The Ambassador's Daughter

by Theodora Lane

  •●•

  Stephen shut the door to his apartment and tossed off his hat and jacket, draping them over the couch in the living room. As he moved to the bedroom, he undressed, dropping the clothing as he went, leaving a trail.

  As he crossed his bedroom, he stripped out of his briefs and socks, also dropping them to the floor. He’d pick it all up later. Right now, his cock ached and he needed to take care of it before he exploded.

  Stephen leaned into the shower stall and adjusted the taps, letting the water run warm. Steam filled the bathroom as Stephen waited, stroking himself slowly, letting the arousal build until the water was just right.

  Warm water doused his body. Stephen squeezed body gel onto his palm and rubbed his hands together to create a lather. He washed his chest, neck, legs and feet, as his cock grew heavier the closer he came to it. At last, he rubbed his belly, let his fingers slip closer, running them through the nest of hair at the base of his prick.

  He groaned as he grasped it, took a deep breath, and steadied himself. If not, he’d shoot all over the tile walls before he took the first stroke.

  Brett.

  Stephen drew the memory of her in his arms, touching his body, looking up at him, the eagerness in her eyes. She was beautiful, brave and surprising. He could know her forever and still not really know all of who she was and he liked it. She excited him more than any of the other women he’d been with before.

  “Brett.” He took a long stroke, sliding his hand down the length. Groaned. “So good.” Would she…he threw back his head as he quickened his pumping. Would she join him here, in the shower? Get on her knees in front of him. Kiss him? Take him in her mouth?

  “Oh, God!” His balls tightened and before he could resist, he came, shuddering through his release, painting the wall of the shower with ropes of his cum. “Brett!”

  He heaved a sigh. Ever since he’d met her, he’d brought himself to release as if he were a teen, hard and wanting all the time. Having her once only made it worse, not easier.

  He blamed Brett. She did this to him. He laughed as he rinsed off.

  If he felt like this for the rest of his life, so be it.

  Brett would be his wife and he’d love her, worship her body, guard her heart and trust her with his heart.

  He couldn’t wait to see Brett again.

   •●• 

  Brett picked Lady Diane up just thirty minutes before they were to arrive at Lady Stuart’s. She dressed again in Commonwealth fashion, taking Lady Diane’s warning about fitting in to heart. She found it less and less irksome to put on a long skirt and soft slippers, but she still felt constrained. They weren’t her beloved jeans and boots, which always felt like her second skin, but she had to admit the gowns were attractive. Lady Diane was ready and waiting, and she managed to look very pleased to see Brett as she took her seat in the back of the car.

  Lady Stuart’s home was a townhouse in a lovely neighborhood, with trees lining both sides of the street. The townhouse was one of five connected to each other on the block. They were all three stories high, and not too narrow, with similar brickwork across the front. Lady Stuart’s house boasted an oversized front door, with a lovely etched glass transom over the top. They climbed the steps, and a uniformed maid opened the door before they’d reached the top.

  She showed them to the front parlor, where there were at least ten or eleven other women, some sitting, some standing, and all talking at once, it seemed. The chairs were arranged in rows so everyone could see the speaker. Everyone knew Lady Diane Brandon. She was greeted by the others, led to a chair up in front, and before Brett could blink, there was a cup of tea in Lady Diane’s hand. Lady Diane allowed herself to be looked after by the younger women, and with a smile, she patted the chair next to her for Brett to take. As Brett made her way through the small crowd, she was handed a cup of tea also, and she took the seat Lady Diane offered her.

  Once seated next to Lady Diane, she was introduced to most of the women who attended. She’d seen few of them before, but most were strangers to her. Lady Diane knew them all. Brett was so flattered when Lady Diane introduced her as “Stephen’s fiancée” she practically beamed. Lady Diane looked happy, too, an unexpected bonus.

  When a young woman approached and introduced herself to Brett, she looked down her nose and wrinkled it. Lady Diane spoke a brief greeting, introducing her to Brett as Lady Lividia.

