In Harmony

Andrew Crawford proved a valuable acquaintance to the Rousseaus, as he was not only a fair and generous employer, but was a man that Erik could actually respect. Crawford had even manage to provide Erik with a strange reversal of roles. The older man had never once seemed to spare a glance at Erik's mask, always meeting his eyes evenly without flinching, yet Erik's gaze had drifted more than once to the cane and the limp. The action had not gone unnoticed by his employer, and Crawford had amiably broached the subject.

"It's wooden, my boy."

Erik's eyes had shot up at the statement. "Excuse me?"

"My leg. I've caught the curiosity in your eyes. It's quite all right, I am used to such things. I suspect perhaps you are, as well." Erik colored, but he found that his temper, for once, did not ignite. Crawford continued on, "I was thrown from a horse as a child, a rather nasty fall. My leg was twisted under me, the bone shattered and skin gashed open. The doctors tried to save it…though the limb would have been rather useless regardless. When infection set in, they'd no choice but to take it." He reached down and lifted his pant leg a bit, showing the polished wood beneath and giving it a playful knock with the end of his cane. "It is mostly just for show, to ease the simple minds of others. I'd much rather burn the damned thing and be done with it."

Erik's fingers absently lifted to trace the edge of his mask. "Forgive me…I should not have…"

"Nonsense!" Crawford laughed, patting Erik on the shoulder. "It does not matter, Erik. The measure of a man lays in his heart and mind."

Erik nodded absently, shaken more than he'd cared to admit by Crawford's words. When he had later told Christine of the conversation, she had smiled through a sheen of tears, telling Erik that she'd very much like to meet Mr. Crawford because she already adored him. She would enlist anyone she could to show Erik the true beauty of his soul, and she was grateful that God had led her husband to Andrew Crawford.

And Erik was grateful that Andrew Crawford led him to the perfect house for Christine. At the discovery that he was seeking to purchase a residence for his young wife, Crawford had personally driven him to a property he'd been aware of. The small manor was nicely situated close to the shore just off Barton Back on the road to Canterbury. The previous owner had passed on, and with no heir to inherit, the house had been recently been placed for sale.

The structure was hidden from the main road, surrounded by trees and greenery, with a stone wall lining the drive. The house was more than large enough to meet the needs of a newly married couple and a growing family, and even had enough space to welcome a guest or two, as well. The grounds to the rear were exquisite, with a garden, a small orchard, and a view of the beach and ocean that lay only a short walk away. Erik knew at once that it was meant for Christine.

Still, he had thought twice before acting, wanting to make certain she would approve, as he'd not really done well when he'd tried to make decisions for her in the past. In this case, however, he'd have had better luck, because the moment Christine had seen the house for herself, she had fallen in love with it. Her expression held the same wonderment that Erik had seen when he'd first showed her his home under the opera. His wife had wanted the house, and Erik made certain that she would have it.

Once again, Mr. Crawford had aided his employee, having been acquainted with the barrister who'd handled the Howard estate. The sale was hastened through, with Crawford acting as a reference, and the Rousseaus had been able to move into their new home in a few short weeks.

The house had been cared for in its vacancy by the former housekeeper of Mr. Howard, a woman named Katie Callahan. Christine and Erik had met the woman when they had first toured the house, and Christine had instantly liked her. It seemed natural that they should ask her to stay on, though Erik was wary of such a thing. He'd never been the master of a house, and hated the idea of having anyone under foot. Yet he knew they would need someone to run the household, and he could not bring himself to deny Christine something she wanted. Katie had happily accepted the position.

The woman was kind and unobtrusive, careful to respect her mistress's instruction to mind her husband's privacy above all else. Katie was familiar with eccentric employers, and she secretly doubted that her new master could match some of the strange requests that Mr. Howard had made of her. She was pleased to be able to stay on with the young mistress, especially with a little one on the way. It had been years since she'd held a baby, and she was looking forward to having the pleasure once again.

Christine was decidedly relieved to finally move out of the Gate Inn. She could barely contain her excitement at spending the first night in her house, with her husband. After supper, they had retired to the music room, though it was not yet completely furnished. It had been a necessity for both of them to devote one room in their home to the passion for music they both shared. Christine had been away from the stage only a short time, but already she missed it more than she'd imagined she could. Yet her longing was nothing compared to Erik's need to have his music once again. She had watched him eyeing the piano at the Gate Inn, but he had refused to play in so public a setting. His music was far too passionate in nature for the confines of a quaint English tavern.

Now, sitting beside him at the polished ebony piano, she felt the familiar magic surging through her blood once again. Erik had played the aria from Hannibal for her, bidding her to sing it for him. She cringed a little at first, hearing how her voice had suffered from lack of use these past weeks, and she suspected her pregnancy might be having some affect, as well. She was just beginning to show a little, and the new weight on her diaphragm gave her a bit of trouble reaching some of the notes.

