Here I am again, once again blown away by the support for my story. You guys rock! I wish I had the time to respond to each of your reviews, but with two jobs, I am doing well just to get a chapter done on a regular basis. Please know that your reveiws mean the world to me and keep me writing! Luckily, I found some time throughout the day today to write the next chapter. Just a warning, there is unwanted touching in this chapter (I am so mean to our young musketeer). So, without further ado...read on:

Chapter 3

d'Artagnan startled awake at the feel of the cool fingers upon his cheek. He instinctively grabbed the hand that touched him and pushed it away while at the same time attempting to push himself away, his escape hindered by the door behind him. He blinked his eyes against the darkness and sucked in a quick breath when a face came into focus.

"Milady," he hissed as he tried to push himself along the alcove wall in an attempt to escape her gaze.

"Shhh, it is alright, d'Artagnan," Milady cooed softly. "It is I…you have nothing to fear from me," she added as she once again reached out to touch his face.

d'Artagnan jerked his head away, hissing as it hit against the wall behind him. "Do not touch me!" he growled, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"What is this? Why do you act afraid? Are we not friends? Lovers?" Milady asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

The young Gascon scooted up the wall, his dark eyes never leaving the face of the woman before him. "We are not lovers! And we are not friends," he spat venomously.

"But we are, d'Artagnan. I paid for your entry into the contest…the contest that led to your commission with the Musketeers. You owe me," Milady crooned, a cool smirk curling her red lips.

"I will pay you back for that. I only owe you that and once I have repaid you, you will leave me alone and never seek me out again!" d'Artagnan hissed. "How did you find me anyway? Were you following me?"

Milady smiled and moved closer to the trapped young man. "I will not leave you alone. You interest me. Besides, I notice that you do not wear your pauldron, nor your blue musketeer's cloak. That is interesting to me. Plus, you are sleeping in the street. Something has happened…something that had you hurry from the apartments you went to earlier and not return to your room at the garrison. So, d'Artagnan, what is it that sent you into the night without your cloak and pauldron…and your friends?"

"So, you were following me. Why?" d'Artagnan asked, ignoring her question.

Milady shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "Like I said, you interest me. I cannot stop thinking about you, if you must know. The touch of your lips on my skin. The feel of you…"

"Stop it. You care nothing about me, only what you think I can do for you," d'Artagnan said, his dark eyes narrowed in distrust.

"What has brought on this sudden change of heart? You were so willing to bed me, to accept my money, and now you do not trust me?" Milady questioned suspiciously. "Something has happened with your musketeer friends…something that has driven you to escape into the cold and sleep in an alleyway, without your treasured pauldron."

"Nothing has happened…"

"d'Artagnan, please…do not treat me as if I am stupid. I can see the pain in your eyes. Your heart is broken and it isn't from losing sweet Constance. This is different," Milady said, her head cocked slightly as she watched the emotions playing over the young Gascon's face.

"You do not know anything about me! Just step aside and let me pass. I will repay you the money you provided…now let me be," d'Artagnan snapped.

"You have no place to go. You can't sleep in the streets…you'll either freeze or be killed. Come with me, you can stay at my apartments," Milady suggested, the woman smiling as coyly as she could.

"I will not come with you. I can take care of myself…now let me pass!"

"I am afraid I cannot let you do that, d'Artagnan," Milady hissed as she moved closer to him, her hand moving to his side.

d'Artagnan felt pressure at his side and looked down. He jerked his head up when he realized that Milady had a pistol held to him. He tried moving away, but she only pressed the muzzle further into his ribs.

"Make one move to escape and you will die. You have no choice but to come with me. The cardinal is very interested in you…almost as much as I am and you will do as we wish or you will not like the outcome," Milady said, her eyes cold now as she dared the young man to make a move.

d'Artagnan glared at the woman and tried once more to move away. "So, you have aligned yourself with the cardinal. The cardinal has no claim to me and nor do you. If you take me it is kidnapping and the musketeers will not let that go without severe punishment," he hissed.

Milady let out a laugh and grabbed the Gascon's arm. "Oh, d'Artagnan, I think you know that I have figured out that you are no longer a musketeer. They will not be coming for you. If they cared about you they would not have let you run out into the night alone and unprotected," she said as she tugged the young man from the alcove, the pistol pressed firmly to his side, and guided him toward the street and her waiting carriage.

d'Artagnan allowed himself to be led to the carriage, the scene from earlier playing through his head. His friends, his brothers had turned away from him, had cast him aside like he meant nothing, and for what? He had been loyal to them, had risked his life for them, had nearly lost it for them and they turned on him because of a woman. Porthos and Aramis had stood by Athos without a second thought. And Athos…his mentor? He had looked at d'Artagnan with nothing short of hatred in his eyes, his words spewing heart rendering cruelty that nearly brought the young man to his knees once again, the strong hand on his arm the only thing keeping him upright. He reached the carriage and the open door and suddenly he realized the danger he was in. He tried to pull away, the young man turning his face toward Milady, only to stumble back as she brought the pistol up hard against his temple. She looked over his shoulder as he fought to stay on his feet and nodded before slamming the gun against his head once more. As darkness overcame him, d'Artagnan felt strong arms wrap around him and shove him up and onto the floor of the carriage. He watched with half open eyes as Milady climbed in and sat above him, her eyes cold as she smiled down at him. The door to the carriage slammed shut and a moment later it lurched forward. d'Artagnan's last conscious thought was of his friends. Would they notice that he was gone? Would they realize what had happened to him? Would they care? A single tear slipped down his cheek as the darkness won and he was swept away where the heartbreak could not reach him.

