A Powerful Little Love

by smac92

Amorette du Guillory could be a dangerous but neccessary ally to many. Crossing Paths with Athos after many years, she must decide where her loyalites really do lie. Will she succumb to the Courtly secrets and games in a quest for power like her sister once did; or will she stay true to the powerful little love that still resides in a corner of her heart?

6. Chapter 6

I only own Amorette.

It took a lot of persuasion to get onto Du Poitier's land. The musketeers had thought to call upon the family's grand chateau first as Porthos knew a little about the family and thought it better to obtain permission from Monsieur Du Poitier before searching his land. Whilst Porthos had never met the man he had heard that he was not of an agreeable disposition and that his five sons shared this temperament. Thus they found themselves forced to wait outside in a light drizzle of rain as Du Poitier's manservant went to fetch his master. All four musketeers were slightly on edge, Athos in particular. Waiting around didn't sit well with him and he let his horse wander the yard away from the doorway a little as he still sat astride his saddle. He was watching the countryside that sprawled out towards the horizon from either side of the road they had travelled upon and grew more nervous with every second. The landscape as presented to him from this vantage point showed no valid hiding places and Athos sincerely hoped that Porthos was right in his theory that the Du Poitier's owned vast amounts of farmland that stretched far beyond the hills that curtained the rear of the chateau.

He watched as a well-dressed gentleman appeared in the doorway, a defined scowl upon his face. Athos noted that his friends were not invited in out of the rain and were forced to speak with Du Poitier whilst he stood under the cover of the porch. Grimacing a little, Athos turned his horse with a nudge of his knee and moved closer. "If your sons are at home we would need to speak with them," he heard Porthos say as he fell into line beside Aramis.

Du Poitier shook his head gruffly. "My sons are not at home. I'll have you tell me what all of this is about before I even consider letting you roam over all of my land, disturbing my tenants!"

"We don't have much time-" began Porthos but he was silenced with a wave of Du Poitier's hand. He then motioned for the musketeers to enter the house and turned on his heel. Athos groaned but D'artagnan, already dismounted and halfway towards the door shrugged his shoulders.

Aramis dismounted beside Athos and whispered to him "Athos we may be completely wrong about the Du Poitiers being involved in all of this. I don't think we are but we have to be sure. Better to take shelter in the house for a few minutes and get his permission to search his land, it will make the whole business easier. We may also procure some vital information from him."

Athos nodded although he still felt uncomfortable wasting time. He dismounted and followed his friends into a large hallway. Du Poitier seemed the picture of calm, offering them all a drink and motioning for them to take a seat. Both offers were declined by the musketeers and Athos rolled his eyes, growing more nervous with every second that passed. He knew that his friends were not comfortable with waiting either but they seemed to hide it far better than he could in that moment for Aramis gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Du Poitier had sensed his uneasiness too and for a moment he simply looked around at his four musketeer guests as he sipped his glass of brandy. Athos noted that it was very early for such a stiff drink if a man had nothing in particular to hide. He watched their host's hands though, and they seemed steady enough.

"My son Michael was here last night with his wife but he left this morning. I expect he wants to return to Paris." All four men were taken aback by Du Poitier's admittance.

D'artagnan looked confused as leaned forward in his saddle. "We didn't meet anyone on the road Monsieur!"

"Well I expect not! They have only just left the house. They will be saddling their horses and loading their baggage. My son's wife has quite a lot of it; you know what women and dresses are like. Not that it's any of your business. My other sons currently reside in the south with their uncle. Will you permit me to know what all of this is about?"

Athos chose to remain silent lest his anger should get the better of him and D'artagnan was left to find a way to explain their presence. "Monsieur we track two individuals who have committed treason. They may or may not have passed this way. We believe they seek passage to England and your lands provide the perfect hiding place. You are only an hour's ride from the port in Calais but far enough away that anyone searching the port wouldn't think to come this far out. You may or may not be aware if these felons have taken shelter on your land and that is why we have asked your permission to search it."

"And what's it got to do with my sons? As I said, they are with their uncle! You've come here to accuse them haven't you?"

Porthos didn't answer Du Poitier's question and instead asked one of his own. "You've confirmed that one of your sons isn't with his uncle in the south but was in fact here last night! The uncle, is he your late wife's Prussian half-brother?"

