Paris woke to the feeling of a hard warm body pressed up against her side and an arm wrapped tightly around her. She relished the feeling for a moment before she opened her eyes and looked up at her husband. A grin spread across her face as she watched him sleep. She felt sore in places she never would have guessed to feel sore in but as she gazed at her husband and saw the small smile that rested upon his lips she knew she would never regret the soreness. She raised herself up a bit so that she could get a better look at Erik.
In the light coming through the window she could see her husband much easier than she had been able to last night in the candle light. His skin was dark just as it had been last night but it was a shade lighter than she had thought. It was a nice golden shade of caramel. She frowned when she saw the thin white scar upon the left side of his abdomen. She traced it lightly with her finger and reminded herself to ask him about it. She raised her eyes back to his face and her smile returned. His hair was spread about his head on the pillow and she couldn't resist running her fingers through it.
Glancing at the clock she saw that it was almost nine. She smiled when she remember Nadir telling her that Erik rarely got up before nine thirty so she decided to surprise her husband with a nice hot breakfast in bed. She climbed out carefully so as not to wake him up and made her way over to the large wardrobe across the room. Inside she found Erik had been storing his extra clothes inside it. She flipped through the robes until she found the smallest one. It was a soft velvet robe made of maroon and black. She pulled it on and resorted to her old way of laughing silently when she saw that it was still much too big on her. She rolled up the sleeves several times until she could at least see her hands but it still dragged upon the floor like a strange train. She shrugged and tied the robe tightly around her tiny waist. She had to wrap the cord around her middle several times other wise it would have dragged upon the floor and would have tripped her.
Paris shook her head with a smile as she glanced once more over at her still sleeping husband. He had rolled over and was now sleeping on his side. She could see the thin scars criss-crossing all over his back similar to the ones that marked hers. He had been through so much pain in his life. Paris only hoped she could make up for it with her love for him.
Paris carefully made her way downstairs and entered the kitchen. Looking around she set to work fixing up breakfast for herself and Erik. She hummed softly to herself as she flipped pancakes and checked on the sausage. She piled the croissants up on a plate and then placed the plate upon the silver serving tray she had pulled out. She poured two glasses of orange juice and set two tea cups aside and placed the coffee pot next to them. The newspaper was out by the front door and she had to remember to pay the young boy who brought it to them the next time she saw him. She picked the paper up and hurried back into the kitchen to gather the two serving trays. Carefully she made her way back up the stairs and went to the master bedroom door.
Paris pressed her ear up against the door but heard nothing so she set a tray down and used her free hand to open it. Then she picked up the tray again and entered the room. Erik was still asleep so Paris closed the door behind her softly with her foot. She padded over to the bed and set the trays upon the bedside table.
"Erik, mon amour, wake up. Breakfast is ready," Paris spoke softly as she gently shook his shoulder. Erik moaned and tried to roll away. Paris giggled softly but persevered. "Come on Erik, wake up. Don't make me pour hot coffee on you."
"Give me a minute," Erik mumbled into the pillow and pulled the sheet up over his shoulder.
"No, I made breakfast in bed!" Paris pouted and crossed her arms.
"Really?" Erik looked over his shoulder at her. When he saw that she was wearing one of his robes he rolled over completely and grinned. "Unless you're the food I highly doubt you made breakfast in bed. You made it down in the kitchen."
"You know what I mean! Now move over so I can get in and feed you. I made croissants," Paris smiled as she revealed the food.
Erik sat up with interest and eyed the food hungrily. He scooted over for Paris who climbed into the bed with the robe still on. Erik smiled at that and ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. Paris handed him a plate filled with everything. Erik eyed it warily before turning his grey blue eyes back to her.
"You want me to eat all of this?"
"Of course, you got to keep yourself healthy. Besides, breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Paris explained as she bit into her sausage.
"I thought I was healthy. I never ate breakfast before," Erik muttered as he spread jelly onto his croissant.
"You are healthy but skipping breakfast is not a good habit. If you just keep doing what you did before you married me you should be fine. Just as long as you eat, of course."
Erik just stared at Paris for a moment trying to figure out what she had just said before he realized that she meant he should still exercise as he had found himself doing in the years of living beneath the Opera House. Erik had taken up swimming in the lake and jogging late at night in the park. Before going to bed he would do sit-ups and push-ups. He had found that exercising was a great way to relax as well as keep him in shape. Seeing Paris glancing appreciatively at him from time to time made him grin. Obviously the exercise was good for other things, he thought.
When they finished eating Erik said he would be working on his music for the afternoon. Paris had smiled and said she would find something to do.
"I might work on the library. Those books still need to be put in the shelves and I could organize them," Paris smiled as Erik gathered her close for a kiss. "But first, I need to get dressed as do you. I don't want anyone coming to visit with you wandering around the house naked as a jaybird."
Erik laughed and held Paris tighter against him. "Worried some girl will decide to steal me away?"
Paris turned and looked up at him, her expression serious. "Yes, despite what you think, you are not ugly."
"You are too kind Madame, but I am afraid I will always disagree with you on that topic. My face is not the most pleasant face to look at unmasked. You are used to it and no longer see it as ugly, others will," Erik insisted with a shake of his head.
"Well, then I guess I won't have to worry about some pretty country girl stealing you away. But I still do not want you walking around the house naked, I might get too distracted and nothing will ever get done," Paris' smile returned quickly as she trailed a finger over Erik's chest and up to his chin where she tilted it down to her lips for a kiss.
