Before I start the chapter let me just say thank you so much to all of you who have left way awesome, probably undeserved, reviews. They are truly, much appreciated. In fact, they are embarrassingly addicting. So, THANK YOU! Next, the story is going to really start deserving its 'M' rating. If that kind of thing displeases you, consider this fair warning not to wade into treacherous territory! Without further adieu - Chapter 10.

Chapter 10

Long trails blazoning the grey sky with pink chased away the night. Erik's captivating scent wound into Christine's awareness causing her eyes to flutter like the wings of a butterfly before finally opening. Fearing some burlesque imitation cajoled her into believing she lay within his arms she searched for his visage to ensure it was he who charmed her.

His sleeping countenance filled her still drowsy eyes and his arms held her nestled snugly against him, even in sleep. She floated pleasurably in his embrace and quietly rested her eyes on him as he slept peacefully. A lock of midnight hair fell starkly across his mask and hid it from view, which clearly set off the unmarked side of his face and made him appear as any other man. How beautiful he is!

Sorrow an imperfect face consigned him to the fate that surrounded him flew through her. The sentencing seemed grossly out of proportion to the crime. She wondered where he would be if perfection had been his lot. Would it have left her arms empty? Glad relief he was not perfect spread through her, and then shame followed in its wake for her perfidy. But the fact remained, this was the way of things, and however it was he came to her, she was blissfully content to have him in her life.

She reached gentle fingertips to his face as he slept and traced the faintly scratchy skin of his beard along his jaw and across the perfectly placed dimple in his chin. The coarseness of his skin against her fingers in the morning captivated her because it meant she had awakened nestled against him in the dawn of morning's first light; the only time she ever saw him unshaven. She lifted the lock of midnight hair that draped his mask, pushed it back, and ran her fingers softly into his hair behind the mask. Without warning, he lurched from sleep, and turned wild eyes to hers, locking them in a fiery gaze. Burning rage blazed in their windows. Did she dare remove his mask again?

Startled, her hand flew back and fear raced into her bewildered eyes. Then her features relaxed into a countenance of tranquility as she comprehended the meaning of his instinctual response. Her voice became an elixir for pain as she calmly reassured him, "No my love, I will never remove your mask without your explicit permission; you have my word and my promise."

His expression softened as the raging fire in his eyes smoldered and went out; once again he slipped down to lie beside her, though no words came to his lips. The silence in the room weighted them heavily. Tentatively she lifted her hand back to his face and his eyes followed, but when he did not stop her she traced his jaw line with her fingers and then pressed her lips upon the dimple in his chin. Suddenly his arms clutched her tightly and the wild thumping of his heart pulsed perceptibly against her skin as he held her close. Did she upset him as much as all that?

Her mind was swept back to the time when she had unmasked him before and a sick nausea welled in the pit of her stomach as she wondered how she could have done something so hurtful to someone whom she now loved so much. Tears sprang into her eyes and dropped silently against the skin of his chest. How to say she was sorry for the erstwhile infraction eluded her. He slipped his finger beneath her chin, bent his head to hers, and kissed each eye softly. The saltiness of the tear-filled kiss offered up the apology for her. He traced the trail of a tear with his finger, and then reached for the linens covering the bed to dab her cheeks.

He rewrapped her in his arms with his cheek against her hair and asked "Would you like to bathe while I make breakfast my love? She nodded "Yes" through her tears. A smile touched his lips as he left the bed, and then waited for her as he held out his hand for her to follow.

Erik knelt on the hearth and stirred the fires while she slipped a toe into the water behind the makeshift curtain before allowing her body to be engulfed beneath the surface. While she bathed, Erik brewed tea, warmed fragrant baguettes whose smell permeated the room, and sliced juicy melon with drips that rolled down the sides profusely at the cut of the knife. Before long he said, "Breakfast awaits you, my love."

She replied "Oh, Erik, I love this, I want to stay in all day!"

He retorted "You're going to be a wrinkly prune if you stay in much longer."

She lifted her hands through the splashing of the water to scrutinize her fingers. "Erik, you are right. I am wrinkly! Will these things disappear?" Her voice was laced with concern.

A robust laugh escaped Erik's lips from behind the curtain. "Yes, my dearest one. That is unless women are different from men."

