The Ambassador's Daughter

The Ambassador’s Daughter

Lynn Lorenz

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Published By: Etopia Press P.O. Box 66 Medford, OR 97501 http://www.etopiapress.com The Ambassador’s Daughter Copyright © 2011 by Lynn Lorenz ISBN: 978-1-936751-53-2 Cover by Amanda Kelsey All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Etopia Press electronic publication: August 2011 http://www.etopia-press.net

Chapter One “Watch him! He’s breaking loose!” The stallion bolted, his eyes rolling and hoofs clattering down the metal cargo tube of the space freighter. Brett dashed in front of him, her arms held out. “Black! Whoa!” The stallion skidded to a stop in front of her. Tossing his ebony mane with a shake of his head, he stepped forward to rub his face against her chest, blowing loudly through flared nostrils. Brett scratched behind his ears and held her hand out flat, offering him a small treat. His lips, soft as velvet, nibbled it out of her hand, and then he whinnied at her, as if to say, “What have you gotten me into, now?” “I know, boy. Neither of us belongs here. But we’ll have to make do.” The handler approached her, a look of disapproval on his face. She’d seen that look too many times on this trip and she was starting to get irritated.

“Miss Butler, let me have him. Ladies here shouldn’t do such,” he reprimanded her. She merely cocked an eyebrow at him. Seemed the men of New Commonwealth disapproved of much about her, and she felt as if she were an affront to their genteel senses. Well, so be it. She could never be mistaken for one of their delicate, frilly women. Not even if you squinted. “Never seen his like before, all those spots on his rump. And he’s a right big brute, he is.” He shook his head. Was he shaking his head at her, or Black? Probably both of them. She gathered Black’s leather leads, making loops of the leather until only two feet of play was left. “Yes, but he’s my big brute. And I’m quite sure I do many things the ladies here don’t.” She handed him the leads. “Keep them short.” Her turn to scowl at him. “I’ll follow to the planetary shuttle and make sure he’s bedded down. Properly.” “Yes, milady.” The man nodded and started off, shoulders hunched, leading the large horse down the concourse to the waiting shuttle on the other side of the spaceport hovering above the planet. Brett wondered if she’d ever get used to that “milady” everyone here used to address her. She wasn’t anyone’s “lady.” She preferred Major.

Again she wondered if she’d made a mistake coming here. Perhaps she should have told her father to find someone else for this tour of duty. But she knew she’d never desert her post. She was a Butler, after all. Butlers never deserted or surrendered. She’d had that drummed into her head from the age of three. Passersby, going to and from the big space freighters and smaller planetary shuttles, stared at their passing parade. Behind her, a laborer pushed a hover cart holding the trunk filled with Black’s tack. The last thing these people ever expected to see marching through the spaceport was a large black horse. She tried to keep a smile from showing, but she relished the thought of all those shocked people. It was wicked of her, but she couldn’t help herself. The spaceport bustled with activity. They weaved in and out of smaller groups of staring people. Brett would have preferred doing the transfer to the shuttle when there wasn’t so much commotion for Black’s sake, but she couldn’t help that. It wasn’t her decision when the deep space freighter landed. From watching the vids over the last two months spent on the trip from Earth, she knew that the women on this planet were very different from the strong, independent, workingwomen who had raised her. From their long gowns to what seemed to be their total lack of talent for anything except

decorating their houses or the arms of their lordly husbands, these New Commonwealth women were a soft, fragile lot. Brett watched as the men loaded Black Gold onto the shuttle. He tried to bite his handler, but the man avoided it by jumping backward. Two and a half months in a narrow stall on a freighter with partial gravity had made the stallion foul-tempered. Well, more foul-tempered than usual. “He’s just in a state about being cooped up for months,” she explained, thinking she was just about ready to bite too. The man glared at her and then the horse. “Animals don’t belong in space,” he said with a huff “People are animals,” Brett replied. “Besides, how would we get livestock to all the planets?” As she stood next to Black, she ran her hands over his withers, down his shoulders to his legs. Even though Brett had walked him daily on the freight decks, it hadn’t been the same as her riding him. He showed signs of lack of exercise, and his coat didn’t have its same shine, or his mane and tail the same luster and texture. “We’ll be at our new home soon, boy,” she reassured the big horse. He nickered at her. The sooner she could settle him into the stables at New London’s city park, the better. His health would improve, and he’d be back to his old self. Feisty and

smart, he was a one-woman horse. He’d belonged to Brett from the first moments after he was foaled and she’d held him in her arms on their ranch in Nuevo Tejas back on Earth. Finding a one-woman man had proved just a little harder.

*** Brett settled into her chair on board the shuttle. In a few short hours, they’d be at their new home. Her father had arrived on planet a month earlier to take up his new position as ambassador from Earth to New Commonwealth. Soon, she’d be at his side, handling her duties. The rising hum of the shuttle’s engines and the slight jar as the docking clamps released told her they were off. For a moment, they hung in free space, floating. Her stomach dropped, but she only smiled. She loved this part, the docking and undocking. After the excitement of her years in the United Space Marines, she found the rest of space travel predictable and boring. “Another year, another planet,” she muttered. This would be her third rotation serving with her father, the ambassador from Old Earth.

A man in a uniform pushing a cart of refreshments stopped next to her. “Milady, may I offer you a cup of tea?” “No, thank you.” She eyed the cart’s selection of tea, nutritional drinks, and coffee. She’d kill for a cold beer. She hoped James, her father’s long time batman, had stocked the refrigerators at the new house. Her father’s scotch, several cases of her favorite beer, and a nice assortment of their family’s wine label had been sent months ago with him. Brett snorted as she looked the dress she wore. If her sergeant could see her now, he’d laugh so hard he’d spit. She could hear him, “Butler, what the hell have you gotten into now?” Social secretary to the Ambassador from Earth. Long dresses for day wear. Hosting parties for the elite. And here on New Commonwealth, rubbing elbows with the aristocracy. Like something from an old storybook. Kings and queens. Lords and Ladies. The men and women of her old outfit would ride her unmercifully. She smiled at the thought of their jokes. She missed them. Good soldiers, all of them. But she didn’t miss that life. That was her secret, at least from her father. Here on New Commonwealth, things were going to have to be very different, and perhaps fitting in on this planet would be Brett’s most challenging job yet.

Women were delicate flowers, to be protected, nurtured, and kept in their hothouses. Did they never let their branches spread beyond their containers or everyone’s expectations? She sighed and rested her chin in her hand. I can adapt. I can be a plant. But can I be a flower? She had a hard time thinking of herself as a flower. Well, maybe a cactus blossom, like the ones that bloomed each spring on their ranch in Nuevo Texas. All you had to do was get past the thorns and tough skin. She laughed at the image as she keyed in the code on the vid monitor for the Residence, and James appeared on the screen. “I’m just a few hours out, James. Let the General know.” “Yes, miss.” He nodded. “Will you need a car?” “No, I’m riding with the shipping truck to get Black settled at the stables. Once I’m done, I’ll call for the car.” “Very well.” His face gave nothing away. “How is the big black monster?” One brow rose. “The usual.” “That’s too bad. I’d hoped for everyone’s sake he’d mellowed.” “No chance, James.” She grinned. “It’ll be good to see you again. And Dad.” “Indeed. Call when you need the car.” “I will. Brett out.”

The transmission cut off, and the screen went dark. She played with the folds of her dress, straightening them. The light wool material swirling around her ankles bothered her. It tickled her legs, and the occasional rush of air that blew against the soft skin of her thighs sent little shocks over her body. She felt totally unsupported. She was much more comfortable in trousers and boots. She even walked differently in the dresses. It was hard to stride confidently and with purpose while four yards of pink taffeta swirled around your ankles, threatening to trip you. The shock of the shuttle hitting the planet’s atmosphere jarred her as it used its rear heat shield for reentry. The belt around her shoulder jerked tighter, forcing her back against her seat. The shuttle shook and vibrated against the outer reaches of the atmosphere. She worried about Black, down in the hold, and wished she could have been there with him, but the rules didn’t allow it. She should have gone down there anyway, damn the rules. Her fingers gripped the armrest, keeping her in her seat, instead of bolting for the hatch to see to Black. Then the resistance was gone, and they were through. She exhaled and released her death grip on the chair. The shuttle rotated to point its nose at the

planet-side port just outside of New London, capitol city of New Commonwealth. Less than an hour until they landed. She gazed out the window at the planet below as they circled lower. She could clearly see blue oceans, green land, a few snow-crested mountains. How very much like home. Lush forests, fertile fields, flat plains. No deserts, though. The climate was temperate, like a perpetual spring with occasional winter in between. Great weather to ride in. Black will like that. This wasn’t where she’d pictured herself two years ago, before her mother’s death. She’d pictured herself out of the military and running the family ranch and for once in her life doing what she wanted to do, not what everyone else expected her to do. One out of two wasn’t bad. She’d left the military, but never made it back to the ranch, at least not to stay. All those hopes and dreams had vanished with her mother’s sudden death on a distant planet. Now as the ambassador’s social secretary, it was her job to understand this planet. She’d always been good at what she did no matter what duty called her to do or be. Whether she liked it or not. As the only child of Ambassador Jonathan Butler, formerly General Butler of the United Space Marines and decorated hero of the Jihad Space Wars, it had been expected she would follow in his boot steps. And she had her entire life.

