Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 39: Man in Black

"Do not, Ysabeau, it is I, Philippe." His warm breath tickled across her cheek, his grip loosening, but going to her hips. He spun her about and pressed his mouth to hers. "Please forgive me for letting you down, ma chérie, my heart has been breaking. I had lost you and I swear to never again."

"Philippe!" Had her breath truly been so pent up? It was if the entire weight of her collective care released and she gladly met his lips with every bit of zeal. Several moments later, they parted with heavy breaths.

"Ysabeau, I do not know what you are about, but do not do this, you will be killed."

"Let me tell you something, mon amour," she whispered against his wet lips, her forehead pressing to his, "I have been training my whole life. I have mastered its art and done more than any musketeer could by going beyond my calling on my own time without the bedding and wine. I longed to fight for king and country, but knowing full well that it was all in vain. Who would let a femme do such things? No one. I am alone in my desires. This is a world of men." A sad smile seeped through her. "But you know what?" She tangled her fingers through his hair, brushing the tip of her nose along his lashes. "Who better than to right wrongs than I? It is my calling, my duty, my right as it was for Jeanne d'Arc."

"Jeanne d'Arc?"

 "Oui, the truest warrior ever known. My heart thanks the Lord for her true humility and I strive to be like her." Though the sainted femme fought in the name of God, Ysabeau would in the name of vengeance, but she was not about to say as much to him. "As it was her pilgrimage to stand for truth, so this is mine. Now release me, Philippe, for no one will change my mind."

 "Where is it you go?" He held her by the shoulders, his face urgent.

"What I plan to do would force you to stop me as the Garde de la Manche, Philippe. Naturally, I cannot say."

"Then I will not allow you to leave this property." He lifted his chin, his eyes piteous.

"Ah, that presents a problem." He gave her a nod. An idea presented itself, and she dared to test it, hoping for success. "Will you ride with me? There is no crime in a ride through the eventide, is there?" She slipped her glove from her hand, allowing her fingertips to play with the open area of his shirt, his skin warm to her touch.

He gazed at her touch, his hand covering hers, his emotion changing to one of passion.

"Come, I want to show you something." She led him to the conservatory, the glass fogged with ash and stained with smoke. She closed the door and led him deeper. Once within the heart, in the cover of many leafy plants and in the dim of the dawn, she removed her cassock. "M'embrasser."

She led him to her lips, her hand firm behind his neck, the other, at his chin. His arms came around her waist, and pressed her to him. She eased from her quiver, her bow, each sword, musket and bandolier without breaking stride. He aided the removal of her every weapon, his focus one of urgent desire.

Ysabeau, though unused to such affections, enjoyed the delicious sensation of her body as it whispered to his. His every kiss, brush, touch . . . his every tenderness, though it increased with every passing moment.

Philippe lowered her to the cobblestones, his cloak shielding her from the cold beneath. She lifted her leg, felt the rim of her boot at her fingertip and his hand locked under her knee.

"Philippe?" she gasped. His kisses lowered to her neck.

"Oui, mon amour?"

"I love you."

"And I you." He smiled sweetly, his free hand grazing her cheek ever so soft.

"Please forgive me." She pressed her mouth to his jaw where it met at his ear, and with a swift movement, retrieved the King's dagger and slammed the hilt thereof to his head.