----------------------- 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.
----------------------------------------
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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