FT Chapter 4

Stockholm

March 12th

"Welcome to Stockholm, Madame! I'm Elias Von Berglund, Ambassador Hamilton's attaché." He took off his bowler and gave them an exaggerated bow. Their by-proxy host looked barely out of his teens, glacially handsome and dressed like a fashion plate.

Meg smiled wearily in return. "Thank you for meeting us here Monsieur Von Berglund. Let me introduce my husband, Monsieur De Laval."

Von Berglund took his first full look at Erik, his pale eyes going straight to his mask then quickly back to Meg. "Of course. Welcome to both of you. Ambassador Hamilton has honored me with the task of making certain that your visit is a pleasant one. Anything you require, do ask. Please follow me."

Meg and Erik exchanged tired smiles as they followed their appointed host to the carriage. Inside were plush velvet seats and a heavy silk and ermine lined blanket. A large satin lined wicker basket with bottle of wine, cheese, and sweets was also waiting.

Once their luggage was loaded, they made a fast exit out of the city. Von Berglund sat across from them, his eyes skipping around Erik as he cleared his throat.

"I trust your crossing was comfortable," he asked, still looking at Meg.

"Yes," Meg said. "Tell us more about where we'll be staying."

"It's the Ambassador's cottage. He and Mrs. Hamilton are usually there during the Spring and Summer. It's very private and quiet. I'm sure you will both be comfortable there." Again his eyes strayed briefly to Erik's face before jumping back to Meg.

"How much longer will it be before we get there," Erik asked, forcing a smile.

"We should arrive within the hour, Monsieur." He nodded his head at Erik and quickly looked away.

Underneath the warmth of the heavy blanket, he felt Meg squeeze his hand. They shared a smirk and settled into an awkward silence as they traveled deeper into the dark countryside.

She saw him before he saw her. Hurrying through a wall of other guests, she met Max at the grand doors of the crowded ballroom.

"I'm so glad you're here." She discreetly took hold of his hand, glancing over her shoulder to make certain they weren't being watched too closely.

He smiled down at her. "I didn't want you to die of boredom with this crowd. So I thought I'd come an rescue you. Did I miss your performance?"

"I forgive you," She laughed, leaning into him. "Is there somewhere else we can go?"

"We'll find someplace. Come." He quickly led her out, past small patches of guests, down another hallway until they found an empty room. A fire in the large stone fireplace was the only light in the dark room. Max quickly shut the doors behind them.

They met in an embrace, their bodies welded together, her head on his shoulder. Being held by him was a relief. The last few weeks had been more than she ever expected. With every conversation, a layer was peeled away, giving her more of him. Experiencing his mind, his kindness and his creativity made her want him even more.

"I have missed you," he breathed into her ear.

"Two days here has been two days too long," she sighed. "All I wanted to do was get back to the city, and to you."

Gazing down at her, he grazed her cheek with a single gentle finger tip. "And all I wanted was to get the hell out of Stockholm and be here."

Taking his hands, she led him to the chaise in front of the fire. "I have some news."

"You're remaining in Stockholm indefinitely," he asked, smile hopeful.

"Perhaps I will after this. I've been invited to sing for the Crown Prince and Princess at their gala."

"I'm not surprised that you were invited. I should have grabbed a bottle of champagne on our way out of the ballroom for us to celebrate."

"Being alone with you is good enough for me," she said.

All the weeks they had spent alone talking about art, music, and everything under the sun, and he still had not kissed her. She knew that he wanted to as much as she wanted him to. At that moment, looking at him, being so close, she felt as hot as the fire in front of them. She felt the warm weight of him as he leaned into her. The path to each other was short, and quick as their lips finally met. The kiss was at first soft, and then deliciously hard. They lost sense of time and everything else in that kiss.

He broke away, smiling. "That was worth waiting for."

"Take me back to Stockholm with you," she begged.

"We don't have to go that far, actually," he said, stroking her face. "I'm staying at my family's country house ten minutes away. So, if you want to make your excuses to Baroness Von Hault, my carriage is right outside."

Capturing his face in her hands, she kissed him again, then hurried to the door. "Wait for me."

Meg rolled onto her back, looking up at the blue velvet bed curtains overhead. From the fur and silk lined blanket, to the finely woven sheets and down pillows, everything about that bed was ridiculously opulent. When they finally arrived late the night before, they both couldn't help but roll their eyes at the "cottage". It was two floors and 20 rooms housed inside a grand 18th century French style shell. Von Berglund gave them a blessedly brief tour before leaving. He promised them privacy and unobtrusive service. The housekeeper and caretaker would come early before they woke to deliver their meals and firewood. Any requests could be left in writing on the desk in the Ambassador's study. The Ambassador's carriage and driver were also on the grounds, ready to take them wherever they wished to go. It was the perfect arrangement, as far as Erik was concerned.

Turning her face to her left, she gazed across the bed at his back. She knew that he would likely sleep for hours. The closer their ship got to Sweden, the more unsettled he has become. She would often wake to find him standing at the portal window of their stateroom, staring out at the water. She hoped that once they were settled into the "cottage" that he would finally relax.

