A cold sensation had settled lightly on Olivia's skin, making it itch, when she had caught sight of the glimpse of blonde hair between the shoulders of the trio of inebriated Palace Guards. Finely hones instincts kicked in. Each muscle operated in tandem with each other, outside the conscious control of her brain. Her mind was too busy churning over the horrible possibilities of what could have befallen Lady Cabot before her felicitous arrival.
Her brain and body reconnected when Alexandra's form molded against her side, and then suddenly there she was, standing amongst the casualties holding a shaking Duc's daughter in her arms. She breathed in the smell of Alexandra's hair, not registering whatever she mumbled as the woman turned her head to hide her face against Olivia's neck. "Are you alright, my lady?" Olivia asked in a low voice, her lips moving against silky strands of blonde hair.
Alexandra murmured something to softly for Olivia to hear, muffled as it was by her own neck. The heat of the other woman's breath on her sensitive skin was giving her goosebumps. Reluctantly, Olivia set her hands on Alexandra's shoulders and stepped back so she could see her face. "I'm alright now, Captain," Alexandra repeated.
Her next words were lost as Olivia captured her lips with her own in a deep, searing kiss. Alexandra's arms, of their own volition, wrapped around Olivia's shoulders, anchoring her as she drowned in the waves of desire that were radiating from every point of physical contact with the Musketeer. The moment lasted forever and was over in a second. She whimpered as Olivia pulled away, and unconsciously leaned in, to no avail.
"You were looking for me?" Alexandra's earlier words finally penetrated the adrenaline fog hanging over Olivia's brain. She thought, momentarily, about apologizing for taking such liberties with the other woman, but the expression on her face made Olivia think better of it.
"Yes, Captain." Alexandra straightened her shoulders and took a step back from the Musketeer. People were staring. They probably had been watching since Olivia's muscle memory took over and she clobbered three men twice her size. "Is there somewhere more private to talk?"
Olivia pulled off her leather gloves and wiped her sweating palms on her trousers. As the adrenaline faded she began to feel rather shaky about the whole course of events in which she appeared to be swept up. "Not and maintain your reputation." She grinned crookedly.
"I'm afraid my reputation, at least in this room, is tarnished beyond recognition. It was never my favorite asset anyway."
That was not the answer that Olivia expected. Her experience with noble women was that while they enjoyed their dalliances, they were more concerned with how other's perceived them than anything else in the world. The appearance of modesty and propriety was impressed on them in the womb. Lady Cabot's brazen disregard for convention reminded Olivia of Abbie a little, but Abbie had never kissed her with such heat in front of an audience. Maybe not brazen disregard, Olivia narrowed her eyes a little to study Alexandra, maybe it was an icy aloofness from the concerns of lesser mortals.
"My quarters then." Olivia offered her elbow and Alexandra delicately set the tips of her fingers on her sleeve, allowing herself to be lead out of the great room and its staring mass of men. The entire situation was eerily reminiscent of the dream Olivia had the night before, except it had ended with the two of them naked, writhing together, and she had awoken sweaty and frustrated.
They made their way to Olivia's room in electric silence. Olivia pushed open the door and held it for Alexandra to enter in front of her. The room was small, square and Spartan. There was just her bed in one corner with the worn blanket sewn in a patchwork of the Benoit family colors, with an old chest at the foot. Against the other wall was a plain shaving table below a little mirror. Alexandra's presence filled the room immediately. It was simply too small to contain her. She paced the length of it, running her fingertip across the furniture she passed. She paused to trace the shape of the Benoit family seal burned into the lid of the chest. Olivia watched from where she stood in the doorway, back against the closed door. The blonde, apparently satisfied, sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands neatly in her lap. Olivia stopped breathing. Was it possible that the lust that had so thoroughly disturbed Olivia all night could seep out of the mattress? Could Alexandra sense the less than honorable thoughts Olivia could not manage? She didn't move or speak.
"You're worried about your letter." It wasn't a question. "You don't need to be." Alexandra bit her lip, working up her courage for her next words. "May I call you Olivia?"
As if the sound of her real name propelled her, Olivia pushed away from the door, taking a few steps into the middle of the room. "No, you can't. No one can. Its not my name." Her voice was angrier then she meant it to be, but the way Alexandra said Olivia hurt her, with a nearly physical pain. "My name is Captain Olivier Benoit, I told you that last night." Perhaps drawing attention her illegal search of the other woman's suite was a mistake; maybe, she thought, it would at least derail Alexandra.