"We are newly weds, its okay for you to be distracted. In fifty years from now that's when you have to start getting some work done."
Paris laughed when Erik's whiskers tickled her neck. Pulling back she looked at him with shining eyes. She had always wondered what Erik would look like with a beard but now that she gazed at him with his cheeks covered with black whiskers she decided that he would not look good with a beard. She preferred him clean shaven.
"A franc for your thoughts," he whispered with a smile.
"Don't grow a beard."
Erik stared at her for a moment in shock before he barked with laughter at her comment. Gathering her close he kissed her nose and rubbed his chin teasingly against her cheek.
"You have nothing to fear, love. I will not grow a beard."
Paris smiled and then climbed out of the bed. She gathered the dirty dishes and piled them onto the serving trays to take them back down to the kitchen. Erik rose out of bed after her and padded over to the wardrobe to retrieve a robe. He turned just in time to catch Paris staring at him. When she realized that she had been caught Paris raised her eyes to his guiltily and blushed. Erik just laughed and tied the cord of his robe around him.
"I'll, uh, just take these downstairs and clean them up," Paris stuttered as she turned quickly and hurried out the door being careful not to trip over the trailing ends of the robe she wore. Paris had not been prepared to see her husband standing in the middle of the room completely naked. It was one thing to see him that way when the room was lit only by flickering candlelight for then she couldn't see everything very well. But in the daylight her husband had been exposed completely and Paris had had to remind herself that she had seen it all last night even if some parts of him looked different in the morning light.
Paris took a deep breath to calm her racing heart before she began to clean the dishes and kitchen. It wasn't long before the soothing notes of the piano began to drift into the kitchen from the music room just across the hall. Paris could imagine Erik sitting at the piano his long fingers flying across the ebony and ivory keys, stopping only to write the notes down. Paris closed her eyes as images of what Erik had done to her the night before with those fingers came to mind. With a gasp she opened her eyes quickly as her skin tingled. Her cheeks were hot and she knew she had to stop thinking about that or she would never get anything done.
"I guess I don't need him to strut around naked to distract me after all. My imagination is doing a pretty good job on its own," she muttered to herself as she finished putting the dishes away.
Paris made her way upstairs and into the bedroom she had been sleeping in before her marriage to Erik. She opened her wardrobe and pulled out a cream colored blouse and a reddish purple dress. Once dressed, she pulled on her black boots and ran a brush through her shoulder length hair. Looking at herself in the mirror she smiled with satisfaction before she tied a scarf over her hair to protect it from the dust that was sure to be all over the library.
Humming with the music that drifted out of the music room, Paris made her way downstairs and into the library. The bookshelves had been built into the walls which had pleased Paris greatly for that meant they wouldn't take up extra space. Paris looked around and sighed as she gazed at all the boxes that were scattered all over the floor. They were filled with all the books that Erik had managed to salvage from the destruction of his home. Paris had also packed all of her own books from her flat and they had bought several more before they had left, mostly the ones that had been destroyed by the mob.
Straightening her back, Paris strode over to one of the boxes. Kneeling down she opened it and began to sort through the books. She planned on putting them alphabetically. She lost track of the time as she unpacked and put the books in their proper places. It was well into the afternoon when she was interrupted by Erik's voice.
"You can take a break, you know?" he chuckled as he leaned against the doorframe.
Paris looked up and smiled when she saw her husband. He wore a pair of black pants and a white flowing shirt that was open at the neck and the sleeves were rolled up. His hair was still left loose but he had put his mask back on. He was grinning at her.
"This coming from the man who only takes a break from composing when exhaustion hits him or when someone tells him to stop. What time is it, anyway?" Paris asked as she stretched the kinks out of her back.
"A little after three in the afternoon. Have you not left here since doing the dishes?" Erik frowned.
"I went upstairs to get dressed but that was before I came in here. I guess I just got so involved with the unpacking that I lost track of the time," Paris answered sheepishly.
"Well, come on out of there and join me for a snack. I think you need to eat something now." Erik held out a hand to his wife, his wedding band sparkled in the sun light.
Paris grinned and hurried over to him. He threaded his fingers through hers and then led her into the music room. He had set up a tea set and a plate of coffee cakes. Paris sat down in one of the large cushioned chairs and picked up a cake. Erik watched, amused, as she bit into it and moaned with delight as she chewed.
"Good?" he asked.
"Yes, very," Paris answered as she swallowed the cake down with a gulp of tea.
Erik laughed and sipped his own tea. Glancing over at the piano his smile widened. "I want you to hear the new piece I'm working on. I'm thinking of selling it. No one really knows my real name and if I use it I should be able to sell my music for money."
"Don't we have enough? I thought you had been saving for years," Paris frowned.
"Oh, we have plenty for quiet a few years to come but I would still like to earn some just in case," Erik answered as he walked over to the piano.
"I see, well do you think I could do something in the village?"
"Look around and find out. You might be able to do something with your talents. Maybe you could teach some of the children to play the piano; you're very good at that."
"Maybe. I'll ask Father Michaels if he knows anything. Maybe he can recommend something," Paris smiled.
"That's a good idea; you can do that in a couple of days. Don't want him to think there's something wrong with our marriage already," Erik grinned as he flexed his fingers over the keys.
Paris laughed and nodded. Then she settled back and allowed Erik's music to drift over her like a blanket. No, her marriage was anything but terrible at the moment, she thought with a contented sigh.