“Do you know where you are?”
“The suck-wad planet, Vxloncia, City of Dominion, my bedroom.”
“Patient self-aware and clearly oriented to place.” Pansy smiled. “Do you know who I am?”
“A pain in the ass named Pansy,” he growled.
With a relieved smile, Pansy looked toward Steffania. “Definitely no personality change. I think he’ll be fine. Just make him stay quiet.”
Steffania snorted and straightened. “You lost, DeKieran.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.
He blinked at her, uncomprehending.
“You lost, DeKieran. That hulking cretin, Tok, knocked you senseless.”
“That’s a setback.”
Steffania rolled her eyes. “Rather an understatement, wouldn’t you say?”
“We’ll go with the plan we agreed upon yesterday.”
The previous evening he’d admitted his concern about overcoming Tok. Ramsey and Steffania had spent an intense evening discussing possible alternatives. They’d drilled each other on a carefully laid-out strategy for breaking into Varr’s main house until the plan had been indelibly stamped in their brains. Unfortunately, neither one of them had anticipated one small complication.
“Well, Lord DeKieran, we had better do so quickly. Our notice to be off-planet within one NT solar day – not the three we had anticipated – arrived with your inert body. I don’t think the Vxloncians like us very much.”
Ramsey groaned and closed his eyes. “Pansy, what have you got for a splitting headache? I need to be able to think.”
~ ~ ~
Steffania and Ramsey worked side-by-side, heads down, examining the layout of Narr’s estate. Ram’s tangible masculine presence taunted her brain with ‘what-if’s’ and Steffania’s concentration on the task at hand eluded her. Her mind kept reliving the recent past as if some vid-cast programmed to an endless loop had been hard-wired into her brain. She couldn’t stop seeing his lifeless body lying on the arena floor.
“…and I think that is the best way, though I’d like to have your input.” Ramsey looked at her expectantly. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table. Steffania hadn’t a clue what he’d been talking about.
“Sorry. I was thinking about the wiring schematics for Narr’s fixed secure-cams,” she lied. “Show me one more time.”
With an irritated clearing of his throat, Ram rehashed what he’d just said. This time she listened carefully.
“DeKieran, I want to contact the League of Federated Planets and get more guns down here. They will come if we tell them about the illegal cerebral probe operation.”
Ramsey eyed her. “Our only agenda is to get Alessa DeAlbero. In my experience with the League during the Haarb wars, the League operates according to strictly defined goals. They will insist on controlling every aspect of this mission. The League doesn’t care about Alessa DeAlbero. She could easily become collateral damage and there goes my pardon.” Ramsey shook his head. “No League.”
He presented a valid point. His personal interest in rescuing DeAlbero trumped her other concerns. Her lips formed a tight line and with a curt nod she bit out, “Understood. But I’m calling them in as soon as she’s clear.”
Ramsey shrugged and opened his mouth to respond. A soft rap sounded on the door.
“Dominus?” Pansy’s voice called from the doorway of the bedroom. “Niles Hunt, the Second Residential Under-Secretary of Social Functions for the most illustrious Dominus Veacon Narr, is in the front room. He insists on speaking with you, immediately.” Her head peeked around the doorframe. “Shall I tell him you’ll be with him, shortly?”
Steffania and Ramsey exchanged frowning glances. “What does he want?”
“With respect, Sir, he would never speak directly to a slaaf.”
“He won’t speak to you?”
“No, Dominus.”
Then how do you know who he is?” Ramsey challenged.
“Ah, he...ah, he presented me with a card.” Pansy’s voice faltered as she held out a heavy white calling card printed with elaborate black script. Her hand shook visibly.
Ram took it from her, glanced at it then rolled his eyes and straightened. He tossed the card onto the stack of papers in front of Steffania and motioned for her to accompany him. “Let’s see what Niles Hunt wants and get rid of him.”
She glanced at the writing on the card and snorted – pretentious prick. Under his name and title, the Second Under-Secretary for Social Functions had scrawled, “Bring your master, immediately. I wish to speak with him.”
