Hey all! Gosh this update has been a long time coming. Sorry about that. This last week made it almost impossible to write. Midterms and then me having to pick up someone else's shifts at work really set me back. But anyway hope you enjoy this update despite the long wait!
A huge thanks to Terpsichore for her great editing skills! She is the best…Oh and also thanks to all of you great reviewers! I love hearing from each and every one of you. (Oh and I didn't mention this last week but I need to give a special thanks to all the new reviewers! Especially the two who reviewed for just about every chapter! You guys are great!)
Chapter 58: Warning from Beyond
With a soul-chilling shiver racing up his spine, Andrew started awake with a jerk. Sucking in an unsteady breath, the young lord stilled under the satin sheets, his black eyes flying open to stare up at the shadowed canopy above him. Raising a hand from under the covers to press against his racing heart, Andrew struggled to place what exactly it was that had awakened him. Listening to the silence of the sleeping house around him, he heard nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that should have made him come awake with his heart in his throat and a cold sweat clinging to his skin. Perhaps it was just a dream. It was just another bloody dream.
That comforting thought had barely crossed his mind when Andrew got the distinct feeling that he was being watched. Another shiver tickled over his flesh as he stilled upon the bed, turning the full focus of his mind to the dark room around him. As before he heard nothing out of the ordinary, but the feeling remained; from the darkness eyes bored into his back, making his skin itch in protest to the intense scrutiny. On full alert now, Andrew turned his head subtly to the side, towards where he was certain the intruder was watching him from, feigning sleep as he slowly gazed about the room.
In the far corner, sitting casually in a tall-backed leather chair, sat a man. Though his face and most of his body were obscured in shadow, Andrew noticed how neatly the man's hair was combed back from his forehead and the fine cut of his dark clothing. Something unexplainable about the faceless stranger set Andrew's nerves on edge, creating a deep seated sense of dread to churning within his stomach. The man hadn't moved, hadn't even appeared to breathe, and yet Andrew distinctly felt the threat emanating from his still figure.
Reaching under his pillow Andrew pulled out a small pistol then sitting up in his bed he leveled the weapon at the intruder with deadly calm, ignoring the gooseflesh raising up upon his arms. "Do not move sir or I will blow your brains out," Andrew hissed at the stranger, clicking back the hammer of the gun to punctuate his words.
"Too late for that I think, Andrew," the man replied in a whisper-soft voice that floated through the air like a funeral bell.
A quick panicked jolt shot through Andrew's system as he thought he recognized the cultured inflections in that voice, quiet though it was. The accent, the wording seemed to speak directly out of the past, for the stranger's voice was no other than his brother's. For a brief, unsteady moment, Andrew felt the years fall away behind him, leaving him reeling as he struggled to rationalize what was happening. No, that isn't right…this is wrong. He knew he must have misheard for he was certain that it was John sitting across from him. That cannot be. I am imagining things. It is not his voice…he is dead.
"What?" he managed to blurt out through numbed lips.
The shadowed figure didn't move, but something in the atmosphere changed, sending a wintry charge through the air, throwing the room into a blanket of cold, bitter as the grave. Waiting, tensed for a reply, Andrew watched as his own breath froze in the air before his face. Then slowly the man in the chair turned his head slightly to the side, allowing a bar of moonlight to fall over his pale face, over John's distinctly scarred face.
"Well, that is simple, brother, for, you see, I think it is a little late for you to be threatening me now." Looking to the side, one corner of John's mouth pulled up into an ironic smile as he raised a finger to trace over the small round bullet wound in the middle of his forehead. "It would just be a little redundant for you to 'blow my brains out,' and, of all the things you are, Andrew, you have never been one to have to repeat yourself."
Feeling the gun slip from his numbed fingers to bounce harmlessly onto the bed sheets, Andrew felt physically ill. Closing his eyes, the young lord took several rocky breaths. "This isn't real. This isn't real. You are dead and buried this isn't real," he willed himself to believe his own chant as he felt the terrorized guilt climb up the back of his throat like a scream, choking the breath from his lungs.
