Chapter Twenty
Raoul forced Christine into the carriage, stowing her trunk in the back before climbing in beside her and taking hold of the reins.
"We shall have a good time tonight... Forgive me if I am a bit rough."
Christine said nothing, keeping her eyes focused ahead of them. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop him if she wanted Erik and Brigitte to survive. He knew he would have her body that night, and she was powerless to stop it, even if she begged him not to.
x
Erik rose from the davenport, and ran to the bedroom, changing from his nightclothes into shirtsleeves, trousers, a jacket, and a cape. In its folds he hid the lasso. Once he was sure he had everything, he exited the house and boarded a carriage. The vicomte surely was mad if he believed that Erik would let her go again; he was finished with that. After trying to do the "right thing" so many times, he no longer cared. He just wanted to be with Christine. He drove the horses as quickly as they would go, hoping that he would get there in time.
x
Christine and Raoul entered the bedroom. Roughly, he ripped the robe from her body, leaving her in her chemise. He eyed her lustfully a moment before following suite with the rest of her clothing. She stood naked before him. She'd grown supple, more so than the last time he saw her, truly saw her.
"Christine, your turn now. I will not do all this myself."
"I'm afraid you will have to... You're the one who wants this." Slowly, he approached her and stood before her a moment before striking her across the cheek for her impertinence.
"You want this too, darling. Do as I say." Christine clutched where he had hit her, blood beginning to trickle from her cheek.
"You bastard," she whispered, tears of fear and hate gathering in her eyes.
"Those are strong words for the one you love," he replied, as he loosened his belt and pulled his shirt over his head. "Look at me, Christine," he ordered, as he shed the rest of his clothing. His small length had grown hard at the site of her bare body. "Touch me," he barked.
"No," she breathed, backing away from him and making to cover her naked skin. He grabbed her wrist and forced her hand to his manhood, at the same time moving his free hand to her breast and squeezing it roughly.
x
Erik's carriage pulled up at the estate and quickly disembarked his carriage. Knowing that there would not be any servants awake at this hour, he broke entry to the home himself, as quietly as he could. He hoped that he was not too late as he ascended the stairs, searching blindly for the vicomte's bedroom.
x
Christine cried out in pain as he gripped her tender breast. Trying to break free of his hold on her wrist. "Stop," she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. "Please, Raoul... stop."
"No... We've come too far for that," he said, as he forced her hand to move in rhythm over his length, causing him to emit moans of pleasure.
x
Erik quickly located the master room, feeling thoroughly disgusted and enraged as the vicomte uttered sounds of pleasure.
x
Christine continued to struggle, but knew it was no use. All she could do was continue her useless pleas.
"Stop," she repeated over and over as he forced her to touch him, his hand clutching her breast tighter and tighter as his moans increased in volume.
x
That was enough for Erik. Silently, he entered the room, pulling the lasso from the folds of the cloak. Thankfully, the vicomte's naked back was to him, as Christine knelt before him; she, of course, saw him, but remained silent. He snuck up behind deChagny, who was too absorbed in a delirium of pleasure to notice. Just as he emitted an especially loud moan, Erik threw the punjab around his neck, and began to wring the life out of him.
The feeling of helplessness and total vulnerability had been too much for Christine. She began to weep, backing into a corner, and clutching her knees to her naked chest, as she watched her husband begin to slowly succumb to death. She did not know what to think, or how to feel.
Finally, the vicomte drew his last ragged breath. Erik rushed to Christine, who was kneeling, sobbing, in the corner. "Christine," he whispered. She reached out for him to hold her, unable to speak. He drew her into his arms protectively, stroking her hair and naked back.
"I'm so sorry, darling..." She buried her face in his neck, her tears wetting his shirtsleeves. He held her tenderly a moment, letting her cry, before asking quietly, "Can you stand, my love? I think it would be best it we left this place quickly."
"I don't have any clothes..." she whispered.
He took his cloak off and helped her wrap it around her naked body; even when he averted his gaze he noticed the bruises that the bastard had left on her. He pulled the lasso from around the vicomte's neck, not wanting to leave anything behind, before lifting Christine into his arms and descending the staircase. He set her into the carriage gently, climbed up next to her and setting the carriage off for their home.
"I'm sorry you had to do that..."
"Do what?" he asked as the carriage pulled up to the gate.
"... Kill him."
"Oh. Do not think of that now. It was necessary, for your safety." He got out of the vessel and helped Christine down as she kept the cloak wrapped tightly around her.
"Did you leave Brigitte here alone?" Christine asked tonelessly.
"Yes, dear. I had little choice," he replied, opening the door and lifting her into his arms once again as they descended the stairs. After setting her down in the bedroom, he asked, "Can you get dressed while I check on the baby, darling?"
Christine nodded wordlessly. She was feeling quite strange and empty... Much like the night when she had first been with Erik, but this time it was much worse. She changed into a chemise and nightgown, then laid down on the bed, the events of that night replaying in her mind over and over again.
He returned. "She is fine," he said quietly, swiftly changing into the previously discarded nightshirt and climbing into the bed with her. She said nothing, just continued to stare up at the ceiling above her.
"Goodnight," he whispered, entirely unsure of what to do.
"Do you think that he loved me?" she asked abruptly, not hearing his words.
He was surprised by her question; nonetheless, he considered it thoughtfully. "Not as I do... But I believe he did to some degree, as it was jealousy that drove him to do what he did. Perhaps..." he trailed off, unsure of how to finish. He hoped that satisfied her, as this was quite a delicate topic.
"To think what would have happened if you hadn't come when you did..." she broke off, feeling her tears begin to fall once again.
"But I did come," he replied soothingly, "Do not think of what might have occurred... You will simply make it more painful for yourself."
"I can't help it... All these images keep playing over and over in my head..."
"Darling... I suppose they will, for some time, but they will fade eventually. You must try to forget."
"... And I can't help but wondering if I was getting what I deserved... For being unfaithful..."
"You were not being unfaithful... If you did not love him. You did not deserve such horrible treatment, you never would, no matter what you had done."
She turned on her side to face him. "What happens when they find out what happened?"
"There is no way they could know who... did it," he replied awkwardly, assuming that was what she meant.
"How can you be so sure?" she whispered, her voice breaking.
"How could they?" he asked rationally. "No one was awake... I assure you we were not seen."
"I... I don't know..." Her mind was simply working in overdrive, and her imagination was getting the best of her.
"Darling, you need some rest... I understand if may be hard, but please, try to sleep... Is there anything I can do?"
"Could you just... hold me?"
"Of course..." he said, turning her and drawing her close to him, her back against his stomach. "Goodnight," he whispered into her ear.
"Goodnight." She longed to tell him she loved him, but the words simply could not come to her.
"I love you, Christine."
"I know..." she whispered, tears slipping from her eyes. She felt horrible, but the events that night had somehow made her unable to express her feeling easily...she knew it would be a long time before she would be able to trust fully again—even if it was with Erik.
He was slightly hurt, but he understood (or at least tried to), and settled for that before drifting off to sleep.