Shades of Empire (ThreeCon)

by Carmen Webster Buxton

  “Who is he?”

  Thaddeus’ smile was bland. “Did I say it was a he?”

  Maddy gave him an annoyed glare in return. “I hate it when you’re so damn smug. If there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s a clever spy.”

  Thaddeus smiled for real. “Not even when he’s the best lay you ever had?”

  She snorted. “I should never have let that slip.”

  Thaddeus took a step closer. “I wish you’d let something else slip.”

  “What?” she asked hopefully.

  He sighed and shook his head. The woman was insatiable. “I’m not talking about your clothes, Maddy. I’m talking about your feelings for me—assuming that you have any.”

  “Oh, that,” she said, sounding annoyed. “Are you back on that again?”

  That again. She really was a piece of work. He had never known anyone more resistant to talking about her feelings. “Yes. Why is it you can make dinner table conversation out of how good sex is between us but you can’t say how you feel about me?”

  “There you go,” Maddy said, sounding just as annoyed as he was. “Everything has to be spelled out with you. Jesus, I’m surprised you don’t want a contract just to kiss me. What’s wrong with letting things happen on their own? What’s wrong with leaving some things unsaid? That way no one has to take anything back later on.”

  Maybe she was just cynical. Either that, or she had been disappointed once too often. “I don’t intend to take anything back. You know I love you, Maddy. I told you so.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Try not to sound so overjoyed.”

  “All right,” she said in exasperation. “So it was nice to hear you say it. It gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling right in the pit of my stomach. It would have been even warmer and fuzzier if I felt I could trust you.”

  A genuine sentiment. That was progress. Maybe there was hope for the relationship. “You can trust me. I’m a very trustworthy person.”

  “I know you are. I’m sure ThreeCon trusts you to the hilt. You signed on with them, and you’re sticking with it, just like you said you would. Unfortunately, that doesn’t do me any good.”

  Thaddeus lost patience with her. “Oh, go call your customer. See if you can buy us some time so I can get back to Gaulle.”

  She gave him a surprised look. “Gaulle? The Empire doesn’t allow any off-worlders on Gaulle. That’s why they built the space stations.”

  “I know that. But if I can get to either of the stations, I can get to Gaulle.”

  Her look of surprise changed to one of hostility. “You expect me to let a good deal go sour and bust my ass to get this ship back to the Degollado system so you can get yourself killed?”

  At least she sounded concerned for him. “I won’t be doing anything dangerous.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “Hah! Messing with the Empire is always dangerous. You’re a fricking native-born Terran. You’d blend in about as much as a Miloran in a ballet. Not even your idiot act would save you.”

  He held in a sigh. “It’s not your problem, Maddy.”

  “It’s not my problem if the man I—” she broke off abruptly.

  Thaddeus came alert. She had come damn close. “The man you what?”

  “Nothing.” She sounded like a sulky toddler. “I care about you; that’s all.”

  He gave her a brief moment of scrutiny and sighed audibly. It was no use asking himself why he had fallen for her. He had, and that was that. “I suppose I should be grateful you can say that much.”

  “Yes, you should,” Maddy said with asperity.

  “Anyway,” Thaddeus said, “I need to find out what’s happening on Gaulle. Please go see what you can do about getting us there quickly?”

  She twisted her lower lip as she thought it over. “What happens if I refuse to go back to Degollado?”

  He slapped his forehead in exasperation. Nothing was ever easy with her. “I’ll just have to leave the ship at our first stop and see what kind of transportation I can get there.”

  She glared at him. “You are one stubborn bastard, Thaddeus Jenner.”

  He smiled at the thought that she was calling him stubborn and kissed her gently. “You’re not exactly Saint Teresa of Calcutta yourself, Maddy.”

  She snorted with disgust. “All right, I’ll go make that call. You play with your super agent decoder com and see if you can cover the massive debt I’m about to incur.

  Resolution at last. “Thanks, Maddy.”

