THE SEDUCTION OF GABRIEL STEWART Read online

  “Claire,” Erik began, “I had a thought last night which I think we should discuss.” He paused, as though deciding how to proceed.

  “Go on,” I replied, looking up at him.

  “Would you consider leaving France?”

  “I would go anywhere with you, Erik. Why do you ask?”

  “Just a thought at this point, my love.”

  I sensed that this was not the entire truth, and said so.

  He sighed then. “Am I so transparent?”

  Erik reached over to the table where he had left a newspaper.

  “I purchased this yesterday when I went into town. I think you should read this.” Erik indicated a segment in the agony column as he handed me the paper. I read, astonished, at the item my cousin Francois had entered offering a reward for information that would allow him to find me.

  “I don’t believe in running away, Erik,” I said.

  “Nor, my love, do I. However, I cannot like this after all that we saw in your dressing room. It was this newspaper item, more than anything else, that kept me wakeful all last night. Wakeful, Claire, with worry.” His eyes were bright with emotion.

  I shuddered, remembering the scene Erik and I had witnessed through the two-way mirror.

  “There is only one thing I wish to do right now,” I said. “And that is to have a bath. Other decisions can wait.”

  I went into the kitchen and pumped cold water into kettles for boiling. It had been a long while since I’d done this chore myself; I was quite spoiled by the water boys who brought the tub to my room at the opera house. Hot water drawn from the boilers was just the right temperature for bathing by the time it got to me. This would be a much longer process.

  “Would you let me, please?” Erik said as I started to pull the brass tub into the parlor before the fireplace. He lifted it easily, and lined it with a sheet so that the heat from the metal wouldn’t burn my skin.

  “Just sit,” he said as I went back into the kitchen to get cold water to put into the tub.

  I groaned at his insistence, but ultimately let him take care of the matter. It was certainly easier than arguing.

  Erik poured some of the warm water from my kettle into a pitcher and went into the bedroom. I followed him and sank down on the bed as he poured the water into a basin. He stripped off his disheveled shirt next, and then soaped his face and shaved. After completing his ablutions, Erik laid down next to me on the bed and kissed me.

  “Better?” he asked, taking my hand and laying it against his cheek.

  “Oh yes,” I breathed, and reached to kiss him hungrily.

  “None of that just yet, dear,” he said, although his voice was husky with desire.

  We each heaved a little sigh then, and went back into the parlor. Erik poured the hot water into the tub, testing the temperature before helping me in. I washed quickly, not taking my usual time luxuriating in the bath. It felt wonderful to have self and hair clean again.

  Erik handed me a towel as I stood up from the tub and I dried hurriedly as I made my way back to the bedroom. There was a part of me that wished for a fireplace in that room as well, so that we did not go back and forth so much. On the other hand I was grateful to Zareh for lending us his little cottage. I was just so tired from feeling ill.

  I combed my damp hair and then toweled it again until it was almost dry; a quick brushing finished the job. I folded the towel and placed it at the foot of the very inviting bed and crawled, nude, under the featherbeds and settled onto the pillows. The fine lawn sheets felt wonderful against my skin. I would just close my eyes for a moment, I thought.

  CHAPTER 26

  Erik awoke me with a gentle caress; his touch against my bare skin was like fire and I moaned as I reached for him. I entangled my fingers in his hair, still slightly damp from his own bath, as he set his lips to the base of my throat.

  “My love,” he whispered, over and over, his lips brushing my skin at random. First a shoulder, then my throat again, then a brief touch on the swell of my bosom. My desire mounted into an ardor that would have embarrassed a more modest woman than myself. When at last he entered me, I shamelessly wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him in deeper. I licked and nibbled at his chest, raking my nails across his shoulders. The sounds issuing from my throat seemed more animal than human, so consumed was I with wanting him.

  All too soon, our lovemaking reached its crescendo. Erik settled next to me, his damaged cheek again hidden in the pillow so that only the unmarred left side was visible.

