Chapter 51 Love

Dashing across the exercise pen, Jade chased the Arabian stallion. When she reached him, she tapped his rump with her stick. With a burst of speed he flew past her bucking wildly, and then whirling around, he held his head at a jaunty angle as he dared her to continue their game.

Maybe this will wear you out a little, she thought wryly as she leaned on the rail and caught her breath.

Lately, the chocolate colored stallion had been driving Rascon to distraction with his tricks. Yesterday the stable manager had cornered her, and roughly declared that if she didn't exercise that horse, he would.

Looking up at the great curve of the opera house's dome, she wondered if she could persuade Erik to take the horse out for an occasional ride. In a few months she'd be too pregnant for these games.

Velvety lips brushed her shoulder and pulled her back to the pen. She smiled at the warm puff of breath on her neck. Gently, she reached back, and touched the stallion's silky head. Attaching a line to his halter, she led him to the stable.

Back in his stall, she fed him sugar cubes and looked into his bright eyes. He was cozying up to her and begging for attention. As she touched him, she remembered the night before when Erik and she had lain together after their coupling and talked.

"How is your charge faring, my dear?" he'd asked as his long fingers glided along her side.

Her 'charge' the stallion, had become like a child to her. Between work in the opera house and taking care of their home, she only had time to ride one horse, and it was inevitably the fiery Arabian.

The day after her wedding, Jade had been sitting on the couch and reading when a silver papered box had appeared in her lap. Seeing Erik's mysterious smile, she'd unwrapped the gift and found papers stating that she was the new owner of the stallion. Hopping up, she'd thrown her arms around his neck, and he'd swung her around until tears flew from her eyes.

Leaving the stable, Jade made her way through the back passages to a distant storage room where she washed and changed clothes. After finishing her toilet, she activated the mechanism that opened a panel to the hidden passage beyond. With lantern in hand, she was soon at the spot where Erik had said he would meet her.

The cool passage vibrated slightly from sounds on the other side of the wall. At one point, she thought she could make out distinct voices. Staring at the stone ceiling, she tried to estimate how many months it might have taken to build these corridors. There was a faint sound, and she turned to see Erik approaching.

Encircling her small wrist with his fingers, he clasped her hand, and led her to a network of joining corridors. With the lantern held high, he swung around and faced her. The flood of shadows fell from his face, and she stared into glittering eyes.

"From here there are several important routes," he said in an instructive manner. "The one to the left will take you to the stage and the auditorium. The central corridor leads to the grand foyer and to the outside. The right one travels to the staff quarters."

The faint sounds that Jade had heard while waiting for him had become a stream of voices pouring from the darkness. Turning her head in different directions, she tried to separate one echo from the next. They were in a vortex of sound.

"There were traps set in these passages which would ensnare anyone who entered here," he continued casually. Then he looked at her sternly. "On the night that you first entered these passages from box five, it was fortunate that I found you before you stumbled into one of them. Later, I dismantled the mechanisms. In the next few days, I will reset them. When you come here, you must be careful to use only the passages that I have shown you."

She wanted to ask him about those traps. Who was he trying to keep out? And what would happen to those who were unfortunate enough to get in?

Staring at him, she realized again how dangerous her husband was.

"The voices," Jade said quietly as she turned her head in the direction of the stage. "Is that how you know what occurs in the opera house?"

Erik gazed at her for a long moment. Then taking her hand, he led her through the central passage in the direction of the grand foyer.

They came to a dead end. Arranging the hood of his cloak so that it covered the masked half of his face, he then pointed to a peephole and said, "It is best to use this door at night as an alternate to the iron-gate. But if you must use it during the day, this will show you if someone is in the hall."

Placing her face to the wall, she peered through the hole, and was amazed to see the entire length of a narrow, dimly lit corridor.

"How did you do this?" she asked with surprise.

"Lenses," he replied in an offhanded way.

A moment later, the wall slid open and they were in the hall. Directly in front of them was a door that led to the outside.

At the top of the narrow street that ran next to the opera house a carriage waited. It was a four seated, elegant looking black brougham. Erik helped Jade in and the carriage swayed as he joined her. He struck the ceiling with his gloved fist, and they smoothly moved on.

