Disclaimer: I did not create these characters, unfortunately. If I had, Christine would have realized right off the bat that it was Erik her heart chose...

Chapter 4: The Union of Two Enamored Souls

Christine

The fever had taken a heavy toll on my body, and I knew I would have to remain in bed for at least another day or two, perhaps three. Erik tended to my needs with all the solicitousness of a mother hen, making sure I ate properly, and even bathing me himself...He discharged this last duty with great tenderness, but I was well aware of the effect it had on him. I, too, felt sweetly and powerfully aroused by his loving ministrations; I endeavored to remain almost indifferent, however. Yet, he must have noticed that I was not entirely so. How could I be, when he scrubbed me with the soap and hand towel in such a maddeningly intoxicating manner?

On the afternoon of the third day, I gently told Erik that I thought I would be capable of bathing without his help. He insisted on doing it, protesting that it would be a great pleasure for him. Of this I had no doubt! I could have certainly been adamant about the matter, but a curious lassitude suddenly stole over my limbs, and so I allowed him to sweep me into his arms and carry me into the bathroom, where he almost reverently divested me of my nightgown, and very carefully placed me into the bathtub, which was already filled with warm water.

It became apparent at once that his intentions went beyond mere cleanliness...His eyes had taken on a glittering intensity as he gently soaped me, moving the hand towel much too slowly for the purpose it was meant for. I could hear the change in his breathing. Suddenly he stopped, staring at me with unmistakable desire in his eyes. I met his gaze calmly, feeling its heat, and allowing it to inundate me with a heady ecstasy, while I in turn expressed my love to him only with my eyes. Thus we gazed upon each other for a few moments, and I knew that he was, ironically, fighting for control. The space that separated us became charged with an almost unbearable tension...I did not think I could tolerate much more, as my breathing had become as labored as his. Just when I thought I would scream from the agony of not being captured in his arms, he spoke. It was only one word: my name, whispered with such longing, such contained desire, that I felt a wave of tenderness overtake me.

"Christine..."

"I will never love another as I love you, Erik," I whispered, as if answering an unstated plea.

With a low growl of pure male possessiveness, he stood, and bending down, scooped me from the bathtub, hastily wrapping me in a bedsheet he had previously brought into the bathroom, and grabbing a large towel to dry my body with. He then carried me into Nadir's bedroom, as we left a trail of water behind us. Neither one of us cared at the moment.

Nadir was out for the afternoon, a fact Erik had known, and which he now told me when I questioned him about the Persian. Ah, so he had planned this...he had decided to seduce me. A shiver of delight went through my body as I realized this.

He gently laid me on the bed, leaving enough room for himself next to me. Sitting down beside me, he proceeded to dry me thoroughly with the towel. When he had finished, he threw the towel across the room, where it landed on top of an armchair, and turned back to me. He remained sitting on the bed, studying me, while his heavy breathing betrayed the strength of the passion he was feeling. Oddly, he made no move to lie next to me, nor did he attempt to take me in his arms. This surprised me, as I had thought he would immediately continue with his cleverly planned seduction. I would not have stopped him. Indeed, my mind had temporarily deserted me, and I wanted only to feel. I wanted to feel his body on mine, to possess and be possessed by him, and the devil take the consequences! Madame Giry, had she but known, would have been aghast. I would not have cared.

He gazed at me steadily, for what seemed too long...Then, leaning over, he softly caressed my cheek with those incredibly beautiful, long fingers. I captured his hand, and, bringing it to my lips, kissed his palm. I would have brought it down lower on my body, but he resisted. That puzzled me.

"Christine..." His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper. "Oh, my love, do you see the effect you have on me? Yet I wonder if I should take your innocence without further thought...I had indeed planned this, but now, I ask myself if I should follow through with it."

I smiled, tears beginning to gather at my eyelids. His concern for me was so touching... "I want to be entirely yours, Erik."

His eyes widened, in a mixture of love, desire, and something which I would never have expected to see: fear. Sighing, he took my hand in both of his, and pressed it to his heart.

