Her Master's Servant (Lord and Master Book 2)

by Kait Jagger

  But she hated to see the worried look on her friend’s face, so she said encouragingly, ‘I really love what you’ve done in the anteroom.’

  ‘It was a struggle to get it ready in time, with no help from Arborage,’ Jem replied with tight lips, and again, Luna felt like she was directing this toward her. She was just opening her mouth to protest that she didn’t work here anymore when Kayla gave her a wide-eyed shake of her head.

  ‘She is completely bricking it,’ Kayla said moments later when she managed to pull Luna and Nancy aside. ‘She thinks the party is a failure and she’s let Rod down.’

  ‘But that’s silly,’ Luna protested as the strains of ‘Lady Marmalade’ began to play in the background.

  ‘Right,’ said Nancy, downing the rest of her drink and slamming the glass down on a nearby table. ‘Looks like it’s up to us, ladies.’

  With that, she strode off toward the dance floor, leaving Luna and Kayla staring in her wake. Only to turn back after five yards and bark, ‘Well, come on!’ Continuing on her way, she grabbed a tall, weedy fellow dressed incongruously in a Tommen outfit and directed, ‘You, dance with her over there,’ pointing to Kayla.

  Next, Nancy collared the man talking with Rod. Sweeping her hand toward Luna, she said, ‘This lady needs a dance partner.’ Luna smiled apologetically at the man, who was dressed in a Nazi uniform with fake blood and brains plastered all over the right side of his face (she later learned that Stefan had stipulated attendees could only come dressed as Nazis if they had their heads blown off). To his credit, he clicked his heels and offered Luna his hand.

  Nancy found her own partner on the edge of the dance floor, drinking a lager with his mates. One of the garden staff, if Luna wasn’t mistaken.

  ‘I don’t dance,’ he immediately demurred, holding his hands up. Only for Nancy to reach up and clasp one of them. ‘I’ll teach you,’ she assured him, backing toward the floor, coaxing him along with her.

  Midway through the song Nancy’s ploy began to work as others moved toward the floor and the mood in the room shifted up a gear. By the time Patti LaBelle segued improbably into Blur, there were several other couples dancing. Not Stefan, Luna could see; he was talking with her other closest friend on staff, Arborage’s press officer Caitlin Murray. His eyes swung in her direction and she imagined, for a moment, that he was looking at her. But then the moment passed.

  For the better part of the next hour, Luna danced pretty much constantly, either with Jem’s sisters or with Kayla and Nancy, or with the surprising number of men who approached to ask her. She began to realise that there was a reason for this when she saw Kayla pointing one in her direction.

  When she’d finished dancing with him, Luna grabbed two glasses of champagne and headed over to Kayla, who was leaning against a large, decorative tree trunk, toying with her green braids.

  ‘Hey,’ said Luna, handing Kayla a glass.

  ‘Hey,’ said Kayla.

  They stood and sipped, watching a lake creature dance by with a housemaid. Stefan was dancing too now, with one of the teenagers from earlier. Forcing herself to keep her eyes on him, instead of succumbing to her overpowering desire to turn away, Luna enquired, ‘You up to something, missus?’

  Kayla studied her black talons and said laconically, ‘Might be.’

  ‘Because so far tonight I’ve danced with a Nazi, a butler, two Marquesses and an Anthony.’

  ‘Make that three Marquesses,’ Kayla grinned as Roland sashayed his way over to Luna and offered his hand. Pursing her lips at Kayla, Luna allowed Roland to usher her out to the dance floor, right next to Stefan and his dance partner, who looked like a) those heels were really starting to hurt and b) she was imagining herself as the next Mrs Stefan Lundgren.

  And it felt… okay, dancing next to him. It helped that Roland was such an ebullient partner, frequently leaning in to shout something in Luna’s ear or laugh with her at a shared joke. The dress helped too. Despite her misgivings about the colour, something about the way it fit, with its deep, low back, tight skirt and form-fitting bodice, changed the way she moved, emboldening her in interesting ways.

  Again, she imagined that Stefan was watching her, just as she was him. She imagined, though she didn’t know for sure, that he had been watching her all night. She swore she’d felt his eyes upon her.

