The voice carried, and for a brief time, he wondered if he'd wished it into being. No, he wasn't yet that far gone. The question was rather whether he was far gone enough to answer her unspoken question. Will you come to me? Will you show yourself? Will you answer my summons?
He slid a gloved palm over his hair, straightened in his chair, and stood. Erik told himself he would set his glass on the mantle above the library fireplace. When he stood, he reminded himself that this and only this was all he'd promised himself to do.
But then, in the darkness, he turned his head toward the library doors. The one he'd used to enter was only just slightly ajar. He wondered how close she was, how much she could hear...
It didn't matter what she heard. He pushed the question out of his unorganized clutter of thoughts. He shouldn't go to her. It would make the resistance all that much harder to maintain. He wanted to, though. He wanted very much to see her. He'd seen so little of her.
And perhaps it was a small thing, to answer her this one time. Perhaps he could try, just this once, to see if he could lay eyes on her without...
...without that consuming need.
A wryness slid over the deeper dread. He was fooling himself, or making a good effort at it. She terrified him. He terrified himself over her. That was enough to push him away from the fireplace. That was enough for him to slide through the open library door. He stood down the hallway from her, saying nothing yet, still gathering himself to look over at her.
He had been too long a creature of poise and drama. Even now with his thoughts and emotions whirling, he kept tight control of his external demeanor, wrapping dignity and power around him like an armor.
When he finally turned and looked her way, his expression was practiced stone.