Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted, but it was my birthday so I got a little sidetracked, but here's the chapter I promised so read, review and most of all, enjoy!

Erik felt his heart drop at the sight of Christine. The look in her eyes, the confusion, the questioning, shamed him. He turned away from her for a moment, removing his hands from Elita's womb. The moment he let go, he was assaulted with an instant sense of painful emptiness. Elita was watching Christine, not understanding.

Sighing, Erik forced himself to stand and face her.

Christine felt frozen, as if the ground beneath her feet was tilting and she had no way to right herself. She could only watch as Erik leaned down to mutter something, some French platitude, into the ear of the pregnant stranger. Who was she? Why was she here, why was she here?!

The strange woman nodded and moved away from the fireplace to take a seat on the sofa, her dark eyes simply watching curiously as Erik approached her. Christine brought her eyes away from the woman to focus on Erik as he moved across the room to her. Her heart lurched to see that his golden eyes were wet and slightly red behind the mask; that Erik had been brought to tears was alarming, but it was the circumstances that brought his tears which frightened her.

He came closer, his voice tight with controlled emotion. She could see his eyes becoming steely as he spoke, truly impenetrable. Erik was trying, desperately, to shut himself off to her, with Christine powerless to stop him. In mere moments, the man was gone, and he was Shalimar's great cold king once again. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "Christine. I need you to go upstairs to your room, please. Just until Elita and I have finished speaking."

Elita?

His lover...

She glared at him. "You want me to-"

"Christine." His voice was firm. He was commanding her now, in no way would he allow her to argue. "Go upstairs."

Angry with him for ordering her, dismissing her, Christine brushed past him and ran up the stairs, slamming the door to her room and feeling like a punished child. But no; it was not Erik sending her away that had her upset. That woman- and her child...

Christine could only assume that it was Erik's child the woman was carrying. Why else would she have come here? Why else would they have both been in tears when Christine had stumbled in on them?

And Erik.

Christine had seen the brightness of tears in his eyes just before he'd turned and seen her. His tears had been...happiness? Pride?

Love?

Christine sank onto her bed, her knuckles clinging to the thick eiderdown blanket as she forced herself to remain in control of herself. Is that woman carrying Erik's child? His baby...how long has he known? Has he known?

Her mind chased all possible scenarios, each more horrible than the next, but all of them ultimately resulting in Erik turning away from her to embrace the family he'd dreamed of for so long.

Would he do that to her? To himself?

Christine shivered, suddenly very cold. Truly, she didn't know what Erik would do.

She had paced up and down the room for what seemed like years, though in actuality she had remained in her room for only an hour. On the other side of the door, Christine could hear Erik and the woman speaking together on the floor below. At any other time she might had tried eavesdropping, but as the pair were speaking French it would be pointless.

Sinking down onto her bed, Christine took up her Palm Pilot and found a message from Belinda.

'How are things with you and loverboy? He give you the crown yet?'

A swell of emotion came over Christine at the glib message. She set the device back onto the nightstand and laid back onto the mattress. What could she type as a reply? Everything was up in the air- her future with Erik was unwritten, any mention of it at all seemed to be hinting at a future that would never be. A fresh swell of tears trailed down her face, and this time Christine made no effort to swipe them from her cheeks.

She laid back, silent in her sobbing, waiting for the worst, for Erik to come to her and announce his marriage to the strange woman downstairs.

Slowly, Christine blinked herself awake, lost for a moment with no sense of sight or time. Immediately, her memory returned, and she started into full alertness.

Erik, Elita...their child?

Turning, Christine realized that she was not alone in the room. Silhouetted by the dim light of the window, Christine could just make out the shape of Shalimar's lonely king. Erik was sitting on the corner of the bed, bent, resting his elbows over his knees. His head was bowed in deep thought. He must have been the one to turn off the overhead light and put the blanket over her.

How long had he been sitting there?

Swallowing, Christine moved to sit up. "Erik."

He raised his head but did not turn to her. "I thought you were asleep."

She shifted closer to him on the bed. "I was. I'm not sure what woke me. Is...are you all right?"

Slowly, he straightened his back until he was sitting upright. "Why not just ask me what you really want to know?"

Christine frowned and rolled her eyes slightly at his evasive attitude. "Fine then. Is the child she's carrying yours, Erik?"

A long silence followed.

Erik sighed. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't, and neither does she."

Growing angry, Christine threw the blanket off of her and she rose to stand before him. "How could she not know? What kind of woman is she, Erik, to have had so many men that she can't recall which one made her pregnant?"

He stood up, his voice level, yet commanding once more. "It wasn't like that."

Sensing his tension, Christine reluctantly backed down. She sighed lightly. "How long were you in here?"

"Elita has been gone for a few hours already. I took a walk after she'd gone, trying to clear my mind."

Carefully, Christine reached forward into the dark towards the large shape that was Erik. "And now? Is your mind clear?"

His hand closed over hers, and he drew her in closer to him. His arms twined around her waist, molding their bodies together in the night. Christine sighed and leaned her cheek against his shoulder, her heart aching for him and dreading whatever choice he would make.

Erik tugged on a lock of her hair. "My mind is as cluttered as it always has been. I was happy before Elita came to see me, when it was just you and I, and my only concern was how I could convince you to come live with me."

Christine pulled back. "You would have asked me to live with you?"

"After I formally abdicated to Kumar, yes."

Dread formed a stone in the pit of her stomach. "And now?"

Erik was silent for a time. "Christine. The child could be mine. Elita isn't sure, and she was afraid to tell me. She said that she wanted to tell me face to face. I haven't been back in France since the last night we spent together. The child could be mine, " he repeated. "If it is mine, I have a responsibility to that child that will come before everything. Do you understand?"

Christine nodded, afraid to speak for her tears.