  “Oh, Claire,” he whispered. “If only you knew how much I love you.”

  “And I love you,” I replied, kissing him. “Now, why don’t you sleep? You were awake all night.”

  “Only if you stay with me.”

  “I shall,” I promised, and settled into the crook of his arm.

  I awoke again some time later. Erik’s even breathing told me that he was sound asleep, for which I was grateful. I slipped out of bed, put on a wrapper, and sat down on the vanity chair to read. I could not concentrate on the pages, though; my mind was wandering entirely too much.

  I glanced over at the bed. Erik had shrugged the featherbeds down in his sleep. He was lying on his belly and his scarred back was completely exposed. Unbidden, I began to cry silent tears; I could not bear cruelty in any form. I was unable to even imagine what his life had been like. Zareh had told me some little bit, and Erik had told me only slightly more. Overall, he was remarkably closed-mouthed about the horrors of his past.

  I went into the kitchen and minced some of the leftover chicken into a bowl for Pierre. I looked into the larder to see what I might prepare for luncheon without going into town; Erik’s wish that I should remain quiet today was a sound one.

  In the other room, Erik began to cry out. I closed the larder and went back to the bedroom to see what was wrong. I realized instantly that he was in the throes of a nightmare; he had pushed the featherbeds entirely to the floor and was making the most anguished sounds I’d ever heard.

  Then, the words that froze my heart: “Christine, don’t go. I love you!”

  I knew that one could hardly help one’s dreams, much less one’s nightmares. Nonetheless, an arrow of jealousy found its mark in my heart. How could I have been so foolish as to believe, after an absurdly short acquaintance and courtship, regardless of how long I had cared for his horse and secretly been watched by him, that I had supplanted the beautiful young soprano in his affections?

  I stood, twisting the belt of my wrapper in my fingers, as the tears streamed down my face. I sat on the edge of the bed and tried to decide what to do next, but my thoughts were entirely too muddled.

  Erik’s thrashings calmed and his breathing became more steady as I sat there weeping. I don’t know exactly when he awoke, or how long he watched me before he spoke.

  “Claire, what is the matter?”

  “Don’t you know?” I asked quietly.

  “No, Claire, I don’t.” He looked around at the bedclothes, which were all tangled, and then sighed. “Another of my nightmares, I suppose, the which I never remember. Did I frighten you, Claire?”

  “Only once,” I rejoined, and turned to look at him. “When you called out for Christine and told her that you loved her.”

  His green-gold eyes held my gaze steadily as he responded.

  “That was a lifetime ago, Claire.”

  He slipped out of bed and went through my clothespress to find a handkerchief. While he was up, he donned the loose silk trousers he favored, and then knelt in front of me.

  “Please, dry your eyes,” he requested. His voice was low and gentle.

  I took the handkerchief and did as he asked. He remained before me as though in supplication, and then laid his head in my lap. I stroked his raven-black hair and we sat in silence for a time.

  At length, Erik spoke again. “I did love her, Claire. I think half the world knows that, after what I did on stage. Then she humiliated me. She was beautiful and talented,
to be sure, but she was also a child. She was never really mine to love; I understand that now. After she left to marry that boy, the vicomte, I resigned myself to being alone for the rest of my days.”

  He stood up then and sat next to me on the bed, wrapping an arm around my waist.

  “And then,” he continued, “I saw this woman. Not a child, but a woman. She was different. She was a beauty of a different sort, and very kind. She obviously loved animals as much as I do. I began to watch her as I had once watched a little soprano, in secret, for I now truly feared to show my hideous face again.”

  I looked up at him and made to speak, but he laid a finger across my lips.

  “Pray, let me finish.” He drew a breath. “I never would have shown myself to you, Claire, had I not been afraid for your life that evening when your cousin wanted you to ride that Andalusian. Later, finding out that they had hurt him to make him dangerous to you made me angry. They hurt an innocent animal, and tried to kill you.