"Funny how the things we do in the dark always seem to come into the light…eventually."
Opening his eyes when shutting them failed to dissipate the specter, Andrew pressed himself back against the headboard, shaking from the cold as it seeped painfully into his bones. "This isn't…"
"But it is real, Andrew. You remember what happened. You have dreamed about it enough times. That is why you drink so much now, to forget the dreams, but still you remember."
"Stop it…"
"You remember how the jealousy ate away at you, burning holes in your mind until you could think of nothing but what you didn't have, of what I had."
"No."
"Until the moment that murder seemed less painful a thing than living with that agony, until the moment you put the barrel to my head and pulled the trigger."
Banging a fist against the headboard, behind him Andrew shook his head. "That is not how it was. You always lied about me! You always judged me. I could see it in your eyes, John. You and father both!"
"You know I didn't. Perhaps, the judgment you saw in us was only a reflection of what you felt for yourself."
"Shut up! You always knew everything, didn't you? Always so understanding and wise. How was anyone supposed to compete with that? Just one little selfish thought, just one moment of conceit and I was less than you! ME! The firstborn and I was less than you! And when I had finally found something…someone…that I knew could fix what was wrong within me…you took it away from me! Again!"
When the shadowed figure didn't move during this tirade, Andrew fell suddenly silent, the decades-old bitterness within him clogging his throat. Horrified by his own unstable behavior, the young lord bit down hard, grinding his teeth together furiously. The quick flash of anger faded and Andrew paled. What am I doing…this isn't real. I cannot be having an argument with my dead brother. "Why is this happening?" he breathed raggedly as he raised both hands to cover his face.
"You know why…"
Shaking his head, Andrew refused to answer the phantom voice, but John's quiet English broke through the quiet nonetheless. "I do not like what you are doing, Andrew…what you are planning on doing. Let her go, brother. There is nothing in this world that can fix what is broken within you now. You are far beyond that."
"And what if I do not stop?" Andrew challenged, searching for his little brother's eyes among the shadows.
Sinking back into the darkness around him, John's outline faded, becoming one with the night. "Then you will die."
Gasping aloud, Andrew jerked violently upright in bed, his heart battering against his ribcage so brutally he was sure his ribs would break. With his eyes darting fearfully about the room, he clambered out of the bed, falling heavily to the floor when his legs became tangled in the sheets. Pain shot up his elbows as he lay upon the carpets, shocking him back into reality. Turning his head, he stared at the rather ordinary chair across the room were only moments ago he had seen his dead brother sitting. It was empty now, but he swore he could still feel a tomb-like chill spiking through the air.
Slowly his heart stopped bucking within his chest, leaving him feeling giddy as the fear stagnated and dissipated. Sitting up painfully, Andrew looked down at the angry red welts upon his elbows. Unbidden a burst of relieved laughter bubbled up the back of his throat, his shoulders shaking as he leaned back against a nearby dresser.
"It was just a dream after all," he murmured to himself as he closed his eyes tiredly. "I knew it. It was just a bloody dream." His laughter took on a slightly hysterical tinge as he climbed to his feet and walked over to the window. Dropping down onto the window seat, he gazed down over the black expanse of the nighttime Paris skyline. Leaning his clammy forehead against the cool panes of glass, he forced what remained of his fear to the side, falling back to the cool logic which was so comforting to him.
Andrew sat like that for hours, hunched upon the brocade cushions with his knees pulled up to his chin, his eyes tracing the outlines of the darkened buildings below as the sun rose sluggishly over the horizon. She is out there…right now. Only blocks away…Finally I won't have to worry anymore…Finally, after ten years of waiting, she will be mine. Everything will be fine…Glad for the light of dawn and thoughts of Brielle, the young lord smiled. The terror of the night faded from his mind as he listed the things he had to go over that day. One of the many foreign companies he owned was in the middle of a very lucrative takeover; the thoughts of meetings and figures filled his head and allowed him to think of nothing else.
