Reflected Passion III:
Reflected Destiny
by Aurelia
SERIES DISCLAIMER: This is an Uber work of romantic fiction. All characters are the sole property of the author.
SEX DISCLAIMER: This story depicts a loving/sexual relationship between two consenting adult women. If you are under 18 years of age or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read them. If depictions of this nature disturb you, there are many fine tales available on the internet that are not based on this premise.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Because of the huge volume of dialogue being spoken in French, I have opted to print it in italics rather than trying to present both the French and its English translation. Where English is spoken it is in normal print.
While it is not essential to do so, it is advisable to read the first two stories from the Reflected series as certain events are left unexplained because they had been covered in the earlier texts.
THANKS: I’d like to especially thank Babel for all the effort she put into checking my French and offering suggestions with the story. She has been with me through this entire Reflection Passion journey and I appreciate it very much. Thanks also to Poe for proof reading the story.
FEEDBACK: I’m always open to comments, preferably nice ones, so let me know what you think at: aurelia_fan@yahoo.com.au
© January 2008
* * * * *
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.
* * *