Oh, is it posting day already? I'm coming to the end of my first term (my, how the time flies!) so lots of finals and essays and everything that is horrid about university. So, needless to say, I've been feeling a bit low.

Doesn't help that looking this chapter over made me cry. But that doesn't seem to be difficult to do lately! Thanks to all of you who continue to review! You help make me a bit cheerier.

Now, enough of my blues. Onward to birthday happenings!


XLIV

Christine awoke the morning of her birthday with a smile on her face.

Erik had given her a whimpering boy a few hours before and then told her quite strictly that she was to go right back to sleep after he had breakfasted. She had smiled at him incredulously as she was the one who should be giving orders on this particular day, but the idea of sleeping the morning away with little care for anything else was a delicious one. So after Keane had been satisfied and Erik had whisked him away, she had curled back up into her mound of pillows and blankets and drifted back to sleep.

Now she felt utterly refreshed and decadent after having slept so long. The only thing that would have made the waking sweeter was if her husband was lying beside her, but she supposed the knowing he was up and caring for their boy was comfort enough.

She stretched languidly as she hummed in contentment, and was quite happy to see the door open a little and her husband peek inside. "Ah, the birthday maiden awakens. I shall fetch your tray."

Before she could protest and tell him that she would rather he come lie with her for a moment, he was gone. Deciding that she would coax him into bed with her by any means necessary, she rushed into the bath-room to take care of her morning needs before slipping back into bed. He obviously wished to keep her there, and she was not going to argue—but only if he would join her.

He returned a moment later, his eyes narrowing suspiciously and she knew he could tell she had moved. It was good he had noticed for she had hurriedly brushed and braided her hair so that she would look all the more comely for him.

"Your breakfast, my lady."

Erik placed a footed bed tray upon her lap, and she could not help the feeling of warmth and love that flooded her at the sight. There were pastries and a bit of omelette, as well as a steaming cup of tea that beckoned to her. But what touched her most was the lone rose that stood proudly in a vase, its fragrance drawing her to its petals most efficiently. "How did you find one? It is freezing outside!"

Her husband sniffed and looked very pleased with himself. "Your Erik has his ways. My rose must have a rose on her birthday."

She bit her lip to keep the tears at bay. He did so hate to see her cry, but this time it was solely his fault for the welling of her eyes for he was just so wonderful.

Christine was about to beg him to join her but there was a sharp and loud protestation from the sitting room that delayed her entreaty. Erik sighed and offered her a rueful smile. "It seems our boy wishes to see his mamma."

As soon as he returned with Keane she patted the bed beside her. She was not going to take even a bite until her little family was cuddled up with her. "Please join me."

He deposited their son at her side, and he smiled at her happily.

Christine firmly believed that Keane was a duplicate of Erik when he was young. The long limbs, the way his face would scrunch just so whenever some new stimulation was near, it was all too like his father. But his neediness was genuine, and what he hated most was to be away from either of his doting parents. He would submit to napping in his bassinet, but only if he found something particularly objectionable about his parent's arms—and while at times she thought it to be a trial, she found that she could not complain.

If that attribute was also similar to Erik, her heart hurt whenever she considered how much he had been neglected from such a base need. Touch and companionship were so important, and nothing on this earth would make her begrudge her little boy his desire to be held.

But for now he was content to smile and gurgle, nestled between his two parents.

Erik produced another teacup seemingly from nowhere and poured himself a cup. He was sprawled out atop the bedclothes, already fully dressed for the day. "Did you take Keane with you to abscond with my pastry?"

Her husband took a deliberate sip and poked at his boy's belly with a long finger. "He might have woken you if I had not, and you deserved to sleep in." He sniffed. "Besides, he must learn how to be stealthy."

Christine rolled her eyes, not finding it necessary to chastise her husband for teaching their infant the art of covertness. "Of course."

Erik peered at her from over his teacup, and he appeared almost doubtful. "Am I doing an adequate job for your birthday? I have never had a wife to pamper before."

