Chapter Nineteen

"Honestly Tatiana I do not know how I can ever go back to my old life in Paris after experiencing such a day of indulgence." Meg chatted unremitting. "Your father is so very kind and generous! Just look at all the lovely things he purchased for me."

Tatiana shook her head in amusement as she watched Meg hold her new gown up against her petite frame. Meg had arrived with the alleviation of a child. She envied Meg's ability to become deliriously happy over a few gifts.

"You will look beautiful when you wear it."

"Oh, Ana, can you imagine if I'm actually able to attend a ball?" Meg squealed. "It would be magical."

"You've attended masquerade balls before, have you not?"

"Well yes," she admitted, "but it was different. The entire event could have been magical had it not been for-"she abruptly stopped as she looked up in embarrassment. "I'm sorry; I should not have said anything."

"You are entitled to your opinion Meg."

"Mama would wring my neck if she heard me." Meg whispered. "She is always concerning herself over him. It is a little embarrassing actually."

"Your mother is very protective of Erik. There is nothing wrong with her concern. I find it rather motherly of her."

"I suppose it has become second nature to her." Meg shrugged. "I doubt Mama could ever truly stop concerning herself over his fate."

"You seem almost resentful." She raised an elegant eyebrow. "Even jealous, if I may be so bold."

"You think I'm jealous of him?" Meg laughed. "Honestly Ana you cannot be serious."

"I'm merely making an observation." She shrugged her shoulders. "He has given you no reason to mistrust him, yet I cannot help but notice you remain cordial yet distant towards him."

"I know I have not been very friendly, but you must understand it is difficult for me to be friends with someone I was terrified of only a few short months ago."

"I understand; believe me I do. Given your unique history, it is far from ideal but I wish you would try just a little more. I do not expect him to become your intimate friend, I just wish for you to be kind and receptive to any overtures." Meg gave her a curious look. "What?"

"Why a sudden interest in Erik all the sudden?"

"I merely believe considering our living arrangements, which will likely extend for some time, it would be wise for us all to live in harmony." She reasoned hoping logic would prevail. "I would like to be able to sit with you both without prolonged moments of tension between you two."

"Funny, a few weeks ago I would have said the same thing about you two." Meg titled her head at her. "You two are suddenly getting along rather well as of late."

"We had our differences, we resolved them." She said dismissively. "I fail to understand your tone."

"I simply do not see why you enjoy his companionship so much."

"Is it so difficult to believe he can be an entertaining person to engage?"

"I don't see what you find so fascinating about him. I doubt he ever discusses his past which is the most interesting thing about him. He is neither friendly nor engaging so yes, forgive me for finding it just a little difficult to believe he 'entertaining'."

"He is a very intelligent man. If you attempted to engage him you'd discover he could easily entertain you for hours on end."

"You certainly think very highly of him." Meg blinked in confusion.

"Erik is a genius. It should not be so very difficult to believe I would enjoy engaging him in conversations about various topics."

"It is difficult for me to believe you would rather sit with him than with me." Meg fumed.

"You cannot be serious," she frowned, "You really are jealous of him."

"I am not!"

"At least be honest with yourself."

"There is nothing for me to envy." She huffed.

"Do not be so childish Meg; it's hardly suitable for someone of our age."

"I'm only eighteen! A little immaturity is perfectly acceptable compared to your frosty attitude."

"That was uncalled for Meg."

"You enjoy pointing out my flaws but never look at your own."

"You know nothing." Her eyes narrowed at Meg.

"I know nothing because you tell me nothing!" Meg cried. "I have told you everything and hold back nothing, while you divulge nothing and what little you do, I have to force out of you!"

"Believe it or not, not everyone is capable of speaking of their troubles."

"Obviously!" Meg crossed her arms over her chest. "Friends share their troubles, and while I have freely discussed my troubles and concerns with you, never have you shown the same level of trust towards me."

"It is not a matter of trust, Meg." Her calm voice was laced with anger. "I wish you could understand-"

"Of course, I'm too stupid to understand. Not like Erik who is such a genius he understands everything so easily."

"That is not what I said."

