Malmaison, August 1799 - Passion & Betrayal

----------------------- outside Paris, Malmaison, August 1799 -------

Adeláire was bored to death. Joséphine had not engaged with her since the soiree, leaving it to her "girls" to take care of the newcomer. There was a great coming and going of messengers, sometimes with gifts, sometimes only with letters. But it was impossible to catch even a small shred of it before it got right into Joséphine's hands. Slowly Adeláire wondered if her plan would ever be crowned with success. Two weeks had passed and so far she, Arno and Verne had not dared to exchange ideas with each other. So she did not even begin to suspect if her brothers might be more successful in their mission.

Lethargic, she sighed and enjoyed the cool wetness of the fountain on her bare feet. The August sun burned hot from a cloudless sky and the girls had made themselves comfortable in the garden under an extra stretched pavilion. Tired, they fanned and just seemed to wait for the evening to bring cooler breezes.

"We should… do… something,” one of the girls moaned lazily.

"But what? It's way too hot for... well... just everything... " another grumbled back.

With a sudden jerk, Genevieve took the initiative again and struck her fan in the delicate palm of her hand.  "No need to let ourselves hang down, my dears. I have an idea and I expect full support in its execution. Accepted?"

Adeláire would have frowned in confusion if she did not feel so tired.  "Are you going to tell us exactly to what we are agreeing?" 

Genevieve smiled at her mischievously before answering.  "Then it's neither a surprise nor funny. You have to say ‘yes’ without knowing what it's about." 

Adeláire returned the mischievous smile.  "Why do I have the feeling that you will be the only one of us who will enjoy the idea?" A silence resounded like between two circulating wildcats until Adeláire gave in. "Alright, I will play your game with you. Accepted." 

Genévieve beamed.  "Ha!  Great." She rose vigorously and smiled down on the other girls. "Of all the others, I just presuppose an agreement as given. I'll be right back." She disappeared toward the estate.

"Oh, this can only end badly," Constanze mumbled furtively.

In fact, it did not take not long until Genevieve returned. Alone. With her mischievous smile. Adeláire merely raised a questioning eyebrow as she tried to relieve her sweaty neck with a palm wet with water from the fountain.

"Let yourself be surprised," was the only thing Genevieve stated, before settling back in her midst.

Adeláire had almost forgotten the burst of energy when Genévieve spoke again, "You know what you dear, we should not hang here like dead flies in a spider web. We are, after all, court-ladies to the woman at Bonaparte's side. We have a reputation to lose. Let's find some movement."

A protesting moan arose in the ranks of the girls, which Adeláire did not even feel obliged to join.

"Yes, yes, as I said. We should practice our dances. At the last soiree I have to recognize one or the other fatal flaws in the step sequences. Yeah, no, Constanze, you too."

The chatter died away as crunching footsteps sounded on the gravel path. Adeláire sat with her back to the obvious newcomers and therefore registered only amazement at the widespread of mischievous smile.

"We were told that the ladies wished our presence?"

Formal in tone with a clear trace of wonder, the familiar voice penetrated Adeláire’s ear. It sent a shiver down her spine that she could not really interpret what it was. With new energy, she straightened up, pulled her half-bared legs under her skirt and suddenly realized just how thin the damn mousseline was.

"Oh yes, that's what we wish for, gentlemen.” The reply came sweetly charming from Genevieve, who, grinning, watched Adeláire. As the blonde rose, Adeláire fumbled at her neckline with the sudden question of why she even bothered. If anyone knew her in her birthday suit, it was surely Dorian.

"Incidentally, we noticed that we don’t even know the names of you two men. Since you have accompanied our delightful Adeláire here, we had never again the opportunity to introduce each other."

Adeláire turned her eyes towards her brothers and took a modest, demure position. How she would like to have something to throw against Verne’s head at that very moment, literally; she could make out his amused flash in the eyes all too clearly. Arno’s attitude was different. He devoted his frowning attention to the blonde lady, who was examining and rounding him like a prize-bull at an auction. This elicited a furtive and amused grin from Adeláire.

The girls got up and were unabashedly engaged in the patterning of the two male beings.

"They both seem to have lost their speech,” Genévieve laughed, causing Arno to clear his throat. Was Adeláire wrong or did he consciously avoid meeting her gaze?

"Roussel, Victor Roussel,” Arno said dryly. They deliberately used his middle name as camouflage. This minimized the risk that he would not respond to a call in the heat of the battle because the alias was too foreign to him.

"So, Victor... a winner... mhmm..." Genévieve purred into his ear as she snuggled up against him provocatively.

"And our handsome blond here is Nicolá, as he has just revealed to Constanze,” informed one of the girls, who was just busy with Verne’s trained back. Adeláire gave another grin as Verne slowly relaxed and as unabashedly as the ladies began to find favor with this strange game.

