Disclaimer: The characters from The Phantom of the Opera are the creations of Gaston Leroux and/or Andrew Lloyd Webber. My characters are based on the portrayals in the 2004 film.
A/N: At the end of Chapter Five, Erik tells Christine that his control where she is concerned isn't very strong. Please read and review.
NO ONE BUT HER
Chapter Six—Hell's Avenging Angel
Her eyes huge, she could only stare at him as he continued, "I know and understand that you must be faithful to Raoul. But . . . I want you just as much as I ever did, and . . . the possibility of my ever having you is still as far away as the moon." He stalked to the window and looked out, his hands gripping the windowsill until his knuckles were white. "When you touch me, I have to fight the urge to take you in my arms and kiss you and—and I know all too well that I have no right to." Will never have the right to!
He flinched as she touched his back. "Please, look at me." He shook his head, gritting his teeth, holding himself absolutely still.
"Please, Erik." He could hear the tears in her voice and made himself turn, looking beyond her at the room behind them. Her hands cupped his face and he inhaled sharply. "I have feelings for you, too," she whispered, "but I need time—time to mourn Raoul, and time to sort out these feelings." Gently she kissed his scarred cheek, then the other, and finally, his mouth.
His arms came around her and he pulled her against his chest, forcing himself to keep the kiss tender and not to plunder her mouth the way he would like. Almost immediately he let her go and she stepped back, not bothering to wipe the tears that ran down her face.
"God help us both," he whispered.
Unable to concentrate for more than a few seconds on any one thing after Christine had left, he put on a clean shirt and paced the length of the terrace several times before he flopped in one of the chairs. He couldn't say exactly what was making him so restless, other than what had caused an almost constant restlessness in him for more than four years. At least she finally admitted that she has feelings for me, he thought, a tiny smile sneaking onto his face.
But what kind of feelings are they? a voice in his head nagged him. She could simply want to be friends. That brought him back up out of the chair to resume his pacing.
He stopped suddenly, a tremendous sense of foreboding sweeping over him, leaving him shivering in the warm summer breeze. Christine's frightened face flashed before his eyes, and he knew she was in trouble. Racing to the stable he saddled the stallion and as an afterthought, grabbed up the sword he had not used in four years. Be brave, Angel—I'm coming! He swung up on the big horse and they took off at a run.
Christine had driven only a few miles from Erik's house when she realized someone was following her, and trying to keep from being noticed. With dismay she noticed the growing thunderclouds and tapped the horse on the rump with the buggy whip to increase its speed. Whoever was trailing her also speeded up, and she felt her heart climb into her throat.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for me," she whispered over and over, letting the horse have its head. Raoul had bought her a revolver of her own and had made her practice with it, but she had left home without it, or any other type of weapon, save the buggy whip.
Her pursuer grew bolder with each passing minute and she fought a rising sense of panic. Oh, God! Oh, Raoul! Erik! Help me!
Suddenly above the sounds of the wind and the approaching storm, she heard the rapid pounding of hooves very nearby. A dark horse appeared on the left side of the buggy, and she screamed as its rider leaped from the horse's back onto the buggy seat. For an instant she tried to fight him for the reins, but he was too big and too strong.
She screamed again, only have a meaty fist connect with the side of her head. Falling to the floor, Christine saw stars and her ears rang for a minute. Her hand touched something on the floor—the buggy whip. Carefully she grasped it, and turned slowly to look at her abductor. He paid no attention to her and she swung the whip at his head as hard as she could. It caught him on the face near his eyes and he yelled in pain, jerking the reins.
Erik heard her screams and he kicked his horse into a fast gallop. Closing the distance between them, he saw the buggy swerve to one side. He rode up on the right side and saw Christine fighting the man driving. Spurring his horse, he rode in front of the buggy, making the horse rear. Before its hooves hit the ground, he was off his own horse and brandished his sword at the man driving.
"Get out!" His tone murderous, he stalked closer and in a series of moves too fast to follow, cut the man deeply twice on each arm and once across the belly and chest. "I said, get out! Unless you want me to carve you into tiny pieces where you sit!"
The man scrambled down from the buggy, his hands pressed to his chest, trying to stop the flow of blood. "Now—who sent you? Who paid you to kidnap this woman?" When the man didn't answer, Erik slashed down with his blade, opening a new wound on the man's leg.
"I swear, guvnuh, I don't know! I never saw his face—he just told me to wait here and what the woman looked like!"
For a long moment Erik stared at him then he waved the man away. "Get out of here," he snarled, "and if you so much as think about this lady again, I'll track you down and kill you." He watched as the man stumbled away then slid the sword back in its scabbard.
