Chapter 11
"It will be an enormous project to restore the Opera Populaire. Unfortunately, it is in rather poor shape. Why, I believe I am the only one who has dared to even take on such a challenge…,"
Erik tilted his head as he studied Monsieur Murrell while he rambled on about his plans for the opera house. The man was fairly short and spoke in an arrogant tone of voice. He was dressed in his finest but the little man was so plump that the buttons on his double-breasted coat looked as if they were going to pop off at any moment.
"And so I think this project will take quite some time, maybe even a few years," Monsieur Murrell finally finished.
Erik responded in a bored tone. "With you on the project I can see why."
Raoul, who was standing next to Monsieur Murrell, shifted in his stance, obviously concerned that Erik was not going to be cooperative in this conversation.
Not that he even gave a damn.
Erik's mind was on Rashida in the stable. Hamid had not seen anything and Erik trusted him. But that did not mean the spy may still be hiding somewhere nearby or even in one of the servant's rooms. At least the man was wounded, making it unlikely that he would be in any shape to fight. Maybe he was even dead. Still, Erik was not going to take any chances. As soon as this conversation was over he would head right back out to the stable.
And this conversation was definitely going to be over soon.
Monsieur Murrell was taken aback by Erik's blunt reply and his face tightened. "You think you could restore the theater faster?"
Alexandria had left the room a while ago to prepare tea. So naturally Erik took great pleasure in saying whatever he wanted. "I could easily build a new opera house in the amount of time it will take you to restore the Opera Populaire."
Raoul's perfect face went into a scowl. "He is only sharing with you his ideas."
"Really?" asked Erik as he looked at Monsieur Murrell. "Those are what you call ideas?"
"Well," he replied in a gruff voice, "Perhaps you should take on the project."
Raoul looked at Erik. "Actually…we were going to ask if you could at least assist-,"
Erik narrowed his eyes. "Assist someone on a project?"
"Well whenever I asked you about the opera house you always said you were too busy. I thought by placing Monsieur Murrell in charge it would help things," replied Raoul coolly.
Erik gave a low laugh. "With him in charge there is no possible way that it could help things."
Monsieur Murrell's face turned red. "I will have you know that I am well known in this city for a number of my works!"
"As in how?" asked Erik with a hint of laughter in his voice.
"As in his creations have been highly praised," came Alexandria's sweet voice from the kitchen doorway.
Damn it.
Raoul beamed. "She is quite right. Monsieur Murrell has been highly revered for his talents."
Alexandria came to stand next to Erik as she handed Raoul a cup of tea. "And because he is meticulous, I am sure that is why the timeline will be so long."
Oh great. She had heard their conversation. When Raoul and the little fat man left he would be in trouble for certain.
To make matters worse, she looked up at him. "And for someone who has worked on a much larger project such as a palace, I am sure you can give Monsieur Murrell some advice on how to accomplish so many things within the Opera House."
He looked down and glared at her.
Only to receive a lovely smile in return.
Even more annoying, Erik felt his heart flip in reaction. He silently used every curse word he knew. After all this time he was still deeply in love with her which meant she usually got whatever she wanted.
Monsieur Murrell also seemed charmed by her presence and smiled at her. "Your husband worked on a palace?"
"Actually," she replied with a warm tone, "He built it."
"Really?" he asked in surprise.
Raoul naturally chimed in. "Yes, he worked for the sultan of the Ottomans."
Monsieur Murrell's eyebrows rose. "Well that is impressive!" His eyes seemed to take on a gleam as he looked back at Erik. "Is it true that a sultan has over a hundred wives?"
Erik stiffened while Alexandria gave a slight laugh. "No, Monsieur," she replied, "That would only be a small example of how many women are in his harem."
Monsieur Murrell shook his head. "What I would not give to be in such a position!" He chuckled and patted Raoul on the shoulder. "To bad the city of Paris does not allow such a thing with women here, eh?"
By now Raoul had stopped smiling which was wise as Erik was beginning to lose his temper with this subject. The thought of the sultan and how he treated women, specifically Alexandria, was almost too much to think about.
But of course, stupidly Monsieur Murrell continued. "So that must explain your origin my dear," he said looking at Alexandria far too closely. "Why, I would not be surprised if you were a gift to Erik from the sultan himself!" He chuckled again. "Although…no matter how beautiful that palace must be, I cannot see how he gave up a creature as lovely as you."
Erik took a dangerous step toward Monsieur Murrell in anger before Raoul quickly stepped in front of him. "If you will excuse us," said the Count de Chagny in a smooth voice, "I need to talk in private with Erik about a few business items."
If not for Alexandria in the room, Erik would not have been a gentleman. Every instinct inside him roared to choke the neck of Monsieur Murrell.