Genévieve turned with an exquisitely-played pout to Adeláire, who was the only one who had not yet risen from her place.  "Too bad that the good Victor comes along so stiff. I believe my dear Adeláire, you will have to lighten him up a bit." 

This immediately caused the Assassin to feel her cheeks flare up.  "Ehm, what... why... why me?"

Genévieve’s mischievous smile was once again mixed something viper-like.  "Well, because we watched him watching you. And we are all convinced that he has fallen in love with you on the long journey you have brought behind you together. As a result, he will not relax in our presence unless you give him permission to do so." A deliberately chosen pause of effect. "Or you leave us alone with him." Genevieve watched Adelaire with a pervasive pattern as if seemingly observing what reaction she could elicit from Adeláire before she continuing, her voice as sly and oily as ever, "No, that would be too cruel, isn’t that true, my love?"

Adeláire did not have to invent her next reaction in the least, or even pretend to play. Her eyes changed from the somber-tense Arno to Genévieve and back.  "I have to admit, I have absolutely no idea how I should now answer to all that, what would fit the best." 

This prompted Genévieve to clap her hands enthusiastically.  "Great, I managed to completely disconcert her." A new, playful smile gave the following words something soft, "And how you deal with such provocations gallantly ladylike, we’ll teach you that too." Again, another clap into her hand. "But now, up. Get up. The nice young man can’t stand around here so stiff forever."

Genévieve stepped up to Adeláire and pulled her vehemently to her feet and over to Arno, who now had his hands crossed behind his back and apparently was also completely at a loss as to how he should deal with the situation. Why did Verne behave so discretely? A sidelong glance revealed that he seemed to be much less resigned and was already involved in advances with one of the girls.

Adeláire felt like a schoolgirl when Genévieve pushed her so close to Arno that his chest almost touched hers as they breathed. Helpless, she glanced at Genevieve as she appeared next to them. 

The blonde clasped her palms in front of her lips and her eyes sparkled with amusement.  "Come on, dare you. A kiss after all these weeks of adoring you'll probably be giving him a treat, right? "

Adeláire could feel Arno hold his breath for a moment before exhaling in a controlled manner. She herself clasped a hand around her fan. Not knowing what Genevieve wanted to achieve with this game or for what reason caused a feeling to creep up in Adeláire’s neck that made her think this would not end well.  The turned look in Arno's eyes told her that he didn’t fare much differently.

They hesitated on both sides, before both literally shrugged their shoulders in silent communication and surrendered to their fate. And despite the fact that the kiss was swift, wooden and almost innocent, it ignited something deep in Adeláire and apparently initiated that rumbling of great yearning. Furtively, she stepped back from Arno immediately afterwards and could not prevent her fingertips from briefly caressing her lips that had just been touching him. The fact that his eyes followed her movements did not make the whole thing any easier.

"What's that been for a kiss? That’s a kiss from 5-year-olds who find the other sex still somehow funny. Ladies, what do you say? Do we want to see a real kiss from the two?"

And of course, this reinsurance would not have been needed. What other than approval could be expected on such a question?

"So you two beauties, you heard it. The majority has decided." One could clearly recognize the fun in Genevieve's voice. Adeláire declared herself beaten, smiled gently up at Arno and this time visibly lifted her shoulders.

Arno studied her briefly, intensely. And then seemed to make a decision. He released his arms behind his back and turned his gaze briefly to Genévieve. Whatever this transported, it made her blush and shake gently until he dismissed her and again devoted himself to Adeláire.

It passed through her hot as she perceived the predatory on him. A warning flashed in her eyes, to not reveal more to the attendees than could be good for them as Assassins. A corner of his mouth rose mockingly, before he raised his hand and placed it surprisingly gently around her throat. His eyes held her as iron as they had at her first, or rather second, being together. His thumb stroked her chin and directed it to the side. His free hand rose to her carotid artery and playful fingertips moved from there over her collarbone to her heavily breathing thorax. He spared the too tell-tale zones and finally let the wandering hand sink. Only five fingers at her throat, he started and directed her backwards until her shoulder blades touched one of the pillars of the pavilion. Only now his free hand slid into her waist and pulled her close with a jerk that gave Adeláire a small gasp. She would have loved to see the crowd present, but Dorian's captivating gaze didn’t allow her a breath of freedom.

When he finally lowered his eyes and head to explore with soft lips the wildly beating pulse on a slender neck, Adeláire did not care what opinion the rest of the world displayed. A soft sigh penetrated Dorian's ear while slender, gently trembling fingers strayed into his hair resting on his neck. Arno had to be crazy to take such an immense risk. She felt the request as lips disappeared and a gentle movement goes through the hand at her throat. Swishing green hit intense burning brown before greedy lips finally found their destination.

