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"I suppose you also advocate full-body bathing as often as possible," Porthos commented, his tone clearly derogatory. Madame was very easy to provoke.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I believe in full-body bathing with soap and water at least once or twice a week when possible." Sometimes more frequently.

"Wherever did you pick up such a strange notion? Don't you know that bathing causes sickness and chills, drains life away?" Porthos informed her, deliberately baiting her further.

"Well, I'll have you know that I've been bathing in this manner all my life, and I am rarely ever sick. And the Asians have been doing so for centuries, and they live significantly longer than most Europeans." Barring war, that is.

"Where did you become such an expert on Asians?" Athos changed the subject before Laurel took it into her head to go after Porthos and do him some mischief.

"Before I was born my father used to frequently travel to the Indies and was an active participant in the spice trade. He made a fortune in it because he adapted to the Asians' way of life. He followed many of their practices and won their respect. Eventually, he hired a half dozen Asians to come back to France with him and serve in his household. So I grew up with an Asian nursemaid and other Asian servants. I cannot think that the Asian traditions I have followed would hurt anyone," she concluded. She was beginning to suspect Porthos might have been baiting her. Would fit perfectly well with the big man's personality.

"No wonder you're such a queer little thing," Porthos interjected, and Laurel looked as if she'd like to shove his words back down his throat no matter how much bigger he was. All thoughts he might have been baiting her fled from Laurel's mind.

"I'm not little, you hulking elephant. And call me queer if you must, monsieur," she threw back at him, deliberately slighting his rank as much as possible. "Of course, I think that men are afraid of change, afraid of a woman or anyone for that matter who is proud to be independent and not ashamed of who and what she is." She spat out the last words with all the hurt anger that was pent up inside her being.

"Christophe," Athos tried to break through her tirade, but she was determined not to stop. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him. "Christophe! Christophe!" he cried, shaking her until she shut up. "You are creating a scene and could well blow what is left of our cover with this tirade. I suggest you finish it in private." Each word became softer so that only she could hear it.

The young woman took several deep breaths and stood up straight, trying to regain her composure. Very quietly, with fiery intensity, she told Porthos, "I am who I am. I will make no apologies for that. I'm an eccentric, just like my father, and I'm very proud of that. I've got every reason for my pride, just like you, or Athos, or Aramis, or D'Artagnan take great pride in the unique people you are." She choked on a word before going on. "But I suppose that makes me a freak who cannot fit into society anywhere, beyond the pale and not a true lady or woman. At least you have somewhere where you belong, monsieur. I don't even have that. So at least allow me my pride in myself, my accomplishments, and my heritage," she finished and rushed from the room to the streets and lost herself in the crowd. At least she had gotten the last word.

D'Artagnan joined his two companions after almost being bowled over by Laurel as she stormed out of the room. "What happened with Christophe?"

"Christophe lost his temper again," Athos finally answered, his eyes looking for Laurel's form. Her temper might well end up getting her killed just as his own temper had nearly killed him about eleven years earlier, before he had learned to better control it. That and her penchant for trying to help through direct challenge when other methods other than frontal assault

did you become such an expert on Asians?" Athos changed the subject before Laurel took it into her head to go after Porthos and do him some mischief.

"Before I was born my father used to frequently travel to the Indies and was an active participant in the spice trade. He made a fortune in it because he adapted to the Asians' way of life. He followed many of their practices and won their respect. Eventually, he hired a half dozen Asians to come back to France with him and serve in his household. So I grew up with an Asian nursemaid and other Asian servants. I cannot think that the Asian traditions I have followed would hurt anyone," she concluded. She was beginning to suspect Porthos might have been baiting her. Would fit perfectly well with the big man's personality.

"No wonder you're such a queer little thing," Porthos interjected, and Laurel looked as if she'd like to shove his words back down his throat no matter how much bigger he was. All thoughts he might have been baiting her fled from Laurel's mind.

"I'm not little, you hulking elephant. And call me queer if you must, monsieur," she threw back at him, deliberately slighting his rank as much as possible. "Of course, I think that men are afraid of change, afraid of a woman or anyone for that matter who is proud to be independent and not ashamed of who and what she is." She spat out the last words with all the hurt anger that was pent up inside her being.

