Chapter IX

Let us go early to the vineyards
to see if the vines have budded,
if their blossoms have opened,
and if the pomegranates are in bloom—
there I will give you my love.
Song of Solomon 7:12

There is always music amongst the trees in the
garden, but our hearts must be very quiet to hear
it.

- M. Aumonier

xXx

.

On the eve of the new moon, Erik sought out Christine and found her sitting cross-legged on the ground, helping a few of the children bind coils of twine around newly made bows. He frowned at the pitiful weapons, but supposed them better than nothing.

He had observed the gypsy rats closely during their initial lessons, allowing them to fight each other in slow hand-to-hand combat with short wooden sticks the first two nights, quickly discerning who was more adept at swinging a dagger and who had the eye and hand coordination to use a bow and arrow or a slingshot; which boy or girl was more steady and solid in their actions, and which of them possessed the innate knowledge not only to wield the crude weaponry but also to foresee their opponents' next move. To his surprise, a number of children exhibited the skills of a warrior, and he assumed their fathers must have taught them such abilities to survive. The Drabarni had mentioned they endured the Don's treachery for three seasons.

"Su Majested," Boldo cried rushing up behind him. Erik turned in his tracks to face the sprightly boy, who at once looked more cowed but stood his ground. "I have fashioned the arrows as you instructed and have a full quiver."

"Excellent. You know what to do while I'm away?"

The boy nodded. "I'm to help the other five you selected to practice shooting arrows and am to watch over their lessons."

"It is an important task I leave you with." Erik afforded the boy a serious glance. "The lessons must continue as before, you must not be lax with them. Both you and Fordel will assume command during my absence. He will help those chosen to fight with the dagger, and both of you must see to it that the smallest children do not get in the way of being hurt."

The boy gave a quick nod of compliance. "I will do as you have said."

"See that you do." In their nocturnal lessons, once the gypsies traded wooden daggers for steel ones, a few of the less skilled children had suffered cuts on their hands or arms, but nothing serious enough to warrant more than a paste of herbs the Drabarni prepared and a clean wrapping. Christine also had helped to tend the injured, had helped in whatever capacity she was needed at the time, and never with a murmur of complaint.

Erik again faced her, grateful for his bride, wishing to do more for her. Still he marveled that a woman as exquisite as his Angel had happily pledged her troth to him, had given all of herself to the pathetic excuse for the being into which he'd been created. Through her gentle eyes she saw him as an Angel, and a man she desired. But a lifetime of contradiction persuaded him that he bore the face of a devil, existing as a monster to be feared.

As though sensing his gaze, she looked up from knotting a strip of twine around a bow. The luminous sparkles had faded with the dawn that followed her curious encounter in the forest two nights before, though at times Erik discerned a sprinkling of glimmers upon her skin, further enhancing her splendor. As he did now. He held out his hand to her, and she rose from the ground, smiling. She walked to him and took his outstretched hand.

"Are you ready for your next lesson?" he asked, his voice low, excluding the others.

She nodded, an eager light in her beautiful dark eyes.

He looked at the children who sat in a semi-circle staring up at them as if awaiting further instruction. "I am taking my lady across the stream for her lesson, and we do not wish to be disturbed. Is that understood?"

"You are going to the other side of the stream?" Aishe whispered, her eyes growing huge, like great wells of black.

"I have said it."

The children stared at their leaders as if they might vanish into puffs of smoke. Loath to delve further into the wearisome discussion that had beset him this morning from a number of the more vocal gypsies, including the irksome Drabarni, Erik led Christine away from camp and down the path.

"What did you say to them?" she asked. "They looked terrified. I caught the words 'stream' and 'lesson', but little else."

"I told them we were crossing the stream to commence with your lesson."

"And your words issued that type of response? Aishe turned white as ash."

"The gypsies hold to their superstitions, that will never change." They had reached the swiftly flowing stream. Before she could inquire as to what he meant, or even slip off the satin slippers he'd given her as part of her wedding trousseau, Erik swept her up in his arms.

She laughed, linking her fingers behind his neck. "This is becoming something of a custom."

His eyes sparkled with a devilish gleam behind the mask as he strode across the stream. "Do you object?" His grin boded of mischief.

"Not in the least. Indeed, it is a custom I could grow quite comfortable with if it means a stolen moment held against you, in your arms."

He appeared to consider. "Perhaps I should issue a proclamation, that your tender feet are never to touch ground. Thus said, I alone am to carry my Queen wherever she desires."