Was that really a soft murmur that flowed through the women's row? Adeláire did not care as much as before. The alarm sirens in her head shrilled and at the same time her treacherous body enjoyed what Dorian was risking. With her last strength, she tried not to be too familiar with him and did not have the slightest idea if she even succeeded in doing so.

When he finally released her, breathing heavily, his hand buried itself in her curls and turned her head so that softly whispering lips could find her ear undetected by the watching audience.  "We need to talk. The three of us. This evening. Stable."

Now she understood why Arno had finally played so complacently. It had finally given them an opportunity to exchange ideas for a meeting.

"Was such an intense performance really necessary,” she whispered back softly and could not resist to place a small but quite noticeable bite in his neck. The smile and the sparkle in his eyes could almost have been described as arrogant if she did not like that boyish way about him. She knew it flashed in her eyes, that he was going to pay her for it.

"Uhh, I want such a kiss too."

Immediately Adeláire and Arno felt buzzing from the ladies and were strongly urged apart. Only Genévieve and Constanze stood a little offside and watched the whole scene intensively. Or rather, watched Adeláire intensely. A cold shiver ran down her spine again. How much had they revealed?

The sudden clearing of a throat interrupted the festivities.  "Ladies, unfortunately I have to interrupt the certainly pleasant activities. Madame Bonaparte wishes the ladies’ presence in the blue salon."

A low murmur and moan began. On the one hand because of the end of the amusement, on the other hand because it was much less airy and pleasant in the house than in the garden. Gaston nodded graciously and threw devastating glances at the other two gentlemen.  "I assume the gentlemen know their working schedule and do not hesitate to resume it immediately."

"No, they certainly do not line,” Verne muttered softly, who parted with a deep sigh from one of the girls.

Arno gave Adeláire one last look before turning to follow Verne. Struggling, she tore her gaze from his back and tried to soften her inner blazing heat with her fan. Unsuccessful. Had she already lost her eternal fight against love? The new horror in her neck was all too explainable, and gratefully she entered the shadows of the house, wishing to leave behind the events of the summer garden.

Joséphine had nothing more to tell them except that she would have to leave Malmaison for a few days. She chose Genévieve and Constanze to escort her and gave the other ladies some proper tasks. For a moment Adeláire sighed inwardly, enervated. In the next, however, she recognized the opportunities that could result from Joséphine's absence. Maybe this was finally the time to get results. Convenient that she, Arno, and Verne had taken the opportunity to make an appointment for the evening. So no further planning was delayed.

Exhilarated and vibrating with enthusiasm, Adeláire demanded a certain amount of control, not wanting to rush out and put plans into action. She could not really concentrate on the reading Joséphine had imposed on her and would have gladly missed the evening dinner. The fact that Verne and Arno were delegated at the entrance to guard the salon did not really make things any better. Adeláire caught herself how her eyes grazed their shoulders repeatedly until Arno finally turned his chin a touch. The well-known tingling in the neck made her smile softly and brought her a giggle of the girls who sat opposite her. She did not have to hear their wits to know about the content. Sighing softly, she poked around in her vegetables on her plate.

The evening seemed to be a never ending story until Joséphine finally got up and dissolved the round. Some girls were still sitting together drinking one last coffee, others were already retreating. Adeláire watched with amusement as the little red-haired, Marie, if she was not mistaken, hovered around Verne. She clearly seemed to like him and was not in the least bit concerned to show it. And she was not surprised that Verne seemed too eager to respond. He was by no means a womanizer, but on such a tempting offer he never said no. Her renewed smirk met an unobtrusively grazing, dark look, which once again sent a pleasant shower into the pit of her stomach.

The night was deep, dark and starry as Adeláire finally ventured out of bedspreads and listened intently to the rooms. She shared her room with no one, just like the other girls. But all bedrooms were interconnected by doors that were all open in the current heat, as were the windows. Adeláire therefore saved herself from putting on shoes and threw only a housecoat over the rather airy mousseline nightgown. After all, Verne did not have to see everything.

Silent as a shadow, she approached one of the open windows and spread her senses. There was no patrol outside, everyone was sleeping soundly and deeply inside. Thoughtfully her gaze wandered down the facade and finally turned inwards to consider the possibilities there. Sighing, green eyes slid down her clothes and how she wished pants and shirt now. But if someone finds her outside, such an outfit would be much too treacherous. So she made the best of it and knotted the layers of the nightgown fabric between her knees and the cloak around her waist.

Carefully and quietly like a cat, the assassin finally swung out of the open window and instinctively steadied herself. She enjoyed the small climb down on level ground more than she had realized. Although her muscles protested more than usual. The lack of training was already noticeable. She would have to work some things up if they could finally leave this place.

