Snow flakes drifted lazily from the gray January sky on the second day of the month as Louise stood with Maria in the Gare du Nord. Soon her aunt would be boarding the train with Nadir Khan for the start of their journey to her home on the Bay of Naples. They would be gone for nearly a month, arriving back in Paris in time to complete preparations for the wedding which was to be held in the last week of February.
"I wish you were coming with us, cara. You could use a bit of a rest," Maria said, her sharp gaze taking in the dark smudges beneath her niece's eyes, "you haven't really stopped since you returned here."
"You know I can't leave now,"Sorelli said dismissively, and glanced over to where Erik stood with Nadir Khan, allowing the two women the chance to say goodbye. "You won't be lonely at any rate," and she nodded her head at the Persian. "It's wonderful that you have a handsome gentleman as well as a very kind one escorting you so far. He's growing fond of you, tante, and it's reciprocated, isn't it?"
Maria stared indignantly at her niece, refusing to answer. "Erik is worried about you. You would do well to listen to him and take a few days away from the theatre."
"Are you two putting your heads together behind my back?"
Maria laughed shortly at something so patently ridiculous. "You know he would never do such a thing! Where you are concerned though, he is a little more transparent. Take some time off for yourself, child."
"At the moment I can't. Vincente is just waiting for a chance to pull me down a peg and thrust Marthe into the top spot. Of course, he'll have to go through the managers first, but somehow they don't strike me as being very astute when it comes to dance."
"Why is he treating you this way?"
Louise regarded her aunt with eyes which were suddenly very old- ageless in the way of a woman who understands the machinations of men. "Because I don't want him. H-He fancies me, I think," not really wanting to discuss why Breda was tormenting her. "He dangles my position as principal dancer before me with threats and long days, expecting capitulation, and when I don't give him that pleasure, he makes me work harder than anyone else. I wish he would have stayed in Naples where he belonged. He may ruin everything if he continues in this manner."
"You mean Erik, of course."
She nodded wearily. "Yes. I don't want him involved. I've worked with Breda before and I'm very familiar with his tactics." She gave her aunt a shrewd glance. "You deflected my question. You and Nadir get along wonderfully, and it's more than time you took an interest in someone else. You are a lovely woman who chooses to bury herself in the kitchen as if cooking for everyone is the only thing that's meaningful. Allow him to take you out for a meal- preferably one with candle light and moonglow," she said with a playful smile.
"He is merely escorting me to Naples, Louise, and he will stay in the hotel, so you can wipe that suggestive simper off of your face," Maria said gruffly, her cheeks turning pink. "Maybe you are the one I should worry about. Do you know how many times I have caught you and Erik in compromising situations? And you an unmarried girl!"
"Hardly that! Twenty-four isn't exactly fresh from the schoolroom," she protested.
Maria shook her head. "Yet very much unwed, niece. Why buy the cow when he can get the milk free?" she said tartly.
Louise gurgled laughter. "Because Erik detests milk!"
Her aunt's mouth thinned with displeasure. "Too much levity in young people anymore! And no decorum whatsoever. I was not referring to milk and you well know it! Be that as it may, I am an old woman and no one would think twice about Nadir and myself traveling together. We are merely friends. You, however, have your entire life ahead of you and should have a care what others will think."
Louise just managed to stop another laugh at Maria's description of herself; her aunt was an attractive and vibrant woman- hardly old. "We are not doing anything that would make you disapprove." So far, she thought wryly. "This is 1882 and Paris, you know! Not the dark ages. Women are coming into their own now, but beware of friends, tante. They can become so much more," she glanced over at Erik and met his eyes, her pulse quickening in response to that heavy-lidded gaze, "and the love of one's life." He had accompanied her to the station knowing full well he would be gawked at, as he nearly always was, even when wearing his prosthetic nose and the fedora tugged down as far as he could get it. His great height and slender build always drew the eye first before traveling to his face.
Maria looked between the two of them, feeling as though she were intruding on a very private moment, but nevertheless brought her niece's attention back to her. "Stop trying to match-make, Louise! We are not romantic in the least."