"I fear that would be a grave mistake," she laughed. "You would doubtless spoil me, or worse, tire of carrying such a burden. For surely, with such lack of exercise, I will grow as fat as the old Drabarni."

He chuckled. "A burden – oh, no, never that. Nor could a rose so pure or so sweet ever spoil. I will never tire of holding you in my arms, Christine."

Her heart gave a little trip. Even in the midst of their teasing banter he had the power to render her breathless, his words no longer blithe but sincere. As he set her on her feet once more and she stared up into his steady eyes, she recalled again that too much time had elapsed since they'd shared in the act of their love.

At the sound of muffled voices, she looked over her shoulder and across the stream where two gypsy children stood beside a tree, watching them. Erik barked out a command for them to go and the two small boys raced back to camp. Shaking his head, he touched his fingers to Christine's elbow, to steer her further past the trees.

For a moment, her gaze drifted to the area where she'd envisioned the Light. Erik, sensing her hesitation, waited. They shared a look, having spoken about the incident often since that night. Soon he would leave with Armando on his scouting mission, and Christine chose to believe that the Light and the message imparted had been a sign that her husband would be safe. Nonetheless, she had no wish to dwell on the advent of evening, for she knew Erik planned to leave before sunset.

Together, they strolled through the wild grasses. Erik's mysterious smile sharpened Christine's curiosity. "I know that expression on your face. What are you hiding from me?" She turned to him, a bounce in her step like that of an excited child about to receive a special gift, and clutched his upper arm with both hands.

The corners of his lips flickered in amusement. "Be patient, and you will see."

Patience was never her strong suit, but she knew him well enough to realize he wouldn't budge once he made up his mind. At last they reached a small clearing and Christine's eyes widened in astonishment.

A vista of green spread out before her covered with a tapestry of crimson and white wildflowers, enclosed on three sides by tall trees bearing huge ivory blossoms and on one side by a stone cliff of ash-gray rock that gleamed silver from the ores inside it. "Oh," she breathed, with a delighted smile as she moved into the clearing. "It is so ... beautiful ..." The sky shimmered a soft dove gray, causing the rich colors of the earth to be intensified.

She spun in a slow circle, holding her arms slightly out to her sides to absorb the surrounding beauty, while Erik stood near the trees and watched her with an adoring smile.

"When did you find this place?" she asked.

"When we first made camp." He waited for some time, allowing her a full measure of enjoyment, before moving toward her and removing his pistol from its holster.

"Do you remember all I taught you yesterday?"

"Yes." Still smiling, she met him halfway through the carpet of red wildflowers and took the heavy firearm in her hand.

"Show me."

She looked around to find a target, settling on a bough that bore a cluster of huge, waxy white flowers sticking out at a sharp angle from a tree approximately thirty feet away. The perfumed blossoms would bring beauty to their tent. "There." She motioned with her head and readied the pistol, aiming it.

"There?" Erik's brows lifted in surprise as he studied her chosen spot.

"You don't think I can hit the branch?"

"It is a small target at a relatively great distance, but I do not wish to discourage you. By all means, proceed."

"Good. I shall." She gave him a saucy grin and aimed the gun, pulling the trigger. The bullet whizzed off course and hit the rocks beyond.

"You are holding the pistol too tightly," he corrected. "Likewise, your arms are stiff. You must relax your stance without giving way."

Again she readied the firearm and tried, much closer to her target but still off course.

"You must become one with the weapon, Christine, as if it is a part of you. Do not fear its recoil once you squeeze the trigger. That can cause you to tense and your aim to go off course.

"Show me?" she asked with an innocent lift of her brows.

Behind the mask, his eyes narrowed a fraction as if he questioned her motives, but he gave an answering nod and stepped behind her. Her breath caught as his broad chest touched her shoulder and one of his strong legs pressed against her skirts. His arms lifted around her and he encircled her wrists gently with his hands to guide her aim. He was right to be suspicious. She had every desire to achieve the skill of firing this weapon in the near future … but at this moment her desire was solely for her husband.

In a slow, deliberate manner, she retreated the step needed to feel the heat radiating off his body, brushing against him, enticing him, gradually moving closer without upsetting his physical balance, until his solid form pressed hard against her - his emotional symmetry she intended to knock far off course. By the manner in which his heartbeats quickened and kept time with hers, she'd succeeded in both.

