An announcement: A Heart that Waits is now available in paperback and hardback! Go to lulu dot com, or go to my webpage and click on Phan Support for more details. If you go straight to lulu, search either the title of the book or by me, Gabrina, and check it out. The cover is awesome! A portion of royalties goes to animal rescue. What could be better than getting a book and helping homeless pets? It could get better! I'm also giving away 3 more posters (my NDBRs got first dibs) of the cover. If you order a book and email me at gabrina at gmail dot com you could get a free poster (the book cover, designed by Jennifer Byrd, layout by Michael Fabian).
On with the story!
Paladin66
Citrine wrestled with the smokehouse door until she heard a low moan emerge from inside.Turro was alive. Fidelio growled once the door opened, his prey visible only for a moment. As Fidelio bared his teeth, Citrine knew the dog wanted to draw blood. She had half the mind to allow Fidelio his bloody desire.
"The maid?" Karl questioned.
"Sophia's friend," Citrine replied. There was a skinning knife mere inches from his outstretched fingers and by the marks on his wrists it appeared he had desperately attempted to reach the blade and free himself.
With a kick, she closed the door and heard Karl Turro's rancor, his voice so low and strained that it was more of a curse than a plea.
"All of you will pay for this!" he choked. "For keeping me in here, for threatening my life."
"No one here cares about your life," Citrine replied.
"You ugly thing," Karl hissed. "You stupid, ugly bitch."
Citrine stood very still with her back to the smokehouse and fought to hold her tongue. He shouldn't have survived the night. The pampered bastard should have frozen to death without his expensive goose down pillows and warm, soft blankets.
But he was still alive. God knows he didn't deserve it.
He continued to call her names, some she had been called before by a man of similar social status as Karl Turro. Her cheeks grew heated as she thought of that man, that coward who had invited her into his study for a mere chat. A girl of thirteen, too young to think better of it, she was easily lured into the abandoned room at the end of the hall. There he had covered her mouth and uncovered her flesh. She winced at the thought of it, at what she feared Sophia had experienced.
Citrine struggled with her desire to wrench the door open and kick Karl Turro between the legs. She fought against crying, against allowing this man to affect her. It had taken years to feel completely normal again. Even now she wondered if she had only fooled herself into believing that how she acted and felt were the typical emotions of a woman her age. Her biggest fear was that others would know what she had gone through, would see in her eyes that her innocence was gone.
"You should count each second that passes, each breath that you take," Citrine suggested before she grabbed Fidelio by the scruff and gave him a tug. "You're drawing closer and closer to your last."
By the time Sophia woke, Erik had lost feeling in his right arm. She hadn't been asleep long, but her awkward position coupled with the way he was sitting on the floor was enough to create tingles in his fingertips each time he attempted to shift her weight.
"What happened?" Sophia asked as she gingerly rubbed her eyes.
"You fell asleep. Only for a moment," Erik replied as he flexed his hand.
The sound of his voice startled her and she turned. By the startled look in her eyes Erik saw that she expected someone else.
"Where is Philippe?"
"My home," Erik answered. He reached for his mask, pins and needles stabbing his fingertips. "Citrine and Gabe went to wake him again."
In silence they scooted away from each other and Erik climbed to his feet. He reached out to help Sophia stand, but she had turned away and rose on her own accord.
"Shall I walk you to your room?" Erik questioned.
Glancing over her shoulder, Sophia nodded. "Thank you." She paused, bracing herself on the chair as she turned to face him. "Has something happened to your hand?"
Erik shook his head.
"Are you certain?"
"I'm fine. Honestly. It was from sitting on the floor."
Erik followed Sophia into her room and stopped once he reached the threshold, uncertain of whether or not his presence was intrusive.
"Would you like me to wait with you until Citrine returns?"
Sophia nodded, looking away as she crawled into bed and covered herself with her blanket. "Your breakfast will be late today," she said under her breath. She sat up rigid, suddenly panicked by her duties being neglected. "It's usually started by now and I doubt Citrine has made coffee or tea. And your sheets will not be changed today. I usually change the sheets today."