With a tray on her lap and a baby between them she could not roll over to kiss his doubts away, so she instead reached over and took his hand in hers. "You are so good to me, Erik. I could not ask for a more perfect husband."

And it was true. He might not be handsome, but he was pleasing in every way that mattered. He squeezed her hand in thanks before pulling it to his lips so he could place a kiss upon her palm. "I am glad you think so. But if you do not begin eating your breakfast soon I shall be horribly insulted."

She laughed and did as she was bid, not wanting to waste the delicacies he had afforded her. Though she had consumed a frangipane a week ago at Christmas, she was all too ready to indulge in another. The sweet almond paste was pleasure itself upon her tongue, and she observed with amusement how Erik watched the flaky exterior tumble onto the tray below.

Her fastidious husband.

The omelette was also delicious, and she was grateful that he had been mindful of her appetite and kept it small.

When she had finally completed her meal he whisked away the tray, ignoring her protests and assurances that it would be fine waiting upon the floor as they continued to laze and lounge.

She was about to pout and perhaps have a bit of a sulk that he would not listen to her, but any such thoughts died away when he returned, arms laden with packages.

Christine had forbidden him from giving her any gifts on Christmas Day. It was her own whimsy that had made them celebrate to begin with, and she still felt slightly guilty for it when he had obviously taken such pains to prepare for her birthday. So instead she had consoled him with assurances that she did not want to take away from today's gifts, and he had finally relented with a wearied sigh.

But now, as he piled her presents about her, she realised that she could have opened any number of them a week ago and he still would have outdone himself.

"Erik, there are too many!"

Her husband rolled his eyes and straightened the one at her feet, apparently intent on creating a sarcophagus of gifts in which to enshroud his wife. "Nonsense. There will never be too many for my Christine."

He would not look at her and as he continued to fiddle and fuss, she realised just how vulnerable he was in that moment. Christine knew with certainty that his main priority in life was to please her, and he must be feeling awkward and unsure. It was her responsibility to accept his efforts with grace, not make objections that his overtures were too extreme.

She took his hand again and was grateful that he allowed her to draw him closer. "Thank you, Erik. For everything. I love you for your generosity, but I just want you to know that even if you did not provide all these things, I would love you no less. You and your attentions are a gift." She grasped his hand a little more firmly and her smile grew mischievous. "But I would never complain about you indulging me."

Some hidden tension seemed to ease from his shoulders, and he huffed good naturedly and mumbled about his greedy wife.

But when he moved to his rightful side of the bed and lay down once more, pulling Keane upon his chest so he could be all the closer to her, she did not mind his endearing name calling.

He had apparently arranged them in some kind of order, and for the next half an hour she was delighted by all kinds of gifts. There were some beautiful new hair combs that would allow for some of the more womanly fashions that could not be accomplished by pins alone. She blushed when she opened one package to discover not one, but two new chemises that where of the finest silk she had ever seen. They were almost completely transparent and had the most exquisite lace about the necks. And each was fastened with a small ribbon drawstring that would allow for easy removal.

She caught Erik smiling at her roguishly from the corner of her eye, and carefully tucked them back into the box.

Later.

There were other pretty trinkets that would make beautiful additions to her bedside table and other places about their home. It touched her quite a bit that he would allow such feminine figurines to grace their rooms, and she kissed his cheek for each one.

But what meant most to her was the very last one.

Feeling the need to tease her husband she made a very great show of trying to identify the item by touch alone, to which he rolled his eyes and huffed petulantly at her silly game. It felt like a book, and she immediately thought it was a compilation of his compositions. She had complained on many occasions that his works were treated unjustly scattered about as they were, but he merely informed her that they were all still residing within his mind so their written form served little purpose in any case.

She argued of course and he smiled at her indulgently, but obviously with little intention of ever taking more care with his work.

But it was not a book of compositions.

Christine should have known that her husband could draw. With all his other creative outlets it seemed only natural that he would also be perfectly capable of recreating the moments that meant so much to them throughout their marriage.

The first was a picture of them standing before the altar in the church. She in her blush coloured dress, and he looking so dashing in his cloak and formal attire. It was their first kiss, and she felt the remembered warmth upon her lips and the stirring of nervous anticipation that had kindled at his touch.

