Sorry, I was out of town...I would never forget about my wonderful Erik and where I have left him...and I would not forget about my wonderful readers and reviewers.
Without further delay...
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 28
Erik left the hotel quietly and made his way toward the house he was to share with Lavanya. The night was cool, but clear – and Erik had left the hotel without his cape.
Who cares if you get sick…you deserve it. He told himself. You could not even hold on to her for a day, could you?
He felt old…very old. He could smell her on him – everywhere – and his heart ached to go back to her; but she had made it clear that he was not wanted
Her heated words still banged against the walls of his head and he could not rid himself of her eyesHis scoffing laugh was bitter, and did nothing to ease the ache that bore a hole in his heart. What made you think you were entitled to such bliss? You are a monster, and always will be.
His heart; he had guarded it so carefully for four years, and along comes the most beautiful woman he has ever seen; intelligent and articulate; a contagious smile, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes off her.
However, love…he had sworn never to love again - what a liar he was.
He pulled his watch from his pocket and checked the time. Where had the time gone? The wedding had been over at five in the afternoon – had they really lingered at the celebratory dinner for five hours?
It was one-thirty in the morning…he had been walking for a little over and hour. It was ten-o-clock when he and Lavanya had snuck away and tried to talk...but he had blown that and his temper had once again thrown the arrow that pierced his heart. Now, he feared he would never get over her; and this time, it would be the death of him.
Face it; you will just have to make the best of this until she decides she has had enough… Erik stopped dead in his tracks and laughed cynically to himself, …how am I going to tell Sharad that his sister despises the very sight of me…that she kicked me out of our wedding night hotel without so much as thought?
The cool night air seemed to settle in his lungs and Erik felt chilled down to his bones. It was unusually damp out, making the air thick with moisture. That moisture coated his cape and left small droplets of water on his eyelashes and hair. He had left his hat somewhere, he could not remember where - nor did he care.
They would probably all be against him: Annette, Tarrah, Meg, and Christine. They seemed to have developed a quick and strong friendship with Lavanya – and that would not bode well for him.
The first chance she gets she will probably tell them what a failure I am as a man – then my humiliation will be complete. I am so completely undesirable that I did not even sleep in the same room with her.
He had managed to make it to the house, but dreaded going in. What was there for him in the large, beautiful home that had made promises to him of laughter and possibly of love? There would be no child – after tonight, he certainly did not have the nerve to ask her for such a sacrifice.
What a coward I am turning out to be...I cannot even talk to her...Erik would not allow himself to feel the magnitude of his loss at this time. He would not stay in the house; he would sleep in the stables with D'Ombre and lick his wounds to a dull ache with a bottle of cognac; perhaps, if he were lucky, he would die of alcohol poisoning.
The bottle was easy enough to obtain; he had an extensive bar in the house as a part of high society. He was not being particularly quiet as he rummaged around for it, and the butler roused. Searching the house, he found his master mumbling incoherently to himself and cradling the bottle in the crook of his arm as though it was precious to him.
"May I be of some service, Monsieur Lacroix?"
Erik's head jerked around to the older man and he frowned.
"Not unless you can turn back time?"
He walked away, not caring to hear an answer, and headed back into the night air.
Mr. Tibbs watched him move gracefully through the dense fog that had begun descending to the ground.
He was not sure what had happened, but he was certain it was not a good sign for the bridegroom to be heading toward the stables with a bottle of cognac in his arms and a scowl on his face.
He shook his head in dismay and shut the door. What would be the outcome of all of this when the mistress of the house returned?
♠♣♦♥
The alcohol dulled the ache in his heart, but it did nothing to drown the memories in his mind or wash her smell from his senses.
D'Ombre neighed quietly at his master and even nudged him on numerous occasions; but Erik was numb to everything except the way she had looked in her wedding sari, the beautiful tilt of her azure eyes, and the seducing sway of her hips. The cognac had only heightened his awareness of her – and his desire did not wane as he had hoped.
The bottle lay empty beside him, and he was quiet cold to the touch, but Erik was not concerned; somewhere deep in the night, he drifted into a fitful sleep with D'Ombre standing guard.
It was only a few hours later that his aching, throbbing head lifted off the hay at the sound of female voices not far away.
He stood – very wearily – and headed toward them.
♣♥♠♦
Lavanya had stayed at the hotel, pushing back painful tears and trying to sleep in the large, empty bed; but all she saw when her eyes closed was the deep pain in Erik's eyes as he turned from her and walked away – just as she had hatefully told him to do.