Calmer now, he climbed stiffly to his feet, crossing the room to dress himself in silence, unwilling to wait for one of the servants to assist him. Straightening his silk cravat, he hurried down the stairs of his townhouse and out the front door, ignoring the blurry-eyed curiosity of his butler as he passed the older man in the hall. I feel so foolish…believing that John was actually there, he thought sourly as he strolled down the empty street. My god, I thought I had lost my mind for a moment. Perhaps I should see a doctor to get something to help me sleep. A little laudanum should certainly make sure I don't see anything I don't wish to from now on.
Making his way through the early morning hush to his Paris office, Andrew let himself in, knowing that the clerks would not arrive for at least an hour. Sitting behind his massive desk, the young lord looked over some of the paperwork from the day before. Noticing a new envelope sitting to one side, Andrew picked it up and smiled at the return address printed neatly upon the white paper. It was from his lawyers. Pulling out the papers within, Andrew read over the custody contracts quietly, his dark eyes lighting up as he took out a pen and signed the bottom of the last page.
Sitting back in his chair he set his pen down. Aria now legally belonged to him. Staring at his own flowing signature he couldn't help but feel a second of doubt. A flickering of unease broke through his triumph, pushing his smile down into a frown. If I do this…there won't be any going back. His brother's final words rose up in his mind though he had spent hours trying very hard to forget them.
"I do not like what you are doing, Andrew…what you are planning on doing. Let her go."
His hands shook upon the desk as the guilt swamped his senses. What am I doing? What am I doing? Pushing the paperwork away from him, Andrew rubbed his hands over his face, feeling as if he were on the edge of some important epiphany but was afraid to take that final step into the unknown. Have I gone too far? Have I allowed my one bid for redemption to be the very thing that corrupted my soul? Brielle…Bri…why didn't you just choose me? Why couldn't I have been seen as the better one for once in my life? Agony tore at his mind as these long buried questions refused to be squelched any longer.
I have the choice…I could just walk away. And for a moment he imagined that he loved her enough to truly let her go, but all too soon the moment was overcome by the years of focused anger and repressed conceited selfishness that had been festering within him. Turning deliberately, he opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a bottle of brandy. Tilting the bottle back, he took several desperate gulps without taking a breath. Setting the liquor aside, he waited as the effects of the alcohol warmed his blood and wrapped a soothing fog around his mind. He no longer felt as if he were balancing on the edge of some terrifying enlightenment.
The unease faded, the bad memories faded, and Andrew felt his brutal self control return, felt the dark boiling power of his obsession blow over his senses like a hurricane. Abandoning the doubt and the moment of insight he had felt so near, Andrew calmly took a deep breath. His expression freezing cold and hard as a stone statue, the young lord pulled out a blank sheet of paper to pen a note to his lawyers. Stuffing the letter and the signed custody contract into a new envelope, he set it aside to be delivered later. Everything would move forward as he had planned, and now just to prove to himself he was not wavering in his decisions, he wrote a second note to the managers of the Opera. Within the letter he suggested that a masked ball be held on the night of the theater's reopening, knowing full well the whole time that they would not refuse their patron his request.
No more doubt. I know what I must do now. She will be mine…if I have to murder half the people in Paris to get to her. And just to make sure her heart no longer wanders, I will put that blasted masked man into his grave. No more tricks…no more deceit…no, this time I will just have to be more direct. Direct as a bullet through the brain.
She will be mine…
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Snuggling down into the mound of blankets covering her bed, Brielle tried to ignore the annoying chill that sent a shiver skipping down her spine. Opening one eye, she glared at the far wall when the gooseflesh puckered the skin along her arms. With a groan she gave up on her bid to go back to sleep. Rolling over, she flung out her arm to the other side of the bed, smiling as she searched for Erik's warm body among the sheets. The smile fell from her lips when her fingers met only the impression of where his body had been, cool now from his evidently long absence.