No one had told her she’d have to take her mother’s place at her father’s side. His boots had been easy to fill, and she’d risen rapidly through the ranks of the military police. It was the size seven high heels of her mother, Elaine Wallace Butler, Brett knew she could never fill.

*** Ambassador Jonathan Butler entered the library and watched his daughter fondly. Beautiful, smart, headstrong, she had her mother’s wonderfully dry sense of humor. However, now at twenty-eight, with her recent refusal of the marriage proposal by that general on Alpha V, he wondered if he would ever bounce a grandchild on his knee. He couldn’t blame her; it had been his fault. She’d been everything he could have wished for, even had she been a son. Brett had realized, as a young child, her father had wanted a son, not a frilly girl, and she’d spent her life doing the best imitation of a son she could just to please him. How could he have ever been so stupid? “Are the gifts ready, Brett?” They would make their formal introductions to the Regent and his

queen tonight at a ball in honor of the new ambassadors to the planet of New Commonwealth.

Brett turned and faced her father. “Yes, General, they’re all ready. I’ll have James put them in the car and we can go.” Brett used his old rank not as a formality, but as a term of endearment. He held his ambassador’s sash in his hands then tried to put it on, struggling with it but refusing to ask for help. He could be so pig-headed sometimes. “Here, let me get that for you.” She raised the red length of velvet, clasped with the enameled blue and white symbol of Earth over his head, and settled it on his broad shoulders. In his early fifties, he was still a handsome man. His rugged face creased with laugh lines at the corners of his blue eyes and his dark hair, though shot through with gray, was still thick and full. A lifetime of physical conditioning had kept his military physique, and now the therapy on his damaged shoulder continued to hone his body. “I thought you were going to wear one of your new gowns.” He frowned at her. “I know. But it’s just not me. Besides, I like this suit much better. It has fringe.” She wrinkled her nose and laughed.

“No matter what you’re wearing, you’re beautiful. But I suspect, you’ve got your head set on causing a stir.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. At five feet seven inches, Brett wasn’t short, but her father stood six feet two inches and towered over her. She laughed. “Now, Dad. I wouldn’t do that.” “Right. You not take a different path?” He snorted, knowing her too well, but his eyes twinkled with what she knew to be love and genuine fondness. He stepped up to the table and looked down at the gifts and the lightness in his eyes vanished, and she knew in his mind, he was somewhere with her mother, reliving some moment that mirrored this one. He seemed lost at times, especially at this new role of ambassador. How could a man whose strategies and daring had won the space battle against the Ottoman Empire of Euphrates Prime not be able to make his way through a receiving line? Battle tactics, command and personnel decisions, he could handle. Receptions were another matter. Brett’s mother had guided him through those, telling him who each person was, leaning in to give him insights on the current administrations of the planets where they’d been assigned. Even letting him know through her female contacts who might vote his

way or who might stand against him in matters of policy. Her mother’s shoes looked enormous. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get the hang of all this. Mom was so…flawless.” Brett shrugged. “She was raised for it.” “Honey, your mother could handle anyone and anything. You’re a lot like her, Brett. You just can’t see it.” “I’ll never match her grace and elegance, not to mention her impeccable manners or her ability to hold her tongue.” Brett flashed him a wicked grin. Butler grinned back. “She was a true Earth blue blood. Her father almost choked when she chose a career soldier to marry.” “Who became a general and one of the most decorated heroes of the Jihad Wars.” Brett jerked her chin up. She knew he hated being called a hero and felt he’d only done what he’d been honor bound to do, but she was so proud of him. “Your mother was just as comfortable dealing with admirals and generals as she was the Daughters of the Republic or the people she worked with at the homeless shelters,” he said. “She kept me in line.” For a moment, love, remembrance, and loss flickered in his eyes. How can I be her daughter?

She touched the commlink disguised as a bracelet and spoke to their manservant, James. James entered the library. “The cars are ready, sir.” “Thank you, James. You’ll be riding with Brett.” “Of course, sir.” He nodded and picked up the large gift-wrapped box and the long wooden case, both presents for the king and his queen, and carried them to the waiting car. Butler, now in his role of ambassador, extended his arm to Brett; she took it, and together they walked through the large marble-floored foyer and out the double doors of the Ambassador’s Residence. Two large hover cars waited under the portico. The first driver, an ensign, saluted Butler. He opened the door for Brett and then returned to take his position behind the steering console to program in their destination. One of the many routes to the Palace appeared on the screen. For security, his counterpart in the following car would travel a different, randomly chosen route. Butler waited until Brett settled in the back of the car next to the gifts. “Clear screen, please, ensign,” he ordered. The young soldier pressed a button and the windows’ heavy dark tint faded to clear, and Brett’s heart did a quick double beat. For a moment, she was back in the

car on Alpha V, staring at the back of her dead driver’s head. Then James climbed in the seat next to the driver, her father closed the door and signaled for the driver to go on, and she was back in the here and now. She adjusted her hair to cover her ear, then sank back against the cushioned seat.

Butler watched as the most precious thing in his life drove off like a moving target in an old-time arcade. His heart rose into his throat as he watched the vehicle turn a corner and disappear. Ears straining, he listened for any sounds that seemed out of place. Like cannon fire. With a soft whine of the air jets, the next vehicle floated up and settled at the curb. With a last look at the street, Butler slid into the back, and the door closed. “Clear screen,” he ordered. Anyone who looked inside could see that the Ambassador of Old Earth rode alone. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Chapter Two Captain Stephen Brandon eyed the beautiful women passing either alone or on the arm of some man and shrugged. Another boring reception. Another night of his life wasted. Another crop of young women paraded before him and the other unmarried aristocrats in hopes of making a marriage match. His cousin, Captain Johann Stuart, nudged him with an elbow. “Angela Walvers looks excellent tonight, Stephen,” Johann remarked as a beautiful young woman strolled past. “Yes. We parted company several years ago.” Stephen nodded at her, and she nodded back. He had no idea how he managed to stay on such good terms with his former lovers, but he did. If he were pressed, he would have said he’d never been that important to them in the first place. Or maybe they’d just gotten tired of his disinterest in them and moved on. “A mutual decision, no doubt.” Johann grinned. “Hers, actually. I would have preferred to continue.” He only had himself to blame. And his reputation as a perpetual bachelor, although a very eligible one, only added fuel to the fire.

Another woman floated by. “Her?” Johann dropped his voice to a whisper. “Married.” “What about…” He tilted his head in the direction of a tall brunette. “A previous encounter. Very brief.” Yes, she’d taken him to her bed, then refused to take his calls. He’d gotten the message soon enough; no sense in being a fool over it. Two women strolled past in matching gowns. Twins. “Now, I know for a fact…” Johann lifted his hand. “Two years ago.” Stephen sighed. He’d escorted them as a favor to his mother, Lady Diane Brandon, but he knew it was another of her attempts to see him wed. “Both of them?” “Not at once! Good Lord, cousin.” Stephen gasped. Johann just shrugged. A distinguished older woman walked past and gave Stephen a slow seductive smile. Johann’s eyebrow rose as he shot his cousin a glance. “The Duchess?” Stephen snorted. “I have no intentions of being shot in her bed. Duke Marshfield is jealous to a fault and a very good shot with a pistol.”

