Welcome all, newbies, regulars and you lurkers too. I have a request at the end of this. I do hope you enjoyed Erik and Gabrielle's impromptu wedding. Props to my beta's, Amy and Barb, thanks for keeping me straight.
Ch 86 Madame DuPuis
Conseiller DeVane and his employees were amiable enough, but make Erik nervous. For my new husband, our brief visit to the town Marie was excruciatingly long.
Having completed the civil marriage ceremony, signed all of the proper documents and carefully wrapped tissue around our wedding photograph, we took our leave of the courthouse.
"Madame DuPuis." I exhaled the words softly then breathed in their perfumed essence. A spirit of wonder settled over me as my new husband and I descended the steps of the Marie.
"Yes, Gabrielle, you are my wife," Erik responded.
We walked along the crowded rue Louis Brindeau, hardly noticing our surroundings One pair of gloved hands mated together, mine covered in lace, clutching Erik's hand in one and white roses in the other. His sheathed in black kidskin, holding onto me and our precious photograph.
I halted in the street, mid-step pulling Erik up short and flung my arms open wide.
"I am Madame Erik DuPuis'!" I exclaimed proudly. Further sharing my jubilation with the entire town, I broke free of Erik's hand and twirled around gleefully. White rose petals fluttered from my bride's bouquet like large snowflakes.
"Careful now, you are also to be a mother, Gabrielle." Erik admonished gently, catching me in his arms and drawing me flush against his body.
"I want every person within earshot to know that I am shamelessly, hopelessly in love with you."
Erik watched me with a mixture of curiosity and embarrassment. He reminded me of a boy who'd discovered something that he wasn't quite sure he should have.
"Have I embarrassed you? Gosh Erik, I'm sorry. I know how private you are, my happiness overwhelms me I'm afraid--"
"I'm not cross with you, my sweet. Having another person demonstrate exuberance purely for my existence is most unprecedented. I've always been hidden from or hidden by others—mustn't soil the pristine eyes of polite society, don't want to frighten them with your unholy visage, you know."
"As far as I care, they can deal with it or bite me," I whispered loudly.
He tightened his grip on my waist. "That's my spirited little filly. Mon coeur est à vous, Gabrielle."
"And my heart is also yours, Erik—for all of time."
Over and over again, I bestowed light, quick kisses to his lips. People stared, but then they always stare. When they do, I mostly ignore them, having learned after our first trip to London that Erik did not appreciate my protective bravado.
Erik's usual way of dealing with them is to pretend they don't exist. He carries on with a set jaw and determined gait.
"I believe we are being scrutinized, my darling," Erik mumbled between kisses.
"Yeppers, we are. It can't be for inappropriate behavior, we are, after all, properly wed."
"Sad little people, Do you pity them Gabrielle?"
"Oh hell no."
"And neither do I. Now, more of what you call your "good stuff."
I giggled like a schoolgirl and wrapped my arms about Erik's neck, stretching up to better assault his delicious mouth. He responded with a hungry moan, stroking his sensual fingers down the side of my torso, pausing at the curves of my full breasts.
The burgeoning hardness in Erik's fine trousers rubbed against my abdomen, fully opening up the floodgates of my desire. If it were 2006, I'm sure someone would have yelled for us to "get a room". I wanted to straddle him and boink his brains out right there in the street.
Eventually we broke free from our blissful kiss-fest.
"I'm not certain I can hold myself until we're home—six more torturous hours before I can bed my wife," Erik complained, shifting his stance to gain relief from the tightening in his trousers.
"I do think we're past the point of marital consummation, dear." I smiled down at my big fat baby bump, hen back to Erik's pained visage.
"But now we are husband and wife. We've an entirely new reason to celebrate."
"And what a fabulous reason it is, not that you and I ever need one, but I can't wait to submit my body to your husbandly wishes," I flirted coquettishly.
"Erik, you looked amazing today. I'm so lucky, blessed, thankful, happy..."
"Gabrielle, the flattery—"
"You must know how I adore you. Erik, if you hadn't found me in the cellar's of the Paris Opera two years ago, I might be lost to the world."
"Darling, I've every confidence you would have survived."
"I didn't know where in Hades I was."
"Hades, indeed," he snorted.
As we neared the train station, hunger and a foot or hand from my child stabbed my insides. "Erik, I need to eat something. Isn't there a café at the station?"
"Directly ahead," he indicated. "I too have a bit of hunger gnawing at me."
