She held out her delicate, exquisitely manicured hand to him. "I am on my way to the king's keep from my husband's border lands," she confided, "I am the Countess Jessica; Lady in Waiting to the Princess Lilliphane – the king's beloved sister."

"Prince Vulkan of Janudor," he returned, enjoying the warmth of her soft fingers in his massive palm, "forever at your service My Lady." As reverently as possible he lifted her hand to his lips, resisting the almost overpowering urge to sink his teeth into her pretty, white knuckles.

The countess lowered her eyelids demurely, but not before he had seen the glint of naked desire flicker deep within the beautiful blue orbs. As she withdrew her hand from his, he felt her stroke her long nails against his palm in a gesture of lubricious over-familiarity. It would seem that the lady had not been too distressed at either, her recent ravishment, nor by the subsequent slaughter of her escort and erstwhile malefactors.

It was another two days slow travel to Leopold's keep. Vulkan smiled in contentment, things were beginning to work out nicely.

"As it happens I am on my way to Dashane myself," he said, "to compete in Princess Flamia's joust."

"Ahhh, I see, then you intend to fight for the little princess' hand in marriage."

"Indeed I do."

"Well, Flamia could hardly hope to have a more handsome, or valiant suitor now could she?" purred the countess as she solicitously dabbed the perspiration from Vulkan's overheated brow with her soft kerchief.

Vulkan was stirred by the sound of groaning coming from the wounded outside. He stepped down from the coach, retrieved his dirk from the body of the leader, and set about cutting the throats of those brigands unlucky enough not to have been killed outright. He noted with not a little surprise that the countess had stepped down behind him and that she watched intently at his shoulder as he slaughtered what remained of her attackers, nodding approvingly as the last man gurgled away his final breath.