Forgive the delay,I have a laptop in sore need of murdering. This chapter may throw you for a loop, but hang in there. Thanks X 100K for your readership, reviews and support.
-Leesainthesky
Ch 62 Duplicity
I wouldn't be able to walk well for a week.
Spooned against Erik, I did not want the morning to end. For Erik to wake and leave our bed meant he was that much closer to Paris and Christine.
I burrowed further under the covers, relishing his warmth.
Off course, what I'd wished against happened; Erik stirred. He repositioned his body, nestled into me and kissed the lobe of my right ear.
I felt the strength of his desire against my bottom. Ah yes, morning wood. I chuckled softly at the thought.
Erik knew my levity was directed at his current condition and deemed the slight acknowledgement as an invitation.
"Do you still doubt the sincerity of my love after last night?" He wagged the tip of his tongue over the responsive spots on my neck and sent me reeling.
"Love is much more than physical attraction you know."
"Did I not love you mind and soul, I would not desire your body nearly as much as I do, Gabrielle."
Opening my eyes, I focused on the only object bright enough to catch my attention in the darkened bedroom; Erik's white mask. It lay atop a book on his nightstand.
It would be numb of me not to consider that Erik didn't harbor an immense love for me, he would never strip himself of his most ardent defense.
Erik ran his fingers down my spine to the erogenous area where my lower back met my bottom, stimulating the tender nerve endings by drawing invisible circles with the tips of his nails.
With this solitary move he both relaxed and aroused me.
Even though we'd made love twice since last night, I craved more of him. I reached over to pluck another French letter from the tin on the table, swept my arm back, and delivered the birth control into Erik's waiting hand.
"I've whet my darling's appetite once more, have I?"
My reply was to rub my bottom against his desire. He parted the folds of soft skin between my thighs and entered me with careful slowness.
Soon enough we were moving against each other in search of loving satisfaction.
After a leisurely two person bath beneath the shower head that Erik had recently fashioned for me, we enjoyed a substantial breakfast of muesli, yogurt, eggs and buttermilk scones pulled together and served up by none other than Monsieur DuPuis; we embarked on our individual morning duties.
Now that the Roux's were three provinces away, I could traipse about in my favorite outfit; a white muslin blouse and a red knee length peasant skirt.
My beloved blue jeans that had made the time jump with me no longer fit, so I encouraged Erik to order a sewing machine from America. Sewing by pedal power was not my idea of progress, but it did the trick and I turned out a few simple built-for-comfort peasant style skirts, pajama pants and blouses.
Wearing skirts that not drag through the dirt and tops without the need of a wretched corset made me very happy. I hoped the festive scarlet color of the skirt might help pick up my mood a bit. Standing in front of my vanity table mirror, I noticed that the blush had returned to my cheeks. I smiled and picked up my silver handled hairbrush and began to brush out my dark coppery hair, reflecting on last night's conversation in my bedroom.
It struck me that Erik's extended absence into what I'd nicknamed his bunker had a favorable effect on him. If I were to believe his recent confession, he'd decided to visit Christine only to retire, once and for all, their unfinished personal business.
Damn it, why hadn't I thought to ask him for a new wedding date?
"Gabrielle?" Erik called from the bottom of the furthermost side of the manor's twin staircase, "I'm off to Paris. Won't you come to bid me farewell darling?"
It's really happening isn't it? I snorted in frustration, giving the brush a careless toss onto the vanity. I put on my best thorn birds face and swept down the stairs as if I hadn't a care in the world, to where Erik stood amid his luggage.
"Must you leave, sweetheart?" I implored gently, straightening the collar of his travel cloak, hoping I didn't sound desperate.
He peered down at me with tenderness. An errant tear spilled from the corner of my eye and he wiped at it with a gloved finger.
"I must; ma belle. Do not worry so, I shall return to you in three days. The day after tomorrow the Roux's return from their holiday—perhaps Marie can keep you amply occupied so you do not have to imagine all sorts of unfounded scenarios."
"Well I do have boo-coos of writing waiting for me…"
"There you go; I'll be back irritating you with my demands in a snap of the fingers." Erik snapped his fingers and gestured grandly, reaching behind my ear. There in his opened palm lay a perfect emerald.
"An inferior token of my love for you until I return."
I managed a crooked smile, and picked the gem carefully from his gloved hand.
"Thank you Erik, it's very pretty."
"Your birthstone, is it not?"
"Emerald for June, yes."
"Consider this an early wedding present. When I return, we'll have the jeweler set the gem in any fashion that you desire."
His gift both amazed and confounded me. I nodded cautiously.
"You'd best kiss me before you go to your little diva."
"Gabrielle," Erik tisked, but before he could complain, I drew his head down and pressed my lips against his. He embraced me tightly and reciprocated. I kissed him as if it would be the last, memorizing the feel and taste of his mouth, his hair beneath my fingers and his unique musk of his body. Eventually we pried our lips apart, and peered into each other's eyes.
I loved Erik's eyes; jade dappled with gold. They had the ability to change shades depending on his surroundings or mood. There was so much to read in those eyes and right now they were full of love and sorrow.
"I am tempted to stay here, carry you up to my bedroom, rip off your clothes and bury myself inside of your velvet warmth."
"Good—you know Erik, I've been thinking…wondering really."
"Yes darling?"
"Sex with you is a tantric trip through an erotic never-never land, but there is so much more to us than base physical attraction, Erik."
