"There is precious little you could want, madam," he said with a small twist of lips, "That I would not find suitable, especially today. My will is yours, Christine. Command it."
Giving her control, when it was typically he who dominated their decisions, was his way of apology for the long stretch of convalescence he'd forced her to endure with him. He had his reasons, and they were sound -- but he did not enjoy seeing her fettered by his weaknesses. It was one of the reasons why he now retained two very ugly, very muscular men to trail her when she had need to leave the manor and he could not escort her. Even with the protection, it was still difficult to allow her to leave his sight. The danger was yet present.
And Erik had some plans of his own to correct that. To show Enigma just how deeply she had erred. The child surely didn't understand the depths of her depravity. She'd show no remorse, no apology, nothing that showed a heart or a soul within her. If her life had been as difficult as his, he could understand some of that. That said, he could never excuse her for the things she'd done.
His eyes had turned icy, and he felt the change within him. To hide it from his tender bride, he'd turned to watch the cityscape pass. The iron gates of the garden were approaching.