"Oh Erik, it is beautiful."

This time it was he who rested his head upon her shoulder, and he tapped the page meaningfully. "There is more."

She was relieved that he had not drawn any of their more explicit moments, and instead had catalogued the sweet and tender happenings that had made her love him so very deeply. She saw how her stomach swelled, and it truly amazed her how much attention her husband paid to her in order to capture every detail so completely.

"The final entry is new."

Christine slowly turned the final page and her breath caught in her throat. There were many of her and Keane, but this one held particular significance. It was from Christmas morning while she was nursing him in the lovely nest that was still rumpled from their lovemaking. Her hair was tousled and wild, one breast nearly completely exposed while the other was hidden behind Keane's downy head. She was gazing down at her boy with such an expression of love and affection that it nearly overwhelmed her.

Erik shifted slightly against her shoulder, and she only barely was able to keep from staring at the page in rapt fascination in order to glance at him. "Does she look like a trollop to you?"

His voice was soft as was his touch when he reached out a fingertip to wipe away the quiet tears that fell, and she shook her head determinedly. "No. Not in the least. She looks like a wife and mother who is well loved."

He pressed a kiss upon her collarbone. "I sincerely hope she is. Her husband tries very hard to show his love in every way he can."

Abandoning the pretence, Christine turned so she could face him fully, careful not to disturb Keane in the process. "You have given me more than I could have ever dreamed of." She leaned over and kissed his lips soundly. "And since it is my birthday, I forbid you from doubting it."

Erik looked at her solemnly for a long moment, and she willed him to accept her words for the truth they were. Finally his lips quirked and he made a flourishing gesture with his free hand. "As you wish, my lady."

Keane suddenly scowled in his sleep, and Erik patted his back comfortingly. Christine always wondered what her boy could possibly dream about as his world was mostly confined to their little underground home, but by the faces he made it did not always seem pleasant.

Maybe he dreamed that his mother was not always quite so quick to uncover a breast at his whim.

She reached over and brushed her fingers through his soft, fine hair and prayed fervently that his worries would remain so inconsequential for many years to come.

"And how should my rose like to spend the rest of her day?"

Christine gasped in mock surprise. "You mean my doting husband has not planned the entire day away?"

He hummed and fiddled with Keane's toes, making them scrunch up further into his little body. "I thought you might like to be able to contribute something in the endeavour of creating your perfect day."

Erik kept giving her unsuccessfully clandestine glances from the corner of his eye, obviously trying to reassure himself while keeping to her earlier declaration that he was to stop being so uncertain that he was pleasing her.

So instead she sank back into her pillows with a sigh and cuddled up against him, rubbing her leg against his as best she could while she was confined to the bedclothes and he was not. "I think I could grow used to being your lady and having you to do my bidding." Her tone was breathier than she had originally intended and even to her own ears it seemed almost... sultry.

And remembering how she had looked in his pictures, she did not feel the least bit sorry for it. She was a married woman and it was her prerogative whenever she wished to seduce her husband.

Perhaps it was a bit too early in the day to begin utilising her new chemises, but that did not mean she could not reveal some of her intentions for later in the evening.

Erik swallowed thickly, evidently aware of her suggestive tone. "I believe I have been your willing slave for almost a year now, Madame." He tried to sound droll, but there was a heat that entered his eyes that belied his tone. Perhaps at another time to hear him use the word slave would have seemed harsh, and she would have thought to ensure he did not truly feel she was taking advantage. But when he was looking at her like that, his eyes full of wanting and needing, she could find no cause to do so.

He had once told her that if she would but love him, she could do with him what she pleased.

And it pleased her that he be happy.

And in that moment, she did not doubt that he was so.

She kissed him then, because she could simply not bear to go any longer without feeling his cool lips against her own, though she found the position slightly awkward with a babe fast asleep on his chest. Regretfully she pulled away, stroking her son once more before climbing from the bed. Erik appeared rather forlorn at her departure, but he was the one trapped by Keane's sleep-warmed body, not she.

