A/N: Thank you Fantomphan33 & Erik'sTrueAngel for reviewing and editing.

By morning, the tempest had expended itself and moved on, leaving the ocean a seething mess of seaweed and debris. Christine walked along the beach, looking around and inspecting the area. The seaside looked like the aftermath of a bloody battle, with planks of wood scattered along the beach, wreckage dotting the coast. The storm had been more brutal than her original expectation of it being simply a delightful rain. But at last, the storm was over, and the sun had risen again.

Christine's bare toes curled in the wet sand, and she could feel the soft silt of the newly tossed ocean floor cast upon the isle's beach. With a quick intake of breath, she caught herself just before stepping on the gelatinous blob of a jellyfish. The creature was still alive, and it weakly moved, urging Christine to try and save it. Using a piece of bark, she scooped it up, along with some sand, and carefully returned it to the sea.

The warning cry of seagulls caught her attention as she straightened up, watching as a flock of white birds flew above and agilely landed on the beach many lengths ahead of her. Cautiously exiting the rippling waves, she followed the birds, with one of her feet accidentally bumping against a log that had not been there before. It appeared freshly burnt, probably struck by lightning in the storm, for the fallen tree still housed some remaining heat that simmered deep within its core.

A breeze softly blew past her, seeming to dance around the beautiful maiden and swaying her wavy hair in its whirling force. She stood facing the sea with her eyes shut, the smell of sea salt, the warmth of sunlight and the sound of crashing waves were the indications that signified that everything was back to normal. On this island, Christine felt so connected to everything on it. This was her home, her family, and she would never exchange her precious island for anything.

The seagulls cried again, and Christine frowned, feeling as if they were attempting to alert her to the fact that something was amiss. She stepped over the log and walked slowly forward, seeking the cause of their disturbance. That's when she spotted him… someone lying on the beach not far away from where she stood. Perhaps, he was a survivor from some violent shipwreck last night. Was he still alive? A thousand questions suddenly appeared in her mind, and she felt uncertain, not at all knowing how to proceed.

xxx

Erik lay sprawled on the beach, his body trembling with fatigue and shivering with cold, while his chest blazed with pain. His fingertips were blue where they were wound around the barrel's bindings and he had no sensation in his toes, but the feel of the earth beneath his back was incredibly marvelous. He stared triumphantly at the sky, reveling in his success against the storm. No man, or beast, or even God could beat him!

He slowly uncurled his fingers from the barrel and flexed them, forcing the blood to rush through his hands once more. Then he touched his face, checking for his mask. To his great surprise, it was still attached, as if it had miraculously become one with his facial features. The burn on his chest was excruciatingly painful; however, but Erik chose to ignore it as he used the last of his strength to rise slowly to his feet.

But God, his wounds hurt! So much in fact that he stumbled back, falling onto the ground once more. For the first time in his life, Erik felt helpless, hating the fact that he might in need of someone to help him. His body was completely drained of energy from last night's exertion, but who would help him on this unknown island? And more important, where was he?

After several audible sighs, Erik glanced around, taking note of his surroundings. He was lying on a seashore within a cove, with high rugged cliffs surrounding him on all sides. Erik could tell that even a strong, healthy person would have a hard time climbing the colossal rocks, not to mention one in his current condition. Suddenly, a strong wave of despair washed over Erik, his mind flooding with thoughts of hopelessness. Why should he struggle? Why hadn't God just let him die? What did he honestly have to live for?

Ironically, just a few moments ago when Erik first opened his eyes, he had smiled victoriously, defiantly claiming that nothing God would do could inflict harm on him. All his fellow shipmates were dead, swallowed by the hungry sea, leaving him the sole survivor. Even though his crew had been sailing the sea under his command for quite a while, Erik did not feel a twinge of remorse for their fates. His heart was cold and indifferent, for that had been the way his unloving father had taught him to be. Claiming that only the strong deserved to live, and that was the way of life.

Now as Erik lay there on a presumably deserted island, he felt pathetic. Fatigue gradually conquered his body, and his eyes eventually shut, as his mind became drowsy. No! He thought to himself. Weakness will not overtake me! With all his might, Erik desperately tried to stay awake, but he could feel his traitorous body was too far gone to obey his mental order.