At once Athos and D'artagnan shared a look. There was the answer that had eluded them so far. "When my wife died," Du Poitier poured himself another glass of brandy as he spoke. "My sons were taken into the care of their uncle when my wife passed away. They moved south and four of them have yet to return. Michael has been staying with me for a year on and off since his marriage. His wife wanted to be closer to family that resides in Paris. Thus they stay here often."

Athos shifted towards the door a little, impatient to commence their search and wondering if he could slip out of the room unnoticed but Aramis shot him a warning look. Porthos stepped forward as the air in the room changed drastically. "Sounds like your sons spent a lot of time with their uncle; long enough to influence them religiously. We believe that your son is one of the individuals that we currently track and a friend of ours may be in danger. Let's be honest, it sounds like your son is using you Monsieur. He's only here because his wife wishes to be within traveling distance of Paris! Otherwise they would be with their Prussian uncle in the south!"

It seemed their host had experienced enough. He had paled considerably during Porthos' speech and slammed his glass of Brandy down on a side table. With one last look to all four of them he made for a door at the side of the hall and attempted to separate himself from the musketeers, but Athos was ready for the movement and reached the door in time to jar it open with his foot. Du Poitier growled from behind the door as Athos shoved his shoulder into the gap, opening it even further. "The baggage your son is loading?" he questioned as he continued to throw his weight against the door. "Did it include a young woman?"

"Don't be ridiculous! My son is a married man and I won't tolerate such insinuations! If you do not leave my land immediately I will fetch the local magistrate." Du Poitier gave up trying to force the door closed after a few seconds and let it swing open.

"Call the magistrate if you want!" Porthos called from the middle of the room. "We are on the king's business and as such no magistrate has authority over us. Your magistrate cannot stop us searching your land Monsieur. We came here to seek permission to search your land but we don't need it! We can continue our search without permission just as well!"

Aramis appeared at Athos' side and in his hand he held the signet ring they had found in Amorette's home. If Du Poitier had been pale before, now he appeared almost transparent. All four musketeers watched as defeat overwhelmed Du Poitier and he slowly nodded. Not sparing another glance Athos dashed to the door with D'artagnan hot on his heels. "Search the house then meet us at the stables!" he called over his shoulder to Porthos and Aramis as they left the house.

Amorette had not realised just how thirsty she had been until the cool fresh water rolled onto her tongue. The tankard was pressed to her lips gently again and she gratefully gulped down more. She didn't let the moment of sustenance overwhelm her though. She made note of the fact that fresh water was carried to the barn in a pitcher and then poured into a tankard which indicated a stream or river nearby and the more stranger occurrence, that Claire had taken a gentle care with the water and was now using some of it and a piece of cloth to clean some of the dried blood from her face. They were not alone though. Amorette suspected that the man who had attacked her in her home and had appeared to her then as a blurred figure was the source of many new sounds from beyond her eye line. When he finally did step into view Amorette was forced to remind herself of the shape of the ring she had ripped from his finger two days before. It had been a signet ring, that she had known but it was the coat of arms that still perplexed her. She couldn't place just which great house or family it belonged to because it had been split in half, probably after a marriage in which two great families had created an important alliance. One side bore the mark of two stars and that was easy enough to place. That coat of arms belonged to the Du Poitier's. The other side of the crest had not been clear enough for her to make out though and Amorette despaired at the thought that perhaps the undecipherable side of that crest might just be the most important factor in all this. Of course, Du Poitier could be the answer she was looking for and all that Amorette really knew about the man was that he had sons and his wife was long dead. Amorette resolved to give up all thoughts of the ring and simply hope that whoever did find it eventually would be able to draw the right conclusions from the only clue she had been able to leave behind.

Instead Amorette turned her attention to the man who still stood with his back to her. He was taller than her by a fair few inches, but he was not as tall as Porthos had been. The natural colour of the man's hair was hidden by a dark brown wig but that seemed to be the only deception about him for even from the back Amorette could tell that his clothes had been cut and made for him specifically. He moved with grace, and when his bandaged right hand shot out Amorette pushed down the slight bubble of satisfaction she felt. She might have wounded him slightly, but she was still trussed to a wooden pillar feeling rather foolish for not knowing what was really happening. When the man eventually turned away from the barrels to face her Amorette was deeply underwhelmed because before Amorette stood a very nondescript middle aged gentleman. The dark colour of the wig he wore washed out his already sickly pallor and his eyes were blood shot and tired. Just what was it that had drawn Claire to such a man? He was strong though, with thick arms that could probably crush her to death very quickly. So why on earth hadn't they?

