Theo reached back over his shoulder and found her fingers. “Everything good back there?” he yelled over the engine noise.
She swallowed, clearing away the obstruction in her throat. “Sure! There’s nothing wrong!” She held on tight to his gloved fingers an extra few seconds, memorizing the feel of them, before letting go.
Chapter Twelve
Theo watched the landscape slowly change. The windswept high plateau sloped down to the river. The water tumbled through a ravine, then emerged onto the plain, widened, and slowed. Farther west, past a lake of blue-green depths, the river slithered to a sunlit archipelago at the edges of the sea.
“Down there!” He pointed at a clearing, reducing speed to steer the gyrocopter in to a gentle landing on the northern bank of the river. The coughing engine frightened some long-legged cranes. They flapped skyward, legs scraping a line of turbulence in the water. Forest crowded the opposite bank and surrounded the clearing they’d landed in.
He swung out and dropped to the ground. Claire slid off her goggles, then took his offered hand. Once her boots touched ground, he reeled her in, wrapped her in his embrace, enjoying the curve of her ass against his gloved hand. His other hand held the back of her neck in the V of thumb and fingers, his ring finger lightly playing with her nape hair. Her neck stiffened at first, then softened. Her rich amber irises widened, and her hips angled against him. Her acceptance of this act of possession pleased him.
Back at the airship crash, he’d sensed she wasn’t revealing everything. When he demanded truth, she still held back. Maybe not a straight-out lie, but close. The important answer, that she’d not hurt him, he believed. Now he just had to coax it all out of her, and he would, else the only alternative would be sending her away. God, he didn’t want that. Once he pinned down whatever she hadn’t told him, he’d get to take it out on her ass, and that made it all the more enticing—figuring out the almost lie.
For now, he had to soothe her. She was wound up tighter than a clock spring.
He leaned in and kissed her fiercely, snuggling his hand farther down her firm bottom, pressing in along the crotch seam of the leggings, as his tongue penetrated between her lips. She relaxed into his arms, a satisfied hum sounding deep in her throat.
He pulled away, casually undoing the ivory hair clip and shaking loose her shoulder-length hair. “Let’s get this picnic organized.” He tapped the tip of her nose.
Claire’s gaze took a moment to focus. “Oh. Yes.” Clearly his kiss had done more than stir her a little. He wondered how far he would be able to entice her today.
The soft grass near the bank was a good spot for the picnic rug and cushions. He twisted open the catch on the basket, folded back the lid, removed the strawberries and cool yogurt, the honey, pastries wrapped in a cloth, and more. Underneath the food lay a flask of wine. Claire hovered nervously. Picnics were obviously another novelty for her.
Even better. He liked the idea of drawing her out, introducing her to new things. His servants were always doing things for him, and doing this for Claire was pleasant—no, more than that, it satisfied something inside he’d not known was there.
“Now…” he announced with relish. “First some food. Then we are going to talk and learn about each other.” He sat down, legs crossed.
“Why?”
“Because we know next to nothing about each other. I’ve read what you wrote, but that’s dry stuff. I want to hear it from your mouth. You like the idea of there being a place for you here. Well, this is one of my requirements.”
She raised one eyebrow in that cute way she had, but she joined him. At first she sat like he did, with her legs crossed—a position you could rise from easily, if need be. She surveyed the surroundings, going from the butter and bread knives to the pistol at his belt—all the potential weapons. He didn’t doubt she knew exactly how many steps it took to reach the gyrocopter or the forest line. Battle ready, Dankyo would call it. If she was guarding him, he’d approve, but in a consort—
Then she saw him watching her, as she watched everything else. He shook his head, slowly, in dismay. She shrugged and moved those long legs around until she sat with them tucked up and angled together to the side. He inclined his head.
That she’d understood him was nice, but even better was the trust implied in the way she’d relaxed. A fierce satisfaction overcame him. Re gamoto. He could get used to having a woman on hand who could swap from personal bodyguard to sexual submissive in the blink of an eye.
“Have you tried these before?” He took up a small platter. “Baklava. Almonds, honey and crushed walnuts layered in fine pastry. Delicious.” He offered them to her. While Claire picked up a piece, he uncorked the bottle and poured them both a glass of retsina. The surprise on her face when she bit down made him grin.
“Good?”