  She gave him a self-assured smile. “I’ll expect more than verbal thanks for this one, Thad. I’m talking wrist restraints, and you wear that little leather thing I picked up on Tegallos.”

  Thaddeus groaned, recalling the collection of leather straps that could hardly be called a garment. “What is it with you and bondage games? Why can’t we just make love?”

  Maddy’s smile grew positively smug. “Because I’ve done that already, lots of times.”

  “I know,” Thaddeus said. “You and everyone else on this damn ship insist on talking about it constantly.”

  She laughed and stepped through the cell doorway. “I’ll see you later, cupcake.”

  “Wait a minute,” Thaddeus called out. “Which one of us has to wear the restraints?”

  Her laugh floated back to him, but there was no answer.

  • • •

  Peter Barranca woke with a start, conscious of a faint, nagging headache.

  Two young women in gray starched dresses and aprons stood beside the bed holding an elaborate purple dressing gown. A third woman slipped out from the covers beside him. They wrapped the robe around her so swiftly, Peter had no more than a glimpse of long black hair and a bare back.

  She tied the sash and turned to face him. “Good morning, Count.”

  It was Vinitra du Plessis.

  “Good morning, Princess,” Peter said, fighting the urge to clutch the bedclothes.

  She smiled, pleased with the world. How had she spent her wedding night? Not with him, certainly. Peter didn’t care to think about it too closely.

  She turned to go, her retainers falling into step behind her. “I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”

  “Certainly,” Peter said.

  They went out through the vestibule, the door to the Princess’ suite closing with a loud thunk. Peter heard a click and knew that the door had been locked.

  Fine with him. He had no desire to see his new wife any more than was necessary.

  He sat up and surveyed his new bedroom, struck by the fact that it was luxurious but thoroughly anonymous. The tapestries on the walls were tasteful and muted, just like the furniture, and the surface of every table and shelf was well polished but completely bare. A pale carpet on the floor added to the spacious feeling.

  He stood up, and his headache worsened as he moved. It occurred to him that he might have been drugged to facilitate the secret exit of the woman who had occupied the bed with him. He wouldn’t put it past Antonio du Plessis. He wouldn’t put anything past Antonio du Plessis.

  Peter had almost reached the dressing room when the door from the vestibule opened suddenly and two men stepped into the room. Peter was instantly conscious that he was completely naked, but neither of the men seemed to find this circumstance worthy of comment. They both bowed as if they were in the habit of conversing with naked men every morning.

  “Good morning, Count Barranca,” said the elder of the two, a slender man of medium height and near Peter’s age. His companion was taller and broader, and looked to be only in his early twenties, or even his late teens.

  “I’m Gregorio, your valet,” the older man said, “and this is Hubert, who’ll keep your rooms tidy and fetch anything you might need.”

  “Good morning,” Peter said, astounded. Even at Barranca House, where there were servants to manage the machines that cleaned and cooked, no one person had two other people just to wait on him—certainly not two people who could confront a naked stranger without blinking
an eye.

  “Breakfast is served in the family parlor,” Gregorio went on smoothly. “May I assist you in the matter of your bath or your clothes?”

  “No thank you,” Peter said politely. “And what is Hubert doing here so early?”

  “Hubert has come to collect the sheets,” Gregorio said without a blush.

  Peter cast a hasty glance at the bed and realized why Antonio had bothered to import a virgin to play the part of his bride. Counting Vinitra’s maids, there were now four witnesses to testify to blood-spotted sheets. “I see.”

  “Of course you do, sir,” Gregorio said solemnly. “Perhaps while you’re in the bathroom I might lay out some clothes for you? You can always change them if I select the wrong things.”

  Peter decided not to make an issue of his independence while he was standing naked in front of two men he had never seen before. “Fine,” he said, and he stepped through to the bathroom before Gregorio could make any more conversation.

  When Peter came out of the bathroom, Hubert was gone and the bed was neatly made. Peter’s new valet had laid out every piece of clothing he would need to be well dressed, from socks and underclothes right down to a decorative handkerchief for his shirt pocket.