There was no need for that dishonor to his family’s name. Both Stephen and Johann were second cousins to Queen Beatrice herself. Being shot in a lover’s quarrel wouldn’t sit well with his mother or his grandfather, Duke Alistair Brandon. Johann remarked, “Not a very good selection, is it cousin? You’re going to be hard-pressed to find a partner tonight you have not already danced with.” He smiled at the goad. “It’s not so much the lack of partners. If I wanted, there would be plenty. It’s the lack of feeling,” he said. “Women these days are not afraid to take a lover at court. In fact, I sometimes wonder if the whole court revolves around supplying lovers for the aristocracy.” He chuckled. “Don’t complain, cousin, you’ve had your share. And some of mine too.” He motioned with his wine glass. “And yet, you are the one married and starting a family, while I am still unattached. Alone. The very bane of my grandfather’s existence and a disappointment to my mother.” “That’s a problem of your own making, cousin. You’ve sequestered yourself in that damn dingy, small cube of yours at HQ. Come out to dinner with Helena and me this week. We’ll go to the officers’ club.”

“I’ll think about it,” Stephen said, knowing he’d find some way of backing out. The women he met at the club bored him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but of late, all their small talk merely grated on his nerves, and he thought most of the women silly and empty-headed. At least, they acted that way. “Face it; even though you try to hide it, you’re a romantic, Stephen. That could be taken as a fault, you know. Why not just let your family hire the marriage broker and arrange something if you feel that desperate?” Johann bowed at a passing couple and then sipped his drink. Stephen winced. “Arranged? Has it come to that? Is there no hope of love for me?” He nodded to another passing couple who stared into each other’s eyes as if they were the only people in the large ballroom. Why had he never found “the one” when all around him, men, regardless of looks, position, or fortune, managed to find brides? When he was in his twenties, he’d been as free as a lark and just as happy. Now that his thirties had arrived, he’d settled down to his duties, not only to his work, but to his family. And having his grandfather nipping at his heels like one of his hunting hounds, pressing him to pick a woman and get the hell on with it, didn’t help. He looked down his body’s six-foot length and made a mental inventory. Uniform clean and pressed.

Check. Boots shined. Check. White gloves clean. Check. His sidearm had been left behind. No weapons, not even their ceremonial swords, were allowed in the Palace, except for the ones the royal guards carried. “Cousin, you have everything—rank, honor, and title. Well, for your grandfather’s sake, not Duke too soon. You have money and a career. Don’t be so greedy,” Johann chided him. “Greed, is that what you call it? Just so, I’d give it all up for a woman who looks at me the way Helena looks at you.” He glanced over to where Helena stood chatting with a friend of hers. “Well, if you don’t find a wife soon, cousin, the duke will have your head on a platter.” Even Johann knew of the pressure the duke had put on Stephen and reveled in it. “Maybe I should take the duchess up, if only to have her duke shoot me. Might be easier than dealing with Grandfather. Disappointing him seems to be my lot in life these days.” Stephen shook his head and finished off his wine. “Still having his ‘gatherings’ at Brandon House?” Stephen nodded as he exchanged the empty glass for a full one from a passing tray carried by one of the servants. “You are still his favorite topic, yes?” “Oh, yes. He frequently discusses my lack of a wife and his lack of grandchildren with his old

friends. I’m getting used to their pitying looks as they leave. I try to make it a point never to visit on those nights, but he will insist I appear for dinners.” “I can just imagine. The stories they must tell. Do you realize that with any luck we’ll never have those tales to tell? Good God, the Jihad Wars.” Johann shivered. “Your grandfather’s exploits alone could fill a book.” “Yes. I grew up hearing those as bedtime stories. Pretty gruesome, actually. Gave me some context about Father and how he died, though. Mother never really talked about it.” Stephen sipped his wine. “He died a hero, Stephen,” Johann said softly. “A hero I barely remember.” A pang of guilt struck him. How do I live up to that? Johann gave him a steady hand on his shoulder, meant to reassure. “Do you think in time, it will be us sitting around the table at Brandon House?” Stephen asked Johann. “No doubt. We’ll spend our time reliving our glory days and talking about our sons, daughters, and grandchildren.” Johann laughed. Stephen winced. Did he find solace in that thought or dread? And what would he have to offer to that circle?

***

“Now, Brett. Let’s knock ‘em dead,” Ambassador Jonathan Butler whispered into his daughter’s right ear. She tucked her long black hair behind her ear, a recent habit she'd picked up in order to hear him better. “Right, sir. Weapons locked and loaded.” She reached out to straighten his red ascot and run her hand down the lapel of his suit. The black tails looked good on him. The man was built to wear a uniform, and it didn’t matter which one it was. “You present the gifts, Brett. You know I hate that sort of thing.” “I’d planned on it.” “It’s only fair after all; you selected them.” He touched her chin with the back of his hand and winked. “I would have brought them something awful, like a stuffed buffalo head.” “Not the one on the wall of the library back home? That’s your favorite! You wouldn’t have parted with Old Bill, would you?” “And give up great-great-great Grandfather’s trophy? Not for all the ambassadorships in the galaxy.” He shook his head. “It’s time to go in.” Brett motioned to the servant who was waiting for them to enter the ballroom. “Right. Damn the torpedoes,” he intoned in her ear.

“Full speed ahead,” she answered as they stepped through the carved double doors and into the Grand Ballroom.

*** “Good Lord, Brandon, who is this?” Johann leaned over to his cousin. Stephen looked up. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stood in the doorway on the arm of an older man; the ambassador from Earth, if he recognized the insignia on the sash correctly. “I have no idea. The new ambassador’s wife?” Stephen asked. Breathe, boy. “Lucky bastard.” Johann looked closer. “No, too young. The man must be her father.” “God, I hope so. I’ll slit my throat if she’s married to him.” Stephen looked for a place to put down his drink. He found an empty tray on a stand and left his glass there. Taking a quick look at himself in the reflective glass of the garden doors, he tried to get that lock of hair that always fell over his brow to stay put. It seemed his hair did not intend to humor him in his moment of need.

Turning back to the crowd and taking his place at Johann’s side, Stephen watched the young woman and the ambassador make their way toward the ceremony hall, stopping every now and then to speak to various people. “Stop her, Cousin. Introduce us, in the name of God and my grandfather,” Stephen whispered hoarsely. “Practically no difference there.” Johann snorted. “You’re pathetic, Cousin. The first fresh pretty face you see in a year, and you’re falling over yourself to get to her. Look around, man. You’re not the only one.” Johann motioned with his drink around the ballroom. Conversation in the room had halted as everyone turned and stared at the pair. “Good Lord! Has she no sense of propriety?” Helena joined her husband to stand at his elbow. “What is she wearing?” Stephen took his eyes off the stranger’s face and looked at her clothes. The suit she wore looked like some sort of leather, black and white with silver buttons. Long fringe ran down the underarms and across the back of her long fitted jacket and dangled from the hem of her knee length riding skirt to the tops of her boots. Her black-tooled boots were trimmed in silver on the toes and heels. Stephen’s face broke into a wide grin. “A riding skirt and boots, I believe.”

“Good Lord,” Helena said with a gasp. The young woman had pulled her waist-length black hair back on one side and held it in place with a silver and turquoise jeweled comb. The other side fell loose. The color of the turquoise matched perfectly her blue-green eyes. “Well, she’s like no one I’ve ever seen,” Johann admitted. “She’s so exotic,” Stephen murmured. “So very off world.” “She’ll never fit in here. She’s doomed,” Helena declared, and everyone nodded. “Then, we must save her.” Stephen stepped forward.

Chapter Three “I see the ambassador from Century IV. I need to speak with him,” Butler told Brett. “Go to work, sir. I’m sure the tariff vote will go your way.” Her father headed off to corner the poor ambassador, leaving her alone. When she turned around a tall, handsome man in a uniform stood in front of her. Behind him, a man, similarly dressed, and a beautiful woman. Backups. She recognized the frozen look of uncertainty in their eyes. And from the expectant look on the officer’s face, he must be their leader. She’d see what he had to say before she dispatched him. The young officers wore their dress uniforms: black trousers, gold piping, red jackets with gold epaulets, and gleaming black riding boots. Behind them, stood one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in a glorious gown that floated around her legs. Brett stood waiting, head cocked, eyebrows up. The young man swallowed and stuck out his hand. “Good evening, miss. I’d like to welcome you to New Commonwealth.” Straight white teeth flashed in

a killer smile. With dimples. Oh, he’d broken a few hearts, no doubt. She looked him up and down. His smile faded as her cool glance made it clear she wasn’t impressed. “Good evening.” Taking his gloved hand, she gave it a firm shake. His large hand swallowed hers, but he had a gentle touch, despite being startled by her grip. Intending to move on, she found some unseen force pressed their hands together, forcing her to take a longer look at this man. Tall, broad shouldered but lean, his thick, dark brown hair matched his brown eyes. Deep brown eyes with long, dark lashes. He was altogether the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Still, Brett never gave up an advantage. Never. She held her disinterested gaze despite the smile that threatened to spread over her face. He looked into her eyes, his head tilted to the side just a little, studying her as if she were the answer to a question. When he finally released her hand, despite all her resolve, she found herself wishing for it back. “Brett Butler,” she introduced herself. 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 that had affected 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 and his wife Lady Helena Stuart.” She nodded to them in turn. Brett spoke, “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 that 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 that 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 that effortless grace. “Yes, it’s leather. It was a proud steer that 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. “That 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 that I’m traveling with my father. I miss the ranch. It’s where I call home.”

