THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R/NC-17. I'm honestly not sure where that line gets drawn, so be forewarned!

Thank you to all of my readers, and my reviewers (particularly Marblesky for your amazing feedback. You always know how to bolster my ego!)

and my quasi-collaborator E.M.K.81! She has helped me IMMENSELY, and has drawn my first fan art! You can find her on deviant art as Erik1881 (If that is incorrect in any way, please correct me in the reviews, E.M.)

Don't worry – NOT the last chapter. Plenty of drama to come!

Once again, I ask leniency when it comes to pointing out my no doubt numerous left over typos. I hope they do not detract from the joy this chapter is meant for Erik lovers to feel. And if you aren't an Erik lover, I don't know WTF you're doing HERE. lmao!

"You are doing very well."

Erik watched gentle color suffuse Arabella's face. Because she had been there to see all his lessons with Christine, she knew how hard his compliments were to come by. But what she did not seem to realize was that he'd been so severe with Christine because of what her aspirations had bee. He hadn't been able to praise her as much as he'd longed to. He'd needed to keep up the facade of being an Angel … and then he'd had to continue with the same routine once she knew him as Erik. Giving her too many compliments would have made her far too self-assured about her future as a soprano in the Opera House; and ego helped absolutely no one in such a career.

Arabella, however, was only taking piano lessons from him for the fun of it. He would not praise her if she were not doing well – but he was far more able to give her the praise she probably needed much more. Christine, after all, had believed herself to have been picked by God above to receive divine lessons from the Angel of Music. Arabella was hearing praises from the man she knew as her husband. Sometimes such simpler connections made compliments mean all that much more.

"They are just scales…" she protested.

"They are fast and intricate scales." He corrected, standing up from the piano bench where they had already been sitting side-by-side for a few hours. "I need something to drink. Would you like me to pour something for you?"

"No, I'm all right." Arabella turned without rising, and leaned down. Erik watched from the corner of his eyes as she reached for the laces of the brand new shoes she was wearing, and began to slip them off. He turned his back to pour a very small glass of brandy. "You know that you make a terrible liar, don't you? I'm not some gullible ingénue that's going to believe all your pretty compliments. I know I'm a fumbling novice."

He couldn't help but smile. Although so little had changed in their daily routines since the night of the Bois de Vincennes incident; he somehow found himself almost always smiling now. Taking a sip from his drink, he turned to face her again.

He saw that she'd already done quick worth with the shoes, and then pulled the skirt up almost to her knees to unroll her stockings and remove them as well. It gave him a far too tantalizing look at her calves and ankles – parts of a woman he thought he would never so casually glimpse. But this was such a simple sighting … such a simple moment… Although nearly every part of his mind and body stirred at the sight, that was all it was. It was nothing but a stirring of vague male interest.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, although he allowed amusement into his tone. Somehow he just… didn't have it in him to be scandalized in that moment. Maybe it was the fact that they'd grown so much closer … even if nothing had happened between them.

"I was hoping you would let me dance for you again." She glanced up at him, caught him looking at her legs, and gave an utterly flirtatious and indulgent smile. He hunched his shoulders slightly, his ears burning as his face filled with color and his eyes dropped to the glass of liquor in his hand. "And I dance best in bare feet."

"I always like watching you dance." He admitted almost sheepishly. "But you probably should have waited until I agreed. This flat is far too cold to go around barefoot without good reason."

"You're lecturing."

"More like gently scolding…"

"Erik… you know don't have to look away… don't you?"

He blushed even hotter; placing what little of his glass was left beside the brandy decanter.

"It is best if I do…"

"Why? You never look away while I'm dancing. And I know my skirt flies up sometimes when I do."

"That's different…"

"How?" Arabella rose to her feet and crossed the space between them, making Erik feel a little overwhelmed. For all the time Arabella now invaded his private space in the smallest and gentlest of ways… he still found it amazing that she would bother doing so.

"You… you are not undressing yourself when you are dancing." He admitted reluctantly, trying to back away and edge to the side so that he wasn't – in his eyes – pinned between her and the cabinet. It was silly to feel so claustrophobic, when he had plenty of room between himself and the siren called Arabella. "Tell me, ma belle… What do you want me to play for your dance? Would you like something in particular… or shall I improvise as I used to for our performances?"

