6 comments/ 6138 views/ 4 favorites The Mask Ch. 02 By: Kayadale Miranda looked over her shoulder as she followed her little sister down a well used alleyway, and through a garden gate. She recalled the last time she came this way, a little over two months ago. When she had followed her sister into a house they both thought was empty. She paused as the memories of fear, pain and pleasure that she felt came flooding back. "Are you coming, Randy?" Carrie-Anne asked as she stood in the middle of the garden. "Henry is expecting me." "Yes," she said as she started to walk again. Carrie-Anne ran up to a back door and knocked. A heavy set man with a grizzly beard opened the door and smiled down at the child. "Hi Henry," Carrie-Anne said as she smiled up at the man. "My sister came this time." Henry looked from the bright eyed girl, to the slip of a woman standing in the yard looking very pale. He watched as her hands played with her skirt. He then nodded to her, "my lady, welcome." He moved to hold the door open. Remembering her manners, Miranda nodded back and followed her little sister into the kitchen. Carrie Anne ran over to a oak table, that was filled with bowls, she picked up a wooden spoon, then turned to Henry, who was closing the door. "What are we making today?" she asked. "Short bread." Henry answered as he walked over to the table. "My secret recipe, so you must promise not to tell another living soul." "I promise. So does Randy, right Randy?" Carrie-Anne turned to look at her sister. She didn't understand what was wrong with Miranda lately. She seemed sad all the time and would lock herself in her room until midday. Also she stopped telling her not to call her "Randy". Carrie-Anne knew she hated that nickname. "Of course," Miranda answered. She was standing just off to the side, wondering how to approach the subject of the other man who lived in this house. Her hand went to her stomach and she took a deep breath. "But I'm not here to bake cookies," she whispered. Henry turned and looked at her. He frowned. "Then what can we do for you, my lady?" he asked. She licked her lips slightly then looked around the room, acting very nervous. "How much flour?" Carrie-Anne asked as she started to scoop some into the bowl. "Just a couple more scoops, then add the sugar," Henry said, taking his eyes off the nervous woman, and looking back at the child. He smiled to himself. She reminded him of how his daughter was at that age, so full of life. "I want to see the master of this house." Miranda said in one breath, almost afraid that the words would not escape her mouth. Henry turned back to her. "Very well, my lady. If you would care to wait in the library, I will see if the Lord will see you." He nodded, then turned back to Carrie-Anne. "Keep stirring, Carrie-Anne. I will be back to help you shortly." "Okay, Henry," the child said as she started to stir. Henry moved to the kitchen door and held it open for Miranda to pass. He watched her hold her head up high and leave the kitchen. Henry grabbed a candle as he followed her. She was standing just outside the door, in the dark hallway. "This way," Henry made a movement with his head and started to walk down the hall. Miranda followed closely, keeping within the light. This house seemed full of shadows. And dark shadows had always scared her as a child. You never knew what might be hiding in them. Henry opened a thick wooden door.. "The library," he announced. Miranda nodded and moved through the door. The room was dark and cold. She turned back as Henry handed her the candle. He then closed the door and she was alone in the room. Miranda took a deep breath, and moved towards the windows. She placed the candle down on a table, then grabbed the heavy velvet curtains and opened them. She blinked as bright sunshine filled the gloomy room. She quickly made her way to the other three windows in the room, opening them up. For the first time, she was really able to see the beauty of this room. She slowly walked around, running her hands over all the beautiful books. Wondering if the man would let her read them. She shook her head, once she told him what she had to tell him, he would probably kill her. She had seen the look in his eyes when she had pulled off his mask. She knew he was capable of it. She slowly turned around towards the fireplace, and looked up at the painting. She gasped as she looked at the once beautiful portrait. It was cut up. Like someone had taken a sword to it. 
