Chapter Fourteen

Nicholas listen with great care as Erik reluctantly disclosed what had transpired earlier in the evening which had resulted with an irate daughter and an affronted guest. In truth he blamed both for not walking away from the situation. They had continued to provoke one another, each evidently lacking the basic sense to understand the lines which were being crossed. Neither caring to pause or reflect on their words. In short, both behaved like uninhibited children.

He was too old for this, he thought wearily as he ran his hand over his face in exasperation. He was fond of Erik, he genuinely was. Had it been any other person who had raised their hand to his daughter, he doubted he would have been able to remain calmly in his chair.

"Erik, may I ask your age?" he asked evenly as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I do not know my age." He said impassively.

"You don't know your age?"

"Antoinette and I believe she is a few years older than I," he shrugged, "I believe I'm in my thirties."

"Tatiana is eighteen, soon to be nineteen. Do you not think a man of your age should know better than a child?" He noted Erik's clenched jaw, and although he felt some remorse for his choice words, he knew in his heart of hearts, both Erik and Tatiana needed to be lectured. "Erik I know how difficult my daughter can be. I'm aware you have your own demons but I cannot stand here and allow you two to literally assault one another."

"It was she who started this entire mess!" Erik hissed in a childish defense.

"Regardless, you should have ignored her. Erik, you must keep your temper in check. I'm afraid all the opportunities in the world will be for nothing if you cannot learn to control your fiery temperament."

"I control my temperament well enough when I'm not provoked."

"Yes, however how long until another person provokes you? What is someone inadvertently angers you? Erik my boy, I do not believe you are as in control as you wish to believe."

Erik remained silent for some time before begrudgingly giving a slight nod.

"I will deal with my daughter, for her behavior is not without reproach. She needs to remember what name she carries and whose blood runs through her veins. On behalf of my daughter I apologize Erik, I truly do."

"I doubt she shares your sentiments."

"I cannot justify her behavior, for in truth nothing could defend her actions." He admitted freely. "I can say without question, my Tatiana has been through much. You and she have both endured your share of hardships, and while I do not pretend to place her misfortune on the same category as yours, I wish you could understand her sharp tongue and ill temper are as a result of hardships endured during her time away."

"I do not know what hardships she may have endured in her marriage; however I will concede my conduct this evening was less than savory."

"I don't know why, but I trust you Erik. I know you two do not get along, and somehow you bring out the worst in one another, but you have to try. We are leaving for Saint Petersburg next week. If you are to join us for the winter season then you must behave like a gentleman. Believe me when I say people will not notice your mask if you charm yourself into their hearts." Erik expression revealed nothing. "The decision is yours."

"I understand."

"As long as you are my guest I will insist you treat my daughter with respect and I will ask the same of her."

Madame Giry walked into the room, pausing at the door. She gave a Erik a nervous glance.

"If you excuse me, I have other business to attend." Erik politely excused himself.

"Is he to leave?" she inquired softly.

"No."

The flash of surprise that came over her features did not escape his notice. He realized then she had likely been pacing nervously nearby, dreading the outcome of his conversation with Erik.

"Thank you." She gave him a small smile. A smile which did wonders to his heart.

He stood from his chair and slowly approached her towards her, his eyes never wavering from hers. Unable to sustain his gaze she lowered her gaze to the ground. He carefully placed his hand under chin, his thumb slowly running across her porcelain cheek.

"Antoinette, you have nothing to thank me for." he whispered as he placed her hand on his face, relishing in the simple pleasure of her soft touch. Her lips parted as to speak but no words emerged. He did not require her words. He was content to simply have her there with him.

How many years had he not yearned for moments like these? Imagining what a shared a life together would have yielded, all the while loving her from a distance as they each lead separate lives along their respected spouses. Her husband may have never suspected of her true feelings, but the same could not be said about his late wife Marie. She had been all too aware of her his sentiments and she never forgave him for it.

"Je t'aime tellment," he whispered as he leaned his forehead against hers, "toujours."

She said nothing, not wanting to ruin the magical moment between them. It would seem Nicholas had the gift of making any moment between them magical. Or perhaps she was simply becoming sentimental in her old age.

His hands slowly moved to her back and brought her closer to him until her chest was pressed against his.

"Nicky..." she attempted to protest but the desires of the flesh were so difficult to deny.

"Don't deny me, Antoinette. Just one kiss, please." he whispered as his lips brushed against her earlobe. She pulled away from his heated embrace.

"I cannot allow this to happen again Nicholas."

"Do you not think we deserve a chance to be happy?"

"Do not be carried away by nostalgia."

"It is not nostalgia which moves me stand before you with my heart on my hand once more." She could feel her heart hammering against her chest. "I have loved you for over twenty years!" he continued. "Twenty years I have dreamed and prayed for a chance to one day have you at my side."

"As your mistress?" She knew not where the valor had emerged from for her to ask such a disreputable yet honest question.

