Paladin 40
Citrine followed in Sophia's frozen footprints all the way to the back door. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Gabe still standing beneath a tree decorated with icicles. He waved, one hand jammed in his pocket as he shifted his weight.
"I'll see you for lunch," he called.
"Your father will be furious," Citrine yelled back.
"To see you, Mademoiselle, it's worth it."
Rene Monteclaire shouted to Gabe from the open barn doors. With a nervous smile Gabe turn and bounded away, blowing Citrine a kiss before he disappeared.
"Foolish man," she said under her breath, shaking her head as she walked into the kitchen.
The kitchen was freezing, so Citrine kept her cloak on and forced the blazes back to life in both the kitchen and the parlor.
"Sophia? Did you start early?" Citrine called, attempting to keep her voice quiet as she walked down the hall.
Fidelio whined at her from the top of the stairs, his tail wagging and injured paw held above the ground.
"Oh, you!" Citrine grumbled. "You've gone and removed the wrapping, you terrible thing. Come down here at once!"
Fidelio lowered his head and took a step back in protest.
Citrine gripped the railing. "Now you listen here, you mangy bag of bones, I said come down this instance."
With a low growl Fidelio playfully wagged his tail and bounded into Erik's bedroom, nudging the door with his head.
Gritting her teeth, Citrine walked halfway up the stairs and whistled for Fidelio, but just as she expected he ignored her in favor of staying with Monsieur Belmont.
"Oh, no you don't," Citrine said as she stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen. She found a beef bone and marched up the stairs. "You will not spite me, Fidelio. I'm the one that fed you and I have every intention of making sure you're healed proper, you little bug—"
Her words were cut off the moment she reached the top of the stairs and peered into Monsieur Belmont's open door. She blinked twice, thinking that surely she was mistaken in what she saw.
Citrine swallowed hard as she tiptoed closer and saw Sophia asleep with her head resting against Monsieur Belmont's arm.
The two of them were lying lengthwise across the bed with Monsieur Belmont's long legs hanging over the end. Sophia, who was partially on her side, was beneath the blanket, but Citrine could still see her dress at her ankles.
Monsieur Belmont, however, was a different story. His arms and chest were bare, and Citrine blushed at the sight of her employer lying in bed with one of his servants. Still, she noticed that his right hand covered his face as he slept and his left hand held Sophia's hand.
Fidelio placed his uninjured paw on the bed and nudged Monsieur Belmont's elbow with his wet nose. With a grunt the master of the house inched closer to Sophia and told Fidelio to go downstairs.
Citrine made the sign of the cross and quietly made her way down the stairs.
"I won't say a word, but lord help you both if Philippe finds out," Citrine muttered as she took a pan from the cupboard and banged it against the stove, hoping to wake Sophia before she was discovered.
-o-
Erik inhaled deeply to the racket coming from the kitchen, his arm shifting beneath Sophia's head. He wanted to pull the blanket up closer to his chin, but he was
She watched as he licked his lips and groaned, murmuring something to himself. Another loud bang in the kitchen made them both jump.
"Citrine is here," Sophia said quietly.
Erik's eyes popped open and he glanced around, finding Sophia beside him. He blinked twice, slowly registering what had happened as he kept his hand pressed to his face.
"How do you feel?" he asked at last, slowly lowering his right hand. He smiled just enough for her to notice, his tired eyes showing a glint of his mirth.
"You shouldn't have allowed me to fall asleep, Monsieur," she said as she sat up, taking the blanket with her.
"You were exhausted," he replied.
Erik reached for his shirt, shivering in the cold now that his blanket was gone.
"Yes, Monsieur, but what if someone saw? It's improper."
"Nothing happened."
"Yes, Monsieur, but you know as well as I do that it is still wrong."
He exhaled, swiping the half-full glass from the bedside table and drinking deeply.
"We did nothing wrong," he said under his breath. He wiped his lips and set the glass back on the table with a heavy thud.
"Two unmarried adults sharing the same bed, Monsieur—"
"Stop."
Sophia swallowed hard. She didn't want to argue with him, as she was still quite exhausted and entirely beside herself for waking up next to Erik.
"I don't understand, Monsieur—"
"The formality," he said with his back to her. "Why must you use such formality when you address me?"
Sophia felt her cheeks burn. "Respect…because you're still my employer."
Erik glanced at her before he bowed his head. She watched him as he ran his hands through his light brown hair and sighed.
"You think this is a tryst?"
"I don't know what to think," Sophia answered. "I know what you said, but one never knows Mons—Erik."
"I do care for you," he said, his voice rising. "And if I didn't care for you at all I would have waited until you fell asleep and did what I desired. Don't you understand that?"
Sophia nodded, shriveling away from Erik. Though not a violent man, her father possessed a thunderous voice, and the one thing that always sent her running was his growl.
"Do you understand?" Erik pressed.
"Please don't yell at me."
He lowered his eyes and frowned.
"I'm not," he said softly, closing his eyes. He took a deep breath and pressed his fingertips together, exhaling slowly.
Sophia's face still hurt, her eyes feeling strained each time she blinked. She knew Erik was correct and that they hadn't done anything wrong. Karl Turro was the one who had done something terribly wrong, something shameful and barbaric.
Something she never wanted to experience again. Sophia knew she would recall this night long after the bruises faded and the abrasions healed. She would recall this with horror for the remainder of her life.
"Then how do I prove it to you?" Erik asked, turning his head so that he stared her in the eye. "How can I prove to you that I care for you?"
His face remained uncovered, the sadness in his expression almost overwhelming. Sophia saw in his eyes the will to do whatever she asked of him. He was genuine, she knew. He did care for her—just as he had said—but she feared that he was too much a man, and after Karl Turro's actions she feared what could happen if she wasn't careful.
"Patience," Sophia said at last. "Give me your patience."
He continued to stare at her, searching her eyes for further answers. Exhaling, he rose to his feet and turned away. Fidelio stayed at his side, guarding his master with unmatched loyalty.
"I have never been one for patience," Erik muttered. "I am short-tempered, expectant and pig-headed. For as long as I can remember I have always been this way. Impatient…terribly, terribly unwilling to wait or compromise…"
His words made Sophia's cheeks burn. If he wished to refuse her then she would have nothing to do with him. Once she left his room she would go to Philippe and ask him if they could find employment elsewhere, as she would rather live on the street and beg for food than tolerate cruelty.
Slowly, she backed away from the bed, her green eyes lowered. Before she took more than two steps Erik turned and looked at her again. His visage had changed, his eyes looking lighter in color. His lips no longer held a thin, tight line. They appeared fuller, the dimple on the left side of his cheek more prominent.
"I will find the patience," he said softly. "For you, Sophia, I will find the patience. That is how much I care for you."