Sitting up, she looked around the room in confusion, finding no sign of the masked man anywhere. Pulling a sheet up to cover her naked body, she threw her legs over the edge of the bed and padded over to the door. Sticking her head out into the hall, she called his name but got no response.
Retreating back into her room, Brielle wrapped the sheet more securely around herself to fend off the remaining chill. Suddenly, the absolute quiet of the room around her was a little unnerving. I had forgotten…that this place is so far underground. He worked hard to make this place seem like a home, but still…really it is more a stone tomb than anything. Looking up briefly, Brielle moved to the wardrobe standing in the corner of the room. Opening one of the doors, she gazed in at the lovely clothes within, knowing full well that each and every dress had been made for another woman.
Pulling out a pretty pale blue day dress she threw off the sheet and donned the proper layers of undergarments. Struggling slightly with the clothing that had obviously been tailored to a thinner body type, Brielle buttoned the tiny row of white buttons up her front, barely able to close the top buttons of the bodice over her chest. By the saints, that girl must have eaten air to be this thin! Brielle thought sourly, careful to keep her breathing shallow in order to not strain the already tight fit any more than necessary.
Turning, she moved to peer at herself in the full-length mirror that rested against one wall. The frown slowly eased from her expression as she studied her reflection. Smoothing her hands down the intricately embroidered bodice, she couldn't help but feel a pleased flush work its way into her cheeks. The powder blue silk set off the deeper tones in her eyes, giving them the soft look of antiqued silver, and though it was tight, the cut was finely tailored. Plucking a box of hair pins from the dresser top, she swept her hair up in a simple bun atop her head. Well, I may not be able to breathe, but damned if Erik didn't have good taste. I haven't worn a dress this lovely in a long time.
Her spirits buoyed slightly, she smiled and swept out the door and into the organ room. Pausing in the doorway, she looked about the room. Only about half of the space was illuminated now, most of the thick white candles standing unlit in their holders, the shadows adding to the quiet, almost abandoned, feel of the area. Absently running her fingers over the soft silk of the gown, Brielle shook off another wave of trepidation and moved forward. How did he not go mad down here by himself? It is so quiet…like I am the only person in the world.
Needing something to busy her mind from the fact that she was alone in a place she had no idea how to get out of, Brielle moved to a table and pushed in all the chairs. Stacking up some scattered books, she hefted the volumes and carefully returned them to a nearby bookshelf. Relaxing now that she didn't have to think about how eerily the lake stretched off into the darkness to her right, she began to gather up the crumpled pieces of paper that were strewn all over the floor near the organ. Dumping all of the rejected compositions into a trash bin, she couldn't help but wonder at how disorderly Erik was when he was concentrating on his music. There were literally piles of forgotten balls of parchment everywhere around his organ and the nearby writing desk.
"Ach, what a slob," she mumbled on a half laugh as she reached out to snatch up another balled piece of paper just to the side of the desk. "Who would have thought how messy he is? He is always so careful about his appearance…"
On the verge of tossing this last ball in the trash with the others, she noticed that, unlike the others, it did not have staff lines. Turning back a corner with one finger, she was able to see the bold lines and shadows of a charcoal drawing. I didn't know he drew. Setting down the trash bin, Brielle straightened, smiling as she eagerly smoothed out the paper on the desktop. The striking girl upon the page was immediately recognizable. Brielle slipped downward into a nearby chair as she stared down at Christine's smiling face. Something within the Irishwoman's heart ripped open as she pushed the drawing to the side, trying desperately to steady her suddenly shallow breathing.