Sorelli dragged her eyes away from Erik and looked at her aunt dubiously. She chuckled as Maria's blush deepened and she became younger and altogether prettier, and thought wickedly that Nadir might have difficulty remaining a gentleman when Maria looked like that. She raised her hands in surrender. "All right! You have made your point. You and your friend."
Maria glanced at Erik who was half hidden in a patch of shadow, as though murky corners sent gray fingers out to ensnare and draw him in. He was ignoring the curious looks from passers-by, standing there much like a potentate surrounded by his lowly minions, patiently waiting for Louise to say goodbye to her aunt. "You better take him home now, child. He looks grimmer than usual."
"Yes," she said fondly. "He doesn't care much for crowds, but it's not just this," she said, gesturing to the busy station. "Erik is of the opinion that he should be doing more in regards to Breda, and I have unequivocally asked him not to interfere," Louise solemnly looked at her aunt, "and he's not happy about it."
"What can he do?"
"Nothing good, tante," she replied dryly.
She waited until a noisy family went by, the mother exhorting her three children to keep close as they fell behind, turning to gape slack-jawed at the strange looking man. Louise caught them staring and was irritated. "I only wish it were possible for him to take his rightful place in the theatre instead of below it. Erik would make a marvelous music director! Much better than Reyer, and he would be a wonderful conductor as well. He is much more perceptive when it comes to music," she said proudly. "I only wish-" her words stuttered to a halt, knowing the die had been cast long ago for him to remain nameless and unheard.
"What makes you think he would be comfortable doing so?"
Louise shrugged. "I don't really. It's just what I want for him. That's all," and she met his eyes again before turning back to her aunt. "I can see him poised in front of the orchestra. I can actually see it! I can almost hear it sometimes too," she whispered, "imparting his love for the music to them." She stared at her aunt and said in a hushed voice, "I can't imagine how it must feel for him to listen year after year to the masters' works being performed in his opera house and have no role in it other than as an observer. He is a genius, and it sorrows me that no one will ever know it. His talents are wasted, hidden away as they are, and he will never get his due."
"He has you now. I think Erik counts that as a great blessing, Louise."
She nodded quickly and looked away, shaking off her morose thoughts and held her arms out to Maria. "Have a wonderful time and enjoy yourself! I'll be fine," and the two women hugged each other tightly.
The Persian observed them and turned to the man beside him. "You will have Louise all to yourself for a month. I would expect you to be smiling ear to ear with your good fortune. Does nothing make you happy?"
He swiveled his head around, removing his eyes from her. "I am over the moon as we speak, daroga. Yes, over the moon that you are going far, far away and out of my sight for an entire month. Don't I look happy to you?"
Nadir snorted. "How can one tell? You always appear to have swallowed something sour. The only time you seem halfway pleasant is when you are with Louise."
"Ah, there you have it. I am not with Louise, but rather an insipid Persian clown who laughs when he should cry, and cries when he should laugh."
"I am quite used to your insults, but you are moodier than usual. Why? You have the woman you adore and soon you will be married. Why can't you enjoy yourself for once?"
He looked glumly at Nadir. "It would be heaven to me if she wasn't spending so much of her time on that damned stage," and he thrust his hands savagely in his pockets and began rocking on the balls of his feet.
"I never thought such sacrilege would leave your mouth. You like nothing better than watching production after production, especially when it's a sold-out House. Aside from no salary, which you do not require, what has changed?"
"It has changed because I have something far more important to do than worry about what insipid opera is chosen for another regurgitation of it." He jerked his head at Louise. "She is afraid of losing her primary position to another because of that horny cretin who has a vendetta against her," he said in disgust, "but I'll not let it continue much longer. She is near exhaustion and irritable at times."
"Now I understand your concern. She is irritable with you," Nadir said shrewdly. But he had heard the implied threat in Erik's tone and began to worry. "You wouldn't try something foolish, would you?"
He wearily shook his head. "I promised her I would not murder the buffoon and I will not," but this declaration did little to reassure the Persian.