  “There you are, Count,” Gregorio said warmly. “Does this meet with your approval?”

  “It’s fine.” Peter had no real opinions where clothes were concerned. His aunt usually bought them for him, and he wore whatever he found first in the closet.

  Gregorio refrained from actually assisting him to dress but he hovered anxiously, as if he weren’t certain Peter knew how to put his clothes on by himself. Peter tentatively suggested he really didn’t need a valet, but the man looked so crestfallen that he hastily softened this statement to say that he needed a valet more in the evenings, to put his clothes away and see to his laundry.

  “Certainly, sir,” Gregorio said, with genuine warmth in his voice. “I shall of course be here when you return. When might that be, Count?”

  “Not until after dinner.”

  Gregorio bowed deeply and let no trace of emotion cross his face. He did, when Peter asked him, unbend sufficiently to give his new employer directions to the family parlor.

  The two black-uniformed guardsmen who waited outside the parlor door seemed to expect Peter, as they allowed him to enter unmolested. Both Emperor Antonio and Princess Vinitra were already seated at the elegantly laid table when he walked in the door. Antonio was kissing Vinitra’s hand, and she was looking at him with intense adoration in her gaze.

  Peter repressed his distaste, bowed deeply to Antonio, and then to Vinitra.

  “Good morning, Barranca,” Antonio said easily, still holding Vinitra’s hand.

  “Good morning, Excellency,” Peter said politely.

  “Sit down, sit down,” Antonio said. “We’re all family here. You have to eat, too, don’t you?”

  “Thank you, Excellency,” Peter said, taking a seat in the only empty chair. “Good morning again, Princess.”

  “Good morning, Count,” Vinitra said.

  “Tut, tut, Vinnie,” Antonio chided her. “He’s your husband now, after all. You should call him Peter. Should she not, Count?”

  “Most certainly, Excellency.”

  “There, you see, Vinnie,” Antonio said with a smile. He dropped the hand that still held hers below the table and, in a moment, Vinitra jumped and then smiled a pleased smile.

  Wondering sourly if they would subject him to watching them grope each other under the tablecloth every morning, Peter poured himself a cup of coffee. He ate a reasonable breakfast, then excused himself on the score of having business to attend to in the city. It seemed more tactful than saying that he intended to visit the woman who had helped to kill their parents.

  “That’s right,” Antonio said as Peter rose. “Your family has quite extensive business dealings, don’t they, Count?”

  “Yes, Excellency.”

  “You’ll have to tell Vinnie about it sometime. You can go now, Count.”

  Peter bowed again, to both of them, and left swiftly. He was distressed to find himself clenching his hands into fists as he walked out the front door of the palace and made his way to the front gate.

  He had to press his palm against an ID panel, as well as showing his electronic ID to get out of the gate. Apparently, security had taken a leap forward at the palace.

  His skimmer was parked right where Peter had directed his driver to wait.

  “Good morning, Count,” the driver said as Peter entered the passenger compartment. “Where are we going?”

  “Barranca House first, Julie,” Peter said. “And then in a hour or so I’ll need to go to the main office.”

  “Yes, sir.” She pulled the skimmer expertly into the traffic lanes.

  Situated on extensive grounds on the north edge of Montmartre, Barranca House had been his family’s home for over a century. Peter’s great-grandfather, the first Barranca to bring true wealth to the family, had expanded both the house and grounds. Previous Barrancas had provided both fame and honor through their illustrious service in the military.

  Having been enlarged through the last few generations, the Barranca family fortune had even withstood the depredations of Peter’s father’s more impulsive lifestyle. Peter remembered his father with fondness, but with a certain irritation. Hugo Barranca had been a man of high principles, but they weren’t strongly grounded. He believed in marriage, but had never met a woman who tempted him to fidelity. He loved his children, but rarely bestirred himself to attend to their welfare. Likewise, he also thought if one could neither change nor eradicate evil, it was best to ignore it. Peter had no patience with that attitude.

