A/N Yep. Another long one ;)
"Land's sake, Christine! I thought you would have had your fill of gettin' on the back of a horse! And for the two of you to go traipsin'off like that is hardly appropriate. You're not married yet!" Hannah rinsed her cleaning rag in a bucket of sudsy water, and turned to the girl. "Whatever is that man thinkin'?"
"That I need more time in the saddle perhaps?"
"For what reason?" Hannah scoffed, as she scrubbed vigorously at a shelf. "To give you another set of saddle sores to rival the last ones?"
"That was different," she replied mildly. "Erik didn't cause them. They did," reminding Hannah of her grim ride with the bank robbers last year. Something that Christine had worked hard to forget. She hadn't, of course, but it was getting easier as time went on.
They were both in the kitchen, Hannah washing shelves, and Christine eating some bread and jam before leaving for rehearsal. Meg was visiting with Mrs. de Chagny as she often did since Raoul's father died. The two women had become friends, and Emily de Chagny was quick to encourage her son to spend more of his time with Meg. Which he did when he wasn't working at his father's old law firm in town, clerking for the summer.
Christine shrugged as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. "To be honest, I would like to try again. Erik is such a good horseman, and I want to accompany him and hold my own. I've had rehearsals all week, but now that Friday is here, we're going to go for a short ride tomorrow." She looked out the window and spied a familiar figure leading Figaro into the carriage house next door. She glanced over at the housekeeper. "No one will see us. After all, it's not as if we're riding through the middle of town! Besides, you needn't worry about Erik, Hannah. He's been a perfect gentleman."
"It's not Erik I'm worried about," she muttered under her breath, but said nothing more.
Christine had resumed her place at the opera house, and the production they were currently working on was The Magic Flute. She was Pamina, the young, beautiful daughter of the Queen of the Night. It would have gone to Julia, but with Christine's return, Erik insisted that she take back her rightful place. She had argued with him over it, not wanting bad blood between her and the other woman, even requesting another part, such was her wish not to push anyone out of their niche in the company. But he was adamant. Their disagreement had nearly become a fight; Erik was much too used to getting his own way, and finally to keep peace between them, she gave up.
Julia seemed to take it in stride and remained friendly toward her, as did the rest of the company, but occasionally she caught a look in the other woman's eyes that bordered on resentment. Carlotta remained the reigning diva for now, but she cringed at what would happen when her teacher decided it was time for her to step into that role. Morosely, she realized that she would have to watch her back. Erik might be familiar with the habits of the criminal mind, but she rather thought he was clueless about a woman's thinking. Especially an angry one. Besides, he merely hid in the shadows; no one at the opera house even knew he owned it, so they certainly wouldn't blame him for his choices.
Which in turn made her wonder how he had kept Becky from telling one and all what she knew. She didn't think he would have said, pretty please...don't tell. No, he would have threatened her with bodily harm. She snickered. Which is why the jezebel decided a traveling troupe would be perfect, no doubt.
Only Nadir, Hannah, and Meg knew of her engagement. For the time being, she wore the beautiful ring Erik gave her on a chain around her neck. It pained her to do it, but it was to keep his privacy until the day when or even if he decided to appear in public and announce his ownership of the opera house. Once they were married there would be talk; it was inevitable given the circumstances, but as gossip usually did, it would eventually die down. It was to be a very private wedding with only those close to them, then she would move into Archer House and begin her married life. Hannah would stay in her aunt's house; it was as much hers and Meg's home as it was Christine's.
Raoul had gone back to school. His brother Philippe had returned home to preside over his mother's household and become a junior partner in his father's old law firm. Meg was patiently waiting for him to finish his remaining year at college, and then he would be coming home for good, and apprenticing with Philippe when the senior partner in the firm retired. She told Christine that the two of them had decided not to see others; Meg related it to her after he returned her home from an afternoon buggy ride.
"He kissed me!" she announced proudly, her brown eyes soft and luminous.
Christine hugged her friend, glad for her. She was happy and in love, and wanted the whole world to be happy as well.
"He asked about you. He said he hasn't seen very much of you since your illness." She smiled hesitantly at her friend. "He's curious about Erik, Christine. I wasn't really sure what to say so I didn't say anything. Was...was that all right?"
She shrugged. "I never know myself how much Erik wants anyone to know. As little as possible, I suppose." She knew if it was left to her she would be very vocal about his talent and skill. "I love and accept him, but I know people will be curious about my husband after we're married. I'll just have to tell them that he isn't comfortable around others- that he doesn't go out much and leave it at that."
That's what she thought then, but how Erik would juggle married life with his reclusive ways was a question to which she would like the answer. She wanted to share everything with him and hoped he felt the same. And she wanted it soon.
After a last hurried sip of coffee, she put on her hat, fixing it at the hall mirror with pins. She said goodbye to Hannah, walking next door to Archer's to find Erik hitching Figaro to the buggy. His thin back to her, he was coatless, his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows revealing pale wiry arms. With a grin, she tiptoed up to him, slipping her arms around him from behind.
"Good morning, Christine," he murmured, as she placed her cheek against his back and folded her hands over his taut stomach.
She giggled. "How did you know it was me?"