"See that you don't. You will be married soon enough and your happiness is assured, but you must desist from your past...endeavors. You certainly don't want her worrying that you will attack him in some way and harm yourself in the process. After you are married, you may whisk her away then, and the two of you can hide from the world if you are so inclined."
Erik merely regarded the emerald eyes of the daroga with that unblinking stare that ofttimes appeared slightly reptilian. It always managed to rattle him. Sorelli could have told him what that gaze meant. Something the Persian had just said intrigued him, and he would process what bit of information could be gleaned from it and use it to his advantage.
Nadir dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet; to him that predatory look meant calamity for someone. He was suddenly very glad that he would be gone for a month. Erik could still make him uncomfortable, even after seeing him near death in the way that he had.
"Daroga?"
It was uttered softly, but something in that smooth, silky tone, raised the short hairs on his nape; nevertheless he turned to him and casually said, "Yes, I know. You can not wait to see the back of me for one entire month. You are over the moon at the-" The words dried up in his mouth when those deadly eyes fixed themselves on his face.
"You will be a perfect gentleman with Maria and not take advantage of your position as her escort. She is a rarity in this world- a compassionate and caring woman, and she will soon be a member of my family," and he said this with a note of pride and wonder that this was so. "If I find that you have in any way taken liberties with her which were not well received, I will remove the offending part of your anatomy and you will have much in common with the shah's own eunuchs," and his eyes narrowed dangerously, "for you will count yourself as one of their number."
The Persian had no intention of arguing with him. Not when he was in this mood, but he did take exception to Erik thinking him capable of harming a woman. Any woman. In fact, the man had it all wrong. Abu-Uzraeel was guilty of that particular transgression. Not he. Kohinoor had been a she-devil, but a woman all the same, and Erik had killed her in a brutal and horrifying manner with no remorse. Ignorance of his own villainy never ceased to amaze the Persian. "I think you will find that I will not be taking advantage of anyone, least of all Maria," Khan said quietly.
"Then we understand each other," and said no more.
The two women joined them, and amid a flurry of goodbyes, Nadir and Maria boarded the train. Louise slipped her arm through Erik's and hugged it close to her side. "We have an hour before rehearsal. Why don't you and I find something interesting to fill it?" and she waggled her eyebrows at him. He impassively returned her look, but she had caught the telltale gleam of interest in his eyes and stopped in the middle of the crowded train station, pulling his head down for a quick kiss. "You cannot fool me, monsieur! I saw those lips twitching a little. Out with it! I demand a fully fledged smile this instant," and she grabbed her hat when he bent down and instead planted another firm kiss on her mouth.
"Hoyden," he said with reluctant amusement. "Everyone can see you making a spectacle of yourself with the gargoyle in their midst. I am quite certain they think I climbed down from the very top of Notre Dame, so I implore you to be careful, for they may decide to put you away someplace where you won't harm yourself anymore." He gripped her arms in his large hands, as usual always more at peace when he touched her.
People were indeed staring in curiosity at the odd couple standing so close together, and Louise glared back at them, annoyed by their rudeness. She sniffed and tossed her head. "They have no idea how brilliant you are, and because of their ignorance they never will."
His hold on her arm slid down to her hand, and watching her eyes, raised it to his lips and kissed each finger, pausing on the one wearing his ring. His little champion. "Let us leave this place. I am weary of it," and as he handed her inside the carriage, he regarded her tired eyes and pulled her head down on his shoulder for the short trip to the Garnier. "Rest awhile, dear."
She nestled closer to him, unconcerned that her hat was knocked askew. It felt good to close her eyes. He held her in the circle of his arms as the sway of the coach and the clop of the horses' hooves lulled her into a light doze.
He wouldn't remain on the side and watch her collapse; his lips resting in her hair, the plan started to formulate, and by the end of the following day, he had set everything into motion.
"The leitmotif should suggest the tone for this act, Sorelli. It leads into the first of the fouettes in this scene, so do not be so damned timid with it!" He arrogantly stood there, hands on slender hips and tried to stare her down, but she was having none of it. Although she was shaking with exhaustion, she squared her shoulders and stood taller.