There was a pause before she said hopefully "Do you jest?"

She heard the smile in his voice as he said, "Yes, you needn't worry."

"Well, I think that's the signal for me to get out nonetheless."

There was another pause before she again said, "Erik?"

"Yes, my love."

"There are no towels back here."

"Are you absolutely positive?"

"Yes there is nothing back here but a paper bag with a chunk of lemon soap in it. Could you please bring me something?" So much for the makeshift curtain.

He remembered using the last towel in the heap the day before. Anticipation gripped him. "Yes, I'll bring you something shortly.

The sound of his footsteps died away and then grew perceptible again before she heard his voice behind the curtain asking "Are you ready for me? I have the towels."

"Yes, I am ready."

Suddenly he appeared from behind the curtain, and walked toward her, a formidable figure towering high above as she sat below in the water. Several towels were slung over his shoulder.

The water lapped playfully against her body as she sat with knees pulled up against her chest and held within the protective clasp of her arms. The square of the pool with her in it made an arresting tapestry. She glanced up at him shyly, beneath lowered lashes. Her silken white skin gleamed, her hair floated in the water around her shoulders and her toes dangled off the edge of the seat precariously. Her sweet vulnerability tugged on his heartstrings.

He knelt beside her, his eyes locking hers, and began dropping towels on the bank next to the pool when the traitorous current of the water changed its direction and intensity unexpectedly, tilting her sideways and refusing support, which forced her to release her knees and unfold the full form of her body only inches beneath his startled eyes. The clear water sparkled with the fire from the candles in patches that danced and jumped but made a poor shroud, indeed, for covering nakedness.

Involuntarily his eyes fell to her unfolding body as it floated beneath the surface and then broke through momentarily before slipping back beneath, while she reached back and held the sides of the pool. He froze in position as he knelt beside her, like stone, staring, his lips parted in shock. One thought crowded out all others: She is beautiful! The skin flawless, her body shapely and slim, and every curve and swell, firm and perfectly placed. It was the body of a woman, though only a fledgling initiate, but a woman nevertheless.

He continued staring, transfixed; his astonished gaze refused to leave the water. She glanced at him shyly through dark lashes and lowered eyes, and then calmly pulled her knees back to her chest and wrapped them safely in her arms once again. Still he knelt in place, as immobile as a statue, staring, his already large chrysalis-colored eyes, even larger.

The musical sound of her voice pierced through the din of his thoughts. "Erik my love, what is wrong?" In halting tones he replied "You – are – beautiful." "Oh! I did not mean for that to happen," she said as her face flushed crimson. Her body now clasped safely within her arms finally offered him relief. Staring at the naked translucent skin mere inches from his eyes had wrested from him every last vestige of power within him to turn away of his own volition.

Finally when she had wrapped herself in her arms his body took mercy on his soul and allowed him to release the towels and straighten his legs to stand watching, high above. Then, wordless, he turned swiftly on his heel without glancing back, and left her to her bathing. He knew his limitations well.

Once she emerged from the water, she rubbed her body dry and wrapped her hair in one of the towels he had left for her at such great peril. Goosebumps jumped up where the moisture still collected on her skin. When she rounded the curtain she saw a soft robe hanging on a peg that was warming in front of the fire. He turned his admiring gaze to her and said affectionately "I have something for you."

He picked up the robe by the collar, walked behind her, and then held it over her shoulders while she let her towel drop to the floor. He waited while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. He bent, retrieved the towel, and threw it over his shoulder and then turned her around by the shoulders to face him so he could reach behind her and grab the sash to pull it forward. His brows rushed together in concentration as he tied the sash like that of a cravat, and then stood back to glance over her as he held her arms wide. "You are beautiful" he said once again echoing his sentiments of when he had witnessed her naked form floating in the water. He took a moment to savor the image that floated pleasantly into his memory.

He drew her against his chest and asked "Does it please you?"

She snuggled against his warmth and nodded, thinking again of the scene in the pool. It both titillated and unnerved. "So very much" she replied.

His palms rubbed up and down her back to chase the chill away. Her drew back to peer into her eyes as he unwound the towel on her hair and threw that one over his shoulder too. "Now, go warm yourself by the fire while you eat breakfast."

