~ Reflected Passion III: Reflected Destiny ~
by Aurelia

* * * * *

There are many journeys in one’s life. The most important one begins with conception and ends with death. It is a road we all travel, filled with twists and turns, many forks in the road and littered with rocks. Of course, there are many physical journeys to be made, whether it is to the corner store or half-way around the world, as well as intellectual ones to discover school, high school, university or just self-awareness. Lastly, but no less important, is the emotional journey in search of joy, peace, harmony and that elusive partner to share one’s life with. The journeys of a few lucky ones are intersected by divine intervention, revealing a hidden path that is treacherous and not for the faint-hearted but leads to a destination full of greatness. It takes great courage and determination to travel this path, but with enough will and perseverance those worthy of this gift will fulfill their destiny…

Chapter 1

“Are we there yet?”

They had been traveling only a few hours and already Francoise was annoyed. The small leather attachment in her pants had been sticking into her crotch, its presence known with every sway of the broken down horse underneath her. Now Dale was making inane comments.

“I always wanted to say that,” Dale said cheerfully.

“Hrrrmp!” Françoise was losing her patience, something she had not done with her young lover before.

Dale was taken aback. She knew she had made a mistake when there was no term of endearment, even implied, in the grunt. There was always ‘chérie’, ‘mon cœur’, ‘mon amour’ or just plain ‘Dale’. There was nothing except piercing blue eyes staring back at her. “Sorry…” she muttered.

“Sorry, chérie…” There was that word Dale had come to crave. “… but you do not have to be so cheerful about this.”

“You think I don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

“Dale…”

“I found you in a reflection in a mirror…” Françoise settled back in the saddle, preparing herself for the lesson that was Dale. Of course the woman knew what was going on, they were there together through that entire journey.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll keep it short. I came to you, you came to me. My mother wants you dead so here we are back here in the middle of the French Revolution with no escape back to my time. Now all of France wants you dead as well.”

“Then why are you so happy about it?” Her companion seemed to have a grasp on the situation.

“Because I’m here with you.”

The brunette didn’t know what to say. Dale had so eloquently put their dilemma in few words and their solution. “Ah, chérie, what would I do without you?”

“I’m not going to give you the chance to find out.”

“You do not trust me, mon amour?” A dark eyebrow rose.

“Yeah, but….,” Dale hesitated. That damned little demon still sat on her shoulder, whispering into her ear and feeding all those insecure thoughts she tried to suppress.

Françoise shifted the horse closer to her companion, leaning over to pat the woman’s hand tightly gripping the reins. “No, Dale. There will never be anyone else. You must believe that.” The approach of a battered wagon from the other direction stopped their conversation. “Say nothing, chérie.”

“Well, d’uh…” Dale muttered, raising her own eyebrow to tell her partner what she thought of that comment.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing…,” she said brightly.

“Bonjour monsieur, bonjour madame. Vous arrivez de Nantes?” Suspicious eyes glared at her and the man’s shaggy head nodded in confirmation. “What is the road like up ahead?”

“Nantes is a madhouse, monsieur. It is not a wise place to take your young bride right now.”

“How so, monsieur?”

“People everywhere, either trying to take refuge or seek a berth on one of the ships leaving the port. There are gangs of vigilantes roaming the streets in search of aristocrats and the helpless. Many of them are traveling this road as well, monsieur. You two could easily fall prey to such bullies.” Aged eyes studied the two women on horseback, seeing a tall young man of sleek build and a young blonde whose beauty would mark her for ravishment.

“Nevertheless monsieur, we have business there and must go. I thank you for your help. Goodbye.” Françoise gently kicked the side of her nag, pushing the horse into motion past the dilapidated wagon.

Dale followed, her eyes fixed on the old woman seated next to her husband. Would that be her in ten years’ time? Twenty years? In these times it was easy to be old at forty. Or die. There were no antibiotics here. No miracle drug to cure her ills. She suddenly realized how fragile life was going to be in this time.

“So what did he say?”

“We have to find another route.”

“He said that?”

“No... I said that.” She was worried. Neither of them had experience in the wilds. It was going to be hard enough without the worry of armed gangs raping and pillaging as they went. “Not far up ahead is a crossroad. We will take the north road to follow the river. It is a little longer but should be a lot safer.” She said no more, content to bury herself in her thoughts.

“How do you know about this road?”

“I have been along these roads many times, chérie. I know them intimately.” Too intimately for her liking though.

“So you’ve been to Nantes before?”

“Yes.” The somber look stopped Dale from questioning her further. Whatever had taken her to Nantes had not been pleasant, but that didn’t stop the small woman speculating what it was.

They rode on in silence until the fork in the road appeared. “To the right.” Françoise said no more, in no mood to make light conversation.

Dale was worried. The tall woman sat in the saddle, her eyes flickering around looking for danger. Françoise had always been so self-assured, confident and relaxed, but she was none of those things right now. She was hyper-vigilant, restless and silent. Nantes couldn’t come soon enough.

The two nags were steered down the smaller road, heading off down what was barely more than a walking track towards the Loire. What Françoise hadn’t told Dale was that while this road was quieter, if they got into trouble there was less chance of someone coming to their aid. What God gave with one hand, the Devil took away with another. She only hoped that what God gave them was enough to hold the Devil at bay.

* * *

It had been a long day in the saddle. Dale was sore in places she didn’t know could be sore. They had made steady progress, finding the river and following its course towards the coast, allowing the horses to walk at their own pace. The sun was hanging low in the sky and it was necessary to find shelter. The small woman sat back, biting her lip as her ‘sore spots’ made themselves known, watching her lover take charge and find them a campsite.

Françoise had no idea what she was doing but she wasn’t going to tell Dale that. This was her time and her country. She was responsible for Dale’s safety and it was a responsibility she took very seriously. Resolve replaced indecision as she alighted from the horse. “We will stay here tonight.” Her hand reached for her crotch, shifting the leather piece that had been her nemesis all day.

“You trying to say something, honey?”

“Pardon?” Dale said nothing but dropped her eyes to where Françoise’s hand was hovering. “Oh, non. It has been… uncomfortable.”

“I just bet. If it’s anything how my… errr…. how I feel then it’s screaming for relief.” Dale smiled sweetly. “Are you looking for relief?”

Françoise blinked. Did she mean what she thought she meant? “Not now, chérie.”

“Why, what a dirty mind you have.”

“Only because you put it there, mon amour.” Despite herself, Françoise smiled. “Thank you, chérie.”

“For what?”

“For reminding me what was important. Now… hmmm.” The aristocrat surveyed the scene. “I will find us somewhere to sleep.” Before she had finished the final word Dale had stepped forward, picking up a fallen branch and sweeping away dead leaves and undergrowth until there was a bare patch of ground.

“What are you doing?”

“What you should be doing.” Dale couldn’t help but smile cheekily at the stunned woman. “Now go and collect some dead wood while I prepare a fire pit.”

“And how do you know all this?”

“I was a Girl Scout when I was a kid.”

“Girl… Scout… Kid?” Françoise was perplexed. “What are you talking about?”

“Kid is another word for a child and Girl Scout? A Girl Scout is a girl who is taught to survive in the wild. And I think all that is going to come in handy right about now.”

“Bien.” If whatever Dale said was good then she was happy. Woodsmanship was not something taught to the aristocracy, and especially not to the women, so this was one point she would happily defer to her partner. Françoise felt no anger at Dale taking charge. She had discovered not long ago that their relationship was based on give and take, ebb and flow, as their needs dictated.

Dale watched the woman leave, attending to the horses before wandering into the forest to find dead wood. She had never met anyone quite like her. Many men she had come in contact with would have been up in arms about her taking charge, but not Françoise. That was one of the endearing things she loved about the woman. There was no argument about who had control. It was a seamless meshing of the two of them. When one was lacking, the other would step in. She couldn’t help the little smile that came to her lips.

She could hear her lover shifting through the undergrowth, the odd snap of wood underfoot pinpointing her. Her smile widened as what she assumed was a French expletive reached her ears. Obviously her arrogant aristocrat was not accustomed to such manual labor and this journey would be a voyage of discovery for both of them. A journey that she hoped would bring them even closer together than before.

* * *

Dead tendrils reached for her and tore at her clothes. Maybe she should have sent Dale on this chore because the constant prodding of dead branches was irritating Françoise’s last nerve.

“Do you need any help?” Dale’s voice carried on the light breeze to her ears.

Her pride refused to let her say ‘yes’. “I am fine, chérie. Why do you ask?”

The crunch of leaves gave away her companion’s position. “Because you have been muttering and cursing for the last five minutes.” A mass of blonde hair appeared through the undergrowth, an impish face grinning madly at her. “Here, let me give you a hand…”

Françoise pulled away her armful of firewood. “Find your own wood. This is mine.”

“Aww, c’mon now, honey.”

“Do not ‘honey’ me, Dale. I can look after myself quite well.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I was just offering…”

The pouting lip was her undoing. “Please, Dale. I…do not…” A finger came up to her lips, stopping the confession from being revealed.