"You would not wish to be married first, my sweet angel?" he asked, staring deeply into my eyes, his own eyes glowing with the intensity of the feelings he strove to hold in check. "This was really not a good idea. I would prefer you to be my wife, not my mistress."

The tears began slipping from my eyes. I gave him my most loving smile, and answered, "Will you consider leaving me after I have given you my virtue? Will you consider me a fallen woman, and abandon your plans to marry me?"

Lifting my hand to his lips, he kissed it with deep love. "Never, my Christine. If you can love a murderer, I can love a woman who has given herself to the man who will soon be her husband."

I smiled again, and opened my arms to him. "Come to me, my beloved," I said, with barely contained emotion.

His sharp intake of breath told me everything -- how much he loved and cared for me, how beautiful I was in his eyes, how precious this act of intimacy was to him. With the greatest tendernesss, he came to me, covering my mouth with his, to give me the sweetest, lingering kiss. I closed my eyes, entirely surrendering to him, body and soul...

Erik

In all the years of my horribly distorted life, I could not have imagined that such happiness as this was available to mortal beings. To clasp in my arms the beloved of my dreams, to whisper tender love words to her, to watch her passionate, yet shy, response to my caressess, was more intoxicating than the strongest liquor...We loved each other with a gentle, yet fierce, possession, giving and receiving pleasure with the utmost joy. We made our vows to each other in the heated exchange of kisses, with no other witnesses but ourselves and the God who had thrust us into the mystery of existence. But then, as we continued to kiss and stroke, I whispered to her that we would be repeating these vows before a priest as soon as we were able to find one. I could not possibly tolerate Christine not being officially my wife, as I did not want her to suffer the stigma society attached to a man's mistress.

Once she had gotten past the pain of the first joining, she was able to truly enjoy the experience. I was still very much in my prime, being but thirty-six. Even though the act of lovemaking was as much a novelty for me as it was for her, I was able to satisfy her more than once.

Much later, as she lay in my arms, sighing with contentment, I stroked her beautiful hair, and softly sang to her. She nestled even closer to me, rubbing her delectable body against mine, and I knew there could not possibly be another pair of lovers in the world as ecstatically happy as we two were. I alternately sang and spoke to her, telling her things she did not yet know about me. I intentionally avoided speaking about sad events, however. I did not want to shatter the peace and loving intimacy of the moment. Neither did I allude to the very recent events at the Opera House. It was as if we now existed in an entirely different world, and were, indeed, different people ourselves. I told her about my travels in Russia, as I went about from town to town, following the gypsy fairs. I spoke about my mentor in Italy, avoiding all mention of Luciana, and of the tragedy that had taken her young life. I made her laugh at times, while at others, her mouth opened in amazement, and, in an awed whisper, she asked me just how I had managed to perform a certain magical act.

The hours passed swiftly, as always happens when one feels most deeply, and experiences the most happiness. The sun began to lower itself into the horizon, as I could see from its dimming light outside the window. We gradually grew silent, and simply lay in each other's arms, enjoying the closeness that is the aftermath of lovemaking. I still could not cease to be amazed. That this beautiful, sensitive woman should not only consent to kiss a monster such as myself, but also freely engage in the most exquisite physical intimacy with him, was just too overwhelming for me. As I lay there, with my Christine in my arms, the wonder, the beauty, of what we had just shared expressed itself in tears that began uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks. I sighed, humbled by the love we felt for each other.

I am not sure what awakened me. We had both fallen asleep. Indeed, Christine still slept. I stirred slightly, carefully raising my head so as not disturb my sleeping angel. I was not entirely surprised to see a familiar figure in the bedroom doorway, barely visible in the gathering darkness. Just as suddenly as I had noticed him, he disappeared, and I fell back upon the pillow, groaning inwardly. I decided I was not up to another of his lectures at the moment, so I allowed myself to drift back to sleep...

Christine

The sunlight was bathing the room in glorious gold tones as I awoke, at first wondering where I was. I instinctively turned my head on the pillow, and beheld my sleeping Erik. A smile stole over my face as I watched him sleep. The memories of our lovemaking the day before returned to me, and I felt a sudden rush of love for this man who had suffered so terribly, and who had at last been granted happiness.