Sneaking, quiet, purposeful, Adeláire finally headed for her destination, the horse stables. As skirt and coat, freed from knots and repeatedly caught in bushes, she gathered the fabrics determined and enjoyed the air drafting her bare thighs.

There were only a few lights in the stable and the horses made almost as drowsy of noises as the girls did in their beds. Adeláire did not really fear an ambush. Nevertheless, it had become second nature to her that she had to approach a meeting place with caution, that this was the natural way of doing it. Inaudible as a whisper in the wind, despite the disturbing layers of fabric, she snuggled into cover and spread her senses.

She only detected a silent waiting presence in the back of the stable, appearing only vague due to the limitation of her special senses. Smiling softly, she pulled herself out of the cover and almost did not notice that she continued to move from one cover to the next through the stable. It almost seemed like an eternity that she had last been able to use her Assassin skills. All the more surprised she was with a soft curse on her lips as a strong arm gripped her unyielding around the waist while a free hand brushed her hair aside to release warm lips on her neck.

"Arno... what..." she whispered softly, as his strong, board chest pressed into her back.  He gently pushed her forward, his arm around her waist unyielding and demanding.

"Shhh... so that no one else discovers us..." he whispered softly near her ear as he guided her from behind.

Sighing treacherously, she gave into his movement until one of the stable walls stopped them. While Arno's body held her against the wall, his hands wandered with clear targets. One fumbled her skirts upwards while the other sought her cleavage. Adeláire felt her senses buzzing and she did not quite know how to react.

"But... Verne..." she said, though not in a nearly convincing enough, protesting manner.

"He’s getting better acquainted with the little redhead... so we're... completely alone..."  His voice sounded rough against her ear, while he did not let himself be dissuaded from the caresses that had begun. Targeted, he fumbled the closure of her coat off and pulled it vigorously from her shoulders. Adeláire leaned trembling against the wooden wall of the horse box, which she realized only now, that they were in.

"You're crazy... if someone sees us... or hears..." Again that soft whisper did not really sound like a protest in her ears. Especially not when a strong jerk made the delicate underwear tear apart and his trousers snuggled up against bared, tender skin.

"Will you stop talking sometime today?" He turned her chin and made it clear that he did not really want an answer to his question by firmly sealing her lips with his. Delicate fingertips dug into his long hair and, appreciatively lolling, Adeláire sagged her spine. With a certain amount of satisfaction, she registered his breathlessness as the same as hers when the kiss ended for the time being.

"You realize how dangerous and... stupid... this is all right here, right?"

His eyes sparkled dangerously with amusement as one hand unerringly found the most receptive place for caresses between her thighs. When it seared her like a flash of lightning, and only his holding arm around her waist held her on trembling knees, she emitted a sigh that was clearly too loud in both of their ears. Hurriedly, Arno suppressed any more possible traitorous sounds by another kiss. A mean smirk played around the corner of his mouth as he broke away from her.

"Only if you continue to attract such unwanted attention to us." A renewed movement of his hand between her thighs that made her senses whirr.

"Bastard..." she whispered, almost a little powerless.

"Who's going to behave so badly..." he whispered softly at her neck as her hot forehead leaned against the wall and soft lips cuddled her shoulder.

"Keep it up and I can’t guarantee anything..." A sudden gasp escaped her throat as knowing fingertips made her knees tremble again.

"That's the declared goal of this little... assault..." His voice had an amused tone while he did not even begin to think about putting an end to this dangerous game.

"And I thought you were a man of honor..." The wave of sensations, which at the same time made its way through her body, she only kept vocally under control by biting one of her thumbs. However, he did not give her much time to come to her senses. Gently but emphatically, he turned her around. His right hand pushed into her neck as the left wandered down her thigh and finally, at her knee, pulled it up to his waist. 

It was too dark to read in his eyes, but the voice carried enough.  "I think I do not have to start this proof again. And whether it suits a man of honor or not, in the next few days I'll like the idea that your sweet bosom will remember exactly this every time we see each other."

His voice sent one after the other shiver over her heated skin. It was this timbre of amusement and restrained passion that made her tremble. And so slowly, she even did not care how dangerous and stupid it was, what they were about to do. With a soft sigh, her fingers pushed into his neck while the others grabbed the epaulette of his uniform coat. With a skillful swing she pulled her free knee up and closed both thighs around his hips. The surprised lifting of his eyebrows made her smirk.

"Then you should make sure that my sweet bosom, as you call it so lovingly, will remember this for quite a long time and in very sweet detail." She could hear the luscious undertone in her voice quite clearly. And apparently neither this nor her chosen words missed their goal. Hot lips met hers and suffocated every sound as their both longing for each other became fulfilled through uniting.

