The Phantom of Valletta

by Vicki Hopkins

  “Have you studied the finger placement for the notes?” He hoped her enthusiasm remained.

  “Yes, I have. Can I show you?”

  “Of course, the instrument is now in your hands.” Erik held out the violin, waited for Désirée to take it, and then stepped back to put distance between them. His eyes crawled lazily from the top of her golden locks down to her petite feet, taking in every inch of the modest dress. He allowed his mind to imagine what lay underneath.

  “And which do you find more appealing, sir, the placement of my fingers or the size of my waist?”

  Her comment caught him off guard. Apparently, she noticed the lecherous thoughts filling his mind. He shook his head in disgust over his actions. “I apologize,” he mumbled under his breath. He pulled is eyes away from her bosom and looked directly into her accusing blue orbs.

  “Show me what you have learned.”

  “Well, you can’t see from over there,” she pointed out, enticing him to draw closer.

  Erik relented and cautiously drew near to examine her hand around the stem. Her delicate fingers touched the strings while she perfectly recited the placement of each note. She impressed him again over her ability to quickly learn, so he decided to take a bold step. Hopefully, it wouldn’t damage his hearing.

  “Take the bow,” he instructed. She took it from his hand. “Now place it above the strings and give me a C.”

  Désirée did her best, but as Erik suspected, her effort failed. An out-of-tune screech filled the auditorium and echoed back into his ears. She looked mortified, and he felt violated.

  “Well, this is going to take some doing,” he mused, shaking his head.

  For the next half hour, he instructed Désirée on the art of gliding the bow across the strings. Each time she tried, the same awful tones resulted. Erik suppressed his impatience for her sake. Finally, it took its toll on her, as well.

  “Oh, I must be a fool to think I can learn this!”

  A childish stomp of her foot told Erik she was done for the evening. Taking the violin and bow from her hand, he assured her it would take time.

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day; neither is the way of a violinist learned in a few short lessons. It could take years to become proficient.”

  “Years?” she repeated, stepping uncomfortably close to his body. “I don’t have years.”

  “Well, perhaps you’d like to learn another instrument,” he offered.

  She shook her head no. A pout formed on her lower lip. Erik pondered a moment and then asked the absurd. “What about singing? Can you carry a tune?” At that point, he thought any tune would be better than what he had been tortured with throughout the lesson.

  Désirée shook her head. “No, Erik. It is only the violin I wish to learn.”

  She looked frustrated and disappointed over her failure. It could take months of lessons to determine if she truly possessed any musical talent. Being a quick learner encouraged him to continue with the painful instructions that lay ahead. Practice would eventually lead her toward perfection.

  “Then, the violin it will be. We will start scales soon, which will help. Don’t be discouraged. I shall not abandon your endeavor, as long as you study and do your best.” His last word barely left his lips before Désirée made her request.

  “Play for me.”

  Her bright blue eyes pleaded, and Erik could not deny her. “Shall I give you my handkerchief before or after, Mademoiselle?” He bowed at his waist in jest. To his surprise, he watched as she slipped her fingers up her sleeve and pulled out a delicate lace handkerchief of her own.

  “I came prepared,” she smugly announced. Désirée threw her head up in the air, making him laugh, and then she waved her hankie in his direction.

  “Very well, then, why don’t you take a seat in the audience this time, while I do the honors.”

  He escorted her to the side of the stage and helped her down the stairs. She sat in the front row and looked up at him in adoration. As he gazed into her adoring eyes, Erik found it difficult to suppress the emotion swelling in his heart. She longed to hear his gift, and he could give her beauty.

  “Close your eyes, Désirée,” he spoke tenderly. Erik closed his and embraced the instrument. He had chosen a musical score earlier in the day, anticipating her request, and stood center stage, gliding his bow over the strings. His nimble fingers elicited from the instrument a melodious sound that surrounded his audience. The perfect acoustics picked up each tone filling the atmosphere with the sounds of his genius.