Amorette locked eyes with the man who she suspected to be Du Poitier's first born son and wondered why on earth she was still breathing. Claire had told her far too much and by rights they should want her dead. The man watched her intently whilst Claire hovered a few yards from her and Amorette had never felt more scrutinised in her life. His gaze grew more unnerving with each second that passed and soon Amorette felt nothing but repulsion having to stand in front of him. She broke eye contact first and turned to look at Claire who threw her a disgruntled look and moved to the man's side. Claire's coldness didn't fit with the tenderness she had just shown in feeding her fresh water.

"Don't judge me!" Claire's sharp whisper came from across the barn and Amorette would have laughed if the situation had not been so dire. Claire had given up a respectable marriage and position to run with a rebel and murderer and now wished for Amorette to look upon the situation with an open mind. Amorette found that she could not have a lower opinion of her former friend in that moment. She remained quiet on that subject however as she thought it might antagonise the situation further.

Instead Amorette asked a burning question. "Why am I still alive? Surely there's the risk that I could ruin everything for you?"

Amorette had directed the question to Claire, still uncomfortable with looking the man in the eyes. Claire didn't speak though, and slowly Amorette felt her eyes drawn to an olive green gaze that was already trained upon her. The man stepped closer and Amorette flinched slightly. When he spoke there was something behind the words that Amorette found lacking; almost like bread half baked, a plan only half organised. "Mademoiselle you are our ticket into England." The man exuded confidence but there was a note of stress in his voice. "You will get us all passage on a ship and your name will aid us in England."

Amorette began to struggle against her bindings. "Whatever it is you're planning, I won't help you! I'll die first!"

A harrowing chuckle escaped the man's mouth as he moved closer again and Amorette noticed that in his uninjured hand he held a musket. "Hear me Mademoiselle. You will help us in this. In England you will aid us with your good name and its influence to gain us positon and power and you will do so before the opening of the king's parliament!"

A memory stirred in Amorette's mind. "What does the opening of parliament have to do with anything?" Amorette already knew the answer though. The memory of a story that she had been told as a small child grew in her mind like a ripple in an otherwise undisturbed pond. A few years before she was born in 1605 a plot to kill King James I of England had not succeeded, but Amorette suspected that all children of English parents were told the story from a young age. Her eyes darted back and forth between the man and the barrels of gunpowder behind him and Amorette began to understand that that the man before her now thought himself superior to Guy Fawkes and Robert Catesby. There was silence as Claire and her lover shared a look, aware that Amorette had just worked out what they intended to do. "I won't help!" barked Amorette. "You shall have to kill me, for the first chance I get I will speak of what I know! I spent time in England as a child and I know the ramifications of the gunpowder plot! I know what became of those men and all associated with them. Your families and friends will be ruined forever and your names tarnished. By the sounds of it you have no conspirators! Just two Protestants with some barrels of gunpowder who want to kill the King of England? You forget who my father is? I have been in the presence of the men who are charged with the responsibility of the safety of the King and you will not succeed! You aren't really fuelled by religion are you? This fool's errand is all for gold coin and no one will follow you. Religious influence may have gained you some kind of following, but using my money to try to buy the support of English Protestants won't work!"

Amorette could feel his breath on her face as he almost launched himself at her. The words she had spoken rang in Amorette's own ears. For a moment there was only silence as the man stared her down and Claire stood on the side-lines seemingly uninterested by all that was happening. Amorette knew that she would never willingly help these people but she did begin to fear just what lengths they would be prepared to go to in order to force her hand. Amorette would rather die than be a part of such a scheme. Amorette glanced down to the musket in the man's hand and wondered if she could antagonise him enough to use it. "You said you wish to use the name of my father to gain favour in England," began Amorette, "But you are protestant are you not? My name will be of no use to you. The circles my father moves in are not the sort that you would need. My father is catholic for goodness sake! My mother was a French Catholic which is even worse! You will not receive protestant favour, they will laugh at you! They will not wish to buy the throne of England with the gold of a prominent and ruthless catholic peer of the realm. To use my influence would only incriminate you further!"

