Author's Note: Lauren's rhapsody in this chapter is actually a song by the Canadian group Doba Caracol, originally in French. I edited it a bit to make it more poem-like. Enjoy!

Rhapsody

Lauren laughed uncontrollably as Gil finished a story about his brothers stealing his clothes while he was swimming. "…And then as I'm standing in the water looking for something to cover up with, a group of local noble ladies walks by. Luckily, one of them knew my oldest brother and lent me a parasol while the rest giggled from a distance. It was probably the most humiliating experience of my life, trying to run home with only a sunshade for cover," he finished, his face split by a grin and his eyes shining with amusement as he chuckled a little at the memory.

Lauren snorted with laughter, slowly bringing her breathing back down to normal. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she spoke, "Wow. That would have been a sight to see." Meeting his happy gaze, she had a quick thought, Could I actually be having fun? Gil was a lot more interesting than she had ever thought… Maybe.

There was no time to expand on that theory, however, when Ramon arrived at the table. "And now, senorita, let's see what lines you can spin." The Spaniard picked up her hand from the table. "Please?"

Lauren shook her head. "Oh no, not me. I couldn't rhapsodize my way out of a paper bag." She tried to shake off his grip, but Gil had rounded the table to take her other arm. Together, the two men pulled her from her chair into the waiting audience. "Really, I can't…" But the girl's protests were ignored as they lifted her onto the center table, the make-shift stage.

"But I don't know—" Lauren began, trying to speak over the cheering crowd. She spun around, seeing Ramon's toothy grin, Jacqueline and d'Artagnan looking over from their table, and catching an encouraging nod and wink from Gil. Taking a deep breath, she began uneasily, but picking up on the spirit of the crowd, she could speak more confidently.

"J'ai le feu du volcan (I have the fire of a volcano)
La chaleur du desert (The heat of the desert)
La saveur de la Terre (The flavor of the Earth)
La lueur d'une lune Claire (The light of the clear moon)

J'ai la fraicheur d'une riviere (I have the coolness of the river)
La colere du typhon (The anger of the typhoon)
J'ai l'amour d'une mere (I have the love of a mother)
Les torments des Quatre-Vents (The torment of the Four Winds)

Comme ils tombent, comme ils tombent (As they fall, as they fall)
Les flocons de l'hiver (The snowflakes of winter)
Ils s'entassent dans me tete (They pile up in my head)
Et mes perles d'amour (And my pearls of love)
Dans un ecrin de poussiere (In a jewelry box of dust)

Etrange comme je t'aime (Strange how I love you)

J'ai la lumiere du Soleil (I have the light of the sun)
Le frisson de la fougere (The shudder of the fern)
La rudesse de l'hiver (The harshness of winter)
La douceur du miel (The sweetness of honey)

Comme le fleuve (Like the river)
Je m'abreuve a l'ocean de ta pensee (I draw from the ocean of your thoughts)
Je boirai toute l'eau de la mer (I will drink all the water of the sea)
Pour que tu vienes m'aimer (If you will come to love me)

Etrange comme je t'aime (Strange how I love you)…"

And the crowd burst into cheers. Lauren smiled nervously at the applause and made a few shallow bows to her fans. But she was all too glad when Ramon and Gil came forward to help her down. Her hands were shaking with leftover nerves, and she doubted that her knees would have held her upright without Gil's supporting hand on her back as they headed out of the crowd. People stepped aside for Lauren, reaching out to touch her arm or shoulder like she was a rock star or something.

As though reading her mind, Gil led her past their empty table and out the door of the café into the cool autumn night. The chill wind felt good on Lauren's flushed cheeks—her whole body seemed afire with excitement and nerves all mixed up with the embarrassment of standing before a crowd and having them cheer her name. I could never get used to that! she told herself.

A shiver went though her but not because of the sudden breeze. Gil had moved his hand from her back to her arm and slid his fingers into her hand, lifting it for those strangely pleasing kisses on the knuckles. "That was amazing," he whispered, his lips tickling the skin on the back of her hand.

Not wanting to break the spell that seemed to have fallen on the quiet street, she brushed off the praise softly, "I was nothing really, not compared to Ramon or anyone else. I'm just a novelty right now which is all that interests them."

"But Ramon doesn't have your eyes." He told her, his free hand lifting to tuck loose strands of hair behind her ear.

Lauren swallowed. Stop it! she told herself. This is what happens in movies. He is just saying that. Don't fall for such a cliché. This is not real! The last one rang true somewhere in her head. This whole thing was a dream, maybe even a nightmare. But something else checked that thought as Gil leaned in for a kiss.

If it's a dream, you may as well enjoy it.

Discoveries

The next day started off normally enough. Lauren woke up to the sound of practicing swordsmen under her window. Stretching out the kinks of deep sleep, she yawned; last night had been much later than she had grown accustomed to, and she knew that a nap might be in order for the afternoon. Tugging on a jacket and sliding on the low paddock boots she had brought into this time, Lauren stepped out of her room to find something for breakfast. Right away her eyes fell on Gil, sitting on a bench at Siroc's big worktable. She sucked in a breath as he looked up to see her there. He stood with a smile.

