“Brett Butler.” At least her voice sounded normal.
“Captain Stephen Brandon, at your service.” He bowed slightly. “Lord Brandon, actually.” He blushed.
“Captain and Lord? Shall I call you Captain Lord, or…” she smiled up at him, quirking her mouth to one side, the only part of her body she could seem to move.
“I would hope you would call me Stephen.” He held his body stiffly, as if he couldn’t move also.
Was he a victim of the same paralyzing ray affecting her? Like nothing she’d ever experienced, its intensity frightened her.
Someone cleared his throat, breaking whatever spell held her and this captain captive.
“Are these your troops?” She indicated the others behind him.
He turned just the smallest bit. “This is my cousin, Captain Johann Stuart, and his wife, Lady Helena Stuart.” She nodded to them in turn.
“And you, Lord Brandon, which of the lovely ladies here is your wife?” She gestured to the mingling crowd as her heart thudded wildly.
“It is my sad state to be unmarried.” His full lips twisted as he gave her a slight bow. “However, I am hoping to rectify the condition soon.” Was he flirting?
“Oh, you’re engaged?” Of course he would be.
“No, Miss Butler, merely hoping.” He stared into her eyes, and a flush spread over her body as his gaze heated her. He was definitely flirting. Thank God.
“Good luck in your hunt, Lord Brandon. It looks as if there’s plenty of game afoot.” Brett waved her hand at the milling crowd, determined to keep him off guard and guessing about her interest in him.
Helena Stuart moved forward. “We’re so glad to meet you. I must say, I’m fascinated by your outfit. It’s so unusual. Is it real leather?” Lady Helena appeared slightly younger than her husband, and Brett found her youthful enthusiasm completely charming. Jealousy stabbed at Brett. How do these women do it? All the effortless grace.
“Yes, it’s leather. It was a proud steer which gave his all for my couture.” Brett smiled at her.
“You mean you selected the hide yourself?” Johann asked.
“Actually, I raised the steer. It’s the only way to insure an undamaged hide,” Brett answered.
Lady Helena put her hand to her mouth. Johann and Stephen glanced at each other.
“Was it hard to raise it only to have it killed?” Lady Helena asked as sadness filled her soft blue eyes.
“Yes, I cried the entire day. But the suit came out so fine, it did Brenham proud.”
“Brenham?” Lady Helena’s head tilted.
“It was my steer’s name. I honor him by wearing this.” Brett moved her hand up and down along the jacket feeling the suede.
She noticed their puzzled looks.
“On Earth, to kill an animal and not use its resources to their fullest is merely a sin. It should be a crime. His head was mounted, and it hangs in our library back at our ranch on Earth. We stocked the freezers of the local homeless shelters with his meat.” She looked at Lord Brandon again.
“Did you say ranch?” Johann Stuart spoke.
Brett turned to him and nodded. “Yes, we have a ranch. It was my mother’s family home. She was born there, as was I. Lately I’ve only gone there between assignments, now I’m traveling with my father. I miss the ranch. It’s where I call home.”
The conversation stalled, and Brett scanned the room. Her measured look struck a familiar chord in Stephen, but he shook it off. He followed her gaze. Ambassador Butler signaled her with a short movement of his hand by his side.
Stephen recognized the signal all right. The new ambassador was a military man, but his daughter? He watched as Brett nodded ever so slightly. Well, it made sense she’d understand those hand signals if her father served, after all.
Her attention returned to their group. “I think it’s our turn. Perhaps I’ll see you later. I understand there will be dancing after the ceremonies.” Her gaze briefly caught Stephen’s.
“Will you save a dance for me, Miss Butler?” he asked as she started to turn away.
She paused. Looking back over her shoulder, she nodded. “Sure, see you later, Lord Brandon.” She strode off to her father’s side to take his arm, leaving the little group staring after her.
•●•
“I’m just dying to see what she’s brought for William and Beatrice,” said Lady Helena. “Let’s watch the ceremony.”
