Chapter 25

Time stood still. The commander faced Raoul, sneer on his face, gun smoking in his outstretched hand. Then, as if in slow motion, Raoul watched the sneer disintegrate into a look of stunned surprise and then horror as the commander looked down at his chest. What began as a small stain of blood had bloomed across the front of his uniform. He looked back to Raoul, the question on his face evident as his knees began to buckle. As he hit the ground, he looked once more to his chest, reaching his hand to Raoul in disbelief as the gun fell from it. Finally he pitched face forward, into the dirt. The night knew death as Erik's eyes met Raoul's across the fallen man's body, an unexpected bond forging between them. Suddenly, Antoinette threw her arms around Raoul as Christine pushed past them, running to Erik. As she reached him, she grabbed his neck, her body hitting him so hard, had he not seen her coming, they would have gone sprawling to the ground.

"Erik, oh thank God, Erik, I thought he would kill you." She rained kisses on him as he lifted her off her feet, crushing her to him.

"Oh, Christine." He held her tight as he tried to kiss her tears away. Finally setting her feet on the ground, he stood with her held to his chest, her arms still wrapped around his neck, as she cried and he promised never to leave her again.

Phillipe had paused by Raoul, looking on the scene in front of them when Jacques came up from behind. As he gazed around the site, he saw Dupree, half lying, against the corner of the church.

"Vicomte, look." Raoul looked to Jacques as he pointed in Dupree's direction.

"Go, see to him."

Jacques and Phillipe hurried to Dupree.

"Are you shot, man?" one of them asked, as they searched the officer for wounds. They saw a great deal of blood on Dupree's face.

"I am— the ball grazed my head I think. I'm not sure." Still stunned, Dupree put his hand to his head as if just noticing the warm blood trickling down his face and neck. "I think— I'll be fine. Can someone help me up?"

"I think you should remain where you are for the moment, at least until you regain your head and someone can take a closer look at your wound."

"No, you can't, I can't— the commander. No, you must get me up. Two gendarmes followed us. I don't know how much time we have before they reach us, nor do I know what they will do once they arrive. I know they saw the commander's insanity but beyond that—."

Raoul had reached them, his arm still around Antoinette as she clung to him. Jacques and Phillipe looked to him, questioning.

"Get him on his feet and into the church. If it wasn't for him— " Raoul leaned toward him, releasing Antoinette in the process. Placing his hand on Dupree's shoulder he waited for the officer to look to him. "I have no idea what would have happened tonight had you not— Thank you." He looked back to Jacques and Phillipe. "Hurry, move him now. I'll take care of things our here. Antoinette, you go with them— "

"No!" Her vehemence was surprising to him. "No, Raoul. I won't go with them. I'll stay with you."

He reached his hand up to caress her cheek. "No, I want you safe. Out here, you would be a target should trouble start. Go with them, I shall be inside shortly." Her ordeal over, she shook at his touch. Motioning to Claude who still stood with the priest, he walked her to her father as Claude met them halfway. She clung to Raoul's sleeve as her father tugged her toward safety. Placing his hand over hers, he removed it, smiling at her. "It is all right, I'm not leaving. I'll be in as soon as I see to this. See if you can tend the officer's wound for me, please." She took a deep breath then sighed, worry still evident on her face.

"You promise? You'll not leave, you'll be all right?"

"Yes, ma chérie, I will. No go." He nodded at Claude, then turned toward Erik and Christine.

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They had gathered again in the church, the priest entering last after having gone to the commander's body saying a prayer for the tortured soul that had been released. They now discussed what they would do when the gendarme arrived.

"Erik, you and Christine need to leave. I'll tell them I shot the commander in self-defense, after he had already attacked Dupree. The others will vouch for me. And what are they going to do? I am a Vicomte , after all." A smirk touched his mouth, "Finally, something my title is good for." Antoinette sat close to Raoul, her hand tight in his as he spoke to Erik. He patted her hand with his other and turned to smile at her, then turned to Christine. "Christine, I owe you an— apology. I have behaved abominably and it was unwarranted. You had made your choice, I chose not to accept it. I see now, it was the only one you could make. So please, the two of you must go."

"No, Raoul." Erik spoke for the first time since they had reentered the church. He had taken a seat on the front pew, his arm wrapped around Christine in a show of ownership and protection. "I will not run. I am done with that. I will not have Christine live like that. I will face the gendarme when they arrive. It is because of me that all of this came about."

"Excuse me, monsieur, but I think the Vicomte has a point." Dupree had sat after being cleaned and bandaged. Holding his head in his hands, he spoke quietly. "Though I don't think you need to leave the city, you might wish to retire to the inn. I think that I can persuade the officers to accept the Vicomte's explanation easily enough. That may be more difficult if you remain." At his last statement, he raised his head to look at them all, a slight smile on his face.