He turned toward the hearth for her to follow and but was thwarted from further movement when she threw her arms around him and held him hard from behind. "Thank you. You are good to me!" He clasped the arms that were wound tightly around his waist in front with his hand. His eyes sparkled as he turned to say "I'm going to bathe since I have seen how much it pleases you."

She looked askance at him and said as her cheeks sprouted spots of pink "Is it so obvious?"

"Yes, but I like that you like that." Without thinking she retorted, "It's far beyond like."

She glanced toward him and smiled coyly. Long, elegant fingers draped slim hips as he stood and stared at her a moment with eyes large and glittering like emeralds and a smile twitching the corner of his mouth, before turning toward the pool to bathe.

She basked in the soft luxury of her robe while sitting in front of the flames as she ate breakfast and mused at the wonder of her life with him in it. She imagined life without him in it cold and stark as if someone suddenly smothered the warm fire and stripped her of her robe. She shivered and sipped her tea and then held its warmth cupped in her hands to chase away newly raised goosebumps on her skin.

She bit into the melon and juice exploded over her hands as she ate. When she was done she set the rind aside and, unthinking, crossed the floor to rinse her hands in the pool. She stepped around the curtain. "Erik?" He was not wearing his mask; her face went white. His hand leapt to his face. This time it was her turn to stare like stone. "Christine! You must warn me." His eyes flashed fire.

"I – I – I'm sorry!"

"Please! Go."

She scurried away and tears welled in her eyes. He did startle her but she was mad at herself for showing it. Her heart went out to him for being caught off guard. She wiped her hands on one of the wet towels as the tears slid silently down her face.

After Erik finished his bath he sauntered languidly around the curtain rubbing a towel against his hair, and then firmly threw the towel on the hearth to dry. She glanced at him and saw that the fire in his eyes had disappeared, despite the hard toss of the towel. His lip curled in the barest smidgen of a grimace only she could decipher. He was dressed in black pants and a white ruffled shirt that hung open almost to his waist, and his hair hung down long from the weight of the water that still clung and wet tear-sized drops on his shirt. His mask was in place.

She ran to him and hooked her arms up his back and over his shoulders, imploring him, the earnestness in her eyes transparent, "Don't be angry, please, please, don't be angry with me, I beseech you," the words burst forth in rapid succession. She was walking backwards in perfect sync as he walked forward.

"I'm not with you, my love. But my heart fills with fright because I think your love for me will die at such horror. How can anyone love such a face?" He ground out the words of his last sentence.

"Does anger ride crests of fear?"

"Yes."

"But I love you so. You are handsome to me either way."

"That can't be!"

"But it is!"

He dropped down in front of the fire and slid long fingers through his hair to push it out of his face. "Christine, I wish that were so."

"It is so. You must believe me! Please!"

She slipped into his lap and looped her arms around his neck, while she searched his eyes. "Please, Erik, you are angry still. I can't stand your wrath! I love you so!"

His arms leapt around her and he buried his face into her freshly dried hair. "Say that again, for me."

"I love you so! I would say it a thousand times if you wished."

He retreated enough to gaze into her eyes, "And I you."

She plucked his lips with soft kisses like falling petals from a flower, and he responded in kind. Her robe fell forward revealing the sensual swell of her breast. His eyes fell to her breast and lingered and then lifted to her face. An urge to touch his lips to its pink softness surged through him but he forced it aside. She did nothing to remold the robe but held his face in both hands and showered him with kisses before he finally stopped her and declared, "The hour grows late and if I weaken any further you won't ever be returned. All of Paris will never again her the strains of your beautiful voice."

"Oh my sweetest love," she laughed and slid from his lap as he stood. They parted ways; she to her screen and he to tend to the final ministrations of his dress. When she turned away, his eyes followed after her until the screen swallowed her up.

Not even a hint of concern about what had happened earlier showed on his face. The memory of her shapely body unfolding beneath the sparkling water like a rose in springtime rushed into his head and haunted him with its beauty. He could not rub the specter of it from his mind. Nor did he try. The pleasure was worth the price of the pain.

Later that morning when he delivered her to her room he could scarcely summons the discipline to tear himself away. He analyzed the clutch she had upon his heart and the danger that loomed as a result of it. Perhaps he feared when left alone she would recover the memory of his face and it would conspire against him. He wanted to take her hand and run with her at his side into the corridors, but he dropped her hand instead and started to turn away.