She sensed his rapt attention on her face and exposed neck, but continued staring at the target ahead. Tilting her head back, so that her curls brushed his cheek, she whispered, her honeyed words a breath of warmth against his jaw, "When you say I must relax my stance, do you mean like this?"

He drew a sharp breath, his muscles flexing against her. "Enough of your sweet torment, wife." His voice rumbled low near her ear. "Your lesson in weaponry is now ended."

The motion of his dark, promising words against her back sent tremors dancing along her spine. A surge of anticipation shot through her as one of his large hands pressed against her midriff, keeping her close, while he removed the heavy pistol from her suddenly nerveless grip and set it on a boulder beside them.

"Have you another type of lesson to teach me, husband?" she inquired, her tone both innocent and alluring.

"Indeed, my Seductive Rose …" He pushed away her thick curls from her neck. "… a lesson I intend to teach you throughout all of one lifetime." His soft lips brushed along the column near her throat. She exhaled a sigh of delight, her eyes fluttering closed as she leaned back against his strong shoulder and lifted her hand to the back of his head.

"The children …" she breathed as logic interfered when she remembered the two urchins by the stream. His hand dipped beneath her low, ruffled neckline and he gently rolled her nipple between two fingers. A wave of electric warmth washed through her, and she struggled to think regarding what more she wished to say. "Perhaps we should find a secluded spot elsewhere, away from seeking eyes, in the event that we were followed?"

"None would dare follow us." His breath warm against her ear, his teeth lightly nipped her lobe. "Their superstitions won't let them."

"Superstitions?"

"They believe this area beyond the stream to be inhabited by ghosts."

"Ghosts …" she softly repeated as he slipped her sleeve further down her shoulder halfway down her arm and pressed his warm lips against the curve of her skin. For a moment his low remark caused concern. "Why should they think that? Did they also see the Light and think it a ghost?" While she spoke, his mouth continued to caress her sensitive flesh, and he took her fast to the point where she was beyond caring if she received answers to her questions or not. Surely if Erik felt no alarm, considering all they had already experienced with the Phantom, a problem did not exist.

"The gypsies have sinister visions and dwell in all manner of superstitions … what Aishe imagined is unlike the light you saw." He spoke between measured kisses across the slope of her shoulder. "She said a wail in the night woke her … a dark shape across the stream that she perceived to be a wraith, no doubt only a nightmare … I have sensed no mystical evil nearby, not as I did on our journey to Spain."

Christine had sensed no such darkness either. "Yes, but, do you think someone may have been watching the camp?" she whispered.

"No footprints or other tracks mark the area." His lips burned a trail down her neck. She groaned in pleasure as his warm fingers closed around the globe of her breast and squeezed with gentle insistence. "You and I have fought and triumphed over the worst evil. Surely nothing can exceed that, if indeed a lone wraith does haunt these quiet waters." He pulled the neckline of her blouse down with his other hand as he spoke. "Which I deem does not exist except in the minds of small, gullible children."

Any slim possibility of haunted woodlands in the night held no further interest for Christine. Her beloved would protect her, as he'd always done, and the Light promised to remain ever near.

She turned in Erik's embrace, accepting and returning his kisses with fervent longing. He sank with her to the earth, his arm shielding her head, the other clutched around her waist. Within a short time they divested each other of all clothing and she lay beneath him atop his cloak. A soft spattering of occasional raindrops hit them from the cloudy sky above.

"It's going to rain," she whispered, her hands reaching up to slip off his mask and cradle his jaw. Her gaze searched every inch of his face, then lifted to drown in the rich green of his eyes, smoky with desire, intent on her.

"Do you wish to find shelter?" he whispered, even as his fingertips brushed over the fine, imperceptible hairs of her sensitized skin. His hand traveled slowly over her stomach, along her hip and upraised thigh that pressed against him. She inhaled a sharp breath at his actions, pulling him down to her, answering him with her kiss.

"You are my shelter, Erik," she whispered after a moment, again brushing her lips over his parted ones. "I'm protected beneath my Angel's wings."

The rain fell with ease, a warm sprinkling combined with the sweet scent of wildflowers, but no flower was more aromatic to Erik than his precious rose. The droplets fell upon her alabaster skin as clear, shimmering jewels, and with his mouth and hands he followed the faint, beaded trails they left along her silken flesh, until she gasped and trembled beneath him with a need and hunger that equaled his own. Her soft hands and warm mouth formed similar trails of agonizing delight against his damp skin, and he inhaled a soft, shuddering whisper of sound when she found those areas that gave him the most pleasure.