He plucked off an errant thread from his black cloak and frowned, "Go on."
"I may be more mature than my nineteenth century sisters, but I give of myself only in love. I mean, we're more to one another than what my contemporaries call fuck buddies. Do you comprehend what I'm saying to you Erik?"
"Gabrielle, any woman who lies with me is either blind or deeply, unequivocally, in love with me. There's really no other explanation."
I twisted my mouth sideways. It pained me to hear Erik depreciate himself.
"Look here—you have become the sort of confidante I never believed possible. You challenge my mind; revive my soul and stir my emotions; my bleak sarcasm is replaced with joyful laughter. Before you, the only beauty in my life was that which I created, it would never seek me out of its own accord."
Erik held my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tipped my face upward. I placed my hand over his and looked into his eyes with difficulty.
"Know that if our bodies could never again be joined, my heart would still belong to you."
I smiled weakly. Did I believe him? I wasn't certain, but it was what I wanted to hear.
Erik picked up his bag, "Au revoir Mon amour."
"Ditto," I replied softly, releasing him.
Erik kissed my forehead then, opened the door and walked down the stone steps of the manor house to his waiting brougham.
I had no desire to watch him ride into the sunset, so to speak, so I closed the door swiftly.
With Erik gone, the remnants of my strength crumbled. I fell against the door, slid to the floor and exploded into a pitiful, sobbing heap.
Sadness over Erik leaving me alone for several days and of knowing he was to visit an old flame would make any woman weary, but sobbing like a heroine in a cheap romance paperback, well, that was plain silly; especially after he had re-asserted his intent to marry me.
I'd become uncommonly emotional as of late. "What the hell was up with that," I asked the pictures in the hall.
I picked my self up off the floor and went in search of a large basket. I had zero time for hysterics; there were apples in the orchard begging to be made into an apple crisp and I intended to inhale all of it, alamode!
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Two days crept by in a timeless blur of sleeping, rising, eating, feeding the animals, showering, reading or writing then sleeping once more.
I wasn't particularly unhappy. I played with the barn cats, rode the horses, piddled in the rose garden and spent significant time keeping the manor clean so Marie wouldn't come home to an old dusty house with dirty linens to wash and floors to sweep. This was to be my home and there was a lot of it; Marie needed assistance in keeping the monster tidy.
Late on the afternoon of the second day while I was in the library singing a Pink song at the top of my lungs, the one about getting the party started, and dusting innumerable books, I heard the doorknocker clack loudly against its brass plate.
Forever wary that the freakazoid, Monsieur Vincenzo, would pay us an unannounced visit, I grabbed the razor sharp letter opener from Erik's desk and proceeded to the front door.
I was relieved when the fellow on the other side of the door was a messenger boy with a special delivery letter for Mdm. Gabrielle Thomassen.
When I eyed Erik's script on the envelope, my pulse spiked. The poor messenger boy got a right scare when I squealed and pecked him on the cheek.
I scrawled my name across the register and sent him along with a hefty tip. The letter was out of its envelope before I'd closed the door.
How odd that Erik chose to type rather than write this, I puzzled.
Maybe he came across of one of the new typewriters and wanted to try his hand at using the contraption. Erik, he does love new gadgets, I smiled.
I took a seat in the salon and began to read:
Dearest Gabrielle, I hope this letter finds you well. You will be relieved to know that I have come to a final decision concerning our affair.
Didn't you just tell me that the last night before you left?
I am the most selfish and terrible of men to treat you so after all we've been to each other, and would not blame you if you now loathe me, but I must do what is best for all involved.
Although I love you dearly and do appreciate with all sincerity your kindness and affections, I fear that I cannot live my life without my Angel of Music.
My stomach gurgled.
Do not weep, my dove, for you are sure to find a more suitable mate than I. Please do not fret about your future dear; I have made ample provisions for you. Inside the glass base of the hookah in my music room, you will find a considerable amount of money hidden within. It is yours to begin a new life with.
How flip-dipping kind and thoughtful of you, Erik
Christine will travel with me to Venice where we will marry, then we shall return to the manor the following week; therefore, it is necessary for you to vacate the manor house by Tuesday. Please feel at liberty to utilize my carriage to move your belongings to your new destination. I hope that someday you will forgive me, until then, thank you for loving me, Gabrielle.
With warm regards,
Erik.
I wadded up the fine stationary in both hands and slammed it against the floor, watching the paper ball tumble beneath the decorative coffee table.
"What in the bloody hell is this shit?" I screamed.
Sure, there was minor fear about losing him to that woman, after all she was the almighty Christine, but Erik assured me that he'd come back to me.
"You love me, I know you do, more than her," I shrieked.
What happened? Did they sing a duet? Did she drug him? Could it be the fact that she is from his time and culture and they share a world that I can never be part of?
Oh Erik, I thought you were different from the others, from Tony. This cannot be happening.
I slapped myself hard when I began to cry.
No Gab, don't do this, not over this man, this—this antiquated weasel.
I suppose all he wanted from me was a warm body, a stand in for his dream girl, then, voila, Christine returns available and in heat.
1877, 2006, they're all weasels aren't they?
Well she can have the sorry fils d'une chienne! I'm out of here!
- 0 -
DO NOT FLAME THE AUTHOR! I do want your reviews and thoughts. This story will get even more interesting so please, please stay with me. Thank you for taking the time to read it, I mean that.
-Leesa
Notes: Fils d'une chienne means SOBMuesli is a whole grain cereal