Kris Longknife: Defender

by Mike Shepherd

  Kris nodded agreement.

  “In that time, I’ve come to love you. To only want the very best for you. Believe it or not, from where I’ve stood, stuck on the sidelines, I’ve done my best for you.”

  “I believe you, Jack.”

  “Honey, I think you love me as much as I love you. It’s hard to believe a beautiful, powerful, competent woman like you can love me, but you’ve given me a few hints that it just might be possible.”

  “Very possible. Almost certainly. No. Definitely,” Kris said.

  “But you’re a Longknife. To some people, that means wealth and power. To other folks it means danger. In all cases, it means target. May I point out that for the last four years, I’ve grown as good at making them miss me as I have at making sure they miss you.”

  “And you haven’t gotten nearly the medals you deserve for that,” Kris said.

  “I’d swap all the medals in the book for a simple gold band to put on your finger.”

  “Jack, you’re too good to believe.”

  “And I thought you were the one too good for me to ever find.”

  “Most men find me, get a good look at what happens around me, and run, not walk, for the door. Or pick one of the girls around me.”

  “Yes, I know,” Jack said. “I’ve had to sweat a couple of them in the last few years. Fortunately for me, they all bolted.”

  “Fortunate for you, but a bit hard on me.”

  “I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”

  “No it didn’t. I know what you meant.” Kris used the hem of her muumuu to wipe her eyes. “Jack, I’m exhausted. Could we go to bed?”

  “Yes, honey. Do you need a lift?”

  “No, just give me a hand up and a strong shoulder to lean on.”

  “Always, love.”

  Even in the dark, they had no problem finding their cottage. The moon was up, the stars were bright, and the ocean gave its own green light. The only light in the cottage was a small lit candle. Kris found that whoever had lit the candle had also tossed a rather skimpy nightgown on one side of the bed. Jack found soft sleeping shorts on his, and dismissed himself to the bathroom to change.

  It took Kris just a second to toss the muumuu over her head and slip into the gown. It didn’t quite go halfway to her knees, and the top was so open she could easily pull it aside if she didn’t toss it off entirely.

  Well, if elves were appearing and disappearing, she might have them do some wash. She left the muumuu on the porch chair and tumbled into bed.

  A moment later, Jack appeared and blew out the candle. He stepped outside, very likely to leave his shorts and shirt on the same chair with Kris’s muumuu.

  Kris had pulled the covers up a bit, not enough to turn herself into an unapproachable mummy, but Jack settled above the covers, his front to her back. He slipped an arm over her shoulder that easily managed to miss what she claimed for breasts.

  “Don’t you want to do something more tonight?” she asked. She knew the answer to that. She could feel him through the thin blanket and even thinner gown.

  “I don’t think so, dear. It’s been a long day. You’ve been through a lot, and let’s face it, you’re exhausted. You need your sleep a lot more than you need anything else.”

  “No, I don’t,” Kris said . . . through a yawn.

  “I rest my case,” Jack said.

  “But what I’m feeling from you isn’t at rest.”

  “You want me to roll over?” Jack asked, ever the gentle gentleman.

  “Please don’t. I want you close.”

  “And I always will be,” he said.

  Kris settled comfortably in Jack’s protective arms. She remembered something about checking in with her team. Letting them know about something. She was asleep before she could remember what it was.

  12

  Kris came awake the next morning to the sound of birds chirping, the roar of the ocean, and the smell of fresh coffee.

  She tossed her blanket aside, got her feet on the floor, and took it all in.

  The windows of the cottage were wide open, which allowed for the birdsong and the ocean roar. Jack sat at the small table in the room, a carafe of the delicious-smelling coffee beside two mugs and a large plate covered with an assortment of breakfast rolls.

  “Hi, sleepyhead. You better get over here. There are two each of these buns, but some of them are really delicious, and as much as I love you, I’m not sure that extends to leaving one for you.”

  “Keep your mitts off my buns, Marine,” Kris said, and raced, or at least staggered to the table. Jack poured a cup of coffee and passed it to her as she sat down.

  “Thanks,” Kris said, sipping the hot, bitter liquid. “Coffee beans were in the survival pod?”

  “No,” Nelly said, “but one of the crew worshipped the stuff and had a huge supply of his own natural beans. He saved half a dozen of each variety and planted them. It turned out that the Alwans love the stuff, and it was one of the humanity’s first items of exchange. It’s still a prime trade item.”

  “That didn’t happen overnight,” Kris said.

  “No. Amanda had supper with the Historian last night, who told her it took nearly twenty years to go from the original few trees to enough that they could start selling a product while still planting more trees. And yes, the cacao seeds were part of the survival pod, but getting a chocolate industry going took a whole lot more time. It’s only in the last forty years or so anyone has been able to eat the stuff.”

  “What’s the Alwan take on it?” Jack asked.

  “They hate it.”

  Kris eyed the sticky buns, spotted the singles, and reached for one. Jack gave her a sad look. She tore it in half, shared, and munched hers. “Hey, this is good.”

  “You want the other half?”