When the moment of their consummation occurred, he entered her with slow and tender power, filling all of her. Christine gave a little moan of blissful relief at their blending as together they shared in their music, warm and gentle as the rain. With steady measure their tempo increased while the droplets fell faster in accompaniment and they lost themselves to their passionate song, achingly sweet … potent … heady. The moment of their combined release eclipsed the staccato beats of the downpour that had begun to strike against them, and they held fast to one another as he sated her with his warm seed, their fluids mixing as the life-giving rain mixed with the soil, and their hearts beat swiftly, as one.

On most occasions, once the high tide of their passion ebbed, he remained buried deep inside her. She had often expressed that she preferred to retain physical oneness with him as long as possible, a request easily granted, for he wished the same. But the once soft rain now stung like needles against his skin and had grown colder. Though he had shielded his beloved as best he could, Erik needed to find them shelter and knew exactly where to go.

Quickly, he moved from Christine and helped her to her feet, struggling to find them both negligible balance in the slippery grass. He swept their clothes, shoes, and his mask and pistol in a bundle, stuffing it under his arm at the same time lightning flashed a jagged furrow across the darkened sky. Taking her hand, he ran with her through the copse of blossoming trees to a portion of the cliff he'd seen on his perusal of the area days ago. She both laughed at their quandary and squealed, shrinking a little each time the thunder boomed close.

But she never once let go of his hand.

xXx

In a shadowed corridor at Whiterose, the Dowager Comtesse encountered Yvette's lady's maid just as she was about to open the door to the Comtesse de Chagny's private sitting room. The rather plain girl, a few years older than Helena's servant, Elsie, gave a slight curtsey, her hazel eyes opening wider in anxious surprise. She held a silver tea tray clutched between both hands.

"I assume that is for the Comtesse?" Helena glanced at the top of the tray, adorned with a tempting array of sweet biscuits, a pot of steaming tea, and a china teacup and saucer.

The girl nodded.

Helena attempted to remove the tray from the servant's strong grip. "I will take it to her."

The utensils on top slid a fraction when the girl wouldn't release her hold. Helena looked up with a modicum of surprise to be so obviously challenged by a servant.

"My lady says she does not wish for company." The girl was clearly nervous to oppose Helena, but evidently loyal to her mistress's orders.

"Indeed? I am grieved to hear the Comtesse is still feeling poorly. However, I am certain her request for solitude would not include a benevolent visit from her hostess, now would it?" Helena gave a sharper tug, successfully freeing the tray from the surprised girl's hands, and stepped back before she could reclaim it. Helena had more important issues to tackle than the mild insolence of one young lady's maid. "Now if you would be so kind as to open the door?"

The taxing girl glanced at the closed doors, then at Helena, clearly at a loss what to do: disobey her mistress or resist the noblewoman who owned the manor in which she and her mistress now dwelt. Looking a bit intimidated, she finally moved the handle of one of the doors downward, opening it and stepping aside so Helena could pass.

Helena whisked into the private sitting room she'd given her guest, realizing she was not wanted, but unwilling to be detained further. After the bizarre incident in the garden, when she caught Yvette in her bed gown in the dead of night, the abnormally reticent Comtesse de Chagny retired to her rooms for days, pleading ill health. On the outset, Helena had not insisted on a confrontation, wavering between the misgivings of her lady's maid where the Comtesse was concerned and the desire to understand more, but curiosity prevailed. When the Comtesse again graced Helena with her presence at the dining table, any discussion Helena might have introduced regarding that night was pre-empted by an unexpected visit from the local vicar. The following evening, the moment Helena brought up the subject, the Comtesse pleaded another headache, an infirmity to which she'd become amazingly privy, and again retired to her rooms, where she had been secluded since that time.

Fully dressed in a gray-and-white-striped day gown, Yvette stood with her profile to Helena, clutching the drapery of the tall window from which she stared out onto the lawn.

At the sound of the door, Yvette spoke without turning. "Leave the tray and go, Leah. I need nothing further from you at this time."

"I am pleased to hear it, but I trust you will not refuse me your company," Helena replied. She set the tray down on the table, noting how swiftly Yvette turned at the sound of her voice. She surveyed Helena like a mouse cornered by a hungry cat. "Relax, my dear. We've had little occasion to visit since our arrival at Whiterose, and I thought to take tea with you. I am delighted to see you are feeling well enough to dress. Leah, please tell my maid to bring me a cup and saucer."

