Milo...Reunion

       By Pattie Lawler

 

Very little was said during the handover. The secretary looked momentarily overcome upon opening the trunk, but recovered enough to choke out his thanks. Milo smiled, extending his hand, but was pulled into a fervent hug before he could react. The secretary then held him at arm’s length and reiterated that he had done a great service for France that would never be forgotten. Milo was again forced to decline payment, saying that sight of the sword was recompense enough, before he thanked the government for their help with recovering Albany.

            “Mademoiselle Wendel is in Reims with du Montefort,” the secretary informed him upon their meeting. “Seņor Jimenez was most anxious to hand her over.”

            Milo expressed his desire to see Albany, and the secretary took the hint. “There is a plane at de Gaulle at your disposal, Mr. Scarlet. God speed.”

            With a parting grin, Milo got in his car and started for Reims, his mind’s eye full of a joyful reunion.

 

            And it was all that and more.

 

            When Milo parked, du Montefort was there to open the car door. Albany, he was told, was wrapped in a blanket, seated near a heater in the train station, waiting for him.

            “Raul is scared,” the older man added. “He’s in serious trouble.”

            “You spoke to Lawrence.”

            “Yes, and we have agreed to keep each other posted.”

            They ran up the stairs and past the gathered police.

            “Your Miss Wendel is fine,” du Montefort hurried on. “Contact me when you’ve had a chance to recover.”

            Milo paused upon the threshold, and his companion pointed to Albany, who was rising, her face alight.

            Racing forward, Milo met her in an embrace that lifted her off her feet.

            “Albany, thank God!” He pressed kisses to anything his lips could reach, and he felt her kisses in reply.

            “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she panted, her hands frantically traveling over his shoulders and back.

            “Did he hurt you?”

            “No. No, he did nothing, I swear.”

            Milo let her slip down until she was standing on her own. “You’ll tell me later. But now, do you want to go home? Do you feel well enough to travel? I can get us a hotel, if you’d rather. I’ll do anything you want.”

            “Hotel, please. I’m desperate to shower and have a million questions.”

            “Hotel it is, and I promise to answer them all.” He looked up, found du Montefort and summoned him with a jerk of his head. In less than a minute, he was helping Albany into the back seat of the car.

            “I’ll explain later,” he murmured to her puzzled expression. “Indulge me and lay down, would you?”

            Albany did as requested while Milo expounded to his hovering companion just how ill she felt. du Montefort was only too happy to direct him to the best hotel in town and promised to alert the owner to their impending arrival. Milo thanked him and followed the police car that du Montefort sent as escort.

            “I’ve hidden a very delicate secret under my coat,” Milo explained as they drove.

            “Ah,” Albany breathed. “What is it?”

            “How much have you gleaned from Raul?”

            “He believes you were to recover Joan of Arc’s sword.”

            “Which I did, in exchange for a letter from one of her companions, in which he admits his undying love for her.”

            “Ah,” Albany repeated. “And the coat?”

            “Is hiding her banner. My payment for this little fiasco.”

            “You’re stealing?”

            Milo laughed. “I’m taking what no one guessed exists. It was reputed to have burned during the Revolution. I was convinced that it had been hidden with the sword. And I was right.”

            “What are you planning on doing with it?”

            “Conservation first and foremost. The poor thing needs a bath. After that, I’ll add it to my collection.”

            “You know I find all this hard to swallow.”

            “And who could blame you?”

            “Are all your acquisitions this...involved?”

            “My acquisitions are a horse of a different color. I was hired for this job, which is why I’m only too happy to wash my hands of it all and move on.”

            “So, you saw her sword?”

            “In the flesh.”

            “Was it awesome?”

            “I was happier to see you.”

He was rewarded for this confession by a cold hand on his cheek. He quickly twisted, kissing her fingertips before returning his gaze to the car ahead of them.

            “I didn’t have a chance to thank you for last night.”