"You are changing the subject." She accused him with a knowing smile.

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"Honestly, Erik, is it so terrible that you were looking at my legs?" Arabella wouldn't let him escape.

"I could play the song I played for our first performance… or at least some variation on it." He offered desperately. "I never wrote it down, so I never memorized it. But I remember the themes involved."

"Erik!" Arabella crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes alight with mischief. "I am not going to answer any of your questions until you answer mine. Why is it so terrible that you were looking at my legs? I don't understand why legs are considered so indecent!"

Sighing, Erik made a dramatic, helpless gesture with both arms and hands.

"I… it's… It's not your legs…" He admitted in exasperation. "It … it has more to do with where the legs lead. And if a man is staring at woman's ankle and wanting to touch it… he's going to imagine sliding his hand high-"

He took a sharp step to the side, mortified at his explicit confession – even if it had gone unfinished. He'd certainly caved in to her demand for an answer. He hadn't meant to say so much… but sometimes he just felt so flustered when she gave him that flirtatious look! He still had a hard time putting together the mature and confident Arabella inside of her mind with the young and tortured girl she appeared to be from his past. Filthy and indecent thoughts about her made him feel so damned guilty! After all she'd been through in her life, she didn't deserve to have a man gaping at her and thinking such disgusting things!

He dared to glance at her from the side of his eye. She'd grown still, her face bright red as she took in his meaning. She fidgeted a moment, and he groaned.

"Can you forgive me?" he whispered. "Thinking such disgusting things? Fantasizing about you that way?"

"Erik…" Arabella shifted slowly, carefully reaching out and lightly caressing the top of his arm. He felt like shrining away… but her touch always felt far too good. He didn't want to lose the sensation that came now more often than before… but still not nearly often enough. He adored the feeling of her kind little caresses. "Look at me… please…"

"I can see you." He offered lamely.

"But you are not looking at me, miri ves'tacha."

He was astonished – at least partially – when she reached up and pressed her hand to his unmasked face. This was an action she had performed before… but not like this. The touch was usually brief; as though she appreciated how he now went about the house unmasked to make her happy, and wanted him to know. It was still taking a lot of getting used to. He couldn't help but flinch when he saw her looking at him… or when her gentle hand caressed him even for the briefest second. He was so used to pain that every muscle in his body expected her touch to hurt. As usual, though, this touch was nothing he needed to have feared. It was only more inexorable, and she tried to press his face around until he looked into her eyes.

The tenderness in her caramel eyes made him tremble slightly in shock. It always did.

"Miri kom…" she murmured gently. "You desire your wife. There is nothing disgusting or indecent about that. I knew over thirty years ago you wanted me… But back then your desire was undefined… you knew that making love was an activity husbands and wives shared. You may have even had a vague idea of what it meant. But you knew absolutely none of the specifics – not even in theory. Your want was more of an innocent urge."

"Now I am a disgusting old corpse of a man that knows far too much theory." Erik grumbled. "You must know I would never ask you to do anything-"

"-I don't want to hold my wish hostage anymore." She interrupted his self-deprecation quickly. The subject felt as though it had swerved so hard and fast off course that it left him off balance and he could only stare mutely at her.

Arabella smiled, reaching up so that suddenly she was framing his face in her gentle hands. He almost pulled back … but again found he couldn't deny himself the exquisite sensation of her skin brushing his. No one had ever touched him like that.

"Do you trust me, Erik?" she asked.

"I – Bella – what –"

"-It is a simple question, Erik. Do you trust me?"

"I…" Erik took in a shaking breath. "Yes… absolutely."

"Then close your eyes."

Sighing, he nodded briefly and did as his beautiful gypsy princess requested. He absolutely despised how vulnerable keeping his eyes closed made him … but he had to trust Arabella. If he could not trust her, of all people, who'd watched him for over thirty years and still stood by him lovingly today… then no trust existed in the world.

It began with her hands moving. They slide down and slowly turned over; as if afraid to lift completely so he would not be startled when her fingertips returned. He felt her gently brush all our fingertips over almost every inch of his face. The pads of her thumbs were more determined and firm – smoothing over his ruined skin and his hard-earned scars. It felt as though she were the one with her eyes closed – or blinded - and was trying to memorize him with her hands. And she was so gentle! It was almost impossible to be wary when her touch was turning him into an emotional puddle. He was so overwhelmed that he was sure his body in and of itself would soon turn to putty for her.