Hesitating, Leah looked back and forth between the two women; Yvette gave the slightest of nods. "Oui, my lady," the maid whispered.

Once the door closed behind Leah, Helena sank to the chair beside the table, aware Yvette had not yet moved. "Two lumps of sugar?" she asked as she picked up the saucer and poured tea into the fragile cup.

"Yes, thank you," Yvette replied, her voice strangled. At last, she moved from the window and took the chair opposite, smoothing her skirts. Helena handed her the saucer. Yvette took it, giving the liquid a quick swirl with her spoon before setting it down on the saucer with a slight clink.

All appeared in genteel order, and Helena's lips lifted in a cynical grin. Such a civilized tradition as tea seemed improper to mask the true intent of her visit. But then the landed gentry often hid dire matters behind such inane rites of social custom. Nonetheless, Helena was fast reaching the point where she was ready to dispense with all ingrained decorum and shake the truth from her flighty sister-in-law.

Not wanting to risk the Comtesse choking, Helena waited until Yvette took a fortifying sip of tea and set her saucer down on the table before broaching the question she had waited for more than a week to air. "I am curious to know what transpired on the night I found you in the garden?"

"Pardon?" Yvette raised her brows as if completely oblivious, though Helena noted the panic in her eyes. They shifted to the closed door as if seeking escape.

"I am aware that the events must have caused you a great deal of grievance. Only a blind woman could ascertain otherwise. Yet you spoke of rather alarming matters, and I must insist you explain."

Yvette wrung her hands in her lap. "I-I don't know what you mean."

"Among other disturbing remarks made, you said we are all doomed, that things are not as they should be."

"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken." Her voice trembled, mocking her denial.

"My dear, you must have noticed the following morning that the hem of your bed gown was soiled from the damp grass." Helena leaned forward, her manner firm but reassuring. "I did not dream the events that occurred, Yvette. Nor am I your enemy. Yet if those at Whiterose are in danger, I must know the truth and how you came by it."

Yvette's countenance crumbled as her shoulders drooped. A slight tap at the door announced one of Helena's servants who brought her an empty teacup with a curtsey, and quickly left. Helena took a moment to pour some tea, allowing Yvette time to compose herself.

"I never wished anyone to know … it has been so long since this happened. I had hoped it would never happen again," the Comtesse admitted, her words low.

"Since what has happened?"

Yvette eyed Helena, arriving at a decision, and gave a resigned sigh. "When I was very young, some rather troubling events occurred in my household, and I took to walking in my sleep."

Helena regarded her with some surprise.

"A family physician explained the matter away as a curious phase over which my parents should not be alarmed. To my relief it did soon did pass, or so I thought, until the advent of my marriage to the Comte."

Helena stared into her teacup, stirring its contents. "Go on."

"May I be frank with you, now that you know the truth? I'm not accustomed to seeking a confidante."

"Of course." Helena regarded the woman with an encouraging smile.

"A dear cousin advised me not to proceed with my marriage to the Comte, and a childhood friend who professed his love begged me to elope with him." A bittersweet smile tilted her lips at the memory. "However, I had little choice. My father and my husband's father arranged our union when I was but a child."

She stared at the silver tea tray, her mind clearly not on its contents. "A week before we were wed, I experienced another episode of sleepwalking, the first since my tenth summer. I was alarmed, but more so when I woke with an impending sense of doom. Those who heard me speak while in this state told me I spoke as a soothsayer, indicating that both families would be cursed if the marriage were to commence. I did not recall the incident, but it gave me fear that if I married the Comte, who was then Vicomte, our marriage would be ill fated before it could begin." Her clasped hands tightened in her lap. "I shared my qualms with my mother. She scolded me, telling me I was an ungrateful daughter and that if I were to refuse it would be to the ruination of the family name. That as the only daughter, I would cause a terrible scandal, not to mention an irreparable slight to the de Chagny family."

Helena shifted her gaze to the low flames in the grate, a sick feeling rising to the pit of her stomach. "You did not wish to marry him?"

"No. Had I the choice, I would have married another. Yet as a dutiful daughter, the choice was not granted me. The few times the Vicomte came to visit, he treated me with kindness and respect. We shared a pleasant companionship. So I began to hope that the sleepwalking incident was only a nightmare and that our marriage could bring us both fulfillment. I gave him a son and heir, so I did not fail in that regard. Through the years I came to love him, though I knew, in time, his heart was never mine to share."

Helena sat very still, waiting, her eyes still on the fire.

