Beast Of Italy

Chapter Twenty Six

Burn marks crawled across the length of his body, and while they were not as bad as the ones on his face, they were still a constant reminder of the torture he had endured in the fire.

Julius barely looked at his burns, and when he did pass by a mirror, he barely glanced at them. Today however, he stood before the mirror, his eyes scanning the repulsiveness of his own body. It was nothing like Corrine's; it wasn't flawless and without blemish, it wasn't smooth to the touch, and it certainly wasn't pleasant to look at. Yet, Corrine seemed to find pleasure in his body -at least that was what he thought when she crawled into his bed every night. The only problem was, he couldn't find pleasure in hers.

A frown settled on his face. Why couldn't he love her? Or at least be appreciative of her willingness to be with him in spite of his flaws? Instead, he felt like a caged animal, trapped in a marriage with a woman he couldn't love, no matter how hard he tried.

"You should put this on." Corrine's sudden appearance behind him, startled him. Settling a robe on his shoulders, she pulled it over him until he was completely covered. "You could catch a cold."

"Perhaps." He breathed, turning around to face her. She had only just woken up from sleep, but she stood flawless before him, clad in a white night dress. "Or you find my scars repulsive."He watched her face for a reaction, anything to convince him he was wrong.

"They are difficult to look at." She nodded, turning from him and making her way to the bed, where she picked up her night coat and wrapped it around herself. "I should leave you to get dressed. I shall be in my bedchamber getting dressed as well, and then I shall have the cook prepare breakfast." It was another thing Julius didn't remember having; servants. But Corrine had insisted they always had them, and Ira was one of them.

Julius felt ashamed of thinking of Ira, but she was all he could think, even if Corrine told him she had been a servant who had tried to climb up the social ladder by luring him into her bed. Corrine didn't speak much about his affair with Ira, but Julius couldn't forget her. He remembered every moment he spent with her in his arms, his lips locked with hers. They were images his mind created, but Julius was starting to learn not to trust the imagination of his mind.

Just then, a distinct sound of approaching horses drifted to him. He made his way to the window and pushed the curtains aside.

A black coach stopped before the building. Leaning forward in curiosity, Julius wondered who it might be. He had seen Corrine's father visit his home severally, but he certainly had never seen this particular carriage.

The coachman jumped down the front and made his way to the back. Julius watched as he pulled the door open and extended his hand. A hand, covered in black gloves, reached out and took hold of the coachman's hand. Instinctively, Julius leaned forward, his face pressing against the window pane.

A woman emerged from the carriage, clad in a long, purple traveling coat. A black hat was seated atop her head, keeping her face hidden.

Julius squinted, curious to find out who she was, when the coachman reached into the coach again, and a hand -this time devoid of gloves- reached out and took his hand. As Julius pressed his body further against the window, she climbed down the carriage, arms clinging to something.

For a long while, Julius stood there staring at her. She was like a vision from his dreams, unbelievably present in his estate. He tried to move, but he couldn't, he couldn't do anything but stand there and stare down at her.

She lifted her head up then, their eyes immediately locking.

Breathless, he pressed his palm to the glass. "Ira." He whispered.