Saber wanted to spring off the bed and curse. He wanted to shake Eva, tell her they were meant for each other. Of course, he could just tell her he suspected they were mates and they wouldn’t do well—either of them—if they tried to live on different planets. Yeah, he could do that. But he needed her to want him.
To come to the decision on her own to be with him.
He wanted to know she valued him, cared for him.
He craved her love.
And damn, didn’t that make him a stupid sap?
Instead of having a tantrum to dispel his frustration, he nuzzled her neck, breathed in her scent and began making love to her again.
And it was making love, rather than sex. They mightn’t have known each other for long, but he knew the difference between lust and love. They’d seen each other at their best and their worst and with that diversity came strong bonds.
He snorted inwardly. The sort that echoed the mate bond.
He gripped the taut globes of her ass and pulled her closer, letting her feel his lengthening dick, his need for her. She hesitated but kissed him back, twirled her tongue with hers.
At least this was one area where they were in perfect accord.
He kissed her deeply, letting her have it rough and raw. Imprinting himself on her, body and mind. Then he eased the kiss, turning it lazy with the stroke of his tongue. She gave a purring sound of approval, and he smiled against her lips.
“More,” she said when he nibbled her bottom lip.
“Not a problem.” He nuzzled her neck, bypassing the tattoo and heading for her breasts. The nipples puckered the instant he gave them a long lick. So responsive. His hands wandered lower, slipped between her legs. She twisted against his body, struggled to give him plenty of room.
His nostrils flared at the scent of arousal filling the air. Mouthwatering, it steeped him in lust.
“Come inside me,” she said.
“I want to take you from behind.”
“Any way you want,” she whispered, her body pliant as he rearranged her on the sleep-bed. He moved over her, sank his cock into her damp heat and a primal sense of satisfaction filled him. He kissed the space between her shoulder blades then moved his mouth across to the tattoo. Unable to resist, he licked her silky flesh and his pulse picked up in speed. She groaned, the lustful sound pushing him to drive into her faster.
Once again, he climaxed hard, unable to hold back the pleasure backing up inside him like a mountain avalanche. He had enough presence of mind to strum his fingers across her clit, make it good for her while he still had a few brain cells functioning.
“That’s it. Come for me.”
She moaned, the throaty sound twisting another spasm from his cock. “Saber.”
“Enjoy my name on your lips, kitten.”
“Saber!”
“Let go. I want to hear you cry out in pleasure. Let me feel it, Eva. Show me how good my cock makes you feel.” He gave a feral grin and rubbed again.
When she started quaking, he gave her more until the tension snapped in her straining body.
“Perfect,” he said, his voice emerging in a ragged whisper. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”
She wriggled from his grasp when her breathing eased and turned to look up at him. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Want something to eat?”
Saber climbed off the sleep-bed. “I’ll get you something.”
“I have legs.”
Saber brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Don’t you get it, kitten? I derive pleasure from doing things for you.” His gaze settled on her breasts. “With you.”
“I’m used to looking after myself.”
“I know, but I’m willing to shoulder some of the burden. Remember that, kitten, and think about it.”
* * * * *
Eva thought about Saber’s words the next morning when she left to meet with Robbie. She thought about them throughout the morning and continued to do so when she returned to her lodgings to dress for her audience with the king.
She clomped down the passage to the reception room of her lodgings. Robbie was seated at Pryce’s old desk, going through the accounts for the restaurants.
“Any word from Saber?” she asked.
“Not yet. What are you going to do if he doesn’t come?”
“He’ll get the info we need,” she said. “And if he doesn’t, we’ll go with what we have. It’s pretty damning on its own.”
“Not many people cross swords with the Dearbhorgaills,” Robbie said. “Your life won’t be worth living if the king rejects your claims.”
