Madeline, aka Marquise de Merteuil, looked into her ornate mirror and said gaily, "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who´s the fairest of them all?" When the mirror suddenly darkened, she gasped. A voice rang out quite clearly, "Tis fair Nikita, who reigns above you now, Madame."
She flushed angrily. "This will not do!" She stomped into her boudoir where her ex-lover, Vicomte de Valmont, otherwise known as Operations, waited impatiently. "What is it, darling? You have the most appalling color in your cheeks," he said with disdain.
"My dear, I know I have dismissed you from my bed, but I have a bit of a game I would propose." Operations looked intrigued by Madeline´s opening words. He smiled lazily. "And what does this careless plot of yours entail, my love?"

"Well, you know how our little power games can be so…arousing." She slipped her hand inside Operations´ shirt, and his smile froze in place. "Painfully aware, my dear."

"My ex-husband, Chevalier Danceny, is planning to marry soon." She paused for full dramatic effect. Operations frowned. "Danceny? Is that Michael?"

"Why, yes, Operations, how clever your mind has grown in recent years," she said dryly, wondering what she had ever seen in such a man. Then she remembered. It was all about the games, the power games, the ones where they used and abused people, sometimes to their hearts´ content. It was actually better than sex. Passion had not fired its arrow between them in months. That was why Operations was now on the outside looking in. It was killing him. She liked that.

She snapped her fan shut abruptly. "He plans to marry a young and virtuous girl named Mlle. de Volanges. This girl, who calls herself Nikita, is fair of face and virgin still. I propose that you seduce her before her wedding day. How say you to this?"

He pretended to be offended. "Really, my love, what makes you think I would be even slightly interested in such a colorless pursuit?" But secretly, the thought of bedding the sweet young Nikita thrilled him. It would be difficult getting her away from the clutches of her fiancé, Michael, but he would win. He was certain of it. He always won. It had not yet lost its charm for him.

But Operations´ mind was busy with impure thoughts. He did not dream only of the seduction of Nikita…no, he too sought a thrilling adventure of his own. Madame de Tourvel, a beautiful and God-fearing married woman with many of Nikita´s own virtues still, could be Madeline´s twin in beauty, but where Madeline was evil, ambitious and avaricious, Maddy was a breath of fresh air as well as a burst of sunlight upon the dry tinder that was his heart.

When he mentioned his plan to seduce Mme. de Tourvel, Madeline licked her lips, not unlike a cat, such was her feline grace. She nodded to Operations. "I don´t believe even you can surmount that most deadly of obstacles, her religion. It serves her heart, and you would do well to remember that."

Valmont merely smiled knowingly. "The art of seduction is all, Madeline. I could have anyone I wish," he said, snapping his fingers.

"But that would never thrill me as much as one kiss from you."

She grinned quite lasciviously, remembering some of their better sessions. The one with the riding crop. She laughed. The one and only time she had introduced him to her horse. Operations had stunned the poor faithful companion by taking the bit into his own teeth. She rubbed his arm, staring meaningfully into Operations´ eyes. "I will grant you this, my dear, for old times´ sake. If you can bring me written proof of a sexual encounter with de Tourvel, I will grant you favor as well, one last night with me."

She hid a smile behind her fan. Operations took the bait, as she knew he would. He could never resist a challenge.

Madeline smiled to herself. She knew that Operations thought he could win over anyone, but he had never met Nikita. Fair she might be, but her heart was still pure, her motives still humane. She would never see the shadow of his axe before it fell upon her, and she would be undone. Unfit for her Danceny, her dark knight. A mysterious man with his own haunted past. She had never lost her lust to be in Michael´s arms again, but knowing he despised her, she reveled in the revenge she would take against him. She would ruin his fair Nikita, and she would win the game.

Then, too, there was Nikita´s doting uncle, a brutally handsome old man nicknamed Walter. He was said to be given to dressing in brightly colored rags and whirling like a dervish when the spirit took him. An eccentric, surely, but no obstacle again to a man like Valmont. It was rumored that he had a young apprentice, a boy named Birkoff, who dreamed of making great magic, but that was never proven to her satisfaction. She was sure he, too, lusted for Nikita, perhaps she would promise the boy a taste after Valmont had his way with her.