Leaning back against the seat, Jade marveled at the rich interior. She was seated on a comfortable, leather covered horsehair cushion as the morning light softly penetrated the lace curtains and filled the carriage. Pulling the frilly fabric aside, she gazed at the shops that were set back from the carriage-glutted street. It was Saturday morning, and a clear, sunny day—perfect for a jaunt around the city. Yesterday, when Erik had recommended an outing, she had immediately agreed.

Erik sat regally erect as he coolly looked over her shoulder at the street beyond. He was wearing a black suit and a scarlet satin waistcoat beneath his cape. It was the ninth of April and still chilly enough for light outer wear.

As they moved across the city, Erik pointed out landmarks and explained their history. Ahead of them was the Tour Saint-Jacques, the remnant of a sixteenth century church located on the Rue de Rivoli. At its top were tiny figures milling about as they took in their two sous view of the city.

The carriage crossed the Seine and headed south through the thinning traffic. As they moved across stretches of broken cobblestones, the soft squeaking springs lent a spark of cheer to the air and highlighted Jade's sense of adventure.

"Where are we going, Erik?" she asked. She had only been to this side of the city once before when she'd taken the train to Le Havre to find Gillian.

"It's a surprise, my dear," he replied as he calmly regarded her. He seemed slightly amused by her intense curiosity. In turn, she had an impish urge to pinch his cheek. Instead, she caressed it.

It seemed to her that they were heading in the direction of the Bois de Bologne, the great park that was just west of the city. Manette had said just the other day that they should rent a carriage and go for a ride to view the flowers.

"Are we going to the Bois?" she asked as she craned her neck and tried to see past the horses. Perched on the edge of her seat, she leaned hard against the padded door, and turned her head to catch Erik's eye.

His lip curled with contempt and he replied, "No, we will not be visiting that cesspool." A haunted, angry look briefly crossed his face, and then disappeared as he gazed at her thoughtfully.

Jade stared at him with a slight frown.

Caressing her hand, he brought it to his lips. "I would not taint our first day in the sun by taking you to such a place." He patted her hand, and continued in a fatherly voice. "Perhaps at another time, after we've had more outings."

Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her close.

The carriage arrived at the fortifications at the outer edge of the city. At first, the horses balked in front of the gate, but after some prodding, they passed through and headed southwest. Once outside of the city, the air grew fresher and cleaner, and Jade inhaled deeply. It was an elixir after the heavy, soot-laden Parisian element. Wide, green fields unrolled before them, and she wished that they were riding in a landau where the top could be lowered for an uninhibited view. It had been too long since her last escape from that crowded, congested city.

Jade turned to Erik, and her gaze fell on his mask. Then she felt a pang of guilt. How thoughtless of me to not be happy with what I have! What would he give to be able to walk the dirty streets of Paris free of his hood and mask?

As she looked at him tenderly, he affectionately took her hand, and slid his fingers along hers, delicately stroking them down to her palm. A warm tingling spread up her forearm. Lowering his head, his lips lightly traced her hairline and then softly pressed her mouth.

After their slow, tender kiss, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

Blissfully content, she suddenly remembered her earlier, unanswered question from the hidden passages. Squeezing his hand, she gently asked, "Erik, how do you know what occurs in the opera house?"

He stiffened. After a moment, she rose and sat across from him so that she could better see his face.

After coolly studying her, he finally spoke. "Jade, the voices in the passages is only one of the ways that I know what occurs in the opera house."

Nodding, she replied, "Please go on."

"The peephole in the door that leads to that narrow hall is not unique."

She had suspected as much. Before he'd shown her that device, she'd often wondered how Erik had managed to find her whenever he wished. It made perfect sense that he had ways to see beyond the walls that he so easily penetrated.

Then a thought crossed her mind, which made her squirm in spite of the fact that he'd seen her naked off and on for weeks.

"Erik, is there a peephole to my old room?"

Tilting his head slightly, he waited for a moment, and then said evenly, "My dear Jade, there is no such device there." Her shoulders dropped in relief, and he continued. "It wasn't necessary. I could see into your room through the mirror."

