Paladin51

Erik could barely breathe, nor could he decide whether he wanted to sit, stand, or pace. He turned around in a full circle before he located a mirror and glanced over his attire. He picked dog hair from his trousers and straightened his sleeves while impatiently waiting for Sophia to return. All the while he could still feel her warm, satiny lips, her soft body against his.

This is what people lived to experience, the beating of another person's heart so near their own. It was the dizzy feeling of intoxication and the clarity of sobriety. Nothing else could compare to this.

Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he turned and found Fidelio lying on his back with his front paws in the air. He had a glint in his dark brown eyes, as though he silently congratulated his master.

"Citrine has a bone for you," Erik coaxed as he walked to the lamp and turned down the light. He nodded toward the door. "I'm certain of it."

With a sigh, Fidelio stretched and rolled onto his feet. He trotted out of the room, tail still wagging and hindquarters wiggling as he bounded down the stairs. Sophia was just returning, and when she saw Fidelio she made kissing sounds and spoke to him as though he were a baby.

Sophia gazed up at Erik from the middle of the stairs and gave him a closed-lip smile. Swallowing hard, he smiled back, clasped his hands behind his back momentarily, and then offered his assistance. It was too late to appear gentlemanly, he knew, but he hoped to salvage some of his chivalry.

"In the past you haven't done well with trays," she commented as she made her way to the top.

"Pardon me?"

"Do you remember…? Oh, never mind."

Erik studied her a moment. "The tea?" he asked, feeling his face begin to burn. He was glad for the darkness in the hall and the dim lighting in the room.

"I apologize," Sophia said quickly, her voice low. She sighed. "Please, Monsieur, if you feel the need to do so, tell me to keep quiet. My brother says I have no idea when I should be seen and not heard and…and I've done it again, haven't I?"

With the tray left on the service table, he turned and faced her. "Does he treat you well?"

"Philippe? Oh, yes, he treats me very well. I honestly don't know where I would be without him."

Erik motioned for her to sit with him and she did at once, feeling her way across the room.

"Have you brothers or sisters?" Sophia asked as Erik turned the lamp up to help her see around the room. He turned away from her slightly before realizing he was being foolish trying to hide himself.

"None," he answered.

"Not ever?" Sophia asked.

Erik turned to face her and shook his head. He knew what she was asking: Was he the only surviving child? To his father he'd been the end of hopes for future children.

"No half-siblings, full siblings, or step-siblings," he muttered. He pushed her chair in at his desk and couldn't resist the urge to place his hands on her shoulders. She smiled up at him, silently giving her approval.

"I had a younger sister, but I don't remember her. She passed away when she was only a month old. I was not a year old at the time, but Philippe remembers her." Sophia frowned. "Not quite conversation appropriate for supper, is it?"

"You may say whatever you wish," he stated as he took his seat beside her.

Sophia glanced at the desk. "Are you certain you don't want to eat supper in the dining room? Citrine has returned home."

"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked.

Sophia pursed her lips. She stared at their waiting food a moment before she shook her head.

"Did you know that Citrine has twelve brothers and two sisters?" Sophia asked suddenly as she uncovered her plate.

"I did not."

"She tells me she slept in a dresser drawer, but I think she's jesting," Sophia said. "Dresser drawers aren't big enough to sleep in, are they?"

Erik couldn't stop himself from chuckling. "I can honestly say I have never attempted to sleep in a dresser drawer."

"Me neither," she said, giggling at the absurdity of their conversation. Their eyes met and Erik found himself growing comfortable in the silence between bites of food and comments at their makeshift table.

"Do you miss Paris?" Sophia asked.

"No, not really," Erik answered. "I prefer the quiet here."

"Truly?" Sophia asked. She sounded surprised and caught herself too late. Pressing her napkin to her lips, she slumped in her chair. "Forgive me for saying this, Erik, but the first few weeks you were here I thought you would run away to Paris and abandon your home. I honestly thought you were miserable here, though I suppose it is a change from a busy city to the countryside."