  “So, this is the woman Lord Brandon has chosen? I wasn’t aware he enjoyed the smell of horses!” Was she seriously implying Brett smelled bad? Brett looked at the young woman and wondered what set her off. Perhaps she was one of Stephen’s former…paramours, perhaps? The room fell very quiet, and Brett knew in an instant all eyes watched for her reaction.

  “Well, I believe he has just recently come to appreciate it, Lady Lividia.” Her voice stayed calm, and there was no malice in it. If anything, Brett could do control very well when she needed to. Being underestimated was something which frequently played into Brett’s hand.

  The lady looked temporarily thrown, but regained herself and continued her attack.

  “I suppose off-worlders are all the fashion these days, if you like those types.” She sniffed.

  Brett remained silent. Lady Lividia looked around as if she scored a point in some game.

  Lady Helena Stuart stood. “Lividia, you wouldn’t dare make such a comment if my sister were present.” Her eyes flashed anger. Helena’s sister Della was married to an off-worlder. Brett remembered her mentioning it.

  Lividia blushed a deep red. Brett wondered what Lady Lividia would do now, continue on going deeper into this mess, or back out gracefully?

  But Lividia’s next comment sent her in deeper. “You’ll soon find my dear, Lord Brandon is fickle, and like a bee, prefers to pollinate all the flowers he can find, never settling on just one.”

  In a heartbeat, Lividia realized Lady Diane Brandon sat next to Brett, and she clapped her hand over her mouth as if to stop the flow. But the water was already over the dam.

  Lady Diane’s gaze turned on Lividia, her mouth a tight line. Brett could see the anger lying just under the cool facade of Lady Diane’s face and held her breath. Brett had no idea her mere presence would stir up so much trouble.

  “My dear, I wasn’t aware you'd been ‘pollinated’ by my son. In fact, I wasn’t aware you were a flower he ever lingered on.” Diane’s voice was like ice.

  Lividia paled. She’d insinuated Lord Brandon compromised her virtue, and it would be the last thing she would have wanted anyone to think. Despite their double standard, for an unmarried lady to admit she was not a virgin was social death, even Brett knew that much. Lady Lividia shook her head and held out her hands in confusion.

  “No, it’s not what I meant, Lady Brandon. Lord Brandon and I never kept company! Not ever!” She backed slowly away from the front of the room, looking around at the other women, lips trembling, on the verge of tears.

  Brett took pity on the woman, and stood. All eyes turned to her and waited for her to speak.

  “Lady Lividia, I’m sure no one here doubts you. I certainly don’t. I hope you will stay for the meeting. We really need your help with this project.” She smiled at Lividia, who froze in her tracks. A look of relief passed over her face as the color returned, and she nodded.

  “I wasn’t going to leave, Miss Butler, merely going to find my seat.” She moved down the row she stood near and plopped down into a chair. Brett was pretty sure it wasn’t been her seat, but smiled and nodded.

  Lady Diane looked at Brett and leaned over to her. “You didn’t have to do it, Brett. Her behavior was shameful.”

  “True, but we all deserve a little mercy,” she replied.

  Lady Diane nodded once. “Fair enough.”

  The meeting didn’t start until fifteen minutes later. Lady Helena waited for her sister Della to arrive. Being pregnant gave her excuse to be late it seemed. Much fuss was made over her by the other women until she was safely
seated, teacup in hand. Lady Helena began the meeting, and as Brett managed to get a look around her, everyone seemed lit up with interest at the idea of the Service Guild. She sat back, wrapped her arms around herself, and smiled.

  Perhaps she'd found a place, not so different from home, which just might accept her. She’d learned over the last four years acceptance was a hard commodity to find out here in the galaxy. If she married Stephen, she would have to bend. Bend to his society and its rules. Bend to the needs of his career, not hers. She’d given it up years ago, and it was fine. It wasn’t what she’d wanted for her life.

  Could she give up her dream of returning home to run their family ranch?

  Perhaps she would be able to find a place for herself here. She could make a place for herself by Stephen’s side. Everything would be fine as long as they were together.