Once the would-be kidnapper was out of sight, Erik turned to Christine. She sat slumped on the buggy seat, her shoulders shaking with sobs. "It's all right, love; he's gone. Shhh—don't cry! You're safe now—I won't let anything happen to you." He climbed into the buggy and she came into his arms without hesitation.
"Oh, Erik! I was so frightened! All I could think of was that I was going to die and the children would be orphans." Shuddering, she held onto him tightly, burying her face in his chest, heard his heart pounding in time with hers. She felt him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Carefully, gently, he rubbed his hand up and down her back, and the warmth of him, of safety, slowly began to replace the iciness of her fear. Pulling away a few inches, she looked up at him, tears filling her eyes anew. "Thank you," she whispered, and reached up to kiss his scarred cheek.
The brief touch of her lips sent warmth rushing throughout his body, and he steeled himself to show no reaction. Animal! he snarled at himself in disgust. She's just been frightened out of her mind—she damned well doesn't need anything more to deal with! Clearing his throat, he replied softly, "You're welcome, Angel."
He moved her away from him, and she made a small sound of protest. "I must tie my horse to the back of the buggy. I'm not sure he would follow us on his own. You'll be all right for a moment?" When she nodded he drew a line down her cheek with a fingertip, murmuring, "Brave little angel."
Within seconds he was back, getting in on the right side of the buggy. At her curious look he explained, "It will be easier to have my injured arm around you, rather than trying to drive with just that one arm." He tucked her against his left side and slapped the reins. The horse took off with a jolt, but soon settled into a smooth, easy pace.
Feeling her still trembling, he said, "Put your arms around me, Christine. At the very least you should be a little warmer that way. He held his breath until he felt first one, then the other arm creep around his waist. She turned so that her head rested against his chest and he felt her breathe out slowly.
Luckily the storm passed them by and they arrived at the estate in less than a half hour. Erik spoke to her softly. "Christine? We're ho— we're there." She didn't respond and he pulled the horse to a stop in front of the house. Carefully he moved her arms from his waist and leaned her against the left side of the buggy. He got down and quickly tied the horse then gently lifted her in his arms. Before he started up the stairs, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "Oh, Angel," he whispered brokenly, "I don't know what I'd have done if I'd lost you a second time."
He kicked open the door and brought a crown of servants running. Marie Giry led him upstairs to Christine's room and he shouldered his way inside, laying her carefully on th bed. "I think she's unconscious," he said worriedly, rubbing her hands between his to warm them. In short, terse sentences he told Marie what had happened, and her face grew pale.
"Thank le bon Dieu that you arrived in time," she said fervently, crossing herself. "Help me loosen her dress." When he didn't comply, she looked over at him. "Erik!" she said sharply.
He instead moved to the foot of the bed and unhooked Christine's boots, sliding them from her feet. By that time Marie had unbuttoned her dress and was pressing a cool cloth to the younger woman's forehead. Christine's eyelids fluttered and she opened her eyes with difficulty.
"What happened?" she murmured groggily. Erik saw the fear in her eyes when she remembered exactly what had happened, and he moved quickly to her side.
"Shhh, angel, it's all right. You're home now, and safe with Marie and your family." He sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed her hair back from her face.
"Keep telling me that and perhaps I'll believe it in a few days," she told him, her eyes filling with tears. "Thank you again, for saving me. When I think of what would have happened if you hadn't come when you did—"
"Put it out of your mind right now," he ordered, taking her in his arms and rocking her gently. "I did arrive in time and that's all that matters." He made an attempt to rise from the bed but Christine held onto his hand and he sat back down.
"The children!" Anxiously she looked at Marie, who assured her that Stephen and Annaliese were both sound asleep. "I have to see them," she said, and swung her legs over the side of the bed, only to sway and almost fall when she tried to stand.
Erik caught her immediately and she insisted, "I have to see my children." He carried her, following Marie as she went to the adjacent room. Tears clogged his throat as he set her on her feet between the small beds, watching as she lovingly touched their cheeks and kissed their foreheads. Seeing her sway again, he slid an arm around her and she leaned into him gratefully.
"Time for Maman to be in bed, too, I think," he murmured in her ear as he steered her back to her room.
Amazingly she woke only once during the night gasping in panic, and he was by her side in seconds to calm and comfort her. When Marie came in with chocolate and warm, crusty rolls in the morning, he had fallen asleep on the bed, on top of the covers, one arm protectively around Christine's waist. The older woman smiled at the picture they made, and thought, Perhaps soon everything will be as it should.
A/N: Dear Abbie, thanks for your nice review! After I'd read some of the other Phantom stories here, I was beginning to think that my Erik would seem pretty wimpy. The ruthlessness is still there, but he's had a lot of time to think in the last four years. Please keep reading!