Aye, there was much to be said for corruption so early in the morning. It made her blood race and her passion rise.

M. de Volanges, aka Walter, smiled at his lovely niece, Nikita. "Happy, sweetheart?" he asked. She put her hands in her lap, relinquishing the sewing she had been struggling to finish. She frowned and sighed. "You know I am, Uncle. But I fear I shall never be able to make my stitches true and straight, like Aunt Belinda." Walter´s face creased for a moment in pained remembrance of his late wife. "Sewing can always be fixed, doucette. You must concentrate on what´s most important. You must be true to your heart, and it will never guide you wrong."

Nikita leapt up and flung her arms around her outlandish uncle, who, for all his eccentricities, loved her so. "You have always surrounded me with love, and I am secure in my heart because of this. I know that my heart will be safe in Danceny´s hands."

He glanced at her beaming face briefly. "You have no worries, then? He is a mystery, Chevalier Danceny."

"Aye, Uncle, this is true. Still, he has never given me cause to doubt his feelings."

"Then he has told you of his love for you?"

She momentarily paused, the tiniest of frowns marring her face. "Not in so many words, no."

"You must be cautious, doucette. A man without feelings would destroy you."

She regained her sunny disposition. "Then be reassured, Uncle. For though he has not spoken to me of love, he has feelings for me, of this, I am sure."

"And he has not tried to breach your chastity?" Nikita looked discomfited. "Uncle!" she blushed deeply. Walter looked both pleased and disappointed, muttering to himself about men who hid their feelings too well.

Just then, Birkoff, the would-be wizard, entered the room. He bowed to Nikita, who dipped a slight curtsy in deference to him. "Birkoff…" she called out in her musical voice. "Have you any new magicks for me?" He looked down, embarrassed by Nikita´s attention. He cared for her, would gladly lay down his life for her, but he knew she viewed him only as a little brother. Still, he would not hold her responsible for being unable to see anyone but Danceny. It was clear to everyone that Nikita loved Danceny desperately. The only question that remained was whether Danceny shared Nikita´s feelings, or merely wanted to make a good match.

Michael, known as Chevalier Danceny, drew women´s attention everywhere he went. Yet he only had eyes for the fair Nikita. Madeline could not quite accept that Michael no longer cared, but worse yet, she could not bear being replaced by someone far younger and indeed far more innocent. Madeline fanned herself furiously. She had left innocence behind many years ago. She had tried to teach Michael her ways, to see that the thrill was in the hunting, not the capture, but he had somehow resisted her, until they finally parted.

She turned her attentions to the matter at hand. Valmont was going to call upon Nikita this afternoon, while her sweet but eccentric uncle was otherwise engaged. She would make sure that he did not return until it was far too late to reclaim Nikita´s innocence. Just the thought of spoiling someone so fair and so untouched made her want to sigh with passionate release.

Michael knocked at Nikita´s door, unaware that M. de Volanges was not inside to receive him. He was always careful to do nothing to besmirch his beloved´s reputation, for among their circle, reputation was everything. Honor was paramount, people had died for honor, and Michael understood this particularly well, having been married to the evil Marquise for so long.

When Nikita answered the door, her entire face lit up to see her fiancé. "Michael!" she cried with genuine delight. He could not resist a small half-smile at her eagerness. She was so naive, so childlike, she needed to be protected from the vagaries of the real world. It was his utmost desire to do so, from the moment he laid eyes upon her, and he knew it would continue to be so, for as long as he drew breath.

She bowed deeply, as was custom. He kissed the hand she extended, and Nikita gasped as a tiny shock went through her at his gentlest touch. She stepped back to allow him entrance, and he walked slowly forward. When he realized that she was alone, however, he moved back to the doorway, where they could easily be observed by passersby in the street. "Ma chere, you cannot entertain while your uncle is not present. Remember?" he gently coaxed her. She blushed furiously. "Of course, of course, I am so glad to see you, I forgot." She lowered her eyes, seemingly in deference to Michael´s wishes, but Danceny would have been greatly alarmed to see that she was regarding him most studiously from beneath those artlessly blackened eyelashes.