  She acknowledged to herself, of course she did, that it could just be wishful thinking on her part. A likelihood that seemed confirmed when the music cut out and Isabelle Wellstone strode out onto the raised dais at the end of the marquee, microphone in hand, and gestured for Stefan to join her.

  Lady Wellstone’s youngest daughter looked absolutely stunning in her pink flapper outfit, a perfect facsimile of the dress worn by the dead Marchioness in Remainers. Studying Isabelle’s lush mouth painted into a cupid’s bow and her blond hair arranged in glossy waves under a jewel encrusted headband, Luna wished that she herself had dressed as something, anything else. Stefan came to join his second cousin, throwing his arm over her shoulder, and Isabelle slid her hand under his jacket and around his waist, tucking her beautiful head into his chest. The perfect couple.

  Taking the microphone, Stefan announced, ‘Ladies, gentlemen… decapitated Nazis.’ A laugh from the crowd. ‘My cousin Isabelle and I and the entire crew from Rod Studios would like to thank you for coming tonight. We have had quite a job, Isabelle, Rod, Jem and I, judging the costumes this evening.’ Handing the microphone back to Isabelle, Stefan reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper.

  Motioning to him, Isabelle said, ‘Of course, I think we can all agree on who the best Marquess is,’ to more laughs from the crowd and a scattering of applause. Then she leaned into him, taking his arm, her head touching his as she made a show of studying the list of winners with him.

  It was too much. Luna turned away, stomach churning, and walked through the crowd, appalled that the sight of them together had this effect on her. She tried her best to shove Stefan and Isabelle into her apothecary chest, practically tasting the viscous green goo that oozed out from the edges of a drawer that refused to shut. She was almost choking on it by the time she entered the anteroom.

  The air was fresher out there, though, and after a minute her breathing returned to normal. She felt a nudge at her elbow and turned to find Nancy holding a shot out toward her. Nancy looked at Luna. Luna looked at Nancy. And downed her shot.

  They stayed in the anteroom while the costume winners were announced, looking at the video screens and various Remainers paraphernalia on display. As often happened at parties Nancy attended, like moths to a flame, others began to filter into the room. She and Luna were talking to the young man from the coat check desk, looking at the map of Arborage on his tablet with him, when Kayla shouted, ‘Lou! Luna, get over here!’

  She was standing with a hirsute, chubby lake creature in front of one of the video screens, pointing avidly at something on the screen. As Luna walked over to join them, Kayla laughed, ‘Recognise anything?’

  The image on the screen was of the character Elle walking through the formal gardens, shotgun in hand, Nazi on the run in front of her. Luna looked at it, then at Kayla. Her fellow lake creature, who Luna recognised as one of Rod’s designers, had an uncomfortable expression on his face and his plump cheeks were bright red.

  ‘Um—’ Luna began quizzically.

  ‘It’s your arse, Luna!’ Kayla exclaimed. ‘Scott here has used your bottom as a model.’

  Luna was speechless. She turned to Scott and lifted an eyebrow.

  ‘I, uh, well… you used to come to the office to see Jem, and you had this black skirt…’ Scott’s voice was cracking and beads of sweat were forming on his forehead.

  ‘Yes,’ Luna said, watching Elle’s posterior as she moved into the maze. Kayla pointed a remote at the screen and froze the image. ‘I know the skirt you’re talking about.’ She knew it because there it was, her black pencil skirt. And her arse, apparently.

  ‘They say,�
� Kayla gasped, ‘they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.’

  ‘It was meant with the greatest respect,’ Scott added earnestly. ‘An homage.’

  ‘To your arse!’ Kayla hooted, clutching her side. Despite herself, Luna felt her lips twitching.

  So Scott got off easy, in the end – even when he explained the lengths he and his colleagues had gone to in order to take surreptitious photos of her from behind. It was all so absurd, Luna had to see the funny side. She even tolerated it when, after Kayla had insisted on taking a snap of them standing in front of his handiwork, Scott’s hand lingered on her hip somewhat longer than it should have.

  ‘Stefan!’ Kayla cried, collaring him as he walked past with Isabelle. ‘Stefan, look!’

  ‘How can I help you, Kayla?’ he said graciously, glancing at Luna, his eyes dropping briefly to Scott’s hand, now on her upper thigh. And Luna imagined, though again, she couldn’t say for sure, that his lips thinned.

