Whew, so much writing this past week... and my apologies for the lateness of this chapter... but look, it is finally here! And my book is finished! Let's not pretend that you want to here all the details on that subject, not when a kiss is possibly looming in the future, so I shall save it for the end and I'll simply say...

Onward!

XXXIV

"Yes," she murmured breathlessly, the anticipation causing those fluttering feelings to magnify tenfold.

Erik did not move quickly. He did not pull her to him, grasping and seeking as he took advantage of what small permission she had given.

Instead, he searched her eyes carefully for any hint of reticent, before slowly, so maddeningly slowly, he leaned carefully forward and pressed his lips to her cheek.

And Christine could not help but feel disappointed.

As she had expected, his lips were not at all unpleasant. They were cool and smooth, and when he pulled away she found that she missed the feel of them upon her skin.

His eyes were closed, and she watched in fascination as he drew his lower lip into his mouth, as if simply to taste the lingering essence of her.

To prove that it had happened.

"Erik," she prompted, gathering her courage and hoping that she was not asking for more than he was willing to give. "Will you... will you kiss me again? Only..."

Erik's eyes opened quickly, his eyes wary as he waited for her to continue. "Only? Did I... did I do something wrong?"

Christine kicked herself for making him doubt. "No," she assured him quickly. "I just... I was wondering... do you think you'd mind very much if we... kissed on the lips?"

"The lips?" Erik repeated dumbly. "You wish to... truly kiss your Erik?"

Christine wondered if that made her a hussy, to want that so very much as she sat in his lap, as she invited him to stay with her the night before. And now she was dissatisfied with chaste kisses on her cheek, practically demanding that he kiss her properly.

"Only if you want to," she added quietly, her own doubts threatening to take over.

Erik chuckled, and he raised his hand so that his thumb could skim the flesh he had so newly christened. "There is not anything I should like better in the whole of this world than to kiss your pretty lips, Christine."

She smiled at him and to her surprise his hand did not retreat, his long fingers mingling with her curls as he took a steadying breath.

And this time, her eyes fluttered closed as he drew her forward, as his lips met hers, sweetly and softly, before he drew back ever so slightly.

Her first kiss.

His first kiss.

Their shared firsts.

It was all too short and over far too quickly, but still she was unprepared for the feelings it stirred within her. She was still nervous, still unsure that she would know how to be a good enough kisser so not to embarrass herself terribly with him, but more than that, she felt hope.

Hope for their future, hope that things could be well, no matter how unconventional their beginnings might have been.

Because even in this Erik was as tender and loving as ever—as if he could be anything else in regard to her.

Erik was staring at her, and with a lump in her throat she realized he was looking for any signs that she was unwell, that being with him in such a way had not in fact cause her to contract some horrible malady that would be the cause her ultimate demise.

"I'm all right, Erik. Promise. I just..."

He released his gentle hold on her hair, his pointer finger coming and skimming the delicate skin under her eyelid, and with a grimace she noticed the wetness there when he held it up for her inspection.

"I only did as you asked," he moaned in confusion, and then she was the one clutching and grasping, hoping she could make him understand before he gave way to such unneeded despair.

"No, Erik, I'm... I'm happy!"

He eyed her suspiciously. "You do not seem happy."

Christine huffed out a laugh, likely only confirming to him that she'd gone completely mad. "Erik, I cannot explain it. I just... don't you see? We can be like everybody else! Like other couples who have breakfast and kiss because they love each other and... and that makes me happy."

He was still looking at her in that peculiar way, but suddenly he glanced over at the breakfast table his tone thoughtful. "Like everybody else?"

She hoped that hadn't offended him. She hadn't meant that he was any less extraordinary or that he was in any way boring, but it was simply... nice to experience some normalcy again.

Even if it was a new normal that she had never let herself even dream about until very recently.

"Yes," she confirmed, suddenly feeling rather timid with the way he continued to study her so closely. "But only in the best ways."

"The best ways," Erik mimicked yet again, and she wondered why he felt it necessary to repeat everything she said.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked, once again chastising herself for not asking it sooner. He had wept when she had kissed his forehead, but now he seemed remarkably calm if not a little... wary.

"Perhaps," he divulged, his words carefully chosen. "But only... only if Christine liked it."

And there it was again, the boyish way he peered at her, as if his every happiness hinged upon her declaration to come.

How could she not have liked it when it had come from her sweet Erik?

When she loved him?