M

Athos was breathing heavily when he reached his apartments in the wee hours of the morning. Dawn was still a few hours off so the air still held the deep chill of night making it so the musketeer could see each puff of breath as it was exhaled. He turned to his right when he heard footsteps, his heart leaping in hope only for him to frown in disappointment when he saw Aramis approaching alone. The younger man was out of breath as well and his eyes portrayed the same disappointment.

"I see you had as much luck as I did," Athos murmured as he met his friend's eyes.

Aramis sadly nodded his head and leaned against the wall beside Athos. "I looked everywhere, Athos. It is like he disappeared into thin air," the medic responded softly.

"Maybe Porthos had better luck," Athos said, though in his heart he felt that his youngest brother may be lost to them.

"Maybe. Let us go up to your rooms and await his return and hope that he has brought our young friend back to us," Aramis suggested as he pushed away from the wall.

Athos nodded and followed Aramis up the stairs and to his rooms. He stoked the fire in the fireplace then dropped heavily into the chair at the table. He eyed the half full bottle of wine, but decided that he needed to have his wits about him if Porthos had indeed found d'Artagnan. Aramis smiled slightly and took the chair opposite Athos. "We will find him, Athos," he said, praying to God that he was right.

It was a half hour later when the two musketeers heard heavy footfalls on the stairs and they both rose in unison and turned to the door expectantly. Their hearts dropped when a very dejected Porthos shuffled through the door, slamming it angrily behind him.

"The lad has well and truly disappeared," Porthos muttered as he moved toward his two friends.

"Damn it!" Athos growled as he dragged his hand through his messed up hair.

"Where could he have gone?" Aramis asked his friends. "Did either of you check his room at the garrison?"

"I did, but he was not there. All of his things are still there," Athos answered.

Porthos cleared his throat and reached his hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his head. "You don't think he would go to her, do you?" he asked.

Athos looked over at his friend and shrugged. "I do not think he would, but I cannot be sure. I hope not because if he tells her that he knows who she is…well, I do not even want to think about what she may do. She is a ruthless woman and I could see her slitting his throat without a second thought," he said.

There was silence for several minutes as the implications of what Athos had said sunk in. They had done this, they had put d'Artagnan in this position. Athos, with his accusations…Porthos and Aramis with their silence. Fear for d'Artagnan and guilt at how they had treated him kept each man lost in his own thoughts until finally Aramis broke the silence.

"I do not think it would do any good to go back out searching right now. We all need food and sleep if we are going to continue the search, but first we need to know everything about the woman who poses such a danger to our young Gascon friend," he said, his dark eyes meeting Athos' gaze.

Athos seemed ready to balk, but finally nodded his head and dropped back down on his chair. And so began the story of Milady de Winter.

M

Awareness came back slowly and painfully for d'Artagnan. The first thing he became aware of was the steady pounding in his head. He peeled open his eyes despite the pain and was immediately overcome with dizziness. His stomach roiled and he had to swallow deeply to keep from expelling what little he had eaten the day before. He closed his eyes and waiting for the dizziness to lessen before he slowly opened them again. The room he was in was dimlit, with just a few candles burning near him so it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. There wasn't much to see…a small table against the wall held an ornate wine bottle with a few small glasses beside it. A single lit candle sat just beside the glasses. A mirror hung over the table on the wall and it was when d'Artagnan caught his reflection that he realized he was tied to a chair, his arms pulled behind and fastened to the seat back while each ankle, he discovered, was tied to a chair leg. He pulled at the bindings that secured his wrists to the back of chair, but cried out when the motion sent pain spearing through his head, his vision wavering at the onslaught of agony.

The young Gascon took several deep breaths to calm the pain and when the worst of it had once again passed, he looked up at the mirror again. Dread filled him when he saw that he had been stripped down to just his braies and shirt. His doublet and pants, as well as his boots were gone leaving him feeling vulnerable and embarrassed. He turned his head to try to make out anything else in the room, but the movement made his vision waver and he realized that he must be suffering from at the very least a slight concussion. He returned his gaze to mirror and could see that blood trailed down the left side of his face from his temple and down his neck where it had then soaked into the collar of his shirt. Then a concussion for sure the young man thought as he closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

d'Artagnan felt the darkness encroaching again and would have let it take him if not for the sound of a door opening somewhere out of his line of vision. He jerked his head up and was assaulted by the worst pain he'd felt so far since awakening. He was so overwhelmed by the pain that he didn't notice the person who came to stand above him. So intent on keeping conscious, the young man didn't hear the voice that spoke. He did, however feel the slap that stung his cheek and sent his head reeling once more. It was all he could do to keep from vomiting. Finally, after several minutes, the pain receded and nausea eased. He felt fingers cup his chin and raise his head and he would have shook them off if he didn't think the movement would send him on another pain filled ride. He opened his eyes and stared up into the cold, lovely face of Milady de Winter, his heart immediately beginning to pound in his chest at the hungry look she gave him.