It was her birthday.

Since he could not occupy her most satisfactorily in their bed, she would luxuriate in the bath. "I am going to bathe, and then perhaps you would like to read to me for awhile. And then maybe we could sing."

Erik sighed but waved her away to her soak.

The rest of the day was lovely. There were more treats and pastries to be had, and she felt quite plump and decadent as she ate her own fill, while also ensuring that Erik indulged sufficiently as well. It was not nearly as rewarding to indulge by oneself, which she reminded him consistently throughout the day.

He had asked her if she would like to dine elsewhere, perhaps at one of the finer restaurants that Paris had to offer. She had hugged him for offering, but assured him that she was perfectly content to eat at home. Erik was visibly relieved at her answer, and she grasped him a little more firmly for the sacrifice he was willing to make should she desire it.

But she desired other things far more.

After their evening meal she had taken Keane into the nursery for his own supper, and tucked her already sleeping boy into his bassinet for the night.

She was both grateful and relieved at his cooperation as she wished to celebrate her first birthday as a wife properly.

And that required consummation with her husband.

Christine smiled at the thought.

Before she had gone to Keane's room she had changed into one of her new shifts, always finding it far more comfortable to nurse unencumbered by the extra fabric of her gowns. Now, as she entered her own chamber and saw the candlelit room and her husband in his own nightclothes waiting for her upon the bed, she was very grateful she had done so.

He was fiddling with the rose he had provided at breakfast, but his attention drifted to his wife standing in the doorway.

As it should.

The light from the lingering fire in the sitting room must have provided an ample view of the limpid state of her shift, and from the way her husband's eyes darkened, he must have been well pleased by his gift.

He swallowed and once more toyed with the stem of the rose, and she finally noticed that he had carefully removed each of the thorns. "What would you like to do now, my lady?"

She did not know from where the depths of her boldness came and even when the words were spoken she did not blush, nor did she falter. "I would like for my husband to ravish me."

Erik groaned at her words, obviously not displeased by her forwardness. And before she could even move to aid the process, he was striding toward her with a determined gate. She yelped quietly when he suddenly picked her up, and she prepared herself to be flung upon the bed. But ever her gentle husband, he softly lay her down atop the bedclothes before allowing his long frame to cover hers.

He hummed as he felt the silk of her chemise against his palm, and she released a hitched gasp as his long hand covered her breast through the fabric. "I find that I quite like your birthdays."

Slowly, oh so slowly, he undid the tiny bow that kept her covered, and while she waited for him to pull it off of her completely, he simply opened it to reveal both of her breasts to his view. Ever since their lovemaking on Christmas Eve, they had steadily begun to reengage in intimacy. Her breasts however had remained carefully limited in contact and attention, as she was partly worried that she would leak on him, and he was concerned that she would somehow be discomfited.

But when he took the rose still dangling in his fingertips and skimmed her rapidly heating flesh with its petals, she could not help but whimper at the delicious tickles and the ghost of contact that threatened to overwhelm her.

He languorously drifted the rose over the very tips, brushing lightly and almost teasingly. "And you, my rose? How do you like them?"

Not caring in the least that it would disrupt his little game she reached up and brought him down for a kiss, needing to feel the press of his chest against her as it grounded her within the moment.

"I like them very well, husband. Very well indeed."

And she also decided that she liked these chemises very well, for they inspired her husband to very thoroughly apply his attentions.

And when they finally slept, too exhausted for more than off-centred pats of affections as they nestled against one another, she felt meticulously sated and ravished.

She had never been quite so fond of birthdays.


Sooo… looks like they both are enjoyed Christine's birthday! Shocker. How did you like his gifts? Pretty sly of him to address the trollop issue with a picture, no? And I bet Christine is glad she didn't try to draw on his Christmas wrapping paper… not after she's seen what her husband is capable of!

Anyway, please take the time to review! It keeps me motivated!

And next up... something is wrong with our darling Keane... (And I'll give you a hint, it's not as simple as a cold...)