He kept working on the harness, but answered her smoothly, "It certainly wasn't easy, you know. There were many candidates, but I was able to narrow it down to only a few. Since you are leaving for town soon, it wasn't difficult to make you my first guess."
"Now I am one of a few? How many ladies are you juggling, sir? I'll have you know, if anyone else decides to put their arms around you just so," and to his delight, she bravely slid her hands underneath his waistcoat, tightening her hold on him, "then I'll have to give them a piece of my mind, won't I?" She particularly loved it when he was lighthearted enough to tease her. There had been very little happiness in his life and she longed to change that.
He chuckled, but finished with the gelding before turning in her arms and pulling her close, to which she gasped, "My hat! It took me forever to get it pinned just right." As if to counter her words, she reached up and twined her arms around his neck, bringing his head down to her level and kissing him. She moved her mouth slowly over his, enjoying the feel of his cool lips on hers.
Erik slid his hands up from Christine's waist, the tips of his fingers lightly and very delicately touching the outside swell of her breasts. His mouth went dry at the thought of what delights her clothing hid from his view. They would one day be his, and it couldn't be soon enough. Kissing was a new and wondrous addition to his life; the touches she bestowed on him so freely and permitted him in return, fed his days with a fledgling joy, and his nights with dreams of silken thighs parting eagerly just for him. He was holding himself on a very tight rein, albeit one which slackened a bit more each time they were together.
He kissed her again, nuzzling her throat. "Marry me soon, dear, before I expire from a surfeit of love," his voice husky as he stepped away from her too-willing arms.
She roguishly cut her eyes up at him. "I intend to do just that. How does marrying me on my birthday sound? That's only two weeks away. Soon enough for you, Maestro?"
"No," he said glumly, "but it will have to do."
She laughed at his mournful tone, and ran her fingers through his hair. "There is just no pleasing you, is there? Well, all right." She put a finger to her lip and tapped it thoughtfully. "How does February 14th of next year sound to you? That's Saint Valentine's Day, and what better way to acknowledge it than a wedding! It's only a few more months to wait, and..."
For an answer he picked up Christine and spun her around, only standing her back on her feet when she laughingly began to protest. He kept her in his arms, unwilling to let go just yet. "And how is that any better? I cannot wait two weeks, let alone two months! I won't last until February!"
She hugged him tightly. "Neither will I," she whispered, looking up at him with a grin of triumph. "Two weeks sound better to you now?"
"Yes," he grudgingly admitted as he helped Christine into the buggy and handed her the reins.
She nearly laughed again at his grievous air, but managed to stifle it. It wouldn't do to push her man too far.
"There now. Did I muss your hat very badly?" Erik asked, as he stood back, hands on narrow hips and eyed her critically.
"Of course you didn't. I was only teasing you." She smiled. "Never let my hat stop you from hugging me!"
He leaned in and kissed her one last time. "Be careful driving in. I have some work to finish up, so I will be here for the day. But do me a favor, will you?"
"You won't be there at all?" It was Christine's turn to look glum.
His hand covered hers briefly. "You will miss me?" and cringed at the wistfulness in his tone. He was getting needier by the day.
"Of course I will. So you better have a good reason for staying home today! And yes, I'll gladly do you a favor. What is it?"
"Pick up a package for me at Sidwell's Emporium on your way home," and he stepped back as the buggy left the carriage house at a walk.
"You didn't forget about tomorrow, did you?" he called after her.
"How could I?" she said over her shoulder. "I've been counting the hours until I get you alone. And don't worry, I'll stop in at Sidwell's on my way home."
He watched her as the buggy went down the drive at a smart clip, his ghastly face beneath the mask, flushed with pleasure at her words. She wanted to be with him and that knowledge still had the power to move him.
He was re-doing the master bedroom for her. Once they were married, she could change it if she cared to. She could change the entire house if it was her wish, but until then he intended to make it more welcoming for her. He certainly wasn't an authority on what women enjoyed, but judging by Mrs. Cole's often snide comments, which she made thinking he couldn't hear them, Christine wouldn't be gratified to find his bedchamber so lacking in color. It had always suited his needs and matched his dark thoughts, but that had changed somewhat. The girl had already done much to lighten his mood, and perhaps it would continue.
Perhaps.
Unfortunately, he had never been a cheerful individual. Events in his life had managed to knock the joie de vivre clean out of it, his nature along with his face, more suited to the macabre; nevertheless, he would make certain she never had cause to regret marrying him.
He wanted Christine comfortable in her new home, and most assuredly in the room where he longed to have her all to himself. The flocked wallpaper he had chosen was a floral design in shades of pink, blue, yellow and green, with an olive-wood and silver background; the carpets would be a dusky rose and gray-blue floral. No dreary black for his wife. His wife, by God! He would have the room papered by mid-afternoon, but he still wanted nothing more than to be with her at the opera house today. His steps were slow as he made his way inside the house and up to the second floor.
She picked up the package at Sidwell's Emporium, and couldn't help but be curious about the large box. She hefted it onto the buggy seat and got in, anxious to get home, but first she needed to make arrangements for the piano which had arrived by train just a few days ago. After recovering from her illness, she wrote Mrs. Guthrie about shipping it to her, and Raoul had handled the details. She had thought to have it repaired and tuned before giving it to Erik as a wedding gift, but realized that he would no doubt like to do the work himself. He was a prodigiously accomplished man, and for that reason alone, wasn't always satisfied with someone else's work.