The conversation stalled, and Brett scanned the room. That 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 that signal all right. He watched as Brett nodded ever so slightly. Well, it made sense she’d understand those hand signals; her father had been a military man, 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. 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 that 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 patterns that changed 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. 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, depicting 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 militarystyled 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 had 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 that had followed 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, that 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. 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 that 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 had selected every scrap of fabric and had laid out the entire thing, leaving the heavy cutting and piecing to her family as she readied for the long trip. It had taken Brett 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. “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’s head rocked with the shot as a nimbus of pain enveloped her body, short-circuiting her nervous system. Her legs gave way, and she crumpled, the case slipping from her grasp. It slammed shut as it hit the ground. In that brief moment, Brett heard only silence as her body twitched, but she could still see everything on a tilted odd angle.

“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 that 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 apologize for my guard’s actions,” William said.

Brett rolled to her side and tried to sit up, pushing the guard away. “Lord Brandon?” She had 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 had stopped spinning, and she could move again. She tried to focus on his face. Touching his cheek with one finger as if 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 had?

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 that?” 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? “The driver was killed instantly, and Brett was injured,” Butler continued. Brett signaled to Stephen that 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. “Sgt. Fitzsimmons, my driver, was killed instantly, and I was…inconvenienced,” she corrected her father with a wave of her hand toward her ear. “Luckily, she had the presence of mind to pull her Taser, and when the attacker came over to check the vehicle, she shot him.” Butler sounded proud of her actions. She closed her eyes. The horror of the scene played in her mind. The flash of the explosion. The sound wave rocking the car. Silence. The sergeant’s destroyed body in the front seat. His blood all over the front windshield and on the seat next to her. She’d sat directly behind him, leaning into the corner, and his seat had blocked the explosion and the spray of bloody matter from touching her evening gown. Utter silence echoed. A moment later, everything sounded as if she was underwater and an intense pain in her head made her faint. A man, disrupter drawn, walked up to the car. Deafened, she desperately searched for her purse on the floor of the vehicle. Her shaking fingers clutched her evening bag, pulled it open to find her Taser. The door opened… “What happened to your attacker? Who was he?” Captain Stuart asked. He had scraped the remains of the hearing aid into a small envelope and sealed it.

“A jihadist who’d been smuggled onto the planet. He was executed,” Brett replied. “On Alpha V, they use hanging.” Ambassador Butler frowned at his daughter. “I still wish you hadn’t gone to the execution, Brett. Hanging is an ugly death. You shouldn’t have had to watch that.” Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment, and then she shook her head. “Not as ugly as Sgt. Fitzsimmons’s death.” She addressed William. “You see, the sergeant’s mother had asked me to stand with her during the execution. She had no one else on Alpha V. Her son died in our service; it was the least I could do for her.” William turned to the guard who fired the Taser and motioned him forward with a small movement of his index finger. The guard holstered his weapon, stepped up, and awaited his fate. He appeared no older than she, and despite his efforts to hide it, she could see he was frightened. She cleared her throat and spoke, “Your Highness, I must commend your guards. It is obvious to me they are highly trained. You’re fortunate to have such men attend you. This officer didn’t hesitate to act. In other circumstances, a fatal mistake. ‘Shoot first, ask questions later’ can be the only policy. It’s certainly one I’ve employed.” She rubbed her temple, then continued. “I also thank him for having his

weapon set on low. Now, the only question is whether I live or die.” “What are you talking about, Brett?” her father asked. “Dad,” Brett said, keeping her gaze locked with William’s. “It’s a crime to draw a weapon in the presence of the king. The penalty is death.” Her father’s face registered confusion, then reddened as he turned toward the king. “You can’t seriously think she meant to kill you, do you? If you think I’ll let that happen—” Butler’s voice rose. Fists clenched, he stepped forward. The guards edged closer, hands on their swords. Brett reached out to him. “Dad.” If she didn’t diffuse this situation, her father might only make it worse. He ignored her. “If you’re planning to drag my daughter out into the street and have her beheaded over this—” His brows furrowed in concern, but his eyes burned with determination. “We have diplomatic immunity.” “Dad, you have diplomatic immunity. I have only the king’s grace,” Brett reminded him as she looked to the king. William’s lip twitched in a smile and then straightened. “That is true, Miss Butler.”

Brett saluted her father smartly and in a loud stage whisper she said, “General Butler, I fear we’re surrounded and outnumbered.” Butler paused. He blew out his breath and then gave a soundless laugh. His body visibly relaxed as he moved to parade rest. Clasping his hands behind his back, he looked as if he still stood on the bridge of his star destroyer awaiting a briefing. “Well, Major, what do you propose?” “You take the 1000 on the left; I’ll take the 1000 on the right,” she said. After a beat, they both burst into laughter. The tension broken, the entire group of onlookers joined in. “Please, there is no need for such tactics,” William said, holding up his hands as if to ward them off. “Between the two of you, my guards wouldn’t stand a chance.” Brett grinned, knowing there was a lot more truth to his statement than even he realized. “Perhaps, Your Highness, since I didn’t actually ‘draw’ so much as ‘display’ a weapon, we could call it a case of”—Brett searched for the right words—“indecent exposure?” Stephen took Brett’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm, holding her possessively at his side as they awaited the king’s decision. She didn’t fight her body’s urge to lean into him.

Beatrice placed a hand on William’s arm, leaned in, and whispered in his ear, and Brett held her breath. “Indecent exposure, yes. A much lesser crime.” William nodded. Captain Stuart motioned to the case on the ground. “Is that rifle really what it says on the brass?” “Oh, yes. It was presented to one of my father’s forefathers by Teddy Roosevelt, a president of the United States in the early twentieth century. Captain Jonas Butler was one of his Rough Riders in the Spanish American war. There were only ten such presidential rifles issued, and only two survive. I pulled this one out of the Smithsonian. I thought it would be much more appreciated here. They never display it anyway.” She shrugged her shoulders. Motioning for a guard to retrieve the case and hold it up, William undid the latches and opened it. His eyes shone as he traced the etching with his gloved fingers. “It is magnificent. It will add to my collection. I thank you. And I do apologize for any ‘inconvenience’ my guard may have caused you,” he said with a tilt of his head. “What am I going to do with you?” Butler reached out and touched Brett’s cheek.

“Well, at least it was nothing I had to shoot my way out of this time. Done that before, not fun,” Brett whispered a loud aside to him. She turned back to William. “We’ve taken up so much of His Majesty’s time. The line behind us must be growing long; we should move to the other room. I would like something cool to drink and some fresh air to clear my head.” She curtsied to William and Beatrice. Butler bowed. Stephen, still holding onto Brett’s arm, gave William and his cousin a brief bow and led the Ambassador and their small party out. Brett clutched her escort’s arm, thankful he still had his arm around her waist. Good Lord, that could have been far worse, she thought, until she noticed the shocked expressions of the people staring at her as she passed. With her heart sinking, head pounding, and stomach still unsettled, she knew her mother’s size seven high heels were still far too big for her to fill.

Chapter Five “Look at Stephen, Helena. I believe he’s smitten!” Johann nudged his wife as they stood off to the side watching Stephen fuss over Brett. “I don’t blame him, she is—” Helena was at a loss for words. Johann chimed in, “Aristocratic. How can you be so aristocratic without being born into the nobility?” “I’m not sure, but she is,” Helena shrugged. “She’s certainly very beautiful. I don’t think Stephen has ever come across a woman quite like this one.” Johann smiled at the thought of Stephen being the one for once to be enamored of the girl, instead of the other way round. Helena watched Brett. “I think if Stephen is not careful, he will get this girl.” “Brandon finally married?” Johann shook his head. “He’s the last of us to fall.” “Lady Diane won’t like it, I can tell you that much. An off-worlder was not what she had planned for him.” Helena shook her head. Johann added, “I’m not worried about his mother. It’s his grandfather that concerns me.”