“Don’t say it.” Dale knew how much it hurt Françoise to reveal her weaknesses. “You did just fine, my love.” The air started to cool, sending a shudder through her. “Maybe you can help me with the fire before I freeze to death.”

* * *

Dale sorted through her fading memories to her days as a Girl Scout. While it was fun in those days to ‘camp out’, little did she suspect that she would ever actually use what she had learned. Now that time in her life took on new meaning. It was their salvation.

Françoise watched carefully as Dale laid out the wood, trying to commit to memory what she had done. Her lover stopped, looking at her expectantly.

“Now, it’s your turn.”

“Moi?”

“Yes, toi…” Dale rose and made her way to their meager belongings, extracting the tinderbox from the cloth bag. Silently, she handed over the box to her partner, nodding in the direction of the pile of wood.

The tall aristocrat shrugged, striking the stone on the metal to cause sparks. As the wood caught alight, Dale hunkered down beside her, gently pushing the tinder towards the orange glow. Françoise blew on the smoldering specks until the fire burst into life, its heat already evident in those first few moments. “Voilá,” she murmured, her hand opening in invitation with a flourish.

“See? We work well as a team.” Not that Dale ever doubted that. She continued to feed the flames until the fire was burning brightly, lighting up the immediate area as the sky darkened to twilight.

* * *

After a dinner of cold rations Dale lay against Françoise, her back snuggled into her lover’s chest. She looked up at the night sky, sighing contentedly. “Just look at all those stars! It’s such a beautiful night. Cold, but beautiful.” The dark woman pulled up the blanket around her companion, making sure that she was comfortable and warm. “You know what I think?”

“No, chérie. What is going on in that head of yours?”

Dale’s head tilted up, giving Françoise a glare. “Verrry funny. No, I’ve been thinking about what’s been happening to us.” The blonde felt the strong arms around her tighten. “I think it’s a test.”

“A… what you say? Test?”

“It’s some divine journey to see whether we are worthy of what we have been given.”

“You think so?”

“Up till now our path has been straight and smooth. It has been a wonderful time.” Glassy eyes looked up to see a nod in confirmation. “Whew! I’m glad you said that… Anyway, what if this is to see whether we survive a rocky path, to test our love and resolve?”

“Hmmmm…” Maybe that would explain why she had the urge to step back through the mirror. Françoise pondered the question. Dale’s father had been sympathetic to their cause and he was a man of great influence, or so she was lead to believe. Surely he would have sorted out the differences between his wife and his only daughter. “Maybe.”

“Hey! It can’t be any more incroyable than how we met, can it? I mean, why are we here?” A gentle smile touched the dark woman’s lips as Dale slipped in a word of French.

“Because your mother was trying to separate us?” Françoise was not sure whether she believed all this divine nonsense. She was more inclined to believe it was a freak happenstance.

Dale twisted in Françoise’s grasp, her trusting eyes seeking out her lover’s. “You know what I mean…”

“Oui, I do.”

“You can’t explain this.” The smaller woman laid her hand on the French woman’s chest, quietly at first before patting the cotton surface. “No bandage?”

“Chérie, I was not going to wear that thing, or the devil’s spawn in my pants, any longer than I had to.”

“Oooh, goody.” Dale turned around and wriggled against the woman nestling her. “Better…” She felt Françoise’s hands encircle her, agile fingers gently moving over the rough cotton. “Hmmmm…. Much, much better.” Without her knowledge, Dale’s voice dropped to a seductive whisper. “I know what would make it perfect.”

The tall French woman chuckled, drawing a glare from the young woman in her arms. “What’s so funny?”

“You, chérie.”

“Me? What did I do now?”

“You have come so far, my sweet Dale. Was it only a matter of a few weeks since you first saw me in the mirror? Now look at you.”

“Well, I can’t. We have no mirror, remember?” Again, the annoying chuckle tickled her ears. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing.” Françoise dipped her lips to touch her partner’s temple. “Nothing at all, but here you are asking for your pleasure.” The heat of the young woman’s skin brought another laugh.

“Stop teasing me!” Dale was mortified, snuggling her embarrassment deep into the blankets.

“Do not be upset, mon cœur. I find it most….ummm…. endearing. Oui. Endearing.” She kissed the top of Dale’s head, pulling her as close as their bodies would allow. “And as much as I would like to show you how endearing you are I must decline.”

“You’re saying ‘no’???” Dale thought it was only a matter of saying ‘I’m ready’ and Françoise would jump at the chance, so this negative response was most unexpected.

“Ma chérie, we are in danger. I must keep a clear head.” All of Françoise’s good intentions nearly flew out the window when she felt a warm hand wander along her thigh. “Stop that!” Her own large hand came down on top of Dale’s to stop the seductive tingling flowing across her skin.

“You are a spoil sport!”

“Dale… keep doing that and when we reach an inn you will be in trouble.” Flashing blue eyes reflected dangerously in the firelight, holding a promise of ravishment at the next appropriate time.

Dale could feel her excitement climb at the look, cursing herself for her own weakness. “Oh God…,” she whimpered.

“He will not help you, chérie.” White teeth emerged from dark lips, the tall woman’s grin enticing and seductive. “So stop this now before I have to go and kill something.”

Dale sighed deeply, allowing herself to slip into silence. The crackling of the fire awoke some very tender memories. “I remember a scene like this not so long ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The smell of smoke, the crackling of a fire and you behind my back.”

“Oh?” But it only took a second for her senses to remember. “Oh. Of course. The crossroad in my life.”

“The divine intervention.”

“If you say so, chérie.”

“Fate, divinity, or just plain dumb luck, call it what you want. I’m grabbing onto it with both hands and not letting go.”

“Mmmmm…” Françoise smiled, letting the warmth of her partner seep into her tired body. A creeping lethargy lay over her and she was content to just drift as she leaned against a fallen tree trunk. The fire sputtered and danced, tendrils of flame reaching to the night sky. She watched the cinders rise on the heated air, dying out once they had reached their zenith and falling back to earth unnoticed in the dark.

“I’ll never forget that first night I came to you.”

“My scared little rabbit you were.”

“At first, yeah, but when you touched my skin that first time it was… it was… magical.”

“That it was, mon amour. That it was.”

“Maybe we should mount the mirror on the ceiling when we finally settle down.”

“The ceiling??!?! Where did you get an idea like that?”

“Didn’t think I had such an imagination Françoise? Let me show you….” Dale exaggerated her thought process teasingly. “Now let’s see…. Hmmmm… “

“Dale…,” the deep voice growled in warning.

“I’m not doing anything, sweetheart.”

“Yes you are, and you know it!”

“I was just going to tell you a bedtime story.”

“You are trying to kill me.”

“I would never do that, Françoise.”

“It is because I said ‘no’, n’est-ce pas?” She warily eyed the woman snuggled into her chest. “You are playing with fire, mon cœur.”

“I like playing with fire…,” she murmured quietly, the intonation in her voice dreamily confirmed her inner desires. “I like playing with your fire,” she amended.

“Where’s my sword?” Françoise could feel her temperature rising, not only from the young woman squirming around seductively in her lap but the words that held so much promise.

Dale secretly smiled. She liked that she could stir such emotion in the large woman. Leaning forward, she grabbed another piece of wood and threw it on the fire. They watched the flames erupt and the sparks leap into the night sky. It was a bit like them, full of heat and just awaiting the fuel to burst into flame.

“So… back to my story.” A moan escaped the French woman drawing a quiet chuckle from the blonde. “Oh, come now. What am I supposed to do?”

“Go to sleep? But that is probably too much to ask for.”

“Not quite yet. Now… it can’t be my bedroom because there is no room for a mirror on the ceiling. The skylight is there.”

“I like that… how you say? Skylight? Très bien. I would not want a mirror there.”

“Okay. How about our bedroom? So, there is a mirror on the ceiling. Not the mirror. That will hang on the wall because it would be too heavy for the ceiling. Besides, it deserves better than the roof.” She had her partner’s attention, now to weave the magic…

“Now for the bed. The four posts have to go. I like to move around and the last thing I need is to be constantly hitting my shins on the wood.” Dale could feel the laughter rumble through her partner’s chest, tickling the nerve endings in her back. “Then again, maybe just two, then we can keep the other two for when I chain you up and have my wicked way with you.”

“Chain me u…” Françoise was confused. “What?” Had she misunderstood? “You… you…” She was nearly afraid to ask. “…follow the teachings of…” Françoise took a deep breath loathe to say the name. “.. Du Marquis de Sade?”

As the French woman spoke, Dale could feel the easiness gone from the long body behind her. This was an important question and one that held more meaning than a casual conversation. “The Marquis de… of course not! What on earth gave you that idea?”

“The bedpost… the chains… the…”

“Get that out of your head right now. I know of him, but that’s from the history books. Anyone who believes in that stuff is sick.” She had said the right words. “I was just joking, my love. I would never do anything that you didn’t want me to do.” She smiled impishly over her shoulder, trying to infuse some levity into the heavy conversation. “I was just trying to shock you, and it looked like I succeeded.”

“That you did, ma chère. I… I…”

“What does it mean to you?” Dale was afraid to look into those eyes, instead settling her vision on the flames in front of her.