Father Ignacio approached Erik, putting his hand on Erik's shoulder. "Tonight, I blessed a union between two people who love each other more than any I've seen before. This is your wedding night. We will take care of the explanations. Go, you have a wife now. This should be a time of happiness for you both." He smiled on them both, before lifting his hands and clasping them in front of him. He waited until they both rose. Erik released Christine from his grasp, looking to Raoul. The men's eyes locked on each other. Erik took a step toward Raoul, who stiffened in anticipation. Erik stood over him, his stature intimidating still. Unmoving, he looked on Raoul, searching his face. Suddenly, he extended his hand to the boy. A look of shock crossed Raoul's countenance but Erik knew it was years of ingrained manners that caused the boy's hand to meet his. Never taking his eyes from Raoul, Erik clasped his hand and shook it. "Thank you. For my life." With that, he released Raoul's hand and, with his arm around his wife, made his way out of the church.

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The officers walked into the church half an hour later.

"Are you saying the commander is the one who shot you?" one of the officers asked Dupree.

"Oui, he did. If it wasn't for the Vicomte, I would be dead now." Dupree glared at the two officers, challenging them to dispute the word of a Vicomte. Both officers seemed to squirm under his look, then turned to Raoul.

"Is this true, Monsieur Vicomte? His recounting of the events is correct?"

Raoul paused a fraction of a second before responding. "I could never allow any man to be gunned down in cold blood, officers."

The officers exchanged another glance, then moved toward Dupree, grabbing his arms. "Come on then. We'll need to take the commander's body back to Paris. Vicomte, you will return with us? A report will be required at headquarters." Dupree swayed as they helped him to his feet.

"Perhaps you both should go along as soon as possible. I think this man should not ride for a day or two. I shall bring him with me—," he looked to Antoinette, "when my business is finished here."

"As you wish then, Monsieur Vicomte." They helped Dupree back down to his seat and with a slight bow to Raoul, left the church.

Raoul sat with Antoinette in the pew, as the others assisted Dupree into the priest's study, closing the door behind them. He lifted his arm and smiled at her as she ducked underneath, snuggling into his shoulder.

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As Christine paused in the doorway, she placed her hand on Erik's chest. "May I have— a moment?" she asked with a catch in her voice.

"Of course." Erik bowed to her but as he waited he paced the hallway like a caged panther. Now that their time had come, his fear raised its ugly head once again, causing him to think the worst— that she didn't want him after all. He struggled with the feelings; the rational side of him knowing this was not the case, the emotional side warning that it could possibly be true. After what seemed an eternity, he heard her soft call. Knowing this to be the moment of truth, his hand trembled as he opened the door. What he saw rooted him to the floor. Christine stood by the bed, her dress askew, her face flushed. He stared at the picture in front of him as she smiled shyly.

"Erik, come in and close the door. You can't stand there all night."

Her words broke him from his reverie. He forced his feet to move forward.

"Christine, you—."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to look perfect for you, but I couldn't get my dress off and I'd left my valise in my room, so my nightgown was there as well. I wanted this to be perfect and look what I've done. I need help with this and, oh— I hope you're not upset."

A smile came to him as he gazed at her. "No, my love. You are a beauty no matter what you wear." He reached her, enveloping her in his embrace. "I love you, Christine."

She placed her hands on his face and pulled him to her. "I love you, Erik."

He turned her so her back was to him and undid the buttons on her bodice. As he unfastened each one, he left a kiss in its place. With the back opened completely, he pushed the sleeves down her arms and the dress slipped from her in a whisper of silk at her feet. Turning her round to face him, he took in her form. Even through her chemise, her silhouette was easy to ascertain and it was perfect. Round breasts that stood against the material of her gown, a small waist, she was everything he'd thought her to be and more. She touched his cheek and, raising her lips to him, questioned him with a kiss. He answered her by running his tongue across her lips, urging her to open to him. She sighed into him as her mouth allowed entrance. He tasted her gently at first, her tongue meeting his. They held their kiss, learning each other's secrets until Erik felt as if he was on fire. His hands fumbled with the ribbon on her chemise. When it came untied, he pushed it down her until it lay with her dress. With a groan, he lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed. She was warm in his arms and her mouth had left her mark on him as he released their kiss. Her smoky eyes watched him as he removed his shirt. Once it was off, he lay on the bed beside her, pulling her to him. As she wrapped her arm around his back, she froze and her eyes grew wide. Slowly, she traced the scars that crossed his back, her eyes full of pain. Erik could feel her touch on them, realizing she must have very little real knowledge of man's immense cruelty.

"It's nothing, Christine. Old scars from a different life. That's all past and done."

"Oh, Erik, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. There was nothing you could have done." He watched as she smiled at him.

"Not then, no. Now, I can help you forget them. I can give you a new life."