As if by a miracle, they did actually succeed in not letting betraying sounds escape to the outside. Even the horses around them did not seem to be bothered by them. Even the wood in Adeláire’s back, which distracted her now and then with a splinter in delicate skin, made no sound. They could enjoy and savor each other with pleasure. And the latter, according to her provocative words, seemed clearly to be in Dorian's sense.

Every time Adeláire thought she could finally fall into salvation, he stopped in his doings and allowed peace to come between them.  Adeláire gradually bathed in sweat and elicited a low whine from her throat. His breath, now similarly heavy and deep, irritated hot shoulder, sometimes neck. Almost powerless, she hung in his arms and felt her thighs trembling around his hips, almost losing their halt.

"Long and detailed enough...?" came, after half an eternity of this driving game, the hoarse question.

Adelaire opened her eyes and met his challenging, dark gaze. She felt, how she stubbornly squeezed her lips, and she began, almost a little outraged, to release the halt of her thighs. Which led Arno to an almost sardonic, smirking smile and he stopped her doing by holding her knees exactly where they were, "Mhmm... wrong answer ..." Provocative, he began to move, causing the flame to rekindle in her. 

With a risky sound, she bent toward him and clung to his shoulder epaulettes.  "What the hell do you want to hear...?" 

Demanding lips on hers, which only resolved after a while of pressing ahead with some vigor. She sensed that he was observing her and demanding her look in his.  "Enough?" Only a very soft, but in their heated condition more than noticeable movement.

"Okay... yes... enough..." she sighed.  "If you, bastard, want to have it so..."  The rest of her sentence was suffocated by a hot wave of emotion and a passionately deep kiss. The salvation finally burned like a stake fire from her center through her entire body. Adeláire sensed that she had no voice, even if her lips were not sealed by his kiss. As in the reflex, it activated her special sense and let it meet his. It was as if she was not only aware of herself, but of him as well. The emotions flowed back and forth, to and fro, driving them to heights and abysses that Adeláire had never encountered before. Almost her mind did not really understand when it finally ended. Only the abating of burning and the return of reality around her conveyed that it was over.

Breathing heavily and sweating as she did, Arno gently and carefully released her knees to lean on the wall behind her with both hands. Adeláire sensed her trembling like aspen leaves and felt that only his body against hers held her on her feet. Soughing support, she almost clung to his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his, that their breaths were crossing each other gasping.

"You... madman..." she whispered. She felt more than she could see the corners of his mouth turning into a smile.

“I seldom have heard that… afterwards… from a woman…” 

This made her return his gentle smile.  "I'm not just… some… woman..." She felt exactly, deep in herself, in the back of her being, how little she herself believed in these words. All the more, her knees softened again as Dorian raised her head and sought her gaze.

"No, you really are not..." Did he feel the trembling of her lips as much as she did? Sometimes she hated so much having to struggle with sensations as any other woman carried around her. All that was missing was that she wanted nothing more than her own little family.

Determined, she pushed such thoughts aside as they used the hay in the box to regain some strength. Silent and stealthy, she did not even want to admit how much she enjoyed Dorian's arm around her shoulders. To feel how his chest raised and lowered beneath her hand, his heart beating vigorously. Oh yes, she had to admit that she was slowly starting to lose the fight against love.

Arno's fingers played with one of her curls as he gazed thoughtfully at the blanket hidden in the dark.  "Did I get it right that Joséphine will travel for a few days?"

Adeláire was immensely grateful to him that he seemed as unwilling to talk about feelings as she herself. Almost tired, she snuggled closer into his arm, playing with the ornament buttons on his uniform.  "You got that right. And yes, I think we should use the time to finally search the house. Especially as she takes Genévieve and Constanze with her. Which means that the two adjoining rooms will also be vacant. So we could not make it any better." 

Smirking lips brushed her head gently.  "That's what you've already thought about carefully." 

Fingertips stroked a strand of hair from her forehead while she sighed softly, "Nothing is more boring than being penned to a horde of girls all day." 

She felt his big grin.  "Oh... well..." came from him in an amused mocking tone, which caused her to give him a noticeable nudge in the side. He acknowledged her movement by a quiet laugh. Almost a little stubbornly, she let herself be pulled close into his arm again.

"I'll admit, sometimes it's pretty fun to provoke your temper." One of his hands wandered under a rather battered nightgown and playfully covered her butt. "Besides many other… irritable… points..."

She felt the impulse to kiss him and to rekindle their passion. But her stubborn bristling had something against it and gained the upper hand. As a result, she playfully slapped his hand under her shirt, trying to cover herself a bit more in a well-behaved way, "We should rather think about how we want to plan our further course of action. Verne does not know anything about our happy circumstances...,” she paused, recalling where Verne was at the moment.  "Well, he's probably going to be notified as well. And if only to be able to promise further… tête-à-tête…" Her request to distract Arno and turn his thoughts away from her to mission seemed to succeed. Thoughtfully he relaxed under her and snuggled his arm around her shoulders again.