  Kayla swept her hand toward the screen and said, ‘Anything look familiar to you?’

  Luna wasn’t about to stick around for this, particularly with Isabelle standing there pointedly blanking her despite the fact they’d known each other since childhood. Looking down at the hairy lake creature whose hand was now firmly on her butt, she said, ‘Let’s dance.’

  As she and Scott moved back into the main tent, she heard Kayla explode with laughter again, and Stefan observe blandly, ‘Now that you mention it, I do see a resemblance.’

  Chapter Five

  Looking back in the years that followed, Luna saw this moment as the tipping point, the exact moment in time when the party started to spin out of control.

  Over the next several songs, she didn’t need Kayla to procure dance partners for her. Scott quickly confirmed with his mates that their secret was out, and suddenly she had a steady stream of lake creatures lining up to partner her. Or her arse, as the case may have been, because as the evening descended into downright drunkenness, liberties were being taken all over the party tent. And who was she to quibble about a bit of handsy-ness when the party was going so well?

  Even Jem finally relaxed and started to enjoy herself, sidling up to Luna in a break between songs and clasping her arms around her waist. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said, tilting her face up to smile at Luna. ‘I am soooo happy you’re here. You look beautiful, by the way.’

  Luna shook her head. ‘I would have to come dressed as the same character as Isabelle, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘You’re worth ten of her,’ Jem said vehemently. Like Luna, Jem had known the Marchioness’s youngest daughter since grammar school and had formed deeply entrenched negative views of her. Jem’s boyfriend and business partner Rod approached, enquiring in an accent that was equal parts Mancunian and Kenyan, ‘Can I get you girls a drink?’

  Before Luna could reply, the opening strains of the next song began to play and she felt a shudder go down her spine.

  ‘Fuck me,’ said Jem. ‘It’s the Backstreet Boys.’

  Jem had good reason to be dismayed. The defunct American boy band was a shared childhood obsession of Nancy and Kayla’s, so much so that during their first year at the University of Manchester they forced new roommates Jem and Luna to enter a Halloween dance contest performing to this, the band’s most successful anthem.

  Surveying the tent anxiously, Jem said, ‘Let’s get out of here before they—’

  ‘Jem!’ Nancy yelled from the dance floor. ‘Jem, get out here!’

  It was no exaggeration to say that the expression that came over Jem’s face then was one of sheer, blind panic. Nancy had been a vicious taskmaster during their endless rehearsals for the dance contest, and as her chosen partner Jem came in for much of her vitriol. Luna, in the meantime, had had a more helpful partner in Kayla, who materialised from the loos at that very moment, running to clutch Nancy’s hand in joint delirium.

  ‘Come on, babe, come on!’ she shouted, waving urgently to Luna.

  Luna sighed. They weren’t going to get out of this. Ah, God, Kayla was actually stood in the centre of the dance floor now, howling along with Brian Littrell to some of the worst lyrics in pop music history, heralding the Backstreet Boys’ mission to ensure that the entire world rocked its body.

  Truth be told, Luna had a secret soft spot for this song. In addition to being an actress and singer, Kayla was an accomplished dancer; it was no exaggeration to say that over the years, she’d taught Luna every decent dance move she knew, and their rehearsals for the dance contest had marked the start of their friendship.

  ‘The choreography for this song is actually really simple,’ Luna remembered Kayla saying reassuringly as they sat watching the video together in their dorm room. When Luna looked dubious, Kayla laughed and said, ‘You can do it, I promise.’

  Sure enough, as she and Jem joined Kayla and Nancy and a few others on the dance floor, it was like riding a bike, going through their old moves, Kayla quietly prompting her in time to the music.

  ‘And hop. And twist. And shuffle. To the left. And bend. And lift. And shake. Your lit-tle-butt.’

  Nancy was being slightly less supportive of Jem, screeching, ‘Move, bitch!’ as the number transitioned into Luna’s favourite bit, where they coupled off into a swing dance, just like in the video. Kayla twirled her around the floor (because of course Luna and Jem were the ‘girls’ in the routine, and Kayla and Nancy were both Brian Littrell, apparently), Luna noticing to her complete amazement that some of the other dancers were also mimicking the moves in the video. Who knew the Backstreet Boys had such a UK fan base?