"A petty inconvenience," Erik replied. He was about to ask if she needed anything else when the front door opened and Citrine announced that she had returned.
"Is Philippe with her?" Sophia questioned.
Erik turned his attention from Citrine to Sophia and shook his head. "Perhaps this afternoon," he stated as Citrine hung up her cloak and walked toward Sophia's room. Fidelio ran past her and nudged his way into Sophia's room where he loyally stood at her bedside.
"Thank you for staying with her, Monsieur," Citrine said. "I believe you have lost your dog once more."
Erik nodded, sensing Citrine was about to ask him to leave. She had no right to tell him to leave, as this was his property, but one look at Sophia told him that she was exhausted.
"I will play for you tonight," he said to Sophia, offering a single nod before he turned to leave.
"Thank you," Sophia replied before looking away.
The bedroom door closed and Erik heard Citrine call his name. Turning, he found her standing in the hall.
"It is a shame that lately robbers have plagued the countryside," Citrine said as she walked toward him.
Erik's eyes narrowed. "Robbers?"
"Oh, yes, they have been not only stealing from people, but murdering them as well. It would be a shame if a wealthy horse breeder were found robbed on the side of the road, don't you think?" she questioned. "Roughed up a bit, his horse missing, left for dead in the snow."
Erik made no reply. He saw the glint of sadness in Citrine's eyes colored with the hatred she felt for Turro. Her words were not vindictive, her thoughts more necessary than calculated.
With a nod it was mutually agreed that Turro was too much a threat to be allowed freedom, understood that his demise needed careful consideration. His staff would look for him soon, if they hadn't already begun their search.
"Where are these thieves usually found?" Erik questioned.
"Down the road about a mile or two there are thorn bushes growing where the trees are thickest. There are deer trails there from what I've heard with tracks from hunters and thieves alike. Monsieur Dupree once told me that he's seen trappers cut through the orchards."
Erik's jaw tightened and he nodded. It was a trap that had nearly claimed Fidelio's paw. Though he hadn't spent much time there, Erik was aware of what Citrine was describing.
"It would be impossible to tell where the assailants fled, especially since the ground is thawing and the tracks are one on top of the other."
"They dare strike during the day?"
Citrine shrugged. "Some men are more brazen than others. And some aristocrats much too foolish to bother watching for danger, such as our beloved Monsieur Dupree."
"Perhaps they were together," Erik said, his gaze darting around the room, his mind wrapped around a feasible explanation for Turro's demise.
"Perhaps they were both perusing old record books, as everyone knows that they were to be business partners. It's a shame Monsieur Turro was attacked first, don't you think? And so far away from where anyone would have been able to assist them."
"Indeed," Erik muttered.
Covering her mouth, Citrine yawned. "I will have your breakfast soon. You will need sustenance after riding across the property to find Monsieur Dupree."
Erik paused. "Sophia? She was with them, then?"
Pursing her lips, Citrine gave a tentative nod. "She will not take visitors for quite some time, Monsieur."
Erik gave a curt nod.
"Monsieur, if he were a man worth saving he may have been found in time," Citrine said quickly. She wrung her hands, her face becoming taut. "Such as Monsieur Dupree, who would do anything for his sister."
"Care for Sophia," Erik said over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and lumbered out.
Erik didn't bother to glance at the smokehouse as he walked into his own home, up the stairs, and into the room at the end of the hall where Philippe was arguing with Gabe. It still surprised Erik that, even with a concussion, Monsieur Dupree was a surly as ever. The man either had too much pride or not enough sense.
"If you and that damned Citrine think for a moment that I will be tied to a bed," Philippe barked.
"How far is the overseer's house by horseback?" Erik questioned, garnering Philippe's attention. Gabe swiftly excused himself from the room, but Erik stopped him with a glance and told him to saddle two horses.
"Excuse me?" Philippe groaned. "Why in the hell would you wish to travel there?"
Slamming the bedroom door shut, Erik took up a seat by the bedside and stared hard at Philippe. Several seconds passed and Philippe was sitting up uncomfortably, an anxious look in his eye.
"That is where Turro will be found," Erik explained. "Listen closely. I loathe repeating myself."