Thank you everyone for your wonderful feedback and comments. I do enjoy them! We're about 1/3 of the way through the story already. This is a long one, over 100,000k words. I'll admit, it got away from me. It's going to get bumpy this week, so hold on!

On with the show (wink, wink!)...

Chapter 21

A bell chimed above the door. Athos pushed it open and was hit with the overwhelming aroma of lavender. A wall of clothing hung from hooks to his right: blouses, braies, doublets, and leather britches. To his left were displays of corsets, bodices, chemises, and a full-length cream-colored gown with pearl buttons along the sleeves. It was a dress fit for a queen.

Madame Buniox stepped from the archway leading to her sewing chambers. A marked string hung around her neck and draped along her bosoms. The sleeves of her blouse were pulled to her elbows and pins were carefully placed along the main fold near her forearm. Her graying, blonde hair was pulled back from her face and confined within the folds of a piece of fabric. Her blue eyes danced as she looked up with a smile. She was older and her face was marred with laugh lines and crow's feet. She was short, with a curvy frame and ample breasts.

Clorette paused, smiled, and then placed her hands on her hips. "Oh my," she said as Porthos stepped beside Athos.

Both men, over six feet, with looks of determination, stood before her. Porthos, a couple inches taller than Athos, with his hair curled into tightly matted twists against his scalp, a well-trimmed dark beard and mustache accentuated his strong jaw. Dark eyes that reminded Clorette of a man who could be dangerous if pushed, but kind and gentle when needed. The long scar across his left eyebrow accentuated his intrigue. She was a seamstress, and she saw a man with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs, and strong thighs. "What is a woman like myself to do when two handsome men — musketeers, no less — enter my establishment?"

Porthos smiled proudly, which softened his features. "A woman with taste," he said and looked at Athos with a grin.

"You," Clorette pointed to Porthos and walked toward him. "You are a fine example of a man."

Porthos' smile increased.

She raised his left arm, stood back, and looked critically at him. She removed her measuring string, brought it to his shoulders, and took her time as she took his measurements. "So handsome," she muttered, stepped away, and looked once more at him. She turned suddenly and left the room through the same door she had entered.

Porthos looked at Athos, who diverted his gaze and tilted his head in amusement, and said, "She thinks I'm 'andsome."

Madame Buniox stepped back through the doorway while holding a blouse by its shoulders seems. The cream color caught Porthos' eye, and he watched her gently drape it over her right arm as she stepped before him. "Try this on," she said and ignored Athos' frown as he glanced at her. "I made this for a man about your size," she said. "With your complexion, white can be too stark, but this," she ran her hand along the fabric, "will soften your strong features."

Athos stepped back and gently picked up the sleeve of a white blouse that hung from a hook on the wall near the door. The fabric was soft, and the hand-sewn seams were carefully hidden in the folds and barely visible.

Porthos unhooked his weapons belt, slapped Athos on his shoulder, and handed them to him. "Hold this," he said and quickly unbuttoned his doublet. He smiled as he shrugged out of the sleeves, and then he handed it to Athos. "This too."

Athos draped Porthos' doublet over his arm, felt the weight of it, and watched him grab the collar of his blouse and pull it over his head. Athos glanced at Madame Clorette, who fought her smile when Porthos exposed a fit, muscular frame, and broad shoulders. He watched her blush as Porthos took the blouse she handed him and pulled it over his head and slip his arms into the sleeves.

The fabric felt smooth across his skin. The extra wide collar would extend past the thick leather of Porthos' doublet and elegantly drape over the curve that surrounded his neck for protection. Like the collar, the cuffs had been crafted with intricate lace that was soft to the touch and moved freely with the wearer. The end of the long V of the collar stopped at Porthos' sternum and his leather necklace with the small silver medallion looked elegant within the frame of lace and fine fabric.

Porthos shoved the hem of the blouse into his britches, rubbed his hand along the length of his left arm, and smiled. "It doesn't itch," he said, looked at Athos and raised his eyebrows.

"It fits you well," Clorette said as she pulled and tugged at the blouse while she walked around him, "much better than I thought it might." She smiled with a twinkle in her eye. "The gentleman I made it for… lacked your… fine physique."

Athos rolled his eyes and worked to curtail his amusement.

Porthos continued to smile and he nodded. "How much for the blouse?" he asked and pumped his shoulders in satisfaction when the fabric moved with him.

Madame Clorette stepped back as she ran her fingers across his chest, feigning the straightening of the blouse, and then quickly placed her hands on her hips. "You can't afford it on a musketeer's salary," she said flatly, and watched the joy on Porthos' face fall. "However," she said, "there are several bolts of fabric I need to have brought into my sewing—"

"Show me the way," Porthos said and took a step forward.

Clorette raised a finger to stop him. "Not in that blouse, Monsieur." She raised her eyebrows and said, "That blouse is nearly as costly as that dress." She pointed toward the gown to her right and then reached for the lace on the collar of his blouse and gently ran her fingers over the intricate stitching. "Everything about this is my creation."

Porthos exhaled through puffed cheeks and looked at the lace at the cuffs and how it hung toward his fingers. The loose fitting sleeves moved gracefully with him, and draped over his frame, emphasizing his size, and his physique.

Athos fought his smile and watched Porthos carefully remove the blouse. Athos tossed him his used one. "Don't be long," he said with a smug grin.

"It's worthy enough to wear at the palace," Porthos said proudly.

"I should say so," Clorette said. "King Louis has several of my blouses," she curled her nose and said in a softer tone, "he lacks your fitness, but enjoys the comfort they provide."