The man turned away sharply as Amorette finished speaking and she was left open mouthed at his apparent lack of interest in what she had to say. He walked towards Claire who still had yet to acknowledge the conversation and ordered her to bring a cart forwards to the entrance of the barn to load the barrels. Amorette's mouth widened in shock at his foolishness. "Didn't you just hear a word I said?" she cried. The man was approaching Amorette again but before she had the chance to say anything else the butt of his musket collided with the side of her face. If Amorette had not been so securely tied to the pillar she would have flown backwards into the bales of hay behind her, but the ropes that so tightly encased her prevented much movement. Instead all of the momentum and impact was taken by the pillar when Amorette's head slammed backwards. Almost instantly her head rolled to the side and Amorette's shoulders sagged a little against the ropes that bound her. she felt a trickle of blood escape her mouth and watched almost in slow motion as a droplet landed on a piece of paper on the floor; and was quickly followed by Amorette's tears landing like splodges of paint on a canvas.

Suddenly the silence was penetrated by a cold, menacing voice from the entrance of the barn. "Do that again and I will shoot you!" It was followed by clicking sounds resonating in the silence as the catches of two muskets were released. Amorette's head jerked upwards in surprise and she winced slightly as pain seared through the side of her face. Recognising the voice, she tried to ignore the pain as she gazed in the direction of the entrance to the barn. She was met with the sight of two musketeers with their muskets trained on Michael Du Poitier. Du Poitier was quickest to react though and Amorette felt the barrel of his musket press into her skin where her neck met her chest. The air in the barn was thick with tension and for a few moments no one dared to speak. Amorette couldn't take her eyes of Du Poitier as he hatefully gazed at Athos and Aramis. Both musketeers were advancing towards them into the middle of the barn and Amorette couldn't help gasping in pain as Du Poitier pressed the barrel of his musket into her chest even harder. Amorette still couldn't take her fearful eyes from him. Before, she had known that he needed her alive but now that he was cornered with virtually no way out she would be of no use to him. A frightened squawk reminded Amorette swiftly that Claire was stood a little way to the side as a musket ball collided with a wooden beam above her head. Amorette guessed that her former friend had tried to make a run for it and that Aramis had fired a warning shot at her. Du Poitier growled and pulled away from her to shield Claire. Amorette was vaguely aware of someone calling her name then, but it sounded so far off in the distance that she thought she was imagining it. Then all at once a voice so full of music and melody called her name. He had spoken and ever so slowly Amorette found the strength to turn from Du Poitier and look to Athos. Concern flooded his features as he gazed back and it dawned on Amorette that Aramis must have been the first to call her name, and that it had taken Athos' voice to dispel her fear a little.

Aramis turned his attention on her also, and immediately at the site of the blood on her face he lowered his musket and stepped forwards with his other arm outstretched towards her. He stopped short though when Du Poitier bellowed something almost inaudible to Amorette. Aramis seemed to understand though for he held up a hand in surrender and retreated a few steps. Amorette considered then that everything sounded strange and distorted to her in that moment. She let her heavy head fall slowly forwards to look at the floor and found her gaze trained on her droplet of blood that had stained the papers at her feet. When a light breeze picked up and rustled the papers Amorette's attention was caught by a caricature sketch. The breeze died down and the sketch disappeared underneath another piece of paper. Amorette mustered all the strength that she had left in that moment and managed to lift her leg enough to slide some of the papers away with her foot. When she did so, she was faced with a hauntingly familiar sketch. Amorette had seen something very similar as a small child. Before her was a caricature of James I of England upon his throne, and crouched below his throne was a man that she guessed was Guy Fawkes with a barrel of gunpowder in one hand and a torch in the other. Amorette's head jerked up painfully for a second time as she realised that she needed to alert the musketeers to the presence of enough gunpowder to blow up the barn they currently stood in. Desperately she stared at the two men who were heatedly conversing with Du Poitier. Athos' face was puce with anger and his knuckles had turned white with the strain of his tight grip upon his weapon. Aramis seemed deceptively calm in comparison and it was his eye that Amorette caught as he suddenly seemed to sense her gaze. She watched him for a second to be sure that she had his attention and then with her eyes she looked down and then up again. He caught the movement and his gaze moved to her feet, where she toed the caricature paper with one foot. Amorette watched for realisation on his face but found none. Instead Aramis looked at her again and unashamedly winked. How could they already know?