"But it is what you meant!" Meg cried defiantly. "I know I'm not an intellectual, I never have been and likely never will be. I know what I am not, but I also recognize what I am. I'm a good loyal friend. That is not hard to understand. I would guard your secrets with the same code of honor all friends share. For all your knowledge you know nothing about being a friend."

A stone silence befell the room. Meg's mouth parted slightly as realization slowly took hold of what had just been said.

"Ana, I did not mean-." Meg attempted to apologize.

"No, Meg, you did mean every word." Her voice calmly replied as she made her way towards the bedroom door. "Forgive me, but I rather be alone at the moment."

"Tatiana, please don't leave, I really did not mean it." Meg cried after her but her words fell on deaf ears as she exited the bedroom, leaving Meg alone with her remorse.

Nicholas frowned when the servant informed him Tatiana would not be joining them for dinner. He had also not missed little Meg's somber expression. He had hoped they would all be able to engage in a harmonious dinner, it would seem it was not be.

"You appear concern, Nicholas."

"Perplexed really," he turned to look at his Antoinette, "She appeared in good spirits this morning."

"She may just need some time alone."

"You think?"

"There is much weighing heavily on her mind these days," Antoinette gave him a reassuring smile, "allow her some privacy."He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.

"My voice of reason." He mumbled against her skin.

"Nicky." She whispered motioning with her eyes at Meg, who appeared oblivious to their display of affections. He gave Antoinette a quick wink before releasing her hand.

"Is something not your liking Meg?" Her startled little expression reaffirmed his earlier suspicions.

"No, everything is simply lovely."

"If the food is not your liking I could have the chef prepare you something else." He offered.

"None sense, Nicholas." Antoinette frowned. "The food is delicious. Meg does not require a separate meal."

"I really do not." Meg replied eagerly. "The food is divine, I was simply thinking."

"You are certain?"

"Yes, thank you for your continued kindness."

"Meg please finish your dinner." Antoinette instructed.

"Yes mama."

He wondered what on earth was occurring with the young girls of the house as proceeded to enjoy his meal.

Meg's words had hurt, stung actually.

Her melancholy state was testament to it. She could not resent Meg's anger, for in truth she had spoken valid truths. Hurtful as they may be, she accepted her inability to conform to characteristics which had once come so naturally to her. She had friends before her marriage.

Meg had been the first person she had befriended since her marriage. Despite her best intentions it was evident her tentative steps at friendships had been failures.

She lingered in her bed, her face and arms buried in her pillow. Her thoughts took her to her social interactions which she had mastered, yet painfully realized, she was a master of deception. She could play the role of an intimate friend, but could not be one. Vladimir had thought her well.

Her throat contracted in pain as she fought to repress her sorrow. It would never be as it was once was. She will never be as she once was. She blinked in a slight surprise as she realized a tear had escaped her eye. How long had it been since she had wept?

"Manipulative bastard," she mumbled into her pillow as she wiped tears from her eyes. He had hindered her incapable of leading a normal life. She could not trust, not befriend, and perhaps not even love properly. Parts of her were incontrovertibly fractured.

Despite leaving Vladimir's side, she remained very much the same repressed girl who dreamed of returning home. Not simply returning home, but to the past she could never reclaim.

"By no means can we forget nor should we forget our past, but rather utilize our experiences to guide us in our present and future," Erik's words suddenly echoed in her mind. Morph our sorrows into lessons learned, she thought bitterly.

Had she learned her lesson? She could recall so much of her sorrows over the course of her marriage. The humiliation, the sense of hopelessness and her despair as slowly transformed into a shell of her former self.

She inhaled deeply and realized she was not alone. Speak of the devil.

"I suppose it would be too much to expect you to announce yourself before you enter my private rooms." She remarked dryly as she quickly wiped her eyes.

"You suppose correctly." A low and placid voice replied. She looked over her shoulder to see Erik standing near the door. "What gave away my presence?"

"I smelled your cologne." She admitted. "I believe we need to discuss the possibility of obtaining a collar with a bell attached for you."

"An amusing thought." He smirked as he slowly approached her. She turned her head back against the comfort of her pillow.

"If you do not mind can we refrain from our lessons this evening," she sighed, "I'm frankly not in the mood or of mind for them this evening."