"It was perfect," she murmured, wiping at her eyes and telling herself firmly not to cry anymore. Not when it worried him so. "I liked it very much. Except," she added, and his eyes snapped to hers, and she hated and loved the concern that she found there. "Except I think it ended a little too quickly."

Erik released a heavy sigh, and she would almost have thought it was reluctance. But when he was kissing her again, this time his lips moving coaxingly against hers as they tested and teased, there could be no doubt of his willingness.

This time she was the one to pull away, her lips unused to the movement and her lungs reminding her that breath was quite necessary if she valued living.

And this time there were no tears, only shy smiles between them both as they stared at one another.

"You must think a bit less of me now, kissing a man on the first date." She had said it in a teasing tone, but even as the words escaped her, she realized that a part of her was indeed worried about that very thing.

But Erik merely tapped her on the nose, his eyes soft as he regarded her. "You are a silly girl," he affirmed, before he helped her from his lap, steadying her with his hands at her waist as she found her footing.

She should be affronted. She was an adult, and she tried very hard not to be silly, especially not when Erik was typically the epitome of maturity, but... she could not help the little shiver that went through her at the way he spoke to her, his affection so very obvious even if the words were not so.

But still, some part of her was bothered, and Erik would not be the attentive man she loved so very dearly if he didn't notice.

"What troubles you about it? Do you truly believe I could think less of you when you have bestowed upon me such a precious gift?"

She blushed again, not used to having kisses heralded in such a way, but her worries from earlier must be plaguing her more than she'd realized, as she could not shake the slightly disconcerted feeling that settled over her. "Why are things so easy with you? I... Ever since I first saw you I began to care about you, and then... and then we're here and I want to kiss you and it was lovely and I liked it very much," she did not miss the way Erik's eyes glittered at her praises, "but..."

His head tilted slightly to the side questioningly. "Yes?"

"Are you my boyfriend?"

Maybe if she was sure of their relationship, that they were moving toward something more permanent, her concerns could be abated.

Erik scowled at the title, and she suddenly felt so very small.

"Oh," she replied, ready to go back to her plate and see if she could coax any warmth out of her teapot for comfort.

But Erik was taking her hand even as he tucked a finger under her chin, biding her to look at him.

"I told you before that I do not care for such titles," he reminded her, and she remembered—truly she did. But what did that mean exactly? Erik was... peculiar and eccentric, and while she cared for him deeply—could no longer imagine her life without him in it, there were certain things that were important to her.

Knowing that he was willing to marry her was one.

Maybe not now. Not when things were still so new.

But someday.

Because her papa had always said that marrying her mama had been the best decision they could have made.

Especially since she'd come of that union.

Christine took a careful breath, not sure how to approach the subject. She saw how vehemently he had jumped at the proffered opportunity to hear her sing, and if he was amiable to the prospect of marriage, he might assume she meant now.

And she would not marry simply to assuage some silly feeling of worry. She would not. She would marry him when it felt right to do so, with her heart full to bursting as he asked her.

Perhaps even a ring being involved.

"You are very quiet, Christine," Erik scolded her gently. "Tell your Erik what is going on in that pretty head of yours."

She nibbled at her lip, still unsure of her phrasing but knowing that she had to be as clear as possible.

"I don't know what you mean when you say you don't like titles. Does... does that mean that... sometime in the future... we wouldn't be married? You wouldn't want to be a husband?"

He blinked at her.

He stared.

And then he laughed, rising quickly and pulling her into his arms. They had shared quite a bit of contact, some instigated by him, but this felt like the first time he had done so for reasons other than pain or despair.

He did it simply because he wanted to.

"I suppose I should clarify," he murmured between lingering chuckles. "I find the title of boyfriend to be most unappealing. I am far from a boy, and I do so hope to be more than your friend. But I suppose for most young ladies of your age, it would be more common to have such relationships, especially given the duration of our acquaintance."

Christine fiddled with the button on his shirt, noting the perfect stitching that held it so firmly in place. "But... then... what are we exactly?"

"We are Erik and Christine," he answered simply. "And I rather think they belong together just as they are."

She smiled at his certainty, still not wholly convinced herself, but appreciating his confidence. "Do you see them getting married?"

His fingers smoothed through her hair, teasing her curls even as she heard the smile in his voice. "I would marry you this very moment if you would allow it. But I believe I have acted rashly in far too much of our courtship, and you deserve a more proper asking."

She didn't know why she needed to hear that, but she did. Something loosened, some tension she could not quite explain, and she allowed him to hold her close.

"And besides, if it troubles you so greatly to think of it," Erik continued, although he nearly groaned at the mentioning of it. "I too shared my kisses on the first date. Does that make me a hussy?"

