Hey everyone! Here is the next chapter for you all! All hail Juliana for her quickness in editing this chapter! It is finals week and she was still able to get it back to me in all haste!
Oh and as a side note to the question over if Conner is an Aries or a Sagittarius. I hadn't really thought about it until just now. But if I had to pick between those two choices I would say he is an Aries. I have actually been really pleased about everyone's interest in Conner. He is a great character and I am glad most people seem to agree with me.
By the way, in case it comes up later on, I also decided that Brielle is most like a Cancer, given her reserve to strangers but loyalty to family and friends.
But anyway enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 23: A Brother's Return
With his violin in hand Conner stepped through the doorway, a devilish smile plastered across his freckled face. "My, my, I leave for two weeks and here you two are already in each others arms! Unhand my sister sir!"
Erik didn't move, despite Conner's flamboyant command. No, it was worse than that; he found that he couldn't move. He stood perfectly still, his gaze riveted upon Brielle's face. Even when her eyes left him he couldn't turn from her, couldn't tear his gaze away from the soft curve of her cheek, the hollow of her throat, the fullness of her wonderful lips.
Why couldn't he look away? When had he lost his discipline so completely that he couldn't even turn his head away from this one woman?
Could it be because of the kiss? She was the second woman in his lifetime that had touched her lips to his, but surely that couldn't be the reason why he had suddenly lost his mind. Even after Christine had kissed him under the Opera house he remembered being able to think, to move, and he had been in love with her. This is something different. I don't love Brielle…I don't.
And then it occurred to him why he was covered in a cold sweat and paralyzed from head to toe. Just before Conner had burst into the house Erik had been about to tell Brielle the truth about his part in the unfortunate situation at the Opera House. That was why he couldn't look away from her now, because if he had actually told her what he had done, what he was, he would most certainly have lost her.
A woman like her, one who valued life so highly, would never be able to suffer the company of a murderer. And he was a murderer, no matter what the circumstances of each death had been. A killing was a killing, whether done in self-defense or in cold blood.
The blood he had spilt over his lifetime had soaked into every crevice of his soul, staining him black and eating away at his dreams. He should never have thought to burden Brielle with this knowledge. To spread his darkness into her light.
He could have lost everything.
With a shuddering breath, Erik slowly closed his eyes. Conner was speaking, he knew, but the man's voice sounded far away and garbled, drowned out by the roar of his thoughts. Only when he felt the cool trails of Brielle's fingers brushing his cheek was he able to move.
Slowly opening his eyes, Erik involuntarily turned his face into her touch. There was concern in her gaze as she laid her palm against his jaw. She had a right to be concerned; apparently he was becoming a raving lunatic.
"You look pale Erik. Are you alright?" At her words Conner stopped chattering and tilted his head to the side, mimicking his sister's close analysis of Erik's face right down to the furrow between his eyebrows.
"You needn't look so stricken Erik. I was only teasing you both when I came in. You have my full permission to manhandle my sister as often as you please." Though the redhead stated this with a straight, sober expression, his eyes danced merrily from under the strange wide-brimmed hat upon his head.
"Conner!" Brielle immediately gasped in shock. "Whatever has gotten into your head? Is that any way to speak? You are positively shocking!"
Ignoring his sister's outrage, Conner continued to stare steadily at the masked man. The hilarity in the redhead's gaze undid the writhing knot of tension coiled within Erik's gut. Unable to stand up against both Brielle's righteous outrage and Conner's uncouth nature, a smile cracked the corners of his mouth.
As if that was what he was waiting for, Conner likewise grinned before turning to take off his overcoat. "Now, now Bri. A brother has a right to look after his sister."
"You have lost your mind!"
"I have not!" he exclaimed, mimicking anger. Quickly crossing the room, Conner held out his arms and enveloped his sister in an affectionate embrace. "I missed you, love. England was dreary without my family."
"Oh, you are a terrible liar! You always have a wonderful time no matter where you are." Brielle said with a laugh, giving her brother's hat a flick with the tip of her finger. "Where did you get this horrible hat?"
"Horrible?" he asked affecting a hurt expression. "I stole this from the Texan who wouldn't pay what he owed me for our poker game! All the cowboys wear Stetsons," he said cockily, adding a bit of a swagger to his step.
"You are a cad, not a cowboy!" At her words, Conner stopped his preening and burst into laughter before kissing her upon the forehead, mussing her already disheveled hair.
Erik began to step away from the pair, intending to give their reunion proper space, but Conner's hand upon his arm stopped him. Looking over the top of Brielle's head the redhead's smile dimmed slightly. "Brielle, I am nearly dying of hunger. Would you mind fixing your dear brother a wee bit to eat?"
"Normally I would say fix it yourself, but seeing as I haven't yet gotten Aria her breakfast, I suppose I can make yours as well."