Stephen led them as he followed Brett and the ambassador into the throne room. The new ambassadors from each of the five planets in the chain extending from Earth into deep space were being presented to King William and Queen Beatrice.
The only planet not represented here was Euphrates Prime, colonized by secular Muslims nearly two centuries ago. Their attendance wasn’t missed or welcome, and probably never would be. Thirty years ago, extreme religious fervor swept the planet, and they broke off all communication and diplomatic contact with the other planets, declaring them infidels. Five years after their self-imposed exile, they began a jihad, launching a space fleet to attack their three closest neighbors: Earth, Alpha V, and New Commonwealth.
Even thinking about the bastards who killed his father kicked Stephen’s heart into high gear as the muscles in his neck tightened, darkening his mood. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind and relaxed his shoulders. Tonight was supposed to be enjoyable, not depressing.
Stephen and his friends stood to the side of the raised dais where the thrones sat, giving them a clear view of the presenters and the gifts. Only about thirty people were in the room now, either being introduced to the king, on their way out, or waiting their turn.
The ambassador from Xui Lu, the hypertech planet, bowed to King William and Queen Beatrice. His long black hair hung in a braid down the back of his red silk jacket. Matching red silk pants, heavily embroidered with gold and silver threads completed his ensemble. His wife’s floor-length gown, also red silk, with changing patterns due to holographic threads embedding in the fabric, glittered as she glided across the floor.
A spectacle no doubt, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Miss Butler.
•●•
Brett scanned the room, placing everyone and taking notes on her surroundings, a habit she’d had ingrained from years of military training.
Two dozen of William’s personal Imperial guards, dressed in the red and black uniforms of the monarchy, stood at attention on either side of the thrones. They were a formidable-looking group, each bearing not only a sword, but also a Taser sidearm. She’d hate to have to go up against them, armed or not.
In addition to the line of guards, a fully armed personal guard stood just to the side of each throne as additional protection for the king and queen.
Was the excess of guards for show or necessity? She’d not heard of any unrest in the vid reports she’d watched during the space flight, but not all threats would be made public.
Pomp and circumstance, indeed.
Her gaze fell on the huge tapestries hung on the curved wall behind the dais. They depicted the first colonists as they prepared to leave Earth, the planting of the flag, the landing of the first ship, and the naming of the planet. Brett could appreciate the quality of the workmanship from where she stood.
Next, she took in the lead players in tonight’s pageant, reconciling all she’d learned about them in her studies as social secretary with seeing them in person.
William, as a direct descendant of Earth’s British Tudor line, wore Tudor colors of green and white on a sash over his elaborate gold-trimmed military-styled uniform. He was taller than he seemed in the vids, fair, and blue-eyed.
Beatrice, as beautiful as in the vids, wore a gown of heavy rich velvet the color of chocolate. She was fair like William, but her hair was the color of burnished copper. Ten years younger than William, she’d borne him two sons—Henry, age six and James, age four—and a daughter, Mary, age two. The royal children weren’t present, most likely secured in the castle with
their royal nannies.
With two such handsome parents, the children were sure to be attractive also.
Brett moved on to Lady Diane Brandon, the queen’s personal secretary, standing next to Beatrice to receive each gift. Brett judged her to be in her late forties, elegant, with striking blue eyes and long blonde hair worn loose down her back, the epitome of a lady of the court.
Brandon? Could she be related to Captain Brandon? Brett glanced over to the small group following her and her father into the room and compared their looks. He was dark and tall, while she was blonde. Perhaps his mother?
If so, it would put his family very well placed in New Commonwealth’s society, and a slight twinge of nervousness struck her. She’d been almost rude to the man and his friends. Damn her inability to fit in. Would she never learn? Her mother would have handled him differently, he would have been eating out of her hand, along with the other two.
A booming voice announced the next ambassador, shaking Brett out of her thoughts. “From Old Earth, Ambassador General Jonathan Butler, and his daughter Miss Brett Butler.”