And this time it was Christine who could not quite contain her chuckles, pulling back only slightly so she could look at him. "I rather think it does."

He smirked at her, although she could see he held some distaste for that title as well. "Very well, then hussies we shall be." He unwound one hand from about her back so he could waggle a long finger at her. "But only for each other."

Christine acted quickly before he could move again, placing a slightly lopsided kiss to his fingertip, Erik blinking down at her in surprise. "Deal."

-X-

Quite begrudgingly Erik allowed her to help with the breakfast dishes, though he cited numerous times that a gentleman would not permit his lady to do so when in the process of wooing her affections.

She'd only smiled at him and gave him a nudge, holding her hand out for the muffin tin so she could dry it with one of his kitchen towels. "It's a good thing then that you already have my affections."

Erik sniffed indignantly, but proffered the tin obediently.

And even as he did so, she was not oblivious to the way the very corners of his mouth were quirked to the tiniest of smiles, obviously not too unhappy with their little arrangement.

Boo had long since quit the kitchen, and Christine was quite certain they would find him lounging about the living room, washing and napping as was his wont. She'd never had a cat, her life with her papa full and rather busy, and they'd never even broached the subject of adding to their little family. Was it usual for them to sleep so very much?

But Erik did not seem concerned beyond his scowls whenever Boo frequented his favorite chair, and he was much more educated than she.

"What else would you like to do today," she asked him, the kitchen only requiring a bit more effort before it would be restored to its typically pristine state.

"I believe I have already voiced enthusiasm for one particular activity."

She nearly smacked him when at first she thought he was referring to their kisses, at the look he gave her when she gasped in outrage, she quickly amended her thinking. "Singing?"

"Quite so," he replied drolly.

Christine mustered up a tenuous smile, and Erik's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Have you changed your mind so readily? If you recall, I was prepared to take advantage of your whim the moment you presented it, but someone required that we wait."

Christine folded her arms. "Would you rather have had our kisses or heard me sing?"

Erik's mouth opened once, then he promptly closed it. Only to open it again with a roll of his eyes as he answered her. "Do not be absurd."

She managed a much more genuine smile at his orneriness, but still he ceased his work on the counters so he could give her his full attention. "What troubles you at the prospect of singing?"

She wanted to simply shrug, to shy away from the topic entirely, kicking herself for being the one to bring up the subject in the first place—to offer him such a thing when still it sent nerves clutching at her belly and begging her to change her mind.

"Is it about your father?" he prodded further.

Christine sighed, worrying at the dish towel and wishing there was more to dry so she wouldn't have to look at him staring at her so very closely. But it was better to be honest, she reminded herself firmly, and she did so want to at least be able to give him this. "Partly," she started, taking another breath as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I just... I guess I'm just nervous."

Erik's head tilted to the side. "Why? It is merely your Erik you shall perform to."

Christine chuckled, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of that statement.

Only her Erik.

That was precisely the problem.

"Erik," she stated patiently, gesturing about his house. "Look around us. You had not a bit of formal education and yet you've created all of this. And then... I heard you on the violin. I've never heard anyone so brilliant and I'd like to think that my papa was one of the most talented men in the state. And then you... you want me to sing for you? How do I even begin to measure up?"

Abandoning the counter completely, Erik stepped forward, his brow furrowed and appearing the perfect picture of confusion. "That particular worry should be the furthest from your mind, Christine! Not when you seem to have been plucked from among the very angels themselves!"

She blushed at that, his earnestness making it quite clear that he actually believed it, but knowing that she by no means was nearly as good as he claimed.

Maybe once she had the potential for it. If things had been different and her papa's death had not robbed her of all her joy.

Now...

Now she was technically proficient. She could hit the notes and customers would tip her after her turn, but something was missing.

Her soul.

And yet Erik claimed that she was good enough now, and she knew—she absolutely knew— that he was lying. Or perhaps if not lying, most severely mistaken.

For she had known a taste of what it was to imbue each song, each melody with the rapture of her very best, and that had long since been unattainable.

She thought back to one of her last performances at the restaurant, the customer who had come to her section only to disappear after she had finished. She had tried then, had wanted to know if she could still do as her papa had taught her—to give her all to the music. And while she had done better, had felt renewed at the simple trying, it was not going to compare to Erik's particular brand of genius.

And she didn't feel able to pretend that it would.

And Erik must have seen her conflict, for he sighed deeply, a pained look upon his face. "You do not believe me," he murmured sadly. "You are going to continue to deny me the pleasure of your voice."