Why would anyone want to ruin such a beautiful face? She wondered as she stared at the ruined picture. She could still make out part of the man's face. The left side. She looked around again, and this time noticed that sofa that she had lost so much on, was gone. She looked down at her hand, a thin scar covered her palm, where she had cut herself, and ruined the sofa, and his shirt. What was she doing here? She wondered. She could have fixed her problem down by the docks, but no, she had to return here. To face him again. She still remembered the anger on his face, and passion in his eyes. She moved back to one of the book cases. She ran her hands over a couple books, pausing on one of her favourites. King Lear. She slowly took the book and moved to a big arm chair right by one of the windows. She sat down, tucking her legs under her, balancing the book on her knees and started to read. ***************** The knock brought him out of his thoughts. Slowly he turned and looked at the door. It opened, and Henry popped his head in. "There's someone here to see you." "Edward's early," He said as he turned away from his desk, adjusting the mask he always wore. "It's not the King," Henry stated. "It's a lady." "Carrie-Anne for her cooking lesson?" He asked as he stood up. He enjoyed when Carrie-Anne came over, it was the only time Henry would bake. "Yes, she is here. But that is not who is in the library waiting for you." Henry nodded slightly to him as he slipped out the door. "It's her sister." The door closed with him just staring at it. Carrie-Anne's sister. He didn't even know her name, but he couldn't forget her. The way her body felt under his, the way her pussy had felt around his cock. He moaned as he felt himself harden. Why was she back here? He wondered. For the past two months he had dreamt of her, the smell of her hair, the taste of her lips, the way they parted when she gasped. He turned sharply back to his desk. He braced his hands on it and closed his eyes. That girl was back. The only one to see his face besides Henry in years. And she was back. Why? he wondered again. Was it to ridicule him. Call him a freak? He stood up and frowned. He had to see her again. Slowly he turned and walked over to the fireplace in the room. He touched the mantel, and a secret door opened. He moved slowly into the tight space and walked down the steep stairs that lead directly to the library. He stood in front of the panel, his hand just over the lever that opened the door. He could have sworn he could smell her from here. He adjusted himself, then opened the panel. He blinked at the bright light. He had lived in darkness so long, the sun was almost painful. He grunted and walked over to the open curtains, closing them harshly. He then turned and saw her. She was sitting in one of the arm chairs, an open book in her lap, and her eyes closed. He moved closer to her, closing the curtains as he went, leaving one open just a bit so she could see. He finally stood in front of her, just looking at her. She was as beautiful as he remembered. Her delicate skin, those lush pink lips, that just begged for him to kiss them. And he was not going to be denied. Slowly he reached down and removed the book from her lap. He glanced at it, and raised an eye brow. He closed the Shakespearean play and placed it back on the shelf. He then moved back to her, leaned over and slowly ran his fingers over her soft cheek. 
Her eyes shot open as he touched her, she gasped, opening those sweet lips. He slowly smiled at her, then leaned down and kissed her hard. She moaned and tried to move away from him. He lifted his head and frowned at her. His eyes questioning "The mask hurts," she said as she rubbed her cheeks. The man ran his hand through his hair. "Well, I'm not taking it off, and neither are you," he warned as he leaned foward and kissed her gently, trying not to rub the mask into her face. She kissed him back, cherishing the feel of his lips. Even with the rough plaster rubbing against her cheeks, his kiss made her feel funny again. The feeling deep in the pit of her stomach was back. That tingly feeling between her legs. He stopped kissing her and stood back. She just sat there panting, staring up at him. He wanted her. Probably more then the first time he had saw her. He didn't care why she was here, he just wanted to be in her. He reached down, grabbed her arms and pulled her into his. He then looked down at her, slowly his hand moved to her back, undoing the buttons of her dress. 