Eva’s mouth hardened. Pryce had died. Others had been hurt often when Lady Almeda didn’t get her own way. It wasn’t right for the ruling classes to hold so much power over the lower-caste inhabitants on Dalcon. “I’ll face that if it happens. At the very least, Lady Almeda will feel the embarrassment of hearing her name on the lips of gossips. She won’t enjoy the rumors at her expense.”
Robbie checked his timepiece. “We have to leave for the palace. We can’t wait any longer.”
“Very well,” Eva said.
The fly-mo ride to the palace didn’t take long, but Eva felt as if she were entering another world when security let their driver through the main gates leading into the palace.
Robbie gave the guards on the inner wall their names, and Eva waited anxiously while they consulted their list. There was always an outside chance that one of the Dearbhorgaills had been told about her upcoming audience.
The fly-mo driver came to a halt at a third security gate. “This is as far as I can go. Do you wish me to wait for you?”
“Yes, please,” Eva said and handed over several currency notes.
Guards checked her bag for weapons and patted down Robbie. Once the guards were satisfied, they were allowed to enter the main palace grounds.
Gardens full of colorful flowers of every hue imaginable caught her eye. In the distance, a large oval-shaped pond glinted in the solar sun. White gravel paths wound between the gardens and knee-high hedges, and several pagodas with elegant spires and decorations offered places to rest and while away the solar day.
“Come along,” a man said in a testy tone. “The king is a busy man.”
Eva turned to glimpse a rotund man wearing a deep-purple robe over his shoulders. A matching turban wound around his head, highlighting his round face. A crease between his eyes indicated his mood. Impatient.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Come along,” the man repeated, snapping his fingers in her direction. He trotted off, obviously expecting them to hurry.
Robbie gave a wry shrug and limped after him. Eva sighed. She hadn’t been nervous, but now that she and Robbie followed the courtier, nerves swirled through her stomach, recoiling and rebounding like a mindless panicked creature.
She trotted after the man, keeping her gaze on the swirl of his purple cloak as he navigated a maze of corridors within the palace. They reached a room full of courtiers and citizens of Dalcon. The famed audience room.
“Wait here,” the man said.
“Flaming fungus,” Robbie said in an urgent whisper. “The king is never going to get through this many people. I’m sorry, Eva. I’ve wasted your time.”
“We’ll wait,” Eva said in a firm voice. “Let’s find a seat. They seem to be moving in and out quickly enough.”
Eva kept an eye on the door. Every few minutes a courtier in white came out, consulted a list and hollered a name.
“Look who’s here,” Robbie said, tugging her arm.
“Who?” Eva’s gaze followed the direction Robbie indicated and her stomach swooped into freefall. She squeezed against the wall and attempted to look inconspicuous.
Lady Almeda and Lord Loeiz Dearbhorgaill, dressed in their finest clothing and pressing the flesh.
Robbie leaned closer. “Do you think their presence is a coincidence?”
“I don’t know.” Eva studied their ea
sy posture and the way they circulated, chatting with many of the other men and women who were waiting for their turn to speak with the king.
The first thing she and Robbie had done when they’d entered the room was to scrutinize everyone waiting for an audience. Neither of the Dearbhorgaills had done the same. Because they’d known she was here, had seen the contents of the request she’d completed. Or someone had told them.
Either way, it didn’t bode well for her audience or her petition.
“I wish Saber had turned up with the proof he said he’d get,” Robbie said. “It would make all the difference.”
“I know.”
“The evidence we have now mightn’t be enough,” Robbie continued.
“I know,” Eva repeated. “We’ll go with what we have and make the best of it.”
The courtier in white came out and called the next name.
“How much longer, you think?” Robbie asked.
“I couldn’t say. You said we were at the end of the list.”
Robbie sighed loudly. “Yes.”
“Then we wait, and hope for the best.” Eva studied her hands and concentrated on her breathing. She could do this. She imagined Pryce standing at her shoulder and urging her to do her best. In her mind, she heard Pryce encouraging her to face his parents and stand tall.
That was all anyone could ask of her.
“Eva Henry,” the courtier intoned.