All of a sudden Amorette thought that something above her had shifted and she looked up into the rafters towards the thatched roof, sure that she had seen movement there. Sure enough, a few stray slivers of hay fell lazily down towards the floor and Amorette returned her gaze to Aramis who winked again. Swiftly Amorette was aware of just where the other two musketeers were. Du Poitier appeared not to have noticed the movement from the roof. He was still attempting to spar with Athos. Amorette began to pull on the ropes harder than she had before in fear of what was probably a very unstable roof, made even worse by the two musketeers trampling all over it. A lull in the heated conversation had Amorette turning back to the others in the barn with her. Athos and Aramis still had their eyes and muskets trained on Du Poitier and Claire but there was a new panic there. Claire stood almost on top of the barrels with her hand outstretched, and in that hand she held a lit taper. For a split second Amorette questioned just where Claire had gotten the taper from, but that thought was quickly dispelled when she remembered her surroundings. The whole barn with its wooden beams, bales of straw and reams of paper was a readymade tinder box.

Athos edged towards Claire slowly with his free hand outstretched. "Why don't you come down from there Madame and we can discuss this like adults. If you set alight that gunpowder then you and Monsieur Du Poitier will be blown to pieces, Mademoiselle Amorette along with you. Mademoiselle who was nothing but a friend to you and who, I am sure would have done everything within her power to help you had you only asked. You would wish to cause harm to someone who has been your biggest supporter in these last few days? That is a poor repayment indeed."

Claire's gaze flickered to Amorette and back a few times, but she didn't lower the lit taper. Athos now stood directly below her and Amorette felt the urge bubble inside her to call out to him to run. Athos' words seemed to have had some sort of effect upon Claire for a solemn look graced her features. Du Poitier's low growl cut through the tense silence of the barn. "Do it!" Another shot rang through the air but this time Aramis hit his mark. Du Poitier fell to his knees clutching his shoulder as blood began to seep through the gaps in his fingers.

Claire looked to Amorette who vigorously shook her head at her friend, but in Claire's eyes she saw a note of finality there. She was so lost in the eyes of her friend who stood soberly with the taper aloft that she missed the quick movements of Athos and Aramis as they reached her and began to cut at the bindings that held her. Amorette only realised just what was about to happen when Athos and Aramis gave a loud cry of "NOW!" in unison as the last rope was cut. Amorette had not had the use of her legs for two days and when she tried to put weight on them again, they crumbled beneath her. Aramis caught her around the waist before she could fall and began to drag her outside. Amorette searched for Claire as straw and wood from the roof tumbled as Porthos and D'artagnan succeeded in bringing it down. Her last glimpse of her friend was harrowing to say the least. Claire stood as she had been before with taper in hand, waiting as straw, paper and wood caught fire around her. Amorette called out to Claire as arms forced her through the doorway and into the late morning light. Porthos and D'artagnan landed beside them from the roof into a cart filled with hay and all five of them raced through the field as they tried to put as much distance between themselves and the barn. Just as Amorette began to think they had gained enough distance, they were all knocked off their feet as the force of the blast hit them in a wave of warm air.

Looking back towards the barn from where Amorette sat in the next field, she could clearly see that although the quantity of gunpowder that she had seen was enough to all but destroy the barn, it wouldn't have blown up the houses of parliament in London. When Athos and Porthos returned from their scout of the barn their faces were grave. Amorette knew in her heart that Claire was dead as she had been directly where the fire had broken out but witnessing the quick glance that Porthos and Aramis shared, she knew that something was amiss.

"We've got a problem," sighed Porthos. "Du Poitier's nowhere to be found."

"What? He lived through that?" D'artagnan looked to his three friends in disbelief.

"He's injured!" Amorette spoke up. "You shot him Aramis! He won't be that far ahead."

"We could run him down," muttered Athos. "Aramis you and D'artagnan should stay here with Mademois-"

"And what if he reaches Calais and boards an English ship?" Amorette interrupted. "If he's managed to buy his way on board then I doubt French musketeers could persuade an English captain to hand him over." Porthos nodded his agreement. "I'll come with you; my father's name might have some influence."

Athos scrutinised her closely as she still sat in the long grass. "Are you well enough to ride?"

Amorette jumped to her feet with as much energy as she could muster and although she felt unsteady she didn't show it. "Don't ask ridiculous questions…" she muttered as she wandered off in the direction of what looked like stables.

