Abigail Carmichael didn't like the word "no". She didn't like to be denied the things she wanted, which was why she spent a lot of time fleeing from the people from whom she acquired the things. Usually, the force of her personality and the long sweet curves of her legs were enough to get her the things she desired. Olivia had never, ever said no to her, in all the time they had known each other. She had never said no, even after Abbie ran to her arms after each subsequent lover year after year for the last decade. In fact, Olivia had always seemed relieved to see her each and every time she returned. Except this time.

Abbie had been back for nearly six months, and Olivia had done her best to avoid her. Not physically, of course, Abbie made it very difficult to physically avoid her – but emotionally. They made love, because Abbie insisted, but Olivia wouldn't stay the night and they barely kissed. They never talked about what happened to Abbie, or whatever was hurting Olivia. Abbie wasn't unfeeling, however, and she had even ambushed Elias to try to get information out of him, but he was resolutely tight lipped.

Their tense détente seemed set to last forever, until one evening Olivia didn't arrive at her door at their silently agreed upon hour. They had fallen into an empty, silent routine over time and while it was not what Abbie had hoped for, it was still something to comfort her. The break in their routine was jarring; enough to shock her out of her malaise and send her looking for Olivia.

She slipped quietly into the yard in front of the Musketeers' barracks, moving by the light of the full moon. Even late at night, Abbie wasn't alone. In the far corner, unidentifiable in the murk, a lone swordsman was slowly and precisely going through the forms. Each exact movement of the swordsman's wrist caused moonlight to flash off the blade. It had been longer then Abbie could remember since she had sat out and watched Olivia work, but her grace and deadly economy of motion was unmistakable even from the distance. She moved into the shadows, inching her way closer until she had a good view and then leaned against the wall of the building, content to admire Olivia for a while.

Olivia either didn't notice Abbie, or didn't care to acknowledge her. For nearly an hour she went through her forms, starting over each time she finished. Abbie could see the sweat rolling down the side of her face, mixing with the cascade of tears that never seemed to stop. At night, she had heard Olivia crying when the other woman thought she was asleep, but this was different. Something proximate had precipitated this pain, not the lingering effect of whatever had come before Abbie arrived.

When it looked like Olivia was set to go all night, Abbie moved out of the darkness, purposefully crossing the distance between them. The Musketeer lowered the sword, sliding it into its sheathe and turned away from Abbie to hide her tear-stained face. "I think we've been putting off this conversation too long." Abbie sighed, and her voice sounded tired. "Something has changed and I can respect that. But, I won't let you come undone while I watch because you're too stubborn to talk to me." When Olivia didn't respond, Abbie reached out and set her hand on her sweat-soaked shoulder. "I've been acting selfish, thinking everything was about me, but I can see that its not. Come home where we can talk in private."

They didn't speak on the entire long walk back to Abbie's cottage. Nobody passed them on the road at that time of night. Abbie opened the door for Olivia, who brushed past her quickly. The Musketeer picked up one of the chairs and moved it so her back would be to the corner before dropping into it. Abbie was unsurprised at her continuing silence; she could not remember a single time that Olivia had ever made small talk, or offered emotional information without being prompted.

"What is going on, Olivia?" Abbie stretched her hands out, palms up as a conciliatory gesture. She took slow steps toward Olivia, who watched her warily with hooded eyes puffy from tears and when she reached her, she knelt.

Olivia leaned forward, and something in her dark eyes signaled her walls dropping, to Abbie's relief. Their eyes locked for a long moment before Olivia kissed her softly on the corner of the mouth. "Why didn't we work out?" she murmured.

"Because you weren't in love with me, and I was in love with the amazing way you touched my body," Abbie answered with a laugh. "But we got on fine, don't we?"

"For a while every year or two," Oliva cupped Abbie's cheek, stroking her jaw with her thumb. The moment passed and she sat back up. So much had passed between the two women that it almost felt like a betrayal for Olivia to mention Alexandra to Abbie. She knew a part of Abbie had always expected her be there, just the same, waiting for her to return. "There's a woman." She shook her head, tears threatening again. "There was a woman. But it isn't even like that anymore."