Slipping out of the bed, she wrapped herself in her green velvet bed robe, and padded into the marble and white tiled bathroom to clean up. As she brushed out her hair, she found herself staring lustfully at the oversized marble tub behind her. It would have been heaven to be able to do nothing but soak in a warm bath all day. But, time was unfortunately all too short, and there was more to do. As she stepped into the still dark bedroom to change, she watched Erik sleep. A part of her wished that she had nothing else to do, but to slip back into bed, fit her body against his, and soak up his warmth. But, duty and privilege were unfortunately calling her away. She picked up her dancing slippers and went downstairs on her bare feet.

Christine turned her head and was met by the stinging slap of daylight. Groaning, she buried her face back into the mountain of down pillows. As she hid out in the warm shelter, her thoughts went back to the night. It was everything she had wanted since the moment they met coupled with a bit if the unexpected. It led her to turn onto her back, and pull her left wrist out from underneath the heavy velvet coverlet. The shock of red satin ribbon still knotted around her wrist brought a smile to her lips.

Yes, so unexpected.

She could feel her face turning as red as the ribbon at the memory of what led them to that moment. They had shed most of their clothes in the front hall, then kissed their way upstairs. By the time they arrived in his bedroom all that was left was the red satin ribbon wound through the various curls and braids in her hair. Then it all came unwound, and so did she.

The sound of the opening door, sent her up onto her elbows. He craned his head around the door, his smile as wide as hers. "Good morning."

She crooked her finger, beckoning him over. Falling into bed beside her, he pulled her into him. There were more gentle kisses and long looks exchanged. As she combed her fingers through his hair, she found herself at a loss for words. Embarrassed and overcome, she ducked her head into his chest.

"What is it," he whispered, caressing her back.

She finally raised her head. "I don't know. I just feel so happy."

"That's good, isn't it," he asked, his voice gentle. "Us together. Happy."

She nodded. "Yes. It's just that I think I've forgotten what that felt like. I don't know why, but it scared me a little."

His face turned a shade serious. "Why?"

She gave out a weighted sigh. "You know what my life has been like. Nothing besides music has turned out as I hoped. Being here with you reminded me of the very brief moments when I was happy. It also reminded me of how quickly the happiness ended."

"No," he crooned, taking her face in his hands. "It's not always going to be that way Christine. Things are different here than they were for you in France. I'm not your husband. I would never force you to give up what you loved. All I want is to make you happy."

"I know that, but there is something else. We've never really talked about the future. You may feel differently in a year. You may want to be with someone who is fully able to be yours. Someone whose life isn't as complicated as mine."

"No," he said, emphatically. "Christine, I don't care about being married. I never cared about marrying some rich virgin in a white dress, or having a house full of children. Until I met you I never really thought I'd ever fall in love with anyone. But, here we are. This could be every day for the rest of our lives. The two of us together every morning, waking up together, then creating and doing whatever we want. There is no reason why we can't have this kind of life."

Looking into his eyes, and listening to his words made her want to believe it. Yes, they could have that life. A life fashioned into what they both wanted. Freedom and love without explanation or obligation to anyone. Dropping her head onto his chest, she felt all the fear and anxieties drain out of her mind. All that was left was hope.

"Say something," he whispered.

Lifting her head to look at him, she finally gave into a smile. "I love you."

When he woke up he didn't know what time it was, or how long he'd been sleeping. Throwing the heavy blankets aside, Erik stepped out of bed, the cold bracing every inch of his skin. He hurriedly grabbed his shirt and trousers from the night before, and hurried into them. Going to the window, he parted the curtains, squinting hard against the sun. It was past midday, from what he could tell. Cursing under his breath, he hurried out the door. He hated losing so much time with Meg just to sleep. It would likely be the only day they would have completely to themselves before she would have to begin rehearsals in Stockholm. From the head of the stairs there was nothing to be heard, but silence. Following the stairs down and into the main hallway, he searched for her. Finally, he found her dancing in the sunlit gallery. She danced as if she could hear the music of a full orchestra. Spinning and swaying she flowed from one step into another, completely unaware of him. Though he had watched her perform countless times, she still never failed to move him. Every step and gesture was beauty. After all that time, she still took his breath away. As she came out of a pirouette, she caught him watching. She stopped, her smile like the sunlight behind her, as she walked across the gallery to meet him.

"How long have you been awake," she asked.

"Not long," he said, taking her hand to kiss it.

She laughed, raising her brows. "What is this?"

"You're beautiful, that's all," he said, his hand still locked into hers. "And I still wonder how the hell I convinced you to marry me."

"Actually, it was me who convinced you to get married," she laughed.

He lifted his shoulders. "The result was the same. And I still wonder how it happened."

She went into a relevé and laced her arms around his neck. "It happened because you are who I wanted more than anyone or anything. I still feel that way."

"Good." He lifted her off the ground, carrying her back down the hall.

"Where are you taking me," she whispered, playfully winding her legs around his waist.

"I could take you back to bed, or we could select one of the other 20 rooms in this museum. Choose one!"