Together, they walked over to Stephen and Miss Butler.

*** Brett pulled a minivid out of her pocket and opened the case so Helena, who'd taken a seat next to her, could see Black. “Johann, Brett has a horse. She brought him all the way from Earth,” Helena told her husband as he approached them. Brett held out the vid, displaying moving images of her horse. Johann leaned in and gazed at the animal. “What breed is that?” “Appaloosa. His name is Butler's Black Gold, out of Butler’s Black Diamond, by Gordon’s Gold Dust. He’s ten years old. I was there the night he was born.” She didn’t hide her affectionate smile at the animal. He was solid black except for an artist’s brush splatter of white spots across his rump. “Those are unusual markings,” Johann noted. “The spots are the Appaloosa trademark.” She turned off the vid and closed the case. “What I would really like is some fresh air to clear my head.” She

sighed as she rubbed the back of her neck. The Taser’s effect had worn off, but left a residual ache. “Miss Butler, if you’d allow me?” Stephen offered her his arm again. “The palace gardens are truly lovely.” She hesitated, and then slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. He covered it with his hand. It was warm and reassuring. She took a deep breath and settled herself. “Sure. That’d be nice, Lord Brandon.” Stephen guided her away from the group, out of the nearest set of open doors into the gardens, and down the path. Tucked under a vine-covered arbor nestled a small wooden bench. She sat, and Stephen slid onto the bench next to her. His leg rubbed against hers, but she made no motions to escape his touch. A touch that made her body heat. So unlike General Mace on Alpha V, the last man who had touched her. She’d tried to be open to his proposal of marriage, but every time she looked at Mace, he reminded her of a toad, a huge man with no neck and jowls. But for her father’s sake, she’d tried. She even let the general kiss her, knowing if she agreed to marriage it would be that and more she’d have to endure. She found it so repulsive she feigned a choking fit to end it.

That’s when he’d put his hands on her breasts. She had been infuriated and reprimanded him for it. He’d clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. Warning bells went off in her head, and she refused him the next day by console. He didn’t deserve to be refused in person. However, now as she sat beside Stephen, their thighs touching, she felt a pull toward him. Placing his fingers under her chin, he turned her head to face him. “Miss Butler,” Stephen whispered. His gaze started at her eyes and eventually focused on her lips. His thumb touched her bottom lip and a jolt shot straight through her. Brett’s heart galloped. She’d never felt like this before. Not even with Mark, one of the young officers she’d first served with, during their brief affair. He’d received his promotion, and it had been a mutual decision he should take the transfer. It hadn’t been love for either of them, merely convenience and comfort. Stephen leaned. She closed her eyes and waited, her breath stilled, for contact. Soft lips pressed against hers. Retracted and kissed her again. He brushed his lips back and forth against hers. A chain of gentle kisses followed, each kiss leading to the next. Each made her body tighten and ache for more. Brett’s arms slipped around Stephen's neck and

pulled him tightly to her body. She wanted more than just his gentle kisses. She touched her tongue to his lips, requesting to be let in. He gasped, and she took advantage. Exploring his mouth with her tongue, she found the inside of his lips, his tongue. She pulled his tongue into her mouth and sucked it, and he moaned. She felt the pull of his body’s heat down to her core. He tasted of the wine he’d drunk, the mint of his toothpaste, and something more. He met her fervor with heat of his own. His hand combed through her hair as he pulled her closer. Arousal swept through her as her nipples tightened and her core dampened. Her response to him was completely new. Foreign. Exciting. Or perhaps it was she who was different? “Lord Brandon,” she whispered as their lips parted. That had been a kiss she’d felt to her toes and back. She wanted to feel that again and again. And more. Now. What am I doing? She’d just met this man and knew nothing of him. Only that his kisses drove her crazy, made her want him. She should be cautious and not rush into anything. Oh but she wanted to rush, wanted to lose herself in Stephen’s arms, in his kiss, in his body. She pulled away and swallowed. “Lord Brandon, I shouldn’t be out here kissing you. I don’t even know

you.” He probably thought she was some off-planet wanton woman. “Well, what do you want to know?” He smiled. “The kind of things that can’t be learned by kissing. In the moonlight. In a beautiful garden.” She waved a hand. “And I hardly know you. And yet, you’ve swept me off my feet.” A set of deep dimples flashed in his cheeks, and her heart skipped a beat. She laughed. “All right. Let’s start with the basics. How old are you?” “That’s easy, I know that one. I’m thirty-four.” “Thirty-four. For a man, a stream, a river, a torrent of experience could pass under that bridge. Just exactly how much water has passed under that bridge?” She leaned back to look at him warily. “A river in my younger days. Now, a mere trickle.” He pushed that unruly lock of hair off his forehead. “And you? Has much water flowed under your bridge?” he teased her. “Honestly, I don’t have much of a bridge for a river, much less a trickle, to go under it.” She shrugged. “I’ve only had one long-term relationship, but it ended. A mutual decision. Lately, I’ve been too busy traveling with my father.” “Oh. Relationships. I haven’t had too many of those.”

“But, you just said…” Brett caught his meaning. “Just sex, huh?” He blinked at her, obviously surprised at her boldness. “Yes. As you say, just sex. Nothing more.” “So is it just sex you want from me? Or something more?” She needed to know where she stood. If he wanted an affair, she was fine with it; she hadn’t been looking for anything more. But his kisses made her think of more. “I’m in desperate need of something more.” He touched her face, his fingers trailing across her cheek. “More?” She wanted more of him, his lips, and his hands on her body. His body covering her body. Enmeshed and entwined. “Just how many hearts have you broken?” “A few, I admit. But that was long ago. And you? Broken a few hearts?” “No, not that I’m aware. And I’ve never had my heart broken, either.” Would that be was how this would end? Sweet words, promises, and then heartbreak? “Let me court you, Miss Butler.” He laced his fingers with hers and brought them to his lips for a kiss. “Court me?” She sat up. What is the man talking about? This is not what she expected. Sleep with her, perhaps. Have an affair, a fling, but court? Who did that anymore?

“Yes, court. It’s where a man and a woman spend time together to see if they can have a deeper relationship,” he explained. “I know what it is. I’ve just never heard it called that before. How long do people on New Commonwealth usually court?” She was only here for a year. “Until they either announce their betrothal or go their separate ways.” He shrugged. “Betrothal?” she squeaked. “Yes. I speak of marriage. Does that shock you?” It did, but Brett shook her head. He had to be joking. “Let me court you, understanding my intention leads to marriage.” His steady gaze held no hint of jest. He was dead serious. She’d flirted with thoughts of marriage, but she’d never really expected to find anyone she found acceptable. “Kiss me again,” she commanded him. She wanted to see if it was a fluke, a one-time thing. An illusion due to the night, the garden, and the Taser shot to her head. He kissed her. God, shoot me again. She slipped under his spell, letting her body react to his. His tongue brushed her lips, delving between hers, searching out her tongue. She answered his call and sucked on his tongue. He groaned deep in his throat. She felt its vibration to

her core as it surged past damp to hot and wet and wanting. She wondered how it would feel to have his fingers satisfy her, instead of her own. This is moving entirely too fast. She pulled away from him. “We should be going back inside, Lord Brandon. My father must be looking for me by now.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t.” “What do you mean you can’t?” “You have, uh, affected me, Miss Butler. Perhaps it would be best if we sat here for a few moments, so I can regain my composure. I’m afraid we would both be embarrassed if I stood up just now.” She glanced down. His uniform trousers bulged. Brett couldn’t help but notice it was an impressive bulge. Oh, yes, how good would that feel? She longed to touch him, find out just how large he was, how firm and how hot his flesh would be in her hand. She looked up, met his eyes, and heat filled her face, burning its way up to her scalp. How long had she stared at the evidence of his desire? His dark eyes held fire, passion, all just within her reach. “Then by all means let’s talk a little while longer, Lord Brandon.” She edged away from him on the bench. They looked around the garden. “It’s very pretty, the garden,” she said. “Oh, yes. And there are lots of stars out tonight.” The silence stretched.

