*
Theo sat at the end of the long trestle table and surveyed the boisterous end of the evening’s meal. Most of his people were here, apart from those on guard duty and a few other essential tasks. The conversation had grown louder and merrier as wine circulated. Along the horizon yellow and orange washed across the sky. Two bonfires crackled in pits to the side.
At the start of the evening, Claire had been given a place beside him. He’d watched her sit prim in her long sea blue gown, all goggle-eyed through the first course. Since Jonathan was next to her and opposite sat Kirsten and Maria, she’d soon thawed out. He intended her to be drawn out by these most friendly of his staff, expecting to see her enthralled by stories of cooking disasters and triumphs, girly gossip, and fashion. Instead he got…hell, he got this…
Claire stood in a small group of mostly men. The blue dress clinging to her curves and the low neckline surely strained some of the men’s eyes. Oblivious, she took Kirsten’s hand and showed her, yet again, how to throw a knife. Kirsten flung the blade. This time it clunked into the log she’d aimed at. A squeal of feminine glee split the air. Kirsten jumped up and down laughing, then hugged Claire.
“I did it!”
Theo chuckled and stretched his legs out across Claire’s vacant seat.
On this warm night cicadas and crickets clicked and chirruped. With autumn here, they’d soon be silent. The olive crop had been poor. Perhaps I should get the south field—
“Sir?” Dankyo deposited himself on Kirsten’s chair. It creaked.
Theo looked pointedly at the protesting chair. “You need to lose weight, man?”
“No, sir. I’m at my ideal weight. It’s only the weight of muscle.”
“One of these days, you’ll learn to take a joke.” Theo took a sip of his red wine, sighing at the flavorsome burn in his throat.
“I recognize your jokes, sir. I just refuse to take part in them.”
“Uh-huh. What’s bothering you?”
Dankyo slid a wallet of papers across the table. Theo glanced at them. Claire’s story.
“Finished reading already?”
“Yes.” Dankyo leaned back, making the chair groan again. “Some of it seems…odd. The last paragraph is the most disturbing. Mass assassinations?”
“Mmm. My thought also. Get this copied and off to the right people tonight. I need Claire’s original. I think I can use this to push that bill through. We can pressure the PME with this. Get them to call off any attacks. Right now they’re vulnerable to trade treaties and vetoes.”
Dankyo nodded. “So you still plan to get the Frankenstruct Bill repealed.”
“Hell, yes. It’s a damn injustice. Then we can squeeze the PME with the benefit of a higher moral stance. As it is, we’re not better than them. If the PME free the frankenstructs, I can guarantee most’ll up and leave. Slaves never have liked doing what their masters want them to.”
“Oh?” Dankyo lifted his eyebrows, sniffed. He jerked his chin sideways. “Except that one?”
A personal question? From Dankyo? Theo tried not to show his amusement…and amazement. He looked at Claire. “That’s different. Contrary to what you believe, Dankyo, it is a consensual affair. We both enjoy the exchange.”
His cock hardened just at the memory of their last exchange. So much more to show her too. He inspected Claire’s figure, from those full breasts down over where the dress material swayed and outlined her stomach and buttocks—all the way down her legs to the perfect sweep of calf muscle. As if she could feel his gaze on her, she turned and smiled warmly, then walked over with Kirsten in tow.
“Really?” said Dankyo.
Surprised at Dankyo’s late reply and the peculiar tone, Theo looked at his head of security. Dankyo watched the women.
No. My mistake. He’s watching Kirsten. Well, well. Looks as if the man is flesh and blood after all.
As the women approached, the hip-tilting allure of Claire’s walk and her lilting voice drew a smile from him. So many little things made her who she was—not as blatantly feminine as some, but underneath was a simmering sensuality.
Kirsten took a seat next to Dankyo. To Theo’s amusement the man stiffened—though most wouldn’t have seen the difference.
“Claire.” Theo snagged her waist, curving his arm about her and pulling her toward his lap. She resisted, ending up standing at his side with her arm braced on his neck.
A little line creased between her eyes. “Um, there’re people watching.”
“So?” He increased the pull of his arm, and she gave in, sitting, with a bump, on his lap. “Better.” He made sure to not let go. “What is wrong with this? Sitting here?”
She mumbled something.
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” He might have laughed, except he didn’t want to give her the wrong impression.