"I am well aware of what occurs in Act III, Vincente. It's not the first time I've portrayed Odette," she said quietly, slender as a reed in her white gauze skirt and fitted bodice.
Breda swept an arm out to the dancers still left onstage, including Uri Orlov, the principal male dancer portraying Prince Siegfried. "All of you clear out for the day," and when Louise gratefully started to leave with them, he summarily stopped her. "No, not you."
Estelle stared from Louise to Vincente, disturbed by his persecution of her friend. She opened her mouth to protest, not at all certain what she would say, but Sorelli caught her eye and gave a slight shake of her head. With a tiny nod, she left the stage.
When they were alone, Breda approached her slowly, and signaled the practice violinist to begin the pas de deux for the second scene- the Love Duet. Louise felt a moment of unease and shook it off. "Why not keep Uri here then, Vincente?"
He shook his head and held out his hand. "Because I can show you how I want it done much better if I dance it with you."
He looked speculatively at her as they flawlessly executed the moves, graceful and lovely to watch. They made an attractive couple, their bodies in peak condition with slender limbs wrapped in lean muscle, and if Breda's ego wasn't far greater than his talent, Sorelli would have considered it a pleasure to dance the pas with him. He was a profligate and womanizer, but he was also an outstanding dancer and master of the ballet. Nevertheless, she was becoming impatient with him; his touch on her seemed over-long and too familiar, and her temper was beginning to unravel, when a loud crash caused them to stumble to a halt. Louise looked in dismay to see one of the heavy sandbags used for a fly-weight, lying near the center of the stage. It had been nowhere near them, but it certainly caught their attention.
As it was meant to do.
Angered, Breda swore viciously and stared up into the darkness overhead. "Come down here, whoever you may be!" He glared at Louise, incensed that someone had been so careless. There was an uneasy silence that grew in leaps and bounds until the ballet master realized that the culprit had slunk away. "I'll find out who the thoughtless fool is before tomorrow is done! This is unprofessional and would never have happened at the San Carlo."
"It could well happen in any theatre, Vincente." Any theatre with an angry in-House ghost. Her anxiety came to the fore, knowing Erik was up to his old tricks.
Breda quickly left his rising ire behind and once more focused on the prima ballerina. "Are you...hungry, Louise?" His tone implied a hunger of another kind, and her apprehension climbed a little higher.
"What happened to work? I thought this was all about the clumsy dancer needing more time onstage."
"You...clumsy?" and curtly dismissed the musician. "No, this has more to do with a wish for the dancer's company."
"I'm afraid not, Vincente," and she turned to go.
"Wait, Sorelli! Why the rush to leave? We can have some dinner after you change into street clothes." He held out a supple hand to her, brooking no arguments. "Come. I'll walk you to your dressing room."
Her look was unflinching. "No...thank you. I have other plans."
"Come now, Louise. We have months to catch up with one another. A little wine, some dinner- I insist."
"I'm afraid that will not be possible. She is having dinner with me this evening," another voice answered him, and she watched in alarm as Erik materialized out of the dimness of the auditorium, and leisurely climbed the steps to join them onstage.
"Introduce us, Louise," his eyes never leaving Breda.
His bearing was one of cool disdain, even as Vincente did a double-take at his menacing appearance. Erik walked easily over to Louise and stood beside her. She had no option but to do as he requested. "Vincente Breda, may I present to you my fiance, Erik St. Clair." She was in her own way, happy that he had arrived when he did, barring any repercussions to Erik from his exposure to this man. Vincente was not one to be casually rebuffed.
"I must admit...this is a surprise. I had no idea you were affianced to anyone, let alone," his eyes raking Erik from head to foot, halting on his masked face, "this gentleman. May I offer my congratulations, or should I say my...condolences?"
Louise wound an arm around Erik's, keeping it pinned tightly against her side. She had felt him stiffen at the implied barb, and prepared herself, if at all possible, to keep him from attacking Breda.
He put his hand over hers and gave it a light squeeze. "Condolences are definitely in order. After all, she has to suffer the presence of a buffoon and libertine who has no conception of the word no."