Nikita thought, I shall never make a proper wife, if a proper wife must sew and cook and not swear and not react except with careful praise. As for Michael, he thought that Nikita was indeed a prize amongst the most marriageable females, and he was honestly fond of her, but he despaired at her lack of imagination and obsequious attitude towards him. He supposed it came from her upbringing, never knowing her real mother, taken in by an eccentric but aristocratic uncle, raised in a home with only other idiosyncratic people for company.

He bid her adieu, carefully withdrew with a swirl of his black cape and left. Nikita stared after him for long seconds, thinking him quite the most mysterious man she had ever met. She fancied herself in love with Michael, but she did not really know him. She hoped that he loved her as well, but sometimes, like now, she felt awkward and unmanageable and strangely unattractive. She sighed, pondering a return to sewing. Before she could sit down again, however, there was another knock at the door. When she reopened the door, the sight that greeted her took her by complete surprise. It was Vicomte de Valmont.

Valmont stood in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other clutching his leather gloves. "Well, tis the fair Mlle. de Volanges, we meet at last." She blinked, then remembered to curtsy. "Sir, I am afraid that you have come at a most inopportune time. My uncle is away, and I am not allowed to receive visitors."

Valmont merely laughed. "Rules were made to be broken, Mademoiselle. How else may we offend society at large, and our own company en famille? But I digress…my sensitivities are positively inflamed at the thought of a youngling such as you being left to fend for herself…" He then proceeded to rake his gaze over her lithe form with a rudeness that made her face flame. "S-sir? You should not say such things," she stammered out.

"Oh, but I must." He looked at Nikita as if she were a chicken succulent and ready for the tasting, and she knew she must bolt from the room before long, or she would disgrace herself by becoming ill. He reached out with one hand and traced the end of her sleeve, pausing to touch the velvety skin underneath. She felt her skin crawl, and she knew she must do something or die trying. Women were not supposed to object to a man´s attentions, particularly when that man was a highly ranked aristocrat like Valmont. But if it gave him license to act as he did with her, she would empower herself, even if it meant cloaking herself in the manners of the ton.

She jerked away from his hand, as if burned. He frowned at her. "What´s wrong, girl?" She said, "Oh, sir, I am most flattered, really, but you have just uncovered the place where the rats bit me when I was but a babe in arms."

"Rats?" he said with a sneer. "How unfortunate."

"Aye, how I survived the plague that followed is still a mystery to us all."

"Plague? I have heard of no plague in recent years."

She covered her mouth with one finger and nodded. "WE no longer speak of it in this house either, M´sieur. It afflicted me in ways most curious. Tis why Master Birkoff works his magicks upon me, hoping to find a cure."

"You are…diseased?"

She nodded almost enthusiastically. "Aye, tis true enough, kind M´sieur. But here, let me get you something to drink. You must thirst."

He looked appalled at the thought of drinking anything in the house, and Nikita hid a smile behind her hand. "Danceny, the Chevalier, he does not mind that you suffer from this plague?"

"Oh, no, M´sieur. He understands perfectly that I can never lie with him in the normal way of men with women." Now Valmont´s mouth curled up in a manner so distasteful, it was comical. "And what would an innocent such as you know of this act?"

Nikita let her eyes grow wide and round as could be, and she looked deeply into Valmont´s eyes. "Oh, I have lessons everyday," she said quite brightly, and Valmont almost choked. "Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle?"

"Aye, M. Danceny comes to me everyday and teaches me something new."

He nodded slowly. "Danceny comes here and teaches you the ways of love?"

Her eyes seemed to sparkle and shine curiously, but Valmont was now completely under her spell. "That´s right. I think he´s quite wonderful."

"I can imagine you do," he muttered to himself, wondering why an aristocrat like Danceny would bother himself with an obviously soiled, not to mention deranged young girl, who apparently deluded herself into believing that Danceny would marry her one day.

"Well, Mademoiselle, I must be off," he said suddenly, deciding that this was a flirtation better left to another day, or perhaps another lifetime altogether. He did not know how he would explain his failure to Madeline, but he would think of something. There was still his conquering of Mme. de Tourvel to consider, and he had to confess, she was far more interesting prey than this half-fledged bon-bon.