How could I have said what I said…and on our wedding night? They told me about his lack of experience with women and Christine even told me about what transpired between them…she left him broken hearted and feeling unworthy of love; and I treated him no better – worse actually – for I am his wife.
"I am his wife." She said aloud, with one tear gliding down her caramel colored cheek.
She gave up trying to sleep and put on her robe. She knew there would be no one about at this time of the morning, but she needed to walk. The halls were empty and the hotel was very quiet.
She silently descended the long stairway headed for the bottom floor. She entered the lobby and was again taken aback by its beauty. The St. James Hotel was luxurious and ornate, romantic and sensual, with shades of gold and white in the lobby area that just added to the ethereal atmosphere.
Upon entering the lobby, she was shocked to see Christine pacing the floor. The younger woman was holding her extended abdomen and upon seeing Lavanya, she smiled…and then frowned.
She needed a friend right now, and Christine was the only other married woman in the group; other than Madam Giry, but Lavanya did not wish to become friends with the matronly woman.
"Lavanya, if I may be so bold as to ask, why are you down here when your gorgeous husband is in your bed?"
Before the words were even out, Lavanya put her hand to her mouth to prevent the cry that was about to come forth.
"What ever is wrong?"
Christine had come to her side as the young women sank into the overstuffed couch in the lobby.
"I hurt him…worse than anything you have ever done to him…I hurt him."
Christine frowned and sat up for moment, contemplating what she was talking about.
"All we set out to do was talk – I was going to tell him that before we could be intimate, I wanted to be courted by him and that I wanted him to be more sociable and allow people to know and accept him…I want him to be comfortable with who he is and know that he is deserving of everything I can give him and so much more."
She was rambling and she knew it, but Lavanya could not stop. If the words ceased the crying would start.
"…he said that he knew a woman like me would not be interested in a creature like him…." Lavanya frowned and a new spark of righteous indignation flew into her voice, "...creature…he calls himself worse things than anyone else does."
Christine frowned and shook her head.
"I despise it when he degrades himself like that – but I must admit, I have done little in the past to discourage it…being too wrapped up in my own problems like I was."
"I know, it makes me so angry at him…but not the kind of anger that makes me want to scream at him…" Lavanya explained, "…the kind of anger that demands he thinks better of himself."
"What happened next?"
Christine needed to know what had made this sweet natured woman so angry.
"It all went terribly wrong…he stopped talking and prepared to go to sleep on the chaise lounger that was in the room…at the foot of the bed…." Lavanya lifted her tearing eyes and tried to keep the moisture at bay. "…I told him that he was not sleeping in that room, and before I could clarify that it was just for that night and then we would share the manor, but not a bedroom…not yet…he was gone."
Christine dropped her eyes and sat up straighter.
"…I have never seen such pain in another person's eyes." She smiled sadly and crossed her arms over the ache in her chest, "…I basically told my husband that I did not want him near me."
Their eyes met and Christine saw a light in Lavanya's eyes…the same light she saw in her own eyes when she was talking about or to Raoul.
"He has a temper…a very volatile temper at times – although I have never seen him abusive…but he will cool down and the two of you will have a chance to talk again."
"But he has no experience with women and our mood swings…he has no idea that I was just feeding off his anger and that I very much want to be with him in every way…." Lavanya stated, "…but I want him to know himself and his worth first."
Christine suddenly grasped her abdomen and looked stunned for a moment; then, a huge smile covered her face.
"She moved…" Christine gasped with awe.
She reached over, picked up Lavanya's hand, and placed on her abdomen. Immediately, as though proving a point, the baby kicked, and both women giggled.
"That is so lovely!" Lavanya exclaimed.
"You will work this out…it will take diligence and determination on your part…and he needs to know at all times that you love him – unconditionally."
Lavanya smiled and averted her eyes.
"Is it that obvious...my feelings?
Christine smiled and nodded , and then felt her baby move again, and gasped elatedly, "Do you want children?"
Lavanya nodded her head emphatically.
"Oh yes…several…." She finally said with a big smile, "…but first, I must find the man who will play a vital part in giving me those children."
Christine struggled to get up, but Lavanya latched onto her forearm and proceeded to help her.
They were both out of breath when the task was accomplished, and shared a laugh and smiles. Christine gave the older woman a friendly hug and then assured her of her support.
"We shall find him together."
♣♦♥♠
"I really know very little about him."
Christine had decided to tell her side of the story while she had Lavanya's attention. Lavanya seemed level headed and was completely devoted to Erik – even if he did not realize it – not yet, anyway.
"I was seven when papa died. We had frequented the Opera Populaire and father and Madam Giry's brother, Armand, were dear friends. After Armand died, papa continued to be close friends with Madam Giry.
