Page 29 of Angel’s Flight (The Phantom Saga #4)

London

E rik wanted to collapse on the bed as soon as the hotel room door closed, but Christine beat him to it. She flopped on the mattress, making the frame creak, and gave a groan of delight.

“Usually other things have to happen first before I hear those sorts of sounds,” Erik sighed as he sank down next to her. She burrowed into his arms immediately and he let out a breath he had been holding for a week. They had made it somewhere safe. For now, at least.

“Swear to me we won’t travel again for at least a week,” Christine muttered against his chest as they relaxed into the stiff (but thankfully clean) mattress.

“I swear to that and another after it.”

The journey by sea had been claustrophobic, to begin with, but rough seas and the crush of people throughout the boat had made it worse every day.

Erik had detested large ships before they embarked and now was sure that he would hate them forever.

There had been no place to go where there weren’t hordes of strangers, all staring at him even though he had his special mask.

So he had stayed in their cramped cabin, tripping over their trunks and his wife every moment and trying not to go mad being unable to play or sing or compose. At least they had been safe at sea.

The only relief from the boredom and confinement had been Christine and her insistence that Erik ‘get to know’ their traveling companion.

His few hours conversing with Howard had been light points of the trip.

He was an amusing man with a biting sense of humor that Erik very much appreciated, but there also seemed to be something secretive about him – a louche mysteriousness that reminded Erik too much of the dilettantes that frequented the Opéra.

He had to be grateful to Howard for his help, no matter what.

They had arrived late last night in South Hampton and the man, by some miracle, had procured tickets on the first train to London before Erik and Christine could even find their bearings or worry that someone was waiting to find them.

That had meant trudging through the port city in the wee hours of the morning and then waiting for hours at the station.

It had been exhausting in a way that left him feeling like he’d been hollowed out and cast aside like a piece of used fruit.

Or something else. He was too tired to think of a decent metaphor.

The train voyage had been no better than the boat, but at least Christine had been beside him all the while.

Even all these months later, Erik still found himself in awe of how she made him strong and calm.

To hold her hand, to lean against her as they tried to rest..

. It was wondrous. Yet, even so, Erik felt as if the journey to London had rattled his very bones.

All he wanted to do was sleep. He closed his eyes, breathed in the familiar scent of Christine next to him, and let himself rest. Just for a moment.

A moment apparently meant several hours. When Erik opened his eyes, the room was dark and the noise from the street outside was far more subdued, though someone was knocking at a door in the hall.

“Did we fall asleep?” Christine asked with a yawn as she rose.

“So it would seem,” Erik replied. The sound of knocking came again, louder this time... from their door. “Only to be awoken.”

It was an unspoken agreement between them that Christine would always be the one to deal with people.

She spoke to attendants and porters and maids.

She had been the one to procure their room here after Howard had left them to take lodgings with a friend.

So she was the one to crack the door to see who had disturbed them.

Erik stood back so he wouldn’t be seen, retreating to a corner on instinct.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” came Howard’s jovial voice, and Erik’s tense shoulders relaxed.

“Barely,” Christine muttered as she let the man in. “What time is it? I thought you were getting dinner with a friend.”

“I did, and now it’s time to show you London!” Howard laughed as the door closed behind them. He looked Erik over and shook his head. “You haven’t even changed from your travel clothes. How unfashionable. Our hosts won’t be amused.”

“I don’t plan on being placed in a position where anyone will judge my fashion,” Erik grumbled before Christine sent him a warning scowl.

“You don’t need to wear that bearded monstrosity either,” Howard added, much to Erik’s annoyance. The man had been clear in his hints that he wanted to see what was behind Erik’s mask that was so terrible, and Erik had been adamant in his privacy.

“I think what my husband means to say is that we appreciate the invitation, but we just want to find some food and go back to sleep,” Christine said, kind and warm as always.

“There will be food there – the finest in London. Not that our food is particularly of note, but it will be edible,” Howard laughed.

“I’ve missed this specific little salon for months, and I didn’t think I’d make tonight’s, but here we are.

I won’t show up without my fascinating new companions who will enthrall everyone.