When Madeline heard of the outcome of Valmont´s visit to Nikita´s house, she laughed out loud. True, it was not the result she had desired, but it involved both Valmont and Danceny in a potential scandal, and she could not be happier. What an odd girl this Nikita must be, she thought, thinking to fend off Valmont by ruining her own reputation. Did she not know how important reputation and honor was held among the ton? And more than that, how dearly Danceny clung to chivalry and honor himself? She had inadvertently become the weapon of Danceny´s undoing, all by herself, and Madeline could claim complete deniability. It was Fate.

"A spotty little plague-ridden girl!" Michael´s voice rose in anger, something that up until now was unheard of. "Do you know what a laughingstock you have made of this house and any house connected to it?" Nikita cringed in the corner, listening to Michael´s angry words and wondering why her beloved uncle did not defend her.

Walter was at a loss to explain what had happened. He had been out of the house only a few hours, and in that time, Nikita had entertained not one, but two different male guests, one of whom was infamous for seduction and debauchery. He trusted his sweet Nikita to hold onto her virtue, but he did not understand the lies she had told Valmont.

Nikita longed to scream at her uncle and Danceny. Do you think it would have been more acceptable to allow myself to be raped? Do you doubt that this would have been the result, either of you? Yet still I am ruined. I am rendered unfit for proper company, I will never be Michael´s wife. It was this last that caused her to cry. She sat in the corner, hoping no one would notice, and suddenly the room grew completely still.

Michael and Walter turned as one and faced Nikita. Walter spoke first, his heart going out to the girl he had raised as his own daughter. "Nikita…doucette…" He longed to take her in his arms and hold her, but he was certain that Danceny would find fault with that as well.

Michael felt a curious shift in his attitude towards Nikita. He was perplexed. This clever weaving of lies was unlike the Nikita he knew. She had actually had the presence of mind to avoid certain rape by targeting the Vicomte´s weaknesses and playing him like a cello. It was an act worthy of a more mature woman, a more experienced woman, and yet it was at odds with the Nikita he had seen so far. He was intrigued despite himself.

He sighed. "Nikita…" "Yes, Michael?" she sniffled prettily. he almost laughed out loud. The wench was trying to play him as well, but he was more than up to her game. "You have lost your good reputation…you have caused me to lose mine as well. You have indirectly accused me of debauching you under the nose of your uncle. I am sure he does not expect me to honor our betrothal." Both Nikita and Walter held their collective breath.

"But I will…for I am nothing if not honorable." He looked down at his hands and smiled darkly. "We will not speak of this again, Nikita, but I expect you to learn from your mistake." When he left, Nikita breathed a sigh of relief. She was deeply sorry for what happened, but she would do it again, in a heartbeat.

When Valmont first saw Maddy, Madeline´s twin in appearance only, he knew instinctively that this was the one conquest he must have. He did not know why he was so insistent in pursuing one so virtuous, she must necessarily shun him and his amorous advances, but he could not seem to help himself. He supposed that part of Maddy´s charm lay in her resemblance of Madeline. She was like Madeline in every way, but one. She was good. She was the epitome of the good, moral woman. Untouched in ways that made his heart gladden. She had had never known true passion. He would teach her this.

Maddy turned, feeling the Vicomte´s eyes upon her yet again. He persisted in these advances, despite her quite public shunning of him at nearly every social event. He flirted, he begged her to meet him, he bade her go to secret places, places called rendezvous.

She tried to resist, truly, but she was no match for someone who had refined seduction into an art form.

He kissed her hand, and his lips automatically traveled the rest of the length of her arm. She pulled away, thinking it unseemly that he accost her so during their dance in a public place. He had little to lose, and much to gain, from playing his power games in public. Maddy laughed softly. He had a certain mature charm.

Valmont felt his heart softening towards Maddy, and he was deeply worried. He was not a man given to flights of fancy. In fact, if the truth were known, he had no imagination at all, except when it came to plotting and scheming and manipulating people. But he was drawn to Maddy, in ways that did not bear thinking about, and he feared that he might actually lose his heart for the first time.

He continued to romance Maddy, over the coming months, and they grew more and more familiar. He bought a cottage on the outskirts of town and invited her to join him there one day. When he arrived, he was amazed to see that she had in fact come.