"Before papa died, he gave me to Madam Giry as her ward, telling me that the Angel of Music would always be watching me, and that he would become my teacher and guide – much as papa had been.
"It was not long after this that the voice came to me in the dark hours of the morning. The voice was soothing and kind; and so beautiful that words could not describe it. He made me feel protected and I was not lonely anymore."
Lavanya found the whole story quite fascinating. Christine had been a very young girl and had needed a father figure in her life…and that was where her Angel had come in.
"For the next nine years, he taught me to use my voice in ways no one had ever heard. He taught me that my voice was just an extension of my inner self – my soul. He treated me as an equal on every level – like an intelligent, enterprising young women….he never made me feel bad about myself, or my abilities."
"Madam Giry told me he was a musician and a composer…you have worked with him?" Lavanya asked.
She asked the question with an awe-filled wonder in her voice; this was something she had not known of him. She knew that he was involved deeply with the opera house, but she had not known to what level.
"Oh yes, I have! He sings like an angel, plays the piano, organ, and violin, writes and composes music scores, operas, and plays…he is a genius." Christine praised, "He is also an architect, sculpture, artist, and designer…oh…" Christine grinned and laughed playfully, "…and a magician."
Lavanya really had a great deal to learn about the man she had married.
"I never knew this, Sharad knew very little about Erik, except what Erik was willing to divulge...I learned from him that he had endured much suffering at the hands of many people, but I really know very little other than what happened in India."
Christine seemed shocked by Lavanya's words, and said nothing in response, hoping she would continue.
"In India, he was bought and traded as a gaming slave – a killing machine for the upper class." A shiver ran down Lavanya's spine as the stories she had heard told by her father and his 'patrons' echoed up the stairs to her room, "Sharad was captivated by the humanity of this European, despite the cruelty that had been dealt him for the greater part of his life; he made it his mission to liberate him."
Despite her best efforts, mournful tears crept down Lavanya's face. She tried to seem lighthearted about Erik's disappearance last night, but she was terrified that he had left and no one knew where he was.
"I knew about his time with the gypsies, at least most of it, but I never knew about his time in India…" Christine marveled, "…none of us did."
"I am certain it is a time he would rather forget….and perhaps you can enlighten me on his time with the gypsies…"
Christine frowned and dropped her eyes, "That is for Erik to do."
Lavanya nodded her agreement.
They arrived at the manor and Lavanya began to get out of the carriage, eager to find Erik; the only other place she knew of that he would have gone, was the opera house.
"Lavanya…" Christine had a hand on her forearm and an apologetic look in her eyes, "…I never meant to hurt Erik…I want you to know that. I never thought of him in a romantic way; he has always been a mentor/father figure to me…." Christine assured her, "…but that does not mean that I am not aware of how attractive he is, because I am."
Lavanya thanked her for her honesty and continued out of the carriage; all would have been fine if she had not looked up and seen Erik cantering toward them from the stables. Even with his clothing rumpled, his hair going every direction but the correct one, and his chin, cheek, and jaw covered with a dark shadow of whiskers; he was beautiful - and the sight of him made her stomach do flips.
However, the sight of him also made her miss the bottom step on the carriage ladder and she made a resounding thud as she hit the ground. Christine had started down and had to catch herself quickly to keep from having the same tumble.
Erik had seen what was happening and had forgotten all about his bleeding and broken heart.
"Lavanya!"
Her name flew from his mouth and he rushed forward. He caught Christine before she fell and hurt herself and her baby, and then bent over Lavanya and helped her to her feet.
She tried to put weight on her foot, but it crumpled out from beneath her and she almost hit the ground again – and would have, if Erik had not caught her. She grimaced in pain as a wave of nausea swept over her.
Erik put his arms beneath her, drew her warm, soft body into his arms, and carried her into the house. He ignored the wonderful way she felt against him and the sweet smell of her hair – he concentrated on getting her leg tended to.
Lavanya loved how his arms felt beneath her - strong and tender. The look of concern on his face as he had rushed forward to help her brought a song to her heart. She snaked her arms around his neck and leaned into his powerful chest.
He gently placed her on the sofa in the parlor and waited a moment while she unwound her arms from his neck. He took off his wrinkled, straw-riddled shirt…which left him shirtless before her, placed it on the chair across from her, and regarded her from beneath long, dusky lashes.
Lavanya watched the muscles play across his chest and felt her mouth go dry; how had his attractiveness escaped other women? It was beyond her how blind they all were.
It should be against the law for a man to look that good without a shirt. Lavanya thought, absently wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue.
