The Baker's Secret

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It all changed the day she walked into his shop.

She was such a vision of beauty from the first day he saw her, Foster often wondered what she saw in him. He, a simple baker with his own shop in Morglenn while Prisillas was a Duchess, niece to King Albor the Fourth and prominent figure of the royal family.

Granted, he was a tall and handsome man as he was told so by several of his female customers looking for signs of courtship. He kept his brown hair short and neat and the years of pounding dough gave him a lean physique. But the life of a baker with very early mornings and very long days offered little time for the comforts of a relationship. Foster loved his work. He loved the smell of fresh baked bread, the sweet aroma of delicate pastries and the smiles on the faces of his many patrons.

But the moment Prisillas entered, his world and his life took on a different meaning. She said she was in town that day looking for gowns and jewellery but noticed the crowd and had to come see for herself what the commotion was. His little bakery was filled with people, smiling and gathering, tasting a new recipe for a cream filled danish Foster had created. The Duchess entered and everything came to a sudden silence. All eyes, especially Foster's, fell upon her but she paid no mind to any but his. He dwelled upon her soft features, auburn hair and green eyes, the way her gown wrapped her body while she walked and gave a fine impression of her exquisite form. The crowd parted and bowed to allow her passage to him.

"You have quite the busy shop here, I was motivated to see for myself what the excitement was all about," she said.

"It's a new recipe, m'Lady, would you care to try?" Foster offered.

Something in her eyes, he was lost in them when she bowed her head slightly and looked at him, offering the slightest smile, "Please."

She watched him while he cut a small piece of his new pastry and offered it to her. Instead of taking it, she leaned forward and opened her mouth, allowing him the honour. As delicately as he tried, he still fumbled and dabbed a bit of whipped cream on her top lip.

"I apologize, m'Lady... so clumsy of me..." he reached for a cloth but she was undaunted as she ran her tongue along her lip before he could get to it. His body froze as he watched.

The wedding was a grand thing. Prisillas oversaw all the arrangements while Foster was tending to his duties and the whole of Morglenn arrived for the ceremony. They became the talk of the town when they were seen together, which was not terribly often with the bakery to run but Foster finally agreed to take an apprentice to assume a greater part of the responsibilities. But he could not let it go entirely. Even after he moved in to the palace with his new wife, Foster would rise even earlier to make the longer trek to open his bakery and prepare the breads for his customers. No matter what efforts Presillas employed, the bakery was still his life and his love. Every day she would pass in her carriage and glance into the shop to see him and every day he would look for her and offer her a loving smile and a wave. She would smile and settle back in her seat before moving on.

Until one day.

The bakery was overflowing with patrons readying for the upcoming festivities before the winter solstice. There were mothers and daughters all vying for Foster's attention to get their orders in for breads and desserts and he completely lost track of the passage of time. When all had settled, his apprentice reminded him he missed his wife.

He slapped his hand to his forehead, "I did, didn't I?"

"Aye, she stretched her neck out searching for you and looked none too pleased about not finding you."

"Well, I shall have to make it up to her then!" he smiled.

He entered their chambers with one hand behind his back. Presillas was in a simple white shift while she worked away on stitching a tapestry. The fire was behind her and Foster could clearly make out the details of her naked body underneath. His passion began to stir in him.

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