"Joséphine wants to leave tomorrow morning. I think we should let one night pass and then look around carefully for the first time. Then we will know how the house ‘ticks’ at night and can better adapt to it." Still thoughtful, he played with one of her curls. "And somehow I doubt we'll find what we're looking for in the first night." 

She nodded silently as her thigh snuggled over his.  "I doubt that, too. So far, this lady Eve was always extremely well informed and prepared. And if we're right and Joséphine has something to do with her… or if she is even Lady Eve herself, then we will not find anything right away." 

Arno turned sideways to her and his free hand caressed her thigh.  "I do not think that Joséphine herself is this Lady Eve. That somehow would be too… easy. Too… obvious. Do you understand what I mean?"

Adeláire actually did which caused her to nod in silence. She had not spent so much time with research regarding this lady as Arno, but studying Napoleon's notes had opened the door to a completely different world. She had studied the artifacts known to the French Brotherhood. Had dealt with the notes of Mentor Ezio Auditore. Even had permission to deal with the copies of the code pages of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad had been granted to her. Even though she has not had the opportunity to do so before. But unlike Arno, she had never seen, touched, or used an artifact before. She knew this strange level of reality only from books. And yet, she understood how complex and unobvious all this was.  It only seemed natural that this also applied to Lady Eve.

"Sometimes it all feels so surreal. So… unnatural.  As if it were madness, not just to begotten a family into the world and live a little life,” she muttered softly. 

Arno shifted away from her a little and she raised her head to meet his gaze as he asked, "Would that be what you wish for? Your own little family somewhere in the country and live a life far away from all the insane secrets?" 

Adeláire broke unpleasantly from his arm, straightened up and turned her back to him. Loosely, her arms embraced her knees and she stared silently into the darkness of the stable. Was it like that? Was this somewhere deep inside her a hidden, heartfelt desire? Was she as normal and like everyone else, despite all her Assassin training?

Arno gave her time to think and answer. The rustling of the hay indicated he was also raising and sitting next to her, patiently waiting.

"I don’t know. I love being an Assassin. Everything has felt so… right… since I started my training." She was silent again, playing absent-mindedly with a stalk of hay. "And yet there are also parts in me that want something completely different. A part that speaks out every time a situation seems hopeless." She paused, thinking for a moment whether she should really dare the following words. "Or… when… a beau crosses the path that could perhaps… be… more..."

A deep silence spread between them. And almost Arno’s voice seemed strange, as she was raised calmly and cautiously, "And then that was always the moment in which you took to your heels, right?"

Once again, Adeláire sensed exactly these damned two opposing poles inside herself. The one who scolded her for having revealed too much. The other, who wanted nothing more than to throw herself into the arms of the man at her side and to blank out all dangers. What remained was a mutely nodding Assassin, who was timidly waiting like a little girl to see just how that man would continue to react.

"You know that I will find you, right? No matter where you may flee..." He did not touch her. Only his voice cradled her like a blanket that matched her stature only too well. She turned to him and met a calm, dark look. She registered pain in his face and had the blissful desire to fathom where it came from. But instead of asking questions, she simply raised her hand and stroked the twitching muscle, the hard jaw line, over the pain in the temple.

"Arno... I..." 

Gently as a flapping of wings a finger slipped over her lips and he gently shook his head.  "Don’t…"

Smoothly, his hand moved to the back of her neck and pulled her gently towards him and into a tender kiss. Like flowing water, she changed her posture and position, slipping onto his lap and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Long, intense, the kiss played back and forth between them. They remained silent as Adeláire broke away from Arno and stroked a strand of dark hair from his forehead. Her fingertips played over his temple and thoughtfully examined his gaze. His hands rested quietly on her hip, waiting.

The decision was quiet, unobtrusive, and began by leaning toward him and with a light, playful kiss. Delicate but purposeful fingers unbuttoned his uniform and shoved it over broad shoulders. She did not spend much time with his shirt and pulled it over his head. Kissing and clinging to him, she urged him back into the hay, which he allowed to happen with too much complacency.

She sensed that he was willing to let the rest of his control go and rose above him. In the little light of the stable she looked at her Assassin brother. She felt a certain seriousness, which surged between them back and forth. The mocking and challenging of her first encounter this night was gone. It was almost as if both of them were making some kind of statement right now.

Another decision and she pushed her nightgown over her shoulders and made it a fabric cascade around her hips. She enjoyed his hands on her feminine curves as she leaned over him and explored his warm skin with caressing lips. Fingertips gently touched the outer scars of memory, knowing that the inner ones had left much deeper marks.