“How long will this take?” “Well, if you weren’t sitting next to me, just a few minutes. But you’re here, your thigh touching mine, I can smell the perfume you’re wearing, feel the warmth of your body.” He shrugged, looking as helpless as a puppy. She laughed. “So we could be here all night?” “Possibly.” He exhaled. “It would help if you moved just a little ways from me.” She shifted over to the edge of the bench. “Like this?” “Yes.” They fell silent again. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she asked, “Are you recovered now?” “Recovered, yes.” He slapped his hands to his thighs and stood. He offered his arm to her. “May I call on you tomorrow, Miss Butler? For tea?” “Tea?” Was he serious? “Yes. You’ll find we drink tea all the time here on Commonwealth. Especially when we’re courting.” He winked at her. “Well, then, of course. Tea would be fine.” She hoped James knew what having tea meant and could have one prepared for her. Arm in arm, they headed back to the reception as if nothing had happened. They entered the hall

through the open doors and watched as couples danced to the waltz the orchestra played. “I believe you saved a dance for me, Miss Butler?” She nodded, barely able to control her smile. When the music stopped and began again, he led her to the floor, and they stood in the four couple pattern for a reel. Brett had practiced the more popular court dances during the last two months as part of her research on the planet and its customs, so she needed little guidance as they moved through the elaborate pattern.

*** Helena and Lady Diana Brandon, Stephen’s mother, stood together just off the dance floor. Lady Diana’s clear blue eyes narrowed as she watched her son dance with the new ambassador’s daughter. “They look very good together, don’t you think, Lady Diane?” “Hmm, she’s not Commonwealth. Why do all the young men want off-worlders nowadays?” The disdain in her voice matched her frown. “I want him married, but to the right woman. Not some exotic off-

worlder without a shred of understanding about the ways of our world.” “She’s very different, there’s no getting past that.” “Different, exotic. It won’t matter. Nailing Stephen down will be like trying to nail water to a tree.” Diana waved her hand in aggravation. “Lord knows I’ve tried so many times to get him to settle on someone.” “Perhaps that’s the problem. He’d be settling. Up until now it’s not been the right someone.” Helena smiled, knowing Johann’s reputation prior to their betrothal. The other women in Johann’s life had rapidly disappeared once he’d met her. “Stephen’s wife needs to be very aware of his station, of his future responsibilities as a duke. She must know how to best utilize her own skills to insure he always excels, both in his military career and in his future political career. After all, as duke he will take over his grandfather’s seat in the House of Lords,” Diane continued. “Well, she’s the Ambassador’s social secretary; she must have some knowledge of social duties.” Helena shrugged. “I don’t like those looks he’s giving her.” Diane frowned. “Don’t be surprised if you are arranging for a marriage broker shortly.” Helena wasn’t sure it would be for the best, but if Stephen were happy, that

should be the only thing that counted. And she’d never seen Stephen so happy, so enamored of a woman. “Look at that outfit! So masculine. She’ll never fit in here.” Diane sniffed. “I don’t think that matters, Lady Diane. Look at him. The goofy smile, the light in his eyes. He looks just like Johann did when we first met.” She laughed. “He’s in love already. When was the last time that happened?” “For Stephen, never, I think. At least that I know of. But she’s still not Commonwealth.” She sniffed again disapprovingly and took a sip of her wine. “Worse, a general’s daughter, not even titled.”

*** The music ended. Stephen led Brett to the chair she had been sitting in and went to get her a cup of punch. She managed to catch her breath from the lively dance, enjoying the way her heart raced, although she wasn’t sure if it had been the dance or the man she’d danced with. A very distinguished older man approached Brett. He appeared about seventy perhaps and wore a

uniform; the insignia ranked him as a colonel. What could this gentleman want of her? A dance, perhaps? “Miss Butler, I presume?” He bowed to her. She rose and curtsied. “You have me at a disadvantage, Colonel.” “Duke Alistair Brandon, your dance partner’s grandfather.” He offered her his hand, and she took it as he studied her. “Duke Brandon, it’s very nice to meet you!” She beamed at him and remained standing. “I can certainly see where Lord Brandon gets his good looks, sir.” “And I can see I’m going to like you.” He grinned. “But then again, I’ve always had an eye for a beautiful woman.” “Like grandfather, like grandson?” He chuckled. “Fair enough. Have you been walking in the moonlight with my grandson, Miss Butler?” He raised an eyebrow at her. She caught the twinkle in his blue eyes. “Yes,” she answered. “I needed some fresh air.” “And was it fresh?” Duke Brandon raised a white eyebrow. “Very. I feel quite refreshed.” “Stephen, I’m sure, must have his charms. Most of the women here,” he waved his hand to take in the room, “seem to think so.”

“And yet, he’s not married. And I’m not like most of these women.” She shot a sly smile at him. “Indeed.” He raised an eyebrow. Brett studied the elder Brandon. He was tall and distinguished, his gray hair still thick. The shape of his cheekbones and forehead mirrored Stephen’s, but the mouth was different. Stephen’s lips were soft and full; this man’s were thin. But she could see that in his day he would have turned a few feminine heads himself. “Do you like horses, sir?” She pulled out the minivid of Black and showed it to him. They sat, and the old duke nodded, making appreciative noises as the images of Black displayed.

Chapter Six Stephen returned with the drinks. He stopped so short he nearly spilled them all over his uniform. Grandfather and Brett? Sitting next to each other, their heads bent together, discussing that damned horse. It was almost too much for him. The duke looked up, and the corner of his thin mouth quirked. “Oh, Stephen, there you are. Pull up a chair and sit with us.” With us? That had been his chair. How did you find her so fast, old man? He handed one of the drinks to Brett. His grandfather took the drink Stephen had meant for himself. “Thanks, boy, how did you know I was thirsty?” His eyes glittered at Stephen. Stephen pulled a chair over, but the only place to put it was on the other side of the Duke. He sat and leaned around his grandfather to see Brett, but the Duke was in full discussion with her on the merits of the Appaloosa breed and blocked Stephen’s view of her. “And you say you raised him from a colt? And trained him yourself?”

“Yes. I’m usually at the stable in the afternoon, if I don’t have any duties to attend to. Come out anytime and visit him, if you like.” Brett closed the vid and stuffed it back into her jacket pocket. “Absolutely, my dear. I look forward to it.” They both stood. Stephen slowly stood, too. The Duke bowed to Brett and then turned to his grandson. “Stephen, Brandon House. Tomorrow, for dinner.” It was not an invitation, but a command. “Yes, sir.” Stephen nodded and watched as the Duke moved away to join a small group of his cronies, smoothly entering their conversation. Stephen slid over into the empty chair next to her. “Sorry for that,” he muttered. “Why? I found him charming, Lord Brandon. It must run in the family. Besides, it’s the first time I’ve ever been checked out by a grandfather.” Her hand came to rest on his thigh. Fire shot up his leg, burying itself in his groin. As if she felt the same jolt, she pulled her hand away. Good Lord, he wanted this woman. She’d even put up with his grandfather. And managed to charm him. No small feat, that. Could she be that perfect? A winter wedding, or in the spring? Would she mind having a boy first or did she have her heart set on a girl? He almost shook his head, startled by the thoughts that popped into his head.

She is the one. Had Johann known with such certainty Helena was the one for him? I must ask him. Brett sipped her drink as Stephen sat with his hands clasped between his legs. He couldn’t let the conversation just die. He cleared his throat and pulled at his collar before speaking. “I have read about your father’s strategies during the Earth war against the Ottomans. You are lucky to have him. My father died in our war when I was six.” “I’m so sorry. That must have been very hard for you. Your mother never remarried?” She reached up as if to smooth the unruly lock of his hair back into place, but returned her hands to her lap. “No, I don’t think she ever got over losing him.” He looked down at his hands and rubbed them, palms down, on his thighs. This was ridiculous, he’d never been this nervous before, but then it had never counted for so much before. “Perhaps she never found anyone that could fill his shoes? I can understand that,” she said. “Perhaps. How do you fill a hero’s shoes?” The tone of his voice told of the pain buried beneath his words. Perhaps he and she weren’t so different after all. “With another hero?” she offered. This was going entirely too fast. She’d been on the planet less than a few days, and he’d already made

up his mind he wanted to marry her. That she was the one. How do you know if you’re in love? Just how big a fool am I? Was he mistaking lust for love? Lord Brandon sat next to Brett and inhaled deeply. Her scent went straight to his body, and it responded. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair, then down her throat to her… He blinked, swallowed, aware of a growing tightness in his trousers and strove to think about something else. He’d wanted other women before, so he was well aware of wanting, but this feeling for her was more than that. Well, he wanted her in his bed, unquestionably. Wanted to lay his body over hers, make slow love to her, and take her places she’d never been. Make her his and be by her side. He could see their life together. That had never happened before with any woman. It terrified him. Yet he craved what he lacked, what he thought he could have with her. But could she ever see herself with him?

