Un Ladylike Behavior

We finally left that place, Gemma saying goodbye to a select few before she left.

"They will all be asking themselves why I said goodbye to who I said goodbye to for days," She laughed.

"You think it is funny to toy with people's emotions?" I asked.

"Not everyone's," She said pointedly.

The next place Gemma took me to was where the dancing part of the evening would take place. It was not what I would have expected. It was a small, dimly lit hall with an energetic band composed of saxophone, trumpet, violin, and piano.

There were more people there than had been at the restaurant and many of them greeted Gemma enthusiastically. She seemed more relaxed around these people. She laughed easier and smiled wider.

Two glasses of champagne materialized out of no where and Gemma handed me one, "They know what I like here,"

"You come here often too?"

She laughed, "I made this place,"

Two hours later we left the dance hall. For someone so thin she was able to handle the glasses and glasses of champagne and wine she had. Even so, I felt like I had to get out of there.

Even with Gemma at my side assuring me everything was fine I did not feel comfortable. When I could not stand it any longer I told her I was leaving. She nodded and took my hand, allowing me to lead her out onto the street.

"What did you think?" She asked.

"It was different," I told her. What I did not tell her was that the entire time I had been waiting to see a cruel look from a stranger or hear someone whisper about the freak with Gemma Chevalier.

The streets of Deauville were now quiet. The night air was still warm and the sky was clear.

"Our driver will have gone home by now but I know where we can get a cab," Gemma told me.

"Why not walk?" I suggested. It was a beautiful night. This was what I loved; peaceful, dark night. Under the cloak of the star dotted navy sky I felt safe and comfortable.

"All the way back to the house?" Gemma did not seem too enthusiastic about the idea.

"It is a beautiful night," I urged, "Come, we can walk back on the beach," I took her hand, leading her down the path by the wharf that would take us to the beach.

Gemma made no further protest. She walked along silently next to me, staring around at the empty beach and the deserted wharf.

"Wait," As we stepped onto the beach Gemma stopped and removed her shoes.

We began walking again and she took my hand. The beach was softly lit by the glow from the waxing moon. The gentle lull of the ocean waves breaking against the white sand was the only sound out there.

This was my idea of a good night; alone in the darkness.

But not completely alone, a small voice reminded me.

"It is beautiful out here," Gemma said at last.

"It is,"

"Funny, I come here every summer but I rarely go out onto the beach anymore,"

"Really?" I turned to her, "What a waste,"

Gemma laughed, "We all waste our time don't we?"

I looked sidelong at her. For a woman whose life centered on fashion, parties, and many many suitors she was insightful.

"We do indeed," I muttered, "How long have you been coming here for the summer?" I asked her. I had spent a long time rehashing the past, dwelling on the pain. I would not waste any more time on that.

"For as long as I can remember," Gemma considered, "We used have so much fun out here on this beach! There were a lot of us children then; everything was so amusing to us! We would spend hours out in the water playing,"

"It sounds like a wonderful childhood,"

"It was,"

I was afraid she would ask me what my younger years had been like. But true to her pattern of never asking me about myself, she did not.

In no time we were in front of the Chevalier home. We stopped walking and Gemma turned to me.

"I'm not really tired," She said, even though I had heard her yawning several times, "Why not sit out here for awhile?"

I agreed and we sat down on the beach. Gemma did not seem to care that her dress was getting sand all over it.

She sat down right next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. My arm wrapped around her. I felt her lips touched my neck.

"I am glad we went out tonight," Gemma said to me as she nestled a little closer, "I do hope you had a little bit of fun,"

Cupping the back of her head I guided her lips to mine.

She tasted like heaven, even though I knew she was no angel. But the fact that she could be lying to me, that she was never genuine, was easy to forget when her soft lips were pressed against mine.

We sat there for some time, just kissing each other. Gemma broke away for a moment, resting her head on my chest.

"That was worth a night in Deauville," I told her.

Feeling a little tired, I lay down on the beach, Gemma resting half on top of me. We lay there for a few minutes.

When she said nothing I sat up a bit to look at her; both of her lovely eyes were shut. I smiled and settled back down, my head on the sand. My arms were still wrapped around her.

It was so peaceful out there. I only meant to rest for a moment before I woke her up and walked her the rest of the way home. I never meant to fall asleep.

I was freezing when I woke up. It took me a moment to realize we were still on the beach. The wind had picked up and the stars in the sky were blacked out by clouds. In the distance I could hear the ominous low rumble of thunder. A storm was rolling in from the sea.

"Gemma," I shook her awake.

"What?" She looked around confused, "Erik what happened?"

"We fell asleep,"

She was shivering, "It got so cold out,"

"Yes," I nodded. It took a lot of effort to pull myself off the sand. It was cold and I was so tired, my joints ached and all I wanted to do was fall into bed.

But I managed to stand and help Gemma up as well. I felt her cold hands and face and I became worried; she needed to get inside.

I half carried her up to the Chevalier home, "Will you be alright?" I asked as she opened the door, "Can you get yourself into bed? You need to hurry you are freezing,"

Gemma nodded, "Erik you must stay here tonight; there is going to be a storm soon and you are so cold!"

I shook my head, "It would not be proper,"

"Oh Erik!" She glared at me, tugging on my arm and pulling me inside, "Our relationship is not exactly innocent, don't fight me now! I am too tired!"