She clearly surprised him by sinking lower and lower with her caresses and finally directing their union on her own. In their physical gathering it seemed to be like on the other levels. Bit by bit, they discovered something new and explored each other better. Be it as an Assassin or as an intimate couple. Because as reluctant as Adeláire wanted to admit this, she suspected their coupledom was accurately defined by present activities.  Though, she knew currently that neither she, nor Arno, wanted to label whatever relationship they may be in; it was better to leave well alone and to simply enjoy the intimate moment.

They shared their mutual enjoyment much more tenaciously and slower than at the beginning of the night. It was almost as if their bodies enjoyed the game, but were not capable of swinging to final heights. But neither of them really bothered. And when it finally happened, it felt like a small, long-drawn fire that spilled like a lazy lava flow into the valley. So it was hardly surprising that it took them a long time to break away from each other. They could not risk falling asleep in the middle of the stable and being caught at dawn. Therefore, they parted before they left the cuddly box to each return to their own bed. Even though Adeláire was utterly incomprehensible about how she should climb the facade with such exhausted power.

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As discussed, after Joséphine's departure, they had let a night pass before starting with their investigations. Adeláire struggled to restrain her impatience. So close to finally pushing the mission forward, the 48-hour wait seemed like an eternity. Moreover, Dorian was right; each time she saw him, she vividly and intensely remembered their shared night. And he did not hesitate to react to her blushes with small, amused, smirking smiles. He knew he had achieved his goal and let her know that he knew it.

All the more it meant relief for Adeláire, when the second night had finally came, she quietly peeled out of bed like a proverbial shadow and exchanged her nightwear for pants, shirt and boots. Whether out of habit or because she had missed it painfully, she put on her blade. Since arriving in Malmaison she finally felt a bit more like herself.

Already going, she tied her hair together in the neck and began to merge with the shadows of the house. Determinedly, she approached Joséphine's rooms, listening for the regular breathing sounds of the other girls in her rooms along the hallway. There seemed to be no danger from them.

"Well, look who has managed to join us?” Verne mused in a soft, but clearly teasing tone.  

"Yes, yes, I also missed you… brother..." There it was again, the impulse to want to stick out her tongue. And as always, she keep herself under control. Unlike Verne, who pulled her into his arms and embraced her heartily.

"Oh, I admit, it's good to be able to just squeeze you again. This whole spectacle the last few weeks has been really nerve-wracking." Warm, gray eyes smiled down on her. "Are you alright, sister?"

Full of affection, she smiled up at him and nodded in silence, until a mischievous smile crossed her facial expressions.  "Shouldn’t you be in the arms of a certain little redhead?" 

Verne laughed softly and winked at her.  "I think she told us everything she knew. Which… was not much. But still needed a lot of scrutiny." A playful grin lit up Verne’s features before letting go of Adeláire and turning to the last newcomer who was swinging through one of the open windows.

"Ah, very good. Complete. Then we can start."

Arno brushed the dust from his trousers and stepped toward them both. Completely surprisingly, he indulged Adeláire a gentle kiss before turning to the room. He completely ignored the surprised lifting of eyebrows on the part of Verne and left it to Adeláire to overplay it somehow.

"Did you start without me?" 

Adeláire cleared her throat.  "I only arrived moments before you. Verne was first here."

Verne crossed his arms over his chest and studied his two Assassin colleagues intensely. He saved himself a comment or even an analysis of what had just been bestowed him.  "No, I've been waiting for you."

Arno took off his gloves, which he had slipped for the climbing tour up the front of the house and put them in his belt. Both had spared the uniform and, like Adeláire, were only in shirt, pants, boots and hidden blade on the way. Apparently, they did not expect difficulties or even arguments like she herself.

Arno started, "Okay, so let's start systematically. Adeláire is best at examining everything that is typical of women. She's most likely to notice if there's something unusual among the stuff. Alright?" 

She nodded silently and affirmatively at Arno's plans.

"Verne? Books?" 

Another silent nod.  "As always,” he said simply, before turning away from them with a last, frowning look and heading for the nearest bookshelf.

"I’ll deal with the desk. Maybe we'll find such a strange mechanism again." Arno's eyes sought Adeláire’s before he briefly touched her upper arm and, after a slight smile, turned away into the room. She sensed that this good team work had come from a myriad of assignments Arno and Verne had mastered together. And it gave her a comforting feeling of being integrated into this round. She still would never have dreamed that she would be out and about with the best, despite her close relationship with Verne and Francesco.

Determined, she straightened her shoulders and turned to Joséphine's bed. Her senses flooded over the frame and the canopy, looking for hiding spots in the headboard and the massive wooden pillars. Sleek and graceful, she finally sank to her knees and sent her senses under the bed, searching. Unsuccessful.

Even examining the two bedside cabinets next to the bed made no sense. Only the usual ladies' items. Not even a diary, as they had found in the Parisian townhouse. Meticulous and accurate to the last millimeter, Adeláire even felt the mattress in the hope that something might have been sewn in there. Also nothing.

