"As long as it takes. I won't hound you about it. Promise," she said gently.
She took one of his hands and guided it to the chain hanging around her neck. "The Persian coin you gave me. I had it made into a necklace."
She squeezed his fingers lightly. "I'm glad you're not upset with me anymore."
"I wasn't angry with you, Christine. How could I be?" he said, and shrugged. "I'm not used to innocent questions asked out of friendliness. Quite the opposite. I over-reacted badly, for which I once again beg your forgiveness." He leaned into the area between her neck and shoulder and sniffed. Sweet. She was so sweet. "What is that perfume you are wearing?"
She was slightly surprised by his question. "It's actually my favorite rose scent. A little on the expensive side, but it's my one indulgence. It's called Dazzling. Do you like it?" She could feel the cool smoothness of his mask as he nuzzled her.
"Mm, yes I do." He looked for a long moment into her blue eyes. The yellow glow of his, always caused her a slight shock. They were strange, but she was getting used to them. A little. "I'm going to miss you when I leave here."
With a sigh, she pulled away from him and sat down on the porch swing. After a slight hesitation, Erik joined her. They were quiet for a while, listening to the rain drumming on the roof, the sound of the thunder rolling away into silence until the next flash of lightning brought more rumbles.
Finally she spoke. "The apartment is paid up until the sixth of July. Soon after that, I imagine."
"Yes."
He looked at her somberly for a moment, then took her hand in his. "I am not a good man, Christine," he said heavily. "And I have never worried about that fact until now."
He cupped her chin in his hand and kissed her with all the gentleness of which he was capable.
When she recovered her breath, she leaned her head against his shoulder. "Oh, but I think you are a good man. More than you give yourself credit for. Maybe you've never had the opportunity to prove it."
"Perhaps," was all he said.
Before she could stop herself, "What about your family? Are you close to any of them?"
He said nothing for a moment, and Christine thought that once again, she was guilty of inserting a foot into her mouth. But at last... "I was an only child. My father died before I was born, and my mother was horrified at what she had birthed. As I've already told you; she had no use for me, ugly as I was. Needless to say, I left home when I was twelve and I have been alone ever since."
That revelation startled her. Twelve years old! She briefly tried to imagine what it would have been like for her to have left her home and father at that age. And couldn't. She wanted to ask him more about his life after he left his mother, but mindful of his distaste for the subject, she instead asked him something she'd been curious about.
"Erik, how old are you?"
His laugh wasn't pleasant. "Thirty-eight...much too old for you."
"No you're not. I'm twenty-two, nearly twenty-three," she said haughtily.
He laughed again, a sound that suffused her with warmth, but this time it was lighter and free of bitterness. "Practically in your dotage, ma petite." Reluctantly he disengaged himself from her hands and stood up. "I think it is time you went inside, yes?"
She got to her feet and looked up at him, not wanting to go in just yet, but nodding anyway. "Yes. Good night. Sleep well."
She stood up on her tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. He bent down, putting his hands on her shoulders and deepened the kiss, being drawn back to her quite willingly.
"Good night...mon amour."
The last was said so quietly, it went unheard by Christine. He released her and waited until she went inside, then quickly and silently made his way up to his apartment. Opening the door, he sensed a presence in the room. He looked at the easy chair...where Nadir Khan was seated. He was surprised to see his friend, but as usual hid it well.
"Daroga," he greeted him. "Was your information so very important that you needed to deliver it in person?"
He walked into the room and went to the tiny kitchen where he got two glasses and a bottle of Merlot. He poured them each a glass, then pulled out the desk chair, straddling it backward and faced the Persian. He took a drink, all the while observing his friend.
"It is interesting I'm sure, but there was no real reason to remain in Paris any longer." He took a sip of his own wine, rolling it around in his mouth.
"Where are you staying?"
"I have a room in town near the college."
Erik nodded, then got down to the matter at hand. "What did you find out about de Chagny?"
"He spent six years with the Navy Seals. Served with valor, I might add, and after quite a bit of action, returned home and took part in the family business."
"Which is?"
"They own a chain of jewelry stores in the northeast, mostly in Pennsylvania, but some also in Maryland as well. They have a reputable name for themselves and are very lucrative." Nadir stood up and walked to the window, feeling exhausted all of a sudden. It had been a long day. "The younger de Chagny is becoming more involved in the business also."
Erik's eyes flared at the mention of Raoul. "I do not care to hear about that idiot boy, daroga, if you please. What do you know about the elder de Chagny?"
