by Jean Winter
“You must be joking. He has always been nothing but critical o' my—”
“We both know that was just simple jealousy, brother, but as a shallow man o' indulgence myself, I was able to help him consider the pleasures o' a different, more compelling vice—greed.”
In a moment, a deep chuckle was resounding from J'Kor. “You do have a way o' relating to people on certain self-serving levels. Thank you, mate. That … that means a lot to me.” He tipped his head in gratitude.
At Mejhisk's quick, sly glance, Lyra had to duck her face to hide her smile. “Now, regarding much more important matters, Kade,” he said, “I forbid you to make your vyvlett blossom here wear this deplorable excuse for raiment. You know my parties are always formal and I expect all the women to be stunning and electrifying accessories at them.”
“No' to worry, my friend. That is why we arrived so early. Lyra requires the use o' Maryn's machine to alter a gown.”
Much relieved, Mejhisk was soon conducting Lyra to his khar in a craft room where Lyra found Jos'lie happily perched on a stool, concentrating hard on a bit of embroidery. The cozy room was lined with shelves of fabric, knickknacks, and art supplies, and a large, deep table upon which was inset a sophisticated sewing machine. 'Na Maryn, who had been supervising nearby with her own work in her lap, set her thread and needle aside when they entered. Her dark and expressive eyes, framed by light, delicately smooth skin and thick, auburn hair set in long, stylish ringlets, watched Lyra in great curiosity as she dutifully went to her lord's side.
Mejhisk took his mistress by the waist and spoke affectionately in her ear. “Maryn, pet, this is 'Na Lyra. She has work to do on her gown. Please assist her in any way you can until I call for you.”
“Aye, my lord,” Maryn replied with a nod.
They were soon left to their own devices and the room would have been absolutely silent except for the soft, random, singsong mumbling of Jos'lie as she concentrated—another one of her little eccentricities.
“Er, welcome, 'Na Lyra,” Maryn finally said shyly. “I have heard much about you.”
Sensing a need to break the ice, Lyra gave Maryn her warmest smile. “Thank you, 'Na Maryn, but I fear that whatever your good lord may have told you, it was probably grossly exaggerated.”
Maryn relaxed noticeably. “You must already know my Sally well, then. The way he spoke, I was expecting the majestic queen o' knowledge and power.”
Lyra laughed. “Well, as you can plainly see, I am actually deplorably average.”
“But from what I have heard from others,” Maryn interjected hesitantly, “I was imagining you taller, and more brawny and … angrier.” She gave a nervous giggle.
Oh dear. Well, that was partly why she was here—to quell the rumors.
“… It was a stressful day for me and, unfortunately, I am afraid that many of us were not putting our best feet forward.”
Maryn nodded in understanding. “My lord said that you had been beaten before.”
“I am already beginning to forget it,” Lyra said with a smile. “I am much happier now in my new home.”
“Is that the honest truth, 'Na Lyra?” Maryn said, suddenly peering at her more earnestly.
“Uh, yes.”
“Because, you can tell me—one khar to another—if there is a problem. We all know that the first week in a new home can be … uncomfortable, even with the kindest o' men.”
“Oh! Oh, no. I am fine,” Lyra said, finally understanding. “Really. My lord is excruciatingly patient and gentle.”
The woman finally smiled. “That is believable knowing your J'Kor. My lord complains his friend is honorable to a fault.”
“That is mostly true.” The words were no lie.
Lyra showed Maryn the baby blue gown with the flowing skirt she was going to alter. The smart and suggestive party dress Maryn already wore clung voluptuously to her curves and swished about her legs softly as she moved. Even without the sash, Lyra's was going to cover a lot more than Maryn's did. Thank goodness.
They worked pleasantly together for the next hour and Lyra quickly grew to like Maryn's surprising quiet kindness and charm. Maryn showed Lyra how to use her cell-powered machine. It was, of course, much nicer than the few, old, manually operated ones the women of her settlement shared and in no time, Lyra was zipping along, making quick progress. Jos'lie, meanwhile, loved feeling like she was part of a ladies' sewing party. She alternated between asking “grown-up” questions about how her friends were coming along with their projects and sinking into more of her quiet, random singing to herself.
