Finally she stepped out of the bath and put on the first thing to hand, a simple cream coloured dress. Wrapped a pale green scarf around her neck to hide the marks and slipped her feet into her silver shoes. She needed some air. Running lightly past the small crowd gathered in the drawing room before anyone could see her, she exited into the garden and wandered around, taking pleasure in the feeling of getting away from it all, forgetting her problems for a while. She stopped by the rose garden again and walked through. Taking a red rose in her hand, she raised it to her face and enjoyed the brush of velvet across her bruised cheek. Oh to be a flower. No cares or worries in the world, for how could they have any? Just to feel the sun and the rain on their faces.

She raised her own fair face to meet the breeze. It was like feeling a touch from heaven. She didn't want to go back to the stifling, stuffy house where people would stare and gossip. How she suddenly felt sick for wanting to go back to England. She had been absent from here for so long she couldn't feel like she fitted in anymore.

Everything had changed since she had been young. She hadn't been young for long. Still, too young for her previous life with Athos. How could things have turned so bitter so soon? Her fault, her own wretched fault for thinking she could keep her past from him. But what choice did she have?

'I thought I might find you here.'

His voice shocked her out of her reverie; he was the last person she wanted to see. She loathingly looked over her shoulder at Richelieu.

'What do you want?'

'There's no need to be hostile.' He smiled thinly. She stood up and turned around to meet his eyes, he obviously felt he was entitled to talk to the woman he had so brazenly threatened in front of a crowd.

'Leave me alone.' He had scared her badly, he could tell that. But what choice had he at the time? She was a loose cannon, able to break away at a moment's notice and he had to do all he could to reel her back in.

'When I tell you to do something, I expect you to follow it. I didn't employ you to take matters into your own hands' he told her sternly.

'Who are you, my father?' She asked scathingly. He was taken aback by this sudden attitude; she had always acted dignified in the face of his advances. Now she was deriding his authority. The anger rose up in him even as he made an effort to control himself.

'Your next step is to get those papers off of Buckingham's cousin, Earl of Shropshire. You know the English language and the English way of life, you can engage him easily. Do whatever it takes to get them. The diamonds aren't enough.'

'Nothing is enough for you' she replied bitterly. 'You won't stop until you've crushed everybody under your heel.' He took a step towards her. She didn't back down. He reached for the scarf in one swift movement and tightened it; she let out a strangled gasp. He released it, and took advantage of her momentary helplessness to take hold of her and bringing her to him, enjoying feeling her fright beating against his chest. She struggled to turn the other way, enough for him to grab the scarf again as a warning. She took the hint. 'Don't think of crossing me again Milady. I'll make sure that lovely young niece of yours gets your reward if you fail me again.' He took his chance to run his free hand over her hip. He was too close to her to resist, that silky hair was unravelling from their pins and tickling his neck, the scent she used he didn't know but it made the lust he felt for her deepen every time she was near. She looked like a wood nymph this morning, luminous and transparent in the mid morning light.

'Let me go' came the desperate whisper. He couldn't let her go just yet; he wanted to keep her forever enslaved in his unsavoury service. She was steeped deep in sin but still she looked like an angel, pulling him down to the depths of hell where he knew he would go eventually, knowing that his lust for her would send him straight there. He blamed her for existing to torture him with sin that shouldn't have been his. His fingers traced up the curve of her breasts and she tensed, pushing his hand away, angering him more. Ripping the scarf off, he examined the marks he had made the night before on her delicate throat. 'The trouble with you Milady, is that you are impossible to resist' he whispered in her ear. His fingers were just about to re-imprint them when she wrenched his hand away with a shriek and fled.

She heard him roar after her but ran all the faster through the melting dew, anything to get away from him. She couldn't stand a second more of him and his lecherous touch. Rounding the corner, she raced ahead, looking over her shoulder to check she was safe. She ran into him before she could see him with a thud, his shout of surprise loud in her ear. Together they collapsed into the ground and she found herself looking at the man she was trying to forget.

'I got the impression you were resting upstairs' said Athos. He didn't seem too surprised to find that she wasn't. She stared at him for a moment, trying to find an excuse as to why she wasn't.

'I needed some air.'

There wasn't much else to say.

He got to his feet and held out a hand to her. She hesitated, looked up at him and took it eventually, hauling her up like an anchor. She glanced over her shoulder to see if Richelieu was following but there seemed no sign of him. They walked across the lawn going up to the french windows in silence. She gave a start when he stopped, suddenly looking down. They both realised that they were still holding each other's hand.

She tore her hand away like she had been burned and he gave her a look she couldn't quite understand. Athos' eyes coloured amber in the sunlight and held her gaze for longer than it was comfortable. She had to look away.

'Sabine.' She couldn't look at him.

'I'm not Sabine anymore.'

'I've realised. Your niece thinks otherwise perhaps.'

'Habits are hard to change. She was very young when I went away.'

'Does she know?'

She turned to look at him now, incredulous. 'Do you think I'd risk everything by telling her?'

He was surprised. He didn't know what she meant by risking everything. But he wanted to know something. 'What about me? Would you risk everything for me?'

She slowly closed her eyes in resignation. He understood. 'You wouldn't.'

'I have to think of Sissi' she softly replied. 'She means everything to me.'

'She's your sister's child. You two weren't exactly close.'

'She's all I have left.'

'Eugenie treated you like a servant and what do you get out of it? Being her daughter's guardian. What a great sister she was.'

Milady flinched. Every word he said was true but she couldn't bring herself to tell him the actual truth. Her sister was gone but the deep rooted threat was difficult to ignore.

'I'm not saying Sissi is like her mother. She's nothing like her. Actually' he felt nervous about saying so but he had to now. 'Actually, she reminds me exactly of you.'

She looked at him, trying to work out if he was joking. He appeared not.

'You don't think I remember how you were before. You think I forgot you over the years?' she leaned against the window frame and closed her eyes again. She wanted to block his voice out but he wouldn't let her. 'Did you erase your memory of us, while you were a Baroness in England? Were you glad you left to start a new life?'

She tried to speak but nothing she could think of to say would make sense. She felt the whisper of his breath and realised how close they were to rekindling the spark. She said the only thing that reverberated in her head.

'I never forgot you.'