“Nothing, chérie. Nothing at all. I am not a…”

“Fan?”

“Fan? Un éventail? What is that?”

“Well, it means what you think it means, but in my time it also means someone who is an admirer of a person or a thing.”

“Oui. I am not a ‘fan’ of Le Marquis.”

“I never thought you were. I remember you even teasing me about it.” After a few moments of silence Dale broached the subject. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

Just when she thought she would not receive a reply, came the answer “That was in a place where my life did not mean a lot, chérie. This is different. My time, my country, my war.”

“Do you want me to continue my story?” The moment was gone and she knew it.

“Please… non. I am tired as I am sure are you.” With those words, Françoise ended the conversation, pulling both Dale and the blanket close to her before she closed her eyes. Dale didn’t answer but spent some time gazing into the orange glow and contemplating the turn of events.

* * *

The next morning turned out to be quite pleasant, despite the uneasiness of the night before. The air was brisk until the sun finally peeked through the dense forest. The silence was both a comfort and a source of irritation for the young American, only softened by the warm, sleepy cocoon she was engulfed in.

“Bonjour, chérie. Did you sleep well?” The tall French woman had a massive backache from leaning against the downed log, but she wasn’t going to tell her companion that.

“Scrummy. And you?”

Françoise chuckled. “You and your quaint American sayings.”

“And you don’t use quaint French sayings, chérie?”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don’t you dare!” Dale snuggled in closer, her nose digging around for warm flesh. “Ah hah!” came the muffled reply.

“Mon Dieu, Dale! Stop that!” Instinctively Françoise tried to back away from the tickling tongue but she had nowhere to go. “We need to start our journey, chérie.” They had limited food and neither of them were hunters, so if they didn’t want to starve they needed to cover a lot of ground in the daylight.

“Fine, fine. You are no fun, my sweet.”

“Your time will come…”

“Yeah, yeah. So you keep telling me and I’m still waiting.” The cool dawn air hit her face as she pulled her head out of the warm blanket. “Jesus, that’s cold!” She refused to emerge from the blanket, content to sit there while her lover poked at the remnants of the fire. After much cajoling, muttering and swearing the fire finally relented and burst into flame, greedily eating up the wood placed on it.

The cold rations for breakfast were not welcome but the hot tea was, finding the cold recesses of the body and mind to wake them to a new day.

* * *

The journey was pleasant enough. The sun played hide and seek with the clouds, and despite the grayness it refused to rain, for which they were eternally grateful. Françoise studied the Loire River as they traveled, watching it slowly grow in width as they ate up the miles towards their destination. As she had expected the path was nearly deserted, passing only two travelers in the whole day. She could see that Dale was tired and sore and pushed on a little farther before finding suitable cover.

“There…” She pointed to a break in the tree line, guiding her horse carefully through the ragged undergrowth. They rode the horses on for a few minutes, picking a winding path carefully through the rough terrain. “Ahhhh…” Françoise pointed towards a small rock outcropping, the soil underneath eroded away to reveal a low cave.

“Did you plan this?” Dale asked suspiciously.

“I am good, mon amour, but even I cannot foresee such things.”

“Couldn’t you just let me think you’re some sort of sorceress or something? You certainly bewitched me.”

“If you wish. I will not stop you thinking such thoughts.” A wide grin touched those lips, enchanting the blonde to the point of adoration. “Come. We have things to attend to, n’est-ce pas?”

“Indeed we do.” Reluctantly Dale slid off the back of the torture rack she had been riding all day, her legs collapsing under her own weight. “Does this get any easier?”

“In a year or two, ma chérie.” The answering groan drew a chuckle from her chest. “You rest and I will collect some wood.” Françoise tied the horse off to a branch nearby, removing the saddle and wiping down the lathered beast. After she repeated the chore with Dale’s horse the brunette went in search of firewood. She looked over her shoulder to see her lover gingerly walk around trying to prepare a fire pit and winced in sympathy. Maybe later she could give her a massage to ease the ache.

* * *

“Well, well, little one. Out in the woods alone?”

Dale looked up from her kneeling position to see two grubby men standing there. She didn’t understand the words but the intonation told her everything.

“Françoise!” She called out urgently, hoping against hope that she was within earshot. She called again, her voice more frantic than before.

“Let us see what you have for us.” The bigger of the two of them moved towards her, a massive club in his large hand. She could not plead with the man so she screamed, backing away frantically in an effort to put space between them. “Now that is not nice, chérie. You do not want to go scaring young Gaston here.” A gigantic hand flew out and grabbed her dress by the bodice. “Well, well, sweet one. I think you may have something for me.” The younger of the two men was scavenging through their belongings looking for valuables, while the older one was intent on having her.

Dale was in abject terror. The seriousness of their situation hit her like a tornado. She tried to bat away his hand in the hope of escape but he had a firm hold, steadily pulling her towards his ugly face. She could smell the stale sweat and alcohol-soaked breath from the ground, the foul smell getting stronger as she was unwillingly dragged towards the hulking body. The cloth began to tear, about to reveal her breasts to the man. Quickly her hands went to the tear, vainly trying to hold the cloth together.

“You make one more move and I will cut your throat!”

Dale knew that voice, even better than her own. She felt that familiar rush of excitement and couldn’t stop herself seeking out her lover’s face.

There she stood, like some Olympian goddess, already in motion to come to her aid. Raven hair fanned out as she sought out her enemies and then finding Dale. Her lips were curled back to reveal a snarl, her teeth grinding together in anger. Deadly sparks flew from her piercing blue eyes, pinning the giant with her gaze.

“Gaston!” The massive head nodded towards Françoise and the wiry young man complied.

Swinging his club with a certain amount of competence he moved in swiftly to finish the fight before it began. Françoise drew her sword, her heart beating frantically in anticipation of her first real fight. Fighting Gérard was one thing but a real life-or-death battle was another.

The big brute turned his attention back to the small woman, his eyes raking over her rapidly exposing body. “Now, little one. You will be nice to old Jacques, will you not?” Dale spared a glance at her lover, seeing that she was occupied with keeping the lad at bay. She was on her own.

Françoise looked over to Dale. The fight had to finish fast before it was too late. “Dale!” she screamed. “The pistol! Use the pistol!” The sight of the small woman being towered over by the hulking ruffian galvanized her into action, her determination doubling in an effort to get to Dale.

Dale looked around for the item in question sitting on the ground. With a rough push she landed on the hard earth, the wind knocked out of her. Before she had a chance to react a large smelly body was on top of her, searching for a way to get to her. Her hand flew out to land on the gun. Instinctively she grabbed it and shoved it in his face.

Jacques backed up, holding up his hands in supplication. “Now, now, there girl. There is no need for violence.” Dale had no idea what he had said but she knew he was begging.

Françoise wrestled the young man to a standstill. “Get away from her before she puts a hole in that thick head of yours.” She supplied the words that Dale could not. Returning to the fight, she only hoped that the sight of the gun was enough to hold the robber at bay until she could get to her wife. Her wife. How she wished she could make that come true.

Dale was shaking like a leaf, barely able to hold the pistol still.

“Cock the hammer, chérie.” She continued the fight, inflicting a slice across Gaston’s abdomen, forcing him to step back. “Dale! Dale!” The woman was frozen. “Pull back the hammer on the top. Pull it back!”

All thought had flown and was replaced with survival, instinct and terror. Françoise’s blade cut through the air with lethal intensity, forcing the young man even further back. He was drawing her away from the danger. With a moment to spare she reached into her boot and drew out a dagger, throwing it at the large back without much planning or thought. She hadn’t thrown a knife before but she gave that thought no mind as the steel left her hand, swirling through the air to plant itself in the middle of the target.

The behemoth began to move when he realized that the gun wasn’t primed and reached for it just as Dale did as she was told. The blade pierced his back and he lurched forward, pulling the gun out of Dale’s hand, causing it to discharge. The shot exploded into his face at such a short range. “Arrgghhh!” He collapsed, lying on the ground as even then his lifeblood flowed from him.

Driven on by fear and a savage need to reach her lover, Françoise didn’t think twice about plunging her sword into the young ruffian’s chest. The sensation of metal sliding along tissue, muscle and bone was a strange one indeed, and it was one that she knew would stay with her for a long time. But not now. There was no time for remorse or celebration. Dale needed her.

Dale stood there mesmerized, unable to tear her eyes away from the grisly scene in front of her. What had she done?

Françoise approached carefully, seeing that her young blonde was in shock. “Chérie? Dale?” Vacant eyes tracked up to her. “Are you alright?” The small woman cringed when Françoise tried to touch her, taking in the faint red spatter on her white shirt. “Come… come.” She waved her hand gently and welcomed the rush of the small body against hers. Wrapping her arms around the shaking woman, she crooned gently to her. “It is all over chérie. Everything will be fine.”

“No it won’t. I… I killed him.”

“Non, chérie. It was the knife in his back that sent him to grab the pistol. It went off when he pulled it out of your hand. It is no one’s fault.” The tall brunette tipped up the humbled face. “You hear me? You did nothing wrong, Dale. If anyone is to blame, it is them. They came here to… rob us.” Bright blue eyes dropped to the torn bodice for a moment. It was so close. Too close.

