by Jean Winter
Too long.
Sal was not to be deterred. “Well, bring the kids, too. You know I love them. The Upghim's will be bringing theirs, anyway. Lyra can still bond with Breht and Jos', or whatever it is you expect her to do, at my house just as well as there.”
“Is he inviting us too, Father?” Breht broke in tentatively. “Because, if he is, I would like to go.”
Kade was floored. “Wait. I thought you were bent on going to Oquim's?”
“Well, I was, but I would rather go to Uncle Sal's.” The teen was trying not to sound too eager. “He lets me shoot stuff.”
“So you would rather stay here and work with me all day so you can go to Sal's this evening?”
“… Uh, aye.”
Breht actually volunteering to spend more time with the family was an opportunity not to be missed. And, truth be told, going would also help pass the time this evening while Kade was still … unsure of himself around Lyra. Maybe rubbing shoulders again with more of his own class would help him gain some perspective about what to do with her.
“What 'bout me? Ca' I go, too? Pleeeeeease!” Jos'lie was hopping up and down, not about to let herself be forgotten.
“Look,” Sal said through the receiver, “dinner is provided and I booked Frett and the gang from Burhnee's. I have already invited a few more people, as well, just to help round out the atmosphere, but I need my buddy to help me keep things going smoothly. Even with all my charms, we both know you are better with difficult people than I am.”
Lyra had joined the children in the doorway, curious—no, worried—over what the fuss was all about. She was still recovering from the last fuss. And the one before that. And the one before that. Kade motioned for Lyra to come in and for Breht and Jos'lie to close the door so he could speak with her in private. They sullenly obeyed.
“Is that Lord Mejhisk?” she asked.
Apparently Sal heard her voice. “Is that my lovely Lyra? Kade, let me talk to her.”
“No—”
“Lyra!” Sal yelled, “Lyra, Loveliness, make Kade hand you the receiver!”
“I said, no,” Kade tried again. There was no telling what crudeness would be spouted into Lyra's sheltered, tender ear.
But Lyra grinned. “Let me talk to him, my lord. I can handle it.”
Kade considered her a moment then muttered, “All right, but one o' us is going to regret this. Be a gentleman,” he warned Sal before giving up the receiver.
A near magical transformation occurred as Lyra quickly evolved character in preparation for Sal. She began to bubble with delight as she spoke. “My Lord Mejhisk, how nice to hear your voice again!” She listened to Sal's greeting and giggled. “Yes. We have gotten to know one another quite well this week. … Yes. Yes. I am feeling much better now, thank you … Oh, I know. I was really nervous that night. I just didn't know what to expect, but my Lord J'Kor, well, he has a certain way of putting a woman at ease.” Another pause then Lyra cried in mock shock, “My lord! It would not become me to speak of such things over the wire.” She laughed at something he said and turned away, speaking quieter. “No, my lord, I am afraid I could not offer such indulgences to your ear in private, either.”
With a giggle, she sauntered behind Kade's chair and started twirling her fingers through his hair in an absent-minded manner. Kade suddenly felt much warmer.
“Ummm, no. My sweet, J'Lo—” The ear piece was pulled away and Lyra whispered to him, “A khar can have pet names for her lord, right?”
“Er, aye.”
“My sweet J'Lo has sworn me to secrecy,” she teased, “and I will take such intimate details to my grave.”
Sal's belly laugh could be heard easily enough. Then he found it in himself to speak quietly again.
“Mm hmm,” Lyra murmured in response. Then, “No! Really? My J'Kor?” Lyra's wide, too innocent eyes turned on Kade and with a sinking feeling, it came to him where Sal might be going with the conversation. He made a grab for the receiver, but Lyra ducked out of reach, listening further. “How many did you say?” she said in shock, still in character. “And just how old was he?”
Oh no. Not that story. Lunging to his feet, Kade grabbed Lyra by the waist and quickly wrestled the receiver away from her, making her laugh more. Then Kade hung up on his best friend. Yup. It is me. I am the one regretting it.
“But he was just getting to the good part, my lord.”