She lunged against him and held him so tightly around the waist, her eyes squeezed shut, that he almost changed his mind and spirited her off, but good sense prevailed. With the performance nigh a day away there was work to be done. But her affectionate ways, and that she wanted him, even after she had seen, never ceased to amaze. He waited patiently for her to release him and then finally said "Tonight my love." She stood quietly and watched as the mirror closed behind him.

With single minded purpose, Erik rounded the doorway of Mme. Giry's office just as she was sitting down at her desk. His cloak whipped then slid down the doorframe to pester his ankles as he turned and dropped down in the chair next to her. His cloak stretched like a fan across the floor and draped one foot, quiescent. He stretched one leg long and planted the other beneath the chair as he said "You were right about Christine. I appreciate your observations. You're very perceptive. Though I still doubted, it somehow made it tolerable."

Mme. Giry looked satisfied as she said "That's what friends are for." Then her voice flattened as she said matter-of-factly, "Though it doesn't take a genius to see she is very much in love with you."

He smiled and replied earnestly "Well, I appreciate your help in the matter." She let her eyes meet his warmly one more time before turning to another topic.

"I've hired M. Gauthier and he is going to come in tomorrow to help get things ready for the next show, so we'll soon see what he can do."

"Yes, let's hope our suspicions are unfounded and his skill is as laudable as his credentials."

"Also," she interrupted, "I suggested to the managers that we decide the schedule after we see the Patron's response to tomorrow's performance. They were only too happy not to be bothered with details. What's your opinion?"

"You are a shrewd judge of the human element. I leave that to you, though we may be doing some fancy footwork to accommodate public sentiment. But I think we can manage it. Especially with the new hire."

Mme. Giry glanced at the time and said, "Oh, the hour grows late, I must go meet with my dancers. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"No. I think we've covered it."

"Very well. We'll meet again tomorrow to work the smallest details since they will no doubt appear today as the hour grows late since that is often the case."

He nodded and his lip curled down slightly with the seriousness of addressing the last minute details. She gave his shoulder a gentle pat as she walked past him, and then disappeared through the doorway, and he wondered again why he had not drawn support from their friendship much sooner.

Christine arrived at rehearsal as Mme. Giry and the dancers were blocking a particularly taxing choreography and trying to decide the best way to mesh Christine's tight schedule of arias with the dances when they solved the problem. To avoid a change of costume, Christine was to dance with the group of dancers and then emerge as the crowning glory to sing the solo.

Christine missed dancing with the girls, who had been friends since she had come to the opera house, and so was elated with the idea. The choreography took most of the afternoon to perfect. Erik stepped from the shadows in time to watch Christine move as one with the group of dancers, and then to see several girls sink to the floor like rose buds in a circle with Christine positioned in the center to rise from them like a rose in bloom. The circle around her lifted their arms in a large "O" above their heads, as each crossed one lithe leg over the other, and whirled until they stood encircling Christine. Slowly they dropped their arms one by one, as they walked long, halting steps around her, then each spun in a pirouette and left, one at time, leaving her standing alone. She began to sing.

She wore a black sash over scalloped red silk pants that hugged her body and she reminded Erik strikingly of the roses he gave her before she performed. She was the rose amidst the thorns in his life. And just like he gave her the roses willingly as a gift, she gave her love to him, willingly. He had forgotten how much her dancing enchanted him, but this new rendition reminded him anew. And it brought the memory of her bathing this morning, floating into his thoughts again. He savored the memory. A sudden desire to be with her flooded his heart.

As weariness encroached and the hour grew late, Christine glanced above searching for him. He stepped briefly from the shadows and motioned his hand quickly for her to come to him above. Mme. Giry's voice dismissing the dancers cut into her thoughts. "You did very well my dear" she said to Christine. "There is no doubt you will captivate your audience." She turned to the others and said "You all worked very hard today, thank you. I will see you tomorrow morning for a full dress rehearsal." Christine flew from her rehearsal and into the back corridors to find Erik.