“You…,” Dale sobbed, “… you warned me and I didn’t listen. It’s all my fault.”

“It is not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is me.”

“No!” Dale sobbed harder. Wasn’t it just like her lover to take the blame for this? “No!”

“If I had accepted imprisonment in your time then none of this would have happened.”

“And I would not have allowed it.”

“Well, then chérie, stop blaming yourself for this. This is a dangerous journey, I had told you that. Now you know.” She pulled the young woman close into a warming embrace. “Now you know…,” she whispered. “Come on, you get the horses ready and I will… finish with these two.”

“Why?”

“There is still a little light and we can find somewhere else to stay.”

“We don’t have to…”

“Chérie, I can see that you are upset. We do not need to stay here.”

Dale knew that she was right. Sleep was going to be difficult at best without the thought of two bodies only a few feet away. As she busied around collecting their belongings Françoise searched the robbers, distastefully reaching into dirty, smelly pockets for anything of use. She turned to watch her young companion a number of times, feeling a sense of guilt at taking from them as they were going to take from her, but hard times had left her no choice but to resort to desperate measures. Wasn’t that what these two men were doing? Robbing from the not so rich to feed themselves? She shook her head. She didn’t start the fight but she sure as hell finished it. As she looked one more time her eyes touched the sad green ones of Dale. Too late. “No good to them now…,” she muttered. In her hand lay a handful of small coin, barely worth the two lives sacrificed.

Despite Dale being upset at the fight Françoise’s body was singing, adrenaline pumping through her like a drug. It had all been so easy… too easy. The image of her sword piercing the boy played in her mind, slow motion exaggerating the feeling of victory in the life-or-death fight. It was addictive and something she knew she was going to have to control now.

There was nothing of real value to scavenge, so with the coin in hand and a recovered cudgel, the tall French woman walked over to help her lover with the saddles. The horses turned to leave, but not before the two women cast their eyes over the bloody scene, one with sadness and the other with the thrill of the fight.

* * *

They traveled for another hour, trying to put as much distance between them and the two bodies left behind before the light gave out. Françoise was worried. Dale had barely spoken a word since the incident, meekly riding along in response to her pleas. The French woman looked over to her riding companion, trying to decide what to do.

She spotted a gap in the brush, steering her horse off the road to take cover from prying eyes. “We will stop here tonight.” Dale merely got off the horse, tying her tether to a nearby bush, not a word passing those lips. She did the same, finally taking the small woman in her arms and moving to a nearby tree. Sliding down the bark, she held Dale in her lap, her strong arms encircling her. “Shhhh little one. I am here.”

Françoise continued to whisper to her, letting the blonde deal with her shock in her own way. The silence had been worrying. “Let it out, Dale. I…” She didn’t know if she wanted to hear this right now, but she said it anyway. “I love you… my wife.” The small body snuggled closer for comfort. Françoise tightened her hold, long fingers gently drawing circles on the apprehensive woman. “It is all over, my love.”

Françoise tilted up the shaggy blonde head, allowing Dale to see everything in her eyes. A gentle smile touched her lips, encouraging a response from the woman in her arms. Ever so slowly she lowered her lips, barely touching the wet skin before pulling back.

Dale was trying to come to terms with what had happened. This is a test… this is a test… she silently murmured. All this talk about divine intervention and she was going to falter at the first hurdle? In her heart she knew herself… knew Françoise. They were not murderers. But she could now see that her partner would do whatever it took to protect them both.

Françoise lay back against the tree, still feeling the effects of the fight in her body. Her muscles lightly twitched as images of the mêlée flashed across her mind’s eye. Gérard had never described fighting like that. She was no stranger to death but this… this was something more exciting, heart thumping…visceral. It appealed to her basest of instincts. Now she was looking for something different to appease the hunger that had been discovered.

Françoise glanced down at the head of her partner, wondering if she was the solution to her restlessness. One hunger had now fed another and she needed to immerse herself in her lover. She had faced death and survived, but now needed to celebrate life. No, Dale was too upset and she would never force the woman to do something against her will. Françoise buried her lust deep within herself, trying to ignore the soft body leaning against her.

Dale welcomed the warm strong arms around her, gently rocking in comfort while she dealt with the pain. She knew she had to put this aside because they were walking into a situation much more dangerous than what they had just been through, but for the moment she was content to just float in Françoise’s love. Oh yes, she now understood. Everything had changed.

* * *

Chapter 2

Françoise awoke the next morning with an aching back. Dale was no longer in her arms but poking at the fire in a daze. What was she going to do? “Dale?” It took a few moments for the young blonde to realize that she had spoken. “How… how are you this morning?”

Dale had spent quite a bit of time in front of that fire, the stick not only prodding the fire but also prodding her mind. She had reluctantly accepted that this was their life now. They were low on useable coin, the gold they carried having to remain hidden, and on the run into danger. Her trusting nature would have to be tucked away for safe keeping. “Getting there.”

“Yes we are, chérie, if we push the horses we should reach the main road again the day after tomorrow. There is rather a nice inn there and I, for one, would welcome a hot bath.”

Dale gently chuckled. “No, I meant I’m getting better. I still have some things to work through in my mind though.”

“Oh… I am not used to all these words you use.”

“In time, my love…” Françoise’s faced beamed. She hadn’t lost her little blonde after all. Everything would be alright, as long as they could get out of France.

“Ah, little one, it pleases my heart to hear you say those words. I… I thought I had lost you.” She looked into those pale green eyes seeing the sadness there. “I am so sorry I was not there to save you from all of this.” That was a guilt that was going to stay with her for some time. How would this affect Dale and to her own confidence in her ability to protect her wife? This escape was a double-edged sword she knew that. The journey would not be without sacrifice. She only hoped that the sacrifice would not be too much.

* * *

They pushed the horses into a steady trot, trying to cover as many miles as they could. Françoise kept up a steady stream of chatter with her partner, trying to keep their minds off what was to come.

“So, where do you think we’ll go?”

Françoise had an idea but whether it would happen would depend on what ships were in port and how urgently they needed to leave. Of course, and most importantly, she needed to find the mirror. It would make flight difficult but she was not going without it.

“There is England, but France is not a friend of England. Maybe Spain or Rome or… the Colonies.”

“America?” Dale felt a twinge of home sickness. “Can we go there?”

“If there is a ship going there, then oui.” She looked at the expectant face studying her. “But we may have to go somewhere else first. Not all ships go that far.”

“America…”

“Chérie, we may not end up there.” The French woman sighed. That look just wanted her to move heaven and earth for her partner. “I will try, ma chérie… I will try.”

* * *

Despite her somber mood, Dale’s logical mind couldn’t help but examine the practicalities of their journey. Absently she searched for various herbs along the way, knowing that at some point they may be needed. Mint for tea made a welcome addition to their meager supplies, as well as sage, thyme and bay leaves. She had found a small amount of willow bark for fevers. Hopefully when they were in Nantes Françoise could search for peppermint, lavender and ginger, and maybe some cloves, calendula and Echinacea to add to her makeshift medical kit for pain and infection. It was one time that she was glad she had persisted with Girl Scouts, the mental shopping list taking her mind off their predicament.

The rest of the journey to the crossroads was uneventful, and for that Françoise was grateful. More than enough had happened that second day.

* * *

They approached the two storey building with some trepidation. This would be their first interaction with people as husband and wife. If they could fool them here then there would be some hope that they could carry off the deception the rest of the journey. Françoise could hear the raucous laughter of drunken men. She wanted to enter the building alone but she was not confident about leaving Dale outside with the horses. Taking Dale inside was fraught with danger, after all Dale was a beautiful woman, but there was no way in Hell she was going to let her out of her sight again. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.

They rode their exhausted horses to the large barn out back, unpacking their few belongings before stripping down the animals and putting them in the waiting stalls inside.

“Come, chérie.” Françoise took a deep breath as she strode across the courtyard, reaching for the door handle to push the heavy wooden board aside to enter. The noise immediately died down, inebriated eyes watching them both cross the floor to the bar.

Dale tried not to look. Low murmurs and lewd chuckling told her what they were talking about. She drew her cloak tighter around herself, feeling like she was naked underneath. She tugged at Françoise’s sleeve. Bright blue eyes studied her, long lean fingers resting on top of her own and giving her a reassuring pat.

“Monsieur, we are in need of a room for the night.”

“Top of the stairs, last room on the right. Three sous.” The deep, gravely voice spoke of a hard life, a life that now awaited them both.

Françoise’s fingers dipped into her tattered waistband, extracting the coinage to pay for the room. She steered her companion towards the staircase, the weight of the saddlebag biting into her shoulder. The wood underneath her feet creaked ominously, feeling the strain of the gold coin she was carrying.

The room was bare but livable. “It’ll do.” Dale muttered, pushing down on the straw filled mattress.

“We deserve better, chérie. This is…”

“…what we have to get used to from now on, Françoise.” It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had not yet accepted their plight. “And the sooner you realize that your old life is gone the better.” Hadn’t that been what she had been trying to tell herself?