"Maddy!" he said with a faint tinge of what he now recognized as affection. He was not a kind man, nor was he affectionate, but he found himself wanting to lavish gifts upon her. She would not accept these, giving only herself, as best she could. They embraced, and they lay among the scattered rose petals he had strewn on the cottage floor. He had thought the gesture sickeningly sentimental, but Maddy loved it. His Maddy loved it, and he realized, with an abject thud, he loved her.

Madeline knew. Valmont didn´t know how she knew, but she did. She found out that he had seduced Maddy, not once, but several times, and despite his newfound desire to keep Maddy´s confidence and keep their affair secret, Madeline revealed the truth. "Ha!" she laughed in Maddy´s face. "Twas a bet between the two of us, nothing more. Do you think he cares for you? A woman so easily manipulated? A woman who would play love games in the afternoon with someone who is not her husband? You are a fool!"

Madeline derided the other woman until Valmont could stand no more. He rushed to his Maddy´s side, trying to comfort her, but she shrugged off his embrace. "Please do not touch me! You have made me an adulteress, but I cannot claim that I was taken against my will, for I was not. I was only in love." Valmont´s eyes filled with tears and he knew he was witnessing the end of their affair.

"But I love you," he whispered to her, certain the words must have come from someone else.

"I know." She shook her head sadly and cried. Madeline merely looked on avidly, as if she were watching the ballet. "Well done!" she said to Valmont, as if Maddy were not there.

Valmont would have turned on Madeline then, but Maddy stayed him with one touch of her hand on his arm. "Don´t defend me to her. She is nothing. As am I. We are cut from the same cloth. We are sisters under the skin as well as above. I am undone, and there is nothing you can do, ma chere."

Valmont would have kissed her then, proclaimed his love and proposed marriage if she would but leave her husband…but Maddy ceased to be in that moment. She had failed to obey her most intensely held personal beliefs, she had loved a madman and a seducer, and she would accept the responsibility for doing such an insane act. She turned and left the little cottage, and no one ever saw her again. Some said that she went off to Spain to give birth to Valmont´s child, some said that she merely wasted away to a breath of wind and died of loneliness and grief.

Valmont lost his will to live. No longer the charming raconteur of the ton, he was a non-entity, a broken man who lived on the edge of everyone else´s dreams. He thought often of poor Nikita, who had yet to marry Michael, and he wished that he could do something to undo the wrong he had inflicted in his lifetime.

The Topaz Crystal Garden

Michael knocked on Nikita´s door, ignoring the taunts and evil cries of the lower class individuals outside in the streets. He didn´t know how she could stand the pain of living in this prison, day after hopeless day. Nikita came to the door, her knitting askew in her hands, her hands covered with tiny pinpricks of blood. "Nikita," he said kindly, "I do not think you are meant to knit."

She glanced down at her hands and thought, you are right, I am unworthy to be your wife, no matter how much I try. She sighed, her eyes filling easily with tears. She had finally realized that she valued Michael´s opinion more than her own, and if he thought her foolish or inept or willful, she believed him, for she would take his word over her own sight.

He saw her tears and wondered how he had come to make her cry yet again. "Kita, ma pauvre…" he leaned over her and patted her shoulder. She sniffled against his chest, inhaling his fragrance until she was quite overcome with feeling. "Michael, I have heard the most appalling story…it is too, too sad…"

He drew her into his arms and held her. He had seen her uncle do this many times, and it seemed to comfort her. "What is wrong?" "I heard that the woman M. de Valmont had the affair with died. From a broken heart."

"Kita, ma chere, no one dies from a broken heart. It simply isn´t done." She glanced at him, wondering why this filled her own heart with misgivings. "Michael? What do you mean?"

"I mean, how can someone care so much? More than his own life? It sounds absurd."

Now she knew she was deeply perturbed. Her uncle had warned her against falling in love with a man who had no feelings. Was Michael truly incapable of loving her?

"Michael, do you love me?"

He smiled patiently at her, as one would indulge a child. "I am very fond of you, chere, you know that."

"Yes, I know, but one is fond of dogs or celery or lemonade. I am not any of those things. I am a person. I need more than fondness."

He frowned deeply. "Nikita, you have been acting strangely ever since Valmont came here. Did you lie to me about what happened? Did he touch you?"

"No! He never did, but why would you care? You do not want me for yourself!" She was surprised at her own vehemence, but she abruptly realized that she meant what she said.

"How do you mean?"