She finished at the freight office quickly, making arrangements to have the piano delivered the day of their wedding. The challenge of restoring the old piano would keep him busy for a good while, and she could hardly wait for his reaction to it.
The day was a beautiful one for fall, the blackjack oaks showy with their crown of reddish orange leaves, and the mockernut hickories, not to be outdone, blazed with glorious shades of gold. Along the roadside, purple bittersweet nightshade and delicate Queen Anne's lace grew in abundance. It was warm for this time of the year and she was excited about their ride tomorrow, hoping the lovely weather would hold a little longer. Christine turned in Archer's neat, gravel drive and walked Figaro through the large double doors of the carriage house. She started to unhitch the gelding when Nadir showed up and took over for her.
"Go on into the library. He is waiting for you."
She grabbed the box from the seat. "You're a dear. Did you know that?"
He winked at her. "No, I did not. No one has ever seen fit to share that information with me. You are the first."
Christine shook her head and gave him a look of disbelief. "And here I thought it would have been Hannah. I'm shocked!" She laughed at his look of consternation, and entered the house, making her way to the library where she found Erik writing at his desk. He stood as she came through the open doors and approached him with the box.
"Here you are! As promised." She handed it to him, and he immediately set it down on the desk and reached for her.
"I have been waiting for this ever since you left me this morning."
"I brought it as soon as I could," she protested, as he drew her closer.
"Not that package," he murmured, dismissing the box and nudging her chin up. "This one," and dipped his head to hers, kissing her deeply.
With a sigh, her arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer. She buried her fingers in his black hair, lightly skimming over the ties of his mask, lost to everything except the gathering ball of heat pooling in her belly. She was startled when the sound of footsteps going down the hall intruded into their very pleasant interlude. She planted one more kiss at the corner of his mouth and backed away.
"You have become entirely too good at this!" she exclaimed, hands rising to her flushed cheeks.
He moved to take her in his arms again, but she retreated. "No, sir! Behave yourself, or I'll have to rethink being alone on the trail with you!"
Erik couldn't always tell when she was teasing him, often taking her words at face value, and dropped his arms eying her with misgiving. "If I am causing you any concern by forcing my unwanted attentions on you, I will endeavor to..."
"Ooh, you silly man! I was only joking! Why do you persist in taking everything I say so seriously?"
She laid her cheek over the cool satin of his waistcoat, one hand creeping up to caress his neck, then pulling his head down, placing tiny kisses to his bony chin before claiming his mouth once more. His large hands came up to cradle her head as they stood pressed together.
She was driving him insane. Absolutely no doubt about it. He ached nearly all of the time now from wanting her. But she broke away yet again and raised slightly unfocused eyes to his.
"You really are much too kissable, you know. I'm beginning to feel a little mad!"
He looked at her suspiciously. He was not... kissable. How absurd.
He cleared his throat, running an unsteady hand through his hair. "You will not be the only one claimed by madness then, I assure you." He nodded at the box. "Go on- open it."
Christine looked at him in surprise. "This is mine?" Pleased, she approached the box with anticipation. "Hmm... too bulky for jewelry, and it can't be flowers." She untied the string surrounding the box and pulled off the lid.
"Oh," she breathed, as she lifted the split riding skirt out of the box and held it up. It was a berry brown color in cotton twill, and looked vastly more comfortable than her heavy skirts. She reached into the box again for the matching gored peplum jacket and a cotton day blouse in brown and tan calico with mother-of-pearl buttons. There was even a pair of brown leather boots to complete the outfit. She raised shining eyes to her fiancé.
"Erik! It's so pretty!" She glanced at him as she held up the boots. "But how did you know what to buy?"
"Madame Jules helped me out with everything...size, color," he waved a hand at the box, "all of it. She wasn't exactly thrilled that I was purchasing clothing for you, but she gave in when I threatened to take you shopping myself."
Christine laughed and shook her head. "Well, she fooled me because she acted completely ignorant of what we are doing."
"I wanted to surprise you with it, and I requested her silence. That is why she said nothing."
She went to him and put her hands on his chest. "Come down here to my level, sir, so I may thank you properly." He obediently bent down and she placed a kiss on each masked cheek. "Thank you," she whispered against his jaw. "You are too good to me, but I love you for it."
"You need to wear the correct clothing for riding astride and this should do it. No corset though; they are too restricting, so leave it off tomorrow, all right?" He had insisted long ago that she loosen her corset strings when she sang. This, however, was different. She would be completely without that torture device hindering her movements, her breasts hanging free and-
Two spots of color flamed high on his twisted cheekbones, and for once was grateful for his cloth prison.
She nodded, her own cheeks a little pink, but nowhere near the embarrassment she used to feel around him. They spent so much time in each other's company now, she was more at ease with him. Well, most of the time anyway. But when his mouth was on hers eliciting very warm responses from her, it was altogether different. The pleasurable feelings she felt for him were thrilling- and daunting. As the physical aspect of their relationship ihntensified, she realized there were more subtle shades of intimacy, his past being one of them. And Erik might consider it too personal to share with her.