"No," she gasped as she tried to get away. "That's not why I'm here." "I don't care," he said as he slid the dress off her shoulders. "It's what I want. I want you." He moved his head and licked her neck. She gasped as her hands came up to rest on his arms. She wanted him too. He smiled as his hand cupped her breast, toying with the nipple. He moved in to suck upon it, through the material of her under garments. "No..." she said as she pushed away from him, and moved behind a sofa. He slowly raised his head and looked at her. "Get back here." He ordered. "No. I came here for reason," she said, as she pulled up her dress. He sighed and looked at her. He shook his head and remembered why he never bothered with 'ladies' when he was younger. The court whores never wanted anything but a couple of pounds. "And what is that reason?" he asked in hope that it would shut her up so he could fuck her again. He adjusted himself, then walked around the sofa, to where she was standing. She watched him walk towards her. The look in his eyes made her mouth go dry. It was a mix between hatred and desire. She knew no matter what, she wasn't going to leave this house without him having sex with her again. He would probably use her like he did before, then throw her out. Then she would have nothing. She sniffed and bit back some tears. He stopped and frowned. They just stared at each other for a couple moments. He then moved, grabbing her by the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. He started harsh, then became gentle as he licked the outline of her lips. "Don't start crying," he whispered as he took her earlobe into his mouth. "I... I..." she lost all thought as the tingling started up again in her stomach. Slowly her hand moved in front of her to push him away, but stopped when she touched something. The man chuckled and moved back to look in her eyes. "Yes, little one, move your hand a bit." She licked her lips while she stared into his grey eyes. Her hand slowly started to move up and down the hard bulge in his pants. He closed his eyes, and sighed, loving the feel of her hand on him. But he wanted more. "Do you know what that is, little one?" he asked. She just stared at him. "Let me show you," he said as he undid the ties of his pants, moving them aside he brought out his manhood. He then took her hand and wrapped it around him, then moved it up and down, showing her how to touch him. Never once did he stop looking in her eyes. She started to breath heavily as her hand moved up and down him. He felt hard, yet soft and silky. So different from her. She looked down when something wet and sticky rubbed up against her hand. She saw him for the first time. The last time she had seen a penis was when her brother was just a baby and she helped the nanny give him a bath. It seemed like nothing to her. Now, with this man, it was completely different. She was enthralled with it, with him. Slowly she brought her other hand to touch him. He gasped and she smiled. She figured that touching him like this made him feel the same way she felt when he touched her. She slowly went down on her knees, to get a better look at him. She ran her hand along the shaft, her fingers rubbing against the slit at the tip of his penis, that was leaking pre-cum. He watched her lick her lips again, and he wanted those lips on his cock. He moved his hand to the back of her head and pushed it towards him. "Open your lips, little one," he whispered harshly. She did as he had asked, opening her mouth. He smiled and moved to place himself in. "Now suck. No teeth." She did as he ordered. Letting her tongue touch the tip. She loved the feeling of him in her mouth. The pulsing of his penis against her tongue, the way his hand was in her hair moving her head back and forth. His breathing got harsh and he pulled her head against him, causing his penis to hit the back of her throat, choking her. 
She panicked and tried to push away. He let go of her as he started to cum. She fell back, causing his cum to splatter all over her face. "Ew..." she said as she brought her hand up to her face, that was all sticky. "You peed on me." "Not pee, little one. My seed." He smiled and pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and handed it to her. His seed. She looked up at him as she started to wipe her face. She had been to eager to please him, to play with his penis, for her pleasure and his, that she had forgotten why she was here. It was because of his seed. She slowly stood up, pushed her hair out of her face, and started at him. He put himself back in his pants and tied them up. Then he smiled at her. "It will be awhile before I'm able to fuck you properly. Tell me the reason you came here today." He said as he moved over to a side board to pour himself a drink. "I'm going to have a baby." she said He was about to take a drink, but stopped when she spoke. Slowly he turned around, leaned back against the sideboard, and started swirling the liquid in his glass. "And who's the lucky father?" He asked, keeping his anger under control. The little slut. "You are." "Am I?" he mocked her as he took a drink. "Prove it." "What?" She gasped. This is what she was afraid of. She was going to sent away to convent, her baby taken away from her. She'd never find a husband. She would be forced to be a nun. She didn't want to be a nun. "I said, prove it." He repeated. "You took my innocence." "So." "You made me pregnant." "I fucked you, true. You might have been a virgin, but who's to say you didn't go out the next day and spread your legs for another man?" He spat at her. "You were very eager to take my cock within your mouth just now. How many cocks have you sucked?" She took a step back, stumbling and falling back into a sofa. She just stared at him. The hateful words were sweeping over her. She knew he had a dark side, had seen it. But she believed he was really a nice man. He wasn't nice. He was hateful. He started at her. The shocked look on her face made him believe that she wasn't lying. That she was pregnant with his child. He couldn't be a father. What kid would want a monster as a father. The little bitch found out who he was, that's why she broke in her, that's why she allowed him to have his way with her. 