So was I. It was three miles from the Chevalier home to mine and as the sound of thunder was growing louder and louder I knew I would be caught in it even if I took one of the Chevalier's carriages home.

As quietly as possible we stole across the rooms. Gemma led the way; she seemed to know every step of her house by heart. I assumed she had snuck back home in the dead of night before.

We went up a grand staircase and down a pitch black hall. She opened the door to one of the rooms at the very end of this long hall and pulled me into the room.

It was still dimly lit by the last rays of moonlight to escape the approaching clouds.

"Is this a bedroom?" I asked her, staring at the bed that was in it I knew it was a foolish question.

"Of course, this is my bedroom," She said in a hushed voice, locking the door behind us.

"Gemma!" I hissed, "I cannot sleep in your bedroom!"

I saw her roll her beautiful eyes, "Oh stop it Erik! We just were sleeping together out on the beach! What is the difference?"

"The difference is…it is different!" I cried, "And your father would have me head!"

Gemma sighed, "He is asleep on the other end of the house Erik! I will get you out of here tomorrow morning and he will never know,"

"Gemma," I shook my head, "I can not sleep in here! It is completely improper!"

"You did not seem to care about improper on the beach," She said frustrated, "Now get in bed! We are both freezing and tried, we will argue later,"

"I am covered in sand," I made one last protest.

"Then take off your clothes," She said slyly. She must have see the color drain from my face because she laughed softly, "Listen Erik, I promise I am not leading you to your death," She paused as she removed the dress she had been wearing, revealing only a corset, a flimsy slip, and stockings.

I was not so sure about that; she could very well be leading me to my death here, but what a way to go. Gemma may well have been lying to me; her apparent affections for me nothing more than a façade. Whatever she had in store for me, I doubted it would end in my happiness.

Unfortunately for me and for my heart, watching that cunning, sly Gemma Chevalier slip into her nightdress made me forget all of that reasoning.

I knew that women acted a little less proper when they traveled to the coast but this seemed a bit much. However, after tonight I understood. Gemma liked to test the boundaries, see what she could make people do. She would never follow the rules of society, not when she believed she alone made these rules.

Her bed was soft, much more comfortable than the beach but that was hardly surprising.

I did not realize just how tired I was until I lay down. It had been a long day; work at the site then out with Gemma all night. I was almost asleep before Gemma joined me.

Her presence in the bed made it impossible to relax and sleep. I was so aware of her body, a body I had thought about more than once, right next to mine.

"I'm so cold," She murmured, draping one of her arms gracefully across my chest.

She was freezing. Her body was so thin I imagined it was easy for her to become so. I had seen her in the sparse moonlight which was now gone completely and her lips had been blue. As she lay next to me now I could feel her shaking.

Maybe it was a good thing that I was here. I held her to me, trying to warm her.

"Erik, should you take that off?"

"My God Gemma!" I had removed my pants and my jacket, "What more do you want from me?"

"I mean the mask Erik,"

Suddenly I was the one who felt cold and shaky all over.

"I think it is better this way,"

"Erik," She raised herself up on her elbow, "I really do not mind…it is really alright…would it not make you more comfortable?"

"No," I said gruffly.

She stared at me. Outside the threatening storm burst. A huge clap of thunder shook the whole mansion and a streak of lightning briefly illuminating the room.

"Erik, I cannot imagine that that thing is comfortable," Her hand fell on the side of my mask and I felt my heart rate rise.

"Please don't," I took her hand away. I hated how pathetic and pleading I sounded. I knew Gemma lived off of other people's foolish weaknesses; Donetella Posen and all the others who worshiped her, and I hated to show her that I was anything but strong.

If she saw my weakness I knew she would exploit it and that frightened me.

Another bolt of lightning flashed outside. I saw her face in the brief light; the expression in her eyes was unreadable.

I heard her sigh, "If you are sure Erik, but I want you to know…" She stopped mid sentence.

For the first time that night Gemma had run out of words.

She shook her head, kissing me once before settling down next to me, trying to warm herself. Before long she was fast asleep.

As she slept I finally began to relax a bit. She could not do anything too diabolical while she was sleeping could she?

This day was the strangest I had ever had. Never would I have thought I could end up in Gemma's bed, warming her thin body.

I ran my fingers up and down her back, drawing a pleased sigh from her lips as she slept. Outside I could hear rain crashing down upon the roof top and the wind blew loudly. I had never been happier to be sung in a bed.

Sung in a bed with Gemma, I reminded myself.

She was a mystery to me. The most beautiful, captivating woman in France; what on earth did she want with me?

I had not really realized just how prominent Gemma was until this night. Everyone everywhere watched her with bated breath. All the while she was playing them for fools; they did not know that behind her beautiful green and blue eyes she was hiding contempt.

Gemma Chevalier was playing a game with all of them. I wondered if it was possible she was opening up to me because I was so far out of the realm of people who mattered, or if she was playing another game with me.

Was a person who put on such a front to the world ever really able to be sincere?

I stared at her in the dark. Lying there, practically on top of me, she did not seem so dangerous. She looked remarkably small and young. I remembered she was hardly twenty years old.

Perhaps I was overreacting. I was in the bed of the woman most desired by the entire country and beyond. I told myself I should just be grateful she had brought me here.