"Christophe," Athos tried to break through her tirade, but she was determined not to stop. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him. "Christophe! Christophe!" he cried, shaking her until she shut up. "You are creating a scene and could well blow what is left of our cover with this tirade. I suggest you finish it in private." Each word became softer so that only she could hear it.

The young woman took several deep breaths and stood up straight, trying to regain her composure. Very quietly, with fiery intensity, she told Porthos, "I am who I am. I will make no apologies for that. I'm an eccentric, just like my father, and I'm very proud of that. I've got every reason for my pride, just like you, or Athos, or Aramis, or D'Artagnan take great pride in the unique people you are." She choked on a word before going on. "But I suppose that makes me a freak who cannot fit into society anywhere, beyond the pale and not a true lady or woman. At least you have somewhere where you belong, monsieur. I don't even have that. So at least allow me my pride in myself, my accomplishments, and my heritage," she finished and rushed from the room to the streets and lost herself in the crowd. At least she had gotten the last word.

D'Artagnan joined his two companions after almost being bowled over by Laurel as she stormed out of the room. "What happened with Christophe?"

"Christophe lost his temper again," Athos finally answered, his eyes looking for Laurel's form. Her temper might well end up getting her killed just as his own temper had nearly killed him about eleven years earlier, before he had learned to better control it. That and her penchant for trying to help through direct challenge when other methods other than frontal assault

call me queer if you must, monsieur," she threw back at him, deliberately slighting his rank as much as possible. "Of course, I think that men are afraid of change, afraid of a woman or anyone for that matter who is proud to be independent and not ashamed of who and what she is." She spat out the last words with all the hurt anger that was pent up inside her being.

"Christophe," Athos tried to break through her tirade, but she was determined not to stop. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him. "Christophe! Christophe!" he cried, shaking her until she shut up. "You are creating a scene and could well blow what is left of our cover with this tirade. I suggest you finish it in private." Each word became softer so that only she could hear it.

The young woman took several deep breaths and stood up straight, trying to regain her composure. Very quietly, with fiery intensity, she told Porthos, "I am who I am. I will make no apologies for that. I'm an eccentric, just like my father, and I'm very proud of that. I've got every reason for my pride, just like you, or Athos, or Aramis, or D'Artagnan take great pride in the unique people you are." She choked on a word before going on. "But I suppose that makes me a freak who cannot fit into society anywhere, beyond the pale and not a true lady or woman. At least you have somewhere where you belong, monsieur. I don't even have that. So at least allow me my pride in myself, my accomplishments, and my heritage," she finished and rushed from the room to the streets and lost herself in the crowd. At least she had gotten the last word.

D'Artagnan joined his two companions after almost being bowled over by Laurel as she stormed out of the room. "What happened with Christophe?"

"Christophe lost his temper again," Athos finally answered, his eyes looking for Laurel's form. Her temper might well end up getting her killed just as his own temper had nearly killed him about eleven years earlier, before he had learned to better control it. That and her penchant for trying to help through direct challenge when other methods other than frontal assault

my pride, just like you, or Athos, or Aramis, or D'Artagnan take great pride in the unique people you are." She choked on a word before going on. "But I suppose that makes me a freak who cannot fit into society anywhere, beyond the pale and not a true lady or woman. At least you have somewhere where you belong, monsieur. I don't even have that. So at least allow me my pride in myself, my accomplishments, and my heritage," she finished and rushed from the room to the streets and lost herself in the crowd. At least she had gotten the last word.

D'Artagnan joined his two companions after almost being bowled over by Laurel as she stormed out of the room. "What happened with Christophe?"

"Christophe lost his temper again," Athos finally answered, his eyes looking for Laurel's form. Her temper might well end up getting her killed just as his own temper had nearly killed him about eleven years earlier, before he had learned to better control it. That and her penchant for trying to help through direct challenge when other methods other than frontal assault might well have worked better.

"Let me know when Christophe gets back. I want to talk to him immediately," Athos told his companions and then made his way to his room, flinching as he jarred his still tender shoulder.