A/N: the reference to Erik's life in Persia is taken from Susan Kay's novel Phantom.

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Chapter 31 Country

Michel ran down the steep hill with short, fitful steps as he waved the flower above his head.

"Here," he said, handing it to Jade. The slender stem slipped between his tan fingers as he delicately laid the flower on her palm. His hands fell to his waist and opened with a teasing air of supplication while his black eyes eagerly pierced hers.

Holding the golden blossom to her nose, Jade twirled it lightly as she looked over its head at the lanky, young man. "Thank you, Michel." Her green eyes lightened as she held back a grin.

They walked side by side to the small bridge that straddled a stream. Leaning over the rail, Michel pulled a handful of pebbles from his pocket, and lobbed one into the water. As an afterthought, he offered Jade the pile of stones balanced on his calloused palm. She took several, and with a long, easy movement, tossed one in the same direction as his. The flat stone skipped across the taut, shining surface. Whistling appreciatively, Michel turned to her, and smiled broadly.

"Who taught you how to throw?" he asked, peering out from the long hair that draped his face. In his eagerness to walk with her, he'd forgotten to tie back his hair and the disarray gave him a wild look. He also looked a little giddy.

Shrugging, she tossed another stone. "A friend that I used to work with taught me."

"Where?" He narrowed his eyes and aimed. His long arm whipped the stone at a severe angle, and it cut the water several times.

Jade leaned on the bridge's rail, and watched the swallows below. They were flying barely an inch above the water as they hunted their late day meal. The brightly colored birds darted at high speed while their tiny bodies hugged the bank.

She smiled at their fierce maneuvers. Daredevils.

Glancing at Michel, she wondered how much Pierre had told his family about her. Nonchalantly, she answered his query. "I use to help out at a neighbor's when I was a girl. One of the boys there would sometimes take me to the lake and we'd throw stones."

Jutting his long chin forward, he tossed a stone at a nearby tree. It hit its mark, and the sharp tap startled a resting bird that shot up from the branches.

"He taught you well. Did he have a name?" His voice had a laughing quality, and Jade smiled back.

"Of course. His name was Jean-Luc."

Ahead of them, the roof of Pierre's family home jutted above the trees. The sun was still high enough for at least another hour of walking but Michel was leading her back. On a typical day, he'd probably be working with Pierre in his orchards, but thanks to Pierre's recovery, today was a family holiday.

He followed the line of her gaze. "Grandmother wanted me to keep you out for a bit, until she and mother could get the supper done. Father brought in some game this afternoon, and she's making something special for dinner tonight."

He moved a little ahead of her, and she watched his broad, lean shoulders sway as he followed the sharp curve of the road. They walked through a copse of leafless trees with gray trunks doused in purple shadows. The sudden coolness touched the back of her neck and she shivered with pleasure.

Wood smoke fanning out from the house met them. Jade inhaled deeply, and held the fresh air in her lungs for a moment. Pierre was right; there was no comparison between the air here and the tainted version of Paris. Her nose and eyes hadn't felt this clear for weeks.

Opening the kitchen door, the delicious smell of roasting game wafted to their noses. Wood resins mixed with cooking fat cast a thin film of oily smoke through the room that enfolded the women and girls gathered at the wooden table. The overhead beams were nearly black from years of cooking.

Turning her head, Jade took in the warm peace of that large room. She would have liked to have sat with the women and listened to their conversation. Instead, she walked over to Claire to inquire about Pierre.

Claire was pulling freshly baked bread out of the oven, and laying golden loaves on a rack. Smiling warmly at her guest, she wiped her hands on her apron, and gestured in the direction of Pierre's room. "The last time I checked, he was awake. I'm sure he would enjoy visiting with you. We'll come for you when supper is ready."

Lightly knocking on Pierre's door, Jade waited for a moment and then slowly opened it.

He was seated upright in the bed with pillows tucked behind him, and gazing out the window. Turning slowly from the window, he smiled when he saw her.

She strolled to his bed, and pulled up a chair next to him. Immediately, he took her hand.