"So I see." His gloved hand extended to offer her a handkerchief. She frowned at the material. "It is unsettling to see you so afflicted."

"It is unsettling to us both." She confessed as she took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. "Thank you."'

"I do not pretend to know the cause of your distress," Erik declared as he knelt beside the bed, "I merely know I do not wish to see you weep."

"I weep out of self pity." She quipped. "Foolish isn't?"

"We are all prone to moments of self-reproach; some more than others."

"Speaking from experience?"

"Very much so." She laughed at his confession. Realizing in how insignificant her troubles must appear when compared to his experiences.

"I appreciate your honesty." She gave a weary smile. "I'm sure you must think me frivolous."

"There are many words I could associate with you." He looked at her sharply. "Frivolous would not be among them." An uncomfortable silence followed as she became entranced by the intensity of his gaze. His expression was impossible to interpret, yet she felt her skin tingling with awareness and a sensation she could not quite name.

"I don't know if that is intended to be a compliment or not," she finally said, in hopes of ending the uncomfortable silence.

"It was," he whispered as his gloved hand reached up to cup her face. Transfixed his boldness, she remained frozen as his leather thumb wiped away her tear. "Do not weep for what cannot be undone." his voice was laced with a tenderness she had never detected before.

"You should not be here."

"I should not be here." He echoed in light mirth.

"You are breaking several rules of etiquette by being here," she warned with no true seriousness to her tone, "my reputation would be ruined if someone found you here."

"Ah, yes the all important reputation." He snorted as he removed his hand. "Nobility has a strange sense of propriety."

"Do we?" she played coy as she got up to her feet.

"You insist on observed rules for the world, yet break them at your own discretion."

"Exactly, at our own discretion. It may be difficult to believe Erik, but society is soundly and thoroughly made up hypocrites."

"Not difficult to believe at all." He said as he looked down at her. "Although I must confess I myself am partial to bending the rules from time to time."

"Somehow I find the fact very easy to believe." She does not bother to hide her amusement. His casual reference to his less than law abiding ways was oddly an exciting development. He had willingly shared a tidbit of information with her, and she was thrilled by the implication of the gesture. He was beginning to trust her.

"Is something wrong?" He inquired.

"No, I was simply allowing my thoughts to get the best of me," she gave a light smile, "why don't we go ahead with our lesson this evening."

"I did think you were of mind this evening."

"Have you not ever heard the phrase, misery loves company?"

The evening has passed remarkably fast. He had not sought to intrude or linger long. He had merely elected to check in on her after overhearing the servants say Tatiana had excused herself from dinner. It had been unsettling to see her in such a sad state. He had been honest when he said he did not care to see her cry. It genuinely bothered him. She had been kind when no kindness was required. Attentive when she had no obligation to be. In short, he had been touched by her attentions. Much like her father, she sought to put him in ease and provide a sense of inclusion which had always been denied to him.

Everything was far too foreign for his senses and instincts to understand. One moment he was suspicious of everyone around him, the next he found himself longing for the very companionship he had previously been adverse against.

Nicholas and Tatiana were aside from Antoinette, were his only companions in the world. Each provided him with unique personalities he honestly enjoyed engaging. Although he would be the first to admit he valued the friendship Nicholas and Tatiana had extended to him, it was by no means comparable to one forged long ago with Antoinette.

Antoinette Giry was the one constant reminder of his past. Only with her could he even mention the past, the Opera house, his music, and Christine. He closed his eyes at the sudden ache that touched his heart.

Christine was simply the wound that would never truly heal. Her name alone brought wave of emotions forward. He damned himself because he could never damn her. He loved her too much to wish any harm to her. He knew he could not have her, yet he blamed himself for driving her away.

Whenever he and Antoinette breeched the subject of Christine, she never failed to breach the subject with refined caution. She kindly claimed he had done the right thing, and been the better man for it. He never thought of it as doing the right thing, he always thought of it as giving her happiness. Happiness she never would have found at his side.

He was well aware of Meg's correspondence with her, yet he never inquired. Christine was in the past, there was no going back, and he accepted that fact. Accepting her departure from his life did not lesson his love or pain, in fact it amplified it. For it removed all hope of ever seeing his Angel of Music again.