***

Across the room, Johann had found Ambassador Butler. They discussed the current political situation of New Commonwealth and the upcoming tariff dispute. He’d hopes of sounding Butler out about his daughter, for Stephen’s sake. “I’m afraid that young Lord Brandon is barking up the wrong tree.” Butler motioned to the couple. “Why do you say that?” Johann cocked an eyebrow. “Brett just turned down an offer of marriage from a general. I’m not sure a captain will stand a chance.” Butler shook his head. “She looks very interested to me.” Stuart sipped his drink. “Yes, she does…how interesting.” Butler’s eyes narrowed as he watched closer. Stuart watched the ambassador and wondered if Stephen would find a friend or foe in her father. “Perhaps there’s hope, after all.” Butler said under his breath. “Hope?” “For grandchildren. At my age, grandchildren become so very important. Brett is very duty bound, very focused. Even after her military tour, I thought she’d find someone among the officers, but no.” He shook his head and looked again at his daughter. “Military career?” Johann froze with his wine glass halfway to his lips.

“Yes. She was a major in the United Nations Marines,” Butler said with pride. “Indeed.” Johann’s eyebrows rose. Lady Diane would have something to say about that bit of intelligence. The two men looked across the hall to Brett and Stephen. She laughed at some story he told her, and the toss of her hair was so very feminine. “Now,” Butler said. “That’s something I haven’t seen often. She’s flirting. And that young man certainly has that ‘in love’ look about him.” “Well, he has some sort of look.” Johann grinned. He thought Stephen looked quite smitten. “Lord Stuart, do you know this young man?” “As a matter of fact, I do, sir. We are cousins. He is my late Uncle Marston’s son.” “Really. Speak frankly; is he a good man? Will he trifle with my daughter? He seems a little old not to be attached. Has he good prospects? How is his career? I want a good man for her, a good husband.” Butler’s questions tumbled out. Johann paused, wondering what he should say. The truth would be best, but what was the truth? Would Stephen make a good husband? He’d made Captain before Johann did and was highly regarded at HQ, without really struggling to stand out. Everything seemed to come easily to him, reputation, rank, and women, many women. However, at thirty-

four, no woman had captured him. Stephen had watched as one by one his friends had married and settled down. “I have known Stephen his entire life, sir. We were boys together, then in the academy and later, in the same regiment. If he is truly in love, I don’t think your daughter would find a better man. He is thirtyfour and has never been formally attached to any woman. He’s sort of a perpetual bachelor.” He tried to word it as delicately as possible. “He has some…experience, sir.” Butler looked sideways at Stuart and caught his meaning. “I guess at thirty-four, if he wasn’t experienced, I would really be worried about him.” “Just so, sir.” Stuart tried to keep his side of the conversation to a minimum, in order not to say the wrong thing and ruin his cousin’s chances. Knowing Lady Diana, Stephen would need all the help he could get. “You said his father is dead?” The ambassador frowned. “Yes. He was a commander of the ground forces in the battle to defend New Commonwealth from the Ottomans. He was killed holding the Bristol shuttle port. He and all fifty of his men.” “Did they take the port?” Butler stiffened. The young lord and officer straightened and jutted out his chin.

“No sir. They held until our space forces stopped them. Not one ship landed.” Johann looked into some distant memory. He cleared his throat. “Stephen will be Duke Brandon one day, after his grandfather dies.” “So, he is from a good family?” “Duke Brandon is a war hero also, not unlike yourself. He was weapons master at HQ before his retirement. They still use him for consultations. Stephen’s mother is the Queen’s aunt and personal secretary. That was she who received the gifts tonight.” “That very attractive woman with the long blonde hair?” The ambassador’s eyebrows rose. “Yes. You noticed her?” “Well…” He paused. “I did, actually.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

Butler thought back to the woman at the Queen’s side. She looked younger than him, and she struck him as very attractive, deep blue eyes, full breasts, and a narrow waist. It surprised him. It’d been a long time since he’d noticed any woman, and certainly never during his marriage. Well, Lord Brandon’s mother was certainly wellplaced. He’d have to check this young officer out, however, on his own. The man’s reputation bothered him.

“Thank you, Lord Stuart, for your information and your honesty. I will just have to wait to see how this plays out.” Johann bowed slightly and moved off. To Butler’s chagrin, Ambassador Konig from Alpha V cornered him. The smirk on his face made Butler itch to knock it off. With his fist. Konig was always the last person he wanted to talk to. Ever. “Butler, am I right in hearing that your daughter pulled a gun on the Regent, was knocked to the floor, and you were both arrested?” His eyes gleamed as he told the rumor. “Konig, where do you get your intelligence from?” Butler kept his teeth showing in a tight smile. Konig’s smirk flickered as he pondered Butler’s words and meaning. Butler gave a bare nod toward Brett. She caught his eye and the quiet motion of his head. He needed her by his side. Now. Brett arrived, with her young man in tow, just as that windbag Konig opened his mouth to spout off. Instead, he turned to her. “I was just asking about your little,” he paused searching for the right word to say, “spectacle, Miss Butler.” “Oh, yes, I was so embarrassed.” Brett laughed and batted her eyes at him. Butler took a sip to hide his smile, and Stephen stared at her.

“Being stunned by a guard in an attempt to kill the King of New Commonwealth was merely embarrassing?” Konig’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that what you heard?” She laughed. “You must check your sources of information.” Lord Brandon laughed right on cue, shaking his head, as if disbelieving. “Well, what did happen?” Konig narrowed his eyes as he raised his drink to his mouth and sipped. “I was foolish, of course. I was so nervous about presenting the gifts that I just couldn’t eat a thing today. Well, I got all the way up to the front and did fine with the gift for the Queen, but when I turned to present the gift to the King, the room started to spin, and the next thing I knew I was lying on the floor right in front of him!” She managed a shrug and a smile. “Oh.” Konig sounded so disappointed, Butler was almost sorry for him, but not quite. “Lord Brandon helped me to my feet.” She placed her hand on Stephen’s arm as he nodded. “Apologies were said all round and accepted. I’m sure we will all laugh about it later.” She caught Konig in her steady gaze. “Indeed.” His efforts defeated, Konig turned and headed off after some new quarry. Butler winked at Brett. “Well done, Brett.”

His opinion of Stephen ratcheted up a notch. The boy was a good sport, at least, for not ratting them out. “Brett, it’s time to go, before we have to answer any more questions.” Butler looked at the two young people, unsure if he was eager to leave because he feared having to defend himself and Brett, or because he wanted them separated until he knew more about Brandon. “May I escort you to your car, Miss Butler?” Lord Brandon asked. “Thank you.” She smiled at her father’s raised eyebrows. He led her to the main doors where James waited for the vehicles to be brought around. Ambassador Butler followed them, watching Lord Brandon closely. “Ambassador Butler, good night. Miss Butler, until tomorrow.” Lord Stephen Brandon bowed to the ambassador and handed Brett over to Butler. He turned and went back inside the palace. The cars pulled up, and James opened the door. Butler turned to Brett and caught her hand. “A very interesting young man.” He searched her face. He wasn’t sure if he was hoping for a yes or a no.

“Very. He’s coming for tea tomorrow.” She got in the car and sat down. Butler leaned into the door and bit his lip. “Tea, eh? For what it’s worth, he seems a good man.” “We’ll see, General.” She smiled at him and sat back against the velvet cushions of the car. James closed the door and got in beside the driver. The car pulled off. “Have my car brought around.” A woman’s soft alto voice spoke behind him. Butler stepped back to see who had spoken. Lady Diana Brandon stood under the portico as she waited for her car. The soft moss green taffeta gown she wore complemented her eyes and blonde hair. She turned deep blue eyes on him. He smiled. She didn’t. “Lady Brandon.” He gave her a short bow. “Ambassador Butler,” she responded coolly. Her car arrived, and she swept down the steps and into the waiting cab of the car. Butler watched as she gave him a quick glance and then sat back against the seat. The windows of the car were mirrored. His view of her face and her body disappeared. All he could see was the hem of her gown and her feet. He was struck by the notion that he wanted to see her again.

