"Christine, forgive me, but--- but what of the Vicomte? Do you.....
did you ever love him?" He
pressed her fingers convulsively, his eyes downcast.
"No, I did not," Christine said firmly. "Darling, the Vicomte de Chagny
was simply a childhood
friend, and means nothing more to me than that. When he came to visit
me recently, after a
performance, I was happy to see him again, but only as my friend."
She raised their clasped hands, and laid his on the pretty column of her neck, smiling as she did so.
"Raoul is a young man of great privilege and wealth, but very much indulged
and rather immature. I
could never have tender feelings towards him, save as the little boy
I once knew. That is all."
Christine cradled his face, and said, "You are my love, and always will
be. Always and forever.
Please say you believe me, my Angel."
Erik said simply, "I do."
**********
"Oh, I am so happy - so very, very happy!" Christine flung her arms
around Erik's neck and pressed
her soft lips to each cheek, his chin, down his jawline and into his
neck.
Erik shivered with pleasure, and pulled her close to him, laughing joyously
as she continued to rain
kisses all over his face. He kissed her pert nose, and she kissed his
in return; then he buried his face
in her soft hair, inhaling its delicate perfume.
**********
Slowly, very, very slowly, an incredulous realisation began to dawn
in Erik's mind. Christine had
kissed his nose. He was inhaling the perfume of her hair.
No-- no, impossible. His imagination was playing tricks. How foolish!
As if..... He swayed slightly,
and Christine looked up quickly, her eyes questioning.
"Darling, are you not well?" she asked with concern. "Come, sit down
beside me." She led him to the
sofa and they sat down together, Christine putting her arms around
him. She saw that Erik was
looking a little pale, and put up a hand to caress his cheek.
"What is it, my love?", she asked anxiously.
"I--I'm -- am I going mad?" he asked in a faint voice. "I th--thought
I c--could feel a-- a nose, h---
here, on my f---." His fingers had crept up to his face and tentatively
touched the deformed nose.
Suddenly, he leapt to his feet, snatching his hand away as if he had
touched red-hot coals.
Christine, thoroughly alarmed, jumped up and flung her arms round him.
"Erik, my darling love, what
is it? What is wrong. Are you in pain?" The frantic questions tumbled
out of her mouth as Erik stood
in her embrace, a look of utter shock upon his face.
"My Angel, tell me this. Is there---? Do I--- have a nose?", he gasped,
holding on tightly to her
waist.
Christine gave a puzzled little laugh. "But of course you have a nose,
my Erik. It is a very attractive
nose and I adore it. B-but why do you ask---?"
Erik again brought his hand up to touch his face. His disbelieving fingers
came into contact once
more with - a nose! "I--I don't understand---", he stammered, "I have
never had a nose before."
Exploring fingers carried on over the rest of his face. He could feel
firm, smooth skin on his cheeks
and lips; his chin and jawline strongly-etched; his eyes level under
straight brows.
Christine watched him, and as she did, she recalled her dream. That
wonderful dream where the
skull-like features of the Phantom merged with the face of the beautiful
Archangel Michael.
**********
Excitedly, she said to Erik, "Oh, my darling, I really do believe that
our dreams are coming true! You
dreamed of being a normal man, and I dreamed of seeing the face of
my beloved Angel of Music.
The Angel and the Phantom, although I did not know it before, are one
and the same man. Now the
Phantom really is an Angel - my Angel of Music!"
Erik sat down again quickly. His legs were shaking. In fact, his whole
body was shaking with
excitement.
"Christine, my sweet life, are you telling me I have a face?", he asked, his voice husky, tremulous.
Christine threw herself down beside him on the sofa and hugged him tightly.
"Yes, yes, yes - and it is
truly the most handsome face I have ever seen!" Christine laughed joyously,
throwing back her head
as her delicious peal of laughter rang out.
Erik's hands once more sought his face, a look of absolute wonder in
his eyes. And what was this?
His hands were on his scalp, feeling a mass of thick, strong hair!
"A-- and hair --- I have hair as well as a f-- face?"
Christine's eyes danced. "You have the most superb head of hair, my
love! It is thick and dark, with
hints of autumn leaves! " She put both hands into his hair and gave
it a few gentle little tugs. "There!"
she said gleefully, "feel how strong it is! Oh! and what do I see here?
A touch of silver at each
temple - how very distinguished! "
He looked at her enchanting face, lit by an impish smile as she played
with his hair. "This is simply
incredible!", he gasped, and then recalled how the wig had felt a little
tight as he put it over his skull
when he had dressed. If there had been hair on his head then, he had
not noticed because he had not
expected to feel hair.