Her shoulders shot up, and she stared at him hard.

Lifting his chin slightly, he stared back with unapologetic eyes as he casually crossed his legs.

Jade's cheeks burned. "When I was bathing, did you…" her voice trailed off and she looked down. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing a lustful look in his eye. It would have felt obscene.

"No. I respected your privacy and waited until you were clothed."

Really? Intent on catching him in a lie, her eyes shot up to his but she saw only an arrogant calm. Turning away, she watched the passing fields as she struggled with the knowledge that he had violated her privacy. After a few minutes her practical side won out. Don't be a goose. What's done is done. You always knew that something like this was possible.

Then another thought came on the heels of the last. If Erik had watched her from the mirror, he must have watched other women as well.

She'd guessed that he wasn't a virgin the first time he'd bedded her since he'd quickly known how to please her. But now she was wondering exactly how her husband had come by that knowledge.

Staring at the floor, she decided that this was where the questioning had to end.

"Jade." His voice was musical as he nearly sang out her name. As tempting as it was to look up at him, she stubbornly avoided his gaze.

His hand touched her chin and gently lifted it up as he forced her to look at him. The color of his eyes had changed to that beautiful, deep green that appeared whenever he was feeling intense emotions. Leaning across the carriage, he lifted her onto his lap, and held her to his chest. A moment later, the carriage hit a bumpy stretch and they rocked together. When it smoothed out, she felt his growing hardness beneath her thigh.

"My dear wife, did you ever wonder how I came to you as an experienced lover on the first night we made love?" he asked with a seductively low voice. His member was growing stiffer by the second and was beginning to bruise her.

"You are the only woman I have been with," he whispered as his hands roamed across her.

Abruptly, she pulled back. "How did you know..." she stammered.

"Mirrors", he said with a deadpan face and a mischievous glint in his eye. Then his mouth locked onto hers.

Minutes later, her lips were swollen and hairpins were scattered across the carriage. Then he struck the ceiling to signal the carriage to stop, as Jade pulled down her bodice and smoothed out its wrinkles.

Hoisting up her skirts, she stepped out of the carriage. When she looked up and saw the vista, she gasped. Ahead were rolling hills covered with grapevines that bore an extraordinary resemblance to the land around her family home.

They picnicked under the canopy of a giant oak tree next to a stream below the road. Erik lay stretched out on the blanket, his usual hawkish alertness gone, replaced by a delightful, boyish ease. Jade ran her hands along his brightly colored waistcoat which gave him the look of a giant, courting robin in spring plumage. They fed each other oranges, and drank champagne as he read her foreign poetry. Then he leaned on his elbow and stroked her face with a blade of grass while he translated the verses.

Songbirds flew around them, some resting in the tree above. Jade listened to their bright voices as she lay against his large, warm body with her arms around his neck.

On the trip back to the city, she leaned against the cushions as they held hands, his beautifully sculpted fingers interlaced with her own. It had been a perfect day. What she now wanted was a perfect night. Yesterday he'd shown her a diagram from a book that illustrated sexual positions. His cocked eyebrow had pleaded for adventure. Tonight she would eagerly oblige.

Her hand rested on her belly. In the last few days, Jade had become certain that she was pregnant. She'd stopped riding the horses, and when the time was right, she would tell Jean and make other arrangements in regards to her apprenticeship. If she were lucky, she wouldn't show for months and could continue to work.

The only thing that remained was to tell Erik.

Tonight, after we finish in bed.

At sundown, the carriage entered the city, and traveled up the boulevards that were soon ablaze with gaslights. The pavements around the theaters and cafes were crowded with men and women. At the edge of the Jardin des Tuileries, their vehicle stopped and waited for its turn to cross the Rue de Rivoli. On the other side of the street was a stylish restaurant with half a dozen ladies and gentlemen standing outside chatting with each other, as if they were trying to decide where to go for supper.