He was becoming impatient. Whether it was with Nadir or himself, he could not say. He needed to focus on the job at hand, but his thoughts always rebounded to Christine. It was not like him at all.
The Persian cleared his throat, sensing a clear dislike for Raoul de Chagny and curious as to why. "Five years ago, Philippe de Chagny became a mercenary. He might have had a specific reason for doing so. There can be quite a bit of money made in that line of work, but I doubt if that was the only reason."
"Highly dangerous as well. Why leave his family and a successful business to go back to a life lived on the edge of a knife, hm?"
"La noblesse."
"Excusez-moi?"
"The de Chagnys were at one time, members of the French nobility...la noblesse. They came from the ancien regime- a very old and proud family. Of course, that means nothing in this country, but if the title would have continued, Philippe would have been the Comte de Chagny." He paused and rubbed the back of his neck.
Erik stayed silent waiting for the Persian to get to the point. Knowing that the de Chagnys were of noble blood did little for him. In fact, his dislike only grew. "The point is?"
"As you know, Erik, the blood bath in your country that was the peasant revolt against the aristocracy, ended the use of titles until 1852, when they were restored. But the nobility in France was essentually over and carries no real weight now. However, anyone with a legitimate claim to a title can seek to have it confirmed by the minister of justice in an official decree. Philippe filed a petition to get back his title. His claim was denied. Being an American probably didn't help him very much.
Erik's mouth quirked. He set his wine glass down and got up. Pacing around the room, he finally stopped and regarded his friend.
"So. What you are trying to imply is that Philippe de Chagny was so enraged at the loss of the family title; a title I might add, which means next to nothing, that he is willing to aid in the destruction of the French government in retaliation? How absurd!"
"No, Erik. I'm not implying that specifically, but he may have aligned himself with a terrorist group with much more grandiose plans. His claim being turned down was only the catalyst for him. The money he would receive for the assassination of the president would be his ultimate motivation."
The Persian paused and looked significantly at Erik. "I truly believe we have found the identity of the assassin."
Erik snorted. "How can you be so certain he is the one?"
"Because it all fits together. De Chagny's military training, not to mention his mercenary background. There were witnesses to his anger at the denial of his claim by the French government. And we know he will go to great lengths to acquire money. He is aggressive and enjoys taking significant risks."
Nadir sighed and looked blearily at his friend. "Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. And Americans, I think, are easily impressed with titles since they have none, you see. Philippe is aware that his ancestry is noble, therefore he wants to be known as the Comte which he considers his birthright.
"Ever since he was a child, his father probably filled his head with stories he was told in turn. Not so difficult to believe that his resentment is leading him to go too far. Men have killed for far less. At least consider de Chagny as someone to watch, Erik. And now that I'm here, we'll be better able to do so."
Erik looked at the Persian dubiously. "Why would he try to harm Chr- Mademoiselle Daae? It makes no sense, daroga."
"There is no proof that he did. What happened to Ms. Daae was in all probability a robbery attempt and nothing more."
Reauchard shook his head, still not convinced. "You sound exactly like that idiot Moncharmin. "Very well," he said, and sighed heavily, "we will consider him as a possibility. And now, mon ami...good night."
He ushered the Persian to the door.
"How is the lovely Ms. Daae?"
"None of your business."
"And a good evening to you, my friend." Nadir smirked and walked away.
Christine awoke early on the morning of July 1st and stretched languidly. She lay there thinking of her evening with Erik. She shivered, remembering his arms holding her close. Dancing with him, and the sweetness of it. She wasn't looking forward to the time when there would only be memories, but he wasn't here forever, was he? The thought depressed her more than it should have for such a short acquaintance. Maybe that's all they'd ever have together...a mutual attraction, some very interesting conversations. Kisses. Mm...don't forget those. But come on...he's not exactly your usual type, now is he, Christine? Or any girl's, for that matter.
She slammed the door on that annoying voice, and getting out of bed, padded into the bathroom for a shower. She was working in town today and it was bound to be busy at the store. After all, this was the anniversary of the first day's battle and there were a lot of people spending the weekend in Gettysburg.
She showered and dressed in capris and a white cami. She hurried into a pair of sandals, ran a brush through her hair and left the room. After a quick breakfast, she went out the front door and nearly collided with Erik. He put his arms out to catch her.
His hands had closed gently on her shoulders, and reluctantly he released her. "Christine! Good morning. May I introduce a colleague of mine to you?"
He turned and that's when she noticed the tall man standing beside him.
"Christine Daae...Nadir Khan."
