§ § § -- June 30, 2001
"You've been through a great deal, child, you and Christian both," Roarke said gently, his voice thankfully clear through Christian's cell phone. "I think the very worst should be over now, but you must understand that Christian's emotions will continue to be muddled for some time yet to come. They may manifest themselves in unusual ways, so try to be prepared for anything. How is he doing now?"
"He's asleep right now," said Leslie, taking comfort from this simple contact with her father. "After the horror he put himself through, especially yesterday, and all those ups and downs during the memorial and the funeral, the castle doctor thought he'd be better off with something to help him sleep, so he gave Christian a mild sedative. So far he's been sleeping peacefully, for the first time in about three days. I thought it would be a good time to give you a call and let you know how things are going…and I have to tell you, it's such a relief to be able to talk to you. I don't remember going through all this when I lost Mom."
"You were younger," Roarke said, "and you internalized your emotions in those days as well. The circumstances are different here, primarily due to Christian's shaky relationship with Arnulf, but I believe he has an excellent chance of recovery in the wake of their long talk Tuesday. Just be at his side, Leslie, and if it is harmless to him and others, indulge him whatever strange whims he may conjure up. Your friends have been around throughout the day, telling me they woke early to watch the memorial this morning, and they all found Christian's eulogy quite moving. They're concerned for you both, of course, but they were glad to see that you two have been moving through the grieving process at a reasonable pace. Have you seen or spoken with Michiko yet?"
"We're supposed to be meeting the prominent leaders who came for the funeral, not just the ones who spoke but the ones who simply showed up," Leslie told him. "That's been scheduled for eleven this morning, as I understand it. I should get the chance to talk to her then. I hate to say this, but I can't wait till Christian's title finally gets revoked. I always think they're talking to someone else whenever someone addresses me as 'princess'…all I can say is, I'm glad nobody's called me 'Your Highness'. That'd be just too surreal. As it is, it's a little unnerving hearing them call Christian that."
Roarke laughed. "I'm sure it is. But you are a princess, albeit temporarily, and from the little I've seen and heard, you've adapted very well. I know there are many petty worries plaguing you in addition to the aftermath of the king's death, but keep in mind that your main job is just to be there for Christian. As you heard in his speech, he is and will continue to be very grateful for that. I am afraid I had better return to work. Take care of him, Leslie, and don't forget to take care of yourself as well."
"I will," Leslie promised. "Thank you, Father, I feel better now."
"Good," Roarke said warmly. "Try to sleep, sweetheart, and give Christian my best as well. Good night."
She replied in kind and broke the connection, drew in a deep breath and stretched. In the wake of her conversation with Roarke, she felt as if her emotional batteries had been recharged, and it gave her the courage to slip back into Christian's old room and climb back into the bed beside her slumbering husband, using the soft illumination from a nightlight that a servant had installed in the bathroom at someone's behest.
From nowhere there was a distinct rumble, and Leslie sighed. Not another thunderstorm, she thought. They had been coming and going all night, ever since the funeral, and with Christian sedated into sleep she figured she would have to endure this one on her own. She watched as Christian slept; for the first time since leaving Fantasy Island, his face bore a peaceful look that broke Leslie's heart. She knew from experience that only time would heal this new wound he bore, and she wished it hadn't had to happen to him. Seeing him in pain was enough to break her own spirit. Sternly she warned herself not to awaken Christian no matter how bad the storm got. She was too old for this kind of silly fear anyway.
Leslie leaned over and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on Christian's lips, then curled up against him, taking his hand in hers. He stirred languidly beside her and sighed, then sank deeper into sleep. It was almost three in the morning and she hadn't slept that much, due to the storms; she began to wish she'd asked for a sedative as well.
She must have dozed off after all, for when a huge boom of thunder shocked her back to full consciousness, Christian was awake and just pushing himself into a seated position. Leslie's startled jerk in the bed drew his excited attention. "It's storming again," he said. "Come with me to the atrium, my Rose—we can watch it from there."
"I wish it were possible for me to be deaf just during thunderstorms," Leslie grumbled, and Christian chuckled and kissed her before jumping eagerly off the bed.
"Hurry," he urged. Unable to refuse him and too nervous to willingly endure his absence anyway, Leslie slid off after him. Christian waited just long enough to make sure she was following him before breaking into an all-out run. Leslie tried to keep up, but his added height and longer strides made this impossible—and he was tearing full-tilt down the corridor as he must have done in his childhood, in a hurry to get there and enjoy the storm.
"Christian, wait!" Leslie cried after him.
He glanced back, called out, "Come on!" and just kept going. She didn't catch up with him till he was shoving down on the handle of the atrium door; his face was alight, making him look very boyish. It awoke some elemental reaction in Leslie and she caught his hand to restrain him, then kissed him. Christian forgot the door and responded with enthusiasm—then a crack of thunder startled them apart. "Come on," he said again and towed her after him around the balcony to the glass walls.
It was an awesome sight, to be sure. The entire sky boiled with angry clouds; lightning illuminated sections of sky here and there, and every so often a forked bolt shot across the heavens. There was so much electricity in the air that the thunder was loud and constant. Christian flattened his palms on the glass and leaned against it, his face a mask of delight. "Isn't it beautiful?" he yelled joyously.
