(a/n) Okay, chapter seven. does a little dance. I can't believe I'm at chapter seven.
Ziroana: I am happy to hear from you as always. You have become a loyal reviewer.
Countess Alana: Welcome! Yes, "such a little thing really, a kiss . . . most people don't give it a moment's consideration." Why is it that I am unable to resist quoting Kay?
Forever in a bottle: Thanks, glad to hear from you again!
I was tempted to call this chapter "Notes", I'm sure you'll see why. (a/n)
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London, 1890, Erik
As Christine's carriage disappeared around the corner, I could still feel the tender imprint of her lips upon mine. Wonderingly, I raised my fingers to my mouth, caressing the contours Christine had explored just moments before. I had kissed her only a few nights ago, but this was different. She had kissed me—willingly.
My heart felt tight, as I contemplated the meaning. After all I had discovered about her, and now this kiss! I had been horribly disappointed that she had not told me of her past, but that last gesture gave me hope. Perhaps she was not ready to confide in me, but she must care for me! I knew then I had to end this damnable charade; she was not my mistress, a toy to be discarded when I was done with her—she never had been, despite my foolish pretence. I would never be done with her.
If there was to be any hope for us, I knew I had to make sure she understood I expected nothing from her because of my money. I wanted her to come to me willingly. If I held her in my arms, I had to know it was because she wanted to be there, and for no other reason.
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London, 1890, Christine
As I rifled through my mail, I came across a thick envelope, turned it over, and was rewarded with the sight of Erik's sloping script. My heart give a little skip, and my figures were eagerly prying up the wax, when, through the corner of my eye I saw what Erik's letter had been covering. The envelope was sickeningly familiar, and I knew the author even before I turned it over. I groaned. In my preoccupation with Erik I had forgotten all about replying to Reggie.
I opened the note and read the words, feeling slightly nauseated.
My dearest Elise,
I grow saddened by your neglect. I will be quite hurt if you do not reply to my little notes. Really I do not think you can afford to wound me, my dear. I am pining away. Do put me out of my misery and tell me when I may see you.
Ever devoted,
Reggie
God how I hated his stupid games! He insisted on the trappings of dinner and polite conversation just to torment me. It amused him to see me writhe. I just wanted to get the meeting over with. So I swiftly penned him a response setting up the dinner for the very next night. The sooner I saw him, the less time I would have this hanging over my head. I had just sold Percy's last gift to me, the diamond necklace, so the funds were at hand. All I had to do was feed the snake, and he would leave me alone. But for how long?
Even as I transferred my attention to Erik's letter I felt guilty. If Erik discovered my appointment there would be hell to pay.
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London, 1885, Christine
Irresolutely, I stared down at the note in my hand.
Elise,
I need to see you. Come to my house immediately.
Derek
The words were terse, and I could easily imagine him issuing the order in a cold, clipped voice. I had been Derek's mistress for one month now. More than enough time to wish I had never met him. The man was repulsive. Oh, he was not ugly. In fact, although not traditionally handsome, his harshly sculpted features did hold a certain appeal. His body was trim and fit—he was far more athletic than other of my previous protectors had been. At first I had appreciated that, now his strength was definitely to my disadvantage. I feared the man. But I had to leave him.
Derek was my third liaison, and my first experience with real perversion. From the first he had been a little twisted. But gradually his demands had grown more and more debase—the perverted fantasies he asked me to perform filling me with disgust. Soon I realized that my youthful appearance—my apparent vulnerability and innocence—was what attracted him. But far worse was the realization he must have performed some of these fantasies before—in real life. These fantasies involved youth, pain, and even death—bringing home to me just how dangerous he was. I feared for my life. But I was not ready to leave him yet; I needed a plan, some way to hide. His temper was devilish, and I did not doubt that his pride would not accept the insult of my desertion. He would hunt me down.
However I would leave him soon, and I could not afford to make him angry now. I would go and see him.
I informed Brooke that I was leaving, and he did not betray an ounce of surprise. The perfect butler in fact—the man had been with me for just a year and still I had not pierced his impenetrable façade.
Outside I summoned a cab, and as the carriage rolled through the deserted streets, I was very aware of the late hour. While in the cab, I reflected on Derek's note. It was unusual that he would summon me in this manner, since, according to custom, he always visited me—not vice versa.
Upon arrival, I exited the carriage and viewed Derek's town house with a strong sense of foreboding. But nevertheless I mounted the stairs and sounded the massive knocker. I tensely waited for the butler, feeling as if he would never come—and indeed I hoped he would not. However, my hopes were crushed when he opened the door, and proceeded to usher me into a large drawing room filled with the scent of smoke and alcohol. Derek stood by the fireplace, his dark blond hair tousled and his hazel eyes regarding me anticipatorily. But he was not alone. Two other men sat in the room, sprawled out in chairs. Their eyes surveyed my body greedily, and I felt my skin creep with fear—they were all very drunk . . . and very lecherous.
Derek spoke, his words clearly betraying his inebriated state, "Elise," he gestured to the men, "some business associates."