Alexandra looked up from her hands in her lap to fix a penetrative stare on Olivia. It made the usually courageous Musketeer feel very small and extremely scrutinized. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and then turned, walking over to the little table to set her gloves on it, giving her an excuse to hide her face from the blonde.
"Well, Captain Olivier Benoit, I wanted to tell you not to worry about the letter that was in your possession that must have belonged to someone else named Olivia. Though, I question where a man of your moral fiber would have met two ladies like the letter writer and her correspondent." They both knew that neither of them had much moral fiber since they were nearly complete strangers, two women to boot, and had just performed an unseemly display of physical affection in a room full of people.
"I really appreciate your discretion, Lady Cabot." Olivia bit her lower lip. She couldn't think of anything else to say. She hated the feeling of being out of control and here she was, in a situation entirely outside her ability to force it back into a semblance of order.
"This Abigail Carmichael seems to be rather fond of whoever this Olivia woman is. Is that normal amongst your acquaintances? Such close friendships between women?" Alexandra pressed from a different angle, looking for a chink in the armor. Captain Olivier was a magnetic, arousing puzzle that she had to solve. She was compelled to solve.
"I highly doubt that it is normal anywhere." Olivia's shoulders slumped and she was glad that her blush was hidden from Alexandra. The woman was pushing for an admission of some kind of guilt, it was clear, and she was awfully good at finding and pushing Olivia's buttons. "However, I would appreciate if you did not insinuate things about Abigail Carmichael who is…a close friend of the Benoit family." Her sentence ended lamely and it was obvious even to the inanimate chest at the foot of her bed that it was a lie that shielded a larger truth.
There were walls going up almost visibly around Olivia and Alexandra realized now was the time to back off. She leaned back on the bed, unfolding her hands and propping herself up on them. The room didn't really suit her conception of how a Musketeer would live. There was nothing particularly romantic about it, except by its tangential connection to the woman in front of her. She thought that maybe Olivia would prefer for her to leave, but Alexandra was stubborn and until she got what she came for, she wasn't leaving.
"You kissed me, Captain Olivier, and now you can't even look at me."
Olivia turned around, her hip bumping against the table and sending the bowl she used to wash her face to the floor. It clattered loudly, causing both women to flinch. Bending down to pick it up gave Olivia an excuse to take a moment to recover herself. Her hand was steady when she replaced the bowl on the table. "I really don't know what it is you want from me…"
"Alexandra." The blonde prompted.
"I really don't know what it is you want from me, Alexandra." Olivia began to fiddle with the buckle of her shoulder belt, more than a little afraid of the answer.
"I want to know who you are." Alexandra wanted the one thing that Olivia could not possibly giver her: the truth. Unreasonable anger swept through Olivia, Alexandra had no right to the truth. A beautiful, pampered rich girl did not get to force her way into the Musketeer's well ordered life and demand things that she had no business with.
"No. You want a romantic fantasy to play with while you're at court. I'm not entirely sure what sort of imagination you have, but I don't appreciate being the object of it. I'm a Musketeer, and I have a job to do. So, maybe it would be best if you left now and didn't take up anymore of my time." The bitterness in Olivia's voice follows Alexandra out of the room. It lingers around her for the rest of the day while she walks with Lord Chambrett in the rose garden. It pricks at her conscience while she has tea with her father and his many, wealthy acquaintances. It does not, however, make Alexandra any less interested in finding out the truth, or in searching for a way to get close to reticent Musketeer.
***
Cesar Velez had never been the King of Spain's favorite son. He was the King of Spain's only surviving son, and personal feelings had little weight in considerations of inheritance. That didn't mean that the King wanted his son anywhere near him. They had both been glad when Cesar had left for France to attend a royal French gala, and perhaps make political or personal connections that would be useful in the future. Cesar had been less glad to be waylaid by the weather and arrive late for the festivities. People tended to end in unpleasant ways when Cesar became upset.
The royal guests were being seated for dinner when the dark coach marked with the crest of the royal family of Spain pulled into the long driveway. Cesar didn't wait for help from a footman as he sprung out of the carriage. A cloud passed over the moon.