"You never touch me, you don´t act like you want to be with me, in fact, I do not think that you do!" She stalked away from him, holding her skirts up briefly to move more freely.

When she was sitting by the fire, soothing her aching hands from their myriad of cuts, she spoke again. "I see that I am an object, nothing more." Her voice was soft, but it cut Michael deeply.

Danceny came up silently behind Nikita. "I have never lied to you, Nikita. I have never claimed to be in love with you."

Her eyes shining with tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at any moment, she looked up at him, and he didn´t know what to say. "I know that now…" she said, choking.

"I admire your spirit, Kita." She closed her eyes, and the tears rolled silently down her face. "I don´t want admiration," she whispered.

"You´re a girl, how do you know what you want?" He said half-mockingly. "How can you be so cruel?" she wept. She hid her face against her hands and cried.

"There will be no marriage." Michael and Nikita both turned to see who had spoken. It was her uncle. "I could no more give her to you than fly," Walter said with distinct warning in his tone.

"Her reputation is gone, old man. She cannot marry anyone of consequence. She is lucky I am still interested."

"Lucky?" Walter snorted. "Birkoff, fetch me your gun. I fancy a bit of target practice."

"Don´t worry, I´m going. The threats are unnecessary." Michael spoke softly, but his tone was unmistakable. He knew who was more capable, and he would not hesitate to use force if need be.

"Please go, both of you," Nikita begged. "I cannot bear it." Walter stood by Nikita, as if guarding her against further pain, and Michael backed up, retreating to the doorway.

Michael was not a demonstrative man, but he had found himself holding Nikita with an ease he was not born to. It bothered him, this feeling, but he brushed it away, convinced that proper gentlemen never loved their wives, and passion was reserved only for mistresses.

He bought some flowers the following day, intending to give them to Nikita, but he found someone visiting her instead. He carefully hid the bouquet behind his back, his cape covering them more than adequately.

When he entered the parlor, he saw that Nikita was laughing at someone´s wit. Why, it was Valmont. The bastard had the nerve to come back and try his hand again at seducing his fiancee? He would kill him. Slowly. Piece by piece.

Michael smiled, and it was not a pretty sight. Nikita saw him and gasped. Valmont saw her reaction and turned. "It´s not what you think, Danceny."

"How would you know what I think?" Michael ground out evenly.

Nikita rummaged in her pelisse, finding the present that Valmont had given her. "Michael, look!" He knocked the filigreed locket out of her hand. Nikita flinched. Valmont stood and sadly stated, "I know how you must feel, Danceny, because I have been where you are. Years ago. When I first realized that I loved Madeline, and she laughed in my face."

Michael stared blankly at Valmont. He wanted to thrash the man within an inch of his life, but for some reason, he sensed that he was telling the truth. "Then it happened to me again. When I met Maddy. I destroyed something beautiful, and yet she loved me, she kept on loving me until I could no longer resist. She made me human, where I had been only a monster before."

"Why are you here, Valmont?" Michael said huskily, suddenly caught by the picture of Nikita cowering away from him. He reached out to her, but she shook her head.

"I wanted to let M. de Volanges know that I had not in fact raped or tortured his niece. I wanted you to know that as well. As to why, I do not know. I know only that when Maddy died, something in me died, too. I didn´t want to see anyone else make the same mistake."

He glanced meaningfully at Michael. Michael shifted uneasily beneath the older man´s gaze. "I should call you out."

"A duel? You could do that." Valmont shrugged. "But I will not fight you."

"Why? Honor must be satisfied." Michael frowned.

"Honor has already been satisfied, Michael. Nikita knows that I would take back every word and careless gesture, if I could." Nikita nodded imperceptibly, mirroring Valmont´s movement.

She picked up the locket and examined its inside. "Look, Michael, he gave me this locket. There is a picture inside."

"Of Valmont, I have no doubt." Michael sneered.

"No, of Maddy. He wanted me to know that their story ended badly, but that mine did not have to do the same."

He looked sharply at Nikita. "What do you mean? Has he made you a proposition?"

"Michael, if I were in your position, I might very well think the same. But no…you would do well to consider how well we treat our mistresses, giving them every scrap of our passion and our commitment, while treating our wives as if they were undeserving and indifferent to caring."