  Erik had chosen a romantic violin piece that he composed a few days earlier, which spun its magic through slow and sweeping strains. The score had been unlike the terrible musical compositions, which he penned long ago in agony over Christine. Instead, he wove his growing emotions for Désirée into the music. It danced about her ears caressing her with his desires.

  When he was through, he lowered the violin from his chin and looked upon her face. Her eyes lifted to him, and she questioned the intent behind the score.

  “You wrote that for me, didn’t you?”

  Erik could not deny the fact. “Yes, I did. Though it seems it has not moved you as my previous scores, for I see no tears on your cheeks.” He felt disappointed over her reaction.

  Désirée lowered her eyes. She rose from the seat and carefully took each step back up the stage returning to where he stood. Her blue pools sparkled with radiance, and a glow lit her face.

  “It moved me to tears in my heart, Erik. It was touching and utterly beautiful.”

  Before Erik could respond to her forthcoming action, he felt her warm lips upon his unmasked cheek. Her hand rested upon his shoulder, and she gave him a lingering kiss upon his flesh.

  “Désirée,” he whispered in a raspy voice. “Please…don’t.” Her kiss felt painful and glorious all in one moment. He couldn’t bear it any longer.

  She pulled away, her smile faded as if he had just stolen every ounce of joy from her soul.

  “A mere thank you is enough,” he muttered, straining for composure. “You should leave.”

  Désirée’s eyes filled with sadness. Her voice quivered. “Yes, of course, Erik. Whatever you wish.”

  “Here, take the violin, and practice when you can.” Erik hesitated before continuing. He had recently made a decision regarding Désirée. “I’m going to ask Andrea to take you out of the dormitories and place you in a private room. It’s the least I can do.”

  “A private room?”

  “Yes, there is one in particular not far from the main quarters. That way you’ll be able to practice in privacy without the other workers bothering you.”

  “I would like that,” she admitted.

  “Until tomorrow then.”

  “Until tomorrow,” she replied. She looked at him one last time with adoration. “You might wish to wipe that lipstick off your cheek,” she said with a coy grin.

  Erik watched her retreat down the aisle and out the auditorium door. Once assured she had departed, he lost all composure and fell to his knees with a thud upon the wooden stage. The feeling of her warm lips upon his cheek lingered. He lifted his hand and touched the side of his unmasked face where she had kissed his flesh out of her own volition. Her action spoke of innocence and ignorance over his plight as a man. She had no idea what emotion a simple kiss would elicit from his soul.

  His carefully woven defenses unraveled. Only one other kiss had produced such a profound effect upon his life, which had come from his beloved Christine. She had bestowed it out of surrender to save the life of the Vicomte. It had not been freely and wholly given out of adoration like Désirée had imparted upon him a moment ago.

  The second her lips met his skin, his male urges rose. He wanted to pull her into his chest and claim her mouth with unbridled passion, the way he fantasized in the privacy of his thoughts. He possessed needs, desires, and longings like any other man. Why had life denied him such pleasures?

  Erik waited for an answer, but there
never answers to his cries. Always silence from heaven and hell. Erik staggered back to his feet struggling with his growing affection for Désirée. She had quickly breached the protective barrier he had built around his heart. Would it be his undoing? Would it be his death? Only time would tell.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Andrea opened the door to the single room. “Here are your new quarters, Désirée,” she announced, entering first with Désirée eagerly following behind. “Erik wants you to have privacy, so that you can practice without being bothered. We’ll have your things moved in here as soon as possible.”

  Désirée curiously looked around the modest room, but said nothing about the size or privacy.

  “There is one other thing,” she added, “that I’ve been asked to tell you.”

  “He thinks I’ll never learn to play the violin very well, doesn’t he?”

  “Oh, no, dear, nothing like that.” Andrea reached out her hand and touched Désirée reassuringly. “I promise you that he is committed to your studies, even if it will take some time.” Erik told Andrea he thought it would take an eternity, but she wasn’t about to tell her those words in case she discouraged the poor girl.