He slept soundly, on his back. His arms were flung above his head, the disfigured side of his face turned toward me. How I loved that face, with its strange combination of hideous distortion and other-worldly beauty! I loved both sides of it. I especially yearned to caress those twisted folds of flesh, that scarred cheek, but I did not wish to disturb his deep, peaceful slumber. Long I looked on him thus, as his beautiful, naked chest gently rose and fell with his peaceful breathing. I suddenly remembered, as if from a very great distance, the shocking, violent events that had transpired at the underground lake. I remembered the face of a man who had also professed great love for me. I had actually decided to leave with that man, choosing safety and security over passionate love. In fear, I had allowed myself to be swept along by events. Fortunately, I had finally realized what I needed to do -- return to my longtime tutor, who had become the love of my life. I was all of eighteen years old, and Raoul, twenty-five. Erik was quite a bit older than the two of us. Yet our ages hardly mattered. It was the kind of love each man offered that had made my choice so intolerably difficult. In the end, I chose the path of risk over that of security. I had seen that Erik, in spite of the terrible things I knew he had done, had the nobler, more loving soul.

I was aware that his temper was, at times, uncontrollable. I knew that I should be very much afraid of him. Yet, I had come back to him because he possessed another quality that more than made up for the rage that could overtake him at any given moment. He loved me with every breath that he took, every beat of his strong heart, indeed, every fiber of his being. I would take my chances with him. I was already sure that he would never truly harm me.

Slipping out of bed, I wound one of the bedsheets around me, and hunted around for something to cover myself with. There was a large, elaborately designed trunk in one corner of the room. I had not noticed it before. This was not surprising, since I had been bed-ridden with a fever for several days. I now went up to it, curiously. Throwing back the lid, I discovered various articles of women's clothing. I marveled at this, since, as far as I knew, Nadir did not have a wife. A mistress, perhaps? It was only much later that Erik explained that Nadir entertained female guests from time to time. None ever stayed with him for long. When I asked if he were averse to marriage, Erik sighed, and sadly told me how very much Nadir had loved his wife, who had died years before.

Rummaging around in the trunk, I finally found a garment that was much to my liking, as well as more intimate apparel. They were exquisitely fashioned of the most delicate, yet strong material, woven into colorful designs. I hastily donned the clothes, hoping that Nadir would not decide to appear at the doorway, as he seemed wont to do. I also found some beautifully embroidered Persian slippers in the trunk, which I also put on. Then, straightening and taking a deep breath, I ventured into the living room of the apartment.

He was kneeling on a Persian rug, facing east, and his body was bowed forward in prayer; indeed, so far forward, that his forehead nearly touched the floor. I had no wish to disturb him. Erik had at one point told me that Nadir was a Moslem, but I was not familiar with the rituals and prayers of that religion. I only vaguely knew that it had something to do with a god named Allah.

I tiptoed over to the side, and found a large, intricately embroidered cushion on the floor, by the wall opposite the praying Persian. I sat down on it, waiting for him to finish his prayer. I could hear him muttering something in a foreign tongue. On and on he droned, and I sat there, waiting for him, as I brought back to mind the sweet intoxication of yesterday's afternoon...

At length, Nadir finished his little ritual, and straightened slowly. He became aware of my presence at once. Turning, he smiled briefly at me, then stood up and stretched with a yawn.

"Well, good morning," he said, very pleasantly. "Have you said your prayers yet?"

Blushing, I ducked my head, shaking it. He must have known that I had not. Indeed, he had no idea whether I ever engaged in such activities. He knew as little about me as I did about him. What, then, had he meant by such a question?

"Ah, I should not ask you such a thing," he continued, as if aware of my thoughts. "Instead, I shall ask you this: did he force you to do anything you did not want to do of your own free will?"

I lifted my head, and looked straight at him. "No, he did not," I answered firmly.

He considered my answer for a moment, regarding me pensively. "Very well, then," he finally said. "This means you gave yourself to him because you really wanted to."

"Is that so very hard to believe?" I asked, a hint of bitterness in my voice.

"No, mademoiselle, it is not," he said softly, aware that his statement had hurt me. "But I have known Erik for a very long time now. He is ruthless when it comes to getting his own way."

