A/N: Okay, here it is, finally! I apologize for not posting it this weekend, as I had planned to do. I edited, and edited again, and yet again. I really, really agonized over this, so be kind, everyone. And the prose contained herein is from none other than...well, I'll tell you at the end. LOL!
Disclaimer: I love Leroux! I love Erik! And the characters here aren't my own, but you know all this. Read!
Chapter Forty-Eight
Time seemed to stand still as Christine stood there, in only her light shift, her back to her husband. She closed her eyes and realized that her entire body was trembling…she was not certain what was causing the reaction…fear and desire seemed almost to be synonymous sensations when it came to Erik, she realized.
After a moment, she heard a faint rustling behind her, and realized that Erik was changing out of his dress clothes. She chose not to turn around, and simply stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed with unidentifiable emotions. At last, she felt a warm hand resting on her shoulder before it glided slowly down her arm. Suddenly, she was spun around to face him. She met his eyes, and the unbridled ardor of his fiery green gaze nearly undid her. He kissed her then, and she felt terrified and wonderful at the same time. She could feel him trembling as well, and after several blissful seconds, Erik pulled away. "I love you, Christine," he whispered reverently. "Do you trust me?" She nodded reassuringly, and at once everything became a haze to her as he began to speak in his melodious, poetic voice, easing her into the natural passion of a husband and wife.
"Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens," he breathed, touching her tenderly, gently, hesitantly at first, as if she were a fragile object. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to simply listen and feel. He lifted his hand to her mouth and slid his thumb across it. "Your lips are like a scarlet ribbon; your mouth is lovely. All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you." He removed his thumb and leaned into her, kissing her again, more deeply. She shivered with anticipation. How can he see me this way? she wondered in amazement.
He pulled away and began to circle her slowly, as lithely as a great cat. The sensation of lightheadedness began to envelop her. "You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace," he continued, his voice suddenly becoming a whisper in her right ear. He drew his fingers worshipfully across her collarbone to emphasize his words. "How delightful is your love, my sister, my bride," he purred musically, causing the hairs to bristle on the back of her neck. "How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of your perfume than any spice." Erik was surprised at how the words he spoke were causing his anxiety to melt away. He moved steadily closer, becoming more bold with his hands and then with his lips.
Christine's insides felt like a raging inferno, and her knees began to buckle slightly. Erik sensed it and immediately pressed himself closely behind her, wrapping a strong arm about her waist to support her. Mine…my Christine…my wife! How long I have waited for this moment, to be loved by her…desired by her. Christine instinctively leaned back against him, her head on his shoulder. He brought his mouth to her left ear then, whispering words of love and devotion, gathering confidence and pleasure from her every reaction. His passionate assault on her senses overwhelmed her, and she felt the porcelain skin of her face reddening, even as she fought against it.
"How beautiful you are and how pleasing, O love, with your delights," he continued rapturously. "Your stature is like that of the palm, and your breasts like clusters of fruit. I said, 'I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit,'" he moved slowly and passionately, playing the prose upon the instrument of her body. At this, Christine's knees gave way, and Erik quickly caught her, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her to the soft, down quilt on their bed. She was nearly breathless, knowing nothing but the rich warmth of his voice and the fire of his touch at that moment. "May your breasts be like the clusters of the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples," he murmured, pausing to remove his mask carefully, "and your mouth…" he said, leaning over her until she could feel his lips against hers, "…like the best wine."
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Christine blinked as the sunlight gradually found its way through her eyelids. Stretching languidly, she realized where she was…and whose warm body lay close beside her. As carefully as she could, she rolled over. Erik lay peacefully on his back, sleeping soundly, one arm bent under his pillow. Christine smiled to herself, reveling in her new status as his wife, and she studied his uncovered face for the first time in the light of day. It still held the same ravaged features, but something was different. What she had once seen in him--rage, hatred, malice toward mankind--was no longer there, and she was grateful. However, something gnawed at her…she saw herself in his scars. It still hurt her to think of what she had done, just weeks prior, to cause him such extreme pain.
Carefully, she brought her hand to the right side of his face and felt his marred flesh beneath the pads of her fingers. She began to trace every ridge, bump, and indentation, as if memorizing each one. As she did so, she began to cry in both sorrow and amazement. I used to fear this haunted face, she thought, astonished. And now, here I am, and I cannot stop looking at him. He is true beauty, and to think that I almost lost him forever…. She wept bitterly, trying unsuccessfully to remain noiseless so as not to wake her husband. She closed her eyes and a stray tear escaped her, landing with a small splatter on his chest. When she opened them again, Erik was stirring. She attempted to wipe the tears away with her free hand, but his eyes fluttered open before she could do so.