Suddenly, a sound from up the beach incited Erik to wearily open his eyes. Through his half-opened lids, he caught a glimpse of a maiden - or perhaps an angel - descending from heaven. As she approached him, the vibrant sunlight caused her wavy, mahogany hair to glow with a sheen of auburn - so gorgeous and stunning. In his entire life, Erik had never seen such a fiery beauty like her. He blinked, was he dreaming? Perhaps she was Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty, who had heard his silent cry and came to rescue him. She was so tall, slender, and ethereal and composed, that she couldn't be real.

As his eyes roamed over her, he saw that the angel wore a white shirt, which exposed her bare shoulders and the top area of her ample bosom. The sleeves were tight at her elbows but flared toward the end, and her white skirt began an inch below her shirt, revealing her tiny, flattering abdomen. Her skirt flowed longer in the back, though it never touched her ankles, and shorter in the front, landing slightly above her knees. This kind of attire would be considered provocative and unsuitable by the people of his society, but regardless of all that, Erik thought the woman looked very charming and full of innocence.

Who was she? Erik quietly asked himself. His head screamed in pain and his muscles quivered with fatigue as black spots danced around his vision. He tried to clear them by shaking his head for he did not want to lose sight of her, fearing that she might disappear and abandon him. But despite his powerful force of will, the black spots spread out, and he sunk into unconsciousness.

As Christine walked toward the man lying on the sand, she heard him groan, his eyes shut and his breaths deep and raspy. She suddenly paused in hesitation, for this was the first time she had ever met a stranger outside her family. Still, the man was wounded, and he seemed to be in dire need of aid. Determination took over, compelling her to stride forward, for the man needed assistance and she could not in good conscience just stand there and watch his life drift away.

She knelt down next to the poor victim and inspected him. He did not look old, nor did he appear overly young. Thus far, the only man Christine had ever seen in her young life was Arid, her adopted father. But Arid had always looked much older, with a skinnier body compared to the muscular man lying in front of her. As curiosity took over, Christine gently touched his face, puzzled by the fact that he wore a black mask. Why did he feel the need to conceal his face? She thought to herself as her hand reached out to remove several strands of hair that had fallen across his forehead. She felt a sudden desire to unmask him, to find out what lay behind the black covering, but then she stopped. No, that was not right. Still, she allowed her hands to follow another urge, as they traveled down his body, feeling the contours of his rock-hard muscle. He had arms that were three times the size of hers, and easily five times stronger. Finally, one of her hands stopped on the waistband of his clothing, hesitating momentarily before she innocently brushed against the noticeable bulge between his thighs. Christine paused, feeling intrigued, yet allowed her hand to continue its exploration down his thigh and leg, all the while watching for signs that the unconscious man might awake. Suddenly….

Erik stirred, groggy but keenly aware of the sensation of light touches sweeping over him. Despite the harrowing night he had just experienced, he was immediately aroused, and slowly forced his eyes open, eager to learn who was touching him. Yet, he was shocked to discover it was the woman, the goddess, he had seen now hovering over him, her sensual fingers doing things to him no mortal woman had a right to. Without thinking, he grabbed her wandering hand, pulling her down to the ground as his body rolled over hers, tucking her easily underneath him. He leaned down, unable to stop himself and will the full intent of kissing her, when a blast of pain erupted in his head.

"What the…?" He gasped, as the woman reached up and slapped him a second time, struggling to get out from under his grasp. "Stop that!" he commanded, trying to clear his mind. The ache in his groin warred with the pounding in his temples, as well as the pain in his chest.

"Get off!" she screamed. With a hearty kick, she shoved his weight off her body and scrambled to her feet. "What are you doing? Who are you?" she shouted.

Erik blinked and shook his head, then looked up at the woman towering above him, her hair was disheveled, and her eyes stared at him in terror. "My name is Erik, and may I point out that you were the one touching me. I only accepted your rather blatant invitation."

Christine was stunned to hear the man speak in her own language. "What are you doing here?"

Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, he motioned to the pieces of debris that littered the coastline. "Is the reason not clear? Can you not see that my ship lies in broken bits all around us? It sank in the storm, and the rest of the crew was lost, but by the grace of my own fortitude, I find myself on this isle in one piece."