"Well, you are finally awake. I was beginning to think I would have to start the party without you," Milady whispered as she leaned down, her lips ghosting over d'Artagnan's cheek seductively.

"D-Do not t-touch me," d'Artagnan said, his voice weak, much to his chagrin.

The woman chuckled, but straightened then pulled her hand away. She stood above the Gascon, studying his face intently. Finally, she spoke. "You know who I am and that is most unwelcome news."

d'Artagnan swallowed against the sudden fear and glared up at the woman. "What are you going to do to me?" he asked shakily.

Milady cocked her head and pursed her lips. "Well, I should kill you, but…"

"But?"

"But, the cardinal would be most displeased with me if I did that. So, basically, my hands are tied," Milady answered. A devilish smile twisted her lips as she gazed down at the helpless boy. "Of course, mine are only tied figuratively," she said as she moved forward a step then maneuvered herself onto d'Artagnan's lap.

The Gascon struggled to push the woman off, but his condition left him weak and she was much stronger than her appearance let on. She reached up and took a handful of hair at the back of the young man's head and pulled until his neck was stretched out in front of her. Leaning forward, she began to nuzzle and kiss his neck and collarbone, her tongue gliding softly over the heated skin, her fingers unconsciously pulling harder on his hair as her mouth sucked at the delicate skin. d'Artagnan groaned as pain raced through him at the abuse she was dealing. Finally, Milady let loose of his hair, her hand pushing his face forward before she attacked his mouth, her tongue forcing its way into his even as he fought to expel it. She worked her free hand into the front of his shirt, the laces already have been loosened, and caressed his chest, her fingers playing over his skin in a delicate dance of desire. d'Artagnan moaned despite himself as he felt her pull her hand out of his shirt and move it down further until it disappeared into his braies. He felt disgust when his body reacted to her touch and prayed for the attack to stop. His prayers were finally answered when the sound of the door opening and closing forced the woman to stop and pull herself from his lap. She straightened her skirt as she looked past the young man with disappointment.

"Well, Milady, this is most inappropriate, even for you," a voice said from behind the young man.

"Most people would knock before they entered a woman's parlor, Cardinal Richelieu," Milady answered with barely concealed anger.

"Most women would not attempt rape upon a helpless man when she knew she would be having guests," the cardinal snapped as he came around the bound young man and stared down at him. "It seems as though you have done my young friend some damage," he added as he glanced up at Milady with distaste.

"It was necessary…he would not come otherwise," Milady answered, her words clipped as she moved to allow the cardinal access to her prisoner.

Cardinal Richelieu waved the woman off and smiled down at the young man. "d'Artagnan, of the King's musketeers. I hear you have found yourself in some unfortunate circumstances," he said smugly, his eyes sparkling with barely restrained glee.

"You hear wrong," d'Artagnan said in reply, his gaze firmly on the cardinal's face.

"I hear that the Inseparables have cut you loose and that you are now free of their hold on you," the cardinal continued as if d'Artagnan had not spoken.

"Again, you are wrong."

"Am I? Would you have been without your pauldron and that hideous blue cloak if you were still a musketeer? I think not."

d'Artagnan kept silent as he watched the man pace before him, his hand twirling the beard on his chin. "I was quite impressed with you at the contest, even though you were responsible for my humiliation. I am willing to let all of that go and give you a place within my red guard. You will be welcomed there, not put out on the streets to fend for yourself."

d'Artagnan shook his head, not caring that the movement brought the dizziness back. "I would rather die than to betray my brothers by joining the red guard," he spat.

"Is it not your brothers who betrayed you?"

"They did not betray me! Milady knows not what she is talking about!"

"Milady knows much more than you give her credit for. Now, you will join the red guard or you will suffer the consequences of not joining. You really have no choice in the matter."

d'Artagnan looked up at the man and sneered. "Like I said, I would rather die," he hissed.

A backhand across his face made d'Artagnan cry out in alarm, his cheek split wide open by the cardinal's ring. Black dots danced in front of his eyes as his world tilted, the darkness coming once more to claim him, the young man fighting against it with all the strength he could muster. His eyes at half mast, he watched the cardinal turn toward Milady, a deep scowl on his face.

"You make him change his mind by any means necessary. If he still refuses, I will take him and let my best interrogator have a turn. You will not disappoint me." With one last look of disgust at the fading Gascon, the cardinal rushed out of the room, leaving d'Artagnan at Milady's mercy. The last thing d'Artagnan felt before the darkness took him again was Milady returning to her place on his lap. He slipped away as she once again attacked his throat with the ferocity of a hungry tiger.

Oh man...things don't look good for d'Artagnan. I'll try to get another chapter done this week, but no promises. Please let me know how I'm doing :)

Cindy