For a moment, he stared at her in disbelief, certain that he must be dreaming. Christine's hair was in complete disarray, her creamy shoulders exposed above the silken bed sheets. He lifted his right hand to caress one of them, and found to his delight that she was indeed real. Suddenly, memories of the night before came flooding back to him. He smiled and closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord. She is truly mine completely, he thought. We are one at last. He felt positively invigorated. Opening his eyes to look down at her, he noticed immediately that she had been crying. His elation quickly turned to alarm, and he cupped her chin in his strong hand, lifting her face to meet his piercing gaze.
"Mon amour, what is wrong?" he whispered urgently. Her hand still lay lightly on his right cheek, though she was not certain that he was aware of it at that moment. His features were so rough that she wondered how much sensation he even possessed on that side of his face. She slid her hand softly across his stretched and malformed skin, noticing that he did not shrink back from her touch. "Erik," she spoke hoarsely, "I…I was just thinking…about us."
As Christine moved her hand across the bare skin of his right cheek, he nearly recoiled in shock. His first thought was to immediately replace the mask. But she is my wife now, he reminded himself. She chose me as her husband and accepts me as I am. He steadied himself and remained exposed before her, all the while feeling the unsettling sensation of vulnerability. I'm going to have to overcome this feeling, he realized. I cannot afford to keep barriers between us, as husband and wife. He furrowed his brows, one of them scant and the other, full and commanding. "But, Christine, you've been crying. Does that mean that you're…having regrets?" he frowned worriedly.
"No! No, my beautiful Angel, never," she responded quickly, sliding herself upward to bring her face to his. "Except that…I was thinking about the time I wasted, and how I hurt you, and…no, Erik, please just listen, don't say anything…I was recalling that once I was frightened of your appearance and of you. But now, your scars are my scars, mon amour, and my scars are yours. I am just amazed at how things have changed for us these past several weeks. Dear God, I don't even know where I'd be right now if not for you…I don't even want to think about it! You are my beloved, Erik, and I'm just so incredibly ashamed that I didn't see it sooner." She lowered her gaze and began to weep softly again.
What have I ever done to deserve this woman before me? he marveled. Erik stroked the radiant skin of her cheek with his fingertips and brought his forehead down to rest upon hers. "Mon ange, I was not the same man then. There was no beauty in me…there was only pain, hatred and selfishness." He placed a light kiss to her nose. "There is no reason for you to feel ashamed. If anyone is to feel shame, it should be me…but I refuse to wallow in it. The Lord Himself has redeemed me, and if anything, my past serves as a reminder of how much He has done for me…and for us."
She lay her head down upon his chest, skirting her fingers over the patch of hair in the center. "But, Erik…there was also a great capacity for love in you then. And yet, I thought you to be a monster…until you let me go, of your own volition. It was at that moment that I knew. I knew that I loved you, when I kissed your lips…these lips." She rose slightly from his chest and brought her hand up to trace the smooth curves of his mouth. He responded to her touch, pressing a small kiss to the pads of her fingers. "When you decided to let me go, I knew even then that I couldn't live without you….but I simply tried to blind myself to it, thinking that what I truly wanted was the life of a future Viscomtess." She shook her head, her eyes cast downward. "But Erik, your scars had already become mine. I have grown to embrace them…and I love them, because they are a part of who you are. I wouldn't change one of your scars…not for anything in the world. Scars are evidence of wounds, yes, but they are also evidence of healing…and I believe that in many ways, we have helped to heal each other's wounds." She paused momentarily, as if in awe of the thought, and raised her head to meet his eyes. "We are one in the eyes of everyone now, but I have felt as if we were already joined for years. I am a very, very blessed woman indeed, my husband." She smiled through her tears and Erik was overcome with raw emotion. Propping himself up on his elbows, he cupped the back of her head in one hand, bringing her to lay fully across his chest. He kissed her feverishly, and they succumbed once again to the love and passion that was in their hearts.
After a time, they lay there together, completely at peace. At last, Erik broke the silence with a whisper. "I love you, Christine. And because you love me…surely, I must be the most blessed man on earth." He smiled at her with satisfaction upon his countenance. She laughed lightly. "I am glad that I please you, my husband," she said, her cheeks reddening.
"Christine, you have always pleased me. But I want to please you, as well," he smiled.
She studied him strangely. "Erik…I-I do believe that you already have," she shyly responded, dropping her gaze, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.
He laughed merrily and hugged her tightly to his chest. "No, mon amour, that isn't what I meant…I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" Her eyes lit up with wonder like a child's on Christmas Day. "What is it?"
"We will be leaving to go on our honeymoon this afternoon, and we will be gone for one week," he spoke proudly, "and I believe that you should get dressed now…after you've had your bath, of course." He winked at her secretively.
"Erik! Don't do this to me! You must tell me where we're going so that I know what to pack! Please!" She pleaded until he finally gave in with an exasperated sigh.
"Alright, alright. If you must know, I have purchased train tickets. We leave for Perros-Guirec this afternoon at three o'clock."
Christine gasped in shock. "Perros-Guirec! Oh, Erik! Is it really true? Are we really going back to my old summer retreat?" she cried hopefully.
