Reluctantly, he dragged his fierce gaze out of her lap to look at her face for the first time and was powerless to suppress a soft, sough of approval forcing itself from his lips. The woman was nonpareil! A vision of pale skinned, red headed loveliness. Obviously wealthy and impeccably well bred – and what was that she had said about the King?

Vulkan took a lurching step forward as she began to dab at herself from a small, enamelled flask of heavily perfumed oil, in an effort to camouflage the rank sexual fust the unwashed swine had left upon her flesh.

The prince swayed unsteadily as he sought for the necessary incantation that would cool his blood. Muttering under his breath as she, mistaking his behaviour for exhaustion, or worse, injury, leapt up to steady him. The deep valley of her cleavage bulged outward, threatening to escape her fashionably tight bodice as she struggled to hold him up. Vulkan closed his eyes in desperation as the milky white chasm swam before his eyes seeking to envelope and drown him.

"Oh no! are you wounded My Lord?" she gasped, her voice mellifluous despite her recent trial, "please sit down here, beside me, let me tend you."

Vulkan allowed himself to be seated and feigned fatigue whilst he brought his stampeding thoughts under control Thankful that his battle gear concealed the monstrous erection now forcing its inexorable way down his right thigh.

"You, er, mentioned the king, madam," said the prince at last, "would that be Leopold of Dashane by any chance?"

"Why yes it would, Leopold is my cousin," she trilled proudly, "and it will be my pleasure to present you to him at court, his gratitude for saving me from those unspeakable vermin will be boundless I assure you."