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.
* * *