He drew her…she thought numbly, the hurt washing within her like a crashing wave. The loneliness of the empty room pressed in around her once again, leaving her shaken as she listened to the echo of her own breathing sounding overloud in her ears. Pursing her lips together, she fought for some semblance of control of her quickly downward spiraling emotions. Stop being so dramatic. He can do as he pleases…it is just a drawing. It was on the blessed floor after all…
Sighing, Brielle raised a hand up to cover her eyes. I don't know why this should bother me so. I just hate the constant reminder of her…of the fact that he must still hold some affection for her. Why else would a man keep all her things? That is why I stopped him before he could tell me he loved me…I didn't want him to just repeat my words back to me. Not when he still carries someone else within his heart.
Reaching out, she slowly crushed the charcoal picture up in one hand, sliding the ball off the edge of the desk as she gazed off to one side. Eventually…eventually I think he will be able to put her behind him. I will make sure of it. Startled out of her dark musings by the sound of the slap of oars against still water, Brielle glanced up, peering into the shadows just beyond the flickering circle of light from the candles. The clanking of metal chains had her standing up. Somewhere in the dark a large metal portcullis was grinding upward and out of the water, sending small waves into the light. A moment later the bow of the familiar two-person boat came into view, and as Erik expertly rowed the boat up to the dock, he began singing merrily, his voice ringing through the stone vaults of the cellars beautifully.
Forgetting for a moment her disturbing discovery, Brielle felt her forehead pucker as she wondered at his unusually good mood. The masked man hopped out of the boat and alighted on the dock without a sound, tying off the ropes in the blink of an eye. When he turned toward her, his face shinning with an exhilaration she had never seen before, Brielle felt her heart skip a beat. Moving toward her quickly with the natural long-legged grace of a dancer, Erik flashed her a brilliant smile.
"What has got you into such a good mood?" Brielle asked a bit breathlessly, her heart picking up speed as Erik drew up directly in front of her.
"Oh, nothing. Just tossing out a bit of old baggage," he murmured, his eyes slipping not so subtly from her face to travel appreciatively down the length of her silk clad body.
A faint change came over his expression then, the slightest tightening of lips and narrowing of his eyes, that made Brielle's mouth go dry. "Hmm, sounds terribly boring. I…eh…I…"
Taking an unwavering step forward, the smile flickered back across his face, but now there was a dangerous longing in his windswept blue eyes in place of the laughter. "Yes, terribly boring," he agreed easily, raising a finger to briefly slide over her silk sleeve.
Gaping up at him wordlessly, Brielle felt a delighted shiver spread out from where his fingers touched her, the heat of his hand warming her skin until she was sure her blood would boil. Something had changed within him, she could see it as clearly as the flinty specks of midnight blue in his eyes. This was the first time he had purposely touched her without the slightest sign of uncertainty. There was a confidence lighting his face and guiding his actions now that had not been there before. The shadows within him seemed to have been burned away amongst the heat she saw practically radiating from every fiber of his being.
"This color suits you. I always knew you would look breathtaking in silk," he murmured as his fingers whispered up her sleeve to her shoulder, pausing at the swooping neckline where his eyes dropped to where his hand hovered. "This one has buttons in the front," he whispered as if to himself.
Biting her lower lip, Brielle could only nod, finding that her voice had completely deserted her. His gaze returning to her face, Erik raised his other hand to gently cup her flushed cheek. "I am sorry you had to wake up alone. I thought I would be back sooner."
"No need to apologize…no harm done."
"No…no harm…but you see for quite some time now I have wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you. I suppose that particular pleasure will have to be put off for a later time," he said quietly, the timbre of his voice lowering into a purr. The power of his tone sent a fine tremor through Brielle's body as her mind went completely blank; the memory of the drawing draining away until she thought of nothing but his eyes and his touch.
"Why wait?" she sighed, stepping toward the welcoming warmth of his body as he tilted her face up to his.