Christine saw Erik's hand creep nearer, pulling the dish towel from her grasp so that she had no further distraction to excuse the way she avoided his gaze.

"You'll be disappointed," she told him quite truthfully. "I tried to tell you before but... that part of me was damaged when my papa died, and I... I can't be what you want."

Erik's lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance. "And how is it that you know what I want? What do you presume I am asking of you?"

Christine shifted uncomfortably, not liking when he was irritated with her. "I don't know..."

"No, you do not. You presume and upset yourself with things you do not understand."

Christine winced, for she could readily appreciate his frustration. In those early days when she had yet to comprehend his motivation for taking her, she'd accused him of wanting a great many things from her—and evidently she still possessed a penchant for doing so.

"I'm sorry," she offered truthfully.

Erik tapped his fingers on the counter, regarding her. "It is true that I have... thought of teaching you. Of perfecting and tuning your instrument until you far exceeded any other. I have a great deal of compositions you know, buried down here in the ground with none to appreciate them. And there was a time, when I was locked away in that monstrosity of a holding cell that I thought of you bringing them to the stage—and that was before I had even heard you sing!"

Christine continued to look up at him warily, not entirely sure of where this was going.

She already knew that she had very little desire to take to the stage, but she would correct him on that point when he'd finished.

"But I find that my dreams have altered of late, and are of a far more... domestic ideal."

He glanced pointedly at the sink still full of sudsy water, waiting to be let out when the last of the crumbs had been divested into their foamy depths.

"Really?" Christine questioned, hoping that it was indeed true.

"Really," Erik confirmed. "But that does not however follow that I should like to go the rest of my days without the benefit of hearing your voice. It is a beautiful thing, Christine, and I should hate for you to squander it, even if you should only perform for me. Is that such a terrible request?"

Christine shook her head, trying to decide if she could do as he had asked.

And with the way he looked at her, an almost pleading quality to the expression, as if it would truly mean so very much to him that she would share in this pursuit with him…

It felt impossible to say no.

"All right," she finally managed, nervous but perhaps just a bit excited at the idea all the same. She could do this, she assured herself. This was Erik and he loved her, and that would be enough.

"Excellent," Erik announced, already taking her hand and leading her from the kitchen, evidently intent on not giving her time to change her mind by finishing the dishes properly.

And then he had pulled a coat out so she would be comfortable for the short trip across the lake, and then he allowed her to place one last kiss to Boo's sleeping head—cuddled as he was against the arm of Erik's chair—before they had departed for the music room.

But when they entered, Christine gave a yelp of fright and surprise.

For they were most definitely not alone, the figures of two men greeting her in what was supposed to be Erik's private domain.

"Gentlemen," Erik addressed them crisply, quickly moving in front of her. "To what do I owe this great honor?"

Sooo... Looks like they have some visitors! Anyone want to take a guess? And they kissed! HUZZAH! Only took them 34 chapters to get there... I'd love to hear what you thought! Is it everything you'd hoped?

For those of you who are interested in my other works, I'd love to introduce you to my latest novel. The Making of a Lady is now available through Amazon (the print edition soon to follow... just waiting for my proof to come in so I can approve it!). I cannot provide direct links but you can simply type in the title and my name (Catherine Miller) and it shall appear. And now, a brief description!

Bonnie is but a little thing when she is forced to bear witness to the cruel separation of the prince's mother from her beloved son and his future kingdom. Too young and earnest to realise her error, she offers the prince comfort in the form of a listening ear and hugs the best in all the world. Of lowly birth and little means, Bonnie tends quietly to her scullery work in the kitchens to keep her own mother well and happy, enduring the cruel temper of Cook, yet never forsaking her friendship and growing affections for the lonely prince. Though the passing of years and the suffering of heavy trials do more and more to make evident the great chasm between their stations, Bonnie has too loving a heart to forget the prince entirely, and despite the impossibility of such an idea, cannot help but think of him as her very own.

Under the watchful supervision of a malcontented king, Prince Cyrus struggles to maintain his royal birthright while still holding fast to the demands of his own conscience. The battles he faces become ever more egregious as his uncle casts an all too knowing eye upon the one he holds most dear, and proves he will stop at nothing to secure the kingdom for his own. When Bonnie's life is threatened, Cyrus must face a terrible quandary—what cost is too great to protect the one he loves?

If those names seem at all familiar, this is a companion story to A Nymph Without Mercy, but by no means do you need to have read one to understand the other.

Anyway, enough from me. Until next Saturday!