Caressing her face, he kissed her again, pouring his soul into her, everything he was. She accepted with the same passion, meeting him breath for breath. He rolled her to her back, kissing her cheek. His lips traveled down her neck with small overlapping kisses, not wanting to miss a bit of her. Raising his hand to her breast, he touched it lightly and felt a shiver run through her. He leaned to her, suckling her nipple as it grew hard in answer to his mouth. He was amazed at the response of her body to his ministrations. Running his hand down her stomach, he watched the goose bumps rise showing a trail where his hand had touched.

Lying on her back, Christine gripped the sheet, white knuckled, in an attempt to keep herself grounded, but Erik's every touch made her feel as if she would fly away. Never had she felt such sensations. Everywhere he traced, he left a searing burn upon her skin. When she felt she would die, she released the sheets and rolled to face him, wrapping her arms around him. Pulling him to her, she felt his hand run down her back. She could feel his grip upon her buttocks as he pulled her hips to his, pressing her against him. Her body flushed warm and she could feel his presence as he moved against her. She felt the wetness rush between her legs, a thrill move up her spine. Unable to endure it any longer, she pushed him from her and tugged at his breeches. He grasped her hands, looking at her tenderly, then guided them to the fastenings, showing her what to do. Finally, when his breeches were off, she asked him to stand. "I want to see every bit of you, to know every part of you." She could see the power in the muscles that crossed his chest, rising and falling with his every gasp. Her eyes traveled with her hands as she touched him, memorizing every part of him. His skin was smooth and hot. She stood, walking behind him, and kissed his scars as if they were holy. Looping around him, she touched him lightly here and there and felt his flesh move beneath her fingers. Coming full circle she sat on the bed again, still gazing at him, still touching him. As her hand reached his waist, she looked down to see his arousal, large and intimidating.

"Are you afraid of me, Christine?"

"No, Erik. Never."

Erik rose from the bed and stood before her. He watched as Christine moved to the edge of the bed and reached out for him. Placing her hands on him, she explored him, caressed him, kissed him, loving every part of him. She circled him and his breath caught as she kissed his scars. Then she came back to sit again, still brushing her hands over him. She followed the line of hairs that ran from his stomach to his maleness, kissing each place she touched. When she kissed his hardness, his body vibrated and his knees weakened. "Christine, you don't—"

"This is my time, Erik. I want to learn every bit of you." She shushed him and began again. He wrapped his fingers in her hair as she explored him with her mouth. Sensations he thought never to feel set his heart racing. The more she did to him, the more control he gave up. Finally, his body could take no more. Grasping her shoulders, he pushed her flat on the bed. He knelt, running his hands from her collarbones to her breasts, his thumbs brushing her nipples. They stood erect at his touch and he bent forward to kiss them. Moving onto the bed, his body above her, he tensed as he waited for a sign. She gave it by parting her legs in invitation, where he settled with a sigh. Stiff and hot, he pushed at her, testing, and found her wet with her desire. Pushing away, he smiled at her and moved down her body, his tongue following her throat, then between her breasts and ending in a circle around her belly button, causing her to mew in response. Finally, he reached her curls, the same color as her hair. Soft and thick, they tickled at his nose and he nuzzled against her. She put her hands out and grasped his hair, lifting his face to her gaze.

"Erik, please. This isn't—"

"Christine, I would know my wife, as she knows me." With that, he buried his face in her most private part, surprised at the many different textures. He ran his tongue over the different surfaces until he found her entrance. He thrust his tongue in her and felt her arch, pushing herself against his mouth. He tasted every inch of her and when she finally panted with need, he moved back to kiss her lips again, letting her taste him, letting her taste herself. Returning his fingers to the place he'd just left, he inserted one, then two, massaging her. He didn't want to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her, but he knew it would and he told her so. "This is a first for me, Christine. Though I've read and seen, I cannot tell you how much this will hurt. But I will be as gentle as I can be." She nodded against him in assent. He moved to her once again, and guided himself toward her. She was moist and ready and he slipped easily inside. Then came the resistance of her virginity and she gasped. He stopped all movement, allowing her to get used to the feel of him. She buried her face against his chest, her hands on his back.

"Now, Erik, please, now." He pushed once more and felt the tear, felt the warmth, as she dug her nails into him, biting his chest but never making a sound. He waited, putting a hand to her cheek and brushing her hair from her face. But try as he might, he could not wait long. His body took possession of him and he moved in her, trying to be as gentle as possible, but knowing he had hurt her after all. Slowly his body set a rhythm. Gradually, she responded and her hips rose and met his every move. His body moved faster in question and she responded in kind. Finally, his body took complete control. He thrust into her, faster, deeper. Her hips bucked up with every thrust, answering his demands. He buried himself in her over, and over, until he felt dispossessed, a stranger in his own body. He heard a groan start, deep within her. Her body convulsed as her spasms squeezed him. He thrust deeper, feeling them tighten with his every move. She called out his name and he closed his eyes following her, his body exploding with release, emptying into her, claiming her, owning her.