I close my eyes and think of Autumn.
Of the way she lifted her arms and gathered her hair into a ponytail so it would not disturb her while she worked. How the action had left her ears and white neck so exposed I could see the little pulse beating at the hollow of her throat. I hungered for her then. The desire was blind and ancient. Like a strongly beating heart it had a life and a will of its own. The need was too terrible, too terrible to bear.
I forgot where I was, who I was.
I stood and had already taken two steps towards her, when her sweet voice asking, “Is everything okay?” somehow penetrated my monstrous hunger. I apologized, made some excuse, and sat back down, shocked. Finally. Finally, I understood what I’d never comprehended before, the agony of desire.
I had come so close to almost losing control. So close it was frightening.
My eyes snap open. In the glass my eyes look haunted and desperate. What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t control myself? What if I am just like my family? Principles are all good… until they are put to the test.
An image of my father’s face, cold and forbidding, comes into my head and a low growl rattles dangerously in my throat. I can and I will do this. I will do it if it kills me. I have not spent all these years watching her, protecting her, and guiding her towards me, to fail now.
She is mine.
A white flash of light is followed by a roar of thunder. I already know the road down the mountain will be unusable tonight. I will ask William to get one of the maids to prepare the suite next to mine for her.
I put the empty glass back on the table and leave the room without looking at her unfinished portrait of me.
Chapter 20
Autumn
As I wash my hands I stare at my own reflection. I don’t look at myself. My skin looks feverish and my eyes seem to glitter strangely. I tell myself it is just the excitement of being in this vast mansion on a mountain. A place no one in the village has ever been inside.
My eyes slide away at the lie. I wipe my hands on a fluffy hand towel and start to make my way to the dining table. Halfway there I pause. Then I turn around and go back to the library. I want to just look at my painting again. There is no one in the library and I walk quickly towards my painting.
I stand a few feet away and look at it. I have made a good start. The outline and the base coat are done, but I have left his eyes completely blank. Later, when everything else is done I will paint them. They are the doorways to his tortured soul.
I close my eyes and remember them.
Immediately they float into view. Translucent and haunted with pain. As blue as the ocean on a sunny day, but in their midst, I detect fiery glints. Glints, I know will change with his emotions. They are so vivid I know I can paint them when I am at home.
I open my eyes and am about to turn away from my canvas when there is a sudden loud clap of thunder, and all the lights go out. A small cry of surprise escapes out of my mouth. As there is no fireplace in this room, the room is now in complete blackness. I freeze with a strange and unnamable fear. Without the lights this place seems sinister. I can hear my heart beating loudly in my chest. Firmly, I tell myself not to be a dramatic coward. All I have to do is wait for another flash of lightning and I will be able to see a path to the door.
I take a deep breath. The darkness seems velvet. Seems almost to touch my skin. I feel my hands tremble. Then suddenly, there is a light at the doorway. I turn towards it like a newborn baby turning towards it’s mother’s nipple. Instinctively, without thought, purely from muscle memory.
Rocco is holding a candlestick. And in the flickering yellow light he seems bulkier, deadlier, and scarier. A predator! The light in his eyes that I had naively thought was torment, glowed like the pitiless fire in a falcon’s eyes. My whole body freezes.
I open my mouth to speak and to my amazement no words will come out. My mind is blank. I can’t even think of his name. It’s not that I forgot, but I’m so astonished by my discovery it won’t come to mind. My mouth trembles in shock.
“I’m afraid the storm has caused a power cut,” he says, moving further into the room. “Let me escort you to the dining room.”