A/N: This is a few hours early but I am sure none of you are complaining! I want to thank my very good friend N.S.L. Jewelles for all of her help with this story, and her undying support with everything that I write, and her words of encouragement, thank you, they mean more to me than you could ever know! If you all haven't read her stories I highly recommend them! Now, onto the story...!

Chapter Three: Lord Raoul de Chagny and Erik

Stiffling a yawn with the back of her hand, Christine wearily made her way down the chilly corrider. She had not slept in two days since finding the broken warrior. The first night her mother had asked her to clean the wine and after that she had had other things that had to be done. That morning she had arrived back at the manor a mere hour before dawn broke, and Katerina had kept her on her toes all day. And she could not sleep tonight for she was to go and make sure that the stranger was alright.

It seemed strange that this man was depending on her, when no one had ever depended on her, ever, since her father and brother had died. Katerina did not depend on her, although Christine wondered what would happen to the woman if she ever had to do anything for herself. Meg had noticed the weariness in her friends eyes and though she said nothing, she worried.

Entering the kitchens Christine saw that several of the young women who worked there were peering out the kitchen door, staring into the great hall with obvious interest, whispering among themselves. The older women, who did most of the cooking, were shaking their heads at the young girls and muttering under their breath. One girl happened to look behind her and see Christine. Hazel eyes dancing in mirth, the slim figured girl rushed towards Christine, a happy smile on her face. She grabbed Christine's hand and began to tug her towards the door.

"Christine! Come look!" Jammes squealed.

She noticed that Meg was one of them crowded by the door and when she saw her she hurriedly gestured for Christine to hurry up. The women all pushed Christine in front of them so she had a better look into the great hall. Supper had just been lain out and the smells had Christine's stomach moaning for a taste. Her eyes roamed over the table, seeing both Katerina and Charles but knew quickly that it was neither of the two that the girls were looking at. It was the young man sitting beside Charles that had everyones attention.

God had surely been in a good mood when he had decided to create this man. Hair the color of spun gold, and eyes like the clearest lake were only a few of the many attributes that he clearly possesed. He was not nearly as big as the man in the cottage, but he was still broad of shoulder and made an impressive figure even sitting. Obvious strength lay hidden beneath a dark, forest green tunic. A large, strong hand was wrapped around a goblet of wine, and he would occassionally bring it up to his lips for a taste.

Christine glanced between this man and Charles, seeing a striking resemblance.

"Who is he?" she murmured, fascinated. She knew not why she was unable to look away.

"Lord Raoul de Chagny," Meg murmured, meeting her friend's gaze. Christine turned back to her task of studying the man. She had heard of the Chagny's. They were one of the wealthier families up north, very influential, and very powerful. Charles, obviously, was the true Lord of Chagny and Raoul obviously the son and heir. The men of this family were known to be noble and sincere, and willing to fight for whatever rightfully belonged to them. According to her father, their lands were more than any man could possibly care for but the center of many disputes. The Chagny's were known also for war, because others saw fit to try and take what they had from them. No one had succeeded as of yet.

But what was such a powerful family doing here? How did Charles know Katerina? What did her mother hope to gain by warming the bed of such a powerful man? What business would cause them to arrive unexpected?

Shaking her head Christine told herself not to interfere with Katerina's business. It would only lead to trouble that she could ill afford to get herself into.

xXx

"Christine, are you serious?"

She could not quite meet the gaze of Meg, who looked incredilous. It was already a few hours past dusk and Christine was beginning to worry for the man in the cottage. With the rain still pounding the fire she left had to of long been put out. But Meg did not want to hear that she was going out again, unknowing why the young woman would wish to do such a thing. Christine went to her friend and took her hands.

"Meg, have I ever done anything that would hurt me?" she asked. Meg nodded.

"You always do foolish-"

"Perhaps that was not phrased right," Christine muttered, causing Meg to giggle. Christine smiled.

"I have a reason for doing this," she said, hoping her friend would understand.

"Why can you not share this reason with me?" Meg demanded.

"Because I am not sure of the reason myself," Christine admitted. The blonde woman looked at the other with concern. From the time they were children Christine had always been rash in her decisions. Often times than not her father or brother had to get her out of a situation that she shouldn't be in. But that was because Christine was always so innocent. She had never liked to see the bad in people. That was until Katerina arrived.

"Christine, I am worried about you," Meg said truthfully. "It is far too dark for you to be wandering about, and in this rain you are likely to get sick."

"I know, Meg, and I will be careful," she promised. It meant a lot to Christine the fact that Meg worried about her so much, it meant there was someone out there that cared for her.

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you."

xXxXx

Wiping the sweat and remnants of blood off of the man's chest Christine's roamed over his face again. When she had arrived the fire was out and she quickly made another one. He still had not made a sound and she was beginning to worry for his fate. There was a slight frown that creased his brows that had not been there the night prior and she wondered what troubled dreams he was experiencing.

Every man is comforted by an angelic voice, Christine. Her father's voice entered her mind and she smiled. Whenever one of his men had been wounded he had called on her to sing them something to take their mind from the pain. It had always seemed to work in the past. Taking his large, calloused hand into her two much smaller ones she began to softly sing, the rain humming all around them.

Gazing at this ravaged warrior Christine began to wonder what his name was. She wondered if his name suited him. What color eyes did he have? What did his voice sound like? These were just a few questions she had about this man. One that she was very interested to know was the reason why he had been left for dead on the shore.

Focusing once more on her singing she realized that he was stirring. His lids strained against the weight of his weariness and he shifted, groaning in immense pain. Christine continued singing, hoping it was bringing him back to conciousness. He shifted again and Christine held his hand just a little tighter, wanting him to know that someone was there.

"Damn you, Lucifer!"