Sipping his tea, he nodded to avoid speaking. Her words twisted his insides, as he had considered leaving the Manor. It wasn't that he had desired to return to Paris, he had merely wanted to be away from where Ann Giry had sent him.

"You have always lived in the country," Erik said. His words were meant to be a question, though Sophia nodded and said nothing more on the subject. They ate with their elbows brushing against one another, the constant contact both comforting and distracting.

"Have you always lived in Paris?" Sophia asked after a long period of silence.

Erik shook his head and cut his green beans in half, dipping them into the cream sauce that had topped his roast. "I've traveled most of my life."

"Where?"

"Everywhere," he answered.

Sophia gave him a curious look, and Erik wondered if she would question his scars or his mask, which was still tucked within his dresser drawer. He looked away and snatched up the untouched bottle of Dupree wine.

"I've never been anywhere," Sophia said. She gave a listless sigh. "You will have to tell me about everywhere some day."

Something about their conversation made Erik feel particularly bold. He wasn't sure if it was the lingering feelings from their kiss or the way she sat beside him. It could have been that they had known each other for several months and that, no matter what, she treated him with the same respect. He'd never felt dignified before, but Sophia gave him a sense of pride and belonging.

"What would you like to know?" he asked as he filled their glasses.

Sophia blushed and shrugged. "Oh, I have no idea. I would have to think of something."

"Speechless," Erik mused. He gave her a sidewise glance that made her giggle again. It was the best sound he'd ever heard, and knowing that he had created her mirth made him want to hear her laugh again.

"I bet you never thought you'd see the day when I was speechless," Sophia said dryly.

Erik didn't say anything, which made Sophia gasp.

"You follow my brother's philosophy, I see," Sophia said with mock huffiness. "I am better seen than heard." She smiled, her eyes wandering from his face down to his chest.

Placing his fork on the side of his plate, Erik allowed his hand to fall on the small of her back. "Should I choose between seeing you and hearing you?" he asked, his voice low and deep.

Sophia's eyelashes fluttered, her cheeks turning noticeably puce in the dim light. She tilted her face to the side and studied his eyes before shaking her head. "You needn't choose," she whispered.

Erik had no idea what had happened that she suddenly appeared so glossy-eyed, but he felt her lean into him and pressed firmly against her lower back. Caressing her with soft, sweeping motions, he massaged up to her shoulders until his fingers brushed the nape of her neck.

She sucked in a breath, which startled him at first. He thought he had hurt her until he felt her hand against his leg.

"I—I apologize," she said, moving her hand away. "I'm so…"

He caught her lips to his with fierce passion that surprised her into a moment of stiffness before she melted in his grasp. The muffled sound of her soft moan made him inhale sharply, the feel of her warmth relaxed him, allowing him to savor each moment.

Cradling her face between his hands, he kissed her softly before brushing her cheeks with his thumbs. Her eyes were closed, but she grinned in blissful contentment. She enjoyed his affection, he realized.

"I—I apologize," Sophia murmured.

Erik's brow furrowed. "For what, Sophia?"

"I've…never…kissed anyone," she confessed, glancing away. She fidgeted, distracting herself by shifting in her chair. "I feel as though I should tell you that now…in case…" She shrugged. "My kisses are disappointing."

He stroked a loose strand of her hair, curling it around his finger. His skin pricked with gooseflesh as he prepared to humiliate himself. She was a young woman. She wasn't expected to be experienced—and it was better that she wasn't. But he was a grown man with different expectations. Bowing his head, he sighed and gently held her hands in his.

"I have traveled, but I am not a man of great experience with…more gentle matters," he said under his breath. He winced and immediately regretted his words. There was no need to tell her such things. He did nothing but confirm to himself that he was little more than a fool.

Sophia's grasp tightened. She waited for him to lift his eyes and then she kissed him again.

"My first kiss," she whispered against his lips as he pulled her close. "You are my first kiss."