"When I had that episode last week, I woke with a feeling not unlike the experience during my engagement, a feeling of impending doom. At the time of my engagement I chose to ignore the incident, aided by the strong persuasions of my mother. Though I cannot claim my marriage was unlike any others formed by arrangement, as a mutual benefit to both families, I've often had the feeling that I erred, that the union between us should never have taken place. Foolish, perhaps, to entrust one's future to an omen, but I couldn't rid myself of the sense that I'd somehow failed."

Helena closed her eyes, feeling suddenly out of her element. "Perhaps you should not speak to me of such things, Yvette …"

"You offered to be my confidante. In truth, you are the only friend I have. But if you would prefer I do not speak with such candor, I will refrain from doing so. It is simply that I have such little association with others. As you know, my parents were both killed in a fire a year after I was wed. They were all the family I had, save for my cousin who's long since married and moved to England. Nor do I have many I consider friends among those who gravitate in our circles."

Helena cordoned her unease. "Of course. I will listen to whatever you wish to share."

"Merci." Yvette smiled, relieved. "I know many think I have little sense and I do tend to talk overly much and become rather excitable, and perhaps I do and am all those things." She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. "But I chose to take you into my confidence in order to prepare you for my request. I was going to speak with you in any event, but I do hope that my revelations today will help you understand just how significant this is for my peace of mind."

"Your request?"

"I wish to return home as soon as it can be arranged."

Helena stared at her a long moment. "You cannot be serious."

"I've thought of nothing else for days, since the night I walked in my sleep."

Knowing that Raoul would disapprove of his mother's decision, Helena sought to discourage her. "Yvette, there is still an uprising in Paris, if you'll recall, one which you have greatly feared."

"My fear has not diminished due to distance. Indeed I find my suffering is far worse since I am anxious for my husband and have no way of knowing his condition. At least at the manor, I'll not be careworn with worries or regrets."

"Regrets?"

"Whether our marriage should have taken place or not is a moot point, I think you'll agree. It did occur and I am his wife, however distressed I am to admit that I've been a poor one, preferring to flit away to my rooms or to another country when feasible, if something of the least concern troubled our household. I ignored my husband's philandering ways, as other women who endured similar misfortunes instructed me to do, and I've exhibited a simple-minded weakness to all who know me. I think, however, it is high time for me to take a stand and act as a true Comtesse."

Though ill at ease by the blunt manner in which Yvette spoke of her marriage, Helena regarded her with a new admiration. It took a woman of great character to admit her faults and desire to rectify them, something she herself never attempted, though the desire had always been present. In truth, the shrinking violet, Yvette, showed more strength than Helena with all her bluff and bluster.

"Since this sleepwalking has reoccurred, I feel it must be a sign that I'm to go to my husband," the Comtesse continued. "Once I did not heed the warning and suffered through what I felt was my disobedience. I do not wish to endure such torment a second time."

"I don't know what to say."

Yvette smiled. "Since you cannot hold me prisoner, however my son may wish it, I plan to leave for Ravenswolf at first light, with or without your blessing. And since I have spoken so boldly, it is my earnest hope that you will join me."

"You wish for my company?" Helena's words came quiet. "Why?"

"I had hoped that would be obvious, though with my recent withdrawal, I can understand your confusion." She spread her plump hands in a simple little gesture, again allowing them to fall in her lap. "You've become a dear friend, and though I may seem confident at this moment, in truth I'm a pathetic bundle of nerves." She gave a terse laugh. "I am encouraged that with you by my side, the Comte will quell any displeasure that I have ignored his wishes in returning. You were such a stabilizing influence in our home when finally you did accept my invitation to visit."

"You credit me with praise I hardly deserve." Helena could no longer meet her eyes and stood to her feet. "I must think the matter over before I give you an answer. Raoul will not like this …"

"Raoul has his own concerns that have taken him to Spain. He need never know."

"Don't you imagine he will learn the truth once he returns?"

"Until he finds Miss Daae and that masked Phantom person, I doubt very much he will return. I've never seen him so enraged. He was such a carefree young man until the misfortune at the theater occurred, and no amount of pleading will alter his decision." She sighed, troubled. "I'm not one bit happy about this obsession he has for the man to be brought to justice, but I've come to accept that my son will not return to France until he has rescued Miss Daae and the Phantom is dead."

Helena swept to the door, unable to hear more. "I will speak with you again this evening and let you know my decision."