  “What I’ve been asked to tell you is that Erik wishes for your duties here at the opera house to be scaled back to part-time.”

  “But I need the money,” she protested with concern.

  “Well, your wages shall stay the same, and your duties will change as well.”

  “What do you mean my duties?”

  Andrea inhaled a nervous breath. She hoped that Erik had not made a rash decision.

  “He does not wish you to do menial housekeeping, such as cleaning the auditorium and the boxes. He’d like to give you access to our private quarters that will include my own set of rooms, Monsieur Mercier’s quarters, and our dining area. You are to be our housekeeper instead.”

  “And his too?” Her voice rose in hope.

  “His?” Andrea shuddered at the thought. She raised one eyebrow over her foolish assumption. “I’m afraid his, my dear, are never touched by anyone. He prefers utmost privacy in all matters, including his own quarters. I’ve rarely been there myself.”

  “May I ask where they are?”

  She stepped closer, and the move caught Andrea off guard. “You may not!” Andrea eyed her from top to bottom. “I cannot disclose such a thing. Erik will not have it! As I said, he prefers privacy.”

  Andrea’s ire rose in defense over the young lady’s insistence on knowing where Erik’s private quarters were located. She suddenly felt like a bear protecting her cub.

  As she looked at the beautiful young girl, she discovered the source of her irritation. What would Erik do if they were both alone behind closed doors? He might do the unthinkable! The man craved affection. If she gave him a hint of impropriety, he might take liberties and lose control. The thought sent shivers up her spine.

  “I know that you are fascinated with him,” Andrea said with pursed lips. She paused for a moment searching for the correct words to reveal Erik’s delicate state of mind.

  “You must not encourage him in any way, Désirée, or play with his feelings. His heart has been broken into a thousand pieces before. I am quite certain that I will be extremely unhappy should another woman do the same thing to him,” she conveyed, raising her voice.

  Désirée bluntly replied. “Madame, I have no intentions of hurting Monsieur Dante. I admire him, yes, but I do not think beyond those sentiments, I assure you.”

  Andrea wanted to believe her, but the twinkle in her radiant blue eyes spoke otherwise. The woman was obviously enthralled with a man her senior, gushing over the possibilities of winning his heart. She could easily see what Erik saw in her beauty. Her eyes, which Erik termed mesmerizing, bore back at her defiantly. Mesmerizing indeed, she thought to herself in a huff.

  “Well, I’ve said my piece and conveyed the instructions. He wishes you to join him this evening on stage one hour after tonight’s performance.”

  “I look forward to it,” she replied, with a shade of arrogance.

  Andrea reached out and handed her two keys. “Here is the key to your room. I’ve been instructed to tell you to lock it when you are not inside and to lock yourself inside at night when you return. Do you understand?”

  Désirée reached out, snatched the keys, and eyed them closely. A concerned look spread across her face.

  “It’s just a precaution,” Andrea added. “He wishes for you to be safe, that is all.”

  “And the other key on the ring, what is that for?”

  “That is the key that leads to our private rooms. They are located on the other side of the door at the end of the hallway by the office, which always remains locked. When you are ready to start your duties, let me know. I will show you the set of rooms that should be cleaned on a daily basis.”

  Andrea headed for the door. “I’d start practicing now,” she advised her. “He’ll be expecting even more proficiency from you this evening. You’ll find that he’s unrelentingly strict when he tutors. He can get ill-tempered when he’s not well pleased.”

  Would she heed her advice? Erik asked her to be a friend, but Andrea felt odd in the girl’s presence. She tried to analyze her feelings that bordered on suspicion and protectiveness.

  “I don’t mean to be harsh,” she added softly. “But I have known Erik for many years. I tend to be protective of him because of the pain he has suffered in life. I only wish him happiness in his endeavors, whether they are personal relationships or tutoring. Can you understand, Désirée?”