"You'd better ride with one of us," announced Aramis from astride his horse. "I doubt asking the old man to lend a horse would go down very well."

Athos placed his hands on her waist from behind. "Agreed," he called to Aramis as he lifted Amorette. He placed her side saddle in front of Aramis on his horse and then mounted his own horse.

As the others moved off Aramis folded his cloak around Amorette for warmth. "It will be a rather rough ride Mademoiselle, but you should try to sleep if you can. It will be quite alright, I've got you." Aramis placed his arm firmly around her middle and despite knowing that she wouldn't sleep whilst traveling at break-neck speed Amorette felt a rush of gratitude for him. She did feel safe with the marksman, and so she relaxed her stiffened posture and leaned against him. There was something about Aramis that was overwhelmingly reassuring and Amorette was sure that it wasn't just his dashing Hispanic good looks. Something in his manner told Amorette that he was the gentlest of souls. Although his voice lacked the deep musicality that Amorette sometimes heard from Athos, Aramis had quite an easy quality to his tone that relieved her worries a little. Athos always made her feel uneasy and Amorette was certain that she would always feel that way around him. It didn't help that every time she looked at him Amorette thought about being in his arms, with him speaking words of reassurance rather than Aramis. No, she was glad to be sharing the Journey with Aramis. Sat atop a horse with Athos would have had her squirming and spluttering with apprehension so much that he would have grown tired of her and passed her onto one of his friends eventually.

"How did you know?" Amorette blurted out impulsively. "How did you know about the gunpowder?"

"What Can I say?" Aramis' voice was quiet and slow as he spoke directly into her ear. "We're good! No, we didn't know but we knew that Du Poitier would have some sort of store of weapons. From our approach the barn roof was obviously unstable so we had a readymade distraction. We sent Porthos and D'artagnan to bring it down on our signal. We didn't intend to cause harm, but I feel that I cannot be sorry for your friend's death when I think of what they planned to do. There is something however which I wish to ask you. Did you know that your friend Claire was a bigamist? She was married both to Emile Delaroux and Michael Du Poitier."

Amorette gasped. She had thought Du Poitier Claire's lover, not her husband. "No I did not! Certainly tarnishes their religious plight somewhat though."

Aramis made a sound of agreement and was silent. Amorette was left to her own thoughts of just how little she had really known Claire.

When they reached Calais after a very tumultuous horse ride, they stood on the quay for some time as Amorette tried to spot the English ships and D'artagnan suggested trying them all after a while. Just as they began walking towards some ships flying an Italian flag Athos noticed the bough of a ship come in to port with the cross of St George on the side. Abandoning the Italian one, they all rushed towards the English ship fully aware that someone could easily board the ship unnoticed, due to their hindered view as they moved along the quay.

When they reached the starboard side it was to find a crew member pulling the gangplank up. Porthos called out to the man but was ignored so Amorette stepped forward and called out to him in English. "Good sir! Permission to come aboard? We wish to speak with your captain!"

At the sound of a female voice the man turned sharply. For a second he hesitated as he saw the musketeers stood behind her before nodding gently and lowering the gangplank again. All five of them began to walk haphazardly across the thin strip of wood to board the ship and Amorette decided to take the lead and speak in English. "Your captain?" she enquired as the man watched the musketeers traipse up the gangplank behind her.

"You're looking at him!" he grumbled in a thick west-country accent.

"You are Captain Lewis?" He nodded. "I am the Cometess de La Feuillette."

Captain Lewis nodded again as if expecting her. "Forgive me My Lady but when you wrote you mentioned only one companion travelling with you. I cannot also take these four men!"

Amorette saw him eyeing the musketeers with distrust and frowned a little. "Captain these friends of mine are not sailing today and neither am I. My original plan was for a female companion and I to travel to London, but that plan has fallen through. I fear though that you have already let someone come aboard this ship in my name. My friends and I would ask that you hand this gentleman over to us now."

Captain Lewis shook his head as his eyes flickered towards a door that led down into the bowels of the ship. Amorette felt someone behind her move forward but she held out her and to stop them. They did not need arguments and misunderstandings in French. "I'm afraid I believe you to be lying sir. We know of a man that would stop at nothing to get off French soil this very day. I trust you know of my father, Lord Percy Barclay? He has contacts sir." Captain Lewis shrugged again and Amorette pulled herself up to her full height despite knowing she looked an awful sight. "I must tell you sir that if you set sail with that man aboard your ship to Portsmouth, Dover, Southampton or even up the Thames there will be men waiting to arrest him and you when you make port. There are many other ships along this quay that would be only too happy to deliver my message for a small sum."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Captain Lewis muttered.

