Chapt. 11

I hate him. I really hate him. What a damn snake!

Elaine was practically combusting with anger. It made her shake so much, she nearly dropped Erik's dinner tray. She stopped briefly at a table in the foyer.

She had just finished talking with her father about his discussion with Montague. Her father spared her no details. Dr. Dyson told her about Montague's plan to hold the fate of the clinic over her father's head, his plan to rise to be Duke, his plan to marry her and how 'their children would rule Luxembourg'.

Just the thought of his greasy paws touching me again makes me want to vomit.

She knew very well Montague did not even care about her. She was just a challenge at best and a pawn he wanted to claim. A pawn with benefits, from his perspective. She gagged on her own saliva.

He would have to beat me, tie me up and rape me for me to go near his bed! Then again, from what I see, he would.

Elaine shivered with that realization. She had no desire to tangle with the man.

Calm down girl, he's gone now. Stop thinking about him. Let's go see Erik, my mysterious Erik.

She spent a few minutes calming herself down before heading up the stairs. She was enjoying seeing the fruits of her labors; this man they had rescued was turning out to be rather interesting.

About an hour ago, Angelique and Elaine had been talking in her room while Angelique was busy freshening up; a long drawn out ordeal filled with powders and perfumes and finery, and a lot of looking at herself in the mirror. Angelique was a touch vain. It could take hours. Elaine eventually excused herself to do her much more succinct version of 'freshening up'.

Just before going downstairs, Elaine had checked Angelique's room and found her sleeping. No doubt she was napping after her long, annoying carriage ride with her brother. So Elaine figured she would take that time to visit Erik.

Elaine knocked on his door gently.

"Hello Erik." She said softly, pushing open the door. Erik was by the window, leaning over a journal on the table.

"Elaine? I thought you were busy with your friend." A pleasant smile showed his surprise and happiness at her presence. He did not think he would see her again today. He was so taken with her that he forgot to shut the journal.

"Who, Angelique? She is taking a nap right now. So I thought I would come and bring your dinner in the meantime." She paused for a moment. "Sorry for the ruckus earlier," she said walking over to the table.

"Why are you sorry? From what I heard, you did not cause it."

I guess in a way you did, he thought, remembering that things did not get out of hand until she was mentioned.

She set the tray down gently and glanced over at his journal. No words were there, just a beautiful line drawing of a face that was almost finished. The soft eyes stared at her. They were her eyes. The central features; the nose, mouth and eyes were intense and picture perfect. The hair and clothing surrounding her face were softer, shaded and incomplete. She reached out to pick up the journal to look at it more closely.

"May I?" She said, with a small smile that showed her wonder. Erik nodded.

Erik gulped down the lump in his throat. He felt caught red handed. He could only hope that his feelings for her were not visible in his drawing. He had been thinking about her, and it felt so natural to sketch her image. He looked up at her face as she cradled the journal in her hand. Her expression was that of awe. As she looked closely at the drawing, she moved her hand to touch the gentle sweep of her neck on the page.

How detailed, how perfect.

"Be careful Elaine. Please, don't touch it. I think it may still be l wet." He warned gently.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to ruin this. Oh Erik, this is exquisite. So… you are an artist?" she queried.

"I would hardly call myself an artist by one work alone, but, I don't know," he said truthfully. None of his nightmares or visions had given him the impression that art was a big part of his former life. The music sounding through his head, on the other hand…

"I have seen a fair amount of art in my time, Erik. Just this little picture shows much talent, my dear," she said, surprised at how comfortable it felt to address him in such a familiar fashion. He smiled in response.

"I opened the book to down to write something, but started to draw instead. I guess I have done it, drawing, a bit before. The lines just flowed effortlessly. It was as if my hand knew exactly what to do. All I needed to do was give the mental picture."

"Well it is lovely. I thank you for making me your first subject here in Capellen." She leaned over and planted a sweet kiss on his forehead, resting her hand on his shoulder.

She lingered before him, her hand on his shoulder. He smiled back at her as her fingers played gently with the hair on his neck.

So,he is a linguist, and possibly an artist. Definitely intelligent. Definitely interesting.