"Erik would never do anything to me without my consent," I retorted sharply.

"Forgive me, mademoiselle. I did not mean to imply..."

"Just what did you mean to imply, then, my dear daroga?" The voice of my beloved Erik, commanding as ever, came from the entrance to the room. My heart leaped. There he stood, lazily leaning against the wall, already dressed in black trousers and flowing, immaculately white shirt, which lay open at the neck. There was no mistaking the power coiled in him, even without his mask.

"Why, my dear Erik!" exclaimed the Persian, whirling round to face him. "And a very good morning to you, as well!"

"Come now, Nadir! Why were you interrogating my betrothed? What is it you are leading up to now?"

The Persian smiled slowly, shrugging his shoulders. "Your reputation precedes you, my dear Phantom. Ah, yes, I knew something was lacking." So saying, he turned, and went over to a small trunk almost hidden by two huge cushions in another corner of the room. He threw open the lid, and produced a porcelain object, which he extended toward Erik.

"Your mask, sir," he said, with a little bow.

Erik chuckled in surprise. "You went back to get this, daroga?"

"But of course, Monsieur!"

"Thank you," said Erik, pleased. Some of the tension seemed to evaporate then. He sighed, and put on the mask. "Well, Nadir, I must acknowledge that I am in your debt yet again. I don't know how I can ever repay you for everything..."

"Come, Erik! You need not thank me," the Persian interrupted abruptly. "There is one thing you can do for me, however."

"Pray tell, what may that be?" Erik inquired, in a joking manner.

"Why, that you do your duty by this young lady here as soon as possible."

Erik started to laugh, a genuine, rip-roaring belly laugh. I looked at him, happily amazed, for I had never heard him laugh like this, the way other people laughed. It meant that he was truly happy. I smiled joyfully at them both.

"My dear daroga," said Erik, still shaking with laughter. "Have I not indicated already that I have every intention of doing so? Would you by any chance know any priests that could perform the ceremony at a moment's notice?"

He then looked over at me. "Christine, my sweet love," he murmured, walking over to me. "Did you sleep well, my angel?" Giving me his hand, he pulled me up and into his loving embrace.

"Wait a moment!" Nadir exclaimed, in a mock solemn tone. "We need to attend to our very hungry stomachs first!"

The three of us laughed heartily at this. Erik tucked me firmly under his arm, and we went into the dining area.

"Now, then," said Nadir, ceremoniously. "You shall both taste an authentic, Persian breakfast!" As he said this, he went into the kitchen to begin preparations. I offered to assist him, but he merrily waved me away, saying that my presence was obviously required elsewhere.

Erik and I laughed, our happiness overflowing. We sat as close as possible to each other, on floor cushions. I laid my head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly, as he put his arm around me. He kissed the top of my head, and I felt his fingers moving down to caress my cheek.

"We must find a priest as soon as you are able to get about, my love," he whispered tenderly into my hair. I trembled deliciously, and, turning in his arms, looked into his mesmerizing, golden eyes.

"Must we wait much longer, Erik?" I asked, ever so softly. "Perhaps we could find someone this very day."

Leaning forward, he gave me a brief kiss, then smiled at me, as he rested his forehead on mine. "My sweet angel, I'm not sure that you are strong enough as yet."

I firmly assured him that I was.

"Well, then," he said, smiling broadly. "Would you like to go seek one out as soon as we are done consuming Nadir's delicious repast?"

My smile was answer enough for him. Then, I suddenly frowned. "Erik...you may be recognized by someone. The police..."

"That will not be a problem at all!" Nadir's voice came booming from the kitchen. "We shall dress him up as a Persian!"

"Nadir!" exclaimed Erik, laughing. "You're like an old, gossipy woman, always eavesdropping!"

"It's all in the nature of a daroga's work, my esteemed friend!" Nadir answered, laughing as well. "I hope you are preparing your European palates for a mouthwatering feast, worthy of the shah himself!"

Erik and I looked at each other again, smiling into each other's eyes. I suddenly leaned back into him, and he rocked me gently, as he firmly locked his arms around me.