  “No, you can have it. A gentleman deserves some rewards. Okay, Nelly, have we heard anything from Captain Drago?”

  “He’s sending down a quarter of the crew. While you did forget to mention to Granny Rita the need for increasing the beer supply, either she remembered how thirsty Sailors can be or Sergeant Bruce reminded her. Initial report is that the town and local resorts are not at risk of being drunk dry. Also, baby girls continue to survive here at a higher proportion to boys, so the population is about forty-nine percent to fifty-one percent. A few religious groups are locking up their girls, but most of the female population are enjoying a chance to meet the crew. There are also no problems with our gals meeting their boys though there were a few heads broken, in a light fashion. It seemed someone started the rumor that female Marines were easy.”

  “But it’s not a problem, Skipper,” Sal said from Jack’s neck. “The local keepers of the peace seemed to think the guys got what they deserved, and it doesn’t look like the rumor is being taken seriously anymore.”

  “Strange how evidence to the contrary kills a rumor,” Kris said.

  “When it’s a good kick to the groin,” Nelly added.

  Kris leaned over and gave Jack a kiss. “I like my men gentlemen.” She felt a breeze and realized the whole abbreviated top of her gown had fallen open.

  Jack grinned. “And this gentleman likes the view.”

  Kris settled back in her chair and adjusted her gown to remove the view. “You’re going to have to work for any more sightseeing, lover boy.”

  Jack gave her a sad shrug, with plenty of grin in it. “The rest of the reports are no more informative. They’ve just scratched the surface.”

  “Nelly, how’s the dictionary going?”

  “Most of our people are talking to humans, but the five Alwans have been helpful. My translation of your talk had a few howlers in it, and I’m correcting those, but only a hundred or so new words have come in.”

  “More will. Those howlers, how bad were they?” Kris asked.

  �
�Well, I called the alien ships that attacked us a particular kind of bean the Alwans like to eat. The picture pretty much overpowered my mistranslation, but some of the Alwans who are against action are rubbing it in on those who are for us.”

  Kris shrugged. “The pictures speak for themselves. ‘There are none so blind as have eyes but will not see,’ as Father so often said.” Kris considered everything and found it to her liking.

  “Nelly, Sal, you monitor the net, keep adding words, and let us know if anything important comes up. Other than that, you will ignore what goes on here today.”

  “But Kris, I’ve never had a chance to study at close hand the mating ritual of humans.”

  “Nelly, you have an off button, and I know how to use it.”

  “You are heartless, mean, and bind the mouth of the ox that grinds the grain.”

  “I come by it naturally. I understand Granny Rita is a certified tyrant.”

  “Oh, about that, Kris,” Nelly said. “Abby won’t say who told her, but there were mutinies in the early days. Food riots. People stealing supplies. Granny hung a few.”

  “Now I begin to understand you, Your Highness,” Jack said with a bow of his head.

  “Granny is not all sweetness and light,” Kris said.

  “Enough work, young lady. I’m going swimming.”

  Jack was up from the table in a flash, grabbed something from his closet, and disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged, he was wearing . . . very little.

  He did a muscleman thing, first with his right arm, then with his left, showing Kris that there was practically no back to his suit. Then he grabbed a towel and headed for the beach.

  “I’ll follow you in a second,” Kris said, and thoughtfully sipped some more of her coffee. Then she headed over to her closet, rummaged up the tiniest excuse for a suit, and pulled her gown over her head.

  Now she remembered why she only bought sexy underwear once. This little bit of nothing didn’t feel all that great between her legs even after she adjusted the strings.

  This suit was not meant for a six-foot-tall woman.

  The top didn’t cover all that much, but there wasn’t all that much to cover. Still, she had to let it out about as far as it would go. Thinking of as far as she could go got her almost into another fit of giggling, but she held her breath.

  Grabbing a towel, she followed Jack to the beach.

  There, she laid her towel down next to him. He seemed lost in quiet meditation, or maybe the warm-morning sun was turning him lazy.

  She stretched out beside him, found a hand to hold on to, and discovered the morning sun could make her lazy, too.

  A while later, Jack said. “You know, you can get a bad sunburn.”

  “I didn’t bring any sunscreen.”

  “On the porch, where I found the rolls, there was a jar of sunscreen. Hold still while I put some on you.”

  Kris let go of Jack’s hand and prepared to hold still.

  He started by kissing her neck.

  “That’s not putting sunscreen on me.”

  “Yes, but I’m shading you so you won’t burn.”

  “Anything you say,” was out of Kris’s mouth before she realized it.

  Jack began rubbing something cool and moist on her neck. Then he undid the ties of her string top, spread them on the towel beside her, and began to shower kisses on her back before covering it with moist coolness.

  Kris purred.

  And wondered how far down he’d go. This teeny-weeny bikini left a lot open to the sun . . . and Jack’s roving fingers.

  When Jack had finished coating the small of her back, he surprised her.

  He switched to her feet.

  “Your résumé said nothing about great foot massages,” Kris said.

  “Maybe because the personnel forms never ask the really important questions?” Jack said.

  “Probably because there’s a law against it.”