She couldn't forget the awful day when she accused him of betraying her with Becky. It had been terrible for her, feeling powerless while their relationship fell apart, but how much worse for him? He revealed some disturbing incidents in his life- brutal incidents. She knew about his time at the orphanage and his beating, but what happened to him after he ran away was vague. In his rage and sorrow, he mentioned performing against his will, and subsequent whippings to force him into it. It chilled her blood to know how Erik had been treated, and once after they were reunited, she tried to question him about it. She remembered the day she broached the subject. They were in the library working; Christine was doing copy work for the serial, and he was getting caught up on his own paperwork.
"Erik?" She had taken a short break and was stretching her cramped fingers.
"Mm?" He never looked up from his desk, but kept writing in that rapid way that he had, as if his thoughts were outpacing the words on the paper, and he had to hurry to get it all down.
She straightened up the papers in front of her and stalled for time, not sure how to ask him. Finally after a minute of silence he looked up and glanced in her direction. "Well? What is it?" he asked a trifle impatiently.
"Um, do you think that you could tell me about your life after the orphanage? W-When I was in St. Louis, I went there and talked with Mrs. Guthrie. D-Do you remember her?"
"Indeed I do. Mrs. Guthrie..." He grunted and tossed his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair. "You know, I haven't thought of her in years. She was the only one in that pile of stone who gave a damn about me." He was glad she had broached the subject because he was curious about her reason for the visit. "Why did you go there?"
She shrugged. "I missed you terribly, and I wanted to find someone who had known you."
He pushed his chair back and patted his knee. "Come here, darling."
She crossed the room in a rustle of skirts and settled on his lap, winding her arms around his neck. "I knew so little about you. Mrs. Guthrie told me how she taught you to play the piano. How good you were. How smart."
He said nothing for a moment, content just to be holding her in his arms. "What else did she tell you?" he asked quietly.
Christine played with the soft hairs at his nape knowing how well he enjoyed it. "She told me you were alone much of the time. T-That when you tried to be included in a game with some older boys, they...they beat you very badly. And that you ran away. She always wondered what became of you."
She smiled against his throat. "She would love a visit from you, Maestro. I told her that perhaps you would consider it after we're married. She's alone there except for two servants. The orphanage closed about a year ago."
"She was the only good memory I had of that hellish place. Her and that decrepit piano she taught me on. The lessons made it somewhat bearable."
She wanted to hold him close and love the hurtful memories away, but she well knew that anything Erik considered to smack of pity, was not welcome. Especially from her, so she kept still except for her fingers stroking his neck.
"Won't you tell me something about your life after the orphanage?"
"Someday. Yes- someday I will, I promise you." He tilted her head up to his and brushed his lips across hers. "But for now, just let me enjoy having you for my own, all right?"
He had effectively ended her inquisitiveness for the time being, his eyes becoming shuttered, his mouth a little grimmer than usual, and she had agreed not to ask any more questions. For now. He deserved that from her, but it only served to make her that much more curious about his past.
Coming back to the present, she smiled. "All right. I'll do as you say- no c-corset." It felt odd mentioning her unmentionables to her teacher, and she hastily changed the subject. "If I'm not being too nosy, what were you so busy with when I came in?" She started returning her new clothes to the box.
He straightened up and went back to his desk where he shuffled some papers together. He indicated the pages in his hand. "This is the last chapter of Phantom Trails, dear. I'm ending it now, for I have more important things to do with my time."
She smiled sweetly at him. "Oh? And what would that be?"
His eyes were glowing intensely in the dim light of late afternoon and never blinked once. "Carrying out my duties as your very loving husband," and Christine heard the promise in those few words.
She ducked her head, her cheeks rosy, and picked up the box, excited and nervous at the prospect. "I'll get it copied this weekend then. After our ride."
He followed her to the door of the library and kissed her goodbye. "No hurry. This last chapter is longer than usual. Maybe you can get some done on Sunday. Get to bed early," he warned. "We're leaving right after sunrise."
She schooled her features to remain sober, but they were belied by the gleam of humor in her eyes. "Now I can find out for myself how grumpy you are first thing in the morning."
He gave an inelegant snort."You already know what I am like in the morning. We had a long ride home together a year ago. Remember?"
"Remember? How could I ever forget the Phantom riding to my rescue?" she said fiercely. "And afterward, you were especially nice to me."
He looked at her in bemusement. "I am always especially nice to you."
"Yes. You are, but that doesn't mean you never get grumpy."
He said nothing to that, and blowing him a kiss, she headed home, not wishing to test his lack of said grumpiness at the moment, and eager to show Meg her new clothes.
The next morning found the two of them moving slowly out of the woods behind the houses, angling down the bluff, and riding nearly parallel to the river. Christine was enjoying herself immensely so far; she was alone with the man she loved more than anything, and comfortable in the new saddle he bought for Figaro. She knew she looked good in her riding clothes if the frequent looks from Erik were any indication. She felt deliciously decadent without her corset holding her in so tightly; it was a freedom which she could get used to very easily.
They were going no more than five miles from St. Joe, and they would stop somewhere along the trail and eat the lunch she packed for them. Erik had another reason for the ride. He wanted to get her conditioned to the saddle, and eventually going even further with him. A few trips such as these would go far in making her into a decent horsewoman.