Jade had taken the seat opposite Erik so that she could better see the nightlife. Examining the couples that stood near the restaurant, she suddenly noticed a familiar face. There, on the sidewalk in front of them, was Raoul de Chagny with an animated expression, as he spoke with a gentleman who was smoking a cigar. The gaslights' glare reflected from the sign above him lit up his golden hair. Next to him was a slender woman dressed in a rose colored gown with chestnut curls piled on top of her head. The woman turned to Raoul, and Jade saw the delicate and tender profile of Christine de Chagny.

Startled, Jade turned to Erik who was staring out the window in the direction of that lively party.

Erik's face was frozen. With wide eyes, and lips parted, he stared at Christine with the look of a starved lover, oblivious to everything else. His body coiled and leaned in her direction, as if he were preparing to leap out of the carriage and seize her.

After what seemed an eternity, Jade's gaze fell to his scarlet chest. In the shadows, she could have sworn she saw a rippling of that fine fabric. Fascinated, she stared at it, and imagined that she was seeing his heart working its way from his chest to the surface. When it finally burst out, it would tumble into his hands and continue to throb, as it filled the carriage with its tortured sound.

Closing her eyes, she could see Christine walking towards them with a pale and curious face, drawn to the low bass notes of that organ.

The carriage moved forward, and snapped her out of her vision. Jade quickly turned to the opposite window and stared with blurred eyes at the passing gas-lamps. In the distance, through the trees, she could see the Arc de Triomphe. Fixing her eyes on that great monument, she forced her trembling hands to be still as the carriage rolled across the street.

A few moments later, she furtively gazed at Erik from beneath her lashes. He was staring straight ahead through the wall.

A weighted silence settled between them as they rode to the opera house.

They entered the building the same way that they'd left it earlier that day. Erik opened the hidden door, and they slipped into the unlit passage. The glow of the lantern scurried across the rough walls as Erik strode in the direction of the lake with Jade following.

Without a word they reached the lake. Almost absently, Erik helped her into the boat. As they glided across the water, Jade sat facing away from him, and watched the bobbing lantern light move ahead like the pale hand of a ghost guiding them home. When they stepped into the house, she broke away, and replaced the burnt out candles.

Then she went to her room and shut the door.

Shedding her clothes, she briefly looked at her body as she recalled Christine's profile. He's never looked at me like that, she pondered. It seemed as if he were about to die from longing.

Fighting a growing sense of emptiness, she prayed, Dear God, I hope I never cause him that much pain.

Still, pain was proof of love. It was clear that Erik's love for Christine was strong, stronger than his feelings for her.

Jade entered the bath and turned on the faucets. The pipes rumbled loudly, and water shot out in a spray of hot tension. After a restless soak, she washed herself with a caressing motion and tried to calm down. He is my husband, and I must accept his needs. He loves me. He can't help it if he loves her more. Wringing out the washcloth, she laid it across her forehead and slumped in the bath as a hard knot lodged in her tight throat.

Later, she opened the wardrobe and examined the array of nightgowns that Erik had given her—rose-colored satin, jade green silk, a lace trimmed confection from the night when he had taken her from behind. The elegant garments were a remnant of their couplings and the beauty in between. Tenderly, she pushed them aside with the tips of her fingers, and pulled out a simple, white cotton chemise. Lifting it to her nose, she inhaled its clean smell.

Pulling it over her dark hair, she slipped her slender arms into the sleeves and crawled into bed. Then suddenly, she nervously jumped up, and ran to the candles, which she quickly extinguished. Burying herself in the bed, she cried softly for a few minutes. After she finished, she lay on her back and stared up towards the ceiling.

He'll come for me tonight. Now was the time to plan for it, to produce a feasible story—something that wouldn't sound like the lie that it was.

It's just for tonight, she thought as the tears returned. She couldn't bear the thought of Erik touching her as he thought of Christine. Tomorrow she would be stronger and would face her problem. But tonight, she needed to be alone.

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Erik's heart pounded as he devoured Christine with his eyes.

Porcelain skin, warm eyes brimming with feeling. She is still exquisite.

In that gown she looked as if she had never been pregnant. She could have just stepped out of the past, strolling down the tree-lined boulevard, temporarily truant from her duties at the Opera Populaire.

When she is at home with her husband, does she sing for him?

Her moist lips curved into a full, joyous smile.

