Paladin
Karl Turro returned.
His harsh voice, his rough hands—all of him returned. His eyes locked on Sophia as he pulled her toward him.
"Let me go," she panicked, thrashing back and forth until Karl finally released her.
She ran the moment he released her, looking back only once to see if he was following her.
"I'm coming for you," he sneered as he watched her run away.
Sophia shot up in bed, holding back a scream of terror. Her eyes darted around her bedroom, searching the shadows for Karl Turro. She exhaled hard and realized how much she was trembling the moment she pulled the blankets around her and held them tight.
She knew she wouldn't fall asleep again for several hours, if she fell asleep at all. Even if Karl were a hundred miles away he would always be inside her mind, always watching her, threatening her.
"It's not fair," she whispered, feeling tears roll down her cheeks.
He had stolen her sense of security. He took away something that would never be replaced—something she was certain Philippe had not considered. He cared for her virtues and her well-being, but Sophia knew her brother was more relieved that he found her still clothed.
Sophia turned up her bedside lamp, hearing the light hiss as she rose from bed to search for a book. Reading would give her a headache, but she needed to keep her mind occupied. The last thing she wanted to do was think about Karl Turro.
She opened her bedroom door and listened for several seconds until she heard Philippe snoring. With him fast asleep, she wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and snuck down the hall.
Philippe had always enjoyed reading much more than Sophia, so the majority of books belonged to him. Naval books were a favorite of his, as well as architecture, and Sophia couldn't imagine two more boring subjects.
She perused his collection until she found Great Expectations, dog-eared and hiding beneath magazines. Hugo and Twain slid off the shelf, which she nimbly caught before they fell to the ground. After unsuccessfully attempting to shelve the extra books, she sighed and scurried back to her bedroom with her newfound treasures.
She sat on her bed Indian style and began thumbing through the pages, skipping to her favorite parts. When she absently glanced up at her window she saw Erik's bedroom light on and furrowed her brow.
Why was he still awake? It was nearly two in the morning, a time when everyone should have been sound asleep.
Leaving her book, Sophia walked to her bedroom window and watched his silhouette. She pressed her hand to the glass and squinted, attempting to see what he was doing.
She couldn't tell what direction he was looking, but she felt a sense of comfort in knowing that he was awake at the same time she was, especially after the manner in which she had awakened. It was as though he was keeping guard over his land, wary of Karl Turro returning.
"We should both be asleep," she whispered.
Sophia worried about him. Not even a full day had passed since he had been terribly stricken with fever. He needed his rest, as he was still recovering.
Crossing her arms, she thought about the previous night. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, so many things she wanted to say to him. She wondered about the woman whose name he had spoken, about the marks on his back and his face. None of her questions were answered thanks to Philippe's presence during her lesson.
"Oh, Philippe," she sighed.
She knew her brother was right. There were only two choices, and neither seemed acceptable to her. She didn't want to leave the Manorand she knew it would be difficult,if not impossible,to find employment elsewhere. The changes to her vision had been slow, but she would have to memorize an entirely different layout if she were employed elsewhere.
With her index finger she traced a heart on the glass and thought about the composition Erik had played for her. She sighed to herself, and when she looked out to see if Erik was still standing in his window, she knew he was watching her.
Her hand fell away from the glass and she shifted her weight, seeing his head turn slightly. She swore he nodded to acknowledge her but she couldn't be certain.
Abandoning her books, she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and left her room.
-o-
Erik couldn't sleep.
He was exhausted, but he couldn't close his eyes or slow his heart rate. Each time he looked at his bed and the dog sleeping in the middle he felt no desire to lie down. He'd never felt so restless in all of his life, though he knew exactly why he couldn't find peace.
He couldn't stop thinking of Sophia. He still felt her soft, smooth skin against his fingertips, smelled the honeysuckle scent of her hair. As much as he tried, he couldn't pinpoint what it was about her that made his stomach tighten. She was pretty, but not an extraordinary beauty. She was more gregarious than shy and not easily swayed. She was a change from anyone he had ever known.
With the house quiet and his staff retired for the night, Erik considered taking a walk. It was cold, but the snow had stopped falling. Perhaps the crisp air would bring him clarity—or at least tire him enough that he could finally sleep.
Erik went to the window and stared outside for a moment, considering whether or not he wanted to wear his mask. The sensitive spot below his right eye seemed more tender than normal, and the pain he once welcomed was becoming unbearable. He swore softly and gingerly touched his cheek, drawing his hand back immediately. His fingertips were red. The sore was still bleeding.
Again he thought of Sophia and her words. She was correct. His skin needed to breathe and he needed a chance to heal.
He was tired of the pain, of the reminders he forced upon himself. Paris was behind him. Christine was gone. It was time to abandon the past and search for his future.
His eyes flickered to the darkness outside his window. He blinked twice when he looked to Sophia's bedroom window, certain that his mind deceived him. He nodded and saw the shadow move.
"You should be sleeping," he murmured, seeing her step away.
He turned away from the window and grabbed his cape. Before he left his room he doubled back for his mask.
With a sigh of frustration, he donned the first article of clothing he had ever known and went on his way, Fidelio at his heels.
-o-
Sophia nearly fell as she struggled into a skirt and blouse she had hung up to dry by the hearth.
This was utterly ridiculous, she told herself, but nothing would keep her in her inside. Tying her hair back, she grabbed her cloak from the hook near the door and quietly walked outside.
She heard the front door of Erik's home open and close and she paused, recognizing him by his long legs and broad shoulders—and the skinny dog bounding around him on three legs, its tail wagging in delight of being outside in the snow.
"Why are you awake?" he asked as he approached.
"I woke and couldn't fall asleep again," she answered. "And you?"
He sighed and nodded.
"Are you going for a walk?" Sophia asked as she made a rut in the snow with her shoe.
Erik looked around the yard and nodded at last. "Not far," he answered, glancing at Sophia again. "You should not be away from home. Your brother will wake and worry."
Sophia ignored his comment and knelt, offering Fidelio her hand, which he washed for her before he flopped on his haunches and rested his injured paw.
"He seems to be feeling better, wouldn't you say?" she asked as she scratched the dog's head. "Or are you too stubborn to stay by the fire? Afraid your master will go off and have an adventure without you, eh Fidelio?"
Fidelio rolled onto his back, insisting that if she wanted to pet him she may as well scratch his belly and chest.
"What happened to his bandage?"
"He won't wear it," Erik murmured.
"Oh, I see," Sophia said, talking to Fidelio as if he were a baby. "You brave, brave boy."
She chuckled and looked up, finding Erik standing over them. There was a crooked dark line from his jaw down to his neck which drew her attention.
"What is that?" she asked.
His brow furrowed before he turned away and adjusted his mask.
Sophia rose to her feet. "You have something right here," she said, demonstrating on herself.
Erik withdrew his handkerchief and wiped his jaw and neck, and when he pulled the cloth away Sophia saw that it smeared.
"Are you…are you bleeding?"
He didn't answer immediately, which alarmed Sophia. She stepped closer and grabbed hold of his wrist so that she could see his handkerchief.
"It's the spot near your eye, isn't it?" she asked.
Erik didn't reply. He turned away from Sophia and lifted the mask, patting his face with the cloth while she nervously looked on.
"Yes," he said quietly.
Sophia sighed. "You shouldn't keep it covered," she reminded him. She paused and saw him lift his head, turning slightly so that he could see her from the corner of his eye. "It makes no difference to me."
His arms dropped to his sides and he turned to face her. "Are you certain?" he asked.
Sophia bristled at his tone of voice. When he fully faced her, she felt herself inhale sharply—and her reaction had nothing to do with his scars.
He was challenging her. She could see the belligerence in his eyes as he stood, his jaw tight and head cocked to the side. He wanted her to react, to prove her wrong.
She'd seen him upset before, but his eyes looked different to her. Beyond his anger and far beyond his desire to disprove her was his need to trust her.
Sophia thought about the scars between his shoulder blades, the evidence of suffering she couldn't possibly begin to understand.
"Sophia," he said under his breath, his eyes struggling to remain hard and callous.
"I'm positive, Erik," she said, boldly stepping forward and taking the handkerchief from his grasp. "Bend down. You've missed a little."
He pulled away slightly when she wiped his cheek and Sophia heard him breathing harder. She was breathing harder as well since they were standing so close to one another.
"There," she said breathlessly, feeling him leaning in closer. He smelled faintly of ink and cedar and his own masculine scent.
"Sophia," he whispered. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand and tilted his face toward hers. When he stood so close that Sophia felt his electricity connecting with hers, he hesitated.
Her lips parted and she nodded slowly, understanding what he wanted but feared to say. She needed him to realize that their feelings were mutual, that her opinion didn't change when the mask was removed.
Erik's eyes lowered when Sophia pressed the palm of her hand to his chest. She'd never felt anyone's heart beat so fast before in her life, but she smiled and stepped closer. She couldn't allow him to stop, not now.
Releasing all thought, Sophia placed her hands on his shoulders, closed her eyes and said two barely audible words.
"Kiss me."