His sorrow was his own. Thankfully he could mourn his loss in private. Antoinette did not inquire often, and Nicholas had enough tact to leave the matter be. Tatiana, much like her father, appeared to understand his sorrow yet have enough sense to know it was not a matter he wished to discuss.

Tatiana he had discovered to be as enigmatic as he. Their acquaintanceship he could concede was odd, expect they both shared much in common. Neither wished to discuss their past; nor any of the emotional turmoil which had resulted from it.

Their mutual agreement had been beneficial for them both. He had no desire to discuss his past, and neither did she. They had enough intelligent conversations to sustain them for hours on end. Yet, he had become more and more intrigued to be point where he craved to know more about her.

He yearned to know what had occurred, what could have persuaded her to leave her husband. He was no fool; a woman no matter the status, wealth or title would never divorce her husband simply because she was unhappy. The very notion was appalling and taboo for many. The scandal surrounding the divorce and the aftermath was enough for most women to simply resolve themselves to the card life had dealt them. Yet Tatiana had not, she had decided to break away from the unhappy union prepared to face it all for her freedom.

He would have given her freedom, with gusto. The idea of disposing of her husband had lingered in his mind. It would not have been the first time he had eliminated a problem. What was one more on his conscious? It would have repaid his debt to both Nicholas and Tatiana. How easy it would have been to simply make her a widow and avoid the scandal all together, but alas she had declined his offer and instead elected to have a favor owed to her.

The Alexandrov's had given him much; far more than he could ever adequately repay. His gratitude was such he doubted he would ever refuse any favor Tatiana or Nicholas could ask of him.

He knew his attitude towards them wasn't always the best, he also realized they worried about him, although, truth-be-told, there was not much to worry about. He had made peace with his demons at least for now.

Inhaling deeply, he turned over on the bed as he pushed aside his exhausting thoughts and began to slowly drift off to a much needed and desired sleep.

Her delicate small hands caressed his shoulders as his arms wrapped themselves around her slender form. She melted against him; his hands began to caress her back, his fingertips gently tracing the pattern of her dress which lead to exposed skin. He inhaled her scent, her sweet unique scent which had intoxicated his senses for so long.

"Angel," she whispered against his ear sending a shiver down his spine, "love me."

His lips curled into a smile as she dipped her head backwards giving him access to her neck. He placed tentative kisses along her neck. Torn between desire and fear, he savored the foreign sensations arising from simple skin to skin contact.

He began to slowly kiss a down her collarbone, pulling on the material of her blouse desperate for access.

She captured his face between her hands. She looked at her with a started expression. Partially out of confusion, partially out fear she would ask him to stop. She smiled before brazenly placing her lips against his in a fiery kiss.

"I have dreamed of this for so long," he whispered against her lips, "so very long."

"So have I." She echoed as she began to pull on his shirt, her hands finding the skin beneath the fabric.

He could not breath. Her scent, her kiss, not her touch. It was far more than he was capable of handling. He returned her kiss with a zealousness that startled her out of her gentle exploring.

"Christine, I love you." He whispered as he pulled away slowly opening his eyes to look upon her beautiful glowing face. His brows came together in confusion as instead of seeing two familiar chocolate colored eyes, he looked into two distinctly beautiful cornflower eyes.

His eyes snapped open as panic and humiliation jolted him from his sleep. He was breathing slightly harder than normal, and he could feel a few strands of sweat dripping down his face. He ran his hands over his face.

"Merde!"

A/N:

The slow burn is heating up a little. Later chapters will be far more steamy. Not sure if they are acceptable or not off FF . net, but we shall face that speed bump when we reach it.

Thank you to everyone who left reviews. I appreciate them so, so much. There is nothing more rewarding as a aspiring writer to know, my work is actually enjoyed by readers. I know I make a few grammar mistakes, and I apologize. I try to catch them, but I always miss a few. I disclosed this some time ago but english is not my first language. If you were to read the original draft of Moving On, you'd be horrified, I know I am. And I can honestly say, even as I'm currently reading over old chapters and revising the one's I cringe, A LOT. At least I see growth in my writing which is something.

Anyway, please feel free to leave feedback. Merry Christmas everyone!