rather than attempting to calm the beast.

"How far west?"

Gabe shrugged, running the toe of his shoe back and forth through the snow. "Several miles, I believe. He owns a large stable, Monsieur. You may have heard of Turro Thoroughbreds; they're quite popular, though my father purchased his team elsewhere," he added quickly.

"The property should be discernable by its fields and stables then."

"True, Monsieur." Gabe appeared nervous, shifting his weight as he continued to stroke the horse's face. He had yet to look Erik in the eye, which was just as well. "But I think it would be best if you had Monsieur Dupree accompany you. He knows the way, as do I."

Erik ignored the offer. He didn't want anything to do with Philippe and he didn't want Gabe involved. "Is there a gate? Something unique about the property?"

"An iron gate, Monsieur. With two horses running toward one another and his name on a plaque near the entrance. From the road you can't see the estate; too many trees from what I recall. It's very easy to miss, especially in this weather, and the only indication that you've gone too far would be Dupree Vineyards." He looked up for the first time but wasn't staring at Erik's eyes.

In his fleeting anger, the last thing Erik wanted to consider was Gabe's words, but he saw the horsemaster's son staring at his mask and knew what the young man was thinking. No one would allow him onto Turro's property.

But Erik wasn't exactly planning a civil meeting between gentlemen. He was traveling to Turro's horse farm for Sophia and nothing more. If Monsieur Turro dared to protest he would learn again never to ignite Erik's anger.

"If I may ask, Monsieur, what did Monsieur Dupree say when you told him Sophia was missing?"

"Stay here and take care of Citrine," Erik ordered, wrapping his hand around the pommel.

Before he had mounted the horse, Philippe jogged to them, out of breath, newly dressed in his evening wear. He snatched the reins from Gabe's hands and glared at Erik.

"Monsieur," Gabe greeted him.

"Where is Sophia? With Citrine in the kitchen?" Philippe asked.

Gabe shook his head. "Monsieur Turro—"

Philippe swore under his breath and glanced from Philippe to Erik. "How long ago did he take her?" he asked as he swung into the saddle.

Erik offered no reply. Turning his mount, he heeled his horse and barreled down the drive in search of Sophia and the brazen man who had stolen her from his home.

-o-

Sophia had no recollection of entering Karl Turro's estate. All she remembered was that she had passed from a warm place into a colder one and then into a wide room with a marble floor and a fireplace.

Her mind faded as Karl removed the cloak he had set over her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor. He ran his hands up and down her arms and told her she was shaking and that he would warm her, but his touch had been painful. She wanted him to stop at once and she thought she had asked him again to take her home, but whether she had actually spoken or he chose to ignore her she wasn't certain. His hands squeezed her shoulders and she felt her knees weaken.

His mood had softened after he brought her into his home, but she still felt uneasy in his presence.

"You've no reason to fear me," he said into her ear. "Please, dine with me, Mademoiselle. Relax and enjoy your stay."

There were no servants or family members to greet them and she saw no lamps or candles burning once they started down the hall. Shrouded in darkness, she listened for some indication that they weren't alone, as she felt safer knowing his mother or father were present.

Tall windows to the left revealed an empty garden, and the snow outside made the moonlight brighter. Sophia strained to see in the darkness, cursing her bad eye for betraying her as she looked to find a door or more people somewhere in the house. She had met Monsieur and Madame Turro on several occasions. If she could tell them she was sleepy they would most certainly tell Karl to take her home.

"Your hands," he said as he led her down a long corridor toward the back of the estate, "they're so cold. Have you ever heard the expression 'cold hands, warm heart?' I think it's certainly fitting."

Sophia said nothing. She wondered if anyone knew she was missing. Perhaps Erik had noticed that she wasn't in the parlor, or maybe Philippe looked at the late hour and searched for her. Citrine would have noticed. Citrine seemed to notice everything.

Had Erik gone to the parlor? Was that what she had told him when she left his room? It felt like ages had passed since she had last seen anyone at all.

Sophia felt herself sway slightly, her body pulling away from Karl's hand, which was caressing her arm.

"What are you so afraid of, Sophia? We've known each other for years and I've never put you in danger."

She couldn't speak, couldn't see anything around her. It felt like she was walking into an abyss, a stifling and terrible space without end and without solace.

"You said you would kill me," she murmured at last, finally able to speak.

Karl chuckled to himself and drew her nearer again, holding her securely to his side. "It was merely in jest, Sophia. You mustn't take my words so seriously, my dear."

They came to a stop and Karl took Sophia by the shoulders, his hands gripping her so tightly that she sucked in a breath through her teeth to signal her pain.

"Your brother wants the best for you," Karl said as his hands slowly moved from her shoulders up to her neck. "A good future, a good, solid, financial future for his dear baby sister."

His hands clasped her face, holding her head steady as he examined her closely. Sophia swallowed hard and attempted to hold her breath, as the hall suddenly seemed unbearably warm and confining.

"Did you know your uncles owe me a great deal of money, Sophia?" he asked as he smoothed his thumb over her chin. "Your uncle Claude apparently enjoys watching horses run much more than his wallet can tolerate."

Sophia felt the wall against her back. She released a barely audible whimper of protest before her eyes rolled back and her heart stuttered in fear. He was breathing so hard against her face and his touch was so heavy and insistent that she thought he would bruise her face.

"They are indebted to me, my dear, and as a result your family's vineyards will be mine come spring. You're quite fortunate your brother takes no interest in horses. There's no telling what he may have to relinquish as payment for his debts."

Karl leaned into her, pinning her to the wall with his torso. She turned her face away, but he had such a tight hold on her chin that he forced her to look at him again.

"Your brother needs the vineyards back. It kills him each day he works for that thing while your uncles sit around and watch the crops go to waste. I don't blame him. I don't see how you could work for a man who hides behind a mask, Sophia. "But imagine how wonderful it would be for Philippe if he worked for himself once more. Wouldn't you like that?"

He pushed against her harder, so hard that Sophia could barely breathe.

"You don't want to ruin his chances of running the old vineyard, do you?"

And suddenly both of his hands weren't holding her face any longer. One had snaked around her back and had begun unlacing her dress. The other, however, remained against her chin, and the last thing Sophia saw was Karl's mouth open. Before his lips closed in on hers she let out a scream and tried to turn away.