He felt her shivering against him and the hands that stroked his face were cold. He felt the chill in his own body, too.
They were surrounded by total darkness now, but his eyes had long ago grown used to the absence of light. He stumbled to his feet and she rose, too.
"We…we'd better go back now," he said as he took her hand
He said nothing else as he lead her back across the roof to the narrow, rickety stairs that descended back into the theatre.
Her last words had left him shaken and speechless. They were words that he both feared and desperately needed. They confirmed what he had seen in her eyes, yet they still took him by surprise.
She only said it because I begged her to…because she pities me…she cannot mean it.
But he remembered that she had also promised that she would never lie to him.
The realization came with a feeling of guilt, heavy and unfamiliar. He saw a selfishness that could not be denied or altered. She loved him willingly and he could not return that love.
Even when they had crossed the lake, he remained silent as she sank down on the settee. He drew the snow-dampened cloak from her and wrapped one of the velvet coverlets from the swan bed.
He remembered that he had left his mask on the roof. No matter, he had others…many others.
One lay on the desk before him.
What have I condemned this woman to?
He laid his hand on the smooth, old wooden surface and bowed his head.
"Helene, forgive me…I had no right to ask you…I cannot make you love me any more than I could make Christine…"
He had not heard her rise and approach him. But her hand was on his arm and she pulled him around to face her.
"Erik, I am not Christine. And I love you."
She drew his face down to hers and, before he could say a word or even embrace her, she kissed him fiercely.
It seemed like a glorious eternity before she broke away from that kiss.
"You kept me up on the roof so long, Erik," she said lightly, molding her body against his, "that I am quite frozen. Will you warm me?"
"That, Comtessa,' he answered as he slipped his hands beneath the scarlet velvet, "is a task I shall be very happy to undertake."
He carried her up to the swan bed. Setting her down, his lips found hers as he reached around her back to unhook her gown.
She stopped him, though and shook her head.
"Not here, Erik."
She knew now that bed had been meant for Christine Daae. It was not her place, it never would be.
She took his hand and led him to his own small room.
It seemed an eternity before their clothing had been shed and she collapsed onto his bed, holding out her arms to him.
He sank down beside her, kissing her throat, her shoulder, the soft curve of her breast as he pulled her beneath him.
His palms moved in slow gently circles over her entire body. She closed her eyes, eagerly submitting his caresses. The feel of his skin against her swas too wonderful, too beautiful.
He pushed her legs apart with his knee and she opened herself to him willingly as the building desire within her became unbearable.
"Erik, please," she sobbed, hardly recognizing her own voice as she begged him, "please…please!"
"Please? Then tell me again…tell me you love me, Helene."
She opened her eyes and laid her hands against his chest.
"I love you, Erik…I love you…and I need you now…"
She sighed with relief as she felt him within her, her sighs quickly turning to cries of pleasure as he thrust deeper and deeper into her.
Finally, she felt him shudder against her…felt her own body shaken to her very soul.
As she clung to him, she suddenly wondered if they would conceive a child.
After a while, he drew the faded comforter over them both and, shifting her in his arms so that she was resting against him.
"Are you warmer now, Helene?"
"Yes," she said, smiling in the darkness, "much warmer."