 He almost growled as he threw the glass he was holding into the fireplace. He had gone on a rampage after she had left her the last time. Ripping his portrait to shreds, all because she had seen his face. But now, he didn't know what to do. "I never.." she said as big tears rolled down her cheeks. "You are the only one..." His heart melted a little bit at her words. He was the only one. But he couldn't be the one. Surely her father would marry her off when he found out. Or send her to a convent. Those thoughts made him frown. He didn't want his child being raised by another man or by a pack of nuns. Which left only one option. That she wouldn't have his baby. He started to move towards her, his hand in a fist. He was sure Henry could find someone to take care of the little problem, and if she didn't live through it, oh well. Although as much as he tried to tell himself he didn't care, he did. The thought of her dying made him sad. Miranda started to cry harder as she saw the cold look in his eyes. She watched the internal fight in his eyes, then they went cold. She feared that look. Feared that he would just kill and throw her in an alley. She didn't want to die. "My lord?" a voice filled the room. He turned sharply at the double doors, where Henry was standing. "The King is here." "Hello Eric," A slightly balding man walked into the library, followed by two rather skinny tired looking men. A couple soldiers appeared at the door. Henry moved to the side to let them in. "Edward," The masked man said as he turned away form Miranda. "How are you?" "Fine, Fine," The King said as his eyes fell upon the crying girl. Now that was last thing he would expect to see in this house. He hadn't seen another human being with Eric in over 10 years. Miranda sniffed and tired to stop crying, as she stared at the man who was identified as the King of England. She slowly stood up to curtsy, but her dress fell, exposing her thin material clade breasts. "Oh," she gasped as she pulled the dress up, then made a really sloppy curtsy. The King smiled at her, then looked back at his friend, his eye brows raised. "Christ," Eric swore as he moved over to Miranda, turned her around roughly, and started to do up her dress. Then whispered in her head, "This is not over, little one." She started to cry again. "Bloody hell," he cursed as he turned her and pulled her to his chest. "Quit crying. The fuckin' King is here." "Eric," the King warned. "Let the girl go." Eric did as he was ordered, letting Miranda go and moved back over to the sideboard to get another drink. He hoped Edward would keep his visit short, although they spent most of their time together drinking and talking into the wee hours of morning. The King went over and took Miranda's hand. "What is your name, my dear?" he asked gently. "Miranda Montgomery," she whispered. "Your majesty." "Well Miranda, why are you here?" the King glanced over at his friend. Who was drinking rather heavily. "I... I.." she glanced over at Eric, who just shrugged. Eric. His name was Eric. She liked that name. The hand that held hers tightened, and she looked back at the King. "Well?" he promoted. "I'm pregnant." She said. "Fuck." Eric swore. "You stupid whore!" He yelled at her. "You had to tell him." "Eric," the King warned. "He asked..." she sobbed. "He asked.." Eric mocked as he slammed down his glass. "Enough," the King ordered. He took the crying girl into his arms, rubbing her back slowly, and turned to Eric. "Is it true?" "It's what she says." "It is yours?" "It's what she says." "Do you doubt it?" Eric paused. He had known Edward since he was 10 years old. He was the only other man beside Henry and his doctors who had seen his face. He trusted him, not just as his King, but as a friend. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I did take her virginity." He admitted. The King nodded and looked at the girl. "Who is your father?" he asked her. "Earl of Rochester," she whispered. The King frowned. She was a lady, and Eric had deflowered her and got her pregnant. He only saw one solution. He patted the girl on her back and sat her down on the sofa, then turned to one of his men. "Go fetch a priest and get a marriage contract ready." He ordered. "No," Eric cried out. "Edward, you can't..." "She is an Earl's daughter," he stated. "She is a high born lady. You ruined her. Whether this child is your or not, it is your duty as a titled gentleman. And no matter what, you are a gentleman." The Mask Ch. 03 Soft. Warm. Tired. Those were the first thoughts that ran through her mind as she slowly opened her eyes. She stretched and yawned, letting her fingers roam over the soft silky sheets. She never remembered her sheets feeling so soft before. The room was warm too. Annie must have started a fire for her. She turned over and snuggled back into the bed, then slowly opened her eyes. She blinked a couple times and stared at the unfamiliar desk that was against the wall. She sat up, finally realizing that she was not in her own room. Looking down she noticed she was wearing no night clothes either. She pulled the sheet over her breasts and looked around the room. It was painted a dark colour, a fire was burning in the fireplace. A desk was under a window, with the curtains drawn shut. Over the fireplace was a painting of a handsome man and beautiful woman, in between them, a little boy. Below the painting, on the mantel, were several masks. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The night before came back to her. She was married. Not only married, but married by order of the King of England. No bans were read, no wedding was planned. Just a priest and a contract. Why a priest she wondered. She knew the king wasn't Catholic, maybe Eric was. Eric Lancaster. Duke of Ridgemont. The name sent chills up her spine. She was now the Duchess of Ridgemont. A title that her father had promised to her older sister. They were always told she was betrothed to the Duke. Deep down Miranda always knew the Duke wouldn't marry Sabrina, not after what happened 10 years ago. The scars. She let out a cry as if it just occurred to her what his scars meant. It was her fault. If he ever found out, he would kill her. This was something she was going to have to keep to herself. He would never find out the truth. It would be her life and the life of their child if he ever did. She sat there for a while, just looking around the room. Wondering where her husband was. She had fainted upon finding out his name. She knew he would want to know why, and she had to think up a good reason. Maybe stick to the truth, that her older sister wanted to marry him. And that was the reason. She slowly moved to get out of the bed. As she put a foot on the ground, the door opened. She quickly hid under the covers and pretended to be asleep. She peaked out and saw the masked man staring at the bed, a bemused look on his face. Slowly he reach up, took off the mask, and tossed it on the mantel. He then walked over to his desk, stumbling a couple times. He paused at the desk, slowly slipping a ring off his finger, and placing it down. He then turned and looked back at the bed. The low light of the fire made the scars on his face glow. He slowly moved to the bed, climbing on it, fully clothed. "Wife..." he said with a slurred voice, as he tugged down the sheets and smiled. "Beautiful." Miranda turned and looked at him, a little frightened. He moved over top her naked body, his hand going to her breast, playing with the nipple. The warm feeling in her stomach returned and she opened her mouth to gasp. "There is it." he muttered as he leaned down and kissed her. He loved the little gasps she made. He also loved how she always kissed him back. Her arms went around him to pull him closer. He moaned as he moved himself over her. His hand left her breast, and went to his pants to free himself. Miranda wonder why he still had his clothes on. She wanted to see him. Slowly her hands made their way under his shirt, and up his back. "No," he said harshly as he grabbed her hands and held them over her head. "No." he said again as he kissed her. "Why..." she panted as he broke the kiss. He looked down at her. It was harmless, he knew that. She just wanted to see what she had married. She might be able to look at his face, but he knew she wouldn't want to see what his body looked like. He just shook his head, and moved to spread her legs. He moaned as he looked down at her glistening pussy lips. He let go of her hands, and moved his own to her. He slowly ran his finger tips along her outer lips, looking up he watched her eyes half close and a moan escape her lips. "That's it, beautiful," he muttered as he slipped a finger into her. She gasped and pushed her self against him. She didn't fully understand the feelings that were over taking her, she just knew she wanted more. She wiggled and pushed herself against him, panting heavily. "What do you want, beautiful?" "More..." she panted. "More what?" "I don't know..." she moved up against him again. He chuckled as he removed his fingers. She moaned and arched towards him. He slowly licked her juices off his hand, then moved to put his penis against her. "You want this," he said as he kissed her and pushed himself deep inside her. They both moaned. Her at the feeling of being full and the warm throbbing feeling of him. He loved the tight feel of her pussy milking his penis. Slowly he moved in and out of her. She pushed back at him with each thrust. Before he knew it, his balls tighten and he came deep inside her. "Mira..." he panted before rolling off her and falling asleep. Miranda laid there for a few moments, then sat up and looked at him. He looked so peaceful while asleep. She frowned at him being fully dressed. He didn't want her to see his body. She knew that. But she had to. It couldn't be that bad. His face wasn't that bad. Slowly she put her hand against his chest. He