Small tables were already filling up with hungry travelers. We nabbed one next to a large shade tree. Erik pulled out a chair and helped me into my seat.
"What luck to be in the shade. Today's warm for early April," I noted.
He glanced skyward, wincing against the sun's glare. "From the looks of it, we could see a good deal of rain during today's travels."
I followed his gaze to the south east and nodded.
"Erik, do you remember how you tried to intimidate me when you discovered me crawling around your old home?"
I received a mild scowl. "I'd no idea who your were or what sort of mischief you were about, dear."
I fiddled with a menu that had just been delivered by an unobtrusive server.
"Oh I know, and it worked for a moment, foreboding man, but then you revealed your underlying goodness. The true Erik, I saw it shining through your menacing facade. All you needed to be good was--"
"--To be loved," he finished. It was one of the few lines in Gaston Lerou'x book that was authentically Erik's.
"Oui, ma chére, when I stumbled upon you I was flabbergasted. A woman, alone and in the fifth cellar of the opera house was an unprecedented occurrence to be sure. Yet there you were, on scraped hands and knees tousled and confused. You wore a red gown of which I was certain had been torn by an attacker, being so very short and all."
"My Todd Oldham. I'd spent a fortune on that dress and the shoes to match." I smiled at the memory.
"Even before your ridiculous claim that you were from the future, before you showed me your twenty-first century advancements, I sensed you were a different sort of woman—intelligent, fearless and quite lovely. Intimidating you did not come easy, I was both intrigued and aroused."
"Aroused, really? I'd no idea. Well I must say, I thought that you were something else, too--very Gothic in your black cape and white mask. And your voice, oh Erik ..." I drifted off in a fog of X-rated memory and blushed.
"Gabrielle, could it be--why you're blushing. My blushing bride, how very unexpected of you!"
"Okay, wiseass. Pragmatic woman though I am, when it comes to you, I am hopelessly addicted."
"My dear, there's no need for embarrassment. Good heavens, we've engaged in nearly every sort of carnal pleasure a couple may, within reason." Erik chuckled, pleased with his droll humor at my expense.
"True, but I have a hard and fast rule about lusting after men I've only known for two minutes. We'd just met and once I'd decided you weren't going to gobble me up like Red Riding Hood's wolf, my thoughts turned to those of a very, very naughty girl."
Erik propped his elbows on the table top, leaned his chin atop his folded hands and smiled impishly. "Do tell me more, my naughty girl."
"Look, Erik, it's time to order. What shall I have, my darling husband, the potato leek soup or a bit of bread and brie?" A young woman stood before us in her starched skirts and apron. Saved by the serving wench.
"Monsieur?" she peered timidly at Erik.
"I shall have the cheese and bread and for my wife, the same including the soup."
"Erik, that's way too much food--"
"Nonsense, you've been increasing by leaps and bounds these past few weeks—but still the rest of you remains overly thin, dear. You must eat. I'll not have a sickly wife and child to worry about."
"You're looking a bit peeked yourself, I swear Erik, if I'm not around to cook for you, you whittle down to skin and bones," I countered.
"I am a grown man, not a woman gravid with child," he admonished with a dip of his head and an I-know what-is-best-for-Gabrielle expression.
"All right, sheesh. Fatten me up then, bring on the feedbag and goat's milk too, if you have any," I added to our order. I really don't mind Erik's attentions. Independent as I am, I like it when he fusses over me.
A quick bite to eat and it was off to meet the 12:47 to Paris. Erik had our luggage forwarded from the inn to the train. I was looking forward to being home, even though six plus hours of riding the rough rails wasn't my idea of a jolly afternoon.
We'd stalled at the entrance to the train station. Erik touched a long tendril of hair that had freed itself from the scads of tiny hairpins pushed into my scalp. With his sensuous mouth relaxed and open, and his verdigris green eyes filled with adoration, he became a young lad, starry-eyed with love, or perhaps a child who'd just captured his first firefly.
At first I thought he looked worried.
"What is it, sweetheart?" I asked.
"You."
"Me? What did I do?"
"You loved me."
- () -
Don't you just love Erik?
I have a request of you, dear readers. When you send me a review, I would like two things, if you've the time; I'd like to know what it is about my story you like and I'd to know what part of the world you hail from—your country, state or town, whatever you feel comfortable reveling. I'm curious to find out where my fan fic travels.
Thank you!
-Leesa