The soft kiss on his face burned into him. As she lingered before him, he fought back a urge to touch her. He suddenly felt like pulling her into his arms. She was standing so close…He gasped a little, as his eyes floated down her body; his eyes traced her neck, her breasts, her small waist, the gentle curve of her hips. He looked back up at her face quickly. He did not want her to think he was ogling her.

"You, eh-em, are welcome." He said, his voice cracking a little.

She sensed what she thought was discomfort on his part. His body had tensed up against her hand. She interpreted his movement it as her actions having made him uncomfortable. Showing affection openly was just part of what made her Elaine. She could not help it, really. But she did know not everyone was so inclined, to appreciate that kind of openness. Not everyone liked to be touched.

"I did not mean to offend you, Erik," she said, as she backed away. He suddenly looked disappointed. She looked at him questioningly.

Then what is it? She thought, a little frustrated by his response.

"No, Elaine, you certainly did not offend me," he said, reaching out to capture what she had withdrawn. He held her delicate hand in his own rough one, his thumb slowly stroking it. He closed his eyes as she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

On the contrary my lady, you just sent my spirit flying through the roof, and my mind to somewhere…intimate. He opened his eyes, staring at their hands, wrapped together.

"I think it is just that I am not used to being touched. I think am not used to being around people…or having people want to stand close to me…" His voice trailed off to a whisper. "or kissing me."

His face twisted at his realization and a shot of pain went through his chest. He was feeling just a small inkling of the pain that his solitude had caused him all his life. He bent his head forward and closed his eyes, trying to fight the sadness that was welling up inside.

Elaine held her breath, her heart breaking with the thought that he had rarely been touched so tenderly. The evidence of how he usually was touched flashed in her mind: the extensive scars, all over his body.

What kind of life have you been living, Erik? Your pain is so easy to see.

Instinctively, Elaine walked behind him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, one hand patting his chest as she resting her head against his. She knew very well how healing a simple touch could be. Human touch, she knew, was as essential as water to one's emotional wellbeing. Erik gasped silently, his heart swelling.

"I hope you don't mind. I like to be affectionate. Just let me know if it bothers you." She whispered in his ear, rocking him gently.

"You will never hear a complaint from me, Elaine." He whispered, placing his hand on hers. He took a deep, cleansing breath. The feelings of loneliness all but disappeared as he was encircled by her arms. She held on to him for what felt like an eternity. When she felt his breathing become regular and comfortable she walked around to face him.

"Do you want to get out of this room for a while?" She asked with a smile. His glance was peaceful and sedate.

"I thought you would never ask."

They managed to make it down the spiral staircase intact, Erik balancing on his one good leg and hopping down the stairs with his arm draped over Elaine. She was slender but strong, holding him around his waist tightly with one arm and holding the rail with the other. She had brought down the crutches before their descent. Despite the cramping and the pain shooting in his arm and leg, he still managed a smile at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well, that was difficult." He laughed weakly, working his way onto the crutches. As they walked, and limped, through the foyer, Erik stopped short, staring with wide eyes through the open doors into the parlor. Elaine turned to him.

"What is it, Erik?" She asked. Erik looked as if he had just seen an old friend. She looked to where his gaze was fixed. In the parlor was the imposing figure of a large, grand piano. "Do you play?" she said, walking him towards the parlor.

"I think so." he said, feeling a strange sensation come over him as he slid onto the bench. Elaine sat on his left side, the side of his injured arm.

"Father used to play a lot with my mother, I hear. She died when I was born. She loved music; she was a pianist, cellist, and a violinist. I learned how to play the piano when I was young but I stopped practicing a while ago. No one has played this piano in a while…" She stopped, her face in awe as his hand flew up and down the keys, barely touching, playing rapid, perfect major and minor scales and chords. Her jaw dropped in amazement.

"It is a bit out of tune…" Erik said, wincing at a note that was slightly off. "I think I could tune it later with the proper tools." He stopped playing after the noticed the shocked look on her face. "What is it, Elaine?" He said.

"It is just that I have never seen someone play like that, like a maestro." She looked into his green eyes.

So, you are a musician too. Who the hell are you Erik? Elaine thought.