  She saw Rod standing next to Stefan, gesticulating toward them animatedly. And Luna knew, she could tell from the massive grin on his face, that he was encouraging Stefan to keep watching. Their performance featured a ‘money shot’, Kayla having decided during rehearsals that they needed to make the routine more ‘sex-u-al’ even though, as Luna privately observed to Jem, ‘This is literally the least sexual song ever.’

  In the video, the boy band members were all dressed as horror figures, the mummy, a wolf man, and the like. There was one brief shot of one of the singers, dressed as a vampire, hungering over a beautiful model’s throat, and it was this that inspired Kayla to add a sapphic element to their routine.

  They were approaching that part of the song now, where the music slowed down just before the big crescendo. Just as they’d done at university, Kayla and Nancy reeled Luna and Jem out, then back into their arms, clasping them covetously. Kayla ran her hands up Luna’s thighs and over the curve of her waist. Then took Luna’s head in both hands, abruptly jerking it to the side, exposing her neck.

  ‘We’re doing the PG-13 version, right?’ Luna could hear Jem saying. ‘Because my mother is watching.’

  The music faded to almost nothing. Kayla’s talons drew along Luna’s neck, and her voice filled Luna’s ear: ‘He’s watching you.’ Her hand slithered up Luna’s ribs. ‘Make him suffer.’

  Luna did as she was bidden, allowing her head to fall back on Kayla’s shoulder and her eyelids to slide shut. And as the song began to rev back up again, Kayla placed her hand on Luna’s breast, bared her teeth… and sunk them into Luna’s neck.

  ‘Ow! You fucking— Ow!’ Jem cried.

  ‘Ah. Ahhhhh,’ Luna whimpered in pain.

  Then the four of them sprung apart, hurling themselves into the final frenzied portion of the routine. The floor was literally writhing with dancers now and sweat was beginning to drip down Luna’s back. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the entire membership of Rod Studios’ lake creature posse standing at the edge of the dance floor, mouths agape. As the chorus reached its closing bars, she shouted to the other dancers, ‘Stand back! Stand back!’ For, like Brian Littrell, Kayla was an ex-gymnast, and her final move was a showstopper.

  ‘Rock your body!’ the crowd was chanting, hands in the air, forming a wide circle around Kayla, who, as the music reached its final, ear-splitting crescendo, crouched, swun
g her elbows behind her, and performed a perfect backflip.

  The room erupted, Jem’s mother and sisters screaming and whistling from the sidelines and Kayla’s fellow lake creatures rushing the floor to congratulate her. ‘God, you are Brian,’ Nancy shouted to Kayla as Luna and Jem walked away, clutching their necks.

  Rod was waiting for them with two glasses of champagne. Placing his arm around Jem’s waist, he growled, ‘If you weren’t dressed as a schoolboy…’ then added, ‘You girls won that contest at uni, didn’t you?’

  ‘Too right we won it,’ Luna nodded.

  ‘We dominated that contest,’ said Jem.

  Luna was glad, then, that she had come, standing with Jem and Rod, chatting and reminiscing. Stefan had turned away to talk to someone else and she was stood back to back with him, close enough to feel the heat of him, her arm brushing his shoulder as she lifted her chignon off her neck to let the sweat there evaporate.

  ‘…of course,’ Rod was saying to her, ‘we owe all this to you. And Stefan. Oi, Stefan!’

  Stefan turned around and Rod reiterated, ‘I was just saying to Luna, this is all thanks to you two.’

  Luna and Stefan simultaneously began to demur.

  ‘I didn’t really do anything,’ Luna disagreed as Stefan said, ‘You have only yourselves to thank.’ Realising they were stumbling over each other to refuse credit, they looked at each other and laughed. It felt entirely natural then, when Stefan put a casual arm around Luna’s shoulder, so she responded by putting hers around his waist.

  Maybe, she thought for a brief millisecond, this is all okay. Maybe we can be friends.

  Her body, however, disagreed. It didn’t view Stefan’s body as a ‘friend’ and instead responded as it always did when next to his. It was involuntary, she swore it was, but for just a moment it melted into his. This time there was no imagining his reaction. His hand tightened on her shoulder, pulling her against him even as she attempted to correct herself, to turn this back into a friendly gesture rather than… God help her, she could actually feel the swift, silent communication between their nervous systems.