And then he said to the men, "See gentlemen, she is quite a taking little thing. There is only one of her, but she will do very well on short notice. I am quite willing to share."
Panic had filled my soul when I heard those words, but I forced myself to think. I could not allow this to happen! I may have sold my body, but I was not this low yet. I knew I had to stall for time, so I had batted my eyelashes and smoothed my hand over my bodice.
Then in my most alluring tones I declared, "Oh my Derek, I did not expect your company. I am very pleased to meet you gentlemen, but do allow me a moment ready myself."
Trembling, I waited for Derek's reply, sure he would deny me.
But he said with a dismissive gesture of his hand, "Very well, but hurry back my dear."
With a seductive sway of my hips, I left the room, and they allowed me—probably because the wine had clouded their senses. I stealthily departed the house—resolved never to see Derek again. However, that did nothing to settle my nerves. I might have decided to never see him again—but I was sure he would want to see me.
I swiftly began to make my plans; I would simply disappear for awhile. Now I was doubly glad that Belle and Madame Giry were not involved in this. My previous protector, Sir George, had been wildly infatuated with me. He had given me up upon his marriage—a more honorable man than most—but before our liaison had ended I had fully milked his affection, and he had paid for my two houses to be built. Now I felt almost sick with relief that I had installed Belle in the cottage before I met Derek.
I dared not imagine what he might of done had he known of her existence.
That very night I returned to the cottage, and informed Madame Giry of my destination—an obscure little inn in the midst of London. Dear Antoinette, she had been my comfort and my support. Even now at least I knew that should something happen, she was there for Belle. While at the cottage I swiftly changed into a rather drab outfit, a relic of my poorer days that I now wore while cleaning.
I then went to the other house, packed a portmanteau, and informed Brooke I would be gone for a few days. I proceeded to call a cab, and was on my way. When I reached the inn, the sight of it depressed me, but I knew I would pass relatively unnoticed in this dingy neighborhood.
The place was certainly of low repute and I endured several lewd comment and glances as I entered the inn; however, inside it was cleaner, and the innkeeper seemed to be respectable enough. He showed me to my room, a dark little chamber containing only a cot, night table, chair, and a few hooks. I glanced distastefully down at the mattress; it would certainly be lumpy and probably contained bed bugs.
I stayed in my room all of the next day, contemplating what my next step would be. My meals were sent up to my room, and they were really my one distraction. Surprisingly the cooking was rather good.
I was on edge all the time, and knew I would soon have to emerge—if only to keep myself from going mad. As evening fell, I decided that I would just walk downstairs and back up again—for the sake of a little exercise. I descended the stairs and walked down to the foyer, there the innkeeper's wife greeted me.
"Well my dear, I am sure you needed a little walk after having been cooped up all day," she said in a kindly tone, but the underlying curiosity was obvious.
I was about to respond, when I saw her eyes widen in surprise. Fear washed through, just before a hand clamped down upon my shoulder and spun me around.
Derek's eyes glinted angrily, "Did you think you could escape me so easily madam wife?
My eyes shifted wildly back to the innkeeper's wife, "No, please, I am not his wife! Help me!"
She seemed dumbstruck, and Derek certainly did not wait for her response, swiftly dragging my screaming, struggling form to his carriage. He tossed me up into the vehicle, and my head cracked painfully against the wall. He climbed in after me and dragged him up against him, one hand clamped over my mouth, the other arm pressed me to him with a vise like grip. We rode in silence—or rather he was silent, and I was muffled.
All too soon we reached our desperation, and Derek practically carried me out of the vehicle. I twisted angrily in his hold, but to no avail; bitterly I wondered just how much he paid his servants to ignore his activities.
He dragged me through the doorway, and slammed the door closed behind his. The resounding sound triggered a new rush of panic, and I savagely bit down on his hand.
Cursing, he threw me down onto the drawing room floor, and I backed away from him in terror until my back hit the sharp edge of the fireplace.
Barely controlling his anger, he said in a sickening tone of voice, "I should kill you for that, but I have better plans for you at the moment."
Advancing toward me, he latched onto me arm and jerked me up into him, "I've only begun to play with you my dear."
I wanted to scream and run, but I knew fighting him would buy me no quarter. So gathering my scattered wits, I wrapped my free arm around him, "I never said I wasn't willing to play your games—I just prefer if we are the only two participants."
His grip tightened painfully on me, and he hissed into my ear, "I don't care for your preferences; you will do what I tell you."
"All right, I will," I said, tears in my voice, "I've learned my lesson now, I promise."
Even as I said those words I knew he meant to kill me, tonight, tomorrow—it mattered not—I just had to get away! My mind wildly searched for something, anything, and suddenly I had an idea—if it worked I could get away, if not . . . I would surely die.
Crushing my doubts, I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him determinedly. Moving, as if to the divan, I manipulated him to where I wanted. Then, praying it was there, I reached behind me and I felt a thrill as my fingers closed on the heavy marble statue. Swiftly I raised it above my head, and struck with all my might. The statue fell with a sickening thud. Horror and triumph warred in my breast as I watched Derek sway for just a moment before crashing to the ground.