"H-how can you?" he choked out. "How can you stand to even look at me like you do… never mind touch me this way? How is it I don't disgust you?"

"Why would I be concerned with what you look like?" Arabella murmured curiously. "After all the harm I have seen men with handsome or even plain faces do… I find no reason to trust in the beauty of faces. Oh, I'm sure I would still love you if you were the new Adonis… but… I do not look at what you seem to be, Erik. I see you."

He shook his head in amazement, but only slightly.

"I love you."

There was a long pause. Her hands grew still on his face and he worried he'd frightened or offended her. Finally being faced with such stark words… she was probably thinking what a mistake it had been to touch him. In a moment she would laugh at him, or scream, or pull away. He felt his body starting to quiver again and start to pull away.

Before he could, however, her hands again cupped his cheeks between them and abruptly something soft as satin and tasting slightly of wine and cheese pressed against his mouth. Erik gasped, shoulders hunching as his eyes flew open and his hands lifted to catch Arabella by the shoulders and push her away.

Then he saw Arabella so close that it was difficult to make out her closed eyelids and the long black lashes that threatened to scrape his corneas. He'd never been so close to her! She was so close that her nose threatened to slip into the opening where his nose ought to have been! Erik grew still again, this time from amazement. His grip on her shoulders changes so that his hands slid down her arms towards her elbows, and Arabella took it as an open invitation to wrap her arms around his neck.

A kiss…

He was kissing his wife… and she was holding him… and…

Erik's knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor as a sob of astounded joy broke from his lips. It broke the kiss. It broke his contact with her – except for the fact that his head was so close to her stomach that it almost touched it, and his hands had slid down from her upper arms to gently circle her wrists.

"Erik…"

He stared at Arabella as she sank down to her own knees. He watched, dumbfounded, as she again wrapped her arms around him and leaned in for yet another kiss. Because his lip was hanging open, this time their kiss was far more passionate… and Arabella didn't seem even remotely disturbed by it! He could taste her! Not just the remnants of their shared lunch earlier that day, but her! Their lips slid together intimately, and his entire body jolted when he felt a gentle prodding from her tongue.

"God – Bella!" he begged, although he tried not to break the kiss. His entire body responded instantly with a rush of need and love.

Arabella was the one to break their kiss… only to brush her mouth over his face just as her hands had done. He was certain she didn't mean to arouse him. He was certain that if he tried to touch her again that she would pull back and demand to know what he thought he was doing. But this gift was greater than any kiss he'd ever imagined receiving! This had not been like Christine's kiss of affection and pity … if indeed there had ever been any affection at all in that kiss. This had been the kiss of a lover!

"Thank you…" he whispered, still crying helplessly and daring to reach out tentative hands so that they found her waist and tried to urge her a little closer. He didn't want to trap her in his arms… but he needed to hold her … to be nearer to her.

"Thank you." She replied, finally pulling back. Erik opened his eyes completely so that he could gaze at her. "That was my first kiss… I have never kissed anyone before. Not on my own accord."

"You-"Erik gaped. He didn't think that he could look any more foolish … but he kept feeling the shock wash over him. "You? But you're so …"

"So used, Erik." She sighed. "Remember?"

Her arms slowly began to slip from his shoulders, and Erik found himself drawing her even closer so that his own arms went down around her waist.

"Not used!" he nearly snapped. "You are not used! You were abused, mira kom!"

Arabella smiled as though she thought he was only indulging her.

"Can I tell you what I want for my prize now?"

"Of course!"

He stared at her … wondering just how he was supposed to give her anything like what she had just given him.

"I want you to kiss and touch me as I just touched and kissed you." She murmured, her face not flushing with color because the kissing had already given her high color. "Erik…I…"

She wanted more?

His blood absolutely raced in his veins and arteries. He wanted more!

"Is that all?" he croaked.

"No…" Arabella suddenly lowered her eyelashes shyly. But they didn't stay that way for long. In only a moment she met his gaze evenly … and the depth of emotion there made him almost fall into her so that he could grant the first half of her wish.

"Then what?"

"I want the wedding night you promised me I could demand of you once I was ready… and healed."