Michael considered this for long moments. "Then you wish to marry Nikita?"

The older man laughed. "If she would have me, I would gladly sacrifice myself, but no, again…she does not want me. For some reason, unknown to both of us, she wants you."

Michael looked surprised. And yet…he felt something crumbling inside, like a carefully erected wall had come down. "I thought you no longer wished to marry." He closed his eyes.

Nikita stood up and walked over to Michael. "You said that, not I. You told me that I no longer had a choice." He opened his eyes again, their depths unreadable. "So I did."

"You said you did not want me."

"No, I said that no one of consequence would want you." He sighed, his hands raking his hair back in an unconsciously self-effacing gesture. Nikita winced. "And I am not anyone of consequence," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Valmont quietly watched the couple with sad but knowing eyes. He bowed to Nikita and left.

"Then you said that you did not love me." Nikita continued in a low, pained voice.

"So I did," Michael repeated, seemingly mesmerized by looking into Nikita´s eyes. She looked away, and he brought her face back to his, holding it gently with his fingers. He caressed her face. "Did you believe me?"

She nodded without speaking. "Yes," she whispered, "I believed you, and I had no one and nothing left in my life."

Michael leaned his forehead against Nikita´s and closed his eyes. She closed her own eyes, unsure of what to anticipate. "Am I still a stalk of celery, Michael?"

He started at that. "No, never celery, cherie. More like strawberry shortcake, all pink and yellow and white…"

"Are you saying I´m sweet but insubstantial?" She frowned.

Michael sighed. "I try to compliment you, and I am attacked. Please, Nikita, you must enlighten me as to what I must do to win you."

"Perhaps I do not wish to be a prize that someone wins."

"Tis not what I meant. You twist what I say, and I am unable to explain."

"Tis what you did to me," she said quietly. "You were not kind or humane, and I think you know it well now. I think perhaps it even bothers you now."

"It more than bothers me, Kita. I am at a loss to explain why I behaved so."

"If I asked you now, do you love me, Michael, what would your answer be?"

Nikita felt Michael´s breath on her mouth, and she could not speak. He nudged her lips apart and kissed her, gently at first, then more urgently. "Is this what you want, Kita?"

"Yes, more than anything."

"Then my answer is yes."

She gasped as he kissed her again, the strength of his feelings taking her by surprise. He rubbed her mouth with his, back and forth, and she thought she would swoon. He kissed her ear, and then he whispered, "Will you marry me, Kita?"

He did not wait for an answer, he continued to press tiny kisses to her face, as if he could not stop touching her, now that he had started. She grasped his hands, as they framed her face, and pulled him away. He stared at her abjectly. "What?"

"You still want to marry me? Me, the object of derision and humiliation? The laughingstock?" She swallowed her pain at recalling his hateful words.

He knew then the damage he had done that day, and he knew, just as Valmont had known, that his punishment was to be left without the one he loved. The one he had just realized that he loved. He kissed her one last time, and he looked at her as if he were memorizing her features. "Maybe one day, you´ll put my picture in that locket, Kita. To remember me by?" He looked so sad, she could not bear it.

She kissed him fervently. "I am not experienced, Michael, I do not know what to do to keep you with me, but I will learn. Please, please help me."

He kissed her, lingeringly, loving the taste of her mouth on his. "You have something far better than experience, Kita. Innocence and humanity. Things I no longer have."

"I will teach you if you will teach me," she offered, wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"Will you promise to marry me?" he asked, almost afraid that she would still reject him out of hand.

"I will."

"Did I say that no one dies from a broken heart?"

"Yes, you did."

"I was wrong," he said, knowing that if she ever left him, he would not want to live any longer.

He kissed her mouth, gently playing with her lower lip until she sighed. He pressed her close to him, and she could feel his hardened body against her softness.

"Are you going to keep me in suspense forever? Or are you going to tell me that you love me most desperately, like I love you?"

"Is that how you feel, Kita?"

She nodded.

He smiled against her mouth, his lips clinging and tickling all at once. "Then I love you most desperately, Kita."

"Are we going to do anything about that?"

"I´m going to further your education right now," he said, his mouth sliding down to the top of her breast.

Valmont devoted the rest of his life to making recompense for past mistakes and grievances. Madeline broke her mirror.

THE END