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No Easy Way	By : secretlysecretly Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7568 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter 11

The following morning found Erik sleeping peacefully in his bed. Vincent was not accustomed to his master sleeping late into the day. Sometimes the butler thought that the man barely slept at all. He had spent countless nights listening to his master playing on his organ passionately; the music emanating from the impressive instrument as if his master were trying to exorcise the demons that plagued him.

As he knocked on the door of the master bedroom, Vincent heard a ruffle coming from behind the closed door. ‘It appears Monsieur Destler finally decided to rise.’ he thought mirthfully. Hearing the reply to his knock, he entered the room.

“Good morning Master. Shall I serve breakfast for you at the veranda today?”

“Thank you Vincent, but I will not be having breakfast this morrow. Please arrange for a hot bath to be prepared while I have some coffee on my balcony.” Erik replied.

“Certainly Sir.” the butler said, smiling at his master’s apparent good mood.

‘He must have enjoyed himself yester night.’ he ruefully contemplated.

Vincent had been right. A short while later, submerged in hot water, Erik couldn’t wipe the foolish grin from his face as his thoughts drifted back to Marianne. He felt his heart swell as he pondered on the way her alabaster skin was shining beneath the pale moonlight. He had stood rooted to the spot for what could have been hours but seemed like minutes to him, a dreamy look in his eyes as his fingers twitched with anticipation, the urge to run them through her silken maze of hair almost painful.

As he submerged his head in the hot water, trying to drive the dangerous thoughts from his mind, Erik could swear that he could taste her sweet lips upon his own. Remembering their kiss of a few days ago, he felt himself grow hard. As the wave of fiery passion consumed his body, he stood hastily from the water and grabbed the towel that was resting next to the bathtub. He started rubbing his skin vigorously, trying to alleviate the tension that had washed over him, all the while cursing himself for his straying thoughts.

Swearing through clenched teeth, he pulled his trousers abruptly over his raging erection and a frilly shirt followed suit. ‘Why do I keep torturing myself thus? What’s the point in dreaming of what will never happen for me?’ he chastised himself in his mind. ‘Face it Erik, no woman will ever regard you as anything more than a beast trapped in a man’s body!’ As the thought permitted his mind, his shoulders sagged under the weight of the painful reality that had become his life.

If Christine weren’t able to see him as nothing more than a monster, after he had spent all those years being her “angel of music” always comforting her when she would grow melancholic, whatever could make a strong-willed woman such as Marianne see him under a different light? Christine hadn’t even been able to see him as a friend after having seen his face, let alone yearn for him as a lover would; why would Marianne Pinon prove to be any different?

He had always known that no woman could ever love him despite his abhorrent face. The incident with Christine had only made it adamantly clear that not only was he doomed to spend the rest of his miserable existence unloved, but compassion and affection would also escape his grasp until the end of time.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he took hold of a book that was resting upon his nightstand and dragged his weary steps towards the door. He was desperate to drive all thoughts of his lovely neighbor from his mind; perhaps reading by the lake would give him a refuge from his tormenting demons.

Marianne had woken up early that day, her mood a joyous one. The night before had been a revelation as she had come to know a completely different Erik than the one she had become accustomed to. The man she had met yester night had been gallant and agreeable to talk to; he had been the exact opposite of the reclusive, infuriating man she had met but a few days ago. Her spirits lifted thinking of his elegant manners the night before, and a warm feeling flooded over her as she contemplated on the way he had regarded her as they danced out in the veranda.

Erik was sitting with his back against the brook of a sycamore tree, leafing through the book he had brought with him. His traitorous mind kept wandering back to the night before, and the feeling of holding Marianne in his arms as they had shared a dance.

He read the same verse three times before he finally accepted the fact that he couldn’t concentrate on the poem by Baudelaire. He closed the book abruptly and allowed his gaze to wander over the glittering water of the lake. He lifted his head and saw the light seeping through the heavy leafage of the tree.

Closing his eyes, he felt the afternoon sun warm his skin. This had been his dream all along. To finally be able to live his life away from the abject darkness that had surrounded him for so long. He was being accepted by the local community, had more than sufficient funds to support his extravagant tastes and a long list of servants to cater to his every wish and command. It would seem that he had built a perfect life for himself, but only to an ignorant bystander.

What he lacked, and could never hope to achieve, was the most important element of all. At least to a hopeless romantic such as Erik. His heart was yearning, burning for that which had escaped him his whole life through. Love.

That night when Christine had fled from his side as if a demon had been on her trail had effectively shuttered his heart into a million pieces. And although he knew that he still had deep wounds that might never heal, his foolish heart didn’t seem to realize that, skipping a beat whenever his betraying mind would wander back to Marianne Pinon.

Beautiful, noble, proud and outspoken, the Duchess had an effect on him such as Erik had never expected. He found her infuriating manner adorable. He wished to get to know the real woman who had returned his kisses with equal fervor, the woman hiding behind the icy maiden that had regarded him with impartial politeness the previous night; until she let her façade slip the tiniest bit while he held her in his arms.

He wanted to stoke the sparks in her eyes until they would become searing flames that would consume them both in passion. He knew what he craved for could never be, but he couldn’t help dreaming of someday playing the Romeo to such an extraordinary Juliet. Whereas Christine had been an obsession for him, he knew now that the feelings that Marianne was stirring up in him were completely unfamiliar to his jagged soul.

When it came to his lovely neighbor, he didn’t dwell solely on the physical reactions she caused from him. He wasn’t worried that his ardor would frighten her away. He didn’t regard her as a wandering child; lost and helpless. Instead, she seemed perfectly capable of looking out for her own interests, determined to live her life by her own unorthodox rules. When he had witnessed –unseen- the way she had refused Baron Dervaux’ obvious attempts to steal a kiss from her, he couldn’t help but feel an illogical wave of male pride wash over him at the thought of her eager response to his own questing mouth but a few days ago.

How could a woman as beautiful and intelligent as Marianne ever choose the kiss of a monster to that of a handsome noble? He kept pondering on that thought, trying to make sense of it all, when he heard footsteps approaching the spot where he was seated. It could only be her, but Erik truly didn’t know whether he was prepared to meet her. He opened his book again and pretended being engrossed by the material in his hands.

Marianne had been walking around aimlessly for quite a while before she became tired and decided to walk over to her favorite spot by the lake to relieve some tension by gazing at the sparkling water. As she approached the lake, she remembered the last time she had been here and the way that insufferable, arrogant man had teased her. Her cheeks flushed, she decided that the best thing she could do was walk over to the water and splash some on her face, effectively cooling herself down.

Why did she have to react this way every single time the thought of that man crossed her mind?

Marianne approached the water, shaking her head to drive the notion of her neighbor from her mind. Unbeknownst to her, Erik was watching her from behind as she bent at the waist, raised her heavy dress and petticoats in one hand and submerged her other hand in the water, relishing its coolness.

Just as she was about to bring her now wet hand to her temple, she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. Instantly, the dreamy look in her eyes gave way to astonishment.

‘It couldn’t possibly be him!’ the thought crossed her mind just as she heard his deep voice speak out to her.

“Good morning Mademoiselle de Duchess. It would seem that we cannot help but keep running into one another.”
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No Easy Way