"So, you came," he said.

Covering his free hand with hers, she looked closely at him. His face was healthy again, with that familiar deep tan, and his eyes full of discerning kindness. She smiled, and moved a little closer to him.

"I understand that you saved my life."

Briefly shaking her head, she replied, "I don't think so. You probably would have recovered on your own."

"That's not what my mother says!" he retorted. "According to her, you are now my guardian angel." His eyes shone with pride, as he squeezed her hand.

She stared at him for a moment, and then looked down. I'm no angel Pierre, she thought ruefully as she remembered Meley's limp body in the stable. If you only knew what I really am.

They chatted about the opera house and opening night festivities. Jade tried to describe the beauty of Verdi's music and how it had touched her. She longed to tell him about Erik and the green gown he'd made for her. Instead, she gave him a full account of the party at the great Parisian house where she'd met Verdi and his wife, and discovered the wonders of Rimbaud and Degas.

In the meantime, Pierre had been busy. He'd been searching for new stock for his orchard and possible land for Lucien and his family. He'd found the stock, but not the land.

"How is Lucien's vineyard?" she asked quietly.

He frowned and his eyes darkened. "The blight is spreading. Half of his vineyard is now affected." Pierre looked out the window, and bleakly stared at the landscape as if he were watching the devastation creep towards the house.

Jade had wanted to wait a day or so before telling him her news, but her immediate reaction to his gloom was to offer him hope.

"Pierre, I have spoken with someone who knows a great deal about such matters. He's given me a possible solution to the problem."

Pierre's eyes brightened, and he sat up a little straighter. "Please, tell me about it."

Just as she finished giving him the details of Erik's advice, Michel and an older man entered the room.

"Lucien!" cried Pierre as his face lit up. "Come and meet my friend, Mlle. Jade Bouta."

Pierre's brother stepped to the bed and extended his hand to Jade, who gave him hers. He brought her hand to his lips, and then formally bowed.

"I am honored to meet you, Mlle. Bouta."

"Thank you," replied Jade. She could see the family resemblance although he was considerably shorter than Pierre. A wiry man, his forearms were bands of muscle.

As the two men hoisted Pierre up, and hauled him to the dining room, he looked over his shoulder, and gave Jade a wry smile.

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A feast was laid out on the table with fresh game, meat pies and quiche au lard as well as the bread Claire had baked. Preserves, pastries, and savory vegetables crowded next to the main dishes as bottles of wine from the family's vineyard were passed around.

Pierre was pampered and fussed over by his family, and he took it in with his good-natured grace. Jade watched as they loaded his plate with food, made sure his wine glass was filled, and laughed at his jokes. They are so good to each other, she thought with delight.

Lucien and his wife Therese were at one side of the table with their four sons and daughters across from them— Michel, Gaston and the two girls Claire and Louise. Marie, who was Pierre's unmarried sister, sat next to Jade.

After the meal they moved to the drawing room, and sat by the fire. Therese sat next to Jade on the sofa. Her auburn hair was swept back with curls draped along her neck in a casual, country style.

"Mlle. Bouta, will you be staying with us for awhile?" Therese asked, as she smiled at the younger woman. Therese had been smiling at her throughout the evening, and had done her best to include Jade in all the conversations at the dinner table.

"Please, call me Jade," she replied. Then glancing at Pierre who was watching them, she said, " I had planned to spend several days."

Turning to Pierre, Therese noticed his distance from the fire, and she immediately rose, and covered his legs with a knitted blanket. In the next moment, Marie entered the room with a tray of hot drinks.

After everyone was served, Therese asked Marie in her clipped voice, "Marie, are you still planning on going to the village tomorrow for your fitting?"

With a sunny smile Marie replied, "Yes. Have you changed your mind, and decided to come with me?"

Nodding, Therese turned to Jade, and fixed her intense eyes upon her. "Marie is having a new gown made for the Christmas season. Would you like to join us tomorrow? We'll be leaving in the afternoon. Afterwards, we can sit in the village, and you can tell us about the Parisian fashions that are popular at the opera house."

