Chapter Twenty-three
A strange sound disturbed her and she sat up in bed.
It was unlike anything she had ever heard, a cross between a child's cry of terror and a scream of painful rage.
Erik had let go of her and, with one tense hand, he seemed to claw desperately at the mask which lay askew on his face.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I'm sorry…please…don't make me!"
She knew he was still asleep, drawn into some nightmare…recalling some horror that she couldn't begin to imagine.
Carefully, she pulled his hand from his face and drew off his mask.
"Hush, Erik, hush," she said, soothingly as she caressed his cheek, "hush, no one will make you. I won't let them."
She cradled him in her arms, let his head rest against her breast.
Il mio Dio, what has the world done to him? What did they do to him?
Ever so slowly, she felt his body relax against hers, but she did not let him go.
In the morning, she opened her eyes to see him dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. There was no sign of the night's torment on his face.
"I didn't mean to disturb you," he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"Erik, have you been here very long?"
"I was watching you sleep," he admitted, "for a little while."
"I hope you weren't too bored," she laughed, sitting up and throwing her arms around him.
"No, I could have watched you forever," he told her, "forever."
"Shall I go back to sleep then," she teased, running her hand over the fine wool of his jacket.
"No," he said, his voice becoming serious, "there's something I need to say to you."
He paused, guiding her hand up to his mask.
"Helene, thank you."
"For what, Erik," she asked, trying to feel the warmth of him beneath the smooth leather.
"For last night."
She couldn't answer him. She was certain she would never forget the pain she'd heard. She gave in and let herself cry.
He tipped her face up towards him. He kissed her, hesitantly at first, letting himself taste damp, saltiness of her skin.
As he laid his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back down onto the pillows, the look he saw in her eyes frightened him.
Don't let her love me…I couldn't stand it…
He pulled off her nightgown and buried his face against the softness of her breasts.
Don't let her love me…no one can love me now.
She sank willingly under the weight of his body, twisting her body against his and sighing his name as he took her ever so slowly.
But he knew it was too late. The realization struck through to his soul as he felt her succumbing to him.
She was already in love with him.
He had seen that look in Christine's eyes when she flew into the Vicomte's arms that night…
This woman loves me…and I cannot love her in return.
Later, he brought her up to the rooftop. He had not been up to the leads since long before the fire, since the night of Christine's betrayal.
It was a cold gray day and the clouds were thick and close as they walked slowly along the parapet.
He saw her pull her shawl closer and shiver a little.
"Are you cold, Helene? We can go back."
Erik, Erik…there is no going back…
"No, Erik, I'm not very cold. I'd rather stay a little longer. I'd rather stay up here and talk."
She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to know every pain, every horror life had inflicted on him. But she knew if they went back, she would find herself in his bed.
She wanted that more than anything, but she also want his trust.
He let his cape swirl around them both and they found a place to sit beneath a badly damaged statue.
"Erik, that night…the first night…you asked me to talk to you, to tell you about my marriage."
She hesitated, almost afraid to ask.
"Please, I want to know about you now. I want to know everything."
His arm tensed around her waist.
"No, you don't want to know everything."
Beneath the shelter of his cape, she place her hand over his.
"I do, Erik. I want you to trust me enough to tell me everything. Please, don't spare me."
"You don't know what you are asking of me!"
She shrugged off his arm and jumped to her feet.
"If you won't tell me, Erik, I shall go home. To Sicily."