It shouldn't have been a surprise to Abbie that it was a woman. There had to be a woman eventually; Olivia was bursting with passion that was waiting for an outlet. She rocked back a little, absorbing the blow physically. It hurt still, even though intellectually she had known that Olivia couldn't be frozen in time waiting for her to need her. "Start from the beginning. Who is she? What was it and why isn't it like that anymore?" Perversely, she had to know.

"Alexandra Cabot." Even saying the name felt like a twist in the gut; hurting Olivia even as she imagined she could almost feel the phantom caress of her elegant fingers.

"The daughter of the Duc of Burgundy?" Abbie interrupted, shocked.

"Now you see why things couldn't ever have worked out." Olivia pulled a letter out of her pocket and unfolded it. "Even if I hadn't just gotten this." The letter shook in her hands, but she couldn't even look down at it. She folded it up again hurriedly.

"Was it unrequited? How did you even meet her?" Abbie hadn't overcome the mental daze that the identity of Olivia's love interest had caused.

"I'm not sure what you would call unrequited, but knowing your filthy mind, no it wasn't unrequited like that." Oliva rubbed a hand across her face, trying to hide the effort it took to keep the tears away. She had done an unseemly and rather unattractive amount of crying lately. "And I met her because of your damn letter. She found it and I broke into her room to get it back."

"So, I helped you pick up a lady. I don't know if I am proud of myself or annoyed," Abbie quipped, trying to lighten Olivia's mood a little. "I am also impressed that you had the skill to pull of breaking and entering without getting yourself thrown in the stocks, and you managed to get the girl after snooping around in her skivvies."

"Well, I've always had a way with the ladies."

Telling Abbie about the whole affair didn't lessen the crushing pain that was threatening to collapse Olivia's heart. If anything, it made it worse. Sharing the pain only multiplied it. But she never mentioned the letter that had precipitated that evening's crisis, and Abbie was becoming antsy to know its contents. Finally, she broke in, "And the letter? What is it?"

Olivia breathed out slowly and unfolded the letter again, offering it to the other woman. Abbie took it and began to read. The letter was from Alexandra Cabot, if the elegant name at the bottom hadn't given it away, her precise rounded script would have at least hinted at a well-bred woman's hand. The words were crisp, the sentences short without a hint of sentiment. It was a cold, distant missive that contrasted sharply with the heated anger and sadness it had caused Olivia.

Alexandra Cabot had been engaged to wed Cesar Velez, son of his royal highness the King of Spain. The wedding would be held the following spring at the Royal Palace in Madrid. That was all. There wasn't a single tender word, no mention of their time together or their feelings. Abbie ran the tip of her finger down the edge of the letter, the parchment was a nice quality. Why bother sending the letter at all? A cry for help?

The idea bounced around inside of Abbie's head, gaining momentum as it zoomed. Of course, Alexandra didn't send the letter specifically to hurt Olivia – her departure had ended any expectation of a relationship, she had to have a reason. The only reason could be that she wanted Olivia to come and save her. Before she even realized it, Abbie was vocalizing the radical thought. "I think she wants you to rescue her, Liv. I think she couldn't risk someone seeing her feelings on paper, but she needs help."

Olivia stood up abruptly, nearly knocking Abbie over. She grabbed the letter with a shaking grasp, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. How had Abbie seen it, but she hadn't? Abbie had never even met Alexandra but she was better able to discern her purpose.

"I've wasted too much time. Let's leave tonight."

#

The Duc of Burgundy's main estate was his grand ducal palace on the outskirts of Dijon. It was unfortunately several days ride from the King's estate outside of Paris and the weather was poor. Traffic had churned the roads into knee deep mud that sucked at their horses' hooves and multiplied the miles. Olivia didn't notice, the pain in her chest had grown so large she barely noticed her surroundings, but Abbie was beginning to resent Alexandra and her destructive but absent presence in both of their lives.