Then again, his neck was so fat Erik's fingers probably could not fit around it.
So the Punjab lasso would do nicely as an alternative.
Raoul lightly pushed Erik into the nearby dining room. Once out of sight, Erik whipped around and glared at him. "If you think I am going to leave my wife alone with that fat-,"
"Erik," interrupted Raoul in his usual calm voice, "Be reasonable."
"Excuse me? You take on a business deal with my son that I know nothing about and then brought this mad man to destroy the inside of the opera house? And you want me to be reasonable?"
Raoul was about to say something when they heard the back door slam shut. Erik moved past Raoul and headed into the glass atrium in the back of the house. He found Hamid muttering something and taking off his coat.
"Where is Rashida?" Erik snapped. "I thought I told you not to leave her alone in the stable!"
Hamid frowned at him. "She took Lement out for a ride."
"In the rain?"
Hamid reacted with a puzzled look. "It has stopped raining. Have you not noticed?" His face suddenly grew serious as he saw Raoul join them. "Oh please do not tell me you have been insulting Monsieur Murrell this whole time!"
Raoul nodded. "I am glad you are here. I already had to hold back your father from killing the man."
Erik grabbed his cloak. "I shall remove myself from the temptation," he grumbled.
"Wait!" said Hamid. "Where are you going?"
"Back out to the stable," Erik replied as he placed his hand on the doorknob to leave.
Hamid rushed forward and grabbed Erik's arm. "But I need you…,"
Erik stared at him. "And why is that?"
"I just…," Hamid shifted awkwardly. "I-I would like your opinion on some things for the studio."
Raoul looked surprise. "But Hamid, I thought you said you wanted to do this on you own and-,"
"Yes but it does not hurt to have his opinion," said Hamid quickly.
Erik hesitated. With Rashida out riding, this was his opportunity to do a thorough search of the stable and the surrounding area. But the temptation to put Raoul in his place when it came to Hamid was more than tempting.
"Please?" asked Hamid, his eyes looking hopeful.
Erik sighed. "Very well."
---
Rashida gasped as Raja's hands tightened around her waist. They were riding on Lement and she was sitting in front of Raja as he leaned forward against her, his head now on her shoulder. She pulled on the reins to steady Lement as the horse made his way through the thick mud on the ground. They were headed toward a small cottage a few miles away. It was owned by an uncle of her friend Nicole. Rashida remembered that she had bragged about him being quite wealthy and that he owned several properties. Nicole had told her that during this time of the year he was usually in Italy.
Or at least Rashida hoped that was the case.
She had no where else to go and she knew her father would return to search the stable. Her only hope was to try and find this cottage so that she could keep Raja safe.
Not that she had any idea why the hell she was doing any of this.
Yes, he saved her from the carriage, but what if Hamid was right? What if really Raja was in more trouble than he even admitted? Or what if he had really been trying to kill her father so he could take her to the prince?
The thought of her father made her angry. Why did he not tell her all this? How could this have happened? She found it impossible to believe that her father would willingly arrange such a marriage. His reaction about the topic of marriage made her realize that it must have been some forced arrangement. But why did he not tell her?
She gripped the reins tighter. Her father had been trying to protect her of course. Most likely he did not want her to know anything. Her chest tightened at the thought that he had to be the one killing the foreigners Raja talked about. She never paid any attention to recent news events and when she returned to school it was certainly going to be one of the first things she would confirm.
Raja gave a soft groan and she knew he was in a lot of pain. Riding on the back of a horse in his condition must be agonizing.
But it was better than death from her father or the prince.
Rashida was relieved when she finally made out a small cottage in the distance. She urged Lement forward and soon they were in front of the quaint house. She hesitated in getting off the horse, uncertain if Raja had the strength to stay on without her.
"Go," he said hoarsely. "I can hold on."
Slowly he released her waist and Rashida slid off Lement. She walked toward the house and peered into one of the front windows. Inside it was dark but she could make out the sheets that covered the furniture inside. It was a sure sign that indeed it had been vacated for some time. From under her dress, she withdrew a knife and began to work on the lock to the door. Long ago, her father had taught her all about how to open every lock imaginable. Back then she thought it was just fun but now she began to wonder if he had taught her such skills for another reason.
Like escaping from the son of a sultan.
Just as she picked the lock, Rashida heard a thud that had her whirling back around. In horror she saw that Raja had fallen off Lement and was face down on the muddy ground. She ran over to him and kneeled down. Cautiously she rolled him over and he moaned. He appeared to be just dazed.
Thunder boomed in the distance and she knew it was going to rain again. "We have to get you inside," Rashida said as she desperately tried to have him sit up. But he outweighed her and she could not get him to move.