Steffania and Pansy followed Ram down the hallway, his already long strides lengthened by frustration, and into their main reception room. A short popinjay of a courtier stood straight as a sword blade in the center of the room, oozing an air of impatient self-importance. His dark business attire dripped with unnecessary furbelows and colorful embellishments – a deep purple ascot with a matching pocket hanky and various gold pins that hung off his lapel. His ankles flashed purple socks. Steffania swallowed a snort when she noted the stacked soles and heels of his shoes that augmented his height.
When he saw Ramsey, Hunt pulled himself further erect, shot his cuffs and threw out his chest. His close proximity to tall, savagely masculine Ramsey rendered his efforts to look imposing moot. “Do I address Dominus Ramsey DeKieran?”
Steffania could see the wicked gleam in Ramsey’s eyes. She didn’t know the fool standing in their reception, but he’d just shot himself in the head.
“Pansy, please be so kind as to inform this Niles Hunt, the Second Residential Under-Secretary of Social Functions for the most illustrious Dominus Veacon Narr, that Lord DeKieran of the Verdantian Noble House DeKieran requires Narr’s secretary relay his address to Lord DeKieran through Lord DeKieran’s most valuable and honored companion, Pansy.” Ramsey turned his back to the Under-Secretary in pointed dismissal. He made a show of examining his nails. He took out a gleaming short-blade to clean under them, then buffed them against his vest.
Steffania worked to stay expressionless at the delight suffusing Pansy and the quivering affront emanating from the Second Residential Under-Secretary.
Pansy chirped, “Second Residential Under-Secretary of Social Functions, Lord DeKieran of the Verdantian Noble House DeKieran requires that you – ”
“Yes, yes, yes, I heard him.”
The Second Residential Under-Secretary regrouped. With his eyes closed and a look of constipation on his face, he ground out, “Pansy, I have the pleasure to offer the most illustrious Veacon Narr’s – ”
Ramsey had been watching over his shoulder. “Open your eyes and look her in the face, Niles. She’s a person.”
Steffania ducked her head and raised a hand to hide the smile she could not prevent. Niles Hunt’s already erect stance stiffened to the rigidity of an icicle and he spoke in a voice of frozen dignity. “Pansy, will you please proffer to Lord DeKieran my employer’s invitation to attend the celebratory function honoring the winner of this year’s gladiatorial combat. Dominus Narr hopes that Lord DeKieran will consider extending his stay on our fair planet for several days and meet some of the extra-planetary dignitaries who are now his fellow guests. A conveyance will arrive at half past six this evening and transport him and his party to – ”
“No.” Ram’s flat utterance silenced the under-secretary.
“No?” the man repeated blankly. “No?”
Careful to maintain her façade as a good slaaf, Steffania glanced demurely at Ramsey. {You’re turning this down? You ass! The invitation plays right into our hands.}
“Why should I go to a celebration honoring some other fighter’s triumph over me? How can that be a pleasurable experience for me? Eh?” Ram addressed the stunned envoy. “No. I’ll pass.”
The envoy blinked, clearly stunned, for a moment. “You must come!” At Ram’s dismissive flick of a hand, the under-secretary flushed crimson and turned to address Pansy. “Miss Pansy, please tell Lord DeKieran that though this invitation is nomi
nally from my employer, rather it is the Khlossian, Tok, who has advised my illustrious employer, that if his friend, Ramsey DeKieran, is not invited, the Khlossian will depart immediately.
“This presents Dominus Narr with something of a diplomatic dilemma. My illustrious employer has, at great personal expense, hosted a number of dignitaries from various planets to meet the victor of this year’s games. It would be terribly embarrassing to my employer were he to fail to provide the promised introductions and vid-cast opportunities. He would lose all the political and business good-will garnered by this generous gesture.”
The Under-Secretary paused and coughed delicately. “Though they’ve come for the winner, and though the request for your presence comes primarily from that winner, there is a certain interest in meeting the most valiant runner-up, Lord DeKieran from Verdantia. I have...ahem...been authorized to extend a generous, ah, gratuity, to Lord DeKieran should he grace our celebration.” The dainty man ended on a theatrical note of entreaty as false as any stage performance.
