Felice found herself lying on her side in a green flower field in Gascony. The sweet smell of the country grass was welcoming, like warm sun rays. Far off, she could see D'Artagnan galloping across the country astride Buttercup at a canter, Constance's arms grasping his waist, her golden hair flapping in the wind. Porthos was dressed exceedingly elaborate, with a flock of townswomen around him. Typical. Athos was sitting with his back against the cottage, sulking and drinking, as usual. Mother's scrumptious cooking traveled the breeze, Father was chopping wood.
A shadow loomed over her, and at first she gasped in fright, thinking it to be Rochefort. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. Until she gazed up and saw who the shadow belonged to. Aramis's lean silhouette stood against the sunlight, his black, wavy hair blowing in the wind. He was out of uniform, dressed in a simple white shirt, and black trousers and his sturdy black boots. Felice smiled without realizing it. Her heart continued to thud, only this time it was not triggered by fear, and her tummy filled with butterflies.
"You frightened me." She teased.
"Never!" Aramis said dramatically.
"You did." Felice insisted.
"Apologies, my lady." Aramis grinned. He stooped down on the grass and sat next to her. He gripped her hand and kissed it. "Permit me to soothe your troubled mind."
"I think that you actually look prettier out of uniform." Felice said.
"Do I?" Aramis furrowed his brows. "And here I grew up with the false impression that military wear would woo the ladies without fail!" He sighed dramatically. "How I have been grievously deceived!"
"I do not deny that I find you quite dapper in uniform, my love." Felice played with his long fingers. "Striking, really! And yet…"
"Yet what?" Aramis groaned. "Would you mind telling a poorly confused man of God just what you are getting at?"
"While your dashing official getup sets many hearts aflutter, I can admire your gorgeous eyes much better when you are not concealing them from me underneath that big hat." Felice giggled.
"Ahh." Aramis lowered himself on his side and pulled her toward him. "So you noticed them, did you?"
"Couldn't be helped." She reached her hand out and caressed his dark stubble.
" 'Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain', my darling. Need I remind you?"
"True. But you cannot help that you've been cursed with such good looks. However, it's all vanity, really."
"That it is." Aramis sighed to himself.
"Compared to your godly heart. That is far more alluring than any physical qualities." Felice whispered.
"That is a great relief." Aramis smiled widely. He ran his hand through her long, auburn hair, as beautiful as autumn leaves in full bloom. He leaned closely and reached for her lips.
Felice's heart pounded, and she unashamedly returned his affections.
Felice's eyes flew open, and she gasped. Her body tingled with goosebumps. "Oh, my g-!" She breathed.
"Felice? You alright?" Aramis asked, sitting beside the bed.
"Y-yeah. Yes. Just had a...strange dream is all." Felice drew in a deep breath.
"It's the fever." Aramis decided.
It must be! Felice told herself. It HAD to be! Why the heck would I ever dream that otherwise? It...it was stupid! It was maddening! It was so silly. It was...beautiful. Wonderful. No! It was sooo awkward!
Aramis felt her face. "Fever seems to be down." He said gladly. "How do you feel, love?"
Why did he call me that?
"Something wrong?" Aramis asked quizzically.
"What did you ask me?" Felice gaped at him. Her cheeks were flushed red.
"I fear you are developing delirium." Aramis said. "I may need to send Planchet to fetch the doctor."
"No." Felice groaned.
"Lie back down, dear. Here." Aramis placed a cool rag on her head. "Keep that on. I'm going to have Kitty fix you some warm broth."
Felice was relieved when he left the room. Her mind was whirling, and she couldn't process her thoughts with him hanging around, asking ridiculous, unrelated questions. "It was just a stupid dream." She scolded herself. "That's all it was! I must be sicker than the doctor said! Am I becoming delirious? Is this what it feels like?"
"You alright, Miss?" Kitty spoke, poking her head in the door.
"What?"
"You's speakin' to yoself." Kitty said innocently. "Master Aramis told me to whip up some broth. But I thought I's should check on you first."
"I'm alright." Felice pursed her lips.
Kitty closed the door and ran to Aramis. "She's real unwell, sir." She informed him. "She's talkin' to herself!"
"Planchet, fetch the doctor. On the double!" Aramis ordered. "Now, man!"
"I'm moving as quickly as I can, sir!" Planchet cried defensively, rushing out the door.
Mother, I wish you were here! Felice thought. To help me sort out these tangled thoughts! Where did that come from? Aramis is my friend. A very good friend. But...that's...all.
She thought on how devotedly he'd been tending her. She recalled how strongly he'd carried her off the ship, without fear of dropping her, but pained that he could be aggravating her injuries. Her thoughts drifted to how carefully he'd checked her wound. Her body fluttered inside as she remembered his fingers brushing against her bare stomach.
She yearned for him to do it again, just to experience the warmth of it again.
No, no! Athos or Porthos would have done the same if they were left to look after me. This is absurd. I'm not attracted to Aramis in that way. I'm not! He's my friend. And with all those high and mighty men in power always trying to use me, I will never be attracted to a man! I won't! I can't! They're not to be trusted.
Not in that way.