"Oh yes, please join us Jade!" Marie chimed in.

Jade looked at Pierre and then to Michel, hoping one of them would rescue her. Pierre gave her a gentle smile and Michel simply shrugged his shoulder as if to say, "I can't help you with this one."

Reluctantly nodding 'yes', she added, "I know very little about fashion, but I'll be happy to accompany the two of you."

As the men discussed Pierre's recent search for land, he looked past his brother and stared at Jade for a moment. She replied with a brief shake of her head that indicated 'no'. It wasn't the right time for her to talk with Lucien about the blight.

Watching their silent exchange, Therese caught Jade's eye and asked, "Jade, have you ever spent time in wine country before?"

So, Pierre didn't tell them about my past, Jade thought with relief.

"Yes," she replied noncommittally. "The wine that you served tonight from your vineyard is very good."

Overhearing her comment, Lucien lifted his chin with pride, and smiled slightly at Jade. His serious looking face was a strong contrast to Pierre's easygoing demeanor.

The men continued to talk about the local wine growers and what they were doing to save the vines. It was a litany that Jade had heard before. If it weren't for Erik's advice, she would have found the discussion depressing. Pierre would occasionally glance at her and she could tell that he was anxious that she relay her news.

A half hour later Pierre began to slump in his chair as he struggled to stay awake. Claire ordered him to his room and the two men helped him down the corridor. Then she turned to Jade whose eyes were also drooping.

The soft, large bed had been turned down, and the fire lit. Jade stripped to her chemise, and put on the thick robe that had been laid out for her. She cracked the window to let in fresh air. Having a window was a delightful change from her stuffy room in the opera house. Pierre's mother had given her a luxuriously large bedroom on the first floor that was down the hall from Pierre.

Sitting in the leather, overstuffed chair by the fire, she stared into the flames. It had been a short but very enjoyable day. Michel had shown her the neighboring countryside, and they'd spent hours walking. She felt deliciously tired after traipsing up and down the road with him. He wasn't a talker like Jean, but they seemed to have a natural affinity, and she had felt very comfortable with him.

He's like Pierre, she mused. It's easy to see his goodness.

She looked around at the fire-lit room and out the window. This was a wonderful place! It possessed the best aspects of her parents' home. The homesickness she'd felt since coming to Paris had finally disappeared. She could see Gillian roaming the fields in her red cape and harvesting brightly colored insects. The child would be enchanted by the tiny swallows that hunted by the stream.

Crawling into bed, she immediately fell asleep.

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Jade's eyes opened. It was cold in the room.

Turning her head to the window, she noticed that it was wide open. Odd, she thought sleepily. Looking towards the fireplace, she saw the tall man sitting in the chair.

It was a dream. But still, it was very cold.

"Erik," she whispered and he rose and glided to her side.

"What are you doing here?" she asked dreamily. She knew she was still sleeping but she also felt that he was there. He had never been this real before in her dreams.

Erik reached over and lifted her into his arms. She looked down and saw that her cloak was around her shoulders. Shutting her eyes, she tried to ignore that she had left her bed. She was so tired and needed to sleep.

Once they were outside, he carried her to the horse that was tied nearby.

By then, Jade was beginning to realize that this wasn't a dream and that she was being spirited away. Held in his arms, she felt sluggish and drained, as if she were moving through a wall of fabric. Her head lolled onto his chest and she could smell his slightly musky odor mixed with the odors of bath soap, and candle smoke. He was moving smoothly over the even ground and she felt strangely protected as he carried her.

When he swung her up onto the saddle she fully awoke. His hand was next to hers as he gripped the leather and prepared to hoist himself up.

The stars' cold light barely illuminated his face. The unfeeling, white mask confused her for a moment as she tried to look into his eyes. Up to that point, her vocal cords had been absent. When she felt the saddle shift as he leaned onto the horse, her voice returned.

"What are you doing?" she asked hoarsely.

The saddle slid to her left as it took his weight and he was behind her. Immediately the black horse moved forward, and they trotted out of the yard.