The morning was a fair one and warming up nicely; before too long she would be removing her jacket. She had on a wide chipped straw hat with a berry colored bow tied beneath her chin, and it was doing an excellent job keeping the sun off of her face.
He watched her closely for any signs of tiring, but saw only her eagerness.
Christine regarded the man riding easily beside her on the tall mare. He was dressed in a black frock coat and trousers, looking completely at his ease, even as he keenly observed everything around him.
The hunter.
She shivered under that bright sun, well imagining the terror of facing him after being chased for hours on end, exhausted and cornered with nowhere to go. Erik exuded power and menace even now; it was as natural to him as breathing. In her opinion, only a fool would dare to confront him. In his eyes, Christine could readily discern the considerable love he held for her, but for a man wanted dead or alive, those very same eyes would signify death, and contain nothing save a cold, hard implacability.
As the day warmed, he removed his long coat, revealing the gun on his left hip. Her prior thoughts returned, and she glanced uneasily at the revolver. "Are you anticipating any trouble today?"
He saw where she was looking and shrugged. "Trouble can come from anywhere at anytime. That was one of the first lessons drummed into my head." He put a hand on the worn leather holster. "This is simply insurance, Christine. Don't worry."
They were well into their ride; she was enjoying the smooth gait of Figaro, and she wondered briefly which of the horses would be faster. Surely the gelding could at least keep up with the big mare? But Erik kept Moriah on a tight rein, their speed no more than a canter at times, and the gelding easily stayed beside the other horse. Christine yearned to make him go faster; she was becoming a dab hand at riding and their slow travel had soon become a little monotonous. Erik was simply being too cautious, but she was quite certain he would enjoy a faster pace.
Shortly after noon, he halted near a group of cottonwoods and dismounted. He helped her off Figaro, and led the horses to the small stream nearby, while Christine laid out their lunch on a plaid blanket under one of the trees. There was a nice breeze blowing and she was content to sit there watching, as Erik tied the horses beneath a cottonwood.
"I have some roast chicken, homemade pickles, and fresh made bread here, Maestro. And some cherry preserves to go with it. Come and eat something."
She removed her hat and sat back against the thin tree trunk eating a chicken wing and a piece of bread slathered with preserves. Her hair was plaited in one long braid and lay over her shoulder. His breath caught at how pretty she looked sitting beneath the tree, a tiny smear of cherry jam at one corner of her mouth. He sat down beside her and leaned over, giving her a lingering kiss. He handed her his canteen, then picked up the bread she had fixed for him. They spoke idly of many things as Christine tried tempting him with the array of food she had brought.
She watched Erik for a while; his eyes had for most of their ride, remained eerily absent, disappearing from sight as they always did in bright light, and Christine found herself conversing with the empty eyeholes of his mask. As she did now. After a time, she nodded at the bread. "Could you eat that better without the mask? You don't have to leave it on, you know. I've seen your face." Of course she had, and although nervous about viewing it again, it couldn't be ignored forever. Face your fears was what her aunt had always told her. How apt, she thought dryly.
"It is fine," he said shortly, and took another bite of the bread, his gaze on the horizon.
"But Erik, I don't mind. You don't..."
"I said it's fine, Christine," and he flashed her a warning look.
She felt rebuffed and said nothing more, eating her bread in silence as she pointedly ignored him.
Erik watched her, always distraught when she was annoyed with him. He swallowed the last of his bread, and dusting the crumbs from his hands, pulled her unceremoniously onto his lap. He leaned her back against one arm, his eager lips descending on hers. Christine's arms slipped round him, her hands clutching at his back as his mouth moved slowly over hers. He licked his lips at the sweet taste of cherries from her mouth, and laid his masked cheek against hers.
"I don't wish to hide from you. I know you have seen my face, but I still fear your reaction." He whispered softly in her ear, "Be patient with me."
She shook her head and stroked his jaw with loving fingers. "It's not you. I can be too insistent at times, but my intentions are good. I only want you to be comfortable around me."
"But I am comfortable around you. Very much so." He laid her down on the blanket. "I love you, Christine," and she curled her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her, where they spent a very pleasurable few minutes. Feeling his desire outdistancing his restraint, he kissed her one last time and got reluctantly to his feet, extending a hand to her. "We should start back. You are doing excellent! No pains?"
"None. I could probably go further if you like," replying hopefully while she folded the blanket. "And faster than a trot, Erik. I know you're not fond of plodding along." Christine glanced once at the black mare and smiled."Neither is she. Don't worry. He may not be as fast as Moriah, but Figaro's more than just a buggy horse."
He looked at her, amused. "Absolutely not. You both need to take this slow. You have done fine so far. Why push your luck?"
She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it. With Erik, one couldn't win.
He put the remains of their lunch in the saddlebags and helped Christine to mount. She took a last glance at the little glade as they started for home; she would remember the sweet moments they spent here. She was enjoying herself this time on the back of a horse which was a far cry from her first, but she still wanted to go a little faster. The black mare kept tossing her head which meant she was getting impatient to run. Erik naturally wouldn't think she could keep up, but she was doing so well. He had even said so, and she felt the same. He was an exceedingly fine horseman, and she would have to learn to keep up with him. Why not begin now?