  Brett turned her attention to listen to Lady Helena Stuart and then stood as she was introduced, and began her talk about the Service Guild.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Rogers stood on the steps of Duke Brandon’s house. After he’d rung the bell and explained who he was, he waited as the message was brought to the duke. He fully expected to be allowed in unless the duke was out or in conference with someone else. The last time he’d been here the duke assured him he could return. He tapped his foot on the stone step and then forced himself to stop.

  The duke’s manservant returned to the door, opened it, and bid him enter. He led Rogers into the library where Brandon sat at his console going over data. The old man looked up and nodded.

  “Duke Brandon, I’m so glad you would see me. I have something I believe will interest you. This project could use just your point of view.” Rogers extended his hand to the duke and thrust forward a data disk. Brandon took it, slid it into his console, and called it up on the holovid.

  The two men watched as a schematic of a device rotated slowly before them. Brandon’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward and punched up some data. It streamed before him on the screen as the object continued to rotate slowly in midair.

  “Is this your project, Rogers?”

  “No, sir. Let’s just say someone in my department is working on this.”

  “And he gave this to you to bring to me?” Brandon sat back watching the device spin.

  “Not exactly…Can we also just say it was left lying around, and I stumbled across it?”

  Brandon nodded, understanding what Rogers was telling him. “We are certainly saying a lot without saying much.” The duke eyed him and then shrugged. “So what is the problem, Rogers?”

  Rogers had met the duke several times before as a member of the research and development team at HQ. About three months ago, he’d brought a problem with a sonic field generator to be debugged. It'd an issue with a resonance loop which activated at a particular time in the power up sequence, causing it to feedback and then blow up. Everyone in the department had been stumped, and his supervisor suggested he take it to the old duke. Brandon found the defect, suggested a simple correction, and it worked, saving the project from more cost overruns.

  “Well for one thing, this project doesn’t exist.” Rogers slowly twisted his wedding ring around his finger.

  Brandon looked up sharply and opened his hand to the holograph. “But here it is, nonetheless.”

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “How do you know it’s not supposed to exist?”

  “I am now the accounting manager for our department. It’s a recent promotion, sir. I have access to all of the projects our department is working on, and it is my job to match the money to the project. You know, staff time, equipment, that sort of thing, to be charged to the correct project. I handle all the invoices. It’s budget work, sir.” His voice belied his disappointment in the position. “This project is not on my list. It doesn’t exist.”

  The duke rubbed his chin and looked at the device again. “What does it do, Rogers?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell me, sir. I can’t figure it out. All I can tell is it has something to do with antimatter.”

  The duke snorted. “Harnessing and focusing antimatter has been tried before, Rogers, and was an unmitigated disaster. We couldn’t do it. The stuff is too unstable, too volatile. It destroyed half the lab, I recall, before we canned the project as too costly and too dangerous. We were lucky no one was injured or killed.” Brandon leaned over the data readouts, this time hitting some buttons and scanning the results.

  “I knew your history with the stuff, sir, it’s in the files. I wondered if someone was using the work your fellows did, maybe jumping off from it?” Rogers suggested.

  Brandon sat back again and looked at Rogers. The man was pale, slightly hunched, a typical R&D type, plain clothes, but an honest man, he felt. An honest man who stumbled onto something perhaps not so honest? “You said you found this just lying around? Is this the only copy?”

  “The only copy I have, sir. The original is still with the owner, I guess.” He shrugged. Brandon wondered if he were being purposely vague or really didn’t know.

  “Any idea of who the owner might be? Or do you know and are concerned about approaching him?”

  “I don’t know who it is, but I’m not sure if I can just go around waving the disk and asking, ‘Does this belong to you?’” Rogers smiled nervously. “But I’m damn sure whoever it is doesn’t know I have this copy.” Again he flashed the nervous smile.

  “Let’s keep it that way for now. Do you mind if I keep this to look over? I’d like to see what they did to make this stable, or if they didn’t.” Brandon mused again and then said, “So if it’s not on the budget, how will it be built and tested? The labs are locked down, and any equipment appropriations would have to go through you.”