Christine looked at the man in front of her. He was older than Erik by about ten years, she guessed. He appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent, but with startling green eyes in his swarthy face.
Nadir in turn, studied the woman who had stolen his friend's heart. She was pretty and petite with a heart shaped face and slender build. But more than that, she had a gentle and friendly look about her. Her blue eyes were soft and kind. Quite the opposite of the Phantom.
Erik with a pretty woman. Allah. Erik with any woman was a shock.
Nadir took her hand. "It's very good to meet you, Ms. Daae."
"Please...call me Christine."
"Of course. Likewise, Christine. Nadir to you."
Erik got her attention again, annoyed by the Persian's admiring glances her way. "May I see you later this evening?"
"Yes. I have to work today until six, but later will be fine."
As they parted, Nadir couldn't help but notice the tender looks the pair were giving each other. Erik he could understand. Christine was an attractive young woman, and the Persian could clearly see that his friend was head over heels in love for the very first time. Hard.
But Christine was not so easy. Erik was not the average looking man by any means; in fact many would consider him to be frightening. Of course, there was much more to Erik Reauchard than just his lack of male sex appeal. He was a very intelligent man, nearly a genius with a wealth of special talents and an arresting voice that just begged to be heard.
He was also a bonafide killer.
Most women couldn't get past his aura of menace, and his masked face to see what lay beneath. Perhaps Ms. Daae was special, simply because she could look beyond his grim appearance. His friend had lost his heart to her. This he knew without a doubt.
"She's lovely, Erik. I can easily see why you're so taken with her."
He said nothing, but Nadir knew his friend as well as anyone could know him. Erik was pleased that the Persian realized Christine's charms, but any closer to the young lady, and he would feel the bite of his friend's wrath. Erik always had a possessive nature with anything belonging to him. How much worse would it be with the little Daae?
He got behind the wheel of his rental, while Erik slid into the passenger seat. They were headed for the Gettysburg battlefield- the area of the third day's battle. The place where the French president would give his speech on his ancestor, and the famous cyclorama painting of Pickett's charge. Erik was leaving nothing to chance when the president gave his speech, therefore he was going to look at all angles of the area. He was if anything very thorough. They would be at the site until mid-afternoon.
Gettysburg was busy just as Christine thought it would be. Cars and travel trailers moved slowly along Baltimore St., while tourists strolled the sidewalks in the summer heat, visiting the shops and restaurants scattered nearly everywhere in the famous town. Timeless Treasures had their share of customers. Both her and Meg were kept busy nearly the entire day. They each took a half hour break, but for the most part never stopped until Lillian came in at six.
The two women walked out together heading for their cars. Christine glanced at her friend. "Hey...follow me home. You can have supper with us, okay?"
"Sure, why not? My mother probably isn't expecting me home yet anyway. Besides, Mamma Valerius is a better cook than my mom."
Christine snorted at her friend. "Don't let your mother ever hear you say that. She prides herself on her lasagna."
They arrived back at the house and were making their way to the kitchen for iced tea, when Christine spied Erik and Nadir in the parlor. Erik stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in and approached her. Meg took in her first sight of Erik and her jaw dropped. He was very tall, and in Meg's opinion, thin as a spaghetti noodle. She took a closer look surreptitiously. Make that a spaghetti noodle wearing a mask, she amended.
Christine glanced at her friend and frowned. "Uh...close your mouth, Megan before the flies get in. He doesn't enjoy being gawked at," she muttered sideways.
"Sorry." Meg whispered back.
Christine introduced everyone, then suggested the patio for iced tea. Erik was having a hard time looking away from her. To him, she always appeared fresh and beautiful.
"Thank you, but instead, would you and Ms. Giry care to join myself and Mr. Khan for dinner at a restaurant of your choice?"
He looked hopefully at Christine, silently willing her to agree. Christine looked at Meg who shrugged and nodded. "Fine with me."
Christine turned back to Erik and smiled. "We accept, messieurs. I have just the place too. The Cashtown Inn has good food and is fairly quiet, even with all the crowds this time of year. Just allow Meg and myself to freshen up then we can leave."
Erik gave her a slight bow before the two women left the room.
Meg thought his manners different, but kind of cool. Old World European maybe? But who bows anymore? Way too many movies for that dude. She looked thoughtfully at her friend. "Um, Erik is certainly interesting."
Christine sighed softly. "I'll never be able to forget him."
"That makes two of us," she muttered under her breath.
"Did you say something, Meggie?"
Meg hacked a cough and walked a little ahead of her friend. "Nope, not me."