Chapter X..in which painkillers reveal a somewhat different side to Athos, and Anne makes a troubling discovery.
CHAPTER X
Several hours later, Athos stirred, and looked up to see Charlotte sitting by the bedside.
"Who are you?" he asked fuzzily.
"Don't tell me you don't remember my name," she said lightly.
A tired sigh came from the pillows. "I believe I may have been a bit distracted over the past several hours." He shifted slightly, and Charlotte reproved him as she rose to inspect his shoulder. "Don't wiggle like that, or I shall have to restrain you."
His brain still dull, he heard himself ask, "Is that something you do often to men you have at your mercy?"
If Michel had inquired the same of Charlotte, she would have found it offensive. Athos still looked dazed, and the words had come out of his mouth innocent of the double entendre.
Perhaps it was the sleep deprivation, but Charlotte, who had an impish sense of humour, found herself giving him a seductive look as she murmured huskily, "Monsieur, I am not that kind of girl."
His chest rumbled under her hand in silent laughter, and she saw a slight curve of his mouth that was paired with a spreading pinkish tinge to his face. I made him blush—that's a good sign. His thinking is clear enough to cause him to dimly sense embarrassment, and enough blood is circulating to turn his face a colour other than deadly pale.
He coughed, grimacing a bit, and gratefully accepted her aid in drinking some small sips of water. She slid her hand behind him and eased him forward a bit, the sleek muscles of his back sliding under her arm.
She is an attractive woman-that auburn hair shines like copper mixed with a hint of gold... and her sense of humour is keen. I wonder what it would be like to have those soft, gentle hands touch me in a way that was other than professional, thought Athos idly as her hand glided across his back, not realizing he was staring at Charlotte in a way that was making her blush in return.
As she settled him back against the pillows, he cleared his throat, and when he next spoke, his voice seemed to be returning to normal. In response, the colour on Charlotte's face deepened noticeably. God, what a voice. It was low, rich, and warm-in short, incredibly mesmerizing.
"Nevertheless," he replied in a wry tone, his speech slurring just a bit, "the fact remains that we have apparently spent the night together in a room with very little furnishings other than this huge bed. Perhaps we should be on a first name basis, if for no other reason than to go along with the script for the indecent scene that will likely be assumed to have occurred here."
An amused smile flitted across Charlotte's face. He is flirting with me, and he is not even aware of it. I doubt he would be saying any of this if his thinking were clear. The opium has definitely affected his brain.
"Charlotte Gaillard. Pleased to meet you." She took his right hand and squeezed it lightly.
"Athos, of the King's Musketeers. I am in your debt, Mademoiselle Charlotte." He brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it softly. "Greatly in your debt."
At that moment, the door flew open, and a pompous-looking, rather portly man stood in the doorway, holding a black medical bag, the Cardinal hovering behind him. "What is the meaning of this?" the man thundered. "Who is this woman, and why is she in my patient's room?"
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Aramis had finally pulled away from Anne, forcing himself to ignore the rising wave of desire that threatened to be his downfall once again. "This cannot happen," he said, his voice trembling.
"Yes, it can," Anne insisted, her voice thin and desperate. "We will be careful—so careful that no one will have any idea."
"If we continue along this path, we are doomed—and our son is doomed. And I will not allow that to happen. Anne, think of the baby. Would you not give your life for him?"
"Of course! You know I would!" she blurted out.
"So would I. And that is what we must do…our lives will be given to him, rather than to each other. We must put our own feelings aside, my love, or he will certainly pay the price."
Anne averted her eyes, pure misery flooding into her body. She finally nodded reluctantly, and took in a deep, agonizing breath. "I swear this is the hardest thing I will ever do in my life. But know this always, Aramis-every time I look at our son, I think of you with love." With one last quick kiss on his cheek, she put her hand over her mouth to stifle the choking sob rising in her throat and vanished, her steps lightly ascending the staircase.
Emerging into her sitting room, she glanced up to see Catherine and Marie, her two ladies-in-waiting, exchanging concerned looks at the distress on her face. "Your Majesty, you have had a very emotional day. Perhaps you should go to sleep,' murmured Catherine.
"Yes, I—believe I will," she said, sniffling a bit as she tried to collect herself. "The visit to the chapel has overwhelmed me. I am so grateful for God's grace in restoring my son to me. Good night, and Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," they said in unison, glad to hear their gentle queen agreeing to try to rest.
Entering her bedchamber, Anne closed the door softly, and went to the bed, sitting down and reaching for her prayer book. She was indeed grateful for the grace of God, but since she had not gotten around to giving any actual thanks in the chapel, she intended to do so now. As she opened the well-thumbed book, a note fell into her lap. As she opened it and read the words, written in an unfamiliar hand, her blood ran cold. You really should be more careful. After all, I know the truth.
Next up-Athos comes to Charlotte's defense, and Aramis is able to put his sorrow to the side for a moment when he becomes intrigued by Athos' behaviour.