Erik froze. Simply… froze. He couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could not even breathe.

He had never imagined that he could ever have such a night. When he was young and not so hardened, he'd dreamed of a wedding night with Arabella. He'd hoped that maybe she could grow to love him enough … to be desensitized enough to his hideous face and body… that she would one night allow him to make love to her. He'd dreamed that she could overcome her aversion to being touched and kissed… that her trauma would fade and they could be a normally married couple.

But that had been over thirty years ago! In the intervening years, he'd grown to accept that he was simply too ugly for any woman to desire or endure.

"You … would… do that for me?" he finally forced himself to say. His voice was barely even a breath of sound.

"No." Arabella admitted. And for just a second his heart plummeted into his stomach. It would have sunk lower than even that, but she was smiling. It bolstered him slightly. "I will do that for both of us… for me. I want to be with you… to have a normal marriage with you."
He gaped at her for what felt like endless years.

A real marriage? A real marriage with a real and living wife? Why is she not disgusted by me? How can she …

But he shook the thoughts away.

He wanted Arabella. At her request to have a wedding night, his entire body had come alive in a way that made earlier stirrings seem positively lazy. There was no denying he wanted her. He loved her.

But she had been through so much with her father and Adnah…

Adnah… who had been haunting them since her return.

"What about our uninvited guest?" he croaked. "I would not … we could not possibly … he would…"

"Adnah?"

She looked as though this was the first time she'd thought of him in days. And maybe she hadn't. She certainly hadn't mentioned him annoying her lately. Not since the night of the ice.

"He… he's not here." She said quietly. "I have not heard him since … since the Bois. I think he said he would leave me alone for a week if I listened to him – well, to both of you, really. He was trying to get me to fight my way to the shore. He was constantly yelling in my ear, trying to irritate me into action… It … it worked. I suppose he must be keeping his word because I haven't heard him at all since then. Not even later that night."

"And… and you…"

Slowly – trembling – Erik reached up to cup her face in his hands just as she had done with him earlier. He gently smoothed his thumbs back and forth across her cheekbones.

"You want this? Truly?"

Her eyes filled with a slight sheen of tears, and he nearly yanked back.

God … had he managed to hurt her already? Was he such a monster that he didn't even know how to be tender?

But when he tried to pull back she seized his wrists and held him there.
"More than anything." She admitted with a smile. "I … I am afraid. Of course I am. I have only ever known pain. But … I want you to teach me that there is more. We could have lost each other again when I went through that ice, Erik. I don't want to waste our chance anymore…"

"It wouldn't be a waste, Bella! You're here! You love me! That is enough for me!"

"But not for me…"

"How can I possibly… I only know what to do in theory! What if I-"

"I know." She insisted. "I know the actual actions, at least. I will help you … if you help me. Love me Erik… please… as a husband loves a wife…"

Uncertainly, his breath coming in short fast pants that were almost soundless, he leaned forward to kiss her temple. He didn't want to kiss the center of her forehead. That would feel too much like reliving his kiss with Christine all over again. And Arabella was not Christine. She deserved better … more … than an echo of something else. And he left his lips there, waiting to see what would happen. And when nothing did – absolutely nothing – he trailed his lips to her other temple, then slowly to the side of her eye. His hands dropped from her face and he dared to put his arms down around her waist and gently pull her closer.

"I would never hurt you, mira ves'tacha…" he promised fervently.

She didn't fight him. She didn't object. She was utterly pliant – letting him behave how and when he chose. It seemed to take forever before he could dare touch her mouth with his again. But when he tried to kiss her tenderly, she responded with a desperate hunger he had never suspected of her. Not even when she'd been kissing him moments before. It took his breath away – again and again – and his arms moved. His hands moved. His actions were careful and uncertain – terrified of disgusting her or scaring her away – but eventually his hands held firmly to the tops of her hips, and his fingertips were resting on the swell of her rear. She was pressing closer to him in a way that threatened to bring their stomachs and pelvic bones together. Her arms snaked around him, holding on tight.

Then she retrieved one hand long enough to take his wrist, and push his hand gently down towards the stays of her blouse.

"Please…?"

"Wait…" he whispered. Although they had not done very much at all… he already felt overwhelmed. He felt like the tiniest thing might send him over an edge of greed … of lust so strong that he would absolutely devour her.