“Hmmm…” The tall aristocrat hadn’t even realized that point until now. She thought she had a good grasp on what was in store for them. Apparently not. Laying her hands on the small sacks at the bottom of the saddle bags, Françoise looked around for somewhere to hide them. There was precious little in the room to start with, so finding a hiding spot was near impossible. She crossed to the window and looked out. Their room sat at the back of the building, the window leading to a sheer drop to the ground below.

She looked at the only possible option. Removing her dagger from her boot she sliced open the mattress and slipped the coin bags inside. “Share the rest of our supplies through these bags, Dale.” While the small blonde did as she was asked, Françoise twisted the mattress so the tear was facing the wall. She punched the straw a few times to remove the lumps, standing back to look at the disheveled sheets and blanket.

“Let’s hope this works…” Dale muttered, looking at the result. She went over and tried to make the bed but the weight of the mattress made in nearly impossible to lift. “Oh crap…” Her back complained about moving the extra weight, a twinge causing her to jump. She persisted, finally happy with her efforts.

“I find this thirsty work. Would you like a drink?”

“There’s nothing to hang around here for. Why not?” Dale moved towards the door. “Besides, I could use a hot meal right about now.”

Françoise settled her hand on the small of her lover’s back, steering her through the door. “Your wish is my command, wife.” She could feel the ripple through Dale’s body as it vibrated up her hand. “And maybe later you can continue your bedtime story…”

* * *

“Monsieur, an ale if you please… and a cool water for my wife.” Françoise’s lips tilted at the word. She could get used to that word very easily. Her hooded eyes scanned the room, staring down each and every person watching them. She turned her attention back to the barkeep, throwing a precious coin on the counter.

“I would also like to arrange for a hot bath for my wife. The road has been long and dusty.”

The large innkeeper looked at her stunned, moments before bursting into laughter. “A bath, monsieur? You are joking, are you not?” But her silence told him otherwise. “The best I can do is a bucket of hot water.”

“Then that will do, innkeeper. Thank you.” Françoise handed over the wooden mug to Dale, not even beginning to wonder how clean either the water or the mug was. At least hers was bathed in alcohol.

“Do you have something hot to eat?”

The bullish man just nodded then indicated a bench against the far wall. Françoise sighed. It looked like they were both going to be the entertainment for a little longer while they ate. The tall brunette steered her companion towards the sturdy wooden benches that they would occupy.

Dale had hoped to escape the distasteful leers of the patrons but it was not to be. “I don’t like it here.”

“I have asked for some hot food, chérie, as you wanted. We can still go if you want…” The words petered off, knowing very well that Dale would stay. She wanted the food so she would just have to put up with the bawdy conversation. At least her partner had no idea what they were saying. She only hoped the grinding of her own teeth didn’t interfere with her eating.

Two large bowls were unceremoniously dropped to the table in front of them along with a torn piece of loaf. “Two sous.” Françoise looked up to a surly barmaid who must have been, in reality, not much older than her but looked twenty years older because of her harsh life. Once more, she reached into the tiny cloth bag and took out the coins, handing them over to the woman silently.

The brunette looked down to the bowl, her eyes widening in disgust. “What is that slop?”

“Shhhh. Cover that aristocratic streak of yours.” Dale whispered quietly, for fear of being overheard.” That is your dinner, Philippe.” She sniffed the air, taking in the aroma rising from the plate. “Actually, it doesn’t smell too bad.” She picked up the crude spoon and dipped it into the bowl. Tentatively, she tasted it. “Hmmm… not bad.” She dipped the spoon again, this time taking some meat. “I told you a hot meal was what we needed.” Reaching for the bread she tore off a small piece, dipping it into the gravy before popping it into her mouth.

Françoise poked around the syrupy mixture trying to decide whether to risk her life or not. She tore off a piece of bread and dunked it, shoving it in her mouth before she could change her mind. It took a moment or two for her taste buds to absorb the new sensation, finally deciding that the stew was not going to kill her. As if emphasizing its point, her stomach rumbled noisily.

“Now if you can get that stubborn head of yours to agree with your stomach, you’d eat the food before it got cold.” Dale kept her voice low, allowing only Françoise to hear her.

Françoise smiled benevolently. This was the Dale she knew. “Yes, my love.” For her, anything.

Despite herself Françoise didn’t stop eating until she was mopping up the bowl with the last piece of bread. “Hmmmm…. I must have been hungrier than I thought…”

“More?”

She thought for a moment. The available coin that she had was very little and she could not go throwing around gold coin without arousing suspicion. Françoise patted her stomach. “I am full, ma chérie. Do you wish for some more?”

Dale was not a stupid woman. She saw the momentary indecision on her lover’s face. “No, that was quite enough. Can we get out of here please? I feel like a piece of meat on display here.”

“In a way you are, chérie.” She looked around at the avid eyes watching them… watching Dale. Her rich blue eyes turned to look at the little blonde with their eyes. Dale was a stunning woman, but she already knew that. In fact, she was too beautiful to be a merchant’s wife.

The heavy wooden door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. “Barkeep, eight of your best, if you please!” A man of middling height swaggered in, followed by his seven companions, his muddy brown eyes sweeping the room. “It is thirsty work ridding the world of aristos...” He laughed jovially at his own joke. “Do you not agree, my friends?”

Eights sets of eyes watched the response, hands falling to clubs, pistols, knives and swords waiting for someone to dispute their claim. There was a quiet murmur from the patrons, none wanting to join in the revelry. They only wanted to live their lives, nothing more.

While the other seven men went to the bar for their drink their leader wandered around the room, enjoying the looks of fear in those he approached. A small movement caught his eye and he shifted to the far table. “So citizen, are you not pleased that we are protecting you from those aristocratic scum?”

Françoise bit her tongue until she tasted blood. A bitter remark sat there begging to be released.

“What? You have something to say, citizen?”

A small delicate hand extended across the table to touch her clenched fist. She looked up into those hooded eyes, seeing the begging look there. “No, monsieur. I am sure that you defend the Republic very well.”

“I do not like the tone of your voice, monsieur. Are you for or against us?”

“I have always been a friend of France, monsieur. Never doubt that.”

“And who is this pretty young thing sitting with you?” Without permission, he grabbed the hood and lifted it off Dale’s head. “Well, well, well. You are most fortunate to have such a lovely wench for company.”

“I ask you not to insult my wife.” A hardened edge tinged Françoise’s words. She didn’t like the man and she certainly didn’t like the insult.

“Such a beauty should not be owned by just one man, do you not think so, monsieur?”

“I say again, she… is… my… wife. Step very carefully, monsieur.”

“That sounds a bit like a threat to me. Are you challenging the law?”

“This has nothing to do with the law and you know it!” Her voice steadily rose to match her anger.

“Well lads, maybe this young citizen needs a lesson in manners.” Evils chuckles became louder as the group approached the two women.

“Now now, Justin. We do not want a fight here.” The barkeep tried to intercede but neither combatant was interested to hear what he had to say.

“You know what? You are a coward, monsieur. You hide behind the name of the Republic to rape, rob and pillage. You, monsieur, have no honor.” A collective gasp echoes around the room. The gauntlet had been thrown down.

Dale’s eyes widened at the scene unfolding in front of her. She had no idea what was being said but she could see that Françoise was going to be in a fight very soon. Her blood pressure rose, as it always did when Françoise was assertive, and she was not able to stop the blush that tinged her face. “Philippe,” she whispered in the hope of distracting the woman. Fiery blue eyes glanced at her before returning to the smallish, slightly overweight man arrogantly standing there. Dale felt a familiar thirst that was begging to be quenched.

“Ahhh, she has the voice of an angel. I do not think you deserve her, citizen. Maybe I just might take her from you and show her what a real man is like.”

Françoise’s lips spread into a dangerous smile. If only you knew… “You can try, monsieur…” The smile widened and he backed down, not prepared to test the steel of this tall young man. “Just as I thought…” she muttered as he turned away, trying to recover some of his pride by telling his cohorts that Dale was nothing but a whore anyway. It took all of her strength not to go after the man and rip his tongue out. Live to fight another day was what Gérard had taught her.

After the unruly mob had left, the two women made their way to the bar. “I am sorry, monsieur, for the disruption.”

“No need, young man. They come in once every couple of days and cause trouble. You were right, monsieur. Not that I would tell them to their faces…” He chuckled and watched them ascend the stairs.

* * *

The adrenaline once again surfaced after the confrontation, feeding her already blossoming hunger. She could now see why men liked to fight. She had never felt so alive as in the heat of danger. Azure eyes darkened to indigo, sensual flames flickering in their depths.

“Do you think they’re waiting out there for us?”

“I hope not, chérie. There are in for a long wait if they are.” Even Françoise could hear the rough timbre in her own voice. She needed Dale and she needed her now. The door closed quietly and the two women were left facing each other. “So…” the tall brunette muttered quietly. She grabbed the only chair in the room and wedged it up against the door. If they were going to break in then it was going to take a while.

“So…,” Dale replied, her ass resting on the edge of the rough hewn table watching her companion with interest. “What do we do now?”

“What do you desire…, chérie?” Françoise poured every ounce of seduction and want into her voice as she could. She could see that Dale was fidgety and nervous. Maybe the night was not over yet.