Erik's arms were wrapped around her while he held the reins. Her back bumped against the front of his body as the horse loped down the road, and she could feel his tight, well-muscled chest. It was colder than last night. Soon she began to shiver, partly from the chill but also from the excitement.

Where are we going? Surely he wasn't taking her back to the opera house in her chemise and robe. Or had he finally gone completely mad?

A few minutes later, they left the road, and followed a narrow path to a hayfield. Great, round bales surrounded them. They went a little further into the field and then Erik pulled the horse up and slid off. He led the animal to one of the huge silhouettes, and lifted her out of the saddle.

Carrying her to a spot that was heaped with dry hay, he gently set her down, and sat beside her.

By now, Jade was shivering hard enough that her teeth were chattering. Pulling her close to him, he covered her with his cloak.

They sat together under the cloak, and she soon felt warmer. As she followed the rise and fall of Erik's chest she relaxed, and stopped waiting for him to speak. They weren't riding towards Paris, and he was behaving like a gentleman, so there was no need to talk.

Around them were the many sounds of the night: the light breeze playing in the field, the rustling of rodents and the occasional flapping of a bird overhead. The land was busy with nighttime hunting, and beyond that was the deep stillness of the country.

An overwhelming need for sleep returned, and she slumped forward. Then Erik's arm slipped around her and lightly held her next to him. As she began to drift off, she entwined her fingers around the buttons of his waistcoat and rested on his chest. Like a sleepy child, she wanted to get closer to that wonderful source of warmth.

Giving up her struggle to stay awake, she finally fell asleep.

When she awoke, she was in his arms again and back on the horse. He was holding her gently on the saddle and leaning her against his chest as they rode back to the house.

After he lifted her into her bedroom, she walked straight to the bed and crawled in. There was the sound of his light footsteps coming to the side of the bed, and then the give of the mattress as he sat beside her. She reached out to him, and touched his waistcoat. Her fingers slowly skimmed along the smooth fabric until her heavy hand fell to the bed.

His breath was on her ear, and he whispered to her. "Jade, when you are finished here, come back to my opera house."

Sighing, she snuggled deeper under the covers and fell asleep.

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The black stallion moved fast along the road to Paris. Erik watched the darkness ahead and allowed the horse to set the pace.

He could still feel her warmth against his body, and her curled up form on his chest and stomach. The smell of her hair was in his nostrils. He had slipped her hood off as they rode back to the house so that it would brush against his chin.

At first he had planned to take her from her room, and bring her to the hay field where he could talk to her. Once there, he would convince her that there was far more for her in his opera house than she could ever experience here. If reasoning was not enough, he would recite poetry, or sing to her to lure her back.

However, once he held her in his arms, sensation had taken over. Words had disappeared and there was only touch to guide him.

Erik's lips curved into a satisfied smile. She had slept in his arms. Her cool independence and strength had melted away and instead, she had become an incredibly warm and soft woman resting upon him.

A long, hard breath escaped him. Waiting for their inevitable intimacy was becoming difficult.

Earlier that day, after considering what to do, he knew that it came down to two choices. He must either trust that she would come back of her own free will, or he must destroy his rival.

He found the latter choice distasteful. The insanity that had ruled him over a year ago when he had set fire to the opera house was finally gone, and his time as a hired assassin for the Shah was best forgotten. He no longer had the stomach for cold-blooded murder.

Tonight, she had trusted him completely.

Closing his eyes, he relived the peace that had filled him last night as he stood by the window and watched her tend to the sick man. He was now certain that if he needed her, she would come.

I have her affection and her trust. Soon I will have her love.

A light wind hit his face, and pulled at his cloak. Erik looked up at the stars and the magnificent reach of the night's soft light. It was a night for lovers and new life.

Caressing the horse's neck, he nudged his sides with his heels and the stallion responded with more speed.

The next time we meet, I will bring her to my home. He sat back in the saddle and imagined the look in her eyes as he ushered her into his candle lit sanctuary.