"Ah, there's a sweet lass," he replied, giving her hip a playful swat. "Off with you now. And mind that foot, else you'll make whatever you did to it worse," Conner called after his sister as she began to hobble down the hallway.
When the two men were finally left alone in the front hall, Conner grimaced and set his violin carefully on a nearby shelf. "What did she do to her foot anyway?"
Still a little muddled, Erik blinked in confusion, suddenly wondering exactly how much of what had happened that morning Conner knew. After all, this family always seemed to be two steps ahead of him. "How do you know she injured her foot?"
Rolling his eyes, Conner slapped a hand onto Erik's shoulder. "She is limping worse than a lame horse. Of course she did something to her foot. I may be a cad, but I am not blind."
Feeling very foolish, Erik merely nodded. The sensation of Conner's arm draped companionably over his shoulders was distracting him. It was still difficult for him to adjust to this family's ease with physical contact. Though, he had to admit, he didn't dislike their ways.
"Speaking of blindness, I do believe I must have a word with you." Conner stated whilst steering Erik down the hall and into the parlor.
Not liking the sudden seriousness in Conner's tone, Erik began to tense. "Oh, and what might that be?" he asked, with a slight growl.
Releasing Erik and striding over to the piano, Conner crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned a hip against the baby grand. He cocked an eyebrow at Erik's tone, but chose to ignore it. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I must ask you to be careful of Bri. She isn't as tough as she thinks she is."
Erik opened his mouth to reply, but Conner raised a hand to stop him. "She is a pretty girl and Lord knows she could use a good romance, but…"
Sputtering when he realized where Conner's words were leading, Erik took a step forward. "You misunderstand our relationship, sir. What you are suggesting is…"
A knowing smile slowly spread over the redhead's freckled face. "Are you trying to tell me you have been alone in this house with Brielle for two full weeks and you haven't once thought about…well need I even say it?"
Erik gaped open-mouthed at the other man, actually scandalized by the conversation. "Yes, er, I mean no! As I was saying, what you are suggesting is absolutely impossible!"
With a grunt, Conner ran a hand through his unkempt hair. "Impossible? Then you haven't tried to kiss her yet?"
A blush slowly flowed up Erik's neck and stained his cheeks scarlet. Horrified by his telling reaction, he squared his shoulders and fixed a dark brooding frown upon his face, hoping to distract Brielle's brother from his flushed cheeks. "I can honestly say I have not tried to lay hands upon your sister, sir!"
Unaffected by the masked man's glare, Conner sighed. "Sweet Mary, what the hell have you been waiting for then?"
Blinking in confusion, Erik's glare faltered. "Excuse me?"
"Well, what did you think I was staying away so long for?"
"Are you trying to tell me that you want your sister to become involved with a man she picked up from the bottom of an Opera House whom you hardly know! Didn't you just say you wanted me to stay away from her?"
"No," Conner began slowly, as if speaking to a difficult child. "I didn't ask you to stay away from her. I asked you to be careful of her. She had a terrible time of it when John died, but it is time she began to live her life again. And I like you, despite the fact that you are so serious all the time. That is one thing that you have in your favor over all the other boys that come sniffing about."
"I can't believe you are saying this."
"Ah well, I am a man ahead of my time. I can recognize when a lady needs a good kissing. And boy does my sister need to be kissed, and often."
"And you have chosen me to fulfill this task? Are you mad?" Erik asked, feeling a spike of fury stab through the confusion. How dare this man so casually suggest such a thing? As if being with a woman were as easy as falling off a log. It was infuriating.
"Maybe a little," Conner replied, removing his black cowboy hat and setting it on the piano next to him. The Cheshire cat grin was back in place, though his emerald eyes carefully followed Erik's form as the masked man began to pace about the room.
"No, that is where you are wrong. You are absolutely crazy!" Erik exploded, while jabbing a finger through the air at the other man. "How can you be so casual about your own sister's reputation? Do you do this often? Act the matchmaker like an old woman? Or is this a special case because for some reason you find it funny to torment your fellow man with impossibilities!"
As Erik ranted, Conner merely continued to follow him with his eyes, his arms still firmly crossed on his chest, one ankle hooked comfortably over the other. The Irishman didn't appear to be properly frightened of the furious display playing out before him, though his characteristic grin did fade down to a frown.
After several minutes of listening to extremely inventive cursing, Conner apparently had had enough. Pushing away from the piano he took one step towards Erik, instantly grabbing the raving man's attention. "Alright then boyo, seems to me I have stumbled upon a sore spot with you. Not very lucky with the ladies, eh?" he drawled, deliberately accentuating the lilt of his speech over the cruel words.