Christine turned away, not wanting to look at the stranger. Her mother had told her that there were other people that roamed the seas. And sometimes while at the beach, she saw their ships, with white sails and sloping hulls, silently passing by. Christine's mother had informed her that she had come from a faraway land across the sea as well, born to a family that had cast her adrift due for some unknown reasons. She also mentioned how cruel people out there could be, and that they considered islanders such as Christine and her mother as wild and barbaric.

"Go away! You cannot stay here," Christine's tone was commanding. Indeed, she had no desire to interact with the outside world.

Erik responded, sarcasm filling his tone. "Well, if you could produce a boat this instant, I would gladly disappear right away." Then his voice became softer, infused with honesty and desperation. "Yet I have no ship. I am shipwrecked, injured, and stranded. For all that, I would expect a touch of courtesy, or at the very least, some bandages and a bowl of warm soup."

Christine looked up at him, feeling a great sympathy for the young man. Erik also came from across the sea, like her. He was wounded, thus he was in need of care. She thought of the jellyfish she had just rescued from certain death and aided back into the sea, and yet here she hesitated to offer him even a moment's concern. It was not right of her to deny him aid simply because he was the wrong species. Both man and animal were all Providence's creations, and she must show mercy.

"I am sorry for the way I reacted to you earlier," Christine said with true remorse in her voice. "I will offer assistance until your people come for you. They will come for you, won't they?" she asked with sudden trepidation.

"They will come, or I will go after them and make them regret having left me behind," Erik said grimly as he glanced out over the calm water.

Christine nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Then come, follow me." She immediately walked away, leaving him to scramble to his feet unassisted.

Erik glared at her back, irritated by her cavalier attitude. "If you think you can dismiss me so easily," he grumbled under his breath, "think again." He then tried to stand up in order to follow her, but found himself unable to force his tired legs to move. When she was at least twenty feet ahead of him, he shouted after her. "Miss! Miss! Is this what you call offering assistance? Have a care that I am quite exhausted!" He leaned against a tree nearby, holding his balance. "If this is an example of your hospitality, I suspect you next give me a pile of bitter leaves to eat and then ignore me," he complained rather loudly.

The maiden appeared to ignore his insult, and instead gave a long whistle. The sudden thunder of hooves interrupted Erik's thoughts, causing him to glance up in alarm as he beheld a herd of horses racing across the top of the cliff. In the lead was a dark brown mare, followed closely by a pristine white stallion. Neighing, the stallion skidded to a stop, then wheeled and reared in the air. The other horses slowed, then turned in unison, heading in the other direction. The stallion came down on all fours and stood staring down the cliff at Christine.

Suddenly, the stallion leaped forward. He galloped down the cliff on a narrow path that zigzagged until ending at the beach, racing toward Christine without slowing. Erik moved to where he could see him, amazed at his agility and strength. "Incredible," Erik whispered. "He is more magnificent than any beast I have seen in France. An untamed stallion…" Erik looked the beast over, noting his heavy musculature and intelligent eyes. "You would be worth a fortune."

Christine appeared beside the stallion and the beast wheeled to face her. He swished his tail, then lifted it high in the air as he arched his neck. Erik watched in surprise as Christine approached the wild horse with steady speed. She gripped his rippling mane, and swung aboard with lithe grace.

Erik stumbled back, blinking, as his mouth dropped open and he held his breath. She was so beautiful, his unknown angel, and the two were so beautiful together. Her long legs were wrapped around the stallion's broad girth, and her proud chin was tilted at the same angle as the equine's jaw. Erik had never seen anything so absolutely perfect. He felt his soul shudder, incapable of comprehending anything so clearly beyond his experience.

Swaying, he widened his eyes, trying to focus. Suddenly the horse seemed to be moving and the girl riding him was talking, but he could not understand her. Her voice echoed oddly, as if it was coming from underwater. Erik fell to his knees, fighting the dizzying sensation and the increasing loss of control. The horse brushed against him, providing a bit of ballast, allowing Erik to look up, attempting to see into the deep blue eyes of the maiden who tilted her head down towards him. Her eyes saw through him, not looking at him, but into him. He tried to pull away, but his overwhelming weakness made it impossible to escape her penetrating gaze.

