Chapter Twenty One - Harsh Climate
Aramis
It was warm in the secluded spot they had found. The sun trapped by the Palace walls, reflected back to heat the grass.
Aramis lay on his back on the grass looking up at her. He had admonished her initially for risking ruining her dress by sitting and then lying next to him. Grass stains would not be becoming on the clothing of the Queen of France. She had playfully told him off as she pushed him fully onto his back and quietened his protests with a kiss.
He had hesitated a few seconds before kissing her back. She had initiated the liaison, he could not go against his Queen's wishes.
Aramis slowly trailed a hand up her arm before stroking his fingers across her perfect cheek. She smiled as she continued to kiss him.
The stolen moment alone would not last. She would go back to the King and her restricted life at the court. He would go back to the garrison and the blood and sweat of soldiering.
But this moment, this moment was bliss.
She pushed away from him, her hand resting gently on his chest, keeping him still. He was her prisoner. He had no issues with being her prisoner.
The warmth of the grass, the reflected sunlight, the hand on his chest. The warmth of her lips on his. He closed his eyes and smiled.
'Why's 'e smilin?'
'Dunno.'
Aramis slowly opened his eyes. He kept the smile on his face as he stared at the two men in front of him.
The soft grass, the solitude of the secret spot, the stolen moment with her all vanished. But the memory lingered. And Aramis knew he could go back there at any moment.
As long as the men kept him tied to the tree under the blazing hot sun, trying, and failing to get him to talk he had his memory of the stolen moment.
Aramis did not know how long he had been there. Long enough to have stopped sweating. The leather doublet, which worked well to keep him warm in the winter had done him no favours since he had been dragged from his horse and beaten by the men.
They had tied him to an exposed tree under the high, hot sun and left him there. They had moved to sit in the shade a few yards away, slowing drinking water from his waterskin.
He knew he would not talk. The men clearly did not. He watched them for a few seconds before closing his eyes again. He wanted to relive that stolen moment.
If he did not talk the men would probably move onto more, involved, tactics to make him talk. He doubted he would get the chance to relieve the stolen moment many more times. He wanted to make the most of the time he had before the men decided to make him talk using other methods.
The End.