Paladin105
The sickening sound of fabric ripping filled the air for only a heartbeat, but it was enough to terrify Sophia. Her eyes widened and she stared at the parlor door and wished she could disappear before her aunt found her half-naked with a man.
Ancient threats of convents or exile from France entered her mind. She could still clearly hear her mother warning of unwanted children—or worse yet: Disgracing the family. Surely Aunt Anne was no different. Indeed, she was probably worse.
"Yoo hoo!" Citrine called out. "We're home!"
"Must you yell? I told you I have a headache," Aunt Anne snapped.
"You wouldn't have a headache if you'd had another glass of wine," Citrine replied dryly.
Sophia cringed. Her aunt was undoubtedly sober and would remember each detail of this evening until she was dead. "She'll murder me," Sophia said under her breath.
Erik squeezed her wrist. "Turn around."
"I beg your pardon?"
He stepped behind her and she felt the warmth of his fingertips skim along her back. It was almost impossible to resist a shiver of pleasure. Her knees threatened to give out, but fear kept her upright.
"Here," he said coolly. Clearly he didn't know her aunt if he wasn't about to panic. "I buttoned the top one and the middle one."
"Wonderful," she replied dryly.
"Sit." He grabbed her by the shoulders and escorted her toward the piano bench where he promptly sat her down and removed his overcoat. He helped her thread her arms through its sleeves.
"What are you doing?"
"Keeping you warm," he mumbled.
"I don't understand."
"I gave you my coat because you were cold." He slid into his seat beside her and stuffed his cravat—which she hadn't seen him retrieve—into his pocket, then donned his mask and ran his hands over his hair.
"But I—" She paused mid-sentence and nodded, finally understanding. "Oh."
"And I've always been very hot-blooded." He smiled slyly, his gaze sweeping up her dress to her face. His eyes creased with amusement and unabashed longing. "Very."
"You are pure mischief." She felt herself blush again but forced a smile, as she heard Citrine and Aunt Anne walking down the hallway.
"Indeed." Erik dusted off his shirt sleeves and squared his shoulders. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he gathered the sheet music and searched for a particular piece. "Now, relax."
"Easy for you to say," she muttered.
-o-
There was no erasing the look of pure guilt on Sophia's face. No matter what he said or did, she could not pretend they had merely sat for a quiet supper and retired to the parlor for her music lesson—even if her virtues were still in tact and her dignity preserved.
"We've returned." Citrine tapped on the door before she opened it a crack and smiled. "How was your meal?"
Sophia inhaled sharply, her face turning an even deeper shade of red.
"It was fine," Erik answered. He purposely nudged Sophia with his forearm and she nodded in silent agreement.
"Good." Citrine glanced over her shoulder as Madame Giry murmured some protest. "Straight to bed, Madame?"
"No," came the acidic reply.
Erik's jaw tightened. He should have known the old biddy would stick her nose into the parlor. He imagined she'd take one look at Sophia and decide if her precious niece had been ravaged all evening.
Citrine turned back to Erik and Sophia and rolled her eyes. "We've had a very charming evening. I'd hate to see it end now," she said dryly.
"Where did you go?" Sophia asked. For the first time she looked over her shoulder at her friend.
"To the orchard and back. The air is cold and damp, the most dreadful combination for bad knees and hips." She pushed open the door and shrugged. Erik noted her slurred words and clumsy entrance and knew she was a bit too relaxed. "I wasn't cold, but I had wine to drink." She sniffed the air. "It's much too warm in here, don't you think? Or is it just me?"
"I'm cold," Sophia announced as though she'd rehearsed the two words all night. Clearly she was unaccustomed to lying.
"I see. You've stripped poor Monsieur Belmont nearly naked and stolen his coat."
Now it was Erik's turn to be red-faced. He coughed to clear his throat and regain his composure, wishing to God that Sophia would say something, anything, before her aunt ran into the parlor and tore them both apart.
"I have not done anything wrong! He offered his coat," Sophia snapped. "He's a gentleman. Citrine, you shouldn't say such terrible things."
"Oh, calm down. You know I'm having a bit of fun with you, Sophia."
A door down the hall opened and closed. Once again Citrine turned away. "Feeling better, Madame?"
There was no answer. Madame Giry pushed past Citrine and looked Sophia over, her eyes narrowing. Erik considered standing, but decided not to draw attention to himself.
"What is with all of this yelling?" Madame asked.
"I'm not yelling." Citrine cross and uncrossed her arms.
"Of course you are. The horses in the stables can hear you."
"You're being overly dramatic," Sophia answered softly.
Madame Giry surveyed the room, her lips tightly pursed. "What has happened here, hmm? Why are you wearing a man's jacket?" She turned to Citrine and gave an exaggerated sigh. "This house is like a drafty old barn. Someone should have started a fire to warm this place. Didn't I tell you it was cold?"
"Yes, but you complained about the cold when we were outside, when it was obviously cold," Citrine replied.
Madame Giry ignored the cook and turned back to Sophia. "Here. Take my shawl and you'll be much more comfortable."
"Thank you, but I'm fine."
"No, you're not fine. Don't argue with me."
"Auntie Anne, I'm not arguing."
"But you're disagreeing."
Sophia gave a nervous laugh. "I don't mean to be disagreeable, but I swear to you, I'm comfortable. Really. This overcoat is very warm."
Madame Giry stepped forward. "Don't be silly, Sophia, you don't know what's best."
"Aunt Anne—"
"Come here at once. It is simply ridiculous for a pretty young woman to be wearing a man's coat. Look at you in that oversized thing. Now, stand up. I will not have you argue with me over petty details, child."
Sophia's nostrils flared and her face reddened. "You don't know what makes me comfortable and what does not! Quit treating me like a child!" She accidentally hit her elbow on the piano keys, which protested with a reverberating sound that briefly filled the stunned silence. At last she harnessed her anger and pursed her lips. "Thank you, but no thank you."
Madame Giry went white as a ghost and Erik was almost certain she would either burst into tears right there or turn and run from the parlor, then return to her room in tears. Instead, she held up her chin and stiffened her spine. "I'm merely looking out for you, child."
"I'm not a child. I do not need looking out for." She looked down at the floor, then back at her aunt. Bravely she held the older woman's gaze, her fears and guilt seemingly relinquished. "And I will not apologize for growing up."
Erik slid his hand over hers and gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
With one last look, her aunt nodded and fixed her gaze above their heads. Erik was certain she would hold this moment inside of her for as long as she lived. "I trust you will not stay awake all night long playing the piano while decent people are sleeping. After all, I'm sure your brother would worry about your health."
"An hour more, Auntie," Sophia answered.
To Erik's surprise, Madame Giry didn't attempt to talk Sophia down to a half hour. She merely nodded and stood with as much dignity as she could muster. "Good night, Sophia."
It came as no surprise that she hadn't acknowledged him before she stalked from the room. Together Erik and Sophia watched her leave with Citrine close behind.
"Where did that come from?" Erik murmured once they were alone. He ran his fingers up her spine, strangely attracted to her more assertive nature. He hadn't seen her feisty side in so long that he'd nearly forgotten it existed.
"I have no idea," Sophia answered.