Erik sat up from the bed, bringing her with him. "Yes, mon ange, it's true. Would I lie to you?" he winked teasingly.
"That's not funny," she frowned at him, wrapping her arms about his bare waist and pulling herself up from the bed with him as he stood. "I have so much packing to do! At times like this, I wish I had a maid again!" she laughed.
Erik rolled his eyes. "Christine, darling, you already have bags packed! I brought them inside last night, remember? And maids are for slothful people…or for women who don't have husbands to help them lace up their ridiculous corsets!" he grumbled.
She laughed exuberantly at his comments. "My darling," she said dramatically, "those bags must be gone through and sorted before I can choose the frocks that I wish to bring, naturally." She raised her eyebrows in jest. "And I shall make sure to bring extra corsets, just for you."
He pulled on his underclothes and she watched him intently while he spoke. "Wonderful…on our honeymoon, no less. I understand that you wish to look 'presentable,' but to me they just seem like a waste of time." He felt her eyes upon him as he pulled a shirt from the wardrobe. "Enjoying the view, ma cherie?" he laughed.
"Quite," she said emphatically, shooting him a broad smile as she turned away to hunt for her own clothing. She pulled three different dresses from her luggage and grimaced. "These are so horribly wrinkled that I may have nothing at all to wear today," she said disgustedly. "Perhaps if I hang one in the bath with me, the steam from the hot water will help?"
"Perhaps," he replied nonchalantly. "And though I wouldn't mind if you wore nothing at all today," he teased her, grinning, "I don't think that they will allow you on the train in your bathrobe."
"No, likely not," she remarked, her face furrowed into an expression of feigned seriousness. She excused herself and headed to the lavatory to bathe. Erik decided that he would have his bath after he was finished packing, so he set to work and was ready before Christine even stepped out of the bathtub. When she returned to the bedroom, she saw that Erik was growing impatient. He appeared to have everything in order for their trip, and he was dressed as if he were going to a formal affair.
"I'd like to get lunch before we leave today, mon ange. It's noon already…we've wasted half the day," he said, glancing at an old watch, which he pulled from his trouser pocket.
"Wasted? I'd hardly call time spent with my new husband wasted," she scowled at him disapprovingly. She glanced at the gold pocket watch. "Where did you get that, Erik? I don't believe I've ever seen it before."
"Oh…Monique gave it to me at dinner last night as a wedding gift. She told me that it had belonged to her husband, Jules. She said that I had been like a son to her and that it was her wish for me to have it," he said softly, recalling the conversation with fondness.
"She has been a good friend to you, hasn't she, darling? What a meaningful gift," Christine replied thoughtfully. "Oh! I completely forgot!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I have something for you as well." Practically beaming, she rushed over to one of her bags and opened it. She pulled out a book that had been tied round with a thick black ribbon and crossed the room to present it to him. "A wedding gift for you, Erik. I hope that you will like it."
Erik was completely surprised. "But…Christine, I-I didn't get you anything!"
"Erik! How can you say that? You've planned our honeymoon, and I believe that you did purchase the rings…and my dress, and my shoes, and the flowers…well, except for your boutonniére. I paid for that myself," she smiled.
"How? Did you get your first paycheck at last, ma cherie?" he asked curiously. Christine nodded. Erik smiled at her approvingly. "You should be very proud of yourself, my darling…I know I am. After all, honest work is something that eluded me for most of my life," he chuckled lightly. He shook his head and looked down at the book in his hands. Releasing the black ribbon, he opened it to the title page. "A Christmas Carol? This is one that I haven't read…thank you very much, mon ange. Perhaps I can read it on the train," he smiled sincerely.
She was pleased with his reaction. "You're welcome. It's a wonderful story."
"Ah, you've read it?"
"Yes. Monsieur Reyer had a copy that he was kind enough to let me borrow at the Opera." She sighed. "Well, I suppose I had better sort through these bags so that we can get to our train on time."
Erik stepped behind her and kissed her curls. "I'm going to head to the Laurent house and give them the information for where we will be staying so that they can reach us if need be."
Christine turned to face him. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll do my best to hurry, Erik." She stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the lips softly. "I can't wait to get there! Where will we be staying?"
"I was able to rent a vacant villa on short notice, near one of the beaches. I hear that there are many shops and castles to see, as well," he smiled at her.
Christine stammered, a bit surprised by the memories that rushed back to her at that moment. "The-the beach? Oh…that should be lovely." She quickly recovered before he noticed her mixed emotions. "I hope it won't be too chilly there, near the water. I'll have to pack accordingly," she stated, trying to sound cheerful.
He grinned at her as he left the room, putting on his outdoor clothing. "I'll be back shortly. I'll need to bathe before we leave, as well," he called to her as he closed the door.
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A/N: Okay, I'll tell you now: the prose that Erik used for their first night together is from the Bible, in the book called "Song of Songs" or sometimes "Song of Solomon." Pretty intereresting stuff, huh? Review, PLEASE!