For an instant I was frozen, watching blood pool around Derek's head. Then I let the statue fall from my nerveless fingers, before turning to rush from the room. I had barely made it through the drawing room door when I collided with a figure in the darkness of the hallway. Screaming I hit out at him, and he grabbed my wrist.
His words fell upon my ears like a silky caress, "My dear, there is really no need to make all this fuss. I have no intention of harming you."
As he surveyed my panicked face, his eyes narrowed, "I wonder what has frightened you so?"
"Nothing," I gasped out, "Nothing, just let me go."
"No, I think not. I may be wrong, but something tells me a rather interesting sight awaits me through that doorway."
Still maintaining his iron grip he dragged me with him into the drawing room, and I heard his quickly indrawn breath as he surveyed my work. Pulling me along, he approached Derek's limp form, and bent down to check his pulse.
"Dead," he stated, simply and matter of factly.
"No," I said my eyes wide, "No!"
"Check for yourself," he said callously.
I took him up on his offer, shuddering as I pressed my fingers to Derek's lifeless wrist. Nothing.
My throat choked with sobs. I was a murderer.
"Let's go," he said in a quiet tone. I could not believe my ears. He wasn't going to turn me in to the police?
More willingly, I left the house with him. Once outside, I swiftly began walking away, but he quickly caught up with me.
"No, no," he said, "You aren't going anywhere. Come, you must be distraught, I will take you to my house and serve you a nice cup of tea."
"I'm not going anywhere with you," I announced in a panicked voice.
"My dear, you really have no choice, if you don't cooperate, I'm afraid I will have to inform the police of your activities."
"Why?" I demanded, "Why do you want me to go with you?"
"I just wish to learn a little more about your rather interesting situation. What is your name my dear?"
I stared at him mutely, a stubborn expression on my face.
He shook his head sadly, "My dear, cooperate, cooperate."
"Elise Carpentier," I gritted out.
"I am very pleased to meet you Elise," he said, turning the name into a provocative caress, "my name is Reginald Grantham, but I insist you call me Reggie."
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London, 1890, Christine
As I sat sipping my wine, I watched Erik contemplatively from under my lashes. We had had dinner at his lodgings once again, a location I infinitely preferred to my memory laden courtesan's house. Once again Erik had been charming almost beyond belief. But I knew that he had something on his mind—something that he was now about to reveal to me.
He was seated beside me on the divan, and he slowly turned to face me. His eyes fixated upon mine.
"Christine," he said, his voice soft and caressing, "I want you to know something."
"Yes," I encouraged, despite an apprehensive knot in the pit of my stomach.
He took a breath, "I will not hold you to your half of the bargain. The money is yours to do with as you please."
"But Erik . . ." I faltered, more than a little confused.
"Christine, its not that I don't want you, believe me. But I want the choice to be yours."
I felt tears start to my eyes. My choice!
Suddenly I reached out, mesmerized by the tenderness and vulnerability I saw in his eyes. I caressed his jaw, and drew his head down to meet mine in an agonizingly sweet kiss. I drank him in like a long draught of heady wine, my senses swam, and I seemed to lose all touch with reality.
Abruptly Erik deepened the kiss, his tongue ravaging my mouth, and I responded—a willing victim.
My arms were tightly clasped round his neck, but I loosened one and brought it down over his back, running my fingers over the taut muscles I had admired for so long. He made a little noise of pleasure over my touch, and abandoned my mouth—but I felt only briefly deprived as he transferred his attention to my neck. He pressed hot kisses along that smooth curve, traveling ever lower, to the angle of my collar bone, and then to the curve of my breast. I whimpered in pleasure as he explored my skin, wanting more, so much more.
Skillfully, he lowered my bodice, exposing my breasts to his attentions. I opened my eyes just in time to see his mouth descend to my rosy nipple, and a rush of pleasure flooded my body as he teased me with his tongue.
Gazing down at that incredibly erotic sight, unwelcome memories flooded my mind, memories of other men—nights that had started just like this.
"Erik . . .Erik stop."
Immediately he ceased his ministrations, and immediately I felt bereft. He raised his head to look up at me—his eyes confused and hurt.
"What is it Christine?"
As I stared into his face his mask glinted at me mockingly, a physical reminder of all the lies—all the deception that even now separated us.
"Erik I . . . Erik its just that, I need to think, I . . .I need this to be different. You told me earlier I had the choice. Oh Erik, you have no idea how much that means to me. It's been so long since I had a choice. I'm not leaving you, I promise, I just need to think."
Abruptly he rose, and swiveled, "Alright," he bit out, his tone harsh.
"Erik please don't be angry!"
He sighed, "I'm not angry Christine, confused, frustrated, and upset maybe, but not angry."
"Erik, I didn't mean to . . ."
"Christine, I think it would be better for us both if you went ahead and left."
"Alright," I replied tentatively, "Erik . . . I'll be in touch."
Tugging my bodice back into place I silently left the room and carefully slipped out the front door.
(a/n) wooosh, lets out deep breath. Another chapter! Yay for the weekend! Ok guys you better review! (a/n)