He brushed his lips over hers gently for a moment as if testing the waters, his eyes remaining open and watchful the whole time. When she reached up to curl her arms around his neck, it appeared to be all the encouragement he needed. The hand upon her face slid back to bury in her hair, loosening the bun enough to send several hair pins flying, and the world beneath her feet seemed to drop away forcing her to cling to his support for balance. Breaking away from her for a moment, Erik sucked in a deep breath, letting it out again on a low growl, the vibrations of the sound sending thrills of excitement through Brielle where she was pressed against him.
"You do not regret all of this do you?" Erik wondered aloud, his thumb smoothing reverently over the sensitive skin of her temple.
"Of course not," she replied instantly. "How could I?"
"Oh, you would be surprised how easy it would be," he murmured as he began plucking out the remaining pins from her hair. "To just turn away." Lowering his head, he pressed a warm kiss against her slightly parted lips. "Many times I have wanted to do just that. You are a terribly frightening woman, Bri." Running his lips up and over her cheek in a series of feather-light caresses, he smiled against her skin. "You can make a man forget his own mind. Had it been anyone besides you I think I would have never been able to leave the Phantom within me behind."
Tilting her head back, she gave into his bone melting ministrations with a sigh. "Such things you say, sir," she breathed. "One would think you are trying to seduce me."
Pausing near her ear, Erik rested his cheek against hers. "Good, because that is exactly what I am trying to do."
The urge to laugh at the arrogance she heard in his words bubbled up within Brielle, but Erik turned his head just then, his lips sliding possessively over hers, swallowing the happy sound. Eagerly returning his embrace, the laughter almost instantly faded, replaced now with rolling waves of searing heat. They stumbled when Erik's foot caught on the edge of her gown, nearly sending them both to the ground but neither one broke contact. Teasing her mouth open, Erik changed the mood of the kiss, giving it an impatient, desperate feeling.
His hands moved to her front, popping the small white buttons out of their stays until the lace of her chemise peeked out of the growing opening. Feeling a familiar tension begin to coil deep within her abdomen she slid his coat from his shoulders. At the touch of her hands upon him, Erik nearly ripped the last several buttons in his haste to slide the silk from her body. The wildness in his actions drove her beyond reason, every inch of her body burning where his hands roamed.
Nipping upon his bottom lip in a reflex, she tore at his shirt until it hung in tatters over his heaving chest. He growled ferally against her mouth pushing her backward until she rammed into the edge of the table. Ignoring the momentary flash of pain where wood met flesh, Brielle raked her nails down Erik's tensed back. Gripping her hips, he lifted her easily until she sat on the tabletop, her legs wrapping around his waist, dragging him forward until the evidence of his desire was pressed intimately against her. Lavishing open-mouthed kisses over his bare chest, she yanked the remains of his shirt free of his body. Circling her tongue wickedly around one of his nipples, she felt a burst of animalistic pride when he let out a guttural moan.
"God woman!" he exclaimed, his voice a rough and dangerous whisper in her ear. "You are going to drive me mad."
Flashing a searing come hither look up at him she slowly arched her back, bringing her face that much closer to his. "Do you want to stop then, maestro?" she purred, purposely accentuating the title with stirrings of blatant sexuality. A small gasp escaped Erik's throat at her phrasing, as if he couldn't manage to make any other sound. Licking her lower lip, she raised one hand to trace along his jaw, silently drawing his head down toward her.
"No? Then, by all means, conduct me."
A flash of undiluted lust burst brightly behind his eyes as he dragged her from the tabletop, crushing her slight, half-clothed body, to him. There was no time for words now as his lips and hands assaulted her from all sides. Struggling to keep up with the frenzied fervor of his attentions, Brielle hardly noticed as they stumbled their way out of the organ room and down the hall, knocking over knick knacks of all sorts in their haste to wade through the odd assortment of furniture in their way. Passing her room, they fell against the closed door of his, the force of their combined weight shaking the plank of wood in its hinges. Their hands were so busy grappling to bring bare skin to bare skin that it took several minutes for the door handle to finally be jimmied open.