“Aye, I know. And that is precisely the part you do no' need to hear.”
Her eyes shone with simple, joyous mirth and Lyra didn't even seem to notice his arm still hooked round her. “But didn't you still need to speak with him about plans for tonight?”
Kade smirked. “Three. Two. One …” The wire receiver rang again and he cocked an eyebrow at Lyra. “You know, it is highly disturbing how easily you turn into another person. Are you sure you were no' trained as a spy?” He let the phone's signal chime through the room a few times before finally answering it. Sal had better be on his best behavior now.
“Look, mate,” Sal quickly started in his best bargaining voice, “you come tonight and I will gladly be there to assist at shearing time.”
“You were going to do that anyway,” Kade retorted.
“No, brother. I just said I would gladly come. No moping this time. And I will throw in Feshel to boot.”
“Your gamekeeper?” Very tempting. Kade wouldn't have to hire a temporary hand this year. “Give me a moment,” he said. Kade searched Lyra's face for hints of how she was feeling. “Do you think you could handle a party tonight?”
The eyes dulled to that expression of melancholy that was becoming all too familiar. “Will it get me another day?”
“Tell you what, Sugarpip,” Kade said. They could make this interesting—for him. “You convince Sal and everyone else there that you are a reformed, obedient khar, falling head over heels in love with me, and you will have earned yourself a whole week. Guaranteed.”
It was only a moment before that delicately pointed chin of hers was jutting out again. “Deal.”
Gods, she was so cute when she did that.
“Deal,” he echoed softly.
The details with Sal were finished up quickly. It would be a whole evening of socializing, dancing, and dining with Lyra acting as his eager lover. This was going to be very interesting.
“My lord, how do you want to handle …?” Lyra put some fingers to her fading bruise.
“Well,” he said, studying the slightly discolored area, “it is very nearly gone. If you leave your hair down to hang around your face, I doubt anyone will notice. Besides, what is wrong with the story we let my mother believe?”
“What's wrong is Sal,” she reminded rather darkly. “I-I mean Lord Mejhisk. He is not going to believe that. He knows you too well.”
Blast! She was right. Sal knew very well Kade would never hit a woman over something as trivial as a disregard for social convention. In fact, Kade had never believed himself capable of striking a woman for any reason. That he had let his temper get the better of him even this one time was something we would not be able to let go for a long, long time. “Just keep your hair down and try to keep your distance.”
“Okay, I will do my best,” she said with some skepticism.
His returning smile was broad. “I have no doubt o' that, Mistress J'Kor.”
She started. “Mistress J'Kor?” It was uttered like a new flavor. A flavor she didn't like.
“It is how I will introduce you tonight,” Kade explained. “It is the most respectful title I am allowed to call you in public.”
“Oh, I understand. I was just … caught off guard by the sound of it.” Her smile was forced. Superficial. Lyra's gaze dropped and she found something on his desk to engage her attention. “I was just getting used to 'Na Lyra.” Her breezy laugh was forced, too.
“But you do no' like it, do you?” he guessed. “You think it sounds dirty. It makes you feel dirty.” Her continued silence and lack of eye contact was answer enough. Did she rea
lly not understand? Kade used a few fingers to tip her face up to him. “Lyra, you and I are joined, it is as legal as a marriage—perfectly respectable.”
Her head nodded unconvincingly. “Sure.”
It wasn't enough. “To consummate it would no' be a … 'sin,'” Kade tried again, trying out one of the few words he knew from the Believers' vernacular. “Besides,” on impulse, he stroked her hair and let his hand slide slowly down her back, “how can something so natural and so beautiful be bad? Do you really believe that your god would place such drives and instincts in us if they were evil?”
“Well, no,” she answered, clearly trying not to let on how much she had liked that touch, “but you see, that's where—”
“Does this no' feel good?” Kade quickly added, sensing he was getting somewhere as he raised her arm for a lingering kiss to the inside of her wrist. Oh, she was definitely feeling something. And he wanted to know how far it went.