After a while, Lyra took a gander once more at the room's multitude of supplies, arranged in orderly fashion. “Is this room all for you, 'Na Maryn?” She cut another thread and readjusted her gown under the machine's foot.
“Aye. My lord has been generous enough to supply me with this space and a monthly allotment for material and other supplies. I learned to sew from my mother. She was a seamstress. Worked her fingers to the bone every day to support five children. When she got ill, my being sold at auction was a lifesaver for the family.” Maryn looked up with a grin. “Mostly I sew a lot o' clothes for them—keep them dressed. And it passes the time in between work sessions.”
Lyra paused. “Work sessions?”
“When my lord needs me, o' course. My job.”
“Oh.” So that was the terminology they used to describe it.
Maryn added, “I do have more time to myself these days, which is nice. For the first few years, my lord needed me several times a day, but now he is just down to twice.”
Lyra decided to change the subject. “Do you ever get to visit your family?”
“No. They live quite far away and my lord is so busy with his hunting and social schedule, he does no' have the time to take me. And even if khari'na were allowed to travel alone, Sally says he would miss me too much.” She gave a humble half smile, making Lyra frown at her work.
No doubt Mejhisk thought he was acting the part of a good lord, but like everyone else here, he was seriously lacking some obvious conscience about basic human rights.
“Mama Lyra, Mama Lyra!” Jos'lie jumped off her seat, holding her embroidery aloft. “Look this!”
A while later, the new collar and short, draping sleeves were finished. Lyra tried on the gown and got approving comments from both Maryn and Jos'lie. Then they left the sewing room to take care of Lyra's hair and makeup elsewhere.
Apparently, it was socially acceptable to arrive at parties almost an hour early. The home was fast filling with sharply dressed guests all mingling happily throughout, and in fact, Mejhisk must have anticipated this because warm-up music from the band was already carrying through the halls.
The room into which Maryn led them surprised Lyra. It was a bedroom, simply but nicely furnished with a dresser, a small vanity, a closet, and the single, small bed under a lace canopy in the corner.
“This is my private room,” Maryn offered as she sat Lyra down at the vanity.
“So, you sleep here?”
“Only when my lord has another woman over.”
Maryn stood behind Lyra and drew furrows through Lyra's wavy locks with her fingers. “You have very pretty hair. How shall we dress it up tonight?”
CHAPTER 8
He should have known.
There were at least a hundred people milling about Sal's grand ballroom—with more still coming. Sal did love parties. The good thing was that the Upghim clan had so many other genial guests to filter through, Kade had hardly seen hide nor hair of them since their arrival. Consequently, he didn't have much to do, himself, but enjoy the festive atmosphere among the many people with which he was already acquainted. He didn't ever tell his mother how many more of Sal's events he attended than her own.
The particularly statuesque figure of the back of an unknown woman suddenly traversed Kade's line of sight and drew his curiosity. The mystery woman was engaged in gay conversation with his friend, Lord Polwun and his khar,
who lived about ten miles closer to the city. Kade could only see her upper half through the crowd, but what he saw he liked. Very much.
The woman stood tall and elegant, her very long, nearly black hair hanging absolutely straight, glossy, and sensual all the way down her back. The curve from her ribs to waist was delightful and her creamy shoulders were framed in a whimsical, frothy fabric that gathered and billowing sexily over her skin, teasing the viewer to come in for a closer look.
Well, maybe I shall.
It wasn't like he was bound to faithfulness to Lyra, and getting out among these people again—his people—was clearing Kade's head as he had hoped. None of them would turn up a prudish, self-righteous nose at a little casual and suggestive interaction. He needed an ego boost, besides. The last several days had been hard, handling Lyra's continued rejec—reluctance. Call it reluctance. He knew she liked him, but to what extent? He also wasn't sure how long he would have to keep carefully wearing down her insufferable resolve.
Pushing patiently through the crowd of heads and shoulders toward the trio, Kade made ready to indulge in a little real flirting. The kind that wasn't necessarily hands off.