Erik had certainly noticed, but he'd not slipped back into the role of strict tutor. He was far too content at the moment just to hear her sing for him again. There would be time later to retrain her voice, to prepare her for a return to the opera. And she would return. He would make certain of that. He stroked his fingers over the keys of the piano lovingly as he slipped from Think of Me into his Music of the Night. It was a fine instrument, nowhere near the grandeur of his pipe organ, but one must learn to make due. As he sang, he felt Christine inch closer to him on the bench, one curious little hand brushing over his back and curling into his hair. The other skimming over his thigh. He turned his gaze towards her, pleased to see her dark eyes glittering with desire.

'Floating, falling, sweet intoxication
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation.'

Christine did just that, tracing her hand lovingly over his face.

'Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in.'

A wicked smile curved her lips as the hand on his thigh inched higher.

'To the power of the music that I write.
The power of the music of the night…'

Christine leaned forward, nipping at Erik's jaw.

'You alone can make my song take flight.
Help me make the music of the night.'

Her mouth was pressed to his even as the last note faded. Erik growled low in his throat, the combination of that song in this house with his wife intensifying his desire. He reached down and lifted her against him, shifting them as best he could until she was half across his lap on the narrow bench, one strong arm snaked around her waist to hold her securely to him. He deepened the kiss, tangling his free hand into her silken curls.

Christine tugged at his cravat until it was loose and she pulled it away, dropping it carelessly to the floor. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, spreading open the edges. Wicked thoughts of him taking her right here next to the piano filled her mind. Erik uncurled his fingers from her hair, trailing them slowly down, over the wildly jumping pulse at her throat, the curve her collar, skimming the swell of her breast. Christine tore her mouth from his, hissing in pleasure. She felt wild tonight, nearly out of control.

Squirming on his lap, she freed herself momentarily from his hold and stood. Erik's eyes darkened as he reached for her again, "Christine?" She lightly batted his hand away and, with a wicked smile, she lifted her skirts enough to straddled his legs as he sat on the bench. A stunned smile curved his mouth at her bold action, and she bent to kiss him again. Her position allowed her to finish opening his waistcoat and shirt, and she tugged at them until Erik helped her by shrugging them off completely. She raked her nails lightly over his back as she reigned little kisses across his jaw and down to his shoulder. His muscles tensed and rippled under her touch. "Oh, Christine, mon ange, mon amour."

His hands wrested the silk fabric of her blouse free from her skirt and tore the buttons open, sliding up to cup her breasts. Christine had stopped wearing a corset two weeks ago at Erik's insistence, and only the thin material of her chemise separated her flesh from his. Yet that small barrier was suddenly too much. Erik became aware that as enticing as this position was, logistically, it simply did not permit him to love her as he ached to. He tucked his hands firmly under Christine and stood, kicking the piano bench back as he did so.

The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a window bench and a small chaise in the far corner. He could carry her upstairs to their bedroom, mindless of their state of undress, but even that seemed too far away at the moment. He turned and settled Christine onto the chaise, and she gazed up at him with passion in her eyes. Erik made quick work of removing the last scraps of clothing from her body. Before he could straighten to see to his own, Christine came to her knees, hooking her fingers into the waist of his trousers and tugging him forward. "Come here, Erik."

His elegant black brow arched, but he obeyed his wife's command, settling his body across the length of the chaise as Christine shifted over him. Her wild curls fell in a curtain around her face as she leaned forward to kiss him. She evaded his arms when he tried to pull her closer, instead slipping down his body and slowly stripping away his trousers and shoes. She came back to him with a smile, teasing him with little kisses to his chest and jaw, causing Erik to groan and curl his fingers tightly around her hips.

Laying her hands against his chest, Christine sat up astride him, sinking down slowly to take him inside. His eyes glazed slightly as he stared up at her, thinking she seemed a goddess in that moment. Her skin glowed golden in the flickering lamplight. Her lips parted and swollen from his kisses, her eyes dark and glistening with desire, and her body lush and ripening with the child she carried. Erik traced his hands across her skin, learning the curve of her belly with his fingers. Christine smiled down at him, her luminous eyes falling closed as she began to move.

They surrendered to the matchless delight of becoming one body, one heart, one soul. Time lost meaning, the evening darkening around them…the very stars themselves could have fallen from the sky…all that mattered to Erik and Christine was the world they created inside that room. A world that trembled, erupted in a fiery explosion of light and darkness, and finally grew still and quiet again.

It was a very long time later before the master and mistress of the house would emerge from the music room, half dressed, and sneak upstairs to give their bedroom equal attention.

A/N: Well, they had to christen the house properly, right?