            Milo shook his head in wonder. Was it only last night that they were together? “Thank me?”

            “Yes. You made me feel...very, very special. Thank you.”

            She’s being careful, was his immediate thought. It wasn’t a speech pattern she would have chosen, but to say that she felt beloved would have seemed pushy and assuming. His impression of her was that she wasn’t the sort to try and trap a man, but they were virtually strangers.

            “Albany?”

            “Hmm?”

            “Will you do something for me?”

            “If I can.”

            “I once told you that the truth mattered more to me than anything else.”

            “I remember.”

            “No recriminations, no regrets, only honesty.”

            “Okay.”

            “What were you going to say?”

            There was a momentary pause, and he almost held his breath.

            “I was going to say that...that you made me feel precious. I felt like you were worshiping me with your body.”

            Milo flashed her a smile. “When you said I was beautiful, I thought my heart stopped.” Her laugh was clearly a release of tension, and he nodded.  “Seriously. I was floored.”

            “Well,” she brushed his cheek again and her hand felt warmer. “I meant it. Top to sexy bottom, you’re pretty perfect, Milo Scarlet.”

            “You’re the only one who thinks so.”

He heard her whispered, “Good,” as she lay down again.

<0> 

In the palatial room behind him, he could hear Albany running the water. He locked the door and pushed the ‘Do Not Disturb’ button. Following a message from Joe, saying their luggage would be there in the morning, he told the front desk they would call for it, and they were not to be disturbed on any account.

“I don’t care if the building’s on fire,” were his parting words to the fawning manager. He planned to keep Albany busy until one or both of them cried uncle, and nothing was going to stop him.

Or so he thought.

He found her in a shower stall, big enough for four. Steam billowed around her as she hung on the tubular railing. She looked exhausted. Exhausted enough that Milo’s heart ached for her. He mentally changed his plans.

            Stripping, he joined her and ordered her to wash as he poured shampoo into his hand and smeared it across her head. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner you’ll be horizontal.”

            She rallied enough to smile up at him. “Why? What did you have in mind?”

            “Anything I had in mind can wait.”

            “And what about me? I had plans too, ya know.”

            Milo smiled, his fingers massaging her scalp. “You’re sicker than you think, Albany, and tired. It’s been a really long forty eight hours for you.”

            “Raul let me sleep. A lot.”

            “Did you meet him?”

            She shook her head while soaping a wash cloth. “Have you?”

            “Nope. He could have been the hotel manager for all I know.”

            “I wanna know all about your job,” she said around a yawn.

            “And I promise to tell you all, but between the jet lag, your cold, and your first ever kidnapping—”

            “Yes, yes,” she said and began scrubbing herself. 

<0>  

            “One of the first things you have to understand about the business of acquisitions is that it’s driven by rumor.”

            Albany nodded from her place across his chest.

            “About three years ago, a rumor resurfaced about Joan of Arc’s sword.”

            “So long ago?”

            “Sure. Some acquisitions take years.”

            “How many are you working on, right now?”

            “Long term investments?” He paused, considering. “I probably have four irons in the fire at the moment.”

            “In addition to things like flying Japanese swords.”

            “Exactly.”

            “So getting back to three years ago…”

            “The rumors started again, only this time they were slightly different. This time there was a name firmly attached whereas before names had come and gone.”

            “The name was important? What was it?”

            “Jean de Novelemport, a.k.a. Jean de Metz. When Joan first appeared before the future king of France, Jean was one of the men sent as her escort. He swore, during her trial, that he never had carnal thoughts about her, but on his bachelor deathbed, he recanted. Big time. In fact, he confessed his undying love in the strongest possible language. We know a copy of the letter was sent to Joan’s family, and at some point, the decision to grant the de Novelemport family custody of Joan’s few personal effects was made.”

            “So the rumors were pointing at the family? So what? It can’t have been the first time.”