Porthos tilted his head in amusement and then followed Madame Clorette from the room.

Athos watched them leave, looked at Porthos' doublet and weapons belt he still held, and exhaled softly as he casually continued to browse.

"Now you," Clorette said as she reentered the room and stepped toward him. "Your attire is well made, finely stitched… and while it's well worn and in need of some repair," she picked at a buttonhole that had frayed near his collar and the stitching that had worn, "this is not the quality of a doublet often seen on a man other than nobility and I highly doubt a musketeer would steal such an item." She raised her eyebrows in assessment. "Am I correct?"

Athos clinched his jaw. He swallowed and looked uncomfortably at her.

"I meant no offense, Monsieur. I have a very keen eye when it comes to haberdashery." She dusted his shoulder. "While you're not as broad as your friend, your looks are just as pleasing to the eye," she said with a wink. "A woman of my age," she raised her eyebrows, "has earned the right to say so." She patted Athos' arm when he quirked his lips. "Now," she said, pointing her finger toward the ceiling and then walking to the back of the room. She maneuvered through a stack of leather doublets, searched through several, and then carried one toward him.

"Madame Buniox, while I admire your work —"

"I have stitched finery for kings, queens, and nobility across France, Monsieur," she said. "Allow me the privilege of adding a piece to your wardrobe." She raised the piece higher. "The color will complement your green eyes and dark hair without compromising your fair complexion."

"I must protest," Athos said with a hint of regret. He gestured sadly and raised his hand in protest. "I cannot."

"Do not deny a dying woman's request."

Athos' face fell and he looked at her with remorse. "I'm sorry —"

"I'm not dead yet," Clorette frowned and raised the doublet to shoulder height.

Athos furrowed his brow and watched her proudly display her work. The doublet was a fine piece. The dark leather glistened beneath the lantern light. The silver buttons were small and elegant, and the pockets were placed to benefit the wearer.

"I stitched this for my son," she said and then, with a shrug, exhaled slowly. "He wanted a doublet that was soft, comfortable, and easy to maneuver in." She smiled proudly as she draped the piece over her arm and smoothed the leather of the collar between her fingers. "He needed something that would protect him… keep him warm…" She twitched her lip and said proudly, "He was quite the soldier."

"Was?" Athos looked at her, watched her look at the doublet as though it was the last piece of her past.

Clorette gently clapped her hand to it and then looked at him. "He left for Germany before I finished it," she said softly. And then with sigh of acceptance, said, "That was over ten years ago."

Athos nodded in understanding. "I cannot, Madame Buniox."

Clorette looked at him sternly. "Very well," she said and turned toward a small counter where funds were exchanged. "You're here to collect the gold lace for the king? It's the only reason why musketeers would travel from Paris to Allier. It is certainly not for the local flavor." She cocked an eyebrow.

Athos adjusted Porthos' doublet over his arm and nodded. "You're correct," he said stepping to the counter.

"You're very composed for a musketeer," she said while folding the leather doublet and then placing it atop the surface. "It's a noble quality." She looked up with her eyebrows raised. "Perhaps that has gone unnoticed by others, but for those of us who know better…" she took a deep breath, looked at Athos and realized he would not engage. Instead, Clorette turned her attention to the queen.

"When I heard of the queen's pregnancy," she said and pulled a carefully folded piece of linen from a lower shelf behind her. "I like, everyone else, prayed that the child would be born safely." The bundle was nearly the length of her arm, and half as wide. She placed it atop the doublet and then carefully peeled back the linen to expose a sheer sapphire blue fabric with gold lace and embroidery. Gold threading curved along the hem and was interwoven delicately within the blooms of daisies and stems of ferns. Each stitch had been designed and placed with perfect precision. The lower part of the fabric was inundated with gold and then slowly fanned into sporadic displays of ferns and flowers.

"I've never seen anything like it," Athos said taken aback. He looked at the fabric and then at Clorette, who nodded. "It's…" he shrugged, "beautiful."

Clorette nodded and carefully ran her fingertips over the designs. "It took me years to complete this." She smiled fondly, and then re-wrapped it. She secured it with several ties, and then rested her hands atop with a heavy sigh. "When King Louis ordered this… the thread came from the orient, and the fabric from Italy." She looked at Athos. "He believed in me… My husband had died and I chose to continue his business. With the funds he provided me, I was able to secure this place," she placed her hand on the bundle and gently ran her fingers over the string, "I built my business and have had the pleasure — like I said before — of providing attire for a great many people."

"Done," Porthos said as he entered the room. He dusted his hands on his thighs, pulled at the collar of his blouse, and then reached for his doublet. "Madame Buniox," he said with a smile. "It 'as been a pleasure."

Clorette handed Athos the gold lace fabric and then reached for another bundle of linen. She folded Porthos' blouse and placed it within the confines and when Athos stepped back toward the door; she slipped the doublet from beneath the pile and placed it atop Porthos' blouse and then wrapped them both. She looked at Porthos, who looked questionably at her, and she tilted her head toward Athos.

"Women," she said, "sometimes need to be careful and secretive about the things we do." She handed the bundle to Porthos. "Enjoy the blouse, young man."

Porthos smiled, leaned forward, and kissed her cheek. "I'll make sure 'e gets it."

Clorette patted his chest and exhaled slowly. "If I were 30 years younger," she smiled, "you'd have a difficult time out running me."

Porthos laughed, held the package to his chest, and then followed Athos out the door.