Dale’s body knew what she wanted even if her mind was still a little skittish. “You.” She knew in her heart that everything would be fine. The look in the older woman’s eye told her everything she wanted to know. Dale approached slowly, her nimble fingers reaching for the ties on her cloak. A small smile touched her lips as she watched those vibrant blue eyes drop to her torn bodice, knowing very well what her French woman would see. Her heart beat faster as those eyes darkened with every second. “I want you in my body, in my mind, in my heart and in my soul.” She had no need to voice the words for she knew they had already come to pass. God had already blessed their union by bringing them together across time.

“Your wish is my command, my love.” Françoise approached slowly, not wanting to frighten the woman with her enthusiasm. If she had her way she would already be half-way to granting the woman her wish.

Dale wasted no time in finding the buttons on Françoise’s shirt, her own eagerness showing with every frantic movement. A finger tipped her chin up. “Are you in a hurry, little one?” She was not aware of the lone tear that trickled down her cheek until that same finger caught it and presented it to her. “Talk to me, Dale.” The small woman sought solace in those warm loving arms.

“I… I guess I’m just overwhelmed by all of… this.”

“Not what you expected, eh?”

“No… not what I expected.”

“Are… are you having second thoughts?”

“Of course not. Just give me a minute….”

“Non. About all of this… us…” Françoise gulped loudly. “Perhaps wishing this had never happened at all?”

Watery green eyes looked up into apprehensive blue ones. “How could you say that? I would never leave you, you know that. You… you… do… know… that, don’t you?”

“Yes… yes, mon amour, I know that, just as I will never leave you. It just seems all so…”

“…surreal?”

“What? What is this word?”

“It’s…” What she wouldn’t give for a dictionary right now. “It’s like living in a dream. Things are not quite real.”

“Ahh, interesting word. I shall remember that.” Françoise’s lips gently nipped the pulse point sitting at the base of Dale’s neck, feeding on the sweetness she found there.

“Never doubt that I love you with everything that I am, my love.”

“And I also, mon petit cœur. I just wish…”

“No more ‘ifs’ or ‘buts’, Françoise. We go forward from here in our life together. We do what we have to do to survive.” Did she really believe that? Accepting these words meant that she must be prepared to kill to protect them…. Françoise. She had doubts about her ability to do so, the accident proved that, but she would have to work on that. “I want a long and fruitful life with you.”

“Then I will protect you with my life.”

“No, that life is mine. You protect me with your strong right arm…” Dale smiled sweetly. “…just as I will protect you.” Dale shoved the taller woman against the table, her hands fumbling with the hand fashioned buttons on the shabby shirt. “Now… if I remember, you were supposed to grant me my wish…” Dale tore at the bandage around The French woman’s chest. Pale skin came into view, drawing her eager lips to the exposed soft skin. Those lips moved to a neglected breast, circling their target before pouncing with vigor, drawing a sharp hiss from her lover.

“Oh God, chérie! How do you do this to me?” The sweet agony Dale’s lips, tongue and teeth inflicted tore through her body. “Every time…” she whispered. A knock on the door threatened to destroy the intensity of the moment. “What do you want?” Françoise growled, blazing blue eyes possessing the excited green ones watching her.

“Your hot water, monsieur!” The voice was that of a young lad.

“Leave it at the door… thank you.” The brunette spared a moment to soften her voice before returning to the soft hands roaming down her body. “You… are… a… mon Dieu… a… troublemaker.” The hand stopped for a second, resting on the lump in her pants before continuing, caressing it as if it were a part of the French woman. The image it presented to the tall woman was nothing short of predatory. Who was going to have who? Dale’s lips resumed their wandering while that small hand never wavered from caressing her.

Françoise’s thoughts centered on where that hand was, images of what might be if she could lay her hands on… the chance of that happening now was small at best. Even the most basic of items would be hard to obtain, let alone something more… exotic. But what she would do to this woman if she had one. For now, it had to remain a fantasy of her fertile imagination.

The momentary distraction did little to cool the fire in the pit of her belly. It had been simmering since the fight and showed little sign of abating. Françoise batted away Dale’s hand and nearly ripped off the buttons as she attempted to move away the leather blocking her lover’s access. The almost vicious action telegraphed her urgency and Dale wasted no time giving the French woman what she wanted.

In the blink of an eye Françoise’s breeches were around her ankles, laying her bare to Dale’s advances. Moist lips left a wet trail as they sought her out finally circling the source of her need. There was an almost audible sigh as Dale latched on and drew her in, the suction almost painful as Françoise was swept away. She had been riding a knife edge for quite a while and her passion was paramount. It had been held back for too long and now it was like a dam breaking, the sudden rush of completion flowing over her nearly drowning her with its intensity. But it was not enough… not nearly enough. It left her with a need for more.

Dale could feel the darkness slip away as Françoise responded as only she could. While the images of the assault were still fresh in her mind, they did not hold the menace that they first did. Françoise was there to protect and love her and that was enough. She watched enviously as the French woman threw back her head and shuddered. Very little sound came this time, her face contorted in what she assumed was intense pleasure.

Before Françoise had a chance to ground herself Dale had moved, her fingers slipping into her easily and quickly in an effort to continue the pleasure. The table creaked as her fingers gripped the wood tightly, nearly snapping off splinters as Dale played her. She could barely breathe as all her attention was on those two active fingers that moved in a constant rhythm.

Françoise tried to watch, she really did, but she had very little control over her own body so intense was her response. There was no up or down, back or forward. There was only being. She tried to spread her legs to gain more but the breeches pooled around her ankles had her effectively tied.

Dale could easily read her lover’s intentions and was eager to comply. She shifted her stance to allow her hip to add weight behind her hand. Anchoring one hand to Françoise’s hip, Dale began rocking steadily against her other hand, making the movement more forceful and increasing the gratification ten-fold. The table creaked ominously with each thrust and Dale looked into storm-tossed eyes for some guidance.

“If you stop now I will kill you,” Françoise murmured. She had no idea what she was saying, only expressing the need to continue.

For a second Dale blinked. Had Françoise said what she thought she had said? It was ridiculous to assume she meant it and dismissed it as the ramblings of a mad woman. She increased her tempo slowly, allowing her thumb to come into play.

It struck like a lightning bolt, washing away the animal hunger that had been residing in her and replacing it with an all-consuming need to love and be loved. Dale had been the perfect choice for her, and for that she thanked God. The woman had balanced the darkness that had been part of her life and showed her love in all its infinite designs. To make it perfect she wished that Dale was in that place as she was at that moment.

Dale watched Françoise unravel before her, eyes closed shut and her bottom lip quivering. She wasn’t sure whether her lover was crying or not, but knowing the woman as she did it seemed unlikely. Dale slowed down, resting her body against the tortured wood.

There was a certain amount of satisfaction in making Françoise fall apart. The woman was very experienced, she knew that, and to be able to encourage such emotion was very pleasing indeed. She observed her lover sprawled across the dirty table, trying to gain some strength to rise. Even as that thought crossed her mind the French woman rose, reaching for her breeches in one swift motion.

Françoise ignored her state of undress, except for her pants which needed to be hitched if she wanted to walk. She stalked her prey, slowly backing Dale towards the door. “Now…” Her lips swooped down on the twitching skin of her throat, sucking viciously as if trying to draw her life force to the surface.

Dale’s hands grabbed Françoise’s waist in desperation. The lips on her neck were forceful and demanding, leaving her no choice but to surrender. Familiar stirrings burst into life, washing away any doubts she had and led her to that place that only Françoise had the map for.

“Mon amour, je t'aime de toutes les fibres de mon âme.” Françoise murmured in a language that crossed the borders of time and space. “Je t'aimerai jusqu'à mon dernier souffle de vie, et au-delà.” She glanced up from her work to see the result of her words. A tiny shudder shook the frame under her lips and she couldn’t help but smile

“Oh God, that still works,” Dale’s voice had dropped to a seductive whisper. “Say some more…”

“La flamme éblouissante de notre amour fait pâlir les étoiles dans le ciel.” The language was sensual and mysterious, appealing to Dale’s basic instincts.

While her lover was wrapped in a verbal haze, Françoise’s fingers found the edge of her torn bodice and pulled gently down. It would be so simple to just rip the clothes off the woman but a small kernel of common sense whispered to her that Dale only had one dress.

Françoise reined in her wildly escalating libido and tugged at the décolleté to reveal more and more skin until Dale’s breasts were freed from their cloth prison. The barrier now removed, Françoise gave herself permission to ravage. And so she did, being neither gentle nor slow.

Dale felt the storm approach even before Françoise touched her. Gone were the tender caresses and loving declarations. She was assaulted by the tidal wave of their physical attraction, driving her towards her peak so quickly that she couldn’t remember the journey. One moment her lover was suckling at her breast, the next thing she remembered was the woman doing the same thing lower, expertly bringing her to such completion that she blacked out for a moment.

“Damn…” Dale’s senses returned a moment later.

“What, chérie?” Françoise uttered between moist kisses.

“I missed it. I must have passed out. Can you do that again?” Meekly she glanced down at her partner on her knees in front of her.