Robbie stood. “I’m coming too. I’m not letting you face them alone.”
“Thanks.” Just knowing Robbie intended to stand with her lent steel to her spine. She strode toward the waiting courtier, garbed in a scarlet gown Pryce had purchased for her to wear to a court function. Chin up in a determined jut, Robbie limped at her side.
“Only you,” the courtier said.
“No. I need my assistant to come with me since he has pertinent information to my petition.”
The courtier looked Robbie up and down, took in the well-worn but clean black trews and shirt, his cane. He sniffed but nodded grudgingly. “This way.”
The king’s audience room made Eva’s steps falter. Gold glinted off every surface and blue stones—the color of royalty—ran around the wall in a decorative trim. Pryce had visited the king here. They were of a similar age and had known each other well. They’d been friends, which still caused wonder to well in Eva.
Her gaze hit the king where he sat on his ornate throne, and it flitted away when she recalled that Pryce used to joke and say he’d seen the king naked. He was a royal, all right. No doubts there, since his equipment was apparently also blue, as rumor held.
Heat flooded her cheeks, and a sharp nudge from Robbie’s elbow jerked her back. Frying fungus, she thought as she sank into a deep curtsy. Mind out of the drain.
“Your m-majesty,” she managed. After long seconds, she rose, her tongue flicking out to dampen her lips. What now? How to start? Did she plunge right into her grievance or did she wait for the king to signal she should start?
Before she could decide, the courtier dressed in white started to read from his genic mini-tab. “Eva Henry, widow of Lord Pryce Dearbhorgaill,” he intoned. “She is here to air her grievance regarding Lord Loeiz and Lady Almeda Dearbhorgaill. I have taken the liberty of summoning the Lord and Lady so they might rebut her words.”
The king sent her a piercing look, a warning he was no mere figurehead in this principality. His eyes were a vivid violet, and so pretty she wanted to stare. She didn’t. Instead she took a deep breath and waited.
“Bring Lord and Lady Dearbhorgaill into my chamber. We will hear the charges together to expedite the matter.”
“Yes, your majesty.” The courtier marched to the door and opened it.
Eva heard him ask the Dearbhorgaills to enter. Before he could shut the door, muffled screams and curses rose. Male shouts. Women’s screams.
The king rose, hand planted firmly on a laser weapon strapped to his side. “What is it, Turlow?”
Before the courtier could reply, a large black cat charged into the room. A satchel was tied around his neck and it bounced as Saber ran.
In her peripheral vision, Eva saw the king take aim. “Don’t shoot!” She jumped in front of the laser weapon. “Please. He’s with me.”
Saber halted by her side and licked her hand before sitting on his haunches.
“A-are you s-sure?” Robbie whispered, backing away. “He’s awful big.”
“He’s fine,” Eva said and petted Saber on his head, scratching behind his head. She ignored Saber’s sharp snarl of protest and continued to run her hand over his soft fur.
The king hesitated, but when Saber pressed against her and purred, he thrust his laser weapon away and sat on his throne.
Lord and Lady Dearbhorgaill entered the audience chamber at a dignified stroll. They came to a halt, their faces bearing identical appalled expressions.
“Your majesty,” Lord Dearbhorgaill said. “Is that creature safe?”
“I am assuming the animal is harmless,” the king said. “Ms. Henry seems to have it under her control.”
Eva wasn’t so sure about that. With each stroke of her hand, she felt the tension in Saber’s muscular body. Robbie wasn’t accepting her assurances either, because he moved to her other side, his stance as stiff as a fire poker.
“Ms. Henry,” the king said. “Please give me a précis of your grievances.”
“Lord and Lady Dearbhorgaill have made my life a living hell, your majesty. They have gone out of their way to create difficulties for me and my restaurants.”
“Preposterous,” Lord Loeiz snapped.
The king held up a hand, and Lord Dearbhorgaill’s face took on a pained expression.