  “Hearing you talk about your late fiance’s injuries made me bold. I thought to myself that if you could love a man so badly burned, perhaps you would at least be my friend. I never dreamed that you would allow me to kiss you that day in the carriage, but my heart has been yours to command ever since.”

  Erik sighed deeply and dropped a gentle kiss on my forehead.

  “Now, madame, I really must insist that you get back into bed and rest a little longer. I don’t think you’re quite past this illness just yet.”

  “You were the one who roused me, husband,” I smiled. “In more ways than one.”

  His laugh was deep and throaty as I slipped between the covers.

  “Shall I read to you again? Or would you prefer to play at cards?”

  I opted for the card game and so we passed another pleasant hour of the morning before Erik went into town to procure supper. I amused myself with playing numerous games of Patience while I awaited his return. Pierre cuddled up next to me, so I didn’t feel lonely at all.

  When Erik did return some little while later, he came in to check on me immediately. When he found me reading to myself, and my fever decreased a little further, his relief was palpable.

  “I sent a letter to Zareh while I was in the village,” he informed me. “I’ve asked him to see to liquidating some of my holdings and transferring the funds to a bank in England.”

  I must have looked very surprised indeed.

  “My dear,” he informed me solemnly, “In the course of my travels I have acquired both money and property. I’m a very wealthy man. At the moment, I have more need of liquid assets than of property to which I will never return.”

  “So, your plan is for us to go to England, then?”

  “Yes. The more I have considered it, the more I want for us to go somewhere new, where we can have a life together unfettered by my past.”

  “How fortunate for you then, my love, that I am what Francois always called an overeducated chit,” I laughed. “I speak English fairly well.” I did not point out that, no matter where we went, Erik could not escape his past; there seemed to be no point in doing so.

  “As do I,” Erik responded in that language, without a trace of his native French accent.

  He turned more solemn then. “I saw your cousin in the village, Claire. It appears that he has brought the troupe here for a show or two. I think you should remain indoors until they have gone.”

  “Erik, I am no coward. Nor will I be kept prisoner for fear that I run into Francois.” My tone was petulant, and I knew it. However, I would brook no resistance. “I will go to market and the like; I’ll not hide myself.”

  Erik sighed with resignation. “I assumed you would say as much.”

  “Did you.” There was no question in my tone.

  “Yes, my love, I did. I’ve sent a note to Francois, asking that he meet me at the public house in the village tonight. I said in my message that I had information about you; that should assure his presence. When we meet, I will give him whatever funds he asks to leave us alone. I am not unwilling to resort to bribery for our peace of mind.”

  Erik’s long, elegant fingers toyed with a slender gut rope that he pulled from a pocket. “Nor am I unwilling to resort to force again.”

  “God in heaven, Erik,” I sighed. “Haven’t there been enough killings already? If you must meet with my idiot cousin, promise that you won’t do him physical harm.”

  I could see his reluctance, but he acquiesced at last.

  We consumed a cold supper in uncomfortable and unaccustomed silence. At length, Erik rose from the table and donned his coat and hat.

  “Please just stay here until I return,” he insisted. “I shan’t be long.”

  CHAPTER 27

  I amused myself by playing with Pierre and reading for a time. However, after three hours passed I became concerned. I could not imagine what was taking so long. I decided to go into town to see for myself what had happened, Erik’s concerns be damned. I changed from my wrapper to a plain blue wool dress and was just pinning my hair up when a loud knock came at the cottage door.

  I looked out the window but could only see a man, in profile, holding a lantern.

  “Mademoiselle Claire,” the man called, “are you inside?”

  I recognized the voice. Gilbert Rochambeau was my cousin’s valet, and a gentle soul. One of his shoes had a built-up sole because the leg on that side was shorter; it had been broken and badly set. Francois never let Gilbert forget that he was not like other men because of his injury. I had not thought until quite recently how very cruel my cousin could be; I had been so swathed in my grief that I could only make certain of my own kindness. All the same, I could only surmise that Gilbert’s presence boded no good. How could he possibly know where I was?