"If you will permit me, Madam, I need to look at your ankle."
His deep, mesmerizing voice drew her eyes back to his equally stunning face. He was being incredibly formal despite his state of undress and despite the fact that she was his wife.
He stood, just out of her reach, and awaited her answer. She gave a slight nod of her head, not trusting herself to speak, and he bowed his head in response to her acquiesce.
His large, masculine hands were unusually gentle as he lifted her skirt only high enough to examine her left ankle. The pads of his thumbs tenderly prodded the area, without causing any pain. There was a wrinkle of concern on his face, and he spoke without lifting his eyes.
"You have a severe sprain; it probably would have been less painful to break it."
He did not crack a smile, so Lavanya assumed he was not joking. She traced her eyes over his features as he tenderly examined her ankle. Although he was Sharad's age, he had a much older soul, which shone in the subtle lines of his face.
The dusting of grey at his temples did not deter from his handsomeness; in truth, it only added to it. His face had character and a quiet dignity that came from a constant battle within himself; a battle for the right to dare to hope for something more than he had known for the majority of his life.
He felt her eyes on him and knew that he was even less presentable than normal. He suddenly felt very self-conscious about his bare upper body and the filthiness from the stables that clung to him like a blood-sucking leech.
He had forgotten about Christine lingering in her background. She sat silently in the corner chair watching him tend to Lavanya. She was impressed by his bare chest and back, also; and knew that his wife was feeling the sweet torture that his touch was certainly evoking.
He caught a glimpse of her out of the side of his eye and looked pensively over at her. He frowned deeply, feeling doubly exposed and knew they were both either laughing at his hideousness or repulsed by it.
"I apologize for my appearance…most of it I can do nothing about; however, I am in need of a bath, shave, and a clean change of clothes…" he did not look at Lavanya as he spoke, but continued to examine her ankle and the surrounding area. "It will be quite painful for several days, but you must have someone get you up several times a day and try to apply pressure. I will leave instructions with Mr. Tibbs, Mitzi, and Tarrah about the proper care."
He replaced her foot on the lounge and was out of the room before she could inquire as to what he meant. He strolled back in a few minutes later with a shirt on his back, several towels draped over his arm, and a bucket full of chipped ice in his hand.
He placed the towels, neatly folded, on the floor and then placed the bowl on top of them. He motioned for her to sit straight on the couch and place her foot in the bucket of ice. He chuckled quietly as she hissed from the cold contact against her skin.
"I know it is uncomfortable, but the swelling will be less and the pain will subside faster."
Lavanya suddenly remembered Christine and the near accident she had barely escaped.
"Is Christine going to be alright..." There was a slight hint of panic in her voice, "...and the baby?"
Erik lifted his eyes and glanced at her for a moment, but then turned from her to sit in the chair across from her.
"They are fine…," he murmured quietly, looking back at Christine. "…I will send her home in a moment."
She continued to look at him, submitting his features to memory. His eyes looked very tired and his skin was pallid – and when she had first seen him, he looked as though he had slept in his clothes. He smelled faintly of alcohol, but not overly so; mostly, he smelled like horse.
She sat quite still and listened as he gave instructions to the carriage driver to take the Vicomtess home. He seemed nervous around her and quite tense... but she knew she wanted him near her.
Part of her feared that he had taken his pleasure at a brothel since she had not been accommodating, and the thought of another woman touching him made her blood boil; the other part of her knew that he had not – for he did not even consider himself worthy of a prostitute's attentions.
He strode back into the room and noticed her frowning features. He sat on the coffee table directly in front of her and awaited the question he knew she desired to ask.
"Erik?" She asked in a whisper. "Where did you go last night?"
He hesitated to answer, wondering why she asked. He was not with her, just as she had requested; so why was it any of her business where he was?
His head dropped and he rubbed his hands together, suddenly finding his fingernails fascinating. He examined them closely, and then buffed them on the cuff of his shirt.
His eyes finally lifted and he stared into her with a pained look of betrayal and denial. In an instant, his mood seemed to change and he realized within himself the comedic irony of the situation. He would make light of it...for there was nothing more he could do.
"I had a rather wonderful, fulfilling, very intimate relationship with an entire bottle of cognac…" He attested with a sigh and finally allowed a smirk to lift his lips, "…and then - I cannot be certain – but I think I sang a rousing medley of Irish drinking songs to my faithful friend, D'Ombre and a large assortment of nocturnal wildlife."
He glanced at her with smiling eyes - seeing her doubting smile - and then stated, "I'm serious".
The unusual combination of his staggering smile, and the lighthearted tone in his voice, made Lavanya giggle; her giggle entranced him so much, that he continued with his tale.