Brett and her father stepped forward to be received, followed by James carrying the gifts. Brett’s boot heels echoed on the inlaid wooden floor as they approached the dais. When they reached William and Beatrice, the ambassador bowed deeply and Brett dropped into the curtsy she’d practiced to perfection on the freighter with a gentle sweep backward of her foot.
Ambassador Butler presented William with his Letters of Introduction, signed and sealed with the emblem of the President of the United Earth Nations. William took the letters and passed them to his Prime Minister to place with the others received earlier in the evening.
“Your Highness, it is my honor to present you and your queen with these gifts.” Ambassador Butler lifted his hand toward his daughter.
Brett turned to James, selected the box on top, and held it out toward Beatrice.
“The first is for Queen Beatrice.”
Lady Diane Brandon stepped forward to receive it. Brett held the box, and Lady Brandon opened it. Seated, Beatrice leaned forward. Brett pulled away the box, and the quilt unfolded.
The small crowd gasped. Lady Brandon and Brett held out the quilt for the queen to inspect. It was large enough to cover any bed; the background material was green and white, the Tudor colors, with a pattern of interlocking rings in the queen’s Stuart tartan colors of orange and blue. Random stitching enclosed the soft filling between the top layer and the soft cream bottom layer.
Beatrice rose, stepped forward, took it in her hands, and examined the quilt closely.
“This is the finest workmanship I have ever seen, Miss Butler. It is truly a work of art. Please give my great esteem to the artisans who created this piece.” Her soft voice sounded sincere as she ran her fingers over the quilt. William smiled at the ambassador and nodded.
“I’m so pleased you like it, Your Highness.” Brett smiled at her. “I will be glad to pass on your esteem to the women of my family.”
“Your family? You did this work?” Beatrice exclaimed. She looked closer at the stitching. “It’s flawless.”
“Yes, all the women of my family quilt. It’s a family tradition. I was taught to quilt at the age of six. My two aunts, four cousins, and my grandmother worked on it for three months prior to my leaving Earth, and I finished the random stitching on my journey here.” Brett downplayed her role in the quilt.
She'd selected every scrap of fabric and laid out the entire thing, leaving the heavy cutting and piecing to her family as she readied for the long trip. Brett used every bit of the spare time over two months in space to finish the final quilting.
“The pattern is called ‘wedding rings.’ The circles symbolize love and marriage.” She touched the quilt gently. There was a similar quilt waiting for Brett, stashed away by her mother in a chest at the ranch on Earth. Gathering dust.
“It’s so beautiful,” Beatrice said. Lady Brandon helped Brett refold the quilt, and then she placed it on the side table with the other gifts.
Brett turned to James, lifted the long wooden box from his arms, and stepped over to William. Her father gave her a small nod as she proceeded swiftly on to the next gift.
“Your Highness, my family would like to present to you this gift. I’ve heard of your passion for military history, so my father and I thought this would be appropriate to add to your collection.” Brett unlocked the two brass locks and opened the case to reveal an ancient rifle lying on a black velvet bed.
The guard at William’s side looked into the case and frowned. Jerking his sidearm Taser out of its holster, he aimed and fired at Brett.
Chapter Four
“Brett!” Stephen cried out as he and Johann ran to the fallen woman, with Helena close behind.
“Have you lost your mind?” Butler shouted at the guard, as he moved toward his daughter.
“It was a weapon, Your Majesty,” the guard explained.
Another guard intercepted Butler and wrenched his arms behind his back to restrain him. Agony contorted his face as the guard held firm.
Stephen’s mother, Lady Diane, moved in front of the queen to protect her, as did the queen’s personal guard.
Stephen knelt beside Brett, ripped off his glove, and checked for a pulse at her throat. The guards all took a step closer and drew their weapons, ready to take any necessary action.
“Stand back! Give way,” Stephen ordered, holding his hand out to halt the guards and people crowding Brett.
