I know I had some of you scared...but you knew I could not kill our Erik...he's everything. Things are winding down now; so, lean back and enjoy the last few minutes of the ride.
I tried to stay true to my characters in this chapter...I hope you are not disappointed.
DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 42
The stairs seemed longer and more fearsome than they had in the past, but Lavanya descended toward the parlor with regal grace – despite the need to disappear.
She wanted to go home – the home Erik had purchased for her – and she wanted to see Sumukhi, the young filly that he had purchased for her. She wanted to be near his things…his clothes, his piano…and the halls that echoed with his laughter.
She wanted to go home.
Phillip glided toward her with entirely too much glee in his step, and she wondered if he was aware of Erik's death.
"Madam, I have just left the hospital…" he paused a moment, "…I intercepted the messenger that you sent asking to see Erik's body, so I carried it over to the coroner; he said he did not have the body of Erik Lacroix and told me to go to the hospital. So, I assumed they had not transported him yet and went to the hospital."
Raoul lifted a brow and tried to sound patient.
"Phillip, is there a point to this?"
Phillip smiled and nodded, he then took Lavanya's trembling hand in his.
"They made a mistake at the scene, Madam, Erik is alive and I have spoken with the doctor who confirmed it!"
She yanked her hand from his and started backing away from him. She covered her mouth and closed her eyes.
"It is true, Lavanya, I swear to you." Phillip confirmed, "My carriage is outside ready to carry you to his side."
She needed no other encouragement; she swept past him, retrieved her parasol, and proceeded out the door – and everyone followed.
Mr. Tibbs – smiling as though he had been the one to discover fire – walked them all out and awaited instructions.
Lavanya leaned to speak to him from the door of the carriage.
" Norman, please ready the staff to return to Lacroix Manor, Lord Erik will be coming home to recover and I intend to take care of him."
"Yes, my lady."
Once the door closed and they had all settled in, Phillip nervously gave more details.
"Erik is not conscious at this time…he seems to be in a very deep sleep. The Russian doctor that they brought here to tend to him said that he could be asleep for some time…he was not sure."
He had to spend the next ten minutes explaining why the Russian royal family had sent one of their personal doctors to tend to Erik.
"They are eager for him to take his rightful place in their nobility ranks."
Lavanya sat demurely with her hands in her lap, but when her eyes caught his, Phillip saw unswerving, obstinate, stubbornness.
"That decision is Erik's and I will support him – no matter what he decides to do."
The hospital could not have come up fast enough for Lavanya; she led the horde up the walkway toward the dingy, drab building.
Dr. Sidarenka met them in the hallway as they approached the room.
"Lady Demidov, I presume." He bowed.
Lavanya, unimpressed with titles and flair, regarded him with irritation
"I will be Lady Demidov when and if my husband so chooses to take the title; until then, I am Madam Lacroix."
Yergi lifted a brow and then smirked with pride at the spirit in her…thinking she would produce good sons.
"I want to see him…and I want him to be returned to our home where things are familiar to him – voices, smells, sounds – everything."
"Madam…"
"There will be no compromising – Erik would not want to me here and I respect his wishes."
"But he requires care – bathing, changing the wound dressing…"
Lavanya lifted her own brow, and sighed loudly.
"There will be no one bathing my husband but me…and I can change his bandage – I need no help."
Dr. Sidarenka knew how pointless it was to argue with her, so he threw up his hands in surrender, mumbled a quick curse of some sort, and assured her it would be done.
♣♦♥♠
Lavanya ran to his still form and wiped the hair from his eyes with the tears that coated her hands. He looked so incredibly handsome and peaceful, but she knew he was still in bad shape.
Over the next few hours, she read to him, the books she had quickly stashed away in her satchel, and washed his face and neck; his scars were dear to her and she lovingly cleaned them to remove the dirt that had settled on the warm flesh.
When her eyes grew too tired to see anything, she scooted her chair closer to the bed, turned his hand palm side up, and rested her head upon it. He still smelled so wonderful and she could not help but cry herself to sleep; her mind in a constant state of thanksgiving.
She was roused several hours later by the doctor…it was time to move Erik.
♥♦♣♠
Erik felt like death…he was certain every muscle in his body had been strained beyond its capacity. He had no idea how long he had been out, but the voices that hovered over him all the time were unfamiliar to him.
His eyes were heavy and he lacked the initiative to open them, but his ears worked just fine. He contemplated the language that was being spoken by five of the voices, and then there were the educated, pompous French doctors that always seemed to want to use him as a lab experiment.
He must have fluttered an eyelash or lifted his brow a tiny bit, because one of the five foreign voices drew closer and addressed him in – what Erik assumed – was French – and the worst thing about it was they insisted on calling him by that name.
"Lord Demidov…can you hear me?"
Erik smirked – at least he thought he did – and tried to open his eyes.
