It was obvious that she was flirting with him, and since he'd had interest in her already, Kitty from communications that is, Illya decided what the heck. He shrugged absentmindedly, reached out and pulled her to him in a deep, passionate kiss.
One thing led to another, and he was naked, making love to her; remembering to pull the familiar foil packet from his trousers, and putting on a condom.
When they were spent, he closed his eyes holding the girl in his arms. He must have dozed off, for only a second but when he opened his eyes he received another shock.
"Chyort vozmi'_son of a bit..!" He scrambled, as he cursed. "Angelique?"
"Of course it's me darling. Really there's no need to be uncouth and insulting. I have to admit for such a nasty, cold hearted Russian you weren't bad in the hay," she purred, then giggled. "But admittedly Napoleon is better, he knows what I like."
Angelique giggling? Did he just have sex with her and not Kitty? Illya suddenly felt befouled.
He grabbed his clothes, quickly stepping into his britches, disgusted with himself. "Not possible," he muttered, "I was with Kitty." He slipped on one boot then the other and left the barn in haste.
He could hear Angelique laughing behind him as he walked out.
"D'Artagnan, a little wenching of your own I see. So how was the fair Kitty?" Porthos smiled, watching the girl run out, holding her clothes around her while picking straw out of her hair.
Illya stiffened his lower lip, refusing to answer.
The silence was broken as Aramis, mounted on her horse, rode up to greet them. "So where are we off to mes amis?"
"To Calais, Buckingham will await us there to turn over the jewels."Porthos called.
"C'est impossible. To Calais and back to Paris within five days." Aramis burst out.
"Then we better get going." Porthos laughed."D'Artagnan, get the horses."
"Get them yourself Porthos, do not order me around like a stable boy." Illya barked back at him as he finished dressing, adjusting his baldric and rapier, and still annoyed at his supposed encounter with Angelique.
"I decide not to kill you, feed you out of the goodness of my heart, put you in a position to bed a beautiful woman and this is the thanks I get? Porthos put his hand to the pommel of his sword, ready to draw it.
"Alright, alright!" Illya waved his hand at him, "Why not, it is just like doing your paperwork for you is it not?"
"That's not fair, I don't force you to help me with my reports, I always ask."
Illya jerked his head, hearing those words. "Napoleon is that you?"
"A mad man" Porthos groaned. I have aligned myself with a lunatic."
Kuryakin disappeared for a few minutes, retrieving their horses and together with the Musketeers headed out towards the coast.
They rode the beasts of burden hard, stopping only to change their mounts to fresh ones in order to make better time. They arrived in Calais just before dusk, making their way to a ship that was anchored in the port.
They had removed their Musketeer attire, not wanting to stand out in the crowds of people, or be noticed boarding a British ship. The docks were filled with the comings and goings of wagons and horses loaded with goods and it was easy for them to blend in.
"That one,"Porthos pointed out. "The Sovereign of the Seas."
They tied their horses, boarding the large masted ship. Making their way up the gang plank, they stepped onto the deck, but were challenged by the first mate.
"Who goes there?"
"I am Porthos and I have an appointment with Monsieur Villeirs. Permission to come aboard."
"Yes, he is expecting you. Come with me gentlemen." The man had an obvious British accent. He lead them to the Captain's stateroom, announcing them to the man who awaited their arrival. Few knew him by his true name, he was simply known to all as the Duke of Buckingham, a man of great influence and paramour to the Queen of France.
"Hello mates," came a very familiar greeting. A richly attired man sat at a large oak table holding a large glass goblet of beer, and was eating a bowl of chicken noodle soup. There was a bowl of green jello on the table, but that appeared to be untouched.
"Mark!" Illya greeted him.
"Mark what guv? What do you want me to make note of?"
Illya looked confused for a second. "You, your name is Mark, Mark Slate."
"I beg to differ sir but the name's George Villiers, 1st Duke of Buckingham."
"Pardon my companions ignorance." Porthos interrupted, pointing to his finger to his temple to indicate that Illya was touched in the head. "We are here to retrieve the jewels belonging to the Queen, and will return them to her poste haste prevent a scandal. We must make haste as we have little time to get them to Paris."
"Ah yes the magnificent creature herself, Rosy Shlagenheimer." Mark smiled, "excellent equestrian that woman but I had a devil of a time with that awful accent of her. I could have used the help of a Henry Higgins."
"Wait, the Queen's name is Anne, Anne of Austria, daughter of Philip III of Spain." Illya corrected him.
"Blimey mate, you couldn't be more wrong." He looked to Porthos, who simply shrugged.
"Please M'Lord Buckingham, time's a wasting dear." Aramis spoke up.
The Duke produced an ornately carved box made of oak, and opened it to reveal a wondrous jewelled diamond necklace with rubies set to resemble roses along with a matching earring set of earrings.." Magnificent aren't they? Roses for my Rosy."
Illya surmised that he wouldn't wake up now until this mission was finished, that's what this dream was about, completing a mission. Regardless of what century or reality it was, the mission came first, however absurd some of its elements seemed.
They left the ship, mounting their horses,heading out on the main road that would take them to Paris. As the sun began to set, they needed to find a place to rest, eat and find fresh horses to complete their journey.
Porthos and his companions sought shelter at a small chateau. Dismounting in front of the building; the only sound they heard was the crunch of their boots on the gravel path leading to the door.
The night sky was suddenly lit up by a flash of lightning, followed by a rolling boom of thunder.
"One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi," Illya muttered using a colloquial method to estimate the distance of the storm. It took a five count until he heard the thunder, divided by five, for five seconds per mile, calculating the storm was roughly a mile away.
Illya knocked on the door, and to his surprise it was answered by Kitty.
"Oh Monsieur D'Artagnan, what a wonderful surprise."
"What are you doing here? Is this is your home?"
"It is the home of my mistress, Milady."
"But the Chateau we met you at in Versaille...before, that was not hers?"
"Oui. It was hers as well. We come to this one to be closer to the coast."
Violent lightning flashed again followed by a roar of thunder, driving Kitty directly into Illya's arms. "Oh my goodness, such things frighten me."
"It would be better if we came inside Mademoiselle." He tried easing past her, waving for the others to follow.
"Mais non, Monsieur D'Artagnan, that would not be wise. My mistress has...men here. Soldiers of the Cardinal. There is some plot afoot."
"Merci ma cherie," Illya said, putting his finger to her lips to silence her. "Show me where they are," he whispered, waiving for the others to stay put.
She took him by the hand, leading him down a corridor to a door leading to the room where Milady and the men were.
Illya waved Kitty off, not wanting her to be seen helping them. He listened carefully to Angelique as she ordered the men around.
"You are to waylay the Musketeers and that blond bumpkin on the road from Calais and take the jewels from them. The Cardinal must be free of any suspicion and his request for the Musketeers help must present him as looking out for the Queen and King's interest."
"What do we do with the jewels Milady after we have dispatched the Musketeers and the Gascon?"
"Bring them back to me. A gift from the Cardinal for my loyalty." She purred. "I'll have the stones reset so as to not be recognized. Hmmm, it'll have to be something unusual perhaps. Angelique held a hand mirror up to look at herself, stroking her throat vainly. "Perhaps something with a bird?"
That was all Illya needed to hear, and backed away from the door but his foot put pressure on a loose floorboard and the loud creak gave his presence away.
"Chyort!" he growled as he took off back down the corridor. The Cardinals men were not far behind. "Run!" he called out as he passed Napoleon and April.
They flew out the door of the chateau into the pouring rain, climbing up onto their horses and galloping off into the darkness; the road illuminated by the spectacular lightning as it flashed in the night sky.