  “Build it elsewhere?” Rogers offered softly. “Fund it elsewhere?”

  Brandon looked up at Rogers. He’s smarter than I gave him credit for. The duke nodded. “R&D it here then take it elsewhere to build and test. But where, and on this planet, or off? Last I heard, only a few of the planets had the ability to generate antimatter.” And why would someone take it off-planet? It smacked of something very wrong. Build it and turn it over to whom? In the wrong hands, this weapon could be a disaster or change the history of their worlds.

  “Rogers, I’ll work on it. You stay out of it for now, unless you get a lead on who is working it in the lab. If you do find anything, contact me immediately. I know how to deal with this through the proper channels.”

  Rogers nodded and stood. “Thank you, your grace.”

  Brandon gave a wave of his hand, dismissing Rogers, as if brushing away a fly. After he pushed a button on his desk, Blalock appeared to show Rogers out.

  Now, this was something he could get between his teeth, chew on, and get his juices flowing. Brandon rubbed his hands together, like a child with a new toy, and then set to work.

  •●•

  The door to the duke’s stately home opened, and Rogers stepped out. The door swung shut. Once again, he stood on the steps for a moment, deciding whether to go back to work or home.

  He’d done what he’d come here to do, and damn the consequences. He was lost anyway, no matter what. Better to die with your ethics intact than die as a traitor.

  A man stood across the street and down the block from the duke’s house ing as Rogers left the mansion. For a moment, Rogers halted, but the man turned and walked away.

  His decision made, Rogers headed toward his house.

   •●• 

  Jonathan sat at his console and stared at the blank screen. He rubbed his chin and then ran his hand through his hair. It'd been nearly twenty-seven years, he calculated, since he’d asked a woman out on a date. There were other girls before his beloved Elaine, but after his first date with her she was the last woman he’d ever asked out. Now, at fifty, he was trying it again.

  He wouldn’t even be thinking about this, but he couldn’t bear another embassy dinner sitting across from the bastard Ambassad
or Koenig from Alpha V. He was insufferable, always rubbing Jonathan's nose in the empty seat next to him at the table. They were always seated across from each other at all the embassy functions. Something to do with the order, by last names, supposedly, not to offend anyone, but if Jonathan were a betting man, he’d put money down Koenig arranged it.

  They’d first met on Alpha V three years ago when he’d served there as ambassador, and Koenig was attached to the ministry. Koenig took an instant dislike to him. Once assigned here, he’d thought himself rid of Koenig, only to find he'd been given the Ambassadorship to New Commonwealth.

  Koenig used every available opportunity to needle him about his lack of female companionship. As if having a woman next to you made you more of a man. The annoying man was well aware Jonathan’s wife died recently, but he never seemed to let it stop him from making rude or crass comments.

  Jonathan sighed. How did the man do it? Every time a different woman, and the last one scarcely out of her thirties. Hadn’t he ever heard of robbing the cradle? Koenig was at least as old as Jonathan, yet he seemed to have an endless supply of young women to drape over his arm. He was a good-looking man, but still…perhaps he owned a harem hidden away in his embassy? Perhaps it was a perk of being an ambassador Jonathan himself hadn't yet called up?

  Jonathan’s reflection looked back at him from the console. He couldn’t call himself handsome, he guessed, too many years and too many battles behind him. It was an honest face though. Despite the lines around his eyes and across his forehead, he had a strong chin and deep green eyes. His brow might be a bit heavy, and his nose had a small bump where he'd broken it, but he still had a full head of hair. Not too tall, yet a good solid six foot.

  His battle injuries didn’t show, not until he used his left arm. The shoulder could barely support anything of weight. He’d worked hard at his therapy, sweating past the pain, gritting his teeth to get the optimum arm extensions, doing the required arm curls with the weights. He thought the push-ups would kill him. All this work just to get the limited use he had now. At least it didn’t hang limp at his side. He knew he should be grateful for it.