With a deferential bow of her head, Steffania murmured in a low, throaty purr, “How very flattering to you, Dominus, surely you will reconsider?” {DeKieran, what the fuck are you doing? That blow to your head must have scrambled the few brains you possess. Agree to go, god-damn you!}
Ram’s head cocked and a flicker of a smile quirked his lips then vanished. With a decisive about-face, he turned to Pansy.
“I have reconsidered. Pansy, inform Niles Hunt, the Second Residential Under-Secretary for Social Function for the illustrious Veacon Narr, that I and my party will be pleased to have transportation to Dominus Narr’s estates at half-past eight this evening. Sooner than that will be inconvenient.”
A delighted Pansy repeated Ramsey’s drawled statement to a relieved, Niles Hunt. The man made no quibble about the two-hour delay in departure.
“Thank you, Miss Pansy.” The little man made a sketchy bow to the diminutive slaaf and then to Ramsey.
“Pansy, please stay with Under-Secretary Hunt while we finish our packing. Amuse him, entertain him in our absence.”
At Ramsey’s instruction, Pansy nodded. The tiny beauty guided Under-Secretary Hunt to a comfortable sofa and sat beside him. Steffania wondered if Pansy realized how much her behavior had changed in the three weeks she’d been in Ramsey’s care; in the beginning, she’d have fallen to the floor in obeisance at such a command. This self-assured, intelligent woman would suffer under any dominus. They had to find a way to take Pansy with them.
“Let me get you something to drink, Under-Secretary. We have some very fine, aged, Pottsdim Likor.” Pansy rose, unstopped the decanter and poured him two fingers of the potent spirits. She returned and placed the cut-crystal tumbler in his hand.
“Thank you.” The Under-Secretary threw his head back and gulped the entire glass. The liquor had barely cleared his throat when he broke out in a wheeze and thumped his chest as tears streamed from the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, dear lady. Prime likor.”
Pansy smiled and took the glass from his shaking hand. “May I offer you another, Sir?”
Steffania turned at Ramsey’s touch on her arm. He led her from the room in silence as Pansy refilled the Under-Secretary’s glass for him. Steffania laughed inwardly at the wicked enjoyment that shone from Pansy’s eyes. Steffania wondered how long it would take the violet-eyed slaaf to get Narr’s envoy falling down drunk on the potent alcohol.
{Ram, what was your initial refusal of Narr’s invitation about?}
{Didn’t want to seem too eager. Word that I initially refused will rapidly spread. I imagine few reject Narr’s invitations. It will deflect suspicion, somewhat. With this afternoon’s attempt on me in the arena, I’m fairly certain Narr suspects me of being more than a simple entrant.}
Steffania pursed her lips in consideration then shrugged and nodded. {Makes sense.}
His dry voice echoed in her brain. {I call the gods to witness and record this momentous occasion. The woman agrees with me.}
Steffania snorted. “I will pack us as quickly as possible.” A stray thought meandered through her mind. {Ramsey.}
{Hmm?}
{You didn’t seem surprised – about the invitation. Did you know Tok would make Narr invite you?}
A crooked smile tilted his lips and he shrugged. {Might have.}
{Then it didn’t matter if you won or Tok won. Either result would achieve our aim.}
{Possibly.} Ramsey chuckled at her growing look of annoyance. {Tok has an agenda of his own, and one I think you’ll agree with: he’s working undercover for GAPS. Narr has been on their list of suspicious individuals for some time. Tok is here to find evidence that will shut Narr down and allow GAPS to prosecute Narr in galactic court. Though it made sense to combine forces, there was never any guarantee he could inveigle an invitation from Narr for me. I fought to win. I had to. Tok knew that.}
{When were you going to tell me?} He shrugged. His grin was really starting to piss her the hell off. {DeKieran...you were going to tell me?}
{Probably.}
Okay. Now it was official. She was beyond pissed. She clenched her fists, tempted to clock him right in the middle of that smug, irritating grin. She’d suffered through hell thinking Tok had killed him, and only now Ram thought to tell her it was largely a ruse?
She yelped at the smart slap he planted on her buttocks.
“Get us packed, sweetheart – and don’t forget my black bag.”