Caught off guard by the sudden in swing of the door, they fell through the open space and onto the carpeted floor beyond. Landing on top of Erik's chest, Brielle stilled for a moment as she tried to catch her breath, her loose hair falling over her shoulder to brush over his bare skin. His eyes glittering through the shadows of the unlit room, Erik raised a hand and twined his fingers through her hair, gently pulling her downward as he wound a lock about his hand. The frenzied pace slowed then, like the fleeting calm before a storm, but the intensity did not fade from their expressions as they studied one another. Running her hands up the length of his body, Brielle marveled at the strength that lay just under her touch, the corded muscles of his torso shuddering when her lips followed the path of her fingers.
Working her way up to his face, she touched the bottom edge of his mask as he reached behind her to begin unlacing the back of her cream-colored corset. Pausing for a moment, Brielle raised her head and frowned. Tracing a finger along the white leather she sighed. "Take this off for me…"
So intent was he on the task of loosening her corset, it took Erik a moment to register her words. "What?" he asked blandly, too distracted by the swell of her cleavage to pay much attention.
Tapping a finger against the mask to get his attention, she repeated herself. "Take it off for me."
The characteristic crease appeared between his brows, signifying his unease as he stared searchingly up at her, the desire warring with the doubt behind his eyes. "Brielle," he moaned. "I do not think…"
"I want to feel your face under my lips…your whole face…every plane and valley until I know it as well as my own," she whispered in his ear, feeling his body tense in reaction to her breathy words. "I want you to see me without its shadow. I want you to be inside me knowing that I accept every inch of you without fear. Is that too much to ask?"
His mouth fell open slightly as he studied her with hot, hooded eyes. Then slowly he raised his hand to his face, and, after taking a deep breath, pulled the covering free. The shadows of the room limned his features in a silvery half light, softening the horrific visage on the right side of his face and highlighting the hard, rugged planes of the left. After the initial shock of seeing him without the immobile frown of the mask, Brielle felt a smile slide across her lips. It was so odd to see the play of emotions over his entire face that she felt suddenly light-headed.
Leaning forward, she placed a tender kiss on his cheek, just under his sagging right eye, feeling the heat of his flush burning against her mouth. "That is better now," she murmured, one hand sliding downward to unhook his belt. Jerked into motion once again by her touch, Erik dropped his mask onto the floor next to his head, a faint expression of relief flickering across his face. Pulling the sagging corset off, Brielle tossed her hair over her shoulder to get it out of her face.
"Should we not retire to the bed?" Erik rasped as he slid the white-lace-trimmed sleeve of her chemise from her shoulder.
"Why waste the time?" Brielle asked as she shrugged out of the last of her clothing and began unbuttoning his trousers. He opened his mouth in automatic question but forgot his words when she pulled his pants off, leaving nothing between them but air shivering with anticipation. Biting her bottom lip, Brielle didn't leave him time to wonder before she lowered herself onto him, moving instinctively when he raised startled hands to her hips.
They moved together slowly at first, too caught up with every burning sensation to think beyond the delicious tension pulling tighter and tighter within them. But then the pace increased as their blood quickened and their patience thinned. Arching her back in the darkness, Brielle let herself go; falling over the edge of the precipice Erik had so quickly brought her to. Dimly she felt Erik follow her over, moaning her name into the silence of the room.
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Dozing in a pleasant haze of euphoria, Brielle felt a pair of strong arms wrap protectively about her waist. Opening her eyes she stretched lazily, trying to figure out just how long she had been lying next to Erik upon the floor. My word, we must have worn each other out terribly. Turning her gaze upward, she met Erik's focused blue-eyed stare with a smile.
"How long have you been staring at me like that?" she asked lightly, pressing a kiss against the curve of his shoulder.