moaned slightly, but stayed asleep. Slowly her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt and she started to undo them. He continued to sleep. She finally got the last one undone and moved to push his shirt off him, when his eyes opened and he stared at her. She just sat there, her one hand against his bare chest. Slowly her let her fingers run over his nipple and smiled at him. He growled slightly as he stared at her. Slowly his eyes closed again and he sighed. "Don't," he muttered. "I just want to see you." "I don't care," he opened his eyes again. "Just to go sleep." His eyes closed. She sat there for a couple moments, looking at him. Then slowly her hand started to move again, running up and down the left side of his chest. He sighed in contentment, but the moment her hand strayed over the the right, his eyes shot open again. "Miranda," he said in a tired slurred voice. "I'm tired, I'm half drunk, I've been forced to take a wife I didn't want. Although your touch feels amazing, I do not want you looking at me. Now lay down and go to sleep or I will beat you." She sighed and sat back, her arms crossing over her breasts, a pout on her face. He turned his head and looked at her. "Sleep," he ordered. Slowly she moved and got under the covers, turning away from him, she rolled to the other side of the bed. She heard his sigh, then his breathing even out. Moments later he was snoring. She laid there for a couple minutes, then drifted off to sleep herself. The next time she awoke, she was alone. She sat up in the bed and looked around the room. The fire out and light was leaking through the closed curtains. She moved to get out of bed, looking for her dress, the only thing she found was a man's dressing gown. She slipped on the silk robe, then found the chamber pot. Once she had relived herself, she started to wander around the room. She moved to the closed curtains, and opened them. She was surprised to find a pair of double doors, leading to a balcony. She stepped out and looked over the back courtyard of the house, then over the roof tops of other houses. Walking around, she touched some over grown plants, and paused as she ran her fingers over a beautiful red rose. Slowly she moved over to a bench and sat down. She breathed in the morning air. She wondered why Eric chose to live in London. She was sure he had a country estate somewhere. He would be able to hide from people more in the country. She hoped he had a country estate. She liked the country better then the city. Her father's country estate raised horses. She loved going for long rides in the countryside. She frowned as she realized that if Eric never left his house, she probably wouldn't be able to ride a horse in the country again. "My lady," a voice said behind her. She turned and gasped as she saw Henry standing there. "I'd come in now." "Why?" she asked as she turned back and looked back at the rose. "He won't like it," was all Henry said. There was history he knew she should know about, but it was not his place to tell her. "Please, my lady, I have breakfast." "Very well," she got up and walked back into the room. There was a little table laid out by the fireplace with two place settings. She heard Henry close and lock the doors, then shut the curtains. "Leave them open." she said. "I'd rather not," Henry said as he continued to closed then. She turned sharply to him. "Am I not the mistress here?" she asked. Henry turned slowly and looked at the girl. He nodded. "Then do as I say and leave the curtains open." "Close them." A voice said from behind her. Henry turned and closed the curtains, leaving them in darkness. Miranda signed and moved to sit down. "Do I have to spend the rest of my life in darkness?" she muttered to herself. "Henry, leave." The Duke ordered. "Yes, my lord," He moved towards the door, pausing he touched Eric's arm. "She's young," was all he said then he walked out. Eric turned and locked the door, then turned to his wife. She was pouting. "My god, Miranda, you are not a child," he said as he sat across from her. "Quit pouting." "Why can't we have the curtains open?" "Because I do not like the day. I am now a creature of the night." "How dramatic," she said as she picked up a piece of bacon. "Dramatic?" Eric said as he grabbed the table and threw it against the wall, food flying everywhere. Miranda let out a scream as she stared at him. He moved close to her, grabbed her arms and pulled her out of the chair, holding her about a foot off the ground, he looked into her eyes. "These are the rules, my dear," he spat. "You do what I say. You do not open any curtains. Do not open any doors. You do not go anywhere unless I say you can. You do not take off my mask or try to see anything I don't want you to see. If you break these rules, you will be sorry. Understand?" She nodded as tears ran down her cheeks. His hands digging into her arms hurt and she was scared he would throw her across the room. 
Eric saw the fear in her eyes and smiled. He need her to fear him, at least a little bit. He dropped her, wincing slightly as she cried out as she hit the floor. She sat on the floor, not moving, his dressing gown pooled around her. She stared at his black boots. Not knowing if she should move or what. She could easily see him kicking her if she moved. "Miranda," he said. She slowly looked up at him. "Do not disobey me." She nodded and lowered her head again. 
Eric turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door. She started to cry. She wanted to go home. She didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be a bloody duchess. She wanted her nanny. Annie would know what to do. Maybe she could go see Annie. She sniffed and looked around. She still didn't know where her dress was, and she didn't care. She only lived a couple houses over. Or used to live. Slowly she got up, wiped her eyes and moved to the door. She opened the door and looked out into the dark hall. A couple oil lamps were lit, just providing enough light so you could see the outline of the stairs and other objects decorating the hall. She walked down the hall, not opening any doors, since she was told not too. She found the stairs and walked down them. She was about to turn, when she saw some light coming from under one of the doors. If there was light in that room, it must mean that Eric was in there. She moved slowly and put her ear against the door. She didn't hear anything. Her curiosity got the best of her, since she wanted to see what was light in this house of darkness. Slowly she turned the door handle, to find it unlocked. Unlocked must mean it's not a private room, she told herself. As if trying to justify doing something she knew was wrong. Like the night she broke in here. She shrugged at the thought and opened the door. She gasped as she walked into a parlor. White sheets were covering the furniture, but there were no heavy curtains. Just decorative balances over each window, and a sheer piece of material, to stop people out side from looking in. The wallpaper was old, and peeling in several places, but it was a beautiful pinkish colour. The carpet was a dark cream. She slowly moved into the room, pausing by a silver tea service which was covered with tarnish. She was sure if it was cleaned up it would be beautiful. This was definitely a room where a duchess would invite important people over for tea. She noticed a set of patio doors next. She walked over and opened them, they lead into a private courtyard. The plants were all over grown, but the flowers were blooming bright. She smiled as she walked over to a little fountain. The water was green and covered with slime. She frowned as she sat on a stone bench. The fountain should have crystal clear water in it with little fish swimming around, that she could feed pieces of bread too. She wondered how she would go about getting this garden beautiful again. She stood up and walked back into the parlor. She pulled a sheet off of one of the sofas, coughing as the dust settled. She sat down a velvet sofa, slowly she ran her hands over the soft material. She could imagine herself sitting here, with a good book, a nice fire in the white marble fireplace. It would be a perfect room to spend time in. She frowned as she looked up and saw Henry standing in the doorway. He made a motion that she should leave the room. She shook her head and continued to look around. "My lady," he said as he approached her. "You do not want him to find you in here." "Why? This room wasn't locked. It's bright in here. He likes darkness. Why would he ever come in here?" "He wouldn't," the servant said. "This was his mothers sitting room. Now, please, if you want a place to sit, I will take you to the library." "I don't want to go to the library. It's dark in there." She turned away. She was a Duchess now. He was a servant. She would answer to the Duke, but not to a servant. Henry sighed. He had no idea what to tell this girl to get her to leave this room. If Eric found her in here, he would go nuts. He already knew he'd have a hell of a time cleaning up the mess in the bedroom. "At least let me show you the rest of the house, my lady," he said gently. Miranda turned her head and nodded. "Very well." She got up and looked around the beautiful room once more, then followed Henry out in the dark hall. Once the door was closed, she shivered. "Are there any other servants?" She asked. "No, my lady, just me." He said as he lead her down the hall. Pointing out rooms, with the doors closed so she couldn't see in them. "Why only you?" she asked. "There should be at least a couple of maids in a house this side, footman, a cook, a housekeeper and butler. I assume you are the butler. Where are the rest?" Henry stopped and looked at her. "And a gardener, that garden is in terrible shape. We need a gardener right away. And a maid. This place is dirty. All the rooms should be opened up and cleaned." "That is not going to happen," Henry told her. "The Duke doesn't like many people around." "Well, I need a maid. I can't expect to do those duties. I am a duchess, am I not?" "Yes, my lady. Perhaps you should talk to the Duke about that." "Fine, I will. Where is he?" "Probably in the library, my lady," Henry pointed towards the doors. Miranda nodded, turned and walked into the library. "Eric?" she called out as she walked into the dark room. "Are you in here?" "What do you want?" a voice came out of the darkness. "To talk to you?" she said as she moved deeper into the room. "Maybe some light?" "Take off the dressing gown." The voice said. She signed and turned towards where she thought he was. "I'm naked under it. My clothes are missing." She said to the shadows. She was getting rather nervous. "Can we open the curtains?" "No." She shivered as she moved her back against the doors. "Please Eric..." she whimpered. "I don't like the dark." The sound of a match lighting filled the room, then a glow from a lamp on the other side of the room. She saw him over there, sitting in a chair, just staring at her. She let out her breath and walked over to him. He just sat there watching her as she walked towards him. His lip twitched. He silently cursed the King for forcing her on him. But she was beautiful. She stopped just before him. He moved his hand, motioning for her to remove the dressing gown. She undid the belted sash, then slowly let it drop off her shoulders, he sucked in his breath. "I need a maid," she said softly as she let the robe slip down further, showing him the top of her breasts. "And other servants." "Really?" he stared at her breasts. "And a housekeeper, a cook some footmen..." "That's quite a list," he glanced up at her. "Anything else?" "The ladies parlor across the hall, I'd like..." before she could finish he jumped up and slapped her. She fell hitting her face against a table. "What did I tell you this morning!" He yelled at her. She whimpered and started to cry as she held her hand over her face. "Do I have to lock you up?" "The door was open..." she sobbed. "It wasn't dark in there. I don't like the dark." "I don't care, you little whore!" He yelled as he kicked the table she was leaning on away. She fell on her side, then curled up in a little ball. He stood there panting, looking at the scared girl at his feet. He took some deep breaths to calm himself down before he hurt her. He looked up at the ceiling, shook his head, then knelt down, and pulled the girl against him. "Stop crying, little one," he said as he sat down on the floor, pulling her into his lap. Her arms went around him and she hid her face in his neck as she cried. "Don't kill me..." His heart broke. "Baby, I'm not going to kill you," he stroked her back. "You are driving me crazy, you know that?" He moved his hand to lift up her head. He frowned at the red mark on her cheek. He hated violence against women, and he had hit her twice. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry, I hit you," he said gently. "That room as my mothers. It's hard..." "What happened to your mother?" she asked as she sniffed. He frowned and brushed the tears from her cheeks. "She died. After she saw me, after my accident. She was in such a rage..." Miranda lifted her hand and touched the part of his face that wasn't hidden under the mask. He smiled down at her. She leaned up and kissed him, then settled back in his lap. "She fell into a deep depression. Letting no one near her. Not even my father. One night she fell down the stairs. My father found her. He picked up her body and walked out of the house." Eric sighed. "Both their bodies were found the Thames about a week later." "I'm sorry," she whispered. "It was a long time ago." Eric blinked back tears. He blamed himself for his parents death. If he didn't look the way he looked, his parents would still be alive. Miranda felt sick hearing about his parents. Guilt swept over her. He lost both his parents. He had locked up their rooms to hide from the painful memories. She just came along, disregarded his warnings, and walked into his mother's parlor, opening those painful feelings again. She felt horrible.