Breda took a step forward, but paused when he saw thin lips turning up in a ghastly smile. "Who the hell are you? What kind of man would hide his face and what kind of woman permits it?"
"Ah, but which of us is truly in hiding? You merely pretend your devotion to ballet, when it is very clear that you use it to hunt women for your own personal gain," Erik said softly, and Vincente took another step back at the hard glitter in the man's unnatural eyes.
"Erik? May we leave? I am more than ready to do so," and she resolutely tugged on his hand.
He was prepared to ignore her, but weighing his options, decided to heed her advice. For now. She wouldn't appreciate a renewal of the opera ghost, nor would she enjoy watching him throttle the bastard in front of her. He met the other man's eyes, seeing the triumph in them. Obviously, Breda thought he had won this round, but there would be a reckoning all the same.
Erik nodded to him in an almost friendly manner. "Another time, perhaps." He turned to Louise, and relieved, she preceded him backstage to her dressing room, while Vincente watched her leave with disbelieving eyes. What manner of men were these French that she would prefer that to him? Shaking his head, Breda began to devise ways of making Louise regret her sorry choice.
When he closed the dressing room door behind them, she turned around and eyed Erik grimly. Ignoring her present mood, he pulled her into his arms for a kiss, and at first she resisted, wanting only to chastise him for his interference. Gradually though, she felt herself relaxing, and rested her lips against his throat, her hands sliding beneath his jacket and making their slow way up his back. His mouth found hers again, coaxing a response from her which more than matched his. He was disappointed when she drew away from him and stepped back.
"Why did you drop that fly-weight? That is something a malicious opera ghost would do- not my fiance. And you let him see you! Why? He's a spiteful man and he will now be looking for ways to make trouble."
"What would you have me do? Allow him to drool all over you?" He tried for a little calm, although he was far from feeling any, and gestured to her clothing. "Change and we will go have some supper and you can rest. You're exhausted whether you want to admit it or not."
She went behind her dressing screen. "This conversation isn't over yet, you know. It's just put aside for now."
"I know that very well without you telling me," he shot back.
She whipped her head around the screen and stuck her tongue out at him before diving back behind it muttering, "Always have to get that last word in, don't you, Erik?"
"I heard that, Sorelli," to which she laughed and hurried to change.
They made their way to his little home where he put together a light dinner of eggs and toast, serving her as she sat on the sofa, her shoes off and legs curled beneath her. While she ate, he hunkered down and coaxed the fire into a warm blaze as Louise discovered just how hungry she was, devouring the meal and leaving nothing behind but a few crumbs.
He gestured to her plate as she scraped it clean, "I do believe those flowers are painted on," he said with amusement as he dusted his hands and stood up. "I can very easily fix you more, if you like."
Louise glanced up to find him watching her as she popped the last bit of toast into her mouth and grinned around it. "No. That was delicious though. You have a way with eggs that even Maria would admire."
He approached her, eying the empty plate with satisfaction. "Dessert?" and when she shook her head, "Very well. I suppose I can offer it to you tomorrow, however apple tart is best eaten while it's fresh."
She looked up at that and smiled. "You remembered! In that case, I will gladly take it off your hands." He fetched her tart and a cup of tea to go with it and returned to find her curled up on the sofa asleep. He set the cup and plate down, and was reaching for the throw to cover her with, when her eyes opened and she blinked sleepily. Yawning, she eyed the plate with interest and sat up. "You're going to spoil me," as she reached for the dish and took a bite of the tart, sighing in contentment.
"How do you know that isn't my intent?"
She loaded up her spoon and held it out to him. "Have some."
He shook his head. "I wouldn't think of removing a single bite of your pleasure."
She imperiously held out the spoon. "Sharing a dessert will seal our bond, Erik. Didn't you know that?" she teased. "You want to bring us closer, don't you?"
"Yes, of course, silly girl, but I have something else in mind to do that."
"You do?" she asked innocently, and coyly fluttered her lashes, but continued to hold out the spoon. Admitting defeat, he sighed dramatically and Louise giggled. He approached her and reluctantly bent down, dutifully opening his mouth. She fed him the loaded spoonful and he made a theatrical show of painfully chewing and swallowing, producing another laugh from her. "You have quite the flair for melodrama and would make a divine Otello."
