“No more escape attempts, please. I have your best interests in mind. If you abuse my hospitality, I can’t say where that will lead exactly, but it won’t be anywhere nice. Understood?”
He expected her to honor such an agreement? How quaint. If he was going to suddenly shift from showering her with compliments to veiled threats, that was fine with her. It affirmed what she’d dreaded. She was only a convenience to him.
“Understood.” Perfectly understood.
“Dankyo. Fast as possible, please. Follow my orders next time.”
She would have grinned at Dankyo’s discomfort, but it would have been stupid to rile him further.
“Harry.” Dankyo gestured. “Carry her.”
To her amazement, she was carried swiftly back upstairs over Harry’s shoulder, and the cuffs were removed. She was allowed to bathe, albeit with June watching every move and two guards outside the door. Twenty minutes later, she was clean and dressed in a yellow silk calf-length dress, her hair combed and loose over her shoulders and her hands resecured with a set of padded cuffs. A quick examination confirmed the same locking mechanism.
The house guards escorted her downstairs and into a rattan chair at the opposite end of the table from Theo. Dankyo, as before, stood beside him.
A trio of sparrows flitted across, inches above the table, chasing each other with loud indignant chirps before zipping out through the dense wall of flowers to the open air. It was so beautiful, so peaceful, and if not for the four attending house guards and Dankyo, it would have been an intimate and hidden affair.
Yet, this was so wrong. This was a breakfast for the rich and idle. She didn’t belong here.
Chapter Five
At the other end of the table, Claire looked around at the table setting, the birds, at anything but him. Theo frowned. He drummed his fingers on the white linen tablecloth next to the senate report and the broadsheet from New Baskerton. Today’s paper, yet, after all these days, it held no news of the Pancontinental Mexican airship. Which meant someone high up was keeping it under wraps.
Spiro, his manservant, backed onto the balcony, pulling a serving cart laden with freshly cooked sausages, poached eggs, mushrooms, and bacon. Tilting an eyebrow he waited for instructions, all attentive in his starched white pants and shirt.
“The lady first,” Theo said.
The graceful line of Claire’s neck drew his eye lower to where her breasts swelled above the bodice of the yellow dress. A petite chin, curved and kissable mouth, a turned-up nose. With her straw blonde hair feathering her shoulders, she looked as pretty as the little doll his sister, Mari, used to play with. Only this doll he wanted to play with—really wanted. He shifted in his chair, rearranging trousers that were suddenly uncomfortable.
Then why am I sitting here merely having breakfast with her?
Right now, Claire looked bewildered as she surveyed all the food piled high on her plate. While Spiro served him, she picked up her fork and knife and tried to cut the food. The linking chain of the handcuffs clinked against the edge of the plate.
The contrast of the circlets of metal against a woman’s skin never failed to get his blood humming. A delectable woman, restrained at his breakfast table, one of his favorite scenarios. He imagined clearing the balcony of staff, stripping her, laying her naked across the table. Those pretty white wrists lashed above her head, legs spread wide for him. His member pressed hard against his pants.
Yes. A breathtaking thought to start the day with. Now all he had to do was get her to agree to such arrangements. He had a feeling that would be difficult—she had a ton of feistiness and anguish all bundled up inside her. No wonder, though. Spiro’s voice brought him back to reality.
“Sir? Will that be all?”
“Yes. You may go, Spiro. You also, Dankyo.” He gestured in dismissal. “And the four guards, please.”
“That may not be wise, sir.” Dankyo flicked a look at Claire, his eyebrows scrunching together. “You don’t know what she is capable of.”
“True, but she’s at the other end of this table, and she’s cuffed. I think that is sufficient, don’t you?”
“Ah—” Dankyo’s mouth writhed as if he struggled for words.
“Go. That’s an order.”
When the balcony was clear, he rubbed his brow. Damn. Why was he so tongue-tied? What was there to converse about with someone who had no family? What would it be like to be her? Lonely, surely?
The senate report on frankenstructs detailed their assembly from cloned parts—a deliberate ploy so the PME could say they weren’t human and thus use them like any other piece of manufactured equipment. They credited a Dr. Frankenstein with the breakthrough. A straight clone would be irrefutably human. Such a clever technicality with such sad results for someone like Claire.
Something should be done, but what exactly?