  “Mademoiselle Claire,” Gilbert called again. “I am come from a man who says he is your husband. I am come to help. As God is my judge, Mademoiselle, I am alone.”

  I opened the door a crack.

  “Prove to me you came from Erik,” I said quietly.

  “God in heaven, Mademoiselle Claire. Er, Madame; it is all true then.” His voice was rough with emotion.

  Gilbert slipped his hand through the gap at the door, making no attempt to push further inside, and held his palm open. In it were Erik’s wedding ring -- and a shard of the porcelain mask.

  I opened the door the rest of the way and let Gilbert in.

  “Where is he?” I demanded, pulling a shawl around my shoulders.

  “Madame Claire, I promise you. I am come to help.”

  “So you have said, Gilbert. Now, answer me.”

  Gilbert hung his head. As usual, he looked dusty, dishevelled and miserable. “Francois has him locked in a stall in the stable tent. Madame Claire, you were always so kind to me. And now, I see the man whom you have married ... you love him? Even with such a face as that?”

  “With all my heart, Gilbert.”

  “Then I am your man, Madame.” Gilbert’s tone was resolute. “I will help you and your husband. I only wish that I had never met your cousin, as I see the kind of man he truly is.”

  “Gilbert, if you help Erik and me, I promise you that you will not have to endure Francois’ employment any further.” Erik would need a valet in England, I reasoned; two birds might be killed with the same stone.

  With that, Gilbert escorted me out the door. He was as good as his word; we were alone.

  We walked in silence to the village square and into the traveling fair’s environs. The majority of sound came from the far end of the green and it was there that we made our quiet way. I could hear my cousin’s voice above the murmur.

  “Come and see the monster who claims he married a lady,” he called out in drunken tones. “This thing says he married my lovely cousin Claire, who has conveniently disappeared. Perhaps he has her stashed in his closet, like one of Bluebeard’s wives.”

  Loud, vicious laughter greeted my cousin’s remarks. Gilbert and I slipped into the midst of a crowd
that consisted primarily of performers, some still in their spangled costumes. I pulled my shawl up to cover my hair and hide my face a little. I needed to see, but wished to remain unseen as much as possible.

  Francois had locked Erik in one of the traveling stallion boxes: a sturdy cage. The look on Erik’s unmasked face was one of feral fury, barely even human. His shirt was torn, the scars on his back visible through the ruined fabric. His hair had been raked through by frantic fingers, for it was loose around his cheeks instead of his usual pomaded coif. The remains of his broken porcelain mask were scattered on the ground in front of the stallion box. Yet Erik stood erect, proud and silent, in the face of his tormentor. This was obviously not at all new to him, and I better understood his abhorrence of traveling fairs.

  “There are many here, milord, to whom my cousin Claire is well known,” Francois mocked, taking a draught from a jug of whisky. “Tell them again how our little horsewoman loves you and your hideous face.”

  Erik maintained his stoic silence, only the muscle pulsing in his left cheek betraying the depth of his temper.

  “Why doesn’t he say or do anything,” Gilbert whispered to me.

  “Because,” I responded, “I made him promise there would be no violence.”

  “Madame, you did not make me promise that,” Gilbert responded.

  I silenced him with a motion of my hand.

  “Show us your wedding ring, you foul beast,” Francois continued. “You were quite proud of it earlier when you said you were claiming your right as her husband.”

  Erik’s hands were clearly visible, all of the elegant fingers bare. The crowd jeered yet again.

  “Oh dear,” Francois went on. “You seem to have lost your little bauble in all of the confusion.”

  Gilbert pressed Erik’s ring into my hand. I slipped it into my reticule and maintained my silence. He gave me a questioning look, and I shook my head again.

  “Since the thing won’t speak, perhaps it will sing for us,” Francois crowed. “I vaguely recall seeing this masked visage around the Opera Garnier. I cannot imagine what kind of hideous tones would issue from that face, but surely you will indulge us with your croaking tones.”