Amorette's patience was wearing thin. She was tired and very cold. Her head and cheek throbbed and she felt as if her legs would give way at any moment. With one last step forward she pushed her shoulders back and stuck her chin in the air. Only a few feet from him, Amorette could see into his fearful eyes. "I have no doubt that you know of my father sir. If you sail with that man then you knowingly endanger your own King. Do you know just what kind of trouble you will find yourself in when you make port with him? I have friends in high places in England, protestant and Catholic alike and many of them are within the king's inner circle. Rest assured your actions will be known."

Amorette took a few steps back as she watched a nervous look grace Captain Lewis' face. Ever so slowly he turned to look behind him and then he turned sharply, seeming to have made his decision. He nodded and opened his mouth to speak but he was halted by the sound of a door banging. Du Poitier had emerged from below deck, raced across the deck and dived overboard into the cold water before any of them could react. Amorette ran to the side and Athos was right behind her. As she leaned over the railing to look for Du Poitier she felt his gloved hand land on her shoulder. A shot rang out from Athos musket and Amorette felt the vibrations of it run right through her from the touch of his hand. His arm was still outstretched beside her and for a moment Amorette could only look at it. She didn't want to see the sight of the dead man in the water but at length Athos' grip on her shoulder increased and she knew that he wanted her to look, wanted her to see that it was all over now. When she did look, it was to find French men in a small fishing boat pulling the body from the water. They rowed to the quay-side as Porthos raced down the gangplank. He crouched over Du Poitier but a second or two was all it took for him to look back up to Athos and nod. Dead.

When Amorette finally reached her bed chamber in the early hours of the morning she didn't even bother to take off her dress. Just inside the door she kicked off her shoes and launched herself under her thick blanket and fell asleep instantly, safe in the knowledge that four other beds in the house were occupied that night. When she awoke the next morning, silence greeted her. Amorette had known they would be gone by the time she woke. There was still noise outside though and Amorette got out of bed and watched them saddle up from the window. At some point in the night she had felt uncomfortable and stood to unclasp her dress and corset and let them fall to create a puddle on the floor where they still lay. She slipped a simple house coat on over her shift and ambled downstairs. When she reached the door and wrenched it open Amorette saw four stallions and their riders in the distance. She swore though that the blue penetrating gaze of the last rider turned to look back at her just as he rounded the corner and was gone from sight.

Amorette closed the door again and wandered through the hall, stopping short when something caught her eye. Walking into the dining room she found a mahogany box on the table, and resting on top of it were sprigs of lavender tied with a small silk ribbon. Amorette couldn't help smiling to herself as she pressed the lavender to her nose and inhaled its heavenly scent. Opening the lid of the box she found Athos' ornate pistols lying on a bed of red velvet, and she ran her fingers over the cool metal as she remembered the day Athos had first given her the pistols.

Amorette thought that carriage journeys were never more comfortable than when she was with Athos. He sat stiffly beside her as she kicked off her shoes and let her stockinged feet rest on the seat opposite them. "Oh stop looking so uncomfortable with the whole thing," she muttered as she swatted Athos' arm lightly with her fan. "It's a good day! To think that just a few months ago I was distraught to lose my mother and was all alone in the world and now I have a sister. You'll like her; honestly."

Athos sighed from beside her and continued to stare out through the shades that blocked a little of the glaring sunlight. "I don't like it. I've already told you so. You barely know this woman! Even if she is your sister you have no knowledge of who she is or where she came from! You know my apprehension is well founded. I have a care for you that is all. Besides, people will talk about the silly Cometess who took in her commoner sister and was made a fool by her!"

"Oh Athos! You and I are in a carriage together unchaperoned. People already talk! And as for Ann, she has already proven herself I believe. She did stay with me for a month, and even though now she takes care of herself I feel that I've known her years already." Amorette Placed her feet back on the ground and turned to face him. "I know you are worried for me and it is very sweet of you, but honestly; she's wonderful. You will like her! She is rather wild of course, and she says the most scandalous things but she is strong and fierce. We are the best of friends!"