Erik froze in place for a split second, struck stupid as the blinding fury rolled red across his vision, before throwing himself across the room and into Conner's abdomen, tackling the redhead to the ground. The pair rolled across the Persian rugs, fists swinging, until Erik's back smashed into one of the piano's legs. A booklet of sheet music jostled free and came cascading down upon their heads as Erik took a shot and split Conner's lip.
With a violent shove Conner threw Erik off and sat up, bumping his head on the bottom of the piano. Carefully running his tongue over the cut on his bottom lip, a lopsided grin once again tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Damn it, you hit harder than a kicking mule!" he exclaimed, while wiping the blood from his chin. "Ah, but I have found a very sore spot. Tell me Erik who was she? The one that broke your heart…"
"Keep talking you insipid, moronic bastard and I'll rip your tongue out!" Erik hissed, flexing his aching knuckles with a sneer.
"Is that what is stopping you then?" Conner interrupted trying to smooth out the wildness of his hair.
"I am warning you…"
"Warn away my friend. I'll take anything you can throw." Conner shot right back, as he cracked his knuckles ominously. "So, was it because she met someone else or because she finally got tired of listening to you whine about the unfairness of…"
Conner ducked Erik's next punch; tucking his head under, he rammed into the older man, knocking them both off their feet. With a grunt they hit the ground hard, the echo of bodies thumping against wood reverberating about the house. Over the sawing of their harsh breathing, the sound of a pan being hastily tossed onto the stove could be heard.
After scuffling about on the floor for several more minutes, the pair broke apart panting. Erik clutched at his mask to assure himself it was still in place as Conner flopped flat onto the ground, one bloodied hand coming up to cover his eyes.
"Are you quite done yet?" Conner finally asked when he could catch his breath. When there was no reply but brooding silence from Erik, the redhead turned his head and squinted over at the other man.
"Am I done?" Erik shot back, the anger still hot in his tone. "You, sir, are the one who started all this. Whatever did I do to you that prompted such cruelty?"
"Cruel? Is that what you thought I was being?" Conner asked, for once not smiling. With a grunt he sat up, several unruly red locks falling into his eyes as he stared intently over at Erik. "Listen, to me very carefully. Bri likes you. She has responded to you more than anyone else in the last four years. A part of her died the day they put John in the ground and only very recently have I seen her begin to come to life again. And that is because of you. So I decided not to let you mess everything up, even if it means I have to bleed a little to make a point."
Touching a finger to his bruised lip, Conner finally turned his gaze away from the man slouched a few feet from him. "What is really holding you back? In the beginning maybe it was another girl, but what is it now?"
Too tired to argue anymore Erik shook his head, trying desperately to keep up with what was going on. "You speak of things that just aren't meant to be. You misunderstand our relationship; I am her friend…nothing more."
"Damn, but you must be a dolt if you believe that. Haven't you been paying attention?"
"Shut your mouth! You don't know what it is like. Such things must be easy for you!" Erik spat, stabbing a finger in Conner's direction. "There is nothing to be desired in your looks. You are a god damned Irish Adonis! The women must fawn all over your eyes, your hair, your face! I hate men like you, who take it for granted that they are being admired." Clamoring to his knees, Erik slammed a frustrated fist against the floor, sorry suddenly that he had revealed so much to this moron.
Leaning back on his elbows, Conner sighed, apparently not insulted by Erik's barbing. "I thought as much, I just needed to get you to say it," he murmured to himself.
"You what!" Erik sputtered.
"I figured if I let you beat on me a bit it would work out some of your stiffness and loosen your tongue," he replied with a pained grin. "Admitting a problem is a good start to getting over it."
"There is nothing to get over! I am a bloody monster!"
"Has Brielle ever shown you a picture of Jonathan?" Conner cut in suddenly, one eyebrow cocked in inquiry.
"What has that got to do with any…"
"Has she!"
"No you baboon!"
"Did she ever mention the fire then?"
Unable to predict where Conner was going with this line of thought, Erik merely shook his head. "No I don't believe so."
"You realize there isn't anything in the world that would surprise Bri. She has seen men's heads taken off by cannon balls and soldiers so burned that their bodies were nothing more than mummified flesh."
"I know that, but…"
"Did you also know, oh wise one, that she married a man who was severely burned as a child when the Donovan summer estate burned down? He was badly scarred down one whole side of his face. But our Bri has the unique ability to see things others cannot. Convenient, isn't it?"
Caught completely off guard, Erik could only gape at Conner.
"Ah, I see you didn't know all this."
"She did mention something about a fire, but I thought it was to just cover up for…" Erik trailed off at a loss for words, even as his mind turned furiously within his head. Could it be possible? Had he actually found a woman who would be able to look upon his face without shuddering? It was too much to hope for. He couldn't allow himself to hope for such things, for eventually his dreams would surely be dashed against the harshness of reality.