He took a ragged breath and seemed suddenly filled with restless energy. In the dark, he began to pace the length of the room. "I am not my father, I'm nothing like him. I will not father a child and then ignore the fact- this isn't what I wanted, Christine, but if the child is mine-"

"I know what you'll have to do, Erik. I understand."

It was unspoken, the Shaliman custom hung in the air between them- Erik would propose to marry the mother of his first child to make the birth legitimate, regardless of his feelings toward the woman. It was a matter of honor and responsibility; as a result of carelessness by a corrupt, selfish man, Erik understood the importance of a father in a child's life better than most.

He had spent most of his life in Shalimar, its customs were a part of Erik now, however Christine doubted that his choice would be any different if he was not king.

Erik's honor as a man was at stake; he had spent his life trying to prove that he was a better man than his father, now that he was faced with the same situation that had burdened Bhaskar nearly thirty years before, Erik could not allow himself to fail.

He sighed against the side of her neck, unintentionally sending a shiver of arousal down her spine. "I didn't want this," he said again, almost as if to himself. "There is only one month left. I would have requested a paternity test, but...Christine, Elita has been through enough. In any case, we'll know once the child is born, whether it is mine or not."

Christine held him close. "And what is to happen until then, Erik?"

He stepped back from her then, his hands on her narrow shoulders, holding her at arm's length. "If this child is mine, I must be there for her."

So it was, Christine relented to Erik's decision. What could she do? Demand that he ignore what could be his child? No. Christine knew that she could not ask Erik to do such a thing, and she knew that he would never do anything so cowardly. Erik was not his father.

Christine knew he was not asleep.

Erik was breathing deeply, but Christine could see his fingers drumming lightly over his stomach. He was staring up to the ceiling, no doubt his thoughts were filled with visions of a child that could be his, and the new life he would be obligated to begin with Elita. Christine felt a tear slip down her cheek as her chest clenched at the thought of him marrying the woman.

She had been so sure that they would begin a life together, the life they were meant to have, where she could fulfill Erik's every longing and he would finally turn to her and say that she was loved. It hurt too much to picture that life now, it was a future that might never happen. Carefully, Christine shifted her weight. If she got up and went back to her own room, would Erik try to stop her? Would he even notice?

She cleared her throat. "Erik?"

"Yes?"

"What does Elita want from you?" She asked.

There was a silence, but finally Erik turned on to his side to face her. In turning, she could not see his eyes behind the mask, though she could feel his gaze on her. His hand reached forward, Christine closed her eyes at the feel of his fingertips on the curve of her cheek. "She explained things to me. If this child is mine, she will want me involved. Even if she didn't want my involvement, I would have forced my way; if it's mine, I can't abandon the baby."

Christine began to stroke his arm. "I know you wouldn't, Erik. How did this happen?"

He sighed. "I'd been able to come back to France for just a few days, just after finishing a peace treaty...we spent most of those days together, without leaving my loft." Erik explained delicately. "The timing is right. It might be my baby."

The truth hurt. Christine let out a breath. "You said she wasn't sure."

He brought her closer. "Yes. Three weeks after I'd gone back to Shalimar, there was a party. Elita and a friend took in more wine that was wise, and ended up back at his apartment."

"Weren't you...careful?" Christine asked.

Erik hesitated. "For the most part, yes. It was just that last time...her friend hadn't fared much better on their night together. I have no excuse, I should have resisted or just been more careful. If this baby is mine, I do intend to take every responsibility." He finished.

Christine didn't have to ask what he meant by that.

"We will be there for the birth, David and I," Erik said, meaning the other man in question. "We will know at first viewing who the father is. You know I am obligated to ask Elita to be my wife, though I doubt she would accept me."

"Why?"

"I told her about you, Christine. She could already tell when you walked in earlier tonight that you were my lover."

It was stupid, but Christine found hersel wishing that he would call her my love, as he had in the past.

"Elita has no wish to ruin what's been built between us, Christine. She wants me to be happy, but for the sake of the child I must..."

Christine nodded and moved to kiss him, only just brushing his lips with her own. "I understand."

"This child-"

"I said I understand, Erik." Christine repeated firmly. She kissed him again when he tried to speak, harder this time, drowning out all thought of responsibility, obligation and dread.

There was only Christine now, only Christine in his bed and his life. Erik brought his hands to cup her face, holding her still so that he could take control. There was a new, powerful urge welling up from deep within, the desire to dominate her completely, to burn himself into her body and memory.

Their first time together had been gentle, but the need for tenderness was fading in the heat of his desperation. Erik kissed her harder, harder, taking her wrists and pinning them down to the bed on either side of her head. He came over her like a lion, losing his mind in the need to take her. Christine sensed the change in him, the anger, the frustration and the need for release; she put up no resistence when his hand moved to her breasts, kneading them firmly and then dipping his head to taste and even bite at her.

This was a different Erik than the man she had known the night before.

Christine was growing heated at his touch, it was her only desire to please him, to ease his burdens even if only for a short time. Erik growled against her throat, and moved himself between her legs. He plunged his body into hers, relishing the heat of her body around his own. The breath caught in her throat, and it felt to her that there was a heavy weight bearing down on her, but Christine would not groan her pain for anything.

Erik began to move against her then, without a word. It was slow at first, and despite it all Christine could feel the fire rising up within her own body as Erik began to move faster and harder against her. His body roared with power, driving her higher and harder against the bed, breathing her scent, drowning in her very being.

It was over quickly, and ended with the both of them panting hard like animals, still shuddering with harsh pleasure.

After a time, Erik lifted his head and touched her kiss-bruised lips with his own. He gathered her against him and said, very softly, "Whatever happens, Christine, you are mine."

Christine did not argue, for she knew it was true.