  “Talk to your dad about that next time you see him.”

  Kris considered that idea and chose to stay concentrated in the moment. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to quit that.”

  “Ah, but from where I’m kneeling, there’s so much of you that could burn in the next half hour.”

  “Hmm, you have a point. You are a wise man whom I respect. Use your own judgment.”

  And he did. Slowly, he worked his way up first one leg to the knee, then the other. Then he passed above the knee and was soon in those sweet spots on her thigh that sent shivers all up Kris’s spine and drew reactions from parts of her that good girls weren’t supposed to feel.

  She moaned.

  “I’ll take that to mean I’m doing this right.”

  “Very right.”

  As he got to her buttocks, he again untied her strings, folded them and the bit of cloth up so it seemed perched right on the space between each cheek, and kissed her thoroughly before massaging her muscles.

  Kris weakly melted onto the blanket.

  Then he covered her with sunscreen.

  “All done,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Kris managed to mutter.

  “I figure you’re good for about a half hour. Then I’ll do your front.”

  Kris wondered how fast a half hour could go.

  They listened to the lapping of the waves and enjoyed the feel of the sun, the salty tang of the sea air. They were subdued, as befitted low tide. Some seabirds flew lazily around them, as if waiting for them to offer tidbits. Next to the TOTAL NUDITY NOT ALLOWED sign had been one that said, PLEASE DON’T FEED THE BIRDS.

  Kris suspected neither sign was paid all that much at-tention.

  Sun-caressed, Kris began to fear she’d fall asleep before her half hour was up. Almost, she asked Nelly what time it was, but she’d sworn that Nelly was only for nightly reports or an emergency recall from Captain Drago, and she would not let that little voyeur into these moments.

  “Jack, I have a question.”

  “If I have an answer, it’s yours,” he said.

  “Back in the lodge, once Penny left with Grampa Trouble and the colonel, we couldn’t wait to get out of our clothes and . . . you know.”

  “Yes, I have a very fond memory of . . . you know.”

  “Then, when we arrived here, I sat on the bed, and you headed for the beach. After supper, I was in bed, and you slept above the covers. Is something wrong?”

  “After the rubdown I just gave you, you need to ask?”

  “Can a girl say she’s confused?”

  Jack seemed to give a lot of thought to that, then he reached for her hand and began running his fingers around her palm.

  If it was possible, Kris melted even more.

  “I was desperate for you when I first saw you on Wardhaven,” he said.

  “So was I,” Kris admitted.

  “And when we finally got to make love, there was desperation all over it. People wanted to rip us apart again. We were about to storm Longknife Towers and maybe get killed. We desperately needed each other.”

  “I agree,” Kris said. “There was a lot of desperation to go around.”

  “I want love to be the first and last thought you have of me, not desperation. Nor exhaustion, as was our main companion yesterday.”

  “I can’t argue with you there. Restful nights’ sleeps have been few and far between.”

  “How was last night?”

  “Deliciously restful and relaxing.”

  “Then I rest my case. Next time we make love, I want love to be first, middle, and last on your mind, and speaking of time, I think you should be done on that side,” Jack said.

  “I think maybe I am,” Kris said, and rolled over . . . and totally out of her modesty. Strings fell where they would.

  Jack grinned. “My. Where to start?”

 
From the bulge in his tiny swimsuit, Kris suspected she knew where he’d like to start. Come to think of it, that was where she’d like to start.

  He bent to kiss her lips, then slowly worked his way down to her throat. Kris was melting, but she found the strength to reach for him, hold him, stroke his back.

  “Hold it, girl. I’ve got a job to do. I must protect you from the sun. No distracting your chief of security.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Kris pouted, not at all contrite. “I’m just a poor lonely Sailor trying to have a good time.”

  “I’ll show you a good time, but don’t rush it. We have all the time in the world.”

  Or until Captain Drago sounds recall. But Kris didn’t say that.

  Now, while his fingers covered her throat with sunscreen, Jack’s lips had found her breasts. For something so small, there was nothing small about the pleasure his kisses filled her with. Maybe tiny breasts weren’t all that important.

  At least not when Jack was around.

  Jack spent a long time there. Kris might almost think he was enjoying the taste of her little sunny-side ups as much as she was delighting in his tasting.

  With no thought, she found that she was trying to wrap her legs around Jack.

  Ever so gently, he pushed them back on the blanket and somehow managed to have a finger stray between them. A shiver went up her spine, and she did a lot more than moan.

  “Would you please hurry? I don’t know how much more of this I can stand.”

  “I’ve got to protect all of you from the sun,” Jack said, and once again, switched to her feet. Thank God, he moved quickly from feet to knee, then above.

  And then between.

  Kris trembled. Kris moaned. Kris enjoyed, and Kris so much wanted more.

  “Now a good security chief always keeps his primary covered.” And suddenly Jack was above her, blocking out the sun. He was atop her and sliding slowly inside her, and Kris wrapped herself around him.

  He protected her from the sun vigilantly. And vigorously. Then the sun exploded in her, and she drifted off in space and time.