"I think D'Ombre joined me in the final chorus of, 'All for Me Grog'…but I cannot be sure it was him, for I think there may have been an owl or two backing me up on the final stanza..."
Raucous laughter filled the room and Erik could not stop himself from going on…just to keep her laughing. His voice was as serious as he could make it and he forced the smile from his mouth.
"…my tearful rendition of, 'Oh, Danny Boy', ended with particularly strong gust of wind toppling me forward like a felled tree - face first into a pile of rather smelly hay."
Lavanya was laughing so hard that there were tears falling down her cheeks and she reached up to wipe them away with her hand.
"I have not laughed that hard in a very long time…," she stated through her final giggles.
Erik smiled slightly and looked away, he had succeeded in making her laugh, and that had been his goal.
"How does your ankle feel?"
Lavanya had forgotten about the pain in her ankle and still did not feel it.
"I do not feel the pain right now."
He nodded and smiled, "True enough, the body has its own natural pain killers and they are aroused by several things….laughter is one of them."
She looked thoroughly impressed, "Really…what else arouses them?"
Erik did not even acknowledge the sensual draw in her voice or the soft dilation in her eyes – he simply answered the question.
"Physical stimuli of any sort will work – exercise, physical pleasure, laughter…any such thing."
She marveled at his intelligence once again, and pushed aside her disappointment in his lack of response to her open flirting.
"Thank you, I feel much better..." she smiled, and then asked more seriously, "…did you really spend the night in the stables?"
Erik stood up and gave her a polite bow; he headed for the door as he spoke.
"I did…now…," he stated, and headed for the door, "…I really must return to the opera house and stake a claim on my room before those two buffoons give it to someone else – along with all of my possessions."
He felt uncomfortable in her presence, knowing how she despised him, but he could not resist the urge to remain in her glory for a while longer.
"I will request that Raoul and Christine stay here until I can find the proper staff to ensure your safety and comfort."
He moved through the door and turned to bid her good-bye.
"If it matters to you at all, I am sorry for all that has happened…my only desire is to see you happy. I also apologize for my abhorrent attitude last night…nothing transpired that I had not already anticipated…but I had high hopes…again…" one corner of his alluring mouth lifted in a smile, "…I am sorry."
Time stood still for a brief moment while Erik drew his eyes over her one more time. She looked breathtakingly beautiful and slightly rumpled – like she had tumbled around in the hay with him.
The image that jumped in his mind made his body stir and he mentally chided himself. He almost made it through the door; but the quiet, caressing sound of his name from her lips halted his progress.
"Erik?"
There were tears tracing down her cheeks; tears that should have had no effect on him at all, but he found himself moving forward and kneeling in front of her.
"Why do you cry, little one?" Erik asked with concern in his voice, "If you are in a great deal of pain, I have medicine that will make you less uncomfortable."
She shook her head, but stilled quickly as Erik's hand reached up and swept her tears away with the softest of touches. She leaned into his hand, relishing the feel of his skin on hers.
"Where is the minx that brought a would-be rapist to his knees and easily made the former Phantom crawl away with his tail between his legs?"
His tone was light and she noticed a small smirk on his delectable mouth; but his eyes were distant and still full of pain. She lifted her hand this time, and caressed his scars; he was trying to hide the agony his heart was feeling - trying to make sure that she did not know how much he was hurting.
It was not until the moment she touched his skin that Erik remembered he wore no mask. He started to stand up, but she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him down toward her; his arms extended and prevented his body from falling atop hers. When he recovered and looked at her, his lips rested a mere breath away from hers.
She placed a soft, sensual, too-quick kiss upon his surprised mouth and smiled into his shrouded eyes.
"I am so sorry…." her voice was low, and the timbre was sensually charged. "…please stay. I only want you here, no one else – if anyone's arms are going to be around me – they will be yours."
Still reeling from her sweet, unexpected kiss, Erik sat down on the edge of the couch and pulled her arms from around his neck. He placed her hands in his and kissed each one before releasing them and settling his gaze on her.
"Are you sure?" Erik stressed, "I can easily stay at the opera house...Tarrah will be here."
She smiled at his sweet insistence and his innocent reluctance. She nodded her head and reached for his hand; giving it a gentle squeeze and running her thumb over the masculine knuckles – his hand literally swallowed hers within its large, warm sanctuary.
"I am quite sure…and although I like her very much; I am not married to Tarrah…" She murmured with a smirk, "…I am married to you."
Erik did not understand her reasons, but he was certain his heart was going to suffer another major setback...he only hoped he lived through it.
TBC