The Cardinal gives Minette a gift...I'm posting this chapter and the next at the same time as they kinda go together. The gifts are symbolic, in that both parties want to express their love but cannot, or will not.

More excuse for gratuitous nooky I'm afraid...why did I start writing this story! Oh and there's more Aramis...

CHAPTER EIGHT

FOR YOU.

Spiralling upwards out of a hazy dream. She stretched herself and yawned. She was alone in the bed. He had risen early, before cock-crow, and left her to sleep. If she stayed in his bed at night, he usually required her to return to The Residence before the business of the day began. But since her illness, he seemed happy for her to stay, and would return to her, if he could, during the day.
It was Easter Sunday and he left her there, to celebrate early morning Eucharist, with the Royal Party at the Notre Dame Cathedral in the city.
Before leaving, he leaned across her, as she stirred, drowsy from slumber, he kissed her with great tenderness.
"Stay." He whispered, " I will return by nine, we will break our fast together."

Spring sunshine, thin and watery stole through the heavy drapes at the windows. The candles had guttered and extinguished themselves. Birds were singing lustily. The Palace was waking, sounds of the impending day, filtering up through the casement.
She rose, washed and dressed, and made her way down to the gardens.
The Cardinal's apartments in Paris, were spacious and richly appointed. The Palace complex was vast, divided into wings, each a separate entity from the others. The Royal apartments were at the centre of all things and Richelieu was closest to them, by dint of being First Minister.
Directly beneath his rooms were his own private gardens, and Minette loved to walk there whenever she could.
Today, the air was fresh from recent rains. Blossom hung on the trees, which formed a guard of honour on either side of a gravel walk. Through an arch in the tall yew hedge, was her favourite spot. A beautiful knot garden, a square, divided into four in a cross shape, bordered by box hedging. Inside each square were aromatic herbs; thyme, marjoram, rosemary. There were lavenders, and rose bushes, a pergola draped with wisteria and a small fountain playing in the centre, it's tinkling music a delight to the ear. In one corner was a Greek style arbour, with stone columns and climbing scented jasmine on a trellis, where she could sit on a stone bench in the cool shade, and read or just enjoy the scent of the flowers and the song of the birds.
She wandered the paths, her fingers idly brushing the foliage as she passed, pausing beside a sundial, then looking up as the sun climbed slowly in the sky.

The figure, was moving quickly, furtively, looking from side to side as he hurried. He stopped abruptly as he came face to face with her. She immediately recognised him. It was too late for him to pretend he hadn't seen her, so he swept a theatrical bow, doffing his hat.
"Well, if it isn't my beautiful dance partner!" His smile was wide and he looked disarmingly handsome.
She looked him up and down. Blushing with embarrassment.
His clothes were dishevelled, shirt untucked, breeches half unfastened. His coat slung rakishly over his arm.
"What are you doing here? These gardens are private."
"They are also an excellent shortcut, Mademoiselle!" He smirked.
He moved towards her, but she backed away.
"You'd better leave, and quickly." She said.
"There is no hurry, when there is beauty such as yours to look at."
"If you are caught you will be punished, and so will I." She moved to pass him.
He caught her wrist and stayed her.
"It irks me that that vile monster should even lay a hand on you, that you are forced into his bed..."
Minette snatched her arm away angrily.
"Do not presume to comment on what you do not understand." She cried.
"Poor, little fool," he returned, pityingly," he has you in his thrall."
She smacked his face, with all the strength she could muster.
"How dare you stand there and say that? You, who are clearly running from your own debauched liaison? He is one hundred times the man you are, Aramis. Do not judge what you do not know. I would rather be in his bed than in yours. Now go, before I call the guards!"
"This is not over, my pretty one." He retorted, rubbing his smarting cheek, " I will see you yet, I would like to know what makes you tick!"
"Get away from me, Musketeer, I would die before I let you anywhere near me."
"We shall see!" He laughed, and grabbing her hand, he kissed it lightly and was gone.

The meeting unnerved her. It heightened her emotions, she knew her words to Aramis were true. Her Master had become more to her than someone like him could ever be, young and good looking, though he was. On returning to the rooms, she found The Cardinal already returned.
As she entered, he turned to greet her,
"Ah, little one, there you are, I..."
She ran across the room to him, flinging her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently, over and over.
"Armand!" She crooned.
"Great Heavens," he exclaimed, "what's all this? I've only been away a few hours!"
She had never expressed to him in words, that she loved him, although she realised now, that, surely, it must be true, this feeling could not be purely gratitude. Nor did she ever expect him to say he loved her, a man did not profess his love for a mistress. One such as her, was a commodity, to be kept, used and then discarded.
He sat in his chair, bringing her onto his lap, her favourite place to be. Arms encircling her.
"Have you eaten?" He asked, nuzzling her face.
"No, I waited for you."
"Then let's have something, I am hungry. And afterwards, I have something for you."
They moved to the table together, the maid servant brought eggs and bread, fruit and milk posset for them to share.
Wiping his lips on a cloth, as he finished, Richelieu rose, and fetched a small parcel. He handed it to Minette, and kissed her hand.
"For you."
She looked from him, to the gift, and back again. Almost apprehensive.
"Open it." He urged.
Her fingers trembled as she unwrapped the cloth covering, and revealed the present.
It was a beautiful, prayer book, hand bound in soft goatskin, dyed a deep red. Each page was vellum, illuminated with hand painted images from the scriptures, finished in gold leaf, lapis blue, ochre and all colours, exquisite lettering in manuscript characters. Inside the fly leaf, in his own flowing spidery hand, was written;

Pour vous, ma chère. Votre propre maître. *(For you, my dear one. Your own master).

Her chest ached, she turned the small volume over in her hands, then held it to her bosom. He watched her, expectant, hopeful. She began to cry, and he took her into his arms, soothing her, his face against her neck, touching his lips to her skin.
"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever possessed. Thank you Armand." She dried her tears, and he continued to caress her gently. Looking into his face, then, she could see his pupils dilated, aroused.
Minette climbed from his embrace, stood in front of him and began to undress, slowly and deliberately, loosening her laces, exposing her beautiful skin, laying her clothes aside. He remained seated, watching her avidly, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Naked, she knelt at his feet in an act of supplication.
"God Bless you, my dear Master."
She raised herself, her hands moving up his thighs, as his breathing became more ragged. Still on her knees, she parted his legs and moved between them, reaching up to unfasten his tunic, pulling his undershirt over his head, and placing it with her own garments. Stroking down his chest, to his navel and the waist of his black breeches, she loosened them, and he lifted his buttocks so that she could slide them off. He was hard, jutting out from his body, his head resting back now, eyes closed, mouth open slightly. The little sound that left him as her mouth closed around him, made her inwardly smile. Her movement unhurried, leisurely, it was all he could do to stop himself thrusting upwards. She stood up, and he opened his eyes at the break in contact. Straddling him with her legs, she lowered herself onto him, adjusting to the feel, filling her deliciously, as she began to undulate her hips. Their lips touched, pressing together, he moaned against her mouth.
"Little one..."
"Master!" She whispered, as her rhythm increased. Hearing her say that word, pushed him over the edge, it made him feel powerful, omnipotent, masterful, and he loved it.
She followed after him, sitting more upright across his lap to greater enhance the sensation. Before sinking into his chest, sated, blissful.

When she returned to The Residence, later that afternoon, clutching her precious gift, her heart was full.