“Not exactly.” She frowned again. “I just thought a bit more dignity was in order.”
He chuckled. “Dignity? It has its place, but we’re lovers, and I want to be able to touch you, hold you when I feel like it, my dear. I want you to feel the same way.”
He rubbed his hand down her back, enjoying the warm contours at her waist before venturing lower. He could rest his hand on her bottom all day. From the way she wriggled, Claire liked this too. He nuzzled her neck, bit down.
“Ow.”
He watched her take one small shuddering breath. “Relax, darling. No one here thinks any less of you.”
“Sir.” Dankyo rose. “I’ll speak to you later of some other concerns.” He scooped up the wallet of papers, raked a last black glance over Claire, and left.
From the way Kirsten followed his weaving progress between the little groups of people, there was chemistry going both ways. While he was distracted, Claire hopped off his lap and stepped out of reach.
“I’ll, uh—”
“Claire. Come back.”
Kirsten watched, wide-eyed.
Walking backward, Claire retreated. “I’ll get some more wine.”
He rubbed his chin. He wouldn’t chase her down, but this needed changing. She should be happy and comfortable around him in public. Teaching her that would be interesting.
“Shall I go get her, sir?” Kirsten asked. She sprang to her feet, then tugged her skirt free from the chair.
He eyed the half-full glass of wine already in front of him, drummed his fingers on the table. “Go to her if you wish. Don’t make her come back. I’ll deal with her myself, later.”
“Oh.” Her hand tightened on the skirt. “Yes, sir.”
He grinned as Kirsten scampered off. The woman was no doubt imagining far worse punishment than he intended. A little awe and fear didn’t hurt. He was the lord here. Claire would soon find out that meant more than obeying him in bed. Not even Dankyo was allowed to refuse a direct order.
Chapter Eleven
Next morning, Theo reminded her of the picnic. Claire bathed, wondering where the gyrocopter was stored, then dressed in the clothes laid out on the bathroom divan.
Dark gray leggings went under a strapless white bustier that fastened between her breasts with gold hooks. Next, fitting snugly over the top, came a maroon leather jacket with a flared bottom and a flock of straps and buckles down the arms and front. Completing the ensemble were ankle-high black boots, maroon gloves, a pair of gleaming brass goggles, and an ivory and gold hair clip to hold her hair in a ponytail. Goggles swinging from her hand, she went in search of the gyrocopter.
The bathroom door swung shut behind her with a soft click. Instead of going left along the little hall to the bedroom, she went right toward a heavy steel door that had always been locked. The door swung smoothly open on four oiled hinges.
In the middle of a wide room, a gyrocopter sat on a circular platform, which had a low metal railing curving around its periphery. To the right, timber doors had been pushed back, and a rectangle of startling blue showed the day to be spectacular and cloudless. Theo stood a few yards away at the near wall, turning a crank. By clicking on a ratchet mechanism, he slid the gyro’s platform toward the opening.
Theo wore a hedge green leather coat, along with black boots, gloves, and tight black trousers. A wide belt held a stumpy Gerwelt, pistol and a knife was sheathed at the opposite hip.
He smiled at her. “Here, help me wind this thing out.”
A bedroom with a gyrocopter launch pad. How delicious. She smiled back and went over, anchoring her hands on the end of the handle and leaning into the turn. The platform wound out faster.
With a clunk the platform reached its set position, projecting out the side of the mansion. They strolled over. Claire exhaled as she put her boot on the polished timber slats. It echoed but barely swayed. Beneath was a two-story drop; above was sky.
The gyrocopter had two seats, one behind the other, inside an angular glass cockpit that was open at the back. The steam voltaic engine at the rear started easily when Theo cranked it, coughing out a thin stream of smoke, then sputtering, before settling into a contented purr. A spider web of polished rods formed a golden curved tail, and above Claire, the two tiers of gyro blades slowly picked up speed. All in all it resembled a supersized mosquito with the throaty sound of a contented cat. Tucked and strapped into a wicker compartment behind the last seat were a picnic basket and a pile of cushions.
“Shall we?” Theo offered her his hand, and though she had no need of help, she rested her fingers in his before climbing in.
Once seated, Theo increased the throttle and shouted back, “Seat harness on! Goggles on! Bugs get past the screen sometimes!”