The Masked Royal

   *NOT EDITED BUT AWESOME ANYWAY*

    The eldest son of the Duke of Dunshire, Harlem Ediant Dunshire was not scared. At least, he wasn't on the outside. Harlem's face was perfectly stoic as the handmaid fixed his bow tie. The feeling of her hands brushing up against the skin of his neck was a sorrowful reminder of why he could not fail tonight.

    Harlem froze when the maid's hands lifted and grasped either side of his face. Her soft, but strong, touch brought Harlem back down to Earth. The sound of her warm, smooth voice caressed his ears, "What is wrong, Love?"

    Harlem turned his head and pressed a peck to her one of her fingers. He leaned into her touch, taking in the scent of the lavender oil he had gotten her. "I can't fail, Allana. If I do..."

    His voice trailed off, leaving the words floating between them in the open air. They knew what would happen if their relationship was found out. Harlem had been taught from the age of birth what it meant to be a noble of the kingdom. He would be punished, maybe even disowned but Allan would suffer far worse.

    She would be charged with treason and hanged.

    And that is what was at stake tonight. Someone from inside the manor had found out their secret. Harlem didn't know who or how, but the letter had been clear. He had one chance to make sure the news wouldn't be brought to the duke and duchess.

    Allana's hands dropped to his. She stepped closer to his chest, leaving nothing between them. Harlem eyes roamed the length of her without consequence like they had many times before. Out of all the women he had ever seen his life, Allana was the most precious gem of them all.

    Dunshire Manor was located near the castle of the royals. The region was marked with heavy foliage, unforgivable heat, and the air carried the scent of salt from the nearby ocean. It rained a total of ten times, if that, in a year. With the heavy sun, the citizens all carried the same dark, tanned skin with a leathery quality. Most had the same black eyes and withered look about them from work.

    That was why Allana had been a breath of fresh air to Harlem. She had come from the North, the Ediant territory from which his mother had also originated, sent by her family for work. Over time his mother's skin had taken on the familiar Dunshire tan but Allana's hadn't. She reminded Harem of a white rose, delicate but strong, and sharp.

    Allana's snowy skin and dark hair reminded Harlem that there was a world outside the borders of the manor. Her sparkling green eyes were the same shade of the sea in the summer and her sharp curves were the same of the encompassing mountains that bordered the kingdom. She was short, the top of her head reaching just to his chest. Her face was angular with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and thick red lips.

    More so, Harlem adored her from top to toe. She never saw him as the son and future duke, rather a man in the making. Allana had stood her ground the from the moment they met and since then, it was all downhill. Harlem fell in love with her in less than a week and spent the next six months begging for her time. Now, though, he almost wished he hadn't. They knew the consequences that would come down if he failed what the blackmailer wanted from him.

    "I know what will help you feel better," Allana leaned in, whispering in his ear. Harlem felt his heart sped up as her lips brushed the skin under his ear. One of her hands came up to his chest, the other trailing under his shirt, just above his slacks. Harlem sucked in a breath as it ventured deeper, enough to make contact with his most private area.

    Harlem shut his eyes and let out a rough moan. The sound filled the air at the same time his hand caught her wrist from doing anything else. He pulled it out of his slacks and dropped it while taking two steps back, putting space between them.