Rashida suddenly became angry. "Get up! I cannot do this by myself!" His eyes remained closed. "I said get up! I know you are weak but you have to try! Get up!"
Raja's eyes snapped open. "I am not weak," he mumbled.
A thought popped into her mind and she stopped helping him. Instead, Rashida stood over him and placed her hands on her hips. She shook her head. "You are weak. Look at you! To think I believed that you protected a prince for God's sake! And now you say you are not weak. It amazes me how stupid men can be at times."
He frowned. "Men such as me are never weak. It is women who are weak!"
Oh now that got her blood pumping. "Well," she replied in a smug tone, "At least I can stand on my own two feet!"
Raja's eyes narrowed. "You do not have a knife wound!"
"True," she replied. "Which makes me stronger than you."
His eyes flashed in annoyance. Gritting his teeth, Raja pushed his hands on the ground and painfully sat up. He glared at her. "I am not weak. Do not ever call me that again or you will be punished."
"I am so frightened, truly, I am," she replied with sarcasm. She reached out her hand to him. "Now get up!"
Raja drew a deep breath and grabbed her hand. Slowly, painfully he finally stood up as she pulled him with all her weight. He swayed and Rashida quickly placed his arm around her shoulder.
"I cannot believe I am doing this!" Rashida said as she shook her head. She got the door open and led him inside.
The house was dark but she found one of the bedrooms and laid him down on a bed. She searched through the house and found an oil lamp with matches. When she returned to the bedroom with the light, she stopped cold when she saw Raja removing his pants.
"What are you doing?" she asked in alarm.
"What does it look like I am doing?" he answered gruffly as he tossed the pants on the floor.
Oh God.
He had nothing on underneath and she had never seen a man fully nude before. Rashida swallowed hard. "It…it is freezing in here. Put those back on."
"The material is rubbing against the wound on my hip. It hurts and it feels much better now that my pants are off." Exhausted, he leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes.
Rashida knew her cheeks were red. She could not help looking at what she knew was his manhood between his legs. She had heard other girls giggle and talk about such things. But never did she actually think she would see it!
Spotting a blanket on a chair across the room, she averted her eyes and grabbed it with her free hand. Setting the lamp down, she quickly placed it over him.
"Thank you." His eyes were open again.
She nodded; still embarrassed at what she had seen when he appeared to have no sense of modesty at all. "I have to go."
His eyes widened. "You will come back, yes?"
"I-,"
"With food? Just for a few days until I heal? Then I can return to my prince."
"Will he not be angry?"
"He does not know I was with you. I will tell him I was attacked which he will understand as some of our other men have been killed."
Her stomach tightened. "You mean you will tell him that my father attacked you?"
Raja was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "I do not have to say it was him…in fact, it might be better if I do not. That way there is no suspicion that I was anywhere near you."
"I thought you were a spy."
"Your brother said I was a spy. I told you…I protect the prince as one of his men."
"So how will you explain the reason as to why you left?"
He sighed. "My men…I mean, the men are allowed to have some free time to themselves."
Rashida stiffened. "Why did you say 'my men'?"
Raja shrugged. "I lead them."
"I find that hard to believe…you are too young."
"One follows in his father's footsteps from where I come. My father is a leader and therefore so am I. Sons take on the roles of their father without question from others."
"Is your father here?"
"No," Raja said softly. "He is…at home."
"Do you have other brothers and sisters?"
He gave a soft laugh. "I have a younger brother. One who is much more arrogant I can assure you."
Rashida could not help herself and smiled. "I find that hard to believe."
"It is true. He is more like our father."
"But you are the oldest so you have to be the leader."
"Yes."
She noticed his eyes were growing heavy. She had so much more that she wanted to ask him, especially about her arranged marriage to the prince. But she would have to wait. "Go to sleep," she said softly. "I will return tomorrow."
"Thank you…Rashida."
She quietly left the bedroom and walked into the living room where she saw a fireplace. She wanted to make a fire but worried that the rising smoke from the chimney could catch someone's attention, especially if others nearby knew Nicole's uncle was away. The blanket she had placed on him was quite heavy, so hopefully he would be fine.
Oh hell, why was she even worried about him? He was an arrogant soldier that had gone against his prince as he wanted her. And it was obvious he thought very little of women other than to own them.
She left the house and walked to Lement who was eagerly waiting for her as he pawed through the mud and dipped his head down. She stroked his nose and patted his neck.
"I wish all men were like you Lement," she whispered. "You only want to please and serve me. It seems other men only want me to serve them." She thought of her father. "Or protect me when they should be setting me free." Rashida sighed heavily as Lement reached out to nuzzle her with his head. She gave him one final pat, mounted him, and rode him at a fast pace to get home before the rain came down once more.