Leslie had other words for it, but she was glad to see him so happy and excited. If only he could stay like this…his emotional ups and downs made her a little afraid for his mental stability, and somehow they seemed to come in extremes. His highs were stratospheric, his lows abysmal. As he stood there laughing with the storm, she stared at him, elated for him and frightened for him all at once.
Christian looked at her and beamed. "Come here and really see it, my darling!" he urged and grabbed her hand, bringing her around and stepping behind her so that she found herself facing the storm head-on while he wrapped his arms around her from the back. His timing was perfect: a huge bolt shot out of the clouds and connected them with the roiling ocean. Leslie gasped and tried to back up, only to press harder against Christian. When the thunder reached them a second or two later, she cranked around in his arms and clung desperately to him. His laughter rang out again, inciting fear in her.
"Christian," she cried.
He focused on her and his features softened. "I'm sorry, my Rose…I truly wanted to share this with you. Oh, don't you see? This is life, my darling—life in its most basic form! Don't be afraid, just look. This place has stood here for nine centuries and I'm sure it will stand for nine more. And I'm here for you, you know that." He laughed again at another explosion of lightning and thunder, and she burrowed into him, shuddering uncontrollably. To her relief, he had enough presence of mind to hug her close in comfort; he seemed to be all right, just startlingly happy. So much for the sedative, she thought with rueful amusement.
"You know, if you do this often enough, you might cure me of my stupid phobia," Leslie remarked, eliciting yet another laugh from Christian.
"I'd love to do that for you," he said, smiling at her. Something changed in his eyes and he traced her lips, his other hand already stroking with clear intent. "Ah, you should only feel what this is doing to me…" He kissed her deeply, simultaneously moving her hand so that she held his intense heat in her palm. She gasped and moaned into his mouth; she'd never known him to be this highly aroused.
"Christian…" she breathed against his lips. He was already moving against her hand, fast losing control, and before either of them quite realized it he'd lifted her half off her feet and was bracing her against the glass. "Oh my God, Christian…"
He tugged off her clothes, his breath coming fast. "Can't stop…"
"Don't stop," she begged, caught up in the tide, and he smiled for just a moment before finding her and entering her right there. The shock of the cold glass against Leslie's back acted as an added stimulant; and even she forgot nature's fury outside while she and Christian rode out their own storm of passion. Her shriek of his name bounced off the stone walls, and she slowly wilted against him as he found his own frenzied release.
They sank to the floor, Christian cradling Leslie close and kissing her with some urgency. "This is life," he breathed between gasps and kisses. And then she understood: Christian sought to celebrate living, in the face of death.
She kissed him back, her hand in his hair, reveling in his fervent response. There was a persistent sense of urgency about him in the way he kept threading his fingers through her hair, huddling her against him so hard that she felt his rapid heartbeat in contrast with her own, his other hand frantically caressing her back and repeatedly pressing her closer. As a result, she reached another unexpected peak, surprising both of them and then making Christian laugh again, softly, with a note of triumph.
"We're alive, my darling," he whispered to her, still breathing a little heavily. "We're alive, you and I. Let them try to take that from us."
"I know," Leslie agreed, matching his whisper, plucking at his upper and then lower lip in turn with little kisses. "I know…we're alive, and I'm so in love with you…"
Christian swallowed her words and his moan in another kiss. Clinging to her, he broke a moment later, his eyes closing, his breathing rate not quite back to normal. "I love you so, my Leslie Rose…if you could feel how deeply in love with you I am, it would—it would, oh, what's your phrase? It would—blow your mind, is that what you say?"
She giggled softly. "That's the phrase, and you're right, I think it would." She gave him one last kiss and then regarded him with every bit of her love for him shining from her eyes. "Come to think of it, you already did."
They chuckled together. "You blew mine too, I think," Christian agreed. "I don't know what happened, but I've never felt like that before. I never even knew it was possible. Oh, listen, my darling, do you hear that?"
Leslie stilled in his arms. "Hear what?" she asked after a moment.
"That's precisely the point. The storm is gone," he said, and grinned lovingly at her. "We'll cure you of that phobia of yours yet, my Rose, I promise. Perhaps tomorrow night we can come back here and I'll show you the stars."
"I just saw them," Leslie whispered, caressing his face, and Christian smiled, his eyes misting. Once more they kissed; then he set her back, rising and helping her to her feet. They dressed at leisure, then strolled out of the atrium hand in hand.
Back in the bedroom, Christian yawned and took note of the time. "So it's going on towards four," he murmured. "No wonder I feel so sleepy. Maybe that sedative is coming back to haunt me too, I don't know…but I have to tell you, I feel calm, back to my normal self." He smiled at her hope-filled expression. "I think I've finally found my peace."
"Thank heaven," she breathed with enormous relief, hugging him hard. "I've been so afraid for you, Christian, my love. I know you were going through hell for a while, and I was worried it was going to harm you permanently."
He kissed her forehead. "Quite honestly, my Rose, I think all the credit is yours. If it weren't for you and your love, I don't think I would have made it. I've been following that light you kept shining in the dark, and it led me back. I hope Carl Johan can find as much comfort in Amalia, and I wish Anna-Laura could know the sort of love with someone that I've found with you." He squeezed her, then smiled at her. "We'd better try to get some sleep. There are too many people to meet in only a few hours, and I'm sure they wouldn't appreciate our falling on the floor at their feet." She laughed agreement; they climbed back into bed and fell asleep still holding hands.