"Good morning, cherie. Would you like to go with me to the café for breakfast?" His eyes looked at her hopefully, crossing the ten feet of distance between them to make Lauren feel as though he was standing right before her.

Shifting uncomfortably, she turned him down. "Normally I'd say yes, but last night was so late. My head feels stuffed with cotton…" Trailing off, Lauren saw Siroc glance at them from the corner of his eye, and she wanted to back up and hide in her room. "I'll just beg a spare croissant off of someone here. Thanks though."

The glint of hurt in his eyes made her regret last night's kiss. It obviously meant more to him than she assumed. But Lauren had never had a 'boyfriend' per se; just a few odd dates with guys that were friends already, and those never really went anywhere. At home she prided herself on being a student first, everything else later. That was the stuff that got you into Georgetown, her dream school. But you cannot learn about relationships from a book, and Lauren was surely lacking in this department. How could she discourage Gil or tell him that she felt it was casual thing instead of a wait-outside-my-door-until-I-wake-up kind of thing? And it doesn't seem exactly healthy to have a dream boyfriend—as in a boyfriend in a dream…

As all this was going through her head, Gil had moved forward to invade her personal space bubble. "I have patrol in an hour," he told her in a low voice like he was divulging a secret for her ears only. "Would you like to go somewhere?"

Lauren was very uncertain as to the connotations of 'somewhere' in this century and felt inclined to decline. "I think I'll just rest. Maybe later." She strode past him, shoulder brushing his. Gil turned to glance at Siroc, the one musketeer who seemed to keep the boy in check, at least around Lauren.

"Later then," he agreed, storming out of the room. A sigh of relief escaped the girl's lips before she could catch herself. Dropping onto the bench and crossing arms on the table before her, she put her head down.

The inventor took a rare break from his mold growing experiment to regard her carefully. "I don't like to jump to conclusions, but I can see that something is going on between you two." Lauren grunted. Siroc apparently took that as a sign to continue his monologue. "After days of pestering, you finally agree to go out with him. With my blessing, you find yourself having a surprisingly interesting night. Good conversation, good drinks, good rhapsody…" He had begun to pace the room, hands folded behind his back, like a detective piecing together all the clues to a mystery. Lauren stifled a giggle when she peeked up to see him. "And you end the night alone with him, sharing a good-night kiss before he walks you home."

Lauren's head shot up. "What? How did you—" she sputtered. The man's innocent grin was grating on her last nerve. Her face went pale and then red with embarrassment; Siroc had become like a big brother to her, and big brothers should not know the details of your love life.

"A little birdie…" he began but the rest was masked by Lauren's loud frustrated growl. The inventor's eyebrows rose, and he changed his answer to the truth. "Gil told d'Artagnan who told me, okay?"

"Of course, that son of a—" she muttered, wishing that Gil had developed the gentlemanly trait of 'don't kiss and tell' and quickly realizing that d'Artagnan would have ferreted the confession out of the boy sooner or later anyway.

Siroc leaned over the table to speak frankly. "I know this is uncomfortable for you, but it isn't easy for me either. Just—" he cleared his throat roughly. "Watch yourself. If he tries anything—just find me, alright?"

Lauren's lips twitched as she gave a small smile. "Aww, you care about me don't you Papa Siroc? And after all this time I thought I just annoyed you."

He shrugged, "Now I'm not saying that you don't annoy me…" His own grin betrayed the mock seriousness, but he meant what he said next. "But your mind is far too good to waste. I don't want anything to happen to you, Tisoeur."

Tisoeur was petit soeur, or little sister. "You mean if anything happened to me, the Captain would give you a slap on the wrist—especially since I'm consorting with his nephew," she elaborated sweetly.

He straightened, returning to his work. "Actually as far as slapping goes, I was more worried about Jacques."

"Worried about Jacques what?" came the female musketeer's voice from the doorway. Lauren turned to see Jacqueline enter with d'Artagnan in tow. Siroc wisely remained silent.

D'Artagnan apparently did not get the hint as he dropped down on the bench next to Lauren and elbowed her roughly. "Have a good night?" he asked rather suggestively.

"It was pretty typical actually," she replied in a snobbish tone, for once meeting those puppy dog eyes of his without the faintest hint of a crush. "How about you and 'Jacques?'"

"What's going on here?" asked a bewildered Jacqueline, looking between the three to try and figure what they were hiding from her.

The inventor rejoined the torment. "Why don't we ask… Lauren?" he chimed in with an amused look.

"Okay, hold on," Lauren stood to address the gathered. "For everyone's listening pleasure, yes, me and Gil—er, Gil and I kissed last night after my rhapsody. Happy now? You people disgust me!" And she retreated into her room with the hint of a door slam.

Jacqueline shot d'Artagnan a dirty look. The legend's son retaliated verbally. "Was it something I said?"