The Scarf the Colour of Blood

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Disclaimer: I do not own PotO or LND.

Thank you all so very much for reading this fanfiction.

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   Christine smiled and charmed everyone at the garden party.

  Her beautiful brown eyes shone with happiness, and her cheeks rosy with color.

  She truly was a blushing bride, a picture of perfect educate.

Every lady was green with envy, and every man longed to sate the hunger for the beautiful maiden.

Christine felt total and complete bliss, but not for the reason she should be.

For she was going to elope with her lover that very night.

Excitement flooded her lungs, and she had to gasp for breath!

Two warm, strong arm wrapped around her small waist. The scent of her husband engulfed her. Raoul's nose nuzzled her neck lovingly.

Suddenly, Christine felt very ill.

"My wife..." He whispered into her ear, cooing. Raoul's soft lips felt like velvet against the crane of her neck.

"Raoul!" She gasped. "There are people here..."

"So?" He chuckled lightly. "What is the merriment in having a wife if one cannot kiss her in public?"

All the same, he pulled away from her.

Christine pursed her lips, as he untangled his arms from her waist.

"What is the matter, dearest?" Raoul whispered, turning her to face him.

Christine could not meet his gaze.

"Nothing, it is nothing." She matched his eyes briefly, and gave him a smile.

Raoul was not easily fooled. He gently cupped her chin and forced her eyes to lock on his.

He searched her face, almost as if he looked long enough, he would find the answer.

"I promise you, I am happy," Christine planted a sweet kiss upon his jaw. Raoul's eyes fluttered closed.

When she pulled away, his eyes opened again.

"Capital," he smiled, grabbing her two hands and kissing both nuckles. "Now," he said, a glint in his eyes. "We dance!"

They twirled together, her white skirts brushed against his legs. Christine had to admit, they made a beautiful pair. Raoul was handsome, extremely so. He had fair skin, full lips, wheat colored hair, and divine blue eyes. He was handsomely rich, too. Christine possessed neither birth not rank, but she did have charm, and for that she was grateful. She was not extraordinarily beautiful, but did not mind admitting that she was pleasing to the eye. Indeed, they were the handsomest couple in all of France.

Christine could not help but notice how Raoul seemed to float above the ground as he danced. She did not know weather or not Erik knew how to dance, but if he should ever, Christine imagined he would posses mirrored grace, a float above the ground too.

Erik.

Thinking of him gave her a flood of different emotions.

First, she felt sick for dancing in another man's arms. But then her imagination drove up the memory of his hands along her body....kissing and caressing until his sate of her was filled.

Christine stumbled, and fell into Raoul's arms.

He furrowed his brow and laughed kindly at her. She gave him a weak smile.

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