As she climbed to the next floor Erik striding toward her with his cloak tumbling behind him met her eyes. When he reached her he grabbed her hand and said "Follow me, I want to show you something astonishing." The traversed the back passages leading to the roof and reached the door in time to leap back into the shadows as Carlotta and Piangi were entering the building together, engaged in lively conversation. Carlotta's arm entwined in Piangi's and she hung on his every word with rapt attention. Neither saw Erik or Christine. As soon as they passed Christine ran out, laughing, onto the roof. Erik strode out after her. She spread her arms wide with her head dropped back and whirled around. "Erik! It's like daylight out here!"

"I don't think I've ever seen a brighter moon. Look! The whole city looks as if it were bathed in an ethereal bluish light."

"It makes the city look so beautiful," she said as she stood staring. The swells of music again came up from below.

"Erik, can you hear it? They're playing a waltz. Will you waltz with me in the moonlight? I loved it so much when you waltzed with me before." Her face shown with such happiness that he could not resist her plea. Regally, he strode to her and swept his arm toward his chest in a deep bow, "My beautiful mademoiselle, may I have this dance?"

They came together and danced as if they were of one soul and one rhythm repeating what they had done in a thousand different lifetimes already. Their fit was like a hand in a glove. They whirled together without flaw around the whole area of the roof. Slowly he whirled her to a stop. "Your waltzing is unsurpassed," she said breathlessly, which summoned another thought into her head.

She grasped both of his hands, and looked thoughtfully into his eyes with her eyes shining, and asked shyly, "Have you thought any more about going to the Masked Ball with me? You said you would think on it."

He looked as if he were about to speak and then hesitated. She asked fearlessly, "What is it that worries you so?" Then she remembered the morning. She was afraid to ask but forced herself on, "Is what happened this morning the thing that worries you?"

His emerald eyes studied her face solemnly as he decided how best to answer and said, "Only in part. It's not only that I am ugly – and I despise my ugliness" he spat the words, "it's that – there is something else…" He held back.

"What is it?" she pressed him on. "It's – recognition." He had reached his hand to her face and was softly stroking her cheek with his thumb. "It's a dark, terrible story, one I'm not yet ready to tell." He knew he must tell her eventually, but feared dreadfully she would think him depraved and hate him. "But, in time you must know."

His eyes burned into hers. Forgetting all about her original question, she dropped her eyes under the power of his gaze and said gently, "It can wait until you are ready."

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight, he took her in his arms and pressed her tightly against him, weaving his fingers through her hair and kissing soft butterfly kisses against her curls. She let herself float in the sound of his breath against her ear, the fragrance of him she loved so much, and the firmness of his body against hers. He was intoxicating! It shocked her that it was possible, but she was falling even more deeply in love.

Dreamily she let her body relax against his.

"Christine? Christine?" His insistent voice pierced her thoughts. It worried him when she did this. "You're not going to faint on me again are you? How can I take you to a ball if you faint each time we dance?" An exaggerated seriousness mingled with the sound of his voice. She woke from her reverie, looked up at him and saw that he was peering down at her with one eyebrow arched. Laughter burst from her lips as she said emphatically "It's not the dance that makes me faint."

Adoration mingling with pride danced in her eyes. Puzzlement, followed rapidly by understanding and then amazement, flickered through his. Moonlight bathed them in a blue glow as he pulled her against his chest again and wrapped her in his arms, whispering in her ear with his voice almost solemn, "My dear, sweet Christine." He paused a moment before he finally said "Shall we?"

The lateness of the hour compelled her to suggest as they wandered down the winding stairs, "Let's not go to my dressing room for a change since I have to put my costume right back on in the morning anyway."

He looked doubtful as he glanced at the silk pants, and then frowned as he said "You'll slip right off the horse in those." Though the thought of his hand encircling her bare midriff tantalized him and weakened his resolve, though he feared it would distract him from the work that still stretched ahead. She pleaded, and he gave in. While on the horse she enjoyed the feel of his warm hand against her skin, and he the feel of her silken skin against his hand. And they both enjoyed the intimacy of it. But, just as he feared, neither one was in a working mood when they alighted from the boat.

They sat on the hearth by the flames and he offered her crusted bread, melted brie fired at the hearth, and rich Bordeaux wine. She was so hungry she eagerly relished every sumptuous bite. But the dearth of food during the day dangerously exaggerated the effects of the wine, which dulled her inhibitions recklessly and made her giddy, so Erik wasn't prepared for what followed. "No more wine for you," he said and grabbed the bottle by the neck to move it to the other side of the hearth as he watched her warily.