Athos turned to her then with a scowl upon his face. "Amorette you are just a child. She is a grown woman. You will both have many differences to set you apart. I fail to see how you can be the closest of companions! You have title and fortune which as your mother's first born child she missed out on. I'm not with you today to meet your darling new sister and rejoice just yet for your finding her. I'm here as your real and true friend to determine just how trustworthy she really is! You know I'm only doing it for your own good."

Amorette reached forward and squeezed his hand, gratitude for her oldest friend warming her heart despite his cold words. "I know all of this and thank you for it most profusely. All I ask of you is not to speak of any of this to my sister. I am not asking you to take great pains with her and become cordially acquainted, but please just be polite to her. If you say all that you have said to me then you may scare her off."

Athos nodded then and smiled at her. With a squeeze of her hand he had reassured her. "No you are right. I will be polite and cordial and will look for the best in your sister. I am not here to assassinate her you know, I just don't think we can readily accept her when we know her so little."

Amorette squeezed his hand again as his blue orbs disarmed her a little. She smiled bashfully and leaned back against the seat with her feet up again. "There's something I must ask of you though," said Athos as he leaned across to the opposite seat to tug on his cloak.

Amorette watched as the cloak slid to the floor of the carriage and an ornate mahogany box was revealed. "Yes, just what is it that you've had hidden under your cloak for all this time?" she simpered.

Athos chuckled at her curious stare and reached for the box. Presenting it to her he lifted the lid to reveal the box of ornate pistols that had been made especially for him. "I'd like you to take care of these for me. I'll be going away for a time, and I can't take these with me. Besides, I know you're too terrified to lift any of your father's guns for fear that they are booby trapped. I'd like you to have something to protect yourself with should you need to, and I know that you trust me. So these pistols are for your safe-keeping. I would trust no-one else with them!"

Amorette took the box from him and held it in front of her, staring at the ornate designs etched into the handles of the pistols. "Athos my family has many sets of pistols and muskets. Most of which are mine now, but if you wish me to keep these safe for you and return them to you when you come back then I will do it." Amorette jumped from her seat and leaned over him then, calling and waving to her sister outside the carriage. "Ann! Ann! We are here Athos, remember what I said. Be nice!"

Athos took the box back into his hands, closed the lid and placed it under his cloak on the seat again. Climbing down from the carriage first, he held out his hand to help Amorette down, her hand barely touching his as she rushed to greet the woman that awaited them. Amorette clutched her sister's hands in hers as they whispered animatedly like two young women sharing the most exciting news. Then the sister's gaze shifted swiftly to Athos. He guessed that Amorette had mentioned him, but something stopped him from stepping forward. It was if an invisible wall had built itself between him and the two women. Ann seemed almost alien to him, with a torturous gaze and a clear, superior complexion. He knew that Ann had spoken but he hadn't heard a word that she had said. Some unseen force seemed to want to block her interference. Then Amorette spoke and he heard her, and felt her touch upon his arm.

"Hello. I'm Anne De Breuil." Suddenly the moment was gone, and Ann stood with her hand outstretched to him. He took the hand in his and kissed it gently, startled by how cold her skin was to the touch.

She smiled a knowing smile at him and walked on, and he was left to bring up the rear with Amorette. "Don't fret little one, I'll be the perfect gentleman," he whispered, not sure whether he was loud enough to be heard.

"You always are," was her whispered reply. "Now go and talk to her, I'm sure our great friendship will isolate her if you don't at least discuss the weather." When Athos turned to her with a grimace upon his face Amorette simply chuckled and pushed him in front of her.

It was cold when they reached the carriage again. Amorette was in a foul temper and wanted nothing more than to clamber into the carriage and wrap Athos' cloak around her for warmth, but he had reached into the carriage for it and given it to her sister instead. Oh what a fool she had been. Amorette knew that Ann was beautiful, but she had not expected Athos to fall for those charms. He was too sensible for things like that. But Amorette had introduced her closest friend to her long lost sister and in one afternoon she had lost him completely. Athos didn't look at Amorette like that, he didn't laugh with Amorette like that. Amorette said a disgruntled good-bye to Ann and climbed into the carriage and the door thudded closed behind her. Athos and Ann stood talking, and Amorette watched as Ann's hand rested on his arm. The strangest thing was, he didn't pull away. Amorette kicked the seat in front of her in frustration. How could she have thought she could compete with Ann?

One arc of the story is concluded, onto the next!