Chapter 1 Return to Normalcy

What I wouldn't give to smell sweet… Jacqueline thought as she rinsed her face over a shallow basin of water in her room. Even now, she could remember the soft scent of her mother's homemade soap, an herb mixture that kept their simple farmhouse smelling fresh as spring though the oppressive heat of summer to the depths of winter. Jacqueline would never know what the recipe was; her mother had always said she would teach it to her on the day before she married…

But that life was over. This was no time to be frivolously thinking of marriage and childhood soap. Jacqueline had to worry about something bigger than her own comforts; she had to concentrate on Mazarin's next plot and the King's safety. With that recent assassination attempt—Stop!

Jacqueline gripped the sides of the basin and closed her eyes. She had already gone down that path. It led to her secret's discovery and the d'Artagnan's death.

Would I of really done it? Killed him? She shuddered involuntarily at the thought. A darker side had been revealed to her that fateful morning, only three days past.

But she had thrown the sword far away. Surely she could just forget about the whole episode and focus on her work. D'Artagnan had beaten her twice during drills since that day. He had gloated for sure, but for once it did not bother Jacqueline. Whenever she had seen an opening to strike, she would see him lying bloodied and dying on the floor.

That brought another uncomfortable thought: his last words had been "I love you."

Almost as if her thoughts had summoned him, d'Artagnan opened the door. Startled and not fully dressed, Jacqueline reached for her rapier. Her arm dropped down to her side when she realized who it was.

"Didn't I tell you to knock?" she spat at him, more annoyed at her own forgetfulness at the door being unlocked than at him. Pulling on her jacket, she looked around for a clean cloth to dry her dripping face with.

D'Artagnan produced one from the table by the door and tossed it over to her. Jacqueline thanked him with a small nod as her replied, "I did. You didn't answer, so I came in to make sure you were okay." He raised his hands in self-defense. Flashing his trademark grin, he continued, "And it is a good thing I did. If Siroc of Ramon came in, they might have noticed that you were a little more… curvy… than the other men."

Jacqueline looked up sharply. She did not think that he remembered anything about the sword-dream, but over the last few days he had continued to give her feelings of deja-vu. He had made a similar comment right before that night…

-----

He opened the door, and I jumped to my feet, scrambling for my sword, fearing an attack. "It's me. Not an assassin, musketeer."

Dropping my weapon, I replied, "You should knock."

"And you should wear your jacket," he said, closing the door behind him. "The King may not know much about women, but he knows that men don't make their shirts so… curvy." Advancing across the room, he went on, "You're taking a big risk moving in here. At least at the garrison you had me to… help keep your secret."

I looked back at him, infuriated at his casualness. "I can't worry about my secret; I have to worry about the King's protection."

"Why? Why now, more than ever before? There's a palace guard, a garrison full of musketeers—we all protect the King."

My voice rose in intensity. "Yes, but only I have the sword. Only I can fend off any attack."

"It's a nice sword, but can you really believe it makes you unstoppable?" I looked down. "We're supposed to be working together."

I sat down on the bed in defeat; he was right. "I could really use some help."

"That's more like it," he said, sounding more at ease.

"I don't feel like I can trust anyone."

"You know who you can trust." I looked up, and he sat down next to me. "Whatever you need me to do."

He looked so sincere that I smiled. "That means a lot to me." His face was close to mine, and he smiled that maddening grin; I had to break the intensity. "Is that how you charm all those women?" I asked in a joking tone.

He broke off his gaze with a slight laugh, "I just mean… as a friend." He locked my eyes again in such an honest gaze that I could only nod my acceptance. I needed more reassurance, so I asked, "But you meant it?"

He nodded back at me, no hesitation. Something inside me started to tug at this full offer of friendship with no strings attached. Before I could comprehend it, my arms were wrapped around his neck and our lips were touching in a kiss.

I pulled back after a moment, looking for a reaction. "Wow." His eyes opened, "That was—"

"Almost perfect," I broke in, shaking my hair from its tied back male style down into feminine curls. "Now it's perfect." I went back to his lips for more.

-----

Jacqueline was jolted out of her daydream when d'Artagnan shut the door behind him and spoke softly, "Are you all right? You've been so quiet and slow since the fight. You weren't hurt were you?" He took a step forward, arm reaching out and concern in his eyes. He could remember seeing her fly across the room and crashing into a stone wall to land on the hearth below with a sickening thud. He had drawn his rapier instantaneously and rushed in with Siroc and Ramon to stop the crazed man from delivering the death blow.

Jacqueline pulled back from his offered hand. "No, I'm fine," came out a little harsher than she had meant it. D'Artagnan regarded her a little distrustfully, and his eyes flicked up and down her body as though checking for a weakness. Jacqueline squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze when she recalled another thing he had said that night, "I've dreamt of this."

"Really, I'm fine," she tried to set his mind at rest with a small smile. When their eyes met again, her cheeks reddened, and she hid her face by intently fastening her jacket's buttons.

Thankfully, d'Artagnan had come for a reason. "Well then, Ramon and Siroc are waiting to go to the Café for breakfast. Care to join us?" That flirtatious tone was back. Jacqueline nodded, collecting her rapier and locking the door behind her as they left.

They met their friends outside the garrison and walked together down the busy street, following their noses. Jacqueline made only noncommittal responses to Ramon's rhapsodizing and Siroc's proposal for some new invention. She still could not forget what she had done to Ramon. He saved my life, and I scorned him, sending him to die in a dungeon!

The four musketeers claimed a back table, and Jacqueline found herself across from Siroc, picturing the look of disbelief and almost horror he had worn when Mazarin had revealed her secret. D'Artagnan sat down beside her, their knees bumping under the table. She glanced at him sideways to see if it was intentional, but found no hidden motives on his face. I really am getting paranoid…

Again, Jacqueline's thoughts turned back to the sword. It's gone, she told herself firmly and focused on eating and trying to act normal.

Well, as normal as a woman hiding from murder charges by dressing as a man and musketeer could be.