If you're reading my other stories skip the A/N. Sorry about the long delay. Should have another chapter done soon. And I mean soon.

A/N: My long-awaited Viking erotica is finally available. Check out my profile for details. If you like my writing style I'm sure you'll really enjoy both Heart of the Bear, and Dreamwalker, the two titles I have in the anthology.

Rose35

Bouquet nearly knocked the Vicomte to the floor as he rounded the corner.

"Where are you heading in such a hurry, you smelly little monkey?" the Vicomte asked as he pinched his nose closed.

"I am going down."

Meg walked up and wrapped her arm around the Vicomte. "On who?"

"Excuse me?" the stagehand questioned.

Raoul pushed Meg aside. "Never mind. Meg, go into your room and wait for me."

"Oh!" She bounced up and down. "I've been naughty again without even trying! Hurry along, precious little weasel. I have the paddle ready."

The Vicomte took Bouquet by the arm and led him down the hall. "Where are you going?"

"On a very important mission."

"What sort of mission?"

With a sigh, Bouquet checked the hall to make certain they were alone. "There has been another note."

"Good God."

"Yes, good God indeed."

"From whom?"

Bouquet stared at him blankly. "Who the hell do you think?"

"There are at least five hundred people in here, all perfectly capable of writing."

"The Phantom, you imbecile."

"What did he say?" Raoul inquired, gravely concerned.

"He said he would like to challenge you to a duel. In the graveyard. At noon."

"It's a quarter 'til noon."

"Noon-thirty," Bouquet corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"You should go. Go now, and leave me alone."

"Right." Raoul snapped his fingers. "Swords or pistols?"

"Oh, for God's sake bring both."

Raoul waited until Bouquet was gone before he dashed down the hall in the opposite direction and tore off his cravat. Tossing it to the floor, he pushed his sleeves up and proceeded to run down the stairs, yelling to Chrisine that he had an urgent message.

-o-

Christine walked toward the organ and held her hands up. Making a square with her thumbs and index fingers, she squinted and gave a grunt.

"Perfect."

Erik glanced up from his composing but didn't say a word. He'd remained silent for almost a half hour.

Turning on her heel, she marched toward the other side of the organ and proceeded to do the same thing. "Mmmhmm. Perfect."

Again Erik glanced up. He furiously scribbled on the paper at hand and dropped it onto a pile of other papers.

Annoyed that he ignored her, she twirled her hair around her finger and began to hum to herself.

"It will be absolutely lovely. Pink, pink, and more pink."

"Excuse me?" Erik grumbled.

"Oh, carry on with your work and never mind me."

He stared at her, his lips forming a straight line. With a sigh he gathered his paperwork and proceeded to walk into the bedroom, which Christine hadn't planned on him doing. Gathering her skirts, she ran after him.

"Don't go in there! I must visualize decorating the most important room in the whole…" Dreadful, dark, dank and fire-prone basement. "The whole house."

"Decorate?" He seemed surprised but somewhat pleased.

"It's only natural that I, as the woman, would decorate."

"What's wrong with the décor?"

"Oh, hell," she said under her breath.

"What's wrong with the décor?"

"Is there décor?" she questioned innocently.

Several papers fell to the floor, which he ignored. "It says…artistic."

"It says pigsty," she grumbled.

"Pardon me?" he growled.

Even though she loved it when he growled, this didn't sound like a growl of love. It sounded more like a growl of anger. She carefully retracted her words.

"It could use a bit of tidying up and…well, feminine charm."

"It could use a bit of tidying up," he confirmed.

"And feminine charm," she said firmly. "After all, I am feminine and I have…" She leaned over ever so slightly and traced her neckline with her fingers. "Charm."

He shifted his weight. "Charm," he said under his breath.

No wonder Meg received whatever she desired, Christine thought to herself. She was overflowing with charm.

"I was thinking about curtains," Christine said before Erik lost his train of thought.

"Curtains? I have curtains."

"Well, yes…for the walls. But I was thinking about curtains for windows."

His jaw twitched. This was worse than pulling teeth.

"There are no windows."

"Ah, yes, I had noticed that. It was starting to…bother me."

"Bother you?"

"Depress me?" she tried again.

"You are depressed?"

Aha! A weakness. Christine frowned and batted her eyes. "Why, just this afternoon I was thinking about banging my head against the wall."

"That's completely asinine."

"Well, thank you," she replied dryly. She folded her arms and turned away. "I will go on decorating without another compliment from you."

She started to turn away when she heard screaming. Male screaming. High-pitched, terrified male screaming.

"Raoul," she said under her breath.

"Is there a cat in heat?"

"No, I believe it's a Vicomte in trouble." She scrambled to the door with Erik on her heels. Once they reached the hall they heard splashing.

"What in the—"

"Trap door," Erik answered.

Christine rolled her eyes. "Really, do you need trap doors all over the place?"

"To keep out unwanted vermin? Yes."

Erik reached the trap door first and held his arm out, keeping Christine at bay.

"Is he…dead?" she asked when she didn't hear him splashing about.

"No, I think I'll be fine!" Raoul shouted.

Christine stepped forward but Erik kept her back. "It's ghastly," he said. "Stay where you are."

"Is he hurt?"

"No."

"Then what is wrong?"

"He's…unclothed."

To this news Christine perked up. "Oh…really?"

"Christine!" Erik snapped. "Gather all of the towels you can find and hurry."

"All of the towels?" she questioned.

"Indeed. He's that naked."

With a shrug she turned away and headed back into the lakeside apartments. She heard Erik asking Raoul what he was doing in the basement and paused to eavesdrop.

"I came to answer your letter and your offer to a duel!"

"Duel? I beg your pardon?"

Christine paused with her back to the wall and continued to listen. Brow furrowed, she wondered why Raoul would say such things.

"The note! Bouquet found it just today."

"I never sent a note and I never challenged you to a duel."

"Yes, I assumed you hadn't. After all, I doubt you had a proper education which included proper swordfighting techniques, eh, old fellow? And, well, Bouquet is a smelly, rat-faced liar."

"What else did the note say?"

"I have no idea. Now please, help me out of the water. It's freezing and I fear my hair will turn green."