“While I was away recently, Lady Dearbhorgaill barged into one of my restaurants and stole three blank currency forms. I also have reason to believe they arranged a contract on Lord Pryce, and as a result, my husband was murdered in the market. Lastly, they have called in favors from their contemporaries to ensure I was unable to borrow to finance my third restaurant. Only one company offered me finance, and I have since discovered the Dearbhorgaills are behind the offer. They make it difficult for me to meet my loan repayments by ordering their underlings to vandalize my existing restaurants. They create disturbances to drive away my customers, spread rumors of food poisoning. You name the means, and they’ve used them to damage my businesses and my reputation.”
“I see.” The king glanced at the Dearbhorgaills, then back at her, and stroked his chin. “Do you have proof of your accusations?”
“Your majesty!” Lord Dearbhorgaill sent her a murderous glare. “Surely you don’t believe the word of this…this common trollop?”
“She’s a guttersnipe!” Lady Almeda snapped. “Brought up in the market. She has no morals. She’s a thief and a liar.”
Saber snarled, and Eva pressed a firm hand on his furry shoulders. “Stay,” she whispered.
“Quiet,” the king said to the Dearbhorgaills in a firm voice. “What proof do you have, Ms. Henry?”
“I have documentation in my bag, your majesty. They prove Lady Dearbhorgaill stole currency certificates from me. I also have statements from people who live in the market. They witnessed the vandalizing of my restaurants plus some of the other bully tactics employed by the Dearbhorgaill underlings.”
The king held out his hand. “I’ll see them.”
Lady Almeda sent her a vicious glare. “But—”
“Quiet,” the king barked.
Eva retrieved the documents she and Robbie had collected during the previous day. “These are sworn statements of witness accounts, plus I have retrieved the cancelled currency certificates from my banker. I should explain that before my recent absence, I wrote with special ink on the currency certificates, and this was witnessed by my banker and two employees.” She handed the certificates to the king.
He peered at the certificates. “I see nothing out of ordinary about the certificates.”
“
May I, your majesty?” Eva stepped closer. “Firstly, each certificate is numbered. You will see that the numbers match the numbers recorded in the witnessed document here. The ink requires heat in order to be read. I have a steam apparatus in my bag. It will produce enough heat to react with the invisible ink.”
“Intriguing. Turlow, I shall require you to witness this process,” the king said.
“Your majesty,” Lord Loeiz protested. “Are you truly going to believe the word of this trollop?”
Eva noted Lady Almeda’s cheeks were scarlet with fury, her hands curled like claws at her sides. “Everyone knows she’s a liar! She tricked our son into marriage and now she seeks to destroy our lives!”
“Quiet!” the king thundered. “Or I’ll have you forcibly removed from the audience room.”
Lady Almeda’s mouth snapped shut, and she glowered in Eva’s direction. And perhaps looked a little worried.
“Show me the ink,” the king ordered.
Eva pulled the steamer from her bag. Robbie held the certificate as she waved the heat across the portion where she’d written in the special ink. Slowly, words formed on the paper.
“Amazing.” The king exchanged a glance with the courtier.
“What does it say?” Lord Loeiz demanded.
“Whatever it says is a lie,” Lady Almeda snapped.
“Read the words for Lord and Lady Dearbhorgaill,” the king said to his courtier.
The man retrieved a pair of eyeglasses from an inner pocket, accepted the certificate from Robbie and started to read. “This certificate is the property of Eva Henry. It is to be used for petty cash and the amount of this certificate must not exceed twenty-five shillars.”
“And how much is the certificate made out for, Turlow?” the king asked.
“Ten thousand shillars, your majesty.”
“Check the ink on the other two certificates, Turlow,” the king said.
A weighty silence pulsed in the audience room while the courtier activated the ink with Robbie’s help.
“They are the same, your majesty,” the courtier said. “Except they are made out for higher amounts. Twenty-five thousand shillars and fifty thousand shillars.”
The king focused his glare on the Dearbhorgaills. “What do you have to say about this?”
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