As black spots flickered in his vision, her muddled voice came to him again. She seemed to frown, then reached down. Erik clasped her hands, finding himself eager to feel her palms. They were callused in spots, yet soft like a woman ought to be, but strong enough to be pulling him up astride the magnificent stallion behind her. He struggled to find his balance, yet when he did at last, he found himself completely out of strength, and losing all sensation he felt his world go black once again.

Christine grimaced as Erik's full weight collapsed against her back. "Oaf," she grunted. "You could have at least remained conscious until we reached the highland meadow! Now I will have to support you all the way up." Here she reached back and took his hands, bringing them forward round her and holding them tightly at her waist with one of her own. "However, if you fall off, I swear that I will leave you wherever you land!" she warned him as she nudged the stallion back to the zigzag path. "Walk steady Claudius," she whispered to the stallion. "Walk steady…"

The pair managed to reach the top, and Christine shifted to accommodate Erik's bulk as they headed toward the cottage. The herd of curious horses appeared and several trotted up, while a few hung back, distrustful of Erik's foreign scent. Christine smiled and touched the muzzles that butted against her, murmuring to the beasts. Within minutes, they reached the cottage and Christine listened for the sounds of her mother.

"Mother?" she called out. "Mother?"

"What?" the elderly woman responded irritably. "I am washing the blankets. They are musty from the dampness in the air last night."

"Mother, you must come here. I found something on the beach."

"I care naught for what shell or piece of wood you've brought now, child. Our home is cluttered enough with your treasures."

Christine grinned. "Very well, Mother. If you don't want to see the man I found, I will simply dump him on the ground where I found him in the first place."

Silence greeted her glib answer, and Christine strained to hear her mother's steps. When she still did not see her mother appear, Christine spoke again. "As I said…"

"What is this?" Jameela interrupted, her voice unusually quiet. She stood just around the corner of the cottage, her voice carrying in the still air.

"I found a man, Mother. He was shipwrecked and washed ashore. He is injured, and I was not sure what to do."

"Where is he from? Why is he here? Has he come to take you away?" came Jameela's desperate questions.

Christine heard the fear in her mother's voice, and after shifting the unconscious man from off her back, and carefully laying him across the wither and neck of her stallion, she scrambled down and raced forward. "Mother! Never think that! He is only a lost sailor who accidentally found haven on our isle. He knows nothing of us. We will nurse him to health, then send him on his way."

"I knew this day would come."

"You know nothing!" Christine repeated. "He is nothing!"

Jameela walked toward the stallion that stood patiently with his burden draped across his back. "Perhaps this was meant to be…"

"Ach! Oh Mother. Stop trying to read anything into this happenstance. The man assures me that his shipmates will come looking for him. We only need to offer him food and shelter until then."

"Did you see his face? Why does he wear a mask?" Jameela pointed to the concealed side of Erik's face. "What if he is a pirate and wants to kill us later?"

Christine shook her head. "I highly doubt that was his intention when being marooned here. He seemed to be quite unlike the way you described a pirate should look and behave. Though half of his face is covered, he does not have a hook, a pegged leg, or a captain's hat with the symbol of a skull and two cross bones. And look…I don't see a parrot anywhere around him. We talked, and his name is Erik."

Jameela sighed deeply, and she helped Christine slide him off the horse and drag him into the cottage, laying him down on the nearest bed. "He needs a pair of steady hands to bandage those wounds on his chest. Mine are gnarled and far too shaky from bone-ache after such a storm. You will have to do it, Christine."

Christine brushed her fingers over Erik's face and down his neck, hovering just above his injured chest. As she looked at his wounds, she came to the conclusion that this man was very lucky to be alive after all he had suffered. Her browns drew together with concern. "Sleep well, sailor," she whispered. "Sleep for a while. I will clean and care for you while you rest."

Then, with a nod toward the place where Mother was boiling water, Christine left the cottage to collect the fresh herbs she would need.

xxx

A/N: Hi readers, how did you like Erik & Christine's meeting at the beach? Did you like my portrayal of Christine? Kindly leave me a comment. J

Erik's Love: Thank you for following my story. I can't tell you what will be happening in the story ;-). Ya just gotta find out. Muahz.