“Certainement.” That one word was said with absolute conviction that it gave Dale goosebumps. "Avec plaisir…"

* * *

“You dare disobey me?” Le comte’s voice was at odds with his words. While the inflection held menace his timbre was weak, sounding nearly like a boy speaking.

Françoise cowered back. He was a portly man in his late fifties but he still commanded fear.

His hand rose to strike a blow, the riding crop in his fist singing through the air as it descended…

Françoise awoke in a light sweat. It took a moment or two to become aware of a loud banging on the door. “Monshhieur!” The incessant thumping reverberated through her brain.

“What… what’s going on?” The sleep-tainted voice of Dale drew her attention away from the door.

“Shhhh Go back to sleep, chérie,” she whispered, trying to lull her lover back to slumber.

“Open up! I wishhh t..to… ummm…” The voice dropped to a gentle mumbling before the owner once again pounded on the door. “Come and faaaaccee meeeee, monshh…,” he slurred, the intonation reeking of alcohol.

Annoyed she arose, quickly donning her disguise. It took a moment to light a candle, drawing the ire of the person constantly bashing on the door. Removing the chair she wrenched the door open, sword in hand, to face the annoying little man from earlier in the evening. She was pleased to see that he was alone so any violence was with him alone. “It is the middle of the night. What do you want?” Françoise thought she had settled the matter of who Dale belonged to. Maybe he didn’t hear her the first time.

“I am looking for you.” His portly body swayed in the dim light

Her large hand came up to his chest, effectively blocking his entrance. “This bed is taken. Try another room.” Françoise looked out the door. “Where are your companions?”

“Out there…somewhere. But I do not sleep with the likesh of them… hmmmm…” Muddy eyes closed for a moment and Françoise wondered whether the man had fallen asleep where he stood. “I am... I am… I do not like the open air and the hard ground.”

“I do not care if your life depends on it monsieur, you are not crossing this portal.” To prove her point the sword rose to sit level with his chest. “Now leave us alone!”

The vigilante leader reached for his crotch to give it a scratch. Lovely. Françoise’s mind screwed up its nose in distaste. “Refushing a…a…errr… son of the Republish? You have made a dangeroush enemy tonight, monsheeuurr! You be… betterrrr watch your back!”

Françoise had had enough, prodding him with the tip of her sword. “Go away, little man!”

The staircase creaked as the darkness slowly gave way to a lone candle. “Justin?” The deep gruff voice of the barkeep drew their attention away from the confrontation. “Come, back to bed.”

“Non.” The scraggly-headed man shook his head violently, nearly causing him to lose his balance.

“There is no bed here. Marie is waiting for you…”

Françoise watched the exchange with interest. Who was Marie?

“Go and sleep it off, Justin. There is nothing here for you.” Both Françoise and the barkeep watched as the tipsy man wandered off, holding their breaths as he unsteadily negotiated the staircase to the bottom. There was a thud a moment later, accompanied by a rather virulent curse.

“I am sorry for the disturbance, monsieur. He does not like to be taken down like a stag in the forest, especially in front of a room full of people.”

“Then he should not have insulted my wife, monsieur.” Despite the portly man’s pleas, Françoise was still seething at the affront.

“Marie will calm his temper. She always does.”

“If he already has a bedmate, why is he seeking out mine?”

“Bed…” He chuckled. “Non, monsieur. Marie is his sister… my wife.”

“Oh. I am sorry, monsieur…”

“Non. Justin is a troublemaker. He always has been and always will be. It is only because he is my brother-in-law that I put up with him at all.” In the dim light, he gave her an apologetic smile. “It would… I think it would be better if you were not here for breakfast, monsieur.”

“You may be right. I do not want any trouble.”

“Goodnight then and safe journey.”

“Goodnight, monsieur.” She closed the door, causing Dale to stir. “Back to sleep, ma chérie.”

“What’s going on?” Dale smacked her lips as the lethargy dropped away from her.

“It was that troublemaker from earlier in the night. First he wanted you, now he wants our bed.”

“Well, it’s occupied and I’m not about to give it up.”

“I told him that. But he was insistent. Maybe he wanted the bed warmer rather than the bed.”

“That weasely little man? Ewwww gross. Besides I only have one bed warmer in my bed, my love, and I’m looking at her.” Dale snuggled into the tattered blanket to feel its warmth. Delicious memories filled her mind of their play earlier in the evening, spreading a sensual lassitude over her body. “Come back to bed Françoise.” She pulled the blanket back invitingly, letting the French woman see her naked body. A seductive smile touched her lips as she saw those blue eyes darken.

It was all so impossibly easy. They had known each other a scant few weeks and yet they blended together like they had known each other all their lives. Maybe they had. They just hadn’t met until recently. What should be a situation that should scare her, she liked the fact that if they were any closer they would be living in each other’s skins. It was comforting, it was exciting… it was right.

Dale watched intently as Françoise disrobed, studying the play of muscles as they moved under the pale skin. She would never tire of seeing her naked, stripped of all but who she was. There was no disguise, no pretense and no hiding.

The tall brunette sauntered towards the waiting arms of her lover, watching those eyes skim over her skin. Desire spiked through her. Again? So soon?

“Do you think he’s going to be a problem?”

“Maybe. If he can remember it after he wakes up.” She made a decision. “I do not think we should put off leaving until the morning, chérie.”

“Then maybe we better stay awake.”

A sly smile crossed Françoise’s lips. “Absolutely…”

* * *

Despite her best intentions Dale fell asleep, cuddled up in the warm loving arms of Françoise. The French aristocrat lay quietly, her hand idly drawing circles on the warm skin lying over her. Her mind floated peacefully as she looked out the window at the night sky, contemplating the events of the previous night with a lot of affection and some concern.

Her eyes drifted to the crown of Dale’s head. The small woman had no idea what a lifesaver she had been. Françoise had been living her life with a careless disregard for her own health, and she knew that sooner of later she would fall victim to some disease or other, but she didn’t really care. Her husband had stripped away her dignity, her self-respect and her will to live, leaving her living an empty life. Until…

Until that night with Madeleine… she didn’t know what made her open her eyes at that particular moment, but she did. Looking up into the mirror she expected to see nothing more than the reflection of her having sex with… someone, anyone, it didn’t matter anymore. But, as if standing at a window looking in, was this waif, this angel, watching them… no, watching her as she sought her pleasure. And yet she could feel her, feel her excitement, feel her loneliness, feel her pain. From that very first moment the woman had stolen her heart and saved her from herself.

Now that same woman was fleeing with her from danger. Because of her, Dale had given up her home, her family and her time to live in a time fraught with danger. Why did Dale do that? Why did she allow it? Because it meant to save Dale she would have to leave her, and she could no more do that than cut off her right arm. Maybe Dale felt the same.

Her thoughts turned to the annoying little man who had been bothering them all evening. She could not blame him for his need, after all Dale was a very beautiful woman, but his arrogant supposition that all he had to do was ask and he would get her made her burn. It was hypocritical of him to claim to be protecting the Republic when he himself was acting like a bully. She didn’t act like that, did she?

She, and those of her class, had been born to the life, carefully nurtured and taught the expectations and liberties of that life. Here was a man who aggressively sought out power and was blatantly using it for his own ends, claiming his rights with intimidation and violence. Were the people any better off with this kind of man protecting them? She could not afford to stay around to find out.

As she contemplated the journey ahead and where they would ultimately end up, the sky shifted from pitch black to the grey of pre-dawn. Françoise shook her companion gently. “Chérie, time to wake up.”

“Huh? I didn’t fall asleep, did I?” Bleary green eyes looked up into amused blue ones.

“That is fine, chérie. We could not move until light anyway.”

“I thought we were leaving before now.”

“And what, Dale? We could not see where we were going.” She gently chided her lover. “Come on. Let us move quickly now before there is any trouble.”

Quickly and quietly they dressed and packed up, moving swiftly to the barn to collect the horses. They led them down the road for a short distance before mounting the nags, nudging them into a slow walk until they were a safe distance from the inn.

“If we move swiftly we should reach the outskirts of Nantes by nightfall.” With that, Françoise kicked her horse into a canter, followed by an answering click of a tongue to move the second horse.

* * *

As expected, they reached the outskirts of Nantes as the last rays of the sun touched the tallest building in the town. The two horses stopped at the bridge that crossed the Loire and led into the township. Françoise was nervous. She had sworn to herself never to return here but here she was. So many bad memories here.

“Are you alright?” Dale glanced over at her companion to see the muscles in her jaw twitching in the fading light.

“Yes, mon amour. Everything is fine. I am tired and this… thing is most unpleasant.” She made a show of grabbing the leather piece in her pants and trying to push it out of the way. Dale would never know what happened here. Never.

“It’s been a long day, that’s for sure.” All those pains she had discovered that first day on the road reared their ugly heads and made her life miserable all day. What she would give for a long hot bath.

* * *

Françoise found a comfortable inn in the centre of the city, the horses housed in a nearby livery. They had eaten their dinner in silence and without interruption, finally taking refuge in their room and a small bath waiting for Dale.