After over fifty years on this earth as a virgin … was it any surprise he was already on the threshold of becoming out of control?
But he wanted to make this special for them both. He wanted this to be about their love and not his disgusting carnal fantasies.

"Not here…" he clarified as he slowly stood and pulled her up by the hands. "Not on the floor of our parlor…"

Our. He'd called it 'our parlor'. Not 'my' parlor… "Our'…

He turned and motioned vaguely towards the Louise-Phillippe room.

"If you mean this, ma belle… You may be my beauty … but I will not take you like a beast…"

Arabella lay on her side facing Erik. He had shakily helped her with the stays of her dress, so that she could slip out of it. He'd even removed his vest and undone the wrist buttons of his sleeve. His shoes were on the floor, and he was resting beside her on the bed with one hand constantly stroking her cheek. She was trembling, her heart racing. The longer it took for Erik to work up the courage to kiss her again, the more nervous she felt.

She had felt so bold out in the parlor. She had known exactly what she wanted. She still wanted it.

Everything about Erik was attractive to her. Everything other than his face, that was… although; in her own way, she found even his deformity strangely beautiful. It wasn't that how he looked aroused her. That came from the sound of his voice murmuring his endearments. It came from how his fingers danced over the fingerboard of his violin… how he lounged on a sofa or chair while reading. It was in the size of his immeasurable heart – which had been twisted and bruised for so many years he didn't seem to realize just how large it truly was. It was in his patience and compassion for 'lesser creatures'… the way his eyes lit up when he looked at her. It was how he stared at her when she danced.

He never seemed to understand that she could look at him and never see a single flaw simply because she was too busy noticing everything else about him.

She desperately wanted him to see her the same way.

"Are you certain you want this?"

"Yes…"

"You'll tell me if I … go too fast? If I frighten you or hurt you?"

"I promise." She insisted.

For another long minute, Erik stroked along her cheek, eventually working his way down to her neck. Arabella closed her eyes and tilted her head away to give him better access to the column of her throat. It was interesting just how intense the sensation of his skin touching her there was. Her entire body clenched in appreciation and demanded more.

"Tell me … what to … how to…" Erik pleaded. "I don't even know where to begin."

Arabella opened her eyes and reached up, not wanting to take his hand from her throat but not able to move his other hand because he was propped up on that elbow. Gently and slowly she dragged his arm so that his fingers never quite left her. They burned a trail over the thin slip she was wearing – the only clothing she had left on after deciding too many clothes for Erik to remove would be too nerve-wracking for both of them - down over the top of the swell of her breast, lightly skimming a nipple in an accidental way that made her gasp briefly and arch her body towards him.

"Wait…" Erik resisted any further pulling, just before he'd have had to leave the softness of her breast behind. He wasn't even really touching it yet, in all honesty. His fingers were curled inward in a very loose paw, and the backs of them were what played over her. His pupils had dilated and she could hear the huskiness of his breathing change the tone of his voice. "I've never … touched… I… May I?"

Arabella released his wrist, and let her hand lay along the side of his body. She tilted her shoulder back just slightly so he could see slightly better in the gaslight of the lamp behind her.

"Yes." She invited, her own voice strained.

She watched excitedly as Erik brushed his knuckles lightly over the curves of her breast again, before rotating his wrist so that the pads of his fingers lightly touched the nub that had turned noticeably stiff even through the fabric of her underclothes. They were both trembling badly now – at just this tiny touch.

Arabella whimpered softly, biting hard on her lower lip. Erik's eyes jerked up from her chest to warily look into her eyes.

"Are you all right? Did I do something-"

"-I'm fine." She told him quickly. "It feels so nice Erik… So nice…"

"Oh…"

He seemed awed as he looked back down to his uncertain administrations and put a little more pressure against her tip, before letting thumb and finger slip to either side. He didn't squeeze or pinch or twist. He just held it firmly… and then dared to cup the entirety of her rather generous flesh in his palm. He kept glancing up at her again, watching her reaction and hearing the tiny noises she made. Slowly, as he massaged, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers again.

By the time he was done kissing her, he was lying half on top of her and pressing against her almost helplessly.

"I am never going to make it through the night." He bemoaned as he ducked his head, his breath fanning over her chin and throat.

"Oh!"

