Jasper Wallace climbed the darkened stairway in the ancient castle, without the aid of candlelight. He didn't wish to draw attention to his trespass. His mission was too important to fail. Luckily he'd walked this path every evening for the past month.
Quietly, he hurried down the narrow corridor, a smile spreading across his face as he neared his destination. He stopped at a door at the very end of the corridor. Looking back into the darkness he listened for hidden footfalls. Satisfied he rapped on the door and waited. Shortly, a young and attractive maid opened the door. Her eyes widened at the sight of him. By her expression, she always acted as if she'd never seen him there before. Or perhaps she was only surprised to see him back again.
"You may leave, Aileen." The voice from behind the maid was full of command, barring any argument. The girl turned and curtsied to her mistress, then strolled from the room without a backward glance.
Jaspers eyes slid into the room, where his beloved Mary sat up in bed, a smile of welcome on her lovely face. He quickly entered and locked the door behind himself.
"Did anyone see you come?" She requested, her voice husky and sweet.
He took a moment to enjoy the sight before him. Princess Mary was a beautiful woman. Her regal bearing was always perfect, and when she walked her hips swayed softly from side to side. Her satin locks of sable hair was long, hanging to her waist. and always it was brushed to a shiny glow, and scented with roses. Even now, the scent teased his nostrils from across the room.
Her hair fell in abundance over her shoulders, and down her back. Several strands stuck to the skin of her pale neck. He strode across the chamber to her, welcomed by the warmth in her eyes.
"I was very cautious, my love." He grinned at her. The smile that spread across her face was breath taking.
Mary watched him approach. The look in his eye was predatory, and delightfully alarming to her feminine senses.
He removed his greatcoat tossing it carelessly onto a chair. Her heart began a steady drumming. His eyes never left hers, and though she wore a silk sleeping dress, she felt naked beneath the scrutiny of her lover.
He perched on the edge of the bed, long enough to remove his boots, then he turned and crawled to her. His hand rose, cupping her cheek, and bringing every nerve in her body sharply to life.
"I hate having to pretend we're not in love." She whispered placing her hand over his.
"It's hard for me to, lass. But your mother would never allow us to be together. Queen Mary has her eye on the French Princling, to by your husband. You know this my heart." He sounded a bit bitter, but he also spoke with straight forward acceptance.