Dale was worried. Françoise had barely said two words during dinner and now she was lounging on the bed watching her bathe. “What’s wrong? Have… have I done something wrong?”

“No, chérie. I am just thinking about what to do next, that is all.” Françoise hated lying to Dale, but they were playing a game of ‘you do not ask and I will not tell’.

“Can we try to get some soap tomorrow?” She held up the rag she was sponging herself with. “Water can do only so much…”

“What about the soap he gave you?”

“This thing?” Dale held up the finger of what she thought must have been a bar of soap. “I couldn’t wash a cat with this!”

“Hmmm…..” It would mean leaving Dale alone, but she would go. It was either that or carry the gold with them. “Is there anything else you need while I am there?”

Dale thought for a moment, trying to make a mental shopping list. “Where are we going from here?”

“I will visit the dock tomorrow to see what ships are there.”

“America?” Could she go home?

“It will depend on what ship we can get passage on. We cannot wait, Dale. We have to leave… now.”

“Fine. Okay. Now let’s see… some needle, thread and some material. Just plain white material.”

“Material? What on earth do you need material for?”

“First of all, I’d like a pair of underpants, Françoise. I don’t like walking around naked underneath. Also…” She really didn’t like talking about this… “I need something for my monthly visitor.”

“You are expecting someone, chérie? We will be on a ship, not at my chateau.”

“No, no… errr… my monthly visitor is my…. Oh God…. my period.”

“Period?”

“You just want me to say it, don’t you?” Dale sighed nervously. “My period… my monthly bleeding, alright? How do you cope with it?”

Françoise’s lips tightened. “I do not have a problem with that, Dale.”

“Why?”

“Because… because… I do not. That is all you need to know.” She left the sentence at that, telling Dale not to ask any more.

Dale tried to process what Françoise had told her. Had she ever wanted children? Was that why she was upset? Or was there something more to this? She could see that her lover had been edgy since they first started traveling on the road. Something had happened here, something that had a devastating effect on her French woman. Something that she knew she was never going to be privy to.

* * *

They had just fallen asleep after a bout of particularly playful lovemaking. Françoise was floating in that state between sleep and awake when there was a pounding on the door. Was this what it was like in the real world? People waking her at all hours of the night? Sleepily, she got dressed before answering the door. “I do not appreciate my sleep being disturbed…”

Before her stood three brawny men, wearing somber faces and batting their hands with clubs. “Monsieur, can I help you?” Françoise felt her voice waiver as she tried to stay composed.

The leader of the group looked her up and down carefully. She felt as if he had stripped away her clothes, leaving her standing there naked. “Where have you traveled from citizen?” The deep voice resonated through her, unnerving her.

“Anjou.”

“And how goes things there?”

Was this a trick question? “Confused, monsieur. Not a lot of news travels quickly to Anjou.”

“And where are you going?”

“That is my business, monsieur.”

“Not tonight, citizen. We are the law here, so I ask you again… where are you traveling to?”

“Home, monsieur.” She felt it best to keep her lies simple. “My wife comes from the Colonies. We were visiting my family here when Paris fell. I am taking her home.”

Dark eyes looked past her to a sleeping Dale, slowly drawing over the prone body. Françoise stepped to one side to block their view. “I do not appreciate you looking at my wife in a state of undress, monsieur.”

At that moment a melodic voice spoke. “Philippe?” Dale at least had the presence of mind to use the right name.

The leader’s eyes narrowed again for long moments, staring intently at Françoise, before turning to leave. “Then leave quickly, citizen.”

Shakily Françoise closed the door, leaning heavily on the wood as her insides trembled. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat from the close scrutiny and her nerves were on edge.

“What was that all about?”

“We cannot stay here chérie. I have an uneasy feeling about this. I do not wish to be here if he decides to come back. Quickly… get dressed.”

* * *

They left by the available ground floor window to the street. There were men everywhere, some standing around outside the inn drinking, others knocking on all the doors up and down the street and others simply leaning against walls watching. The horses were now inaccessible and left them to travel on foot.

Françoise thought quickly. It was the middle of the night. They had very little available money. The city was swarming with guards. They had nowhere to go except the one place she wanted to avoid. “Follow me,” she whispered as they disappeared into the shadows of the night.

They had to detour many times before eventually reaching the dock area, now standing outside a large scarred wooden door. Over the portal hung a swinging sign saying ‘Le panier fleuri de Lucette’.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere where I hope someone will help us.” She was not sure what reception they would get but they had nowhere else to go. Françoise didn’t even bother to knock, knowing very well that this particular establishment never closed.

“Errr… may I help you, monsieur?” The young woman who greeted them was a little surprised to see a young man with a woman behind him.

“I wish to see Madame Didieur please.”

“Is she expecting you, monsieur?”

“No, but she will want to see me.” Françoise’s insides were knotted. As expected, she looked at her hands to see a slight tremor. Her chest tightened up as she saw the approach of a woman whom she knew as well as her own mother.

“May I help you, monsieur?” As the older woman said the words a strange look came over her face.

“Lucette…” Françoise spoke normally to the woman, seeing the hazel eyes widen in recognition.

“Come… come…” Lucette quickly ushered them into her room, closing the door behind them. “Françoise! Oh my God! I thought you were dead.”

“I had to disguise myself, tantine. I… I have run out of places to hide.”

Dale watched as the conversation went on, feeling a tinge of jealousy as the older woman pulled Françoise in a friendly embrace. Another secret she was not privy to. It seemed that her lover had a lot of hidden secrets. Dale blushed as the conversation seemed to have turned to her.

“And who is this young woman?” Lucette was intrigued.

“This is Dale. She is my…” What could she say? The love of my life? My lover? “…wife.”

“Épouse?” Lucette looked closely at the woman who had captured this wild young woman’s heart. There was obviously more to the small blonde than just looks. “So… Dale. I am pleased to meet you.”

“Et bien… Dale. Je suis enchantée de faire votre connaissance.” The words should mean something, Dale knew that, but her French was still very poor.

“She cannot speak French, tantine. She comes from the Colonies… America.”

“Ahhh… America. Bien.” Lucette thought for a moment, marshalling her thoughts. “ ‘allo Dale. I... am… please… meet you.”

“Moi aussi, madame.” Dale looked over to the benevolent smile on her lover’s face. “Did I say it right?”

Lucette went to the door and opened it, calling for the same young woman who had greeted them. “Amélie, prepare the back room for our guests please.” She handed over the key to the locked room. The woman escorted them down a long hall to the last door.

“What’s going on in there?” There was the occasional moan and scream emanating from the various rooms along the way.

Françoise started to blush. “What it sounds like, chérie.”

“Oh?” A sultry giggle touched her ears. “…Ohhhhhh….” Dale could feel the heat tinge her face. “Oh,” she whispered, too embarrassed to ask why they were there.

“Oui…” The French woman could see the confusion on her young companion’s face, surprised when a question didn’t come.

“You should be safe here, little one.”

“What about the others?”

“They can be trusted… sir.” Lucette smiled. “Now let us all get some sleep and we will talk in the morning.” She handed over the key to allow the couple to secure the room from the inside. “Bonne nuit… Dale.”

“Bonne nuit, madame.” The American twang made the French seem foreign.

“Madame? Non… errrr… Lucette… please.” A gentle smile touched her lips as she addressed the young foreigner.

“Then bonne nuit… Lucette.” An answering smile came from the small woman.

After the older woman left, Dale turned to her lover. “A bordello, Françoise?”

“There was nowhere else to turn.”

“They know you in a bordello?” Dale waited for an answer but got none.

“I am tired, chérie. Time for sleep.” With those final words, Françoise undressed and climbed into bed for sleep. Dale just stood there looking at her, wondering what had just happened. Hopefully the morning would reveal the answers that she was looking for.

* * *

Chapter 3

Dale woke to an empty bed. Her hand slid over the sheet to feel the fading warmth. She looked around the room to see that their belongings were still there. Maybe Françoise was talking to Lucette. Inhaling the scent that was her lover, Dale smiled gently. Sights, smells and emotions ruled her life now, her five senses continually painting the loving image that was already imprinted on her soul. She rubbed her face into Françoise’s pillow, bathing her nose in the French woman’s scent.

She rose and got dressed, donning her cloak to cover the rip in her bodice. Opening the door Dale wandered down the hallway, closing her ears to the sounds emanating from behind closed doors. What on earth possessed Françoise to bring them here? The door to one of the front rooms opened and a portly middle-aged man staggered out, his hands fumbling for the buttons on his pants. “Well, well, well… Hey Lucette! Your quality of women is getting better!” He made a grab for Dale’s behind, giving it a firm pinch.

“Hey!” She swung around to face the lecherous man trying to feel her up. Her brow wrinkled as her anger showed. “Don’t… errr…” She stopped, realizing the language barrier.

“What is going on here?” It took a moment for the woman to assess the situation. “Henri, you have had your fun, now back to your wife…” Ushering the man out into the street, she turned her attention to her guest. “Dale… come.” Dale was surprised to see Lucette’s room was empty.

“Where’s Françoise?”

Lucette thought for a moment. “Elle est allée au marché… Errr… mar… mark…