As usual with Christine, once the idea lodged itself in her head it was difficult, if not impossible to get it out again. Hannah could well attest to that. She glanced once at her teacher and he must have seen something in her eyes; his mouth opened in warning, but Christine with a laugh, had already touched heels to the gelding's flanks and he was off at once. At first she was thrilled. The speed of the gray horse and the cool wind slipping past her was exhilarating, and she laughed gaily as Figaro ran. On and on he went, both young things filled with exuberance and the joy of living, until Erik's angry voice was filling her ears, demanding she stop immediately. Not wishing to antagonize her fiancé too badly, she pulled back on the reins and was stunned when nothing happened. The young gelding had taken the bit in his teeth, and Christine, a green rider and not very strong, could no longer control him.
Panic set in as the suddenly headstrong horse continued his bolt, and she quickly grabbed the saddle horn and a handful of his coarse mane, hanging on for dear life. Too late, she realized her foolhardiness could very well get her killed.
Erik was bewildered at the young woman's behavior, but had almost immediately put Moriah into a hard gallop. Christine was very light in the saddle, as well as an inexperienced rider and the gelding had sensed it. He cursed her for her foolishness, and then himself for thinking this could go well. He should have known that nothing in his life went the way he wished. He refused to consider the disaster that was looming, and gave the mare her head, using his spurs on her for good measure. There had only been a handful of times he used them on her- he judged this to be the most critical of those. He bent low over her neck, and the powerful animal ate up the distance quickly, soon coming alongside the gelding.
Christine, her face white with terror, felt her seat beginning to slip sideways from the saddle, and she gave a cry just as a long arm snaked out and wrapped around her.
"Get your boots free of the stirrups!" he thundered at her, and she worked to obey him as Moriah easily kept pace with the gelding. She was plucked off the back of her mount and lifted into the air, Erik pinning her tightly against the side of the racing mare until he quickly reined the Arabian to a stop. Christine was clutching his arm in a death grip, until he pried her fingers away and dismounted rapidly, in a rage at her stupidity.
She had expected him to pull her into his arms and comfort her. Instead, she faced a red-eyed demon intent on making her pay for her folly. He rounded on Christine, taking hold of her slender shoulders, his fingers digging in ruthlessly. "What the bloody hell did you think you were doing, you little fool?"
Erik's fury was evident in his stiff bearing and iron hands, his hair tousled and wild after losing his hat in the desperate race to catch up with her. She knew he had every right to be angry, but she couldn't help wishing he would hold her close and console her instead.
Christine pushed ineffectually at his chest, his bony fingers sunk into the soft meat of her shoulders. "You're hurting me," her voice tight with unshed tears.
He immediately released the young woman, running a trembling hand through his hair, trying hard to curb his ire...
...and failing.
"He could have stepped in a hole and sent you flying! Or how about this, Christine? You could have slipped from the saddle and got your foot wedged in the stirrup. I've seen men dragged to death that way! Trust me, darling, there isn't much left to bury once the horse tires." Erik's tone bit with an undisguised sneer, just daring her to interrupt his tirade. "Your vaunted opinion of your riding skills is much greater than your common sense, wouldn't you say?" he hissed.
Under his fiery gaze and cruel tongue, her love for him paled as she readied a sharp rejoinder, but he circumvented her, knowing exactly what she was about to do. He put a gloved finger to her lips and shook his head. "No. I talk. You will listen."
He studied her pinched face, her blue eyes still holding the vestiges of fright, but growing apace in them was anger. He ignored hers in favor of his own, and drove home one more truth. "You need to stop acting on impulse and think more about the consequences, because if you intend to kill yourself, where does that leave me?" He leaned down until his masked face was on a level with hers.
"Answer me, damn you! Where does that leave me?"
Christine caught the telltale gleam of his furious eyes, and finally saw the terror lurking there. Her anger deflated, knowing he was right, and she felt even more miserable, if that was possible. She had frightened not only herself with her recklessness, but Erik as well.
"I don't know what gets into me sometimes. I'm so sorry," she said in a whisper. She hung her head, not wishing to meet his eyes any longer.
Erik sighed deeply, his own fright beginning to recede, the huge surge of adrenaline leaving him exhausted. The anger remained. His hands longed to drag her close and shake her until her teeth rattled...
...hold her tight against his heart and thank providence he reached her in time.
"We have to catch that damned gelding- he could be half way to the border by now." He said nothing more, but mounted and reached a hand down to her, pulling her up. She settled behind him, wrapping her shaking arms gratefully around his waist, and laying her cheek against his back.
Their ride home was extremely quiet, the steady plodding of the horses' hooves underscoring the lack of harmony between them, although her soon-to-be husband's anger seemed to have finally spent itself. But she was not forgiven. Oh no, not at all, and she decided it would be safer to stay as silent as the proverbial church mouse. They had at last caught up with a grazing Figaro a few miles away, apparently satisfied from his wild run, and he stood quietly as Erik examined him for injury and checked the girth.
Of course the damned horse had gone in the opposite direction from home, and grimly he turned to Christine and said with forced calm, "Can I trust you this time? Or should I keep you with me?"