She is happy. She's forgotten me.

The carriage moved on, and his eyes followed her until she fell out of sight.

Lost, Erik stared ahead, and forgot where he was until the carriage stopped at the opera house.

As he led them to the lake, he meditated on Christine. It has been over two years, and she has not changed.

The profound silence of the underground cavern soothed him a little and brought him back to his senses. As he paddled the boat across the water, his eyes rested on Jade's erect back. She had said nothing since their carriage had turned towards the Tuileries. However, it was common for them to go for long periods without saying a word. She was comfortable with their silences.

The boat touched shore, and he helped her out. Once inside, Erik sat at his worktable and emptily gazed at an architectural plan he'd been working on earlier that morning. The sound of Jade replacing candles thinly penetrated his hearing. Rising, he sat down in front of the organ and stared at the keys. Then he went to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of wine, which he opened. Pouring himself a glass, he walked out to the lake and sat in the darkness.

Christine's face was still on his mind. How beautiful she is. She had been so close. If he had opened the carriage door, he could have been at her side in a moment. But she was with her husband and friends, ensconced in her new life. Forever beyond my reach.

An enormous sadness was upon him—an intense loneliness that he floundered in. He drained his glass and stared into the blackness, wishing for an escape.

Then it came to him.

Entering the house, he walked to the kitchen. Where is she? Jade would have normally been there preparing their dinner. And in turn, he would have been standing behind her, occasionally putting a spice into the pot or caressing her back as she kneaded the bread dough and smiled up at him with her serene eyes.

Spinning on his heel, he headed to their bedroom. The room was brightly lit with candles that she had replaced but there was no other sign of her. The bed was still made.

At her bedroom door, he paused and listened. It was silent within. Touching the handle, he pushed open the door and stepped into the unlit room.

It was dark inside but the faint light from the hall gave him what he needed. He could see her small form lying in bed. Eagerly, he sat beside her.

"Jade?" he asked softly. She stirred and turned to him. Her eyes were open and shining in the dim light.

His first impulse was to pick her up and carry her to their bedroom. Reaching for her, she stopped him with her voice.

"Erik, if you don't mind terribly, I'm not feeling very well. I think it would be best if I stayed here for the night."

"What is the matter, my dear?"

"It's my stomach. It's uneasy. I think I had too much food and champagne, and then the long carriage ride afterwards. I'm sorry to be a bother but I think I'll be fine by morning if I can get some rest."

Gently stroking her hair, he asked, "How long have you been ill?"

"Since we crossed the river, I think. Yes, it was about then that I started to feel it."

"I can give you some tea," he said solicitously.

"Thank you, but I think all I need is to sleep. It's soothing here in the darkness."

"Yes. The darkness can indeed be soothing. Goodnight, my dear." Bending over, he kissed her forehead and breathed in her sweet scent. Then he rose, and left her.

Returning to his room, Erik locked the door, removed his mask, and stripped down to his bare skin. Putting on a silk robe, he climbed into bed. However, he couldn't sleep. Lying there, Christine's face returned--a shining beacon of light. Then Jade's followed, and he gazed at them side by side. Inevitably, he compared them—the two women that he loved. Christine had a warm and open face with an enchanting smile. Jade's was dreamy, full of curiosity and sometimes reserved and self-contained.

Then her look of ecstasy was before him. Her lips were parted and her eyelashes fluttering in time to her frantic moans. He had never seen those expressions on Christine's face. He could only imagine what they might be like. But he knew Jade's intimately.

He was fully erect. Leaving his bed, he quickly put on the mask, and strode to her room where he stood outside in the hall. Staring at the door's handle, his hand shook as he reached for it.

I need her. Her love would restore him to the happiness he had felt before seeing Christine. He would sink into her flesh, join with her, and feel whole again.

Blast her stomach problems!

Panting, he wrestled with his immense need. Then he turned away, and stalked back to his room where he shut the door and locked it again. With clenched teeth, he threw off the silk robe and fell into bed. Grimly, he took his shaft in his hand and set about to relieve his misery.

A/N: just a tiny bit of M material in this chapter.

Tour means tower.

A sou was one twentieth of a franc.

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