He was almost at the woman's shoulder, ready to break in with a quiet, alluring hello, when the woman laughed softly at a comment and shifted sideways. Holy Henna! Lyra! Upon seeing him, her face lit up with that smile of pleasure mixed with shyness that took Kade's breath away.
Her lips were colored a tantalizing red and her eyes were done with just the right amount of black eye liner and bold, dark shadowing to match. Now he recognized the light blue gown and sash she had brought that was somehow arranged so slyly and completely over the bodice, that it had become an integral part of the ensemble—the focal point, in fact. Her mature, seductive appearance suddenly made all the other khars in the room seem adolescent and cheap. Like they were trying too hard.
The Great Mother's bosom, maybe you are stalking her after all! He remembered his denial of it after “following” her into the bookstore and then showing up to buy her at the auction.
“My lord,” she said with a low curtsy.
He took her by the hand, noticing her nails had been redone in a deep pink polish, and gave it a warm kiss. Then Kade did a quick self-check so as not to appear too enthused in greeting the woman he owned.
“Kade!” Ehrguston Polwun greeted with a clap on his shoulder. “Sal introduced us to your new, delightful mistress here and she has just been entertaining us with the story o' her recent adventures in sheep wrestling and bathing with leeches.”
“Is that so, Ehrgust?” Kade took Lyra to him, gazing into her eyes. “And did she tell you how stubbornly that leech wanted to cling to her sweetness?”
“What I told them, my lord,” Lyra said, returning his gaze, “is that I squirmed like a baby while it had its teeth in me, until you so gallantly came to my rescue.”
Sal's amplified voice echoed through the room (with the help of the band's equipment), addressing his guests to kick off the night. Kade found this the perfect opportunity to arrange himself behind Lyra so he could whisper in her ear, “I thought I was supposed to approve the ensemble before the party.”
“Well,” she squirmed, “Lord Mejhisk came to fetch us and he said that his approval in fashion trumps yours so he made me come out and began introducing me to people. Sorry.”
Kade chuckled. “You are forgiven. Besides, you do look incredible.” He allowed himself a small kiss to her neck, enjoying her scent in his nostrils. If he wasn't going to spend the time frolicking with other women, he might as well milk this night of play acting for all it was worth. “I almost did no' recognize you.”
“Maryn helped me with my hair and makeup. I wanted to look the part better.”
With a glance down, Kade said, “And are those her shoes, too?”
“Yes,” she answered wryly. “I am back to teetering in nosebleed heels.” Then Lyra turned her head to him. “So, have I honored our deal?”
“You have honored one o' them,” he clarified. “The other one will take the rest o' the night to finish.” And in reminder, Kade let his hands slide meaningfully up her rib cage. Her next breath was larger than necessary.
Sal was making a joke about outshining even the ladies with his choice of garb when Jos'lie skipped over with a servant woman in tow. The servant had evidently been assigned to keep track of her. Jos'lie was positively beaming with so many pretty ladies and gentlemen at her Uncle Sal's that she nearly couldn't contain herself.
The band was finally allowed to strike up a first, official chord and Jos'lie tugged at Kade's arm, wanting him to dance with her. The song reverberating from the speakers was called, “Heat.” It was one of Sal's favorites, and a specialty of the band. But it was not for children. “Jos', baby, this one is for Mama Lyra and me,” he said. “But you sit tight right here and, I promise, the next one will be yours and mine. Okay?”
Jos'lie's smile left. She mumbled, “Okay,” and scuffed a foot forlornly against the floor.
Then Lyra added, “And I will dance the next two with you.” A quick glance to Kade asked for approval and he nodded. That would be just fine, because after that, he would take his right to monopolize his khar for the rest of the night.
So much for “playing the field.” This particular conquest was far too intriguing for him to let alone.
Lyra took in the hot, sultry rhythm while Kade led her onto the busy floor and her smile became unnaturally plastered. “I don't know this one at all,” she hissed through her teeth.
Kade grinned. “No' a problem. Only the chorus section has set moves and the tempo is slow enough I can talk you through it.” He made a circle round her and assumed the attitude of taking in what he had to work with, like a predator searching over his prey for the best place to begin. Lyra shook her head, both amused and embarrassed at the same time. “And as for the rest, Mistress J'Kor,” he said, returning to her front, “we improvise.”