"I told you before how I have wondered what it would be like to watch you awaken."
"And has your curiosity been assuaged?"
One corner of his mouth twitched up as he shook his head. "I think the matter deserves further study. I may be satisfied in a few years or so."
Sucking in a breath, Brielle tried not to read too much into his statement, even though she desperately wanted to imagine the rest of her life with him in it. Looking away, afraid he would see the keen longing in her eyes, Brielle forced herself to relax. "You presume a great deal, sir," she said airily, teasing him in order to distract from her moment of weakness.
His chest shook with laughter as he shook his head at her words, the right side of his face no longer seeming so fierce as the humor animated his deformity. "Do I? We will see, I suppose."
Falling silent then, they both simply listened to the sound of each other's breathing, content for the moment to just be next to each other. I could stay like this forever. Feeling her eyelids begin to droop sleepily again, Brielle stirred herself. Without conscious thought she wondered what Aria had been doing since she last saw her. Quickly the wondering turned to worry as the Irishwoman tried to remember exactly how long she had been apart from her daughter. Sweet Mary, I don't even know how long it has been. There is no sun here to judge the days…the poor babe…how long has she been without me?
Sitting up slightly at the thought, Brielle worried her lip between her teeth. "Erik, I think I should return upstairs soon," she said, voicing her concerns quickly.
"What? Why?" he asked, his voice taking on the same edge he always got when he was unpleasantly startled.
"Well I was just thinking that Conner has been taking care of Aria for a while now…and there is no telling what terror the two of them have been getting into. And I don't know what story he told to excuse my absence in the first place. I will be lucky if Carlotta doesn't fire me after all this."
Irritated lines bracketed Erik's mouth as he listened to her prattling on. "Do not concern yourself about Carlotta. You really do not have to work for her anymore anyway, which works out fine since I have never cared for how she speaks to you."
"Of course I still have to work. Don't be silly. I do not have enough saved to simply stop working."
Giving a dismissive shrug, Erik stretched an arm over his head in order to snag a throw blanket that was folded on the floor a couple feet away. "I am not being silly, as you say. Why do you need to slave away when you and Aria can stay here with me?"
His question dropped into silence like a stone down a dry well as Brielle tried to process what he had just said. He wants us all to live down here, together? Here! Even though Erik pulled the blanket up and over them a shiver shook over her skin. Looking around at her dim surroundings, she remembered what it had felt like to be alone in this place; without Erik the darkness and the grey stone walls had taken on an entirely sinister air. Just the thought of ever being left there on her own again made her feel ill.
"Do you really think that she would be happy down here, Erik?" Brielle asked gently.
"Why wouldn't she?"
"She is a child. The dark scares her sometimes and down here there is nothing but darkness."
Taking a breath as if to answer Erik closed his mouth again without saying a word. Disappointment darkened his face as he turned his head away from her. "No, you are right. This is no place for a family," he murmured, his mouth forming a hard line as his eyes flickered about the room. "You both deserve more than this place."
Laying her head back down into the crook of his shoulder, Brielle closed her eyes. Since he had so casually spoken of the future she likewise dared to speak of her hopes. "I won't have to work here forever. Eventually we can leave this place and find somewhere else…somewhere better."
Some strange dark mood seemed to seize control of him then, making his eyes sharpen as he held her closer. "If only I could help you in that endeavor. I have no skills outside of this place to earn an honest wage and my past bars me from showing my face here," he mumbled to himself so quietly Brielle wasn't sure if she heard him correctly. "That is what a man is supposed to do…support his family."
"What on earth are you talking about?"
Shaking his head Erik threw off the odd mood and raised a hand to brush her cheek softly. "Never mind, I will take you back up tomorrow." Not trusting his apparent calm but having no other choice but to accept it, Brielle merely nodded her head, and snuggling closer to his side she stared off worriedly across the room. Why do I have the terrible feeling that things are not going to be as smooth as I thought?