He tried to get up but the rope on his wrists wouldn't let him. He fell back, insides curling up with horror. What had he done? Drunk too much wine at the ball and left himself easy prey to her advances. He hadn't remembered seeing her on the dance floor. But then again, everyone was masked. He looked at her feet, hoping to remember her shoes. Women could always be recognised from their shoes. But she was barefoot, long straight toes twitching irritably. He had never seen her look less than flawless; so bare with naked feet. No matter, she looked perfect. Cruel but perfectly beautiful even though devoid of the mask of cosmetics. Her clear eyes shone through the glimmer of scorn on her face and he could almost fool himself that he was back in love with her. His friend's widow.

He had broken many of the commandments many times before but that was nothing compared to the seventh, do not covet thy neighbour's possessions. He could betray his oldest friend, Baron de Winter, for a night with his wife. He did in the end. And she had played him mercilessly.

'What do you want?' His voice was shaky, showing his nerves, stretching taunt as the ropes holding him there. He felt as helpless as a baby.

'Good evening. Nice to see you Buckingham.' Her voice was low, mocking. She sat there, smiling, making no move to untie him. She had got him right where she wanted him. He hadn't recognised her at the masked ball, wearing all black. She knew he'd be able to recognise her from her heeled laced up boots so they were hidden quietly in the corner of the room along with her feathered mask. She wasn't taking any chances.

'What do you want?' He tried to stop the trembling in his voice.

'Simple request, where did you hide the diamonds?' It was a casual question in a very dangerous tone of voice.

He couldn't tell her. He couldn't. His beloved Queen's life depended on it.

She uncurled herself and crept towards him across the sheets, slinky as a panther. The sweat stood out on his brow and he stuttered incoherently, his terror seeping from every pore. She reached him and leaned over, strands of hair tickling his cheek. Deliberately she laid her cool white hands on his temples and stroked gently down. He screamed in his head to get out but his body was tied down. He knew if he stayed here, his resolve would weaken considerably.

'I, I...I'm not telling you.' His voice was faint, almost pleading for her not to know. He saw the disdain in her face.

In one swift movement, she straddled him and got down to business.