7
No Marriage Perfect– (One year later)
"Christine, you know how I do not like you staying out that late, especially after what happened."
"Erik, that was almost a year ago, I'm fine!." She shook her head, putting her coat on the rack.
"Oh I'm sure! As if sick men aren't out looking for unsuspecting 19 year old women!"
"Dammit Erik, I'll do as I please!"
"You won't, not when it puts you at some risk of something!"
"Life is nothing without the risks we take."
"Life is hell when those risks destroy us."
She stared at him for a moment. "You're my husband, not my father."
"I'm the damn closest thing you have to a father." He fidgeted slightly. "I'll never be your husband in more than name or legality."
She felt an icy rush of insult flow over her. "I didn't ask you to marry me."
His head shot up, his eyes blazing, his features full of anger. "Would you have preferred to marry a stranger, Christine? Some man you never knew who would have forced you to sleep with him?"
Now the icy feeling was of guilt. "I didn't stop you."
"You asked me not to."
"But I never stopped you. You could have not respected my wishes, what would I have done? Struggle? You are far stronger than me."
Erik glared. "Is that what you want, Christine? For me to force myself on you?"
She returned the glare. "I said you could have. There's no sense in it now."
He looked at her, then to her surprise laughed. "No, not now that I do not desire you. Not now that after sleeping in the same bed for a year I know every curve of your body. Not now that I love you too much to expect that from you."
She stared at him for a moment. "You're damn rotten Erik," she turned on her heel. "Damn rotten." And for the first time in a year, she ran into the Louis Philippe Room.
Erik watched the door slam and sighed, pressing his palm to his forehead in exasperation. He shrugged it off and went to the decanter nearby, pouring himself a glass of whisky. Truthfully, the liquor was only there for when old friends like Nadir came by, he usually avoided spirits, but tonight was a definite exception.
He sat near the fire, sipping the harsh drink. His mind reeled to the argument he had just had with his wife. He flinched at how cold her words before they had departed had been. She was right, he was damn rotten. He tried to control her as if she were some devoted puppy.
But Christine was a free spirit, he had seen that more than ever in this past year. She preferred to do all the cooking, cleaning and whatnot. She read with his company but never asked what things were or how to pronounce words. She tended to sow in the parlor when he was busy doing something else.
Biting back another gulp of the whisky he shook his head. What he had said about being married in name only was very true. They hardly spent time together, they hardly talked like they used to, and the only time they ever touched was unconsciously in sleep.
He cringed thinking of what the next six years would be like. She would probably grow to hate him more and divorce him the moment she got the chance. She would marry Raoul and look back on these seven years with regret and bitterness, if she even looked back at all. He finished his drink and slammed the glass onto the table, where it cracked, then shattered. He never heard the sound or felt the glass tear into his hand, he only thought of her in the other room, pouting over him and this marriage she had been forced into. He didn't hear her door open.
Christine curiously stepped into the hall, making her way down to the parlor. She entered and gasped as she saw her husband sitting, his eyes fixed on the fire, his fingers clutching shards of glass, cutting them even worse. She ran to him, forcing his hand open and letting the glass fall. She tore her plain dress she wore for chores, wrapping it around his bleeding hand. His eyes remained on the fire.
"Erik you're a fool! You'll lose your fingers that way!" He finally blinked and then looked at his hand, squinting at the sudden pain. He saw the blood on the carpeting and on her hands and dress.
"Oh God, Christine I am so sorry." He whispered, collapsing to his knees and fumbling to carefully pick up the glass. She knelt next to him, touching his shoulder so he would look at her, then as he began to hysterically weep she pulled him away from the harmful glass into her arms. He wept into her chest for some time before he pulled away and stood. "I... I shouldn't have...."
She shook her head and stood. "Is that not what we pledged in front of God? To love and to comfort from this day forward?"
He looked at her. "But you, you don't... You could never...."
She laughed. "Oh Erik, just because I'm not in love with you doesn't mean I do not love you in some way!"
He turned from her. "God means for you to make the vow in love."
She shook her head. "God means for us to love our neighbors."
The blaring pain of his hand was nothing compared to what was happening in her heart at this moment. "Christine I don't know how..." He stopped, knowing his truthful words would offend or anger her.
"What?"
He shook his head. "No, it means nothing."
She pressed her hand to his shoulder. "To me it does."
He turned back to her, his face now covered with tears, his mask glistening. "I don't know how I'll live if I do not earn your love."
She smiled tenderly, then reached up and touched his face. "But don't you see? You earn it more and more every day."
