His dreams were haunted by the sight of her, his angel of crystal transporting him to another time when he once believed in true love and romance.

Recalling a soft summer's night, the moonlight bathing her luminous at the water's edge. Laughing as the cold water hit her toes. She was so young and impossibly pure.

She had shattered all of those illusions with one fell swoop by her own admission but he still pursued her in his dreams, her hair blowing in the breeze, those sky blue eyes leading him on, teasing him without the need for words.

She lay on the grass and peeked though her folded arms, eyes bright against the harsh grey of her dress, like a patch of sky trapped in the murky waters of the lake. He didn't need to see her mouth to see that she was smiling and happy, lying next to him in the late summer field. They turned on their backs and looked up at the sky, sun scorching their faces while they dreamed of their future and each other.

Athos could hardly believe his luck when she accepted his proposal and later, couldn't believe that she had broken his heart. He had tried every curse word for her he could think of while he sat there alone in the dark after he had thrown her out. Try as he might, he couldn't think of anything that might have made her throwawayeverything between them but the fact that she had gone and he was alone once more was enough. He could do nothing but try to block all memory of her over the years, to no avail.

'Not your usual place of contemplation.'

Her voice broke his bitter reverie as she walked into the tree covered bower where he sat, eyes closed, arms crossed protectively around him. He turned his head to look at her blankly. She gathered up her skirts and sat.

'I know you think you can't trust me' she said softly, looking down at her lap. 'And perhaps you can't.' He wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. 'I should explain myself. But I can't do that either.' She looked across at him, him not knowing what to think. What was he to think? He couldn't forgive someone who couldn't justify themselves. Just how good were her reasons for not telling him her secrets? He had shared everything with her and she had betrayed him. That was how he felt. Although she had shared nothing with anyone else about their secrets, he still felt betrayed. He might as well tell her.

'You betrayed me.'

'I didn't behave rationally, I know. I just can't justify it; I needed you to take my word for it.'

'Are you crazy?' He was shouting now, shaken out of his brooding. 'You think anyone will do that for you without question?'

She sighed, he would never let it go and she didn't blame him.

'I had hoped you might have made an exception for me. I had no right to. But I hoped.'

That floored him. He had expected her to act like it was something he was supposed to have the habit of misjudging people like that.

She stood up and brushed the dew from her skirt. 'I guess I should leave you alone.'

He could hardly believe that once again he had caught her hand and requested her to stay.

'Please.'

They knew it was the worst thing they could do but by now they had gone beyond the etiquette of reason. She had led him upstairs to the attic room tucked away unobtrusively under the roof, a veritable safe for all things that needed to be hidden. The window was open, a soft breeze shivering through the room. She wasn't thinking, bringing him here but right now they needed a place to hide. To hide in between the sheets and forget that anyone else existed.

Gently he folded her in his arms and they lay on the bed, not speaking, barely breathing. His fingers slowly unbuttoned her blouse, rough brown fingers on blue silk. He travelled his fingers to her face, tracing her lips, her cheek while she closed her eyes, savouring the intimacy. She caught her breath as his touch extended past her throat and all the way down to the curve of her breasts and further down. Her hands sought his shoulders under his shirt, her fingers sketching a tempo on his skin, a foreseen tango between the forbidden lovers.

Taking their time, they uncovered each other bit by bit with long lingering strokes, not needing to hide a thing. They had broken every rule and they knew they would have to pay for it dearly but the moment that was calling to them and they had to take it. All the years apart, all the hurt and bitterness encountered in the past were cancelled out just for this moment, suspended in time. Nothing mattered anymore right now but this.

He hesitated for a second, unwilling to break the spell. Reading his mind, she pulled him towards her and whispered to him.

'Make believe it's our first time.'

She felt shivers down her spine as he kissed her neck, arching her back and wrapping herself around him with a drawn out sigh, pulling him deep into her sphere. Their bodies moved sinuously with each other as their power increased twofold, their pulses beating urgently to their rhythm. He trembled as she brought him to the brink of crescendo; her hands lightly scratching his back while her cunt sheathed his thrusts, matching her own urgent breaths with him as they finally exhaled as one.

They lay next to each other, not speaking, barely breathing. Athos turned his head and saw the thing he had feared for years. The imprint of a criminal still seared through her flesh and for the first time, he realised that it affected her more than him, that she had to live with it and it was more than just an inconvenience. It was a curse. He laid his head on her shoulder and stroked the imprint of the wound. She instinctively drew away but he followed her, wordlessly signalling that he meant no harm. She tensed and waited for him to finish, she didn't want him to remember the cause of their breakup just yet. He slid his arms around Milady and whispered to her his final realisation, the one that had taken him the longest to discover.