His car pulled up, and the footman opened the door for him. Butler gave the driver the order to clear the windows and took his seat. The door closed, and they pulled away from the curb. Butler pressed a button on the armrest, and a door slid open. He reached in and removed the weapon hidden there. After checking the charge, he laid the stunner across his lap, his finger on the trigger.

Chapter Seven Jonathan sat across from Lord Brandon, balancing the plate of tiny tea sandwiches on his knee and sipping his tea. Brett was fifteen minutes late coming back from the stables, and Jonathan had run out of small talk about two minutes previous. They had covered the weather, both on Old Earth and New Commonwealth, how he found his new residence, and whether he followed any sports. There were a lot of questions Jonathan wanted to ask, but he didn’t think this was the right time. He wanted Brandon all to himself, without Brett, for that conversation, armed with a lot more information about the young man. He took a breath and went with something safe. “Can I call you Stephen or should I use Lord Brandon or Captain Brandon?” “Stephen, please.” The young man looked hopefully at him. “Well, Stephen, what are your duties?” “I am attached to the Military Headquarters in the analyst division. We are currently intercepting coded transmissions from space.” He sipped his tea again.

“Surveillance work, eh? Great job, if you’re suited to it. Are you suited to it?” Jonathan sat back and watched Stephen carefully. He was a good judge of men, and young Brandon looked like some of the better men he’d seen under his own command. Sharp, intense, but self-deprecating about their own value. “Yes, sir, I think so. Some days the stuff I wade through is dead boring, but then, you stumble across something that makes it all worthwhile.” His eyes lit up as he spoke, “Then you know you’re not wasting time, but earning your keep.” “I understand that. I never cared for knocking my head against the wall, either. But when you do get that break, and you can run with it, that’s great stuff.” Stephen nodded in agreement. They’d started to relax a little, and conversation became easier for both of them. A commotion sounded in the foyer, and Brett breathlessly entered the room, still dressed for the stables in a pair of jeans and an old shirt, mudsplattered riding boots, and her hair pulled back in a long braid. “I’m so sorry for being late, Lord Brandon, Father. I took public transport to the stables, and there was a major accident on the thruway. Please give me a few minutes to change, and I’ll be right down.” The men had stood at her entrance, and Stephen’s smile burst onto his face at seeing her.

“Of course, Miss Butler.” He bowed to her, and she stood there smiling back at him, her plan to change temporarily forgotten, it seemed. “Brett…” Jonathan motioned with a slight jerk of his head to the stairs and she came awake. She turned and fled up the stairs to her rooms, leaving the men once again in an uncomfortable silence. “Sir, does this mean she will return shortly, or like most Commonwealth ladies, in an hour or two?” Stephen asked sincerely. “Oh, Brett can dress faster than any woman I’ve ever seen. She learned it at her mother’s knee. That woman could be ready in an instant, an invaluable trait in a general’s wife.” He smiled back at Brandon. “Or in any wife, for that matter,” he added softly. “Brilliant! Oh, not that I don’t want to continue our conversation, sir, I just wanted to see her…” Stephen fumbled over his words. Jonathan remembered the first time he’d met Elaine’s father, and his inability to speak in coherent sentences. An awkward silence enveloped the men again.

Stephen tried again to fill the empty air. “Sir, I have read many books on the strategies that you used in the defense of Old Earth. They are required reading now at the academy, I understand. I hope it sounds sincere, but it is a great honor to meet you.”

“History will make heroes of all of us in the end, whether we were heroes or fools. At the time, we just did what needed to be done to win.” Butler waved his hand to dismiss the praise. “But not all of us will have such an opportunity to shine, sir. I can only hope to do half as well, under similar circumstances.” “Well, Stephen, some are born to greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them.” He laughed. “I assure you that being ‘thrust’ isn’t such a wonderful thing.” He rubbed his shoulder. Stephen remembered Butler had been badly wounded during the final battle, yet still managed to lead his ships to a rout of the enemy, but at such a terrible cost of men. “I have wanted ship duty for my entire career, sir, but so far, headquarters feels they need me more here. Out there”—Stephen motioned to beyond the ceiling—“that’s where the real action is.” “I can tell you are young, to hunger after action. Take it from me, if you are lucky, you’ll never see what my generation saw firsthand.” He paused, and his voice dropped. “You, better than most, should understand the price that is paid in those times. Don’t be too eager to pay that price yourself, son.” Stephen took in his words and slowly nodded. It seemed his entire family had paid that price. Too much cost, it seemed, for one body’s blood.

“Perhaps you are right. A long life serving here would have just as much honor as a short one in space, especially if there is much to live for here.” Brett entered the room after what Stephen judged was only twenty minutes, a record for any Commonwealth debutante. She looked beautiful, in a soft brown mid-calf length skirt, brown boots, and soft camel belted jacket, her once braided hair, now loose and flowing, and pride in her shot through him. “Lord Brandon, forgive me for keeping you waiting.” They stood gazing at each other until her father cleared his throat. Brett took the seat next to Stephen on the small couch across from him. Stephen stared at her with open admiration. “I have business to attend to. Pleased to have met you, Lord Brandon. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.” Jonathan shook Stephen’s hand and left. “Have you been waiting long?” Brett asked him. “No. I didn’t mind waiting at all. Your father was very kind to me. We spoke briefly about his service.” “He didn’t give you too hard a time, with questions, that is?” She touched his hand in concern. Such soft fingertips. He wanted to sigh, but that wasn’t manly, was it? “No, he was very cordial. I have read about his achievements in the war. He is quite a strategist, and it was an honor to meet him.” Stephen spoke

sincerely. It had been an honor to meet such a hero of their time. “Yes, it’s easy to get him started talking about his military days; it’s stopping him that’s the hard part.” She laughed. Stephen held her hand in his, rubbing it softly with his fingers. “I heard him refer to you as Major. Is that a real title or a pet name?” He knew many planets, Old Earth included, had women not just in the ranks, as his did, but all the way up into the officers corps. “Real. I served six years in the military on Old Earth, following in his footsteps.” She jerked her head to the door to indicate her father. “However when my mother died, I left the service to take her place as his social secretary.” Now that was something different. None of the women he knew had ever served anything but tea and dinner, much less in the military. Brett was certainly a breath of fresh air, and he found her fascinating. “Did you like the military? Major in six years is very fast. I only made captain after eight.” Stephen was impressed rather than intimidated by her service. She stiffened. “If you are implying that my advancement was due to family and not my service, you are mistaken.” “What? No, not at all, that’s not what I meant. That didn’t even cross my mind, Miss Butler,” he

rushed to explain, hoping not to lose any ground he’d made with her. Brett exhaled. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve fought that misconception ever since I enlisted.” She paused and then continued, lowering her voice and whispering loudly, “I’ll tell you a secret. I did well, don’t get me wrong, I did my duty, but it wasn’t for me.” “What did you want to do, if not that?” He was sure whatever she said would surprise him, and he found that exciting. “I wanted to run the ranch. Manage its affairs, work with the cattle, ride the range. But I’ve understood ever since childhood it was expected I would enter the military, as my father had. Now it’s ten years later, and I’m an ambassador’s daughter, following him around the known universe.” She shrugged her shoulders. “If I know anything, it’s my duty.” Stephen regarded her for a moment. Beautiful, yes, and smart, oh yes. She was driven by duty, and her sense of honor, he could see that easily. But why did she see no life of her own? This was a woman who could be whatever she put her mind to, and yet she was adrift. “Do you want to be an ambassador’s social secretary? Or is this another position you will be in until the next duty reveals itself?” He raised an eyebrow in question.

“You’ve got me pegged, Lord Brandon. I guess I’ve spent my whole life living up to his expectations, and in a way to my mother’s. She was no slouch to duty and service, either. The only time I feel like I am really me, really just Brett, is when I’m riding Black.” She smiled at him sideways from lowered thick black lashes. “I’m twenty-eight and still don’t know what I want to do with my life. Is that terrible?” Stephen sat back and regarded her. “I am amazed you are even asking those questions. The women around here are merely satisfied to be married; that is their highest goal. Most of the female aristocracy don’t work at all, but manage their husbands’ social, political, and military lives. Many less women serve in the military here, and they are mostly corpsmen.” “Oh, are there no female officers in your military? I knew that there are females in the lower ranks.” Brett leaned forward. “Females in lower ranks, but so far, command has eluded them.” He shook his head. “It’s the ultimate ‘old boys’ school,’ I guess.” “Tell me about yourself, Lord Brