Paladin 48

Erik woke at his desk with a start, his arms flailing and his hands immediately drawn to his uncovered face. A horse whinnied in the distance and drew his attention, its hooves trampling the frozen earth.

For several wild heartbeats he sat very still, unsure of whom or what he expected. His palms were sweaty, his hands trembling as his dreams faded.

With a soft curse, he eased back in his chair and harnessed his ragged breaths, the lulling tick of the clock on the mantel reassuring him that he was in his own home.

The thought of owning a home—a real home above the ground—still hadn't fully sunk in, but he discovered he was slowly growing accustomed to his surroundings. He simply needed to adjust. Months had passed since his arrival at the Manor and he still hadn't fully explored the grounds.

For Erik, sunlight in the morning still came as a surprise, as did fresh air. Those were both amenities people took for granted; small, insignificant joys that Erik now cherished.

The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was thinking that he would feel summer sunlight on his hands. He hadn't felt midday sun on his skin since he was a child. The thought left him contented after the hours he spent tormenting himself over Sophia. He didn't want her to leave, but he saw no other choice. He wondered if she would still be in his life when there was sunlight to share.

Erik stood up and sighed, thinking that he should retire for the night. He scratched his shoulder and froze in place as the pads of his fingers grazed over an old scar.

The reason for his sudden waking rushed back into his memory and caused him to shudder. He didn't want to think about the origins, but he couldn't move his hand away from his shoulder.

He thought of Sophia and the night he had taken to a fever and wondered if she had seen his old injuries. In shame he lowered his head and swallowed hard. She had seen them, he knew. Just as she had viewed his unmasked face, she had seen the savage scars along his upper back.

Though it was late, he went to his window and saw that Sophia's home was dark and there was no sign of her standing at her window. He watched the stillness of the night until Fidelio licked his hand and startled him. With a joyless smile he scratched Fidelio's head and turned to the door. It was almost one in the morning and he was exhausted, but he knew the dog would be whining all night if he didn't have a moment to himself in the yard.

"Come on then," Erik sighed.

-o-

Philippe left his horse at the end of the long drive and traipsed through the trampled snow. His eyes were fixed on the weather-beaten sign, his insides filled with disappointment. He shivered in the cold, crisp night, but he was determined to speak with his uncles.

The vineyards meant nothing to them. They were Duprees, but Philippe had learned from an early age that his uncles were worthless, lazy men who depended on their brother for financial stability. It wasn't until his father had become ill that Philippe understood how much of the profits went directly into his uncles' pockets. At first he was shocked, but his mood swiftly changed to anger.

Philippe seethed as he thought of them congratulating one another over their newly inherited property. Uncle Bernard and Uncle Claude thought they could sit back and allow the vineyard to care for itself.

"Fools," Philippe spat as he stalked up the drive.

It angered him much more that Karl Turro would own their land, thanks to his uncles' debts. And now there was no possibility of the Duprees managing the winery.

Swallowing his pride, Philippe knocked on the door. He held his breath and waited until Uncle Bernard opened the door.

"I want the vineyard," Philippe said before his uncle could speak. "And I don't care what I have to do to obtain it."

-o-

Fidelio bayed, his triumphant sound of being released from the house, followed by Erik grumbling for him to quiet down. Sophia heard the noise outside and placed her book on the parlor's side table and rose to her feet.

"Don't go outside," Citrine murmured in her sleep. "I'd prefer Philippe didn't slaughter me when he returns home."

"I won't," Sophia replied. She covered Citrine with another blanket and left her in her chair.

Padding down the hall, Sophia pressed her hands to the cool glass of her bedroom window and gazed outside, watching as Erik stood in the yard, his cloak bundled around him. He kicked at the hardened snow as he waited and turned his back to the wind.

Tail wagging, Fidelio dragged a stick as long as his body to his master and presented it with enthusiasm. He hopped around, still careful of his injured paw, and barked at Erik.

Sophia smiled to herself as she watched the two. Erik clearly found Fidelio's intentions to be utterly ridiculous, and as he crouched down and attempted to take the stick, Fidelio jumped forward and snatched it back, his rear in the air and tail furiously whipping back and forth.

Though it was too dark to tell for sure, Sophia swore she saw Erik smile at the dog's antics as he broke the stick in half and threw it across the yard. Delighted, Fidelio tore across the yard and began shaking the stick in his mouth as he ran around the open space.

Sophia tapped on the window and immediately garnered Erik's attention. He raised his hand to his face briefly but dropped both arms to his sides before he walked toward her window.

Flipping the latch, Sophia opened the window. "You must never sleep," she said.

Erik nodded. "And you as well." He paused. "Philippe is gone?"

She smiled and folded her arms on the sill. "He said he won't be long."

"Where has he gone?"

Sophia exhaled. "He wouldn't tell me."

Erik nodded in silence as he continued to kick the snow and shuffle about.

"I thought you might take a walk tonight."

Erik turned and watched Fidelio investigate the smoke shed, the stick abandoned in the snow in favor of sniffing for rabbits. "He needed to be out." He shrugged and glanced at her before he turned away. "He has more energy than I do."

Sophia nodded and pursed her lips. She'd been waiting for him to walk outside since Philippe left, but she didn't want to seem obvious.

"Would you like company?" That wasn't obvious, she berated herself.

He turned to face her quickly, his eyes wide. "I'll be returning inside once he's finished. It's far too cold and windy for a walk or…well…to meet outside."

Sophia gave a closed-lip smile as Erik wandered closer to the window.

"Did Fidelio wake you?"

"No," he answered. Sophia fidgeted with her sleeves, hoping he would say something more. "I woke myself…I mean to say, I woke at my desk."

"Philippe used to do that when he was balancing ledgers for the vineyard. He was very worried about the finances and production."

"Then perhaps in the spring I will have him oversee the orchards."

Sophia nodded readily. "He would like that, truly he would. He's not comfortable with…well…I'm not sure, really," she stumbled. Philippe would roast her if he discovered she was talking about him.

"With working for me," Erik said.

"Not you in particular. It could be anyone and he would…Oh, forget I said anything of him. It's just that…he wants what he once had."

Erik nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. "I will ask him tomorrow if he would manage the orchards. I have no experience with ledgers and the like."

"Have you always been a composer?" Sophia asked.

Erik bundled himself tighter. His cheeks were red from the cold, his eyes glassy from the wind. "I've been many things," he answered.

Sophia noted his arrogant tone and found her interest piqued. He'd been so shy around her that it was a welcomed change to see him display restored confidence. By size alone he was imposing, but when she looked at him, Sophia also saw his insecurities. Somehow, she had to ignore his fear and dote on his strength.

"You will have to tell me about it one evening," she said.

They gazed at one another for a moment before Erik glanced away. "I should take Fidelio inside," he said.

"Good night," she smiled.

Erik stepped close enough to grasp her hand. His icy touch made her jump in surprise and he apologized immediately as he pulled away from her. His arrogance was gone and once again he stood before her, a man replaced by a shadow.

im"Cold hands," she said, extending her hand to ho. "Warm heart."

His lips straightened briefly before he gave a weak smile. Their fingers touched and he squeezed her hand before at last bringing it to his lips. "Good night."