Unmasqued

Wrapped in a dark cloak, Christine moved away from the chateau. A shout in the distance caused her to freeze, her heart filling her throat. But after a moment of gaping around from behind a large oak, she realized it had come from the direction of the stable, on the other side of the chateau.

A glance up over the top of the house's square tower told her that whoever'd set the fire had done the job well. A tall spiral of dark gray smoke billowed up, and with a small gust of wind came a shower of ash over the peaked chateau roof and the stronger smell of burning wood.

Hoping none of the horses would be injured in the fire, Christine gave one last look at the cloud of smoke and hurried toward another tree. Madame Giry had Warned her to move quickly from tree to tree, ending at the clump of scrubby pines next to the wall. There would be a pile of stones there for her to use to climb over the wall, and Erik would be waiting for her just on the other side.

Erik.

Christine hurried her steps, the cloak flapping about her legs as she dodged toward another tree. Even though it was winter, the branches were thick enough, and the pines close enough, that anyone looking down from the upper windows of the chateau would be hard-pressed to see her.

There-she saw the trio of pines and, as she darted forward, the pile of rocks. The wall was no higher than her chest; the flat-topped stones that looked as though they might have been left over from the building of the wall or the chateau would give her enough of a boost to make climbing the wall simple, even in her heavy skirts.

Christine stepped up onto the pile of stones, holding the top of the wall, and swung her foot up and onto the ledge, looking for a sign of Erik. Beyond the wall, trees were scattered over low, rolling fields patched with snow, and in the distance, a line of trees curved around the edge of the estate. Far to the left, along the wall onto which she hoisted herself, were the massive iron gates to the lawn she'd just crossed, and beyond them was the dark curl of smoke from the burning stable.

At first, there was no sign of any life. All was silent and still. But then she saw him, near a cluster of trees.

"Erik," she said softly, hardly daring to believe he was there, coming toward her on Cesar. His heavy dark coat flapped over the horse's dirty white haunches, his face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. He sat tall and strong in the saddle as he and the stallion followed the line of trees, out of sight of the chateau and its burning stable.

Bringing both of her feet to the other side of the wall, she launched herself over and ran toward him.

"My, what a welcome surprise." He swept off his hat and Christine staggered back in shock. "But I hope you are not leaving so soon."

"No!" she cried, and turned to stumble away, but Philippe was too fast for her. He raced up on Cesar and swooped an arm down to snag her around the waist, lifting her to slam her belly onto the saddle in front of him. The wind knocked out of her, Christine gasped for breath as she tried to slip from under his grip.

"A case of mistaken identity, I presume, based on your reaction," he said, his hand grasping the back of her neck and holding her in place as her stomach jounced painfully against the saddle. "Forgive me for interrupting your plans, but I would not want you leaving the chateau so soon, my dear."

She could not squeeze away from under his hand, but with the bit of breath she had left in her, Christine managed to say, "Erik?" She knew something had befallen him. How else would Philippe be riding Cesar?

Philippe had wheeled the white horse back around and Christine was able to lift her head enough to see that they were going toward the gates at the back of the chateau.

"Your beloved Erik is unable to help you now."

No.

Christine squeezed her eyes closed, blocking away the gloating in his voice, the satisfaction in his words. Philippe would have no qualms about it, none at all… but, no, no … she wouldn't believe it. Not yet. Not until she had proof.

They galloped to a halt near the same servant door through which Christine had emerged only moments before. Without loosening his grip on her neck, Philippe slid off Cesar and moved to clamp a stifling hand over her mouth as the other closed around her arm.

She fought and kicked, but he was taller and stronger than she by far, and he easily maneuvered her into the building. Once inside, he stopped in the narrow back hallway, and still gagging her with his hand and keeping her pulled up tightly against his body, he fumbled around with his other and produced a gleaming knife.

"Now," he said, breathing heavily, "you'll not make a sound, or I'll cut your pretty throat. I'd hate to damage such a lovely songbird, but as with Carlotta, I've no qualms about doing so if necessary. Walk this way."