"As my wife! Don't you see Antoinette? I love you too much to belittle you that way. If I cannot have you as my wife then I cannot have you at all. I have lived these past years attempting to repent for my sins, in the hopes God will forgive me and grant me my deepest desire. My most ardent wish of living what life I have yet to live with you." Nicholas passionately professed.

"It can never be Nicky."

"Why? You and I are now both free. Our daughters have become woman. They will make their lives and leave us." He took her hand in his, pressing an ardent kiss upon her knuckles. "Antoinette, no one will love you the way I love you."

She said nothing, her eyes fixed on his desperate gaze. God help her, she wanted to believe him, but how could she? There was so much history between them, good and bad. Beautiful and bitter moments; which she has replayed in her mind a million times over.

"You broke my heart Nicky," she declared honestly. "I swore never again."

She needed not to expand on her reasons. His wounded expression revealed he understood her all too well. There were some times although forgiven could never be forgotten.

"I have begged you for forgiveness time and time again," he declared poignantly. "God knows I have paid dearly for my errors." To her astonishment he knelt down before her, on both knees. "I kneel before you and ask not as that implosive youth who failed to weigh the consequences of his actions, but as a matured man who is desperate to share his life with you." He took her hands in his, his eyes glossy. "Marry me, my love."

"Nicky-," her trembling voice could not continue. Her heart was beating wildly within her chest, screaming for her to accept, yet could not. "We are from different worlds." She at last found her voice to speak reason. "You are titled nobleman while I am nothing more than an improvised ex ballerina."

"You're the queen of my heart."

"You will regret it."

"No I won't," he kissed her hands. "Never."

"You need -,"

"I need you Antoinette! I have always needed only you."

Years of solitude and sacrifice had made her a strong woman, but even the strongest of women could not resist their heart forever. Unable to restrain herself she too fell to her knees and embraced him. She kissed his tears away before taking his face in her hands and boldly kissing him with a passion that startled even her. She felt him stiffen in her arms before returning her heated kiss with gusto. Their tongues explored each other's mouth, dancing to their own unique harmony. If anyone walked in they'd be scandalized by the scene before them, but she did not care. Propriety was thrown to the winds. All that mattered was that they were finally together.

Tatiana lay restlessly on her bed silently debating whether or not she should apologize to Erik. Her anger had melted away and been replaced with shame after her discussion with Meg. Or rather after listening to Meg's sad tale. Although many things still remained unanswered, Meg had revealed enough for her to understand his need for privacy.

Reflecting over their animated encounter, she could not justify her behavior. Even if Erik had been rude, her response was unbecoming of a lady, let alone someone proclaiming to be of noble birth. She huffed in irritation. Her guilt would not allow her to sleep.

Unable to sleep her idle mind only caused her to reflect on Erik's lonely existence. Meg claimed he was deformed, hence the reason for the mask. Although how the injury came to be she could not say. Meg also disclosed much about her friend Christine. A talented young beauty who had captivated Erik, but had not returned his sentiments.

At least her Sasha had returned her affections. A small smile touched her lips as she vividly recalled the handsome Alexander Orloff. There had so much promise for a future together. "Do you ever think of me?" she whispered into the darkness. Would he find her less attractive than before? He'd always called her beautiful, but she had not felt beautiful in years. If she was laying in the darkness pinning for her lost love, who was to say Erik was not doing the same? Her guilt continued to nag.

Exasperated she sat up in bed. It was not his fault for what he was. Like her, he had been molded over years of abuse, neglect, and heartache. If she was cold and withdrawn after two years, how could she think less of man who had endured so much more and for many years?

She rolled off her bed, and reached to light the candle by her bed. It was obvious she would not be able to rest until she had relieved her conscious of its burden. Quickly putting her robe and slippers on, she walked to where she had blocked off the adjoining room. Her father had not altered the room arrangements since her arrival. Her only resolution at the time had been to place her desk against the door. Not that she expected any impropriety from him; it was simply a need to be in control of her surroundings.

She knew it was highly improper for her to go into a man's bedroom, however she needed to apologize. Besides it was not as if he would be shocked by her behavior, she had already muddled any favorable impression he could have possibly have had of her. Resolving her mind she began to push the desk away from the door. Once the task was completed she inhaled deeply as she stood before the door.

"I've crossed this door countless time before," she mumbled to herself. "Just never to speak with a man I've offended and struck." Gathering her wits and armed with determination she knocked on the door.

Erik winced slightly as he ran his finger from his lips to his jaw.

"The woman is a formidable force to be reckoned with," he mumbled with some bemusement.

His thoughts turned to his earlier little conversation with Madame Giry. She had labeled them children, as had Nicholas in his own way, but children none the less. He found the compassion insulting, yet begrudgingly accepted his behavior was lacking at times.

It had been especially difficult to stand before Nicholas as he was scolded. He found he could hardly reproach Nicholas for his advice or lectures. His behavior had warned both. In truth, he found himself rather fond of older man. The man had gone beyond providing a means of escape; he had provided him the means to establish a new life.