Christine watched his mouth, mesmerized by the deep, resonating sound that was his voice. One moment she was on her knees beside him and the next he had pulled on her hand, effectively causing her to land on his chest. She gasped, and he growled, one hand going to her throat. Frightened, she tried to pull away, but it only left her gasping for breath. Where had he found this strength when his body was still broken and bleeding?

"Please...let go!" Christine gasped, feeling faint. The man turned so she was suddenly pinned to the floor, his much larger, naked frame towering over her, most of it stitched and covered with bandages.

"I'll make you pay for what you did to me!"

Christine knew he thought she was someone else but her heart was beating frantically in her chest from fear. His broad shoulders blocked out the light from the fire and she stared up at his ravaged face, wondering if he meant to kill her. Christine wanted to scream or cry but knew that would get her no where. So she pounded on his chest, knowing he was in so much pain that if she added to it he might open his eyes and realize she wasn't who he thought she was.

"Christ!"

Green eyes snapped open to clash with blue and Christine stilled, suddenly feeling like she was trapped in the gaze of a predator. Many different emotions were swimming in the depths of this man's eyes as he looked at her, his gaze wandering over her face very slowly. The grip on her neck lessened but he didn't move, simply stared down at her. Her breasts rose and fell as she tried to regain her breath, continuing to look at the man who obviously could kill her if he so wished.

"Who the hell are you?"

His voice was gruff and angry. Christine swallowed nervously, not liking the position she was in. She did not want to be intimidated by this man, especially when she was the only reason he was still alive! Lifting her chin and setting her shoulders Christine stared at him evenly.

"I refuse to answer a single question until you get off of me," she said firmly. He seemed to realize their position and glanced down between them, for a moment giving Christine a glimpse of far more than she wished to see. His eyes settled on places that made her a woman and Christine flushed, embarrassed.

"Perhaps I know who you are," he murmured, his suggestion in his voice. Christine gasped in outrage and struggled beneath him-only to find such a struggle futile. For someone who was injured he seemed far too strong. Managing to glance up at him again she found that he was once more studying her intently, as if trying to figure out a great riddle. She squirmed in embarrassment at such a look-not since her mother had been in her life had she ever had anyone truly look at her. Katerina saw fit to make sure that she was never noticed.

Meeting his gaze evenly, and not knowing where she found the courage, she didn't back down. The corner of his mouth turned up slightly at the corner before he shifted onto his back. Christine stood and straightened her dress indignantly. When she was calm she turned to him once more. The firelight played across his exposed skin, everything lying in front of her in all of his glory. She blushed again and looked at his face. At the moment he was not paying any attention to her. Something she was not unused to.

xXx

Erik glanced down the length of his body, seeing all of the bandages that covered him. Everything hurt and ached, and he could see blood staining many of the cloths wrapped around him. His brother had truly wanted to make sure that he would never wake up again. The bastard. It was a miracle to Erik that he was even alive. He had truly thought his end had come.

"I suggest you do not move, you are badly injured."

Erik's gaze left the study of his body to scrutinize the woman in front of him. He had heard singing in his nightmares, beautiful, angelic singing, that had drawn him out of the darkness. Perhaps this was the woman who possessed such a voice? She was a hell of a sight to wake up to, though. Full, high breasts filled the bodice of her dress to compliment her rounded hips. She had pale skin, the color of the moon when it was full, milky and perfect. Brown, luxurious ringlets fell down her back and shoulders and framed a heart shaped face with large, dark blue eyes. Her mouth was full and the same tint as a rose, slightly parted and moist. Having gone so long without a woman Erik felt his body stir in desire.

"You tended my wounds?" he asked. She nodded, not looking anywhere but directly in his eyes. He noticed the virginal blush that stained her cheeks and tops of her breasts and he hid his smirk. Obviously the girl had never seen a naked man before.

"What is your name?" Erik asked, curious. Whoever she was she was not a country trollop. Her gown was too exquisite for such a status. She crossed her arms over her chest. He was curious to know how she had managed to get him from the beach to this room, but decided that he should take this one question at a time, she seemed shy enough as it was.

"C-Christine," she whispered, suddenly feeling very insecure about herself. This man made her feel so small and weak, and his gaze made her extremely aware of her lack of beauty. His voice had a hypnotic timber, making her unable to do anything but answer his questions.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. Did the talk of he and his brother spread this far south? He prayed not. He needed to recover fully without anyone knowing of his whereabouts. Christine frowned at him.

"Should I?"

"I suppose not...my name is Erik."

Christine smiled and looked away from him.

"What?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Nothing...it just fits you..."

There was a few moments of awkward silence before it was broken by Christine.

"Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"

The thought of food had Erik's stomach growling. He nodded and watched helplessly as she went about preparing everything for him, unable to move. He had never been this badly wounded, and it simply showed that Erik had taught his brother well.

When everything was prepared Christine gently helped him to eat. Erik did not like feeling this vulnerable, but Christine said nothing and it helped him relax a little. When he was finished she pulled a fur over him. Erik slipped in and out of conciousness, pinning Christine to the ground had exhausted him. The entire time he was aware of Christine moving about the small room, and he found the sounds slightly comforting. He woke up again briefly before dawn only to find that he was alone.

And the entire time he had not been wearing his mask.

xXx

Silently Christine made her way into the castle. Since the first time she had seen him Christine found that her thoughts were full of Erik. Obviously he had been nervous to find out if she knew him. But why? Did he hope to hide from whoever it was that had injured him? Was he plotting some sort of revenge? She was frightened of him, but it had little to do with what he looked like. The fact that he had found the strength to almost kill her even when he was that badly injured frightened her. It showed that he had an iron will, and it would not be good to do anything to provoke that hidden strength, or it would mean her life.

Something she should be frightened of.