Suddenly he had her, hip against hip, chest against chest, and knew her heart rate had just jumped sky high. But it only made Kade laugh. This woman felt so right in his arms, so natural, that as they danced, he forgot to not look like this was the most sensual few minutes he had yet had with her.
# # #
You're in character. You're in character. Lyra did her best to play along.
J'Kor never directed her to do anything lewd, but there was no doubt regarding the message of this music, and Lyra was excruciatingly aware of the many eyes on her; it didn't help her relax any. Sheesh! She had get a better grip on her nerves.
Hmm, how would she have danced this in private with Jon?
Suddenly everything clicked.
They twirled. They dipped. They flirted. He held her possessively, lustily, reminding all of his ownership, while she in turn regarded him with an intimacy that erased everyone else from existence. So committed did they each become to the act that by the end, Lyra was gazing into those eyes of his so deeply, she found herself about ready to bodily dive in.
Appreciative clapping erupted. The song was over, and in one startling moment, Lyra came to.
Whomping wetworms, what just happened? With forced (really forced) placidity, she maneuvered out of his grasp, imploring her heart to stop pounding, as she joined in the applause.
Jos'lie giggled in delight when her papa brought her Mama Lyra back and bowed low before his daughter, asking for a dance. Lyra intended to go blend in with the wallpaper, but she was suddenly spun about expertly then eased like an egg into the boiling pot into the waiting arms of Mejhisk. She laughed in surprise.
“Lyra, Lovely,” he schmoozed as he began to dance with her right there, “you looked a bit hesitant out there. Kade, unfortunately, is rusty as well, but luckily for you two, I happen to be a great teacher.” He gave her a twirl and they made progress toward the middle of the floor. “You shall both have to come back next week for some private lessons before I let you dance at any more o' my parties.”
�
�I appreciate the offer, my lord. I will ask if he is not too busy.”
“Oh, I am certain he will no' pass up the opportunity. The spell you cast over him at the auction appears to still be in effect.”
“My lord, if anything, I am the one under his spell,” she replied, playing up her part. “He has surprised me greatly with his patience and caring.”
“Oh, no' so, Lyra, darling. You are definitely the spell caster.” His determination was disturbing. That was not what she was going for. Was everyone else interpreting their relationship the same way, too? Mejhisk continued, “That is fine with me, mind you. It is good to see him happy again.” Smoothly, he danced her to an inconspicuous end of the floor. Then he suddenly went still, his eyes boring into her. “However,” he said quietly, “I know the influence o' a woman, Lyra. I like you, but I must say this once: Do no' take advantage o' my friend.”
Lyra was absolutely floored. “My lord, I seriously doubt your concern is valid. I have no such designs. And-and even if I did, my J'Kor would be too keen to not see right through me.”
The returning grin was of a melancholy sort. “Ah, but love is blind, Mistress J'Kor—a harmless fact when it has hit both people. But when only one o' the two suffers from its affliction …”
She looked him up and down. “Well, if what you are implying is true, I would consider myself the luckiest woman on Geniven. I would cherish his sentiment and guard it to my dying breath. But, my lord, you are greatly mistaken,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “He harbors no such worthy feelings toward me. He is a man. I am his khar. He's just … playing around.”
“Lyra, I have known Kade a long, long time.” Mejhisk brought her to dance position again and swirled her back toward the crowded floor, smiling at all his friends. “Do no' hurt him, my dear.”
Then just like that, he was back to his old self. Within a handful of seconds Mejhisk was covertly detailing for Lyra his personal summations of certain guests: “Lord and Lady Mawckwet—blessed with seven adorable children because she keeps forgetting to take her birth control.”; “Lord Tensgy and 'partner'—fancies himself an expert on everything, but the only thing he is really good at is sticking his foot in his mouth.” ; “The Lady Haht and daughter, Miss Brucy Haht. They pretend to be richer than they are so Miss Brucy can reel herself in a 'better' husband.”; and so on. Once Lyra got her mind to stop reeling over Mejhisk's crazy judgments, she was able to laugh and relax again.