  “Yes, of course, I can, Madame Giry,” she replied, lowering her eyes to the keys in her hands. “I do not want to hurt him in any way. As I said, I’ve grown to admire him deeply.”

  “Very well then. I shall take your word for it.”

  Andrea closed the door behind leaving Désirée alone in her new quarters. She returned to Erik and Richard, who were meeting in the office. When she entered, the two men appeared to be in a serious discussion looking over papers on Richard’s desk. Upon seeing her arrival, Richard immediately shuffled the mound as if to hide something from her eyes.

  “I’ve done as you requested,” she reported, her voice trailing with a shade of bitterness. In an obvious attempt to try to be pleasant over the matter, she feigned a smile. “Your student has been shown her new quarters, given the keys, and asked to report to you after the performance.” Andrea shifted her eyes like an eagle to the desk trying to see what papers Richard tried to hide.

  “Good!” Erik exclaimed, taking her arm and walking her back to the door in an obvious effort to shoo her away from their discussion. “I appreciate your help, Andrea, as always. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Richard and I have business to attend to.”

  Andrea released a puff of air in disgust. “As always, Erik, I get the point when I’m not wanted.”

  He flashed a warm smile her way to appease Andrea over her dismissal. “They are confidential matters you needn’t worry your little head about. I’ll see you later.”

  Before Andrea could protest, she found herself standing in the hallway facing a closed door. A cold, ominous feeling washed over her soul. Something was wrong. Perhaps they were speaking of the changing of the locks. She had noticed the locksmith running around in a frantic rush like a headless chicken. The lock that led to their private quarters had been changed first. A brand new key lay in Désirée’s hand.

  She had been told that Darius had misplaced the keys. However, Andrea could tell by the furrowed brows of Richard and Erik a moment ago that there was more to the story. Intent on getting to the bottom of the matter, she stomped down the hallway to her room to change into something more appealing for the evening ahead. A slight enticement, a little feigned warmth, a dab of perfume, and she might be able to loosen the tongue of her former lover. Women had their ways, even at her age.

  * * *

  “You’ve said nothing to her?” Erik pressed.

  “No, for Go
d’s sake, no, Erik. She’d be inconsolably worried should she know about the threats.”

  He slipped his hand over the papers he had shoved out of sight earlier. The latest one came in the morning’s mail, and he handed it Erik.

  “This arrived about an hour ago. It has the appearance of another, but I haven’t opened it. I thought I would let you do the honors, if there are any in it.”

  An awkward silence ensued as the two men held their breath before reading the contents. Erik examined the envelope, flipping it between his fingers from front to back reading every line written by the pen and the seal upon the back.

  “Interesting,” he drawled. “Whoever it is mocks me with the seal of a skull. Have they all been like this?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. At first, and I know this sounds ludicrous, I thought it was some type of practical joke on your part, but then after closer examination, I saw it was not exactly like the seal you once used.”

  “The handwriting doesn’t look familiar to me at all,” Erik noted, studying it closely.

  “Nor to me either.” Richard sighed, his brow wrinkled with concern.

  Erik slipped his index finger underneath the lip of the envelope and broke the seal. Carefully, he pulled out the folded letter feeling a coldness unleash its contents. His hands hesitated while he examined the grade of parchment that appeared expensive, and then he flipped it open to read the message.

  “It is another,” he sighed. The threat relayed its intent.

  THE FIRES OF HELL AWAIT YOU, ERIK DANTE. YOU SHALL NOT ESCAPE.

  Erik swallowed hard. “Well,” he observed with a slight jest to ease the tenseness, “direct and to the point.” He handed it to Richard. “Not unlike the others.”

  Richard took the envelope and letter from Erik’s hand and eyed the words. “Yes, penned by the same hand as the others. The writing is similar.” He set the document down on the desk. “It looks as if they are veiled threats merely planned to intimidate you, Erik. Perhaps the disgruntled individual who burned the house down the first time is upset that you dared to restore it. You’ve apparently thwarted their intended destruction. It’s probably all words.”