            “So,” Milo went on, “Robert de Novelemport, Jean’s descendant, for personal reasons, wants the letter. Amidst the wildfire of rumors, he contacts the PM’s secretary and offers, in trade, Joan’s sword. If the government can produce the letter, he’ll give them the sword.”

            “Enter Milo Scarlet.”

            “Not quite yet. You see, there was another item left by Joan. A ring.”

            Albany groaned, rubbing her face against his chest. “So?”

            “So the owner of the ring wanted it acknowledged as the real deal.”

            “You lost me.”

            “During her trial,” Milo soothed, “Joan described the ring, only it was different than the ring that is believed to be hers.”

            “She would have known what her own ring looked like.”

            “Hence the dispute.”

            “Lemme guess, the guy with the ring has the letter?”

            Milo smiled, hugging her. “And he’s willing to part with the letter for one of his own. The PM gets a letter of authenticity from the curator at the Louvre and places a call to Joe.”

            “Enter Milo Scarlet.”

            “Correct. My first job is to make sure there’s a plausible reason as to why the sword suddenly appears after all this time. So I drive a car into a well known landmark, plant a sword in the rubble and start a few rumors of my own.”

            “How long have you had the letter?”

            “Long enough to fly to New York where an artist I work with makes several copies.”

            “For your collection?”

            “Mine and others. It’s a rarie, Albany, and worth the effort.”

            “You’ll have to show me some day.”

            “With pleasure.”

            “Then what happened?”

            “Well, while waiting for the copies, I began examining a very interesting wakizashi I recently acquired.”

            Albany laughed, turning her face up to look at him. “And wound up at the opera.”

            “It was a bit of a whirlwind,” he agreed, nodding. “But I’m very happy now that the dust has settled.”

            “Has it?”

            “Hasn’t it?”

            “What about the man who’s wife was kidnapped?”

            “Raul was grasping at straws. When he got a chance to examine the sword he would have seen it was Roman and known he’d been duped.”

            “But the man thought he had Joan’s sword.”

            Milo shrugged. “He knew he had something worth money. He was paid for his trouble.”

            “And me?”

            “Raul was correct in that I was in possession of the letter and that I was to collect the sword. He wanted them both, but didn’t stop to think.”

            “About?”

            “Well, first of all, about me being hired and not in the game. There’s a level of edginess that comes with a difficult acquisition, and he should have noticed it was missing. Once he did notice, however, that’s when he grabbed you. He needed to get me angry enough to make a mistake.”

            “And did you?”

            “Yes. I flew to New York to see you in an eye patch. What’s with that?”

             “It’s a costuming thing, just go with it.” She waved it away and returned him to the topic. “But your story is out of order. He didn’t grab me until after New York.”

            “I think it was when I left that he realized something was up. He just waited for a chance and you have to appreciate, it was only forty-eight hours ago...it just feels like a week.”

            “Okay, and what happened that made you come running back to France, leaving me hanging?”

            “Mr. de Novelemport sufferezd a stroke. Everyone was frantic that he was going to die and the sword would never be found.”

            “And you couldn’t tell me...why?”

            “We were on a security lockdown. I told you I sent Fanny home, and that’s an exaggeration. The French government more or less kidnapped me so they could put their hands on me at a second’s notice.”

            “But why?”

            Milo shrugged. “Why do governments do half the things they do? I was ordered to Versailles and told to wait while they got their duckies in a row.”

            “Were you worried about me?”

            “Frantic. But at the same time, no. Even though I’ve never seen him, I know Raul through and through. He would threaten ‘til the cows came home but never hurt you. Me, on the other hand...he wouldn’t hesitate.”

            “Why?”

            “Because I tend to win whatever I’m after. It’s really rare for me to come up empty handed. For Raul, it’s always a crap shoot, so he’s jealous.”

            “Of?”

            “My landing this truly amazing woman. Not only is she beautiful, but talented, with nerves of steel.”

            “Oh? What’s her name?”

 

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