With an irritating awareness that he’d toyed with her, Steffania watched Ramsey enter the room they had designated the office and collect the techno “toys” used in their planning. He nested them carefully into their waffle-insulated cases. For a man from a technologically disadvantaged planet, Ramsey had shown a decided facility for such devices. She snorted to herself. Bad boys do love their toys. She pondered his unexpected revelation about Tok, and she added another adjective to her mental picture of Lord Ramsey Melborn DeKieran: he was a sneaky, possessive, horny bastard.
Chapter Fourteen
Steffania sat stiff and demure in Narr’s sleek aerofoil, his plush, chauffeured sky-limo. They flew above a landscape teeming with alien vistas and architecture. In addition to her, the luxurious aerofoil also held an excited though nervous Pansy, a decidedly intoxicated Niles Hunt and a grimly sober Ramsey. Steffania and Ramsey had given Pansy the opportunity to remain behind at the villa in Dominion but Pansy had insisted that where they went, she went. Steffania had to hand it to the slaaf. She didn’t lack courage.
Gleaming spires spun from materials unfamiliar to Steffania circled miles into an atmosphere abuzz with the blinking lights of private aerofoils and public sky-trams. The clear roof of their vehicle displayed an endless expanse of black, broken with the pinpoint brilliance of far-off stars. Steffania observed Ramsey subtly take in what must be to him the fantastic images of a world completely alien to his experience. He studied the stars in the night sky so intently that she looked also, and realized not even the constellations were the same as those in the night skies of Verdantia. What must this man think? One more unfamiliar detail reminding him he was light years from all that he knew. His apparently assured confidence and impassive observation lured her into forgetting Ramsey sojourned in an alien land, exposed for the first time to many of the hi-tech marvels and conveniences of living never imagined on Verdantian soil.
His seamless absorption of the technical details of Vxloncian life masked his lack of familiarity with anything other than Verdantia and confirmed her suspicion that Ramsey DeKieran coupled keen observation to a fine mind. Strength and brains. So much more than a brawny body and a handsome face and yet emotionally unavailable. I’m so fucked.
Niles Hunt sat in rigidly upright dignity in the farthest corner, lost in his own silent thoughts. Pansy curled on the seat next to Ramsey, the line of her hip flush against his, while Steffania faced Ramsey diagonally, as far from Niles Hunt as she could get.
An uneasy feeling of apprehension, different fr
om her normal adrenaline rush at the start of any action, roiled in her guts. The more she had examined Narr’s layout, the less she liked the odds of success if she and Ramsey had to break into the lower levels. Narr’s security was tighter than the virginal pussy of an acolyte in the temple of Era. If they got in, there were no guarantees they would get out. Narr had numbers, technology and armament on his side. She and Ramsey had a detailed, tightly timed plan, so full of holes they could fly an air-tram through it. The word “death trap” fluttered in her brain like a moth around a light.
For starters, they didn’t know where DeAlbero was on Narr’s estate – or in what condition. According to Pansy, Alessa might be a mindless piece of vegetative flesh. Steffania shoved such defeatist ideas away with firm determination. Just get the job done. Locate Alessa DeAlbero, get her to the rendezvous point and get out.
{DeKieran, if Narr uses transmission jammers on his estate, that’ll limit our ability to establish communications with DeTano until I can set up a high-powered override signal.}
Ramsey’s seemingly intent observation of the night sky passing above didn’t flicker. The light streaming into the limo outlined his elegant profile but cast the rest of his face in shadow. For the first time since arriving on Vxloncia, he wore full, hi-tech combat gear. The matte black absorbed the incoming light, leaving his body a shapeless dark mass.
{Understood.}
{I need at least an hour, perhaps more, of uninterrupted privacy. Preferably outside the main residence.}
Ramsey’s gaze followed a particularly intricate spire as it flashed across his plexglass window. {I’ll see what can be done. What else?}
Steffania shifted in her seat, unhappily aware of their vulnerabilities. {I want a squad of battle-hardened mercs on the ground and several League destroyers in stationary orbit above Narr’s estates with full combat array, online.}
His sardonic gravel of a thought grated softly across their comm-linc. {Pansy and I will endeavor to fill their shoes.} Ram slumped against the vehicle door and, with a casual turn of his head, glanced toward her.
Hers To Cherish (Verdantia Book 3) Page 14