The king came forward.
“Release the ambassador,” William ordered with a flick of his wrist. Before the guard dropped his grip, Butler jerked free, rubbing his shoulder as he moved closer to his daughter lying on the floor, but the guard blocked his path.
Stephen looked up and gave the ambassador a quick nod. “She’s breathing. I think she’s coming around, sir. There shouldn’t be any damage from the Taser. None lasting, anyway,” he reassured her father and himself, but his heart still filled his throat.
Brett moaned softly, then her eyes fluttered and she gasped. Stephen exhaled in relief.
“Pul’ou…pul’ou,” she slurred.
Stephen looked up at her father, then back at Brett.
“What the hell?” Stephen stared as a small wisp of gray smoke rose from her ear behind a curtain of her black hair.
“Pull it out of her ear, now!” her father shouted at him. “Quickly, man!” There was no denying the tone of voice, and Stephen automatically obeyed.
He raked back her hair with his bare fingers to reveal a small device imbedded in the canal of her ear. Reaching in, he dislodged it with his fingernail, but it was attached by a wire trailing deep inside her ear. He looked up at her father as the device continued to smoke.
“Pull it out!” her father ordered.
Brett moaned louder and attempted to rake the device again, and Stephen snagged it with his fingers. With a hard pull, it dislodged, a small piece of bloody tissue attached to its end.
She moaned again, then relaxed and blinked rapidly as blood trickled from her ear. Stephen reached into his jacket, pulled out his handkerchief, and held it to the side of her head to staunch it.
“What’s in the case?” William motioned Stephen to his side.
“Hold this,” he ordered the guard, who squatted next to Brett and took over the duty of pressing the cloth to her head.
They both knelt down, and William slowly opened the case. Inside was indeed a rifle, but a very old rifle in a style not seen on Earth for hundreds of years and never on New Commonwealth.
“It’s exquisite. Sir,” he addressed Butler, “you and your daughter were correct, this is a most wonderful gift and will take a place of honor in my collection.”
He closed the case again and pointed to the engraved plate on the top of the case. Both men read it, looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and then William stood and addressed the ambassador.
“Ambassador Butler, Miss Butler, I must apologiz
e for my guard’s actions,” William said.
Brett rolled to her side and tried to sit up, pushing the guard away.
“Lord Brandon?” She'd no idea why she reached for him, but she did.
And there he was, taking her outstretched hand, his arms around her, helping her to sit up. Her head ached, but the room stopped spinning, and she could move again.
She tried to focus on his face. Touching his cheek with one finger to reassure herself he was real, she leaned back against his chest as his arms wrapped around her in support. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Had he been as frightened as she?
The tiny device lay on the floor next to her, still smoking. Then in a flash of blue, it exploded with a soft zap.
“What was it?” Johann asked. He knelt down and poked at the remains with the point of his pen. “A weapon of some kind?” He looked over his shoulder at her father.
“Her hearing implant, you fool,” he said between his clenched teeth, his hands in tight fists.
“Hearing implant?” Captain Stuart echoed, still puzzled.
“Last year on Alpha V there was an assassination attempt on my life,” her father said. “My car was attacked, but I wasn’t in it; Brett was. She was injured and lost the hearing in one ear.”
Brett looked up. “We were at an embassy party. I left early, before my father. The windows on the car were mirrored. The attacker couldn’t see who was in it. He fired a grenade at the car without knowing or caring who was inside.” She stopped to inhale deeply.
Her head swam, and she fought down a wave of nausea. How would it look if she vomited all over the king’s boots? She could imagine her mother’s disapproving frown and swallowed hard.
“The driver was killed instantly, and Brett was injured,” Butler continued.
Brett signaled to Stephen she wanted to stand. He rocked back on his heels and stood. Holding out his hand, he pulled her to her feet, but kept a supportive arm around her waist.
The Ambassador's Daughter Page 3
