Her flesh was so white that it seemed like a freshly fallen snow. Dipping over hills and valleys and splotched with the merest swirl of red where Alexei had thrown a velvet drape over her hips. She reclined on her side, with her hand beneath her head, propped up on an elbow. Her breasts were large, but not overly so. She was not buxom, not like the maids at the local brothel… but she had flesh on her bones. The effect was altogether stunning, her skin so white, and the candlelight shining in the auburn tresses of hair that fell through her fingers and across her shoulder. On her lips there was the barest hint of a smile, quirking with mischievous abandon and making her look altogether devilish. Her eyes were covered by an elaborate mask, her face shielded from his view by midnight blue velvet, faux gems, and ostrich feathers.
She was the talk of London, this mystery woman, she was a body that everyone recognized… she was that mask. She was the epitome of their desire and avarice; she was the root of their lust. It was rumored that she was a noblewoman who found her kicks in this particular way. It was also rumored that she was just some street slut with a beautiful body. There were rumors that beneath the mask she was hideously scarred; there were rumors that she was so beautiful her looks must be hidden lest the church condemn her for each of the seven deadly sins. She was a much-talked-about mystery… and he, Aeryk deMonteford, had felt a compelling need to see her for himself.
Her breath hitched slightly as she sighed, moving her hand ever so slightly in order to stifle a yawn before settling back into the exact same position that she'd held a moment before. The light scratching of brushstrokes on canvas caught his attention and he turned his head. Alexei worked with a thick brush, deftly creating each fold and shadow in the only piece of fabric covering the woman's body. He transferred that snowy flesh to canvas with a sure hand and a keen eye and once again Aeryk had to thank the fates that had made Alexei his friend. He turned chocolate colored eyes on the woman again and found that her blue eyes had come to rest on his form. She was so intent upon her inspection that for a moment she didn't seem to realize that he was watching her. When their eyes finally met, it was like a jolt of electricity passed between them. That quirky smile faded from her lips and she looked disconcerted, almost afraid. Aeryk took a step forward, hands reaching out to touch her…
"Aeryk!"
The sharp word, spat into the darkness of the boudoir, stopped him in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder at Alexei. The man glared at him with a venom unmatched by even the king himself. A slight shaking of his head was all it took for Aeryk to repress an irritated sigh and step backwards.
This had been a condition of his. Alexei had been blackmailed into showing Aeryk his model, this woman… but not without certain conditions. One, Aeryk was allowed to look… but not touch. He was not allowed to speak or pursue the woman outside of this studio. Aeryk… had agreed. Now, he felt like reneging on that promise.
He idly wondered if he could threaten Alexei with the same secret he'd used before. It would probably work. It wasn't everyday the court found out that one of their most prominent lord's heir… enjoyed boys as lovers. Aeryk thought it through then sighed, he'd pressed his luck with that charge before… he wasn't willing to shatter a friendship that had lasted decades… over a woman. And so he stopped, and looked back… and she was gone.
He hadn't even heard her move, so silently she'd fled. She was gone, however, and his dark eyes flashed around the studio in a vain attempt to find her. Without glancing back at Alexei, he started forward, jogging toward the door and catching his hand on the jamb. He stood there, brow furrowed in confusion as he looked about. Just as he was about to duck back into the studio, he caught sight of a corner of red, velvet cloth vanishing through a door toward the end of the hall. He started after her, nearly running in his haste to catch her but when he reached that doorway, she was out of sight already.
Stepping into that room, he noticed an adjoining door and crossed the expanse of floor. Flinging open that portal, he stepped through and followed a stairway downward. The torches were not lit here, the stairway was completely dark but for a streak of moonlight filtering in through roughly hewn windows in the estate wall. His feet trod heavily as he took the stairs two at a time, slipping, he fell and skidded down the rest of the steps with a curse on his lips and a developing bruise on his bottom. Once he came to a halt, he stood and saw her there, draped in the red cloak and standing over him. She seemed concerned, worry glittered in those sapphire eyes. Reaching out, he tried to grasp her, but did not move fast enough. She danced out of his grasp and he listened to the cool slap of bare feet echoing against the stones of the floor.
Aeryk launched himself upright and followed after her. It was a moment before she realized he was still following. She began to run. Holding the red velvet clutched tightly in her hands, she ran, bursting through the kitchen doorway and out into a small courtyard. The night was cold and there was a fine dusting of snow on the ground. He followed after her.
She was more agile, flitting away with the grace of a nymph, he clomped after her, his boots crunching heavily in the frozen remnants of grass. Her figure loomed closer and he reached out to touch her back. His fingers brushed the spot just between her shoulderblades and she sprinted then, with the quickness of a doe she ran… and he followed suit. It seemed to him to be a game as old as time, this mating ritual. She lured, he wanted, she denied, he took…
The courtyard's small width was traversed in moments and she hit a door on the other side. Momentum carried her forward so that she hit the door, her hands out in front of her to brace for impact. Her feet skidded in the snow and she reached for the latch to the door, her frozen fingers fumbling clumsily. She panted, her lungs aching from the air, her breath exiting in a puff of condensation. She glanced back over her shoulder as he approached, and she scrabbled at the latch even harder then.
God, why had Alexei brought this stranger? But no, he wasn't a stranger… not completely. She'd seen him for years, known his name, his face, the dirty blonde hair that fell haphazardly in his eyes, those eyes… God, those eyes. They were warm, brown, earthy, and held just a spark of mischief. She knew him, Aeryk deMontefort, had known him for the entirety of her two decades on earth. He'd watched her grow up… and he didn't even know it.
His body slammed into hers, knocking the breath from her lungs and a startled bleat from her throat. He had her trapped there, the wall of his chest pressed against her back with her forehead touching the cold wood of the door. Her hands fell from the latch as he grasped her upper arm and swung her around. She faced him then, with the mask between them. His gaze delved into her eyes, he panted… so did she.
Their stares locked for an uncountable moment. They just watched, paused, his warmth seeping into her through the velvet of the robe. His hand came up and he touched her face. She turned her head, denying him the privilege of seeing beneath the mask. His finger touched her lips then, giving in to her wish to remain anonymous. Just the barest fleeting touch, the slightest tickling pressure from the very tip of his finger. He touched her lips as they turned blue in the cold, ran his flesh across the tiny drop of glistening moisture that had wetted her bottom lip. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb brushed across the artificial ridge that hid her eyebrow from his view. He seemed to be trying to fathom the flesh. It was as if he was attempting to fill in the missing gap that was left by the mask.