Nicholas had advised he would win the hearts of society, if he could refrain from losing his temperament. The question was, could he? 'You can feign manners but a pauper in fine clothes is still a pauper.' Tatiana's words had stung because they were laced with truth. He was nothing more than an illusion. Despite his best attempts to adapt the behavior of a gentleman, in truth his primitive nature would always prevail.

Erik walked over to the large gilded mirror on the wall and stared at his reflection. His hand reached up to touch the white porcelain mask that tormented him so. He detested the mask, yet loathed what lay beneath it even more. His hand slowly came, his fingers hovering over the mask but frozen at the sound of a knock.

His features morphed into a suspicious frown as he turned to look at his bedroom door. For a moment, he believed perhaps one of the servants had accidently knocked on his door. Just as he opened his mouth to dismiss them, a louder knock came from across the room. He blinked in confusion as he realized the knock was indeed coming from the door which adjoined his room and Tatiana's.

"May I come in?" she called out softly.

He frantically looked around for his robe. He was hardly decent to receive anyone let alone a woman. He hurried into his robe, clumsily fumbling as he attempted to securely close his robe around his waist. He turned to inspect himself in the mirror, ensuring he was at least modestly presentable. Ignoring the foreign sensations which had suddenly appeared, he walked towards the door he had attempted to ignore over the last several weeks.

"Good evening." she said shyly. "May I come in?" She stood before him also in a robe, her hair pulled back into a simple braid that lay casually over her shoulder.

"Do you really think it proper for you to do so?" He raised his eye brow in mock amusement.

"No, but I genuinely do not care." He smiled lightly at her boldness before moving aside and motioning her to come it.

"What can I help you with tonight Madame Alexandrova."

"I'm here to apologize for my behavior this afternoon."

"There is no need to apologize. Your father already did." He remarked dryly.

"He was not the one with the ghastly behavior this afternoon," she appeared uncharacteristically perturbed. "My behavior was unbecoming of a lady-" Her words trailed off as her gaze appeared to focus on his face. He frowned as her hand moved to touch his bruised lip. He recoiled from her touch, causing an unfamiliar tinge of red to spread across her features. "I'm sorry." She mumbled.

"Tell me are you here out of guilt or on orders of your father?" He inquired wryly.

"I have yet to speak with my father."

"So it's guilt." He could not mask the mirth in his voice. "Your consciousness can be laid to rest. You may keep your apology; all I ask is that you respect my privacy."

"I was trying to share something with you, and I thought-."

"You believed because you had shared a few tidbits of information about your family that I would suddenly be overcome with a need to discuss my own?" he snapped angrily as he moved away from her.

"No, it wasn't like that. I was simply attempting to understand you better."

"There is not much to understand," he cautiously warned, "or know."

"Forgive me, I believe I have made yet another lapse in judgment this evening." She declared before turning to leave. Her steps came to a stop when she stood in the doorway between the rooms. He watched as she hovered in the doorway with her back turned to him. For a moment, he believed she would turn to look at him and ignite yet another disagreement between them.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight, Madame?" he could not resist the jab.

"I was sixteen when I was forced to marry Vladimir," she said softly. "I have lost much because of him: my happiness, my innocence, and my family. I may not have suffered what you been force to endure in life, but I do believe I have suffered enough to understand anger and loneliness when I see tt." she declared sadly before closing the door.

God, he must think me a fool! She cursed herself over and over again as she undid her robe and went to her bed.

'At least I apologized...what little good it did me.' She mumbled to herself.

She climbed into bed and laid her face against her pillow thinking of how differently things could have been if only she married Sasha...her Sasha. She felt her eyes moisten as she thought o the life that was and wasn't. She was crying for Sasha, not Vladimir, her tears were permissible. She allowed herself to silently weep in the privacy and darkness of her room. After several minutes she noted her pillow had become damp against her face. Sighing in frustration she reached for the second pillow on her bed and flung the dampen pillow away.

"You almost hit me with that thing." A familiar amused voice came from the darkness.

She instantly brought the covers up to her chin. "What are you doing here!" she hissed in a voice just above a whisper.

"You still owe me a lesson for evening."

"Now?"

"Why not?"

"I'm in bed."

"Then get out of bed."

"I'm not going to get out of bed simply because you suddenly decided you needed to have a lesson in the middle of the night."

"Well you got me out of bed with your need to clear your conscious." He offered innocently.

Manipulative bastard, she thought with some amusement. Despite not being able to see his features, she could practically feel his mocking gaze upon her.

"Fine!" She reached for her nightstand, fumbling a little as she struggled to find a candle to light. After a few long moments, light finally flickered and illuminated the room. She jumped back in surprise, almost dropping the candle holder when she saw Erik was sitting besides her in a chair he had apparently moved without making the most minimal of sound. "How did you get there?"

"I walked over and sat down." She rolled her eyes.

"In the dark?"

"Instinct." He offered casually, as he lifted his hand to reveal her robe in his grasp.

"You are terrible." She shook her head as she took the robe from his hand.

"My dear dyevushka, you have no idea." He grinned mischievously.

She couldn't help the smile that touched her own lips, perhaps there was hope after all.

A/N: Dyevushka is Russian for Girl