You’re in the greatest city in the world and no one is after you at the moment – enjoy the freedom! ”

Howard couldn’t see Erik glowering behind his mask, but Christine laughed softly at his obvious displeasure. “I enjoy freedom away from crowds. And Paris is the greatest city in the world, just so we’re clear,” Erik muttered.

Erik looked to Christine for support in the argument, but there was interest in her eyes that caught him off guard. “You have been complaining about feeling cooped up,” she said.

“Because I wanted fresh air, not to go to a party,” Erik snapped back.

“What if I want to socialize?” Christine demanded, her voice cool and challenging. “You wouldn’t make me go alone?”

“I would still be there,” Howard quipped, but Erik couldn’t hear or see anything but his wife. There was an unmistakable look of power in her forest green eyes, and it made a wonderful shiver run up Erik’s body.

“You’d make me go?” Erik asked, trying to sound dismissive and only marginally failing.

“I would command it,” Christine said in such a tone that Howard had to awkwardly cough after a moment to break the spell she cast. The message was clear. They were going and Christine wanted him to enjoy it. Erik wasn’t sure he could, but if nothing else, he would enjoy her.

“I’ll let you change then. Don’t be too long,” Howard said and exited the room. Erik couldn’t help but laugh at his speed.

“I think you may have proven he’s indeed an Englishman,” Erik said.

“Does he think I’m going to have you right now while he’s waiting outside?” Christine did indeed step extremely close to him and slid her hands up his chest with a smile.

“Is he right?”

“No.” Christine said it with the most wonderfully wicked smile. “We’re going to do as he said and change, then we are going to have a delightful time among Howard’s eccentric friends. Only after that – and only if you behave – will we come back here so I can have my way with you.”

Erik threw his mask to the floor and kissed her, savoring the taste of her laughter as he did. Christine pushed him back and batted his arm with a playful frown, and his satisfaction only increased. “I promise to be as docile as possible.”

“Only at the party,” Christine countered. “I’d like you to be exceedingly forceful after.”

“Yes, Madame,” Erik grinned.

He floated on the joy of her commands as they changed, trying not to be too distracted by the sight of Christine’s pale skin and round thighs.

Soon enough, he was in a suit of pristine black with a fine shirt to match, and Christine had dressed in a gown of midnight blue that they had purchased in Geneva. She was glorious.

“Here, you can match me,” Christine said as she pulled a sapphire-toned cravat out of Erik’s case and approached him.

It made his head fuzzy when she pressed herself to him and drew the vibrant length of silk around his neck, fastening it tight.

Like she was binding him again. Keeping him safe. Keeping him hers.

“It will be my honor,” Erik exhaled and went easily as Christine took him by the hand to guide him out into the night.

Howard had a carriage waiting for them (closed, thankfully) to take them through the city. Erik had not made much of a note of the buildings or landscape when they had arrived; he had been too tired. Now he looked at the city through Christine’s eyes as they rambled along among the gaslights.

Where Paris had been forged by Baron Hausmann into perfect, symmetrical order, bisected by grand avenues rebuilt in a symphony of limestone and slate roofs, London was a maze cobbled together over centuries.

There was no rhyme or reason to the streets, and the buildings were a hodgepodge of ancient and new.

It was charming, in its way, Erik had to admit.

London didn’t hide what it had once been, the way Paris tried to.

A thousand years of history was on display on every street, if one could make it out through the soot and grime from the coal fires and factories.

It was hard to breathe here, compared to the salt air of the sea or the humble streets of Florence, but it certainly was lively.

“Where are we headed? Pretend like I know,” Christine asked as they passed through a large park.

“Belgravia, but the bad half of it,” Howard replied. “My friend is an itinerant Lord, or he was when last I left him. He’s probably bumbled his way into becoming a Baron by now.”

“That’s right, your nobles here have titles that matter,” Christine remarked.

“They don’t matter here either,” Erik sniped, and Howard gave him a look.

“Do you hate the upper class for a respectable reason or because you grew up playing with toy guillotines like a good Frenchman?” Howard remarked.