She put her chin up at his tone. "Yes. You can trust me. I won't do anything foolish again."
He nodded curtly and helped her into the saddle. "Of that you may be certain, dearest." When she reached for the reins, he held on to them and shook his head. "Ah, no. You will sit and I shall lead." He mounted his horse, and without another glance in her direction, proceeded to lead Figaro slowly home. Her humiliation was complete.
By the time they came through the woods behind the house, purple shadows were filling the hollows, and most in St. Joe were sitting down to their suppers. She continued to stare holes in his back, thoroughly disgusted with him, herself, and the whole miserable travesty of a day. They dismounted outside the carriage house and he led the horses inside, Christine trailing morosely behind him. She started to loosen the girth on her horse when Erik reached a hand out to stop her.
"Go on home. I will take care of them," he said shortly, and turned back, continuing to unsaddle the tall mare, ignoring Christine completely.
She was fuming from his cold shoulder as well as shamed by her actions that day, but she had something to say before she left him.
"I understand why you're upset with me. I do. I really do." She continued talking to the back of his head. His bare head. They searched for his hat, but at last with the very minimum of words, Erik had turned for home. Of course, to make matters even worse, it was a new hat which only served to make her feel guiltier.
"Just how long are you going to remain angry with me?" she pressed. "I'll buy you a new hat if that's what it takes!"
He said nothing as he removed Figaro's saddle and turned both horses out in the paddock. Christine followed behind, wondering bitterly why the promise of this day had ended so badly. She threw her hands up in defeat. "Well, that's just fine! Go ahead and stay mad for all I care!" She turned on her heel to leave, when he grabbed her arm and spun her around.
He swore under his breath at her perverse nature. Christine was so level headed most of the time, that he sometimes forgot just how damnably young she actually was, and still prone to lapses in judgment. He wished he could say he forgave her, but she had come very close to ruining two lives today, for the termination of her life would surely mean the end of his. "You still don't understand, do you?" She tried to back away from him, but he wouldn't release her. "You could have died today. And for what, Christine? A damned lark?"
She pulled at her arm and he held fast to it. "Let me go," she spat through clenched teeth. "Since you can't seem to forgive me, you can continue this alone! You demanded I leave! Remember?" She struggled against his superior strength, by this time outraged from his cavalier treatment and flailed wildly as she tried to push him away.
Christine didn't actively set out to hit him, wincing when her hand connected with the middle of his face and smacked nasal cavities which were especially sensitive. It was purely an accident, but she was quite certain he wouldn't see it that way.
She gasped out loud and put a hand on his chest, feeling bad all over again. "Erik, I..."
His eyes watering from the pain, he gripped the young woman by the elbows and pulled her closer, his mouth coming down hard on hers. There was nothing gentle about it; Christine's lips were mashed painfully against her teeth, as he pinned her arms to her sides and savagely kissed her. He thrust his tongue forcefully into her mouth, stroking the moist interior as she continued to struggle against him. His desire bubbled through his veins as he tasted her, his hands running up her arms and lingering on the soft swell of her breasts. He made a noise in the back of his throat, his mouth pulling deeply at hers. He wasn't at all sure when the kiss gentled, or when she actually began to respond to him. He well knew it had started out as punishment for her stunt that afternoon. He had felt true fear when she kicked her horse into a gallop and lost control over him. His nightmare had come to life. The certainty that his happiness and love would be ripped from his grasp just before he could begin to enjoy them. Seeing a vision of her broken body lying still and lifeless.
Christine had been angry when he pressed such a brutal kiss on her, struggling against what she felt had nothing at all to do with love and tenderness, and everything to do with dominance. But something happened as he continued his assault on her mouth, and her traitorous arms with no will of their own, crept up around his neck and soon she was kissing him back feverishly, her body straining against his. She ran the tip of her tongue across his nothing lips, and felt a jump of excitement when he moaned, his hands tightening on her in response.
Lovely.
He walked her slowly backward to the fresh straw piled in one corner of an empty stall, and laying her down, covered her body with his. She moved her hands over his back and shoulders, the feel of him pressing into her, wildly exciting.
His mouth broke away from hers and kissed its way down her neck to her collarbones. "I love you so much," he muttered. "So very much."
He framed her face with his fingers and looked deep into eyes darkened with a nascent passion just for him. For Erik. "Don't ever do that to me again," he pleaded, his mouth seeking hers once more, and Christine met him with an eagerness fast out-distancing her modesty. She cautiously moved her hips against his, eliciting a groan from him, and emboldened, reached for his hand, guiding it to her breast.
She felt his arousal digging into her upper thigh, and with her usual curiosity, let tentative fingers trail down his side to stop indecisively at his hip. He was doing heavenly things to her breasts, creating a pleasant friction from his hands, and she arched helplessly beneath him.
Erik's agile fingers had unbuttoned her blouse, and parting the material, nuzzled at her chemise covered breasts. He hesitantly placed his mouth over one as her scent enfolded him in a haze of desire. His confidence grew when the woman in his arms shifted closer to his hand as it kept company with a pert breast, while his mouth gently and reverently sucked the other.
She tugged his head closer, hungry for more of the sweet pleasure from his mouth and tongue. She continued sliding her fingers closer to his groin where it was pressed tightly to her leg, and finally skimmed a hand lightly- experimentally, over what it was seeking.