“Um, yes it does … in a certain—”
“And this?” he whispered, rubbing a slow, small circle at the curve of her back just above her tailbone. “Does this feel bad?” Her breath turned shallow.
“My lord, i-it is not as simple as whether or not you feel good or bad to me. That's not—”
A surprising realization occurred to him that made Kade laugh. “Lyra, are you feeling guilty about me touching you because you like it?” He brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. “And you think you should no'?”
“No.” But tremendous color had risen to her face. He had hit a mark. She attempted to pull away, but Kade didn't let her go.
“No, I am right,” he breathed with more certainty. “You see me as your captor. You are being forced into a relationship with me, and it scares you that you might enjoy it—being my mistress.” The rounded softness below her hip felt really good under his fingers. Control. Maintain control.
She pushed at him again and Kade let her go this time. “My lord—” she said, her pitch a little strangled, “what you just described is a documented syndrome. A twisted sickness. I am not sick.” She reached behind her for the office door's knob, straightening tall and erect. “Excuse me,” she said. “I have tart pans to clean.”
Ripping open the door, Lyra came face to face with Breht and Jos'lie still standing in the hallway. She sidled past them quickly.
“It is no' a bad thing, Lyra,” Kade called after her. No' a bad thing.
Henna's bosom! She was attracted to him! Kade grinned. Perhaps the road to breaking her down would not be as long and arduous as he had feared. A wave of giddiness washed over him. Then it ebbed. Breht and Jos'lie descended with questioning faces and his role as responsible father loomed its vanilla circumspect and innocuous head once more.
In that attitude, he also figured that Lyra would probably appreciate a small apology. He had been quite forward just now. The thing was, it was just so easy to make her blush that passing over the multitudinous opportunities she kept handing him on a platter was rather difficult to resist. But he'd better not lose the gains he had just made.
About that vow against complicated relationships?
Yeah.
# # #
The wet dish cloth slapped angrily against the table.
No, no, no, no! NO!
That Lyra was falling for him was an absolute and unequivocal impossibility. And even if she were—which she was not—he was still wrong. She would be living in sin. It didn't matter if all half million of the population of Caldreen recognized them as legally bound in this joining—SHE did not recognize it. Nor would any other Believer. It was still slavery, simple as that.
The scathing of the table with a sopping rag continued. Thankfully, J'Kor was still with his children in the office and Lyra had some time to cool down.
When Breht and Jos'lie did appear again, they headed straight outside, each going in a different direction and Lyra started water running in the sink for the dishes. The soap was added and washing commenced before J'Kor emerged. Lyra completely ignored him.
Unfortunately, it didn't phase him a bit. He leisurely wandered over and hopped up to sit on the counter right beside her.
“You know what I think?” the quirl sloth said after watching her work for a minute.
It sounded like a rhetorical question to her. Still ignoring …
“I think that I might possibly have gotten a little carried away in there.”
Lyra's scrubbing at the caked-on tart pan didn't even miss a beat. There was still no direct order to answer.
We went on, unconcerned, “And I think you have every right to be wary o' me.”
Oh, you hit that one right on the nose, buddy. Lyra scrubbed harder. Was this supposed to be some kind of apology?
“And that was no way for a host to treat his guest, especially someone who has so quickly made herself an indispensable part o' his life.”
Lyra paused. That was … decent. Inaccurate, but decent. The pan got rinsed and placed upside down on a towel-covered counter to dry. When she turned back, he was holding the next one out for her. Lyra calmly took it and went on with her washing. But when he was ready with the next item, too, she glanced up in suspicion. She was met with the sight of a self-effacing grin.
Blast, those adorable puppy dog eyes!
She only lasted another minute. Plopping the latest newly rinsed plate onto the drying towel a little loudly, said with measured civility, “My lord is generous with his praise. I only hope I can be worthy of it.”
His answer was maddeningly mild. “Well, my lady is patient with an intractable, out-o'-practice bachelor. I only hope I can be worthy o' her goodwill.” The next dirty plate was offered, but Lyra's wet hands took a firm grip of the sink edge.
“Don't you have some kind of important rancher work to do?”
“Aye.”