  As the skimmer darted through the gates of Barranca house, Peter’s thoughts flashed back to the night before. He remembered the way the woman he knew only as Princess had felt in his arms, soft and vulnerable, somehow trusting him not to abuse her. Could she be one of the Emperor’s concubines, left virgin because now Antonio could have the woman he truly desired in his bed? Peter knew that Antonio had followed custom and sent all his father’s women away, choosing instead to start his own harem with a half dozen women brought in hastily from the provinces.

  Peter had a sudden rush of cogitation as it occurred to him that, more than anyone else, the new Emperor had had a reason to want Lothar du Plessis dead. The sheer logic of it struck him as forcefully as the audacity. It was difficult to imagine a son killing his father so coldly, but then the two people who had sat across from him at the breakfast table obviously didn’t see family in the same way that Peter did. He put the thought away as something he would consider later.

  The skimmer dropped him off at the front door, and as Peter entered the house, two tall members of the Emperor’s Own Corps stepped forward, looked him over and nodded for him to pass. Their presence would be explained away as normal security for the Emperor’s brother-in-law’s estate, but Peter knew it was because Helena was here. He stopped worrying about the du Plessis family and began to concentrate instead on the Barrancas.

  Ricardo greeted him as he came into the main hall. “Pete!” he yelled from the stairs. “You’re home!” Ricardo had never been one to hide his feelings. Everything he felt showed on his face.

  Peter smiled at the warmth of this greeting. “Hello, Rick.” No one but his brother ever called him Pete, just as Ricardo allowed no one else to call him Rick.

  Ricardo wrinkled his brow in a mild frown. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Peter said easily. “How’s the hangover?”

  Ricardo’s frown melted into disgust. “It was less than half a glass of wine. You’d have thought I’d gone out and gotten blasted from the way Aunt Cyn carried on.”

  Peter crossed the entrance hall and punched his brother lightly in the arm. “Do it again, boy, and you’ll be wishing it was Aunt Cyn who was punishing you. I won’t settle for just talking your ears off; I’ll pin them to the wall.”

&n
bsp; Ricardo looked even more ill used. “I’ll bet you did worse when you were my age.”

  Peter smiled but shook his head. “No. Not at fourteen.”

  “Really?” Ricardo lifted his brows and gave Peter an incredulous look.

  “Really. You lay off the booze, boy, or I’ll have to find a governor for you.”

  The brows dropped in a truly harsh frown. “You wouldn’t!”

  “Yes, I would. If Aunt Cyn can’t handle you, I’ll find someone who can.”

  Alarm mixed with skepticism in Ricardo’s expression.

  “I’m going to see Helena now,” Peter said. “Wait for me on the terrace, and then we can have a little talk.”

  “All right.”

  Peter made a point to take the stairs instead of the lift. The ceilings were quite high in Barranca House, but still, a man should never let himself get out of shape or he might find himself feeling his age.

  As soon as he set foot on the fourth floor landing, he saw the two heavily armed men in black uniforms waiting outside the door to the attic room his sister now occupied. Peter approached slowly. The Emperor’s Own had never had a sense of humor. After the recent events at the palace, he expected they would be both grim and short-tempered.

  He was right. The two snapped to an alert stance and looked Peter over as if they suspected him of carrying all manner of concealed weapons. Indeed, as he came nearer, one man aimed his weapon at Peter while the other lowered his to lift a portable scanner.

  “Good morning,” Peter said courteously. “I’m Peter Barranca, and I’ve come to see my sister.”

  The two of them looked just faintly disgusted, as if they couldn’t believe he would claim kinship with so disreputable a person as Lady Helena Barranca.

  “Hold out your arms, Count,” the one with the scanner ordered.

  Peter obeyed, and stood patiently as they first scanned him thoroughly and then frisked him physically.

  “Very well, sir,” the same man said. “You can go in now.”

  “Thank you,” Peter said, still polite. It wouldn’t do to antagonize Helena’s jailers. They might well occupy his house for the next ten years.