When she hesitantly touched him there, he stiffened and went perfectly still, afraid even to breathe and lose that wonderfully questing hand. Slowly, he tucked his masked face into her neck, willing her silently to continue, feeling as though his very bones were melting in a sensual heat. He felt real panic when she shyly began to pull away, uncertain if he welcomed her touch in that particular place, but his hand shot out and held her there.
"No," he rasped. "Don't stop. My God..." He kissed her neck and held her close, literally stricken by the absolutely wonderful things she was doing to him. She stroked him- no, she petted him just like she would pet a dog, and if he hadn't been so lost in pleasure from that small hand, he would have laughed. Now she was squeezing him as well, and he couldn't stop another groan from escaping his mouth. He felt the building pressure, nearly painful in its intensity and pushed closer to her oh-so-lovely hand.
The knowledge of what they were doing without benefit of marriage entered her mind quickly, and just as fast was gone. A blush stained cheeks already flushed from desire. She traced his hard length with her fingers, and the reality of their approaching wedding night popped into her head. It won't fit, her brain whispered insidiously. She shook off the unwelcome thought and continued to stroke him, feeling Erik tense as he clutched her tighter.
"Christine," he sighed into her neck, shuddering helplessly against her. She wasn't sure what had happened and kept stroking him until he lay quiet in her arms.
She had a moment of unease when he gasped harshly. "Are you all right? D-Did I hurt you?"
He pulled more air into his starved lungs and she was dismayed to feel his shoulders shaking. Feeling concern, she grasped his arms and repeated, "Erik? Maestro, are you all right?"
He nodded slowly, the delight of what she had just done to him still coursing pleasantly through his veins. "Yes. More than all right."
She looked closer at him in the dim light of the stall. "Are you laughing at me? Erik? Are you?" her voice climbing.
He kissed her tenderly, loving her sweet innocence. "Laughing at you?" And kissed her again. "Never," nuzzling her neck, still holding on to her tightly while his breathing quieted. At last he sat up slowly, regarding her with a strange mixture of contentment, shame, and happiness. He had never felt another's hand on him until this very moment, and it hadn't taken him long at all. For Erik, it had been momentous.
His glowing eyes settled on her and she looked away, suddenly embarrassed by her wanton behavior.
He tilted her face up to his. "I should have known better than to let that continue, but I will be damned if I say I am sorry it happened." He shook his head in wonder. "That was... It was so..." He stopped, at a loss for words to explain what he felt. His usually glib tongue had deserted him. The only thing that would make him happier than what just occurred would be the night he finally made her his.
She looked at him a little confused, but felt strangely pleased by his confession. "I'm not exactly sure what it was, but I don't regret it either," she bravely replied.
"Good girl. I..." His head snapped up when he heard the sounds of a horse being led into the carriage house. He put a finger to her lips and met Christine's wide eyes with his own in warning. "Shh," he whispered very softly and stood up.
Nadir started in surprise, and put a hand to his chest when the masked man appeared out of nowhere in front of him. "Allah! Erik! You frightened five years off of my existence! What are you doing?" he said irritably, eying him in suspicion.
He straightened to his full height and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Christine thought she lost an earbob in here this morning, and she asked me to look for it."
Nadir could smell the lie all over his friend and watched him closely, noting the sleepy look of contentment in his eyes.
Odd.
"Where, Erik? Under the straw?" The Persian frowned, for the thought occurred to him that perhaps his friend wasn't alone. "You are covered in the stuff."
The masked man regarded him steadily. "Well, yes. She thought it was in here somewhere," and he gestured vaguely. As if to punctuate his words, there came a muffled sneeze from the stall where Erik was standing. A sheepish Christine stood up and looked apologetically at her fiancé, waving her closed fist in the air.
"Why, look! I found it! I told you this is where it would be." She turned to the Persian. "Hello, Nadir! We had a marvelous ride, didn't we, Maestro?" She slipped an arm around his waist smiling up at him.
He looked down at Christine's mouth, still swollen from his kisses, then into her eyes. "Yes," he murmured softly, and the unpleasantness of their ride melted away.
Almost forgetting Nadir's presence, she reached up and drew his head down. "I'll see you later," she whispered, and kissed him goodbye.
He watched her walk out the doors, then turned to Nadir. "I thought you were going to Wathena for the day. Changed your mind, did you?"
The Persian shook his head. "I have been there and back already. Perhaps a little too soon?" He started unsaddling Barin and looked at his friend over his shoulder. "If I interrupted something here, I am sorry for it. But in a barn, Erik? I thought better of you than that."
"Daroga? Do not lecture me. It is not needed and most definitely not appreciated," he replied, glaring half-heartedly at him. He was much too content to feel anything other than satisfaction at the way his afternoon had ended. He stalked past him and was heading for the house and a much needed bath when Nadir spoke yet again.
"By the way, clean yourself off before you go inside. You're head to toe straw. And so was your future bride. I hope she does a better job explaining it than you just did."
Erik merely stared haughtily at him, then turned on his heel and left the carriage house. Nadir shook his head and chuckled, wondering if he could entice Hannah into a little romp in the hay.