"But you love Raoul."
She watched him, saw his pain and decided the pluses outweighed the minuses. She slowly slipped her hand up under his mask, tossing it away, she then nervously pulled him closer to her, standing on her tiptoe's and pressing her lips to his, exploring this feeling for him.
He wrapped her in the heat of his arms, making sure there was no space between the two of them. She sighed against his lips and he hesitantly deepened the kiss, almost in shock as she accepted this gesture. Could this be real? Was he dreaming? No, he felt the biting pain of his marred fingers, more alerting than if he were to pinch himself.
She slowly drew back, gazing up at him. Her eyes were glazed, and he could not tell if she were pleased or disappointed. He reached out touching her cheek and she smiled, turning her head to receive the caress. Amazed he explored every curve of her face, slid his fingers across her lips and nose, she sighed and reached up, pressing her hand over his.
"Christine?" He whispered, she smiled softly and placed her head against his lean with muscle chest, hearing his heart thud, feeling his breath come almost painfully. She went limp against him and he quickly wrapped his arms around her to add balance and support, or surely they would both hit the floor. He was curious as to why she chose to make herself so vulnerable to him in this moment, or why at all. But he said nothing, his earlier question forgotten.
They held each other for some time, acknowledging each other's forgiveness.
Christine hummed softly as she threw the bits of glass into the trash. Erik had gone to bathe and get rid of some of the tension, and she had decided to erase her own with work. Housework had always taken her mind off of her trouble's, and she expected this time would be no different.
She thought of her kiss with him, a dizzying feeling began to fill her as she did. She recalled the warm pressure of his mouth, and the nearly crushing force of his arms. He was so strong in so many ways and she was helpless to resist him. The past year she had tried to be reticent but the way he always looked at her, the way he spoke to her, as if she was a queen, made her want badly to just give in.
But every time she thought she may give a confession of love she thought of Raoul. She could just see him, sitting in a chair by the mantle, watching the minutes on the clock tick by, counting down to her Twenty Fifth birthday. He would then stand and come rushing over and see her in Erik's arms, possibly happy, possibly with children, or at the very least pregnant. She thought of his expression, of sorry and disbelief, then she thought of how well she knew him, and how he would do something drastic at the sight.
Yes, that was the only reason she stayed reticent. She didn't want to hurt Raoul, but the more she protected Raoul, the more hurt Erik became. Sometimes she thought he would hypnotize the words from her, but she knew he wanted to hear them from her, not her subconscious. He wanted her to come wholeheartedly to him. He wanted her to have no fear of the impending consequences, and that was what she wanted too. She wanted to be happy and carefree when she told him, like most giddy teenagers were when they found love. But she was no ordinary giddy teen, and soon she would not be a teen.
My twentieth birthday. She thought. No matter how I feel, that's when I'll tell him. That's when I'll be his and only his. She sighed, wiping her wet hands on her apron, gazing dreamily into the kitchen hearth that was lit for dinner. She set the food and went to check on him, as she always did when he bathed, for he tended to fall asleep.
She went and knocked on the door. "Erik, are you all right?"
She heard him sigh. "Yes Christine, I am fine."
She sighed and nodded, moving from the door and going to light the fire in their room so he would be warm when he went in after his bath, as he always did to fix himself up for dinner. She added a couple of logs, stirred it and watched as the flames grew. She sighed moving out and going to check on dinner.
Erik stepped from the bathroom shortly after, dressed in his usual attire. He went into the bedroom, not surprised that she had made a fire for him, that was Christine for you, always thinking of others. He went, putting his mask on, then combing back his dark hair. He sighed and turned as she entered with an evening dress, and closed the door. She set the dress down and looked at him.
"Erik, I am sorry for everything that I said. I just hate it when you worry too much."
He shook his head and smiled lightly. "I am sorry too. But I can't help but worry, what would I do if something happened to you?"
She sighed and shrugged. "Let's not think like that. Could you help me with these buttons?"
He nodded and she turned, allowing him to unbutton the dress. When he finished she moved to the bed, where she had set the other one. The bed, she had convinced him to buy for them to be able to sleep in together, just a week before their wedding. She carelessly let the work dress fall, not heeding his eyes as her bare back was exposed. She stepped from it, quickly getting into the other. He shivered as he repressed his desire.
She buttoned it on her own and shuffled from the room, going to set the table and then get dinner settled, he sighed, moving from the room to the Library Music Room.
Mwa ha ha ha ha! Hope you likie, sorry I haven't updated in forever, I had some grinches get a couple stories kicked off.