“So why are you—?” Then she sighed. “What do you want me to say, my lord?”
He grinned crookedly at her. “Say, I am no' a jerk.”
Lyra rolled her eyes. “You are no-ah a jeerk.” The opportunity to mimic the accent could not be passed up. She made a grab for the next plate, but he held it firmly.
“Can you say it again and actually mean it this time?”
Taking a breath, Lyra said it again. “You … are not … a jerk.”
“That was a little better. Now say, 'My lord, you are terribly rough around the edges.'”
Lyra looked at him like he was crazy, but if she ever hoped to finish these dishes …. They were both still pulling at the plate from opposite sides. “My lord, you are terribly rough around the edges.”
“'But I am willing to work with you …'” he continued.
“But I am willing to work with you.”
“'… out o' respect for your constant two-day vigil over me when I was sick.'”
Darn.
“Out of respect for your constant two-day vigil over me when I was sick,” she said with more humility. The plate finally got released.
“'And because I think you are dreamy,'” he finished.
What? Oh no, you don't! Plunging hands into the suds, Lyra whisked them up again and sloshed at least a pint of soapy water onto J'Kor's chest and lap. He gasped in surprise, hopping to the floor.
“Don't push it,” she sniggered.
The front door swung open and Jos'lie skipped into the house. “Found seeds! I found 'em!” She proudly showed her father the bag she was holding. “Ooh, Papa. You all wet!” Jos'lie giggled. “You funny!”
J'Kor began to pat his clothes down with a hand towel. “You mean I am supposed to remove my clothes before I get in the bath?” he said for his daughter's benefit, acting surprised.
“Mama Lyra, Papa forget! You forget!” The girl pointed a finger at him in a fit of delighted laughter.
Now was the opportunity to make Jos'lie and her bag of seeds an effective deterrant—or shield, whichever term one cared to use—from any immediate retaliation. Lyra went to her. “What have you got there, Sweetness? Are w
e going to plant these seeds?”
“Aye. Papa says we plant in the gar-den today.” Jos'lie held up the bag for Lyra to examine.
Inside were quite a few small paper packets, each neatly labeled. Most of the vegetable and herb seeds she recognized. Uh, oh. J'Kor was approaching.
“Good job, Jos', honey.” he praised, his eyes glued on Lyra. “Now go find the green toolbox in the garden shed for Papa. Waaaay in the back.”
Lyra's stomach fluttered and she knelt beside the girl. “Jos'lie, how about you stay here with me and help me finish the dishes. Then we can go find the toolbox together?”
“I help you dishes last night!” Jos'lie grinned. “I wi' go to the shed now.”
J'Kor's rich, baritone was irritatingly smug. “Good girl, Princess. Mama Lyra will be along in a few minutes.”
“Okay! Bye! I love you,” Jos'lie twittered, and with a sinking feeling, Lyra watched her shield blithely trot out the door.
She quickly shook it off and strode back to the sink. “Now, don't try to tell me you didn't deserve that.”
J'Kor laughed, following her over. “Who is saying I did no'?” He tossed the towel onto the counter beside her and Lyra turned to confront him, but in a flash, he wrapped his arms around her in a big, full-on hug. The wetness from his clothes began to seep into her own.
“No! Ew! Oh, that's cold!” she squealed, suddenly laughing at the ludicrousness of it all.
“Ah,” he crooned. “There is that smile again. I just had to make sure it was still there.”
Grunting, Lyra struggled to free herself. “Okay. Fine! I smiled.” Blast that masculine genetic advantage. “Now let me go! I still have dishes to wash.”
“You want to know what I am thinking now?” J'Kor did not loose his hold and his eyes were twinkling like crazy.
“'I am going to be a good boy and stop encroaching on Lyra's personal space?'” she suggested heatedly.
“You are sexy when you are angry.” And with a wink, he finally let her go. Lyra spun away, mortified as his footsteps led to the front door. “And when you are embarrassed,” he added. J'Kor sat on the bench to pull on his work boots.
Lyra felt her face go hot. She hurriedly went back to her washing.