"Don't worry, one glass is enough for me," she said and giggled. "That glass was more like two, my love. One mustn't fill it till it brims the top!" he said with conviction, his eyes slightly large. They were about to get larger.

Erik continued, "We've been so busy with your singing, I'd forgotten how much I loved watching you dance, but seeing you today brought back all the memories.

"Yes, I've missed it," she said. Then she turned eyes that sparkled mischievously on him and said, "When I dance I dance only for you."

His head turned quickly and his eyes caught hers to decipher their meaning. The fire flickered off both their faces and lit the room seductively. She rose, walked a sultry walk and stood in front of him to cup her palms atop his shoulders as he sat on the hearth. He gazed up into her face, wrapped his hands around her waist, and pressed his lips in a gentle kiss against her midriff. The firelight undulated off her creamy bare skin. Her hips began to sway slowly first from one side, then to the other. Her arms began to lift on each side in perfect rhythm with her hips. This was definitely not the dance she did earlier, he thought as his eyes swept the length of her in appreciation.

Her hips subtly changed from side to side as she walked back from him, and he let his hands slide from her waist reluctantly as she moved away, his eyes riveted. Then she changed to sensual circles as she turned around in front of him while her arms slowly lifted and each clasped the other as she held them over her head. The contours of his face relaxed and changed from rapt interest to enthralled. Nothing, not even threat of death, could have pried his eyes from the rose that twisted and swayed before his eyes. When she came full circle she dropped her hands to her hips that still swayed, and walked exaggerated, beguiling steps, one foot crossing subtly over the other and then halting in turn, as she danced her way toward him – chin dropped, eyes under lashes fixed on his.

When she reached him, she moved her leg in an arc across his lap, interlaced her fingers behind his neck, and then sank down to face him. His fiery gaze followed hers as she sank down upon his lap. She said "A dance for your eyes only" and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his mouth with warm, tender lips. He sat motionless for a moment, surprised at her display, then, finally, his arms leaped around her and held her tightly.

He kissed her mouth passionately, his tongue parting her lips, and then kissed a heated path, whose sensation lingered, down her throat to the swells that rose enticingly above the low bodice of her costume. His breath was hot in his throat. Her head dropped back and her fingers slid into his hair to reveal her pleasure. While he crossed intermittently between the pleasure and pain of it all, he thought ruefully to himself, this is going to be a long, difficult night. That night, true to expectations, images of his Christine taunted him each time his eyes started to close in slumber while he held her lithe body against his as she slept. She was so beautiful! And he loved her so.

By the time morning came, Erik awoke heavy lidded and fatigued since he had barely slept. Christine on the other hand, had hardly even stirred after she tumbled into a deep, satisfying, slumber, so she awoke refreshed. But both slept beyond the required hour of rising so the morning was a frenzied preparation to leave since the performance was that night. When he took her to her room he lingered with her in his embrace, reluctant to release her. "Tonight I will come to you immediately after the performance," he reassured.

"Promise me?" she asked.

"Yes, my love."

But after the performance, Erik arrived as Raoul and his family were spiriting Christine from her dressing room to take her to a celebration dinner. Christine was employing every trick to stall, trying desperately to delay, but there was no way for her to get out of it since Raoul's father planned to bequeath the Opera Populaire a ridiculously magnanimous sum of money that night. When she was leaving with the family, she heard a subtle signal from Erik behind the mirror and turned toward it to mouth the words "Wait for me." Her eyes were full of longing.

It tortured Erik's heart, as he stood gazing from behind the mirror that protected him from the world that shunned him, but he knew there was nothing either of them could do to change things. He grit his teeth and decided he would come back later for her, since he couldn't stand to be without her the whole night through. As he stood watching, he saw Christine turn, rush back and bend to grasp the rose to take with her. The gesture warmed his heart and helped ameliorate some of the pain. He watched as she closed the door behind her and she formed her lips into a final parting kiss. He watched after her and then turned on his heel with his cloak tumbling steadfastly behind and strode away from the mirror, vanishing, like an apparition, into the dark corridors.