Erik felt a huge well of bubbling, delighted laughter rising from his
toes, up through his pulsating,
vibrantly alive body and into his throat. He pulled Christine to her
feet and danced her round the
room, knocking over the organ stool and scattering papers about the
floor. He swung her by her
slender waist high in the air, their laughter ringing out again and
again until, breathless, Erik tripped
over a discarded shoe and fell on the floor, Christine toppling down
onto him.
*****
Suddenly, their laughter died in their throats as they stared at each
other. Christine blushed in shy
confusion at the expression in Erik's glowing dark eyes. The lean length
of him beneath her was
causing the most delicious tremors all through her own body.
"Christine, angel," he breathed, "I love you so much." She gave him
her lips, and he drowned in her
loveliness. The kiss deepened into passion, setting their blood aflame
and their senses burning with
desire.
Christine felt a sensuous languor seep into her bones, turning them
to liquid. Erik's heart was
pounding as the soft weight of her body melted into his.
She would have given herself to him there and then, for she was intensely
aware of the hunger in
Erik, and the urgent response of her own body was something she had
never before experienced.
But, with an almighty effort, he forced himself to gently put her from
him, and whispered, "Darling,
darling child, this is not how it should be for us. I love you and
want you so much, but I want to vow
my love to you in a church, before God."
He sat up, and gathered her to him. Kissing her forehead, he held her
close for a long moment, giving
them both time to calm their racing hearts. Then, rising to his feet,
he pulled her to him.
They looked at each other with deep, unspoken words of love. Christine
smiled at him through a
shimmer of tears; he kissed each lid, tasting the dew-sweet of those
tears.
"My own beloved angel", he whispered, and then, falling on one knee,
he took her small hands in his.
Looking up at her, he asked, simply, "Will you marry me?"
Christine choked on a little sob. "Oh yes, my darling, yes."
He pressed his lips on both her hands, and then rising, spread his long
fingers on either side of her
face. He kissed her tenderly; then, lifting the small golden cross
she wore on a fine chain around her
neck, he brought it to his lips with quiet reverence.
"Merci, mon Dieu."
**********
They stood together in peace and serenity, clasped in each other's arms.
Christine's head was resting
on Erik's chest, and he gently stroked her curls.
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." He whispered into her hair.
"I love thee to the
depths and breadth and height my soul can reach."
"Oh my darling, how very beautiful", Christine said dreamily. Warm fingers
lifted her chin, turning her
face to his.
"My love, if this is all a dream, may I never wake up."
Such a radiance lit her eyes that he held his breath at their sapphire
brilliance. "This is real, my Angel
- we are real, and true, and --- and perfect!" She laughed, and the
lilting sound filled his heart with
music.
He hugged her tightly to him, and she buried her face in his throat.
Little butterfly kisses upon his
neck, his jawline, and whispered words in his ear. After a moment,
he realised what she was saying;
he threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"I'm hungry, my Angel. I am very, very hungry!" She was whimpering playfully.
"We have not yet
had breakfast. I shall fall down in a faint of starvation soon!"
Erik, still laughing, tickled her under her chin. "Then, my treasure,
we had better do something about
feeding you!".
Leading her towards the table, he said, "If Mademoiselle would set the
table with the china she will
find in yonder cabinet, then Sir will repair immediately to the pantry
and cook some eggs!".
Christine planted a kiss on his ear, then whirled in a swirl of pretty
skirts towards the cabinet. Erik
leapt into the pantry, and soon she smelled the delicious aroma of
coffee brewing. She busied herself
setting the table for breakfast, admiring the delicate china, singing
happily part of an aria from an
opera which she had once enjoyed in the company of her beloved Papa.
Erik came to lean against the doorpost for a moment, watching her. She
glanced up, and blushed
rosily at the expression in his dark eyes.
A half-smile tilted one corner of his mouth; her heart did a wild somersault.
The smile widened into a wicked grin and he winked at her; she blew
him a kiss. He mouthed, "I
love you", and went back into the pantry, returning shortly with a
tray of steaming herb omelettes, a
bread basket and a pot of coffee.
Seating themselves at table, Erik leaned over and kissed his Angel's
soft lips, and then poured the
coffee. Christine handed him a crisp roll, and they ate their breakfast
with relish. Afterwards, replete,
they sat close together on the sofa. Erik poured them both a little
wine, and they toasted their future
together.
**********
Go to Part 8 of Dream of Angels
by Erika Shadow.