Slowly Erik brought one hand up to splay across the coolness of his mask. He closed his eyes against the images now floating unbidden through his head. Brielle smiling at him over the breakfast table drifted into his thoughts, only to be replaced by the sight of her long, graceful leg which only just that morning he had held in his hands. God, her skin had been so soft. Damn it, this is all Conner's fault!
"Don't throw something good away just because you are scared of what might happen," Conner stated slowly as he stumbled to his feet. Turning, the red headed man held out a hand to Erik to help him up just as Brielle marched into the room. Sometime during the time she had been gone she had managed to pin her hair atop her head. Though her appearance was now more respectable the annoyance flooding her face caused her to seem flustered and unkempt.
"What the bloody hell have you two been doing in here?" she demanded, her hands fisted upon her hips in classic Brielle battle mode.
"We were just talking. Weren't we, Erik?" Conner lied easily as he quickly pulled the masked man to his feet.
"Oh, save it!" Brielle sighed as she stepped into the room, carefully maneuvering around the scattered music sheets. "I told you, Conner, not to start brawling in this house. I'll have your hide if you broke anything!"
Huffing, Conner pulled off his askew cravat and tossed it over his shoulder. "We didn't break anything. But thank you for being so worried about our wellbeing. I am bleeding, you know!"
"You can bleed to death for all I care, so long as it isn't on my new carpets."
Conner merely laughed at that. "Or on that lovely dress. My, my Bri, you do look splendid today!"
Self-consciously bringing a hand up to cover the low swoop of her neckline, Brielle glared at her brother before hobbling over to where Erik now stood. She gazed up at him, her eyes quickly assessing his face for any injury. He felt the severe downward pull of his mouth soften slightly.
Her eyes were always a fascination for him. On first glance they appeared to be simply gray, but upon closer examination one could find worlds of color drifting in the infinity of her irises. Though he didn't want to admit it, he could imagine losing himself in her eyes for the rest of his life. Despite all his reservations, a grain of hope had taken hold within his heart. What am I going to do?
"Are you alright? He didn't hurt you did he?"
Erik blinked, trying to clear his thoughts when Brielle's voice broke into his musings. "Hmm, did you say something?"
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth at his uncharacteristic lack of eloquence. "I asked if you were alright."
"Perfectly fine," he replied warily, taking a step away from her.
The grin finally broke free and blazed across her face. "Well at least there is that. Anyway boys, I came in to tell you both that breakfast is…"
Brielle's words cut off in the middle of her sentence, as suddenly as if a hand had clamped unseen over her mouth. Her gaze drifted away from Erik's to stare unfocused over his shoulder. He watched with growing anxiety as her pupils dilated and overtook the soft misty hue of her eyes, turning them nearly black. Her brows slowly rose as an expression of raw terror sucked all the color from her cheeks.
"Brielle," he began, one hand tentatively reaching out to brush her arm. When she didn't respond to his voice, he took hold of her wrist. "Brielle, what is the matter!"
Hearing the worry in Erik's voice, Conner came striding across the room. "What is going on?"
"I don't know. She was talking to me and then she just stopped," he snapped while waving a hand in front of her vacant eyes. "Brielle!"
Conner went suspiciously quiet at Erik's words, slowing his steps as he came alongside his sister. "Don't worry. She'll be fine," he murmured as he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Has she been having nightmares lately?"
"How should I know!"
Waving off Erik's reply, Conner sighed. "Never mind then." Carefully, the redhead placed a hand on Brielle's shoulder; leaning in close, he put his mouth next to her ear.
"Bri, love, what is the matter?" Still she didn't answer as she stared off at nothing, barely even blinking all the while. Shooting a wary glance Erik's way, Conner rephrased the question. "Bri, what do you see?"
Without looking away from a spot on the wall, Brielle replied slowly, "It is dark. Black all around, but there is a light above. Like a crack in the sky. Someone is leaning over the light looking down, but it is so cold. Do you see him?" Her hands began to shake violently as a series of shivers wracked her body. "It's cold….and I can't breathe….I can't breathe!"
"What the hell is going on!" Erik demanded loudly, the anxiety quickly turning to sickening fear. What if something is terribly wrong? She could be very ill…she could die! "Wake her up!" he shouted. Without thinking about it he leaned forward and gripped her upper arms, giving her a good shake.
Brielle blinked at the jostling and swung her eyes to Erik's, her hands coming up to tangle in his lapels. "Don't let go, Erik. Don't let go."
"I won't," he swore, the fear that something was terribly wrong with her choking him now.
Gasping for breath, Brielle slowly smiled up at him, some color returning to her cheeks. Relief flooded her face as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted dead away into Erik's stunned embrace.