What she had thought would result in an enlightening encounter had gone awry, and she could not quit the room fast enough.

xXx

Hand in hand, Erik and Christine ran to a portion of the cliff with an overhang five feet approximate in length and depth. Its concealment served as a cozy alcove that would prevent further soaking until the deluge passed, though they were both drenched. Rainwater glistened on every inch of her skin and dripped from her hair, as it did his.

Erik made quick work of riffling through the bundle of clothing and handed Christine her chemise. "This appears to be all that avoided a thorough soaking. Your skirt shielded it, but the skirt itself is wet."

She slipped the thin material over her head, the hemline falling to a few inches below her knees while he struggled into his uncomfortably damp breeches in their futile effort to clothe their bodies for warmth. All the while Erik hunched over so as not to hit his head on the low rock ceiling. Dispensing with donning his sodden shirt, he fastened around his shoulders his woolen cloak, which also had escaped much of the moisture since they'd been lying atop it. He sat on the dry ground, pulling up his knees, then drew her down to rest between his legs, with her back against his chest. Draping his cape around her, he enclosed them both within its folds. She sighed a little in pleasure and leaned her head back against his shoulder. He noted the growing smile on her face as she watched the downpour.

"You find our situation amusing?" he asked with uplifted eyebrow.

"Somewhat," she admitted and giggled, verifying her feelings. "You must admit our swift trek through the forest without a stitch on must have been a sight to behold." Her face grew rosy as another thought occurred. "It's a good thing the children fear this area and weren't in the vicinity to see!"

He chuckled. "Yes, that might have proved embarrassing."

She snuggled closer to him, both her hands holding one of his arms crossed over her breasts. "But if I smile, it's with happiness. I love being with you, Erik. Even stranded with you, cold and wet to the skin during a cloudburst is more appealing than a day in warm sunshine without you by my side."

He kissed her hair. "I need not tell you the full measure of my love. Everything you have said I experience tenfold. You are my life, Christine. You have always been a part of me, but since the moment we consummated our vows, I feel as if your very essence flows through my veins."

"I feel that way also, as if a part of you forever dwells inside me. I have always felt in tune with you, but now it is so much more … intense." Her smile was soft. "Oh, my dear Angel. Sometimes I wish we could retreat from the world whenever we wish and not have to wait for evening to withdraw and be alone together. To talk, or share in our music, or just be with one another in a haven of peaceful togetherness."

"Why can we not have that?"

She grew alert and raised her head to look at him. "Do you mean it?" At his nod, her eyes brightened. "Then let this place become our secret hideaway from the others, a place only we shall know about and share."

"This?" He looked with doubtful regard at the cramped rock alcove where the rain beat down only feet in front of them.

"Yes, this. And the meadow of wildflowers beyond, where we made love." Her face glowed with the idea. "It's perfect, do you not see? This place where we first found an afternoon to be alone together since Seville, a place far removed from the others where only we exist, our own personal haven of make-believe." He quirked his brow and she shook her head. "No, don't look at me like that. I don't intend to engage in false pretenses or foolish games. I've had my fill of those. But we must vow to leave all outside matters that do not pertain to us on the other side of the stream, where they belong."

He regarded her with interest and affection. "Pray continue. It pleases me to hear my Queen express ideas and take charge in her new role. What else would you desire in this matter?"

She thought a moment. "This place will be sacred to us – no outside talk of upcoming skirmishes or present squabbles within the camp shall be allowed. Nor anything else that would cause either of us distress. Here I will sing and dance for you, and you will sing and play your violin for me, perhaps compose? And I will help you in whatever manner you wish, much as we did in our magnificent Eden in Seville during that one week of uninterrupted bliss." Her bright smile dispelled the gloom of the cold alcove and elicited an answering smile from him. "Here, we shall speak only of what gives us pleasure, Erik. Perhaps of the future we'll have once we leave here. And of the children Malakh told us we shall bring into the world. I think I should like a house filled with them."

He regarded her with a mix of alarm and surprise. "And have you a definitive number in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know, but I think I'd like a big family." She teased the corner of her bottom lip with her teeth in contemplation. "I was an only child, and until Meg came along, and of course you, I was quite lonely."

"You had the Vicomte as well." The words slipped out of their own accord, nor did he intend them to sound sullen. He empathized with her former loneliness, since they'd both experienced a profound measure of it, and he honestly tried to understand and accept her former association with his rival, though it was difficult.

"Raoul, I knew one summer by the sea as a child, and later three months at the opera house." She maintained eye contact with him, her gaze tender. "You, I have known what seems my entire existence, and will experience throughout all of one lifetime."