He snorted in disparagement. "Odd, isn't it? I don't recall a scene where Desdemona cruelly forced him into eating a sickly sweet mess of apples and dough! If she had, I could better understand her tragic end."
"Don't be grumpy. It's not sickly sweet- it's perfect." When she would have got him to eat another mouthful he stubbornly refused.
"I think one is more than sufficient, Louise," he said firmly, his levity used up.
Heeding his tone, she made short work of the rest of it. "There you have it! Our bond is now sealed forevermore. For your cooperation, monsieur, you get a kiss."
"Now that is much more to my liking! I will take as many of those as you may offer," and he touched his lips to hers, tasting cinnamon and apples. He delighted in her playfulness. "Warm enough?"
She held her arms out to him. "Mm. I will be as soon as you join me." He didn't need to be told twice and gratefully sat down beside her, immediately pulling her into his arms. "You are a lovely man," she whispered, as she settled comfortably into his embrace.
"Only you could think something so ridiculous, Louise," he said gruffly, but she heard the satisfaction inherent in his voice.
Her head on his thin shoulder, she rested in drowsy contentment. It was true though. How could she love him if it wasn't? She felt warm and secure in his arms, her eyelids becoming weighted down and heavy, but her mind wouldn't allow her to rest just yet. "I could have dealt with him on my own," she mumbled quietly.
He nodded once. "Yes, I am certain of it, now close your eyes," and pressed her cheek to his shoulder again.
She struggled up and gave him a stern look. "Do not make light of this, Erik! I don't want you going to war with Breda."
He arched an eyebrow. "Afraid I'll decide to murder him and hide the body?"
"No." Yes. "It's not just the ballet master and you know it! It's your easy acceptance of violence as the answer to everything!" She bit her lip, knowing in her heart she didn't want to walk that pathway again. It was littered with the deeds and victims of his brutal past, and more recently, the events right here at the Garnier; she wanted very much to put it all behind them and start anew. Loving a murderer and extortionist wasn't for the faint of heart it would seem. She sighed wearily and rubbed at her forehead where a throbbing had begun between her eyes. "I don't want to worry about you hurting anyone and that includes yourself. Let me handle him. I've done it before."
"Yes, I saw how you took care of him before, Louise. Why do you think I don't want him in your life again? You belong to me. No one else," and his lip rolled in that way he had, that to her meant he was slipping into anger.
She sat up and looked at him with the beginnings of her own anger, mixed as it was with the hurt from his harsh words. That particular mistake would not go away. "Is that what is going through your head at this moment? That I would willingly jump into his bed to keep my principal dancer status?
"How dare you!"
He shook his head and timidly reached for her, knowing he had gone too far- putting a big foot in his mouth where it often ended up- right alongside the bitter taste of jealousy. To his relief, she settled back against him, albeit stiffly, and he tried to dig himself out of the hole he'd planted himself in. Relationships would never be his strong suit, it seemed. "No, I don't expect that from you. Not at all. But I don't trust him to leave you alone. Look what he has done with rehearsals- making you work longer hours and tormenting you in front of the other rats. And he is making you lose your temper with Erik," and she had to smile hearing the self-pity in his voice. "Come away with me. We can go anywhere you like." He took her hand and held it up to his twisted cheek, sliding her soft palm over the papery skin, and closed his eyes, feeling a wave of calm wash over him.
"I'm not exactly new at this. I can take care of myself, I'll have you know! I don't need you to charge in and come to my rescue." She regarded him closely, exasperated with him, but just as quickly as her anger had flared, it died. Emotional upheaval was the price she paid for loving a man like Erik, and she had run the gamut of them all in one evening. She hugged him tightly and rubbed her cheek against his coat. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking up at him. "I suppose in a way you are right. I do need some time away from the theatre- I've been going at it for months now and very soon we will do just that, but not yet."
She ran her fingers through his hair knowing how much he loved it. "Have you been working on Don Juan while I'm at rehearsal? You haven't mentioned it in a long while."