Sighing quietly, she finally turned to the wardrobe and examined it thoroughly. Again using senses and fingertips to find anything inside walls or drawers.  The only thing she found was slippery reading.

"Justine and Juliette, from Marquis de Sade. So, Joséphine, not quite as innocent as everybody thinks,” she mused.

Verne stepped behind her and glanced over her shoulder.  “Found something?"

Adeláire shook her head and put the pursued writings back in their hiding place.  "Nothing that would help us. You?"

He sighed quietly in her back. "Neither. So far." A short, thoughtful silence. "Let's just hope that all this effort was not a complete waste of time."

"Not so pessimistic, you two. We just started our search. And who knows, maybe we will not even find it in her premises. Perhaps what we are looking for here is far too obvious. And if we consider how well Eve was prepared for us, I would have been very surprised if we had found something here on a silver platter."  Arno had risen from his desk during his speech and closed all the drawers. He rounded the expansive piece of furniture, which could almost be called a wooden monstrosity, and came over to them.  "Nothing in the books?"

Verne shook his head again.  "General reading as you probably find in any better household. Crébillon, Balzac, Mazères, Thierry. Nothing earth-shattering or even… unusual."

Adeláire chuckled softly.  "True, Justine and Juliette are really the two most noteworthy manuscripts then." 

Something shortly glinted in dark brown eyes and returned her smirk. 

Verne cleared his throat.  "All right, you two lovebirds. Let's end the search in this room for the moment and dedicate ourselves to the other two. And if there's still time left, we could try to figure out what's behind that ever so carefully locked door in the basement, isn’t that true, my dear Arno? "

So addressed, Dorian blinked briefly before giving Verne a thoughtful look. "True, Adeláire does not know of that yet." He turned to her. "Verne and I have already tried to find out something about the guard commanders assigned to us. He just said that the door had always been locked and only Joséphine and Gaston had a key. So I agree with Verne that we should urgently look around down there."

Adeláire nodded. "All right. Then maybe we should split up. I stay up here trying to find something in Genevieve and Constance's room. You go down and see if you can lock pick the door. That should not really be a big problem regarding your practice." With a gentle smirk, she winked at her two brothers and remembered, at least as far as Verne was concerned, so many doors that seemed to be unbreakable.

Verne nodded affirmatively.  "Good plan. You with your senses here, Arno you with yours down there. Optimum use of resources."

Adeláire caught Arno's scrutinizing look. As well as his frown. He did not have to utter it, than that she knew, what was going through his mind. A gentle smile drew her features softly.  "Do not worry. I’ll be fine. They're just girls' rooms."

She saw one of his hands clench into a fist before releasing it and rubbing his forehead.  "All right then. But still, take care of yourself."

Swift as a soft breeze she approached him and returned his greeting favor with a kiss similar to his own. With a wink, she turned to the door, only to freeze coldly in a shock-induced paralysis.

No sooner had a "merde" escaped her was several, consecutive, clicking sounds. Arno and Verne turned around, sensing at the same moment that the windows were closed by some automatic mechanism. Adeláire jerked again at the door, in vain. It stayed closed.

"Diable,” Verne cursed, diving toward the windows with Arno. But even these remained closed. Adeláire left the door and tried another window, as unsuccessfully as her brothers.

"What's going on here…?" Adeláire started as clouds of smoke began to fill the room from somewhere. Instinctively, she hid her mouth and nose in the crook of her arm and tried to clear the blurring in her eyes. It quickly became obvious that these were not normal smoke bombs. Her senses were already beginning to fog up and as if through thick wool she heard the cough and gasp of her Assassin brothers.

By the wafting of the smoke Arno suddenly appeared in front of her. He hid his mouth and nose in the same way as she did, but released it to grasp her neck. Short, hard and with a hint of desperation they shared a painful kiss. Even before Adeláire could respond to the feel of his hand on her chest, Arno had given her a strong push and sent her backward through bursting glass through one of the windows. Her piercingly scream tore the hitherto prevailing calm of the night and was suffocated as her back painfully crashed into one of the flower arrangements. Only the deeply practiced reflex managed to save her from worse and to find a hold on that very crate. Just long enough that her feet could find direction towards ground, so she could end her crash. Her shoulders protested noticeably and a nasty pain twitched through her left ankle as she hit the ground hard. Gasping, she sank down and urged herself (though inwardly cursing) to use the chance Arno had procured her to escape.

She felt the danger in her back, even before her watery eyes could clear again. Her outstretched blade was parried by a rapier and a rifle butt on her temple sent her unconscious with a thousand stars in front of her eyes. No doubt, they had been caught. And like beginners toddled in the trap. They could only hope and pray that Francesco and LaHache had caught even a hint of all this.

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