The Diary of A King's Mistress

11th February, 1668

        At the first light of day, I made my way to the deck of the ship to find the crew making crude remarks about my night with Gabriel. In my memories, twas a night I would remember til death, and even then, my celestial self will always remember. The ship docked in a small village off the coast of Ireland. Even kilometers away, you would be able to hear the Celtic music play. The people were magnificent. Greeting with kind smiles and strong shakes of hands. I was unable to break away when my feet grew tired from the dancing. Until the stars were out once more, I had danced through the pain. Even in my moment of contentment, he lingered on my mind. His touch, his scent, his voice, him...

        As the music grew more and more slow, I saw his gaze upon me. But this instance, it was not a look of admiration, also not one of hatred or anger. It had been one of complete prey. The eyes of my love resembled that of a hungry wolf. Only, I knew his hunger was for something far more carnal. I had decided to play this look to my advantage. Slowly, as the music played, my swaying became more sybaritic. Closing my eyes, I tossed my head back and allowed the music to be my thoughts as it swept me through the crowd of villages also indulging in the music and the company of the ones they admired.

        He had taken my hand into his as he pushed me through the horde of villagers and danced with me. Due to my height, he was forced to place me upon his feet in which we danced until our feet bled. With the stars overhead, the Celtic music, and the feeling of peace, I found no moment as perfect as such. Any other woman in my position would be terrified to be in a place she did not know with a man she knew as well as what lingered in the bottom of the sea. Somehow, something eased my mind. His company could be the answer to my ease, or possibly even the atmosphere itself.

        As the sunlight attempted to break through the darkness, I was taken from the crowd to a place beyond the village. Behind a building, I was pushed up against a wall by his powerful hands. Unable to protest, his lips were already against mine. Pushing harshly in a form of passionate desire instead of lustful intention. His hands remained on my waist instead of trailing down my body and removing my corset that would later be a challenge to place back upon myself. It was as if he were living through my kisses. To this moment, I am unsure how long we spent kissing, but I do know, most of the day had passed and gone until we boarded the ship. He then remained distant from me.

        I understood why he did this. For his own persona; being masculine and full of pride, he did now want the crew to imagine a woman having a strong thrall over him. Being frank, I was offended by this, fore I desired him, being near him-being his possession. But that seemed to reign true when I was alone with him. Whenever I tried to state my opinion, his touch always allowed me to forget. Even now as I write of my day, I forget just thinking of his kiss...