"He is waking up…get his wife."
Erik opened them briefly, but immediately slammed them shut again, the sun was piercing his eyes as readily and forcefully as a knife pierced flesh.
"Close the drapes…bring him some food."
Erik managed to look directly at the man barking the orders and scowled. He was as unassuming as men come – short, round, rather obscure looking, and scraggly – but the moment their eyes locked, Erik knew this man was a huge force hidden in a small package.
"Good morning, Lord Demidov, it is good to at last see the color of your eyes."
Erik did not speak, but examined the familiar room – stopping briefly on the garish looking men huddled against the wall as though fearing it would collapse without them.
"How long have I been lying here?"
Erik's voice was grainy and slightly hoarse from lack of use, but he managed to clear it and ask the question again in the voice that could heat the polar ice caps.
"Three days, my lord, you have been out for three days."
Erik remembered the events that landed him here – vividly – too vividly. He cringed as he remembered the sight of his brother's blood pouring out of his wound and onto Erik's hands.
"I should be dead." He whispered; feeling the dull ache in his side and reliving the moment when he thought his life was over.
"Yes, you should be, but you have a strong will to live…stronger than any I have ever seen."
The doctor arched a brow and planted a comical curve on his lips; Erik thought he looked very much like a mythical gnome…not a compliment by any means.
"Only one visitor for now, until we know his condition."
The door opened and Erik heard the words of one of the other doctors; then, as though seeing him for the first time, Lavanya entered the room.
It was at this moment Erik realized he was at home, in their bed – and he was completely naked except for some sort of flimsy, gauze material they had draped around him.
"Leave us." He said.
The doctors nodded and left the room.
"Take care, my lord, you are in no shape…."
"That will be all, Doctor, thank you." Erik drilled, never taking his eyes from Anya.
Dr. Sidarenka chuckled and shook his head, mumbled something incoherent beneath his breath, and left the room.
"Anya…" he whispered, "…I am so sorry for everything."
She ran to him, climbed gently onto the bed and curled up beside him. She nuzzled her way beneath his arm and rested in the crook of his arm.
She soothed his concerns away with a gentle kiss to the soft curve of his neck; not caring that she was shedding tears of utter relief and joy.
"Erik…I thought I had lost you…I ached from the void that was left when I feared I would never see you again."
He traced his lips across the silky sheen of her hair, breathing in her scent and knowing that his home – his life – was where she was, and always would be.
"I had to do it, Anya; you do understand that…yes?"
She nodded, "yes", but Erik still heard her quiet sniffling and his heart melted with the knowledge that this woman – this beautiful, desirable, elegant woman – loved him…and no other.
"It was the only way to end it – or he would have haunted us and caused irreparable damage later…when we had built a family…I could not allow that."
She repositioned beside him, and Erik caught her scent on the pillows and sheets.
"You have been here, beside me, every night since you found out I was alive."
It was not a question, because Erik knew she had been; and her tousled hair and
"Yes…as soon as Phillip told me, there was nothing they could do to keep me away."
She clutched him tighter, careful not to aggravate his wounds, but giving him the assurance that she would not allow him to act in such a foolish manner again.
"Phillip told you?"
"Yes."
They laid there, embracing each other; Anya was cautious about his injuries, but Erik held her tightly against him.
"I do believe that as soon as you are on your feet and feeling better, I shall have to punish you."
A low, rumbling sound filled his chest; and although it was not a pleasant feeling, Erik could not help but continue laughing.
"Punish me…that sounds quite interesting..." He teased with a glint in his eyes, "…what did you have in mind?"
She sat up and regarded him with tears in her eyes and a trembling chin, "I am serious, Erik…what would I have done without you?"
She wept in front of him and Erik, in a blatant disregard for his own wounds, leaned toward her and pulled her to him.
"I am sorry, my love…my own safety has never been a priority for me and it is a new development in my life to have someone care about me…" he lifted her chin with his fingers and was lost in her eyes, "…my only concern was your safety."
His calming, lulling voice eased her fears and he found her drifting to sleep on his chest. She was on the opposite side of his wounds, she felt so wonderful against him, and Erik gently traced the outline of her eyes and followed the curve of her cheeks with his tender touch.
The doctor walked in a few minutes later and gave Erik a look that said he wanted her to leave.
"You will leave her be, this is probably the best she has slept in three days."
"But My Lord, the princes…"
Erik held up his hand, halting him in mid-sentence.
"Doctor, whatever it is they wish to discuss with me can wait, my wife needs her rest and apparently she cannot rest without me by her side..." the doctor began to protest, but Erik ignored him, "…she is not hurting me, I feel very well, AND…" he emphasized, "…if everyone does not immediately stop calling me "my lord", said person will be sentenced to a life of servitude in the penal colonies in Siberia."
Even in a roaring whisper, his voice held force and power, his point was quite clear.
TBC