'It doesn't make you any less beautiful.'

She turned her head on the pillow and looked at him in surprise. 'I thought you had no use for beautiful women Athos.' She was right he realised. He had gone beyond noticing pretty women after her. He thought he had just grown up, become mature ahead of his time. The others joked about his preference, or lack of and he had just let it be. What did it matter to him that women were pretty? They were just a distraction.

But in his heart he knew that he had eyes only for one woman and he hadn't had a chance to see her for many years. Now they were lying in bed together for some inexplicable reason, talking like they were friends for years. That fate had chosen them to have a moment together that they could never had thought could happen was enough to make them question whether they could leave it like this, one fleeting touch and then they had to go separate ways.

'I don't, as a rule. But I make an exception for you.'

'You didn't before.'

She had made him ashamed once again of his past actions.

'I'm doing it now.'

He reached over to her and gathered her in his arms. Milady didn't protest. She couldn't, not after they had shared their most intimate moment yet. Even when they were married, their bed hadn't been like this. They had been young, careful of stepping on each other's toes, not wanting to go too far in case they could never come back. It was fragile, held in their hands timorously, like it would shatter the minute they leaned on physical passion. This was different, this was love developed through the strands of separation, much heavier and dangerous than before. Yet they both craved the strong passion that came with it and had finally given into their desire, the air was light with relief, as if it had been holding its breath over the years and could finally release over the delayed reunion of the lovers, now older and wiser.

Milady asked the question that had bothered her all this time.

'Why did you marry me?'

He twirled a piece of her long silky auburn hair in his fingers while he thought. He had often wondered, especially after the long months that had followed their breakup, why he was so captivated by her.

'I just couldn't let you go. It was like you came into my life and there could never be a dull moment or a depressed evening. I couldn't help but feel betrayed when I found...' He stopped, not wanting to carry on reminding her of the thing that had wedged a gap between them. The badge of shame that she had to carry around with her. He had judged her on it and had piled so much hate onto it that she had ceased to exist like he had used to know her. But now he brushed it from his mind and put it aside. She was more important than that.

'I can't explain.'

He looked at her, her expression wary and scared. He took her in his arms again to comfort her and she took refuge in his firm and reassuring embrace. 'I can't either' she said softly.

'You never told me why.'

'I still can't.'

'Even when I begged you to tell me, still you couldn't. Wouldn't.'

She said nothing. They lay there entwined within each other for several minutes more, thoughts lost in the mist of the past.

The door slammed and he stood there, outlined against the moonlight. The terror caught hold of her and she shrank into the corner of the room, unable to speak. He held her fast against the wall with an angry force, taking hold of her arms.

'You lied to me' he whispered. 'When were you going to tell me?'

She said nothing, closing her eyes to avoid his accusing glare.

'According to that thing on your shoulder, I've married a criminal.'

She said nothing.

'Tell me!' She could hear the anguish in his voice, her heart was crying out to him for not being able to tell but she held onto the wall, desperately wishing he would understand. But he couldn't. How could he? He was a man. What would he know of her situation? She kept quiet, the tears coursing down her face.

He tried to shake her out of her silence.

'Sabine! I'm your husband! Why couldn't you trust me?'

'I can't trust anyone' she whispered.

'You can trust me. I'm your husband' he appealed to her. But nothing would convince her that her secret would be safe.

'Dammit, tell me!' He roared, releasing his grip.

'Why can't you tell me? Who did I marry? A whore? A thief?'

She didn't move a muscle, holding her breath, hoping he wouldn't stumble on the truth. He started pacing up and down, trying to make sense of it all. How well did he know his wife?

'I feel like I don't know you at all.' He sat despairingly on the chair next to the door. 'How could I not know you?'

How could he not have known what had lain behind that white patch on her shoulder, almost blending into her skin? The moonlight had revealed a side to her he had never known existed, a previous life that had been plastered over. The image of his angel had been tainted from that moment on, that glimpse of the fleur de lis burned into her white shoulder, malevolently mocking on her sleeping body.

'Do you think I'm stupid? How long were you going to conceal this from me?'

She hunched into herself and hoped for the storm to subside but there was to be no reprieve.

He could get nothing more out of her, once they had got up, dressed and slipped softly down the stairs, she would say no more about their encounter. Only the faint scent of her perfume still lingering on his body gave a hint to their unanticipated rendezvous. He longed for the time until he might be able to feel the touch of her hand against his although he knew it could never be. It was almost enough to make him forget what he was here for.