Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

Callista dreamt of sky blue irises, light and clear. His mouth was curved into a smile, both teasingly playful and radiated an abundance of warmth, at the same time. His hair was yellow and they golden gleamed under the sun. His boyish face shone with pure merriment, his pink cheeks still held some of his baby fat. Callista knew who he was. He was him at thirteen, during his last visit at her home before he would enroll into Eton as boys in his age would. His laughter echoed around her like a detached sound, sounding faraway and out of grasp.

Slowly opening her eyes from the dream, Callista blinked away the dull pain burning from her heart. That boy was long gone, lost during the intervening years of adolescence. Instead, he was replaced by a man in his stead: an impossible and unfeeling, womanizing scoundrel. His eyes were the color of frozen sea, harsh and unwelcoming. His lips were forever curved into a perpetual frown whenever they met. She often wondered if he was the same boy she once knew, for the Raphael she knew had changed, drastically.

The light of day were illuminating the cavernous room Felix had ushered her into last night. Callista stretched her body like a lazy feline, reluctant to leave such a sumptuous bed. The four poster bed's poles were like huge pillars, resembling thick totem poles she once read about. From metal railings hung dark satin curtain, a shade of burgundy and embroidered with gold stitching. The mattress was soft but with just the right amount of springiness. The coverlet was velvet and trimmed with fur. It was a bed suited for a medieval King.

Callie buried her face into the pillow and inhaled the scent that clung onto the fabric. It smelled faintly of something masculine and of fragrant evergreens. Her fingers dove in the luxurious velvet quilt and ran her fingertips above the soft fur border. The faded scent seemed to linger everywhere. In the back of her mind, she knew whom this room belonged to. It was his. He did not come home last night and since every other room in the house was sadly unused and therefore, unfit to accommodate a guest, she had been escorted into Thorbrooke's instead.

Callie did a long sweeping look of the room as she lay under the covers. For such a complicated man, his room was sparsely unfurnished. The bed sat in the middle with a large wardrobe standing at the left. There was also a table, a dresser and a rug, which covered the floor in front of the bed. Other than the absolute essentials, there was nothing more left to see. However, Callie did observe the room to contain a large collection of candles: placed on almost every available surface. There were even tall wrought iron candle holders, standing on either side of the bed. There was a couple candelabras on the dresser, and a few stood on table.

Another memory flitted past her mind. Callie remembered that it was Christmas Eve, and two children were sitting by the fireplace, illuminated by the flickering of the fire from the hearth. The boy looked into the fire and whispered to the pig tailed little girl, "Are you afraid of the dark, Callie?"

A woeful smile touched Callie's lips as she swung her legs and got out of bed. Thorbrooke was turning six and twenty in the winter. He could not possibly be wary of the dark anymore. With the thought of her fiancé in mind, she headed for the adjoining wash room. Callie washed her face and made use of one of towers, folded neatly on the shelf.

After she did a little exploring in his bathroom: smelling his bath salts and admiring a piece of artwork hung across the sink, Callie stepped out of the bathroom only to stop short - the door of the room stood ajar and there was a man, silently going through the wardrobe. Stunned, Callie was rooted on the spot. She hastily tied her dressing gown secure.

She stood watch as the man closed the wardrobe door with care, as if he was careful not to produce nary a sound – only to turn around and saw her. His eyes widened and for a moment, she saw shock darted past his face. His mouth curled, forming a frown. His blue eyes turned icy.

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