Anonymous Composer the new wonder of classical!

The young woman who has been composing under a pseudo name [Kaya Hart] has been, indeed, a success. Her music is crawling across the easy hills of France. Earning him much money, her producer finds himself involved with the young Mademoiselle! Although he will not reveal who she is, he can guarantee they are one loving team.

"What's that?" Philippa asked Erik as she watched him angrily ball up the paper.

"The morning news," he said, attempting not to grind his teeth with his answer. Erik then proceeded to throw it into the hearth by his sofa, an exasperated sigh emitting from his lips.

"You seem upset, did they say something about you in the paper?" She asked him quietly.

"No," Erik replied with the shake of his head.

"Here, why don't you take off your mask and rest in my lap for a while," she said calmly stroking his hair.

They'd learned, together as a couple, that his face was nothing she hadn't seen in her years. Also, the two found out that she was a clam woman, one who liked to keep Erik calm as well. She did go out frequently, but she always returned to Erik. And Erik discovered that he liked to be held in that infantile way, his head in her lap. He could easily reach up and kiss her, and if there was anything at all about Philippa, she was a great kisser.

Erik thought her better and more pleasing at it than Haya, even, but that didn't mean he felt more. No, he felt far more with Haya. There was just nothing he could do, so he was forced to accept that he would have to be with Philippa. There was enough to facet a healthy relationship, and with that news that morning... There was no reason he shouldn't go with Philippa.

"You know, we should go for a walk," the blonde suddenly said.

Erik lifted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"A walk, Erik. I want to take a walk around the park... Where we met," she indicated with a blush.

It was then Erik realized it had been a whole year since they had met.

"It's been a year... Since we met, huh?" He said and gently pressed one of his hands to her cheek.

Philippa's eyes watered with joy as she reached in and hugged Erik delicately. Her arms wrapped around his torso, and she squeezed him as though he was the only man in her life that could ever make her so happy.

She pressed her lips against his, and soon enough they were engrossed in one-another. Her lips coaxed his until she led him into taking over, eventually allowing him to slip his tongue through her parted lips.

"Let's go to the park now," Philippa said with the break of their lips, her soft breaths caressing Erik's wanting lips.

"Alright."

Erik got up with her and placed her thin cloak upon her shoulders, taking her hand with his just after. They easily got a carriage to the park and were eventually walking about the grounds.

It was a beautiful day, and even the slight chill was nothing compared to the grace of the sky and the sun. They both shone joyously as though it were a perfect summer day in June. The clouds were sparse, and the children running around gave the air a light feel.

"Oh my, Erik look," Philippa said suddenly in disgust. She was trying to point to the man and woman walking the park.

The man was of obvious European decent, but the girl had blatantly come from the continent down south of Europe... And what was Philippa's problem with that?

"What?" Erik asked her wearily.

"The man! He's with a woman of color!" She exclaimed as though that was the largest sin she could think of.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked Philippa sharply.

"Yes, you've murdered, but have you courted outside of your rightful race?" She asked him with a creased brow.

"No, but race has positively little to do with love."

"The hell it does!" Philippa argued suddenly, her face red, and not the good red either.

She seemed to be drawing a scene as a few people looked around at them, but they soon enough minded their own business.

"I knew you not to be bigoted, Philippa."

Erik looked over at the woman and watched as her face became clear, approaching the couple making it so. Her hazel eyes and beautiful figure looked just as astonishing as that day when she left a year ago. She never did write to him.

"Haya."

It was just above a whisper as Philippa pulled him away from the scene taking the path that would lead ten away. Yet, Erik stared, holding Philippa unwillingly to watch what was about to ensue between the couple.

In the faraway distance, Erik watched as the man fell to a single knee and pulled a velvet box from his pocket. People cooed and sneered alike, varying reactions to the beautiful scene occurring. The woman's hands covered her mouth, and she was obviously smiling at the man. He held her hands and declared his love, telling her that he did love her and wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side. Luckily no one but Erik truly recognized them.

As if torturing him, Erik's ears allowed him to hear a very happy, very ecstatic 'yes' emit from the beautiful woman.

It was better that way.

Erik turned around and led Philippa away from the scene. He didn't even hear a word of her complaining about the fact that they would have children together, and how they would be a sin to the world. How the boy should be disinherited for committing such an awful crime.

Erik couldn't hear anything because the sound burned his ears. He only heard a single word and that was enough to numb him from head to toe, his poor heart aching inside of his already frail chest.

Eventually, the couple returned to Erik's home. By then Philippa had ceased to complain about Haya and her marriage, and she had gone on to wonder when she and Erik would get married.

"But seriously, Erik. If they can get married, surely the two of us can marry, right? Do you... Want to marry me?" She asked with uncertainty.

Erik, who hadn't really been listening, looked up from his coffee and asked, "What was that?"

Philippa giggled.

Was what had he said that amusing?

"Do you want to marry me sometime? I feel like you don't oddly enough," she told him hesitantly.

The softness to her had returned, and as she didn't talk about something that upset her, she was the same Philippa he met in the park a year ago.

"I do," he replied to her assuredly. "But we have both awaited this amount of time, I am sure that a few more weeks or perhaps months shan't hurt us."

Philippa nodded as she wondered what had him so unfocused.

"Is everything alright? You seem a little off today, Erik. There must be something that I know not of, even if I have asked you already today."

She came up behind him and began to rub his shoulders, Erik closing his eyes as she kneaded the skin and muscles.

"There is a lot on my mind, there always is. I guess I may still be trying to comprehend a beautiful woman such as yourself has chosen me, of all... Men," Erik said, stopping himself from saying monsters.

"Of course I chose you, Erik. I love you."

It was the first time either one of them had said that small sentence, and Erik hadn't said it to anyone at all since Haya before she was taken to be put to death. That seemed like so long ago, when it was truly only a year and two moths. How slowly time can go by when one is engulfed in someone who cannot relive the pain. And besides the time he had told Haya he loved her, he had only ever said it once before that. Erik didn't know whether to be blessed at the fact that he had only said those words twice... Or to feel an immense amount of pity for himself.

"I love you, Philippa."

She smiled brightly behind him and brought herself around his chair, placing her tall and slender body on top of his lap. And then she kissed him. Philippa kissed Erik as happily as she could, trying to prove her love for him as he tried to reciprocate the immensely committing feeling.

Erik held her waist in his hands and just admired the feeling of a body pressed against his. His calloused hands could feel her thin and corseted waist between them, and it felt like he had an inflating and deflating sac between them. The air that filled her lungs proved her life and her reality. With her arms surrounding his neck, he could feel on his own breathing chest her breasts pressed against him. They felt odd, pressing into him, but he wouldn't have it any other way. The feeling of a woman in his arms more than he cared to describe. Her hands in his hair felt like someone was pulling at the skin of it, making him receive shivers down his spine. Then there was the pressing of their lips, and that was the best feeling of them all. They felt soft and wet at the same time, and being pressed together gave him a good feeling.

He simply felt bad that he yearned for Hazel eyes to open up to his instead of green.