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.