He said nothing, just pulled her closer into the shelter of his arms.
"Erik? You still work on it, don't you?"
His silence continued, until Louise stirred, then finally, "No. I have very little interest in it of late."
She turned her head and regarded him quietly. "Why not?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "Because that music doesn't reflect my circumstances anymore. It is my darkness which gives life to the music. Gives life to my despair. I no longer wish to revisit it," sighing at the feel of her fingers caressing his scalp.
Louise nodded, trying to understand. "I'm almost sorry I never got to hear it."
He put a finger beneath her chin and kissed her. With his thumb, he lightly stroked her mouth, admiring the plump curve to her bottom lip. Lips he was permitted to kiss often. "I am writing something far better for you, Louise. Something to worship at your feet."
"I don't want you at my feet! I want you beside me." She sat up a little, fighting her drowsiness. "Tell me about your new music."
"Someday, perhaps. It is early days for that yet," he said pensively, and she picked up on his suddenly dour mood and murmured soothingly, "We're going away, just you and I as soon as Swan Lake is finished. Simply let me do my job- which is to dance."
"And you know that is why you will eventually make yourself ill! You are over-taxing yourself and it is all because of that horny Italian goat! Step down and come away with me now. I have no wish to expose myself any more than I already have, but I won't stand aside for him to exert undue pressure on you from petty spite!" Something he was more than familiar with himself, he thought with very little compunction. This was a war of sorts, but this time he wasn't extorting money or perks. Instead, his only desire was for the welfare of the woman tucked up beside him, who was being foolishly stubborn. He would not allow her to be worked into ill health.
She put a hand on each side of his face. She looked earnestly at him as her thumbs stroked his twisted cheekbones. He had closed his eyes at her light touch, basking in her warmth and love for him alone. He enjoyed her ministrations, while his mind conjured up ways to get her out from underneath Breda's control- without resorting to killing him. It was slightly problematic, and he did enjoy a good puzzle, but nowhere near the enjoyment he derived from her lips on his dead face. Louise smiled as she continued to give him her undivided attention. And in his contentment, he decided he would never lose this blissful feeling- would have much more of it, and that meant he must take matters into his own hands and save Louise from her own recalcitrant nature.
She belonged to him. It was that simple. After a lifetime of being alone, he had his own woman like any other man, and if he did something she didn't approve of, all in her best interests, of course, at some point she would have to realize he did it for her. She must. He was finding it harder to concentrate with her lips brushing across his sensitive skin. He was in a near constant state of arousal lately, and it was turning out to be both pleasure and pain. What would happen if they could forget the world for a time and concentrate solely on each other? More of what she was doing now. His mind drifted off and began work on the myriad details, even as his joy in her touch continued to delight.
She kissed the corner of his mouth and began her tender assault on his face, planting kisses everywhere as she tried to make up for lost time. A lifetime of no tenderness at all. She would pledge her life to giving him joy, but first she had to silence that tiny voice in her head which was intent on growing louder. She stopped her kisses and his eyes fluttered open in disappointment and met her serious gaze. "You listen to me, monsieur. Your days as the opera ghost are well and truly over. No more killing, no more threats, and no more kidnappings! Do you hear me, Erik?"
He looked back at her, caught between a half-truth and an outright lie.
"Erik?"
"Yes. I heard you."
She searched his yellow eyes for- what? Deceit? She studied him closely, realizing he could hide his true thoughts from her very well if he needed to and she would never be the wiser. He had built a lifetime upon subterfuge, and it was an ingrained habit. With little for her to go on, she at last nodded and gave him one more well-placed kiss, slipping back down on his shoulder again. "I love you."
His arms tightened gratefully around her, feeling as though whole minutes had just gone by instead of mere seconds, and he rested his cheek on top of her head as her breathing deepened into sleep. "And I love you," his breath ghosting through her hair, "more, I think than you will ever know."
He contemplated her words. No more killing, threats, or kidnapping.
Well, she was correct on one of those.
Uh oh. Oh, noes. Whoops-a-daisy. Oh, crap. Pick one. He's at it again.