"What? What is it?" He panted worriedly.

Arabella reached up, tracing over his mouth with her fingertips and then touching her neck. Erik's eyes widened, but tilted his head in curiosity as though he still didn't quite dare understand.

"Will you kiss me … here?" she asked uncertainly. Her skin felt on fire… and she'd never have thought about a man nuzzling or kissing her throat. It seemed a ridiculous place to feel any desire to be touched … but she very much wanted him to do it now! She felt slightly ashamed of herself, but she could not deny what her body asked for. Not when she'd spent years assuming she would never want anything even remotely like this for herself.

Erik slowly obeyed… and at her over-excited reaction became almost instantly emboldened and began to suckle there just as he'd done to her lips out in the parlor. She didn't know if he'd even been aware of what he was doing – but it was exactly what had prompted her to brush her tongue against his lips. It had just felt like the right thing to do – and he'd certainly seemed to appreciate it

Heat filled her. A molten heat that seemed heavy and devouring as it swept through her blood. She was still very nervous, still a little terrified that somehow this would hurt no matter how gentle Erik was. But the other sensations coursing through her were beginning to override that. Especially as Erik moved his hand from her breast, up to her shoulder, and tried to slip the strap of her slip down her arm. The cool air of the flat hit her overheated skin and made her shiver in delight.

"Bella I… I want… to… "He whispered, but still seemed much too shy to confess his desires. He was like a boy, really. It endeared her to him even further. It made her feel safer, somehow.

"Yes." Was the only answer she could give him.

The material of her slip was brought down even further, and then his mouth was blazing the same trail as his hand had earlier…

Only for one moment was she afraid that their wedding night was going to come to a screeching halt. It had been when Erik loomed over her, glorious in his nudity and pressing against her with arms on either side of her head as he supported his weight to keep a majority of it off of her. Her brain had flashed to another place and time, and her hands had seized him in a grip so tight that her fingernails bit into his flesh.

"What's wrong" he demanded instantly, growing stone still and nearly drawing away.

All Arabella could do was shake her head. She couldn't even form the right words to explain herself. With a groan that he tried to suppress, Erik had rolled off of her and pulled her into his arms. But the very moment he no longer loomed over her, Arabella broke free of her fear and kissed him. She kissed him long, deep, and hard. Her body pressed to his hungrily, and Erik couldn't help but cling to her in return. He pulled her so hard against him – without being truly forceful, or hurting her in the least – he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. He was only trying to be a comfort to her… but the new position gave her a new sense of safety and reassurance she had never known existed.

And they had again become lost in each other's kisses, caresses, and bodies.

Later Arabella had lain on him, stroking his chest and enjoying the feel of his fingers combing through her tousled hair. Neither could really move. They were too tired, too satisfied. Erik seemed to be dozing, and Arabella was simply afraid that if she moved she would lose the feeling of intense connection they were sharing.

"I love you…" she breathed. She was amused at how stunned her voice seemed to be – as though she couldn't quite believe what had happened. "More than anything, I love you."

Erik murmured wordlessly, his hand moving from her hair to her cheek. Beneath her, his body stiffened when his thumb came away shining with moisture.

"Bella – are you crying?" He sounded horrified, and tried to sit up from beneath her. "Did I hurt you?"

"No!" She grabbed his shoulders and tried to hold him still. "No! These… they …"

"Bella – what's wrong?" he pleaded.

Slowly she lifted her head from his chest and smiled at him.

"After all the years I have spent hating myself for not being able to kiss you on the day I died… I tried to, Erik, honestly I did… I can finally forgive myself… I am happy, Erik. Christine might have given you your first kiss… but I have you your first kiss out of love. I gave you my love… in all the ways I always knew you deserved."

Sighing, Erik slowly allowed his body to relax again.

"You … you worried me."

"I'm sorry."

There was a long moment of silence, and then suddenly his arms were around her and he pulled her into a hug that allowed him to nuzzle his face into her hair and neck. His hands stroked her back. Every nerve ending was still alive as she tried to embrace him in return – although she didn't want to pin her arms beneath him so it was more difficult. She settled for laying her forearms along the outside of his biceps, and clutching to his shoulders.

"Gestena, mira vest'acha rani."

Gestena, miria ves'tacha rani: (Romani) Thank you my beloved lady