He felt the corners of his mouth twitch in a telltale smile. Once more, as she so often did, she calmed his niggling uncertainties with her gentle assurances. "So, you think of me as an experience?"

"Oh, most definitely." Smiling, she stroked his cheek and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth. "An experience I want to live over and over and over again …"

He longed to move his head, to return her sweet kiss, but needed to know all that lay within her heart. "And this 'experience' … what with all we have unexpectedly encountered and the life we now inhabit – sleeping in a tent that is not ours, on a bed of pillows instead of a bed, without possession of any true furnishings, and no extravagances to befit a lady, a queen … are you truly content, Mon Ange? I desired to give you everything of earthly value. Had you chosen him, once I let you go, you could have had every luxury that should have been yours –"

"No." She pressed her fingertips to his lips. "No more, Erik. We have discussed this before and my feelings have not altered nor will they. I did have the ball gowns, and the parties, the social gatherings and other delights for which most girls fantasize. But all the pageantry and glitter could not dispel my solitude, nor the ache that became a living part of my soul once you left. I tried to pretend I could live in such a world, a world without you, when I thought you no longer wanted me. But once you returned on the evening of the Bal Masque and walked down those steps toward me, and I then looked into your gentle, beseeching eyes and saw that you returned all the love I felt for you … I knew at once there would only ever be your arms to hold me, your voice to soothe and inspire me, your dreams, which were also my own. You ask if I am content?" She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly and smiled. "No, I am not content. I am passionately and madly in love with my husband and desire him with me every moment I am awake and asleep. Since realistically that cannot be, I resign myself to precious moments we can share together, like these. And the glorious nights, which will always be ours, alone … Or at least they will be once the lessons with the children have ended."

The love shining in her eyes mirrored the sincerity of her words, moving him, and he did not mistake the tremor of regret in her final remark. He smoothed back from her face tendrils of wet hair, which had begun to curl and shine like lustrous umber.

"Christine, you are my heart. I vow to you we will again share such evenings once this is finished." This time, he bent to take her lips in a tender kiss. "I no longer have any worldly goods to bestow, nothing of monetary value to share, only myself, which I give to you and gladly. Yet, if I could give you any one thing within my power and grant you a request, what would you most desire?"

She considered a moment. "I think I should like to bathe in hot, scented water in the privacy of our tent."

Her unexpected response bewildered him. "You wish for a bath?"

"Not just a bath, Erik, but to enjoy the benefits of a heated one. And a lengthy one at that. Especially after that dousing of cold rainwater we received, the idea of a bath is quite agreeable." She shivered.

"You have caught a chill?" He tightened his embrace.

"Wrapped in your arms, I barely feel the cold, though I must admit our damp clothes do not help stimulate warmth."

He did not air the sudden thought that came to mind, but she read it in his burning gaze and the flicker of his lips.

"To which you will suggest the utter unimportance of our need for clothes?" she quipped, her smile matching his.

"Ah, my Exquisite Rose, you know me so well."

"I am learning all there is to know about you … and loving the many lessons you've taught. And in this matter, my King," she stroked his jaw with her hand, allowing her fingers to linger in a light trail, "I am at your behest and subject myself – quite willingly – to your wise counsel…"

He met her kiss, his tongue caressing hers. They rid themselves of their clammy garments, flesh soon warming flesh. The rain dwindled, the sun reappeared to warm the land, but they barely took note of the change in climate as their passions for one another again melded and strengthened …

Once they deigned to leave their secret hideaway and return to the gypsy camp, the sun had begun to bow low to the rising moon and evening stars twinkled in a violet sky.

Her countenance grew troubled as she walked beside him, and he knew they shared the same thought – very soon he would leave her behind and ride into the night with Armando as a guide, in order to fulfill his promise to the gypsies. His heart dull with the realization of the separation that must soon occur, he tightened his hold around her waist. She stumbled, her fingers digging into his back. Before they reached the stream, he again gently lifted her up into his arms.

They looked into one another's eyes a long moment but this time no light banter ensued when he crossed the stream with her. Once he set her on dry ground, before they joined the others, he again sought her gaze, his eyes steady behind the mask.

"I promise you, Christine, I will return to you. Nothing could keep me away. Trust the message the Light gave you, that we will both be safe."

She nodded, pressing her fingers against his cheek. "It is all that gives me hope."

He took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips, before guiding her back to camp.

xXx