The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

Chapter 48

A/N: I give you the last chapter....

The Treasure of Angels

Chapter XLVIII

xXx

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The moment Erik saw her, he knew.

In truth, he had suspected for some time; previous mistakes and current experience had taught him to be more vigilant in all matters that concerned his Angel.

She stood facing the sea, as beautiful as Venus looking out over the waters that had given her birth, the wind quietly whipping her long curls in tendrils of rippling dark silk. Her emerald green skirts pressed flat against her stomach and legs, ruffling in yards of soft linen that the wind blew behind her. In silhouette, he could see her mysterious smile, the dewy glow of her rosy cheeks and took in a short breath of wonder, as yet amazed that she belonged to him, that she had become his wife. The sea could never have her back; no one else could claim her. She was his for as long as they remained on the earth and even beyond that.

In the four months since their first performance for the gypsies, such nightmares of Christine being taken no longer sharpened his perception or distorted his sanity. Since their escape from France, five times he had almost lost her and five times she had been returned to his desperate embrace. After his startling encounter with the light and the unexpected disclosure of his life, Erik no longer feared that she would be forever taken from him. Since that bizarre meeting, which often gave him pause for reflection, the novel effort to entrust his faith to the higher power Christine served still came difficult but no longer proved impossible.

She turned, her eyes as dark and luminous as the sea in the glowing vestiges of the sun's amber rays, and he stood frozen, astonished anew by her exquisite beauty. She glowed from within though no sparkles were upon her exposed flesh. Yet every inch of her seemed to emanate light, like the mellow luster of a pearl.

Her face brightened even more intensely upon seeing him and she approached, the expression in her remarkable eyes ecstatic, her smile quiet and full, her manner eager yet somehow uncertain. He wished to save her any needless apprehension but at the same time sensed how important it was to her that he let her be the first to speak.

"Erik, my love," she reached for his hand and brought it up to her mouth, her lips landing against the edge of his finger which she kissed reverently, her eyes never leaving his. "I have something to share with you." Her eyes continued to search his as she slowly lowered his hand to her abdomen, pressing his palm flat against the slight curve he felt beneath her skirts and had felt this past week every time they made love.

"I carry your child."

The secret confidence he had known, so quietly put into words, nonetheless stunned him. "You are certain?" he whispered after a moment, though he had no need to pose the question. The truth was etched into every line of her delicate form, the truth he had suspected for weeks but never once spoken.

With all the suffering she had endured her womanly cycle never returned, though the Drabarni explained it could take time, months even, for the return to normalcy after a child was lost and especially after the other traumas her body suffered. And so, he had given Christine's absence of a monthly phase no consideration, nor had she. But he had noticed other telltale signs that she exhibited while she carried their first child, and had wondered.

Any slight dizziness or exhaustion and the need for frequent sleep she had glibly attributed to her mistreated body still recuperating from the effects of the poison or the miscarriage or their narrow escape or all three. However that did not explain away the tenderness in her breasts when he touched them or this new sickness that struck in the early morning hours or her recurrent disinterest in food. She, too, must have suspected, having experienced many of these signs before. But he had sensed that she feared to speak of the possibility of a child's existence, hesitant to put into words a moment that would remind her of the little angel they had lost. Fearful that she might lose another child by speaking outright of a new babe's presence. He had read all of this in her expressive eyes these past three months and silently offered what encouragement he could, while trying to push aside his own fears.