To be reunited with his Princess was almost too much for the Guard to bear. The months of torment had crumbled away so suddenly that he hardly knew how to cope. It was as if his heart had been resurrected and now it beat wildly in his chest, ecstatic to be alive. He had to constantly remind himself to be careful because on the few occasions they had met in public they had stared at each other, barely stopping themselves from giving the game away. The King was not a stupid man, and his eyes were also constantly on the Guard these days. It was a ridiculously incendiary situation.
And the King never left her alone. It was impossible to meet. They both longed to wrap their naked bodies round each other once again, but the penalty of being found out was just too high.
Then hunting season began and the King announced he would go to his Lodge for a few days. He wanted to take the Queen but she had been ill of late, struck by mysterious fainting spells and a remote Lodge was not the place for her. He considered taking the Guard. A few days confined with that delicious hunk of a man would be entertainment indeed. He even allowed himself to fantasize for a while about what he would do to him, but then he came to his senses and remembered his vow to be faithful. The Guard would be too much temptation, so he took his usual retinue of footmen and sycophantic Lords.
The Queen watched them ride away through the castle gates hardly daring to believe her luck. The next few days would be like old times. At night, she would dismiss her maids and take the Guard to her bed. They would have uninterrupted hours to explore each other and rekindle the mutual desire that had been so suddenly cut off. She quivered at the thought.
But the Guard was still inhibited by her married state.
'You took Isabella and she is married,' the Princess said, snaking her hand under his jacket to feel the tight muscles under his shirt.
'Don't remind me,' he winced and added, 'She is not married to a King.'
'You had me first,' the Princess reminded him, kissing him firmly and slipping her tongue into his mouth. 'I have always been yours,' she murmured against his lips.
And with a groan he gave in and pushed her back onto the bed.
They made love all night. This was no longer just sex; it was a meeting of souls, a silent vow to become as one, a promise to never part. He branded her with his lips. He entered her, and filled her completely. He stroked her until her cries promised him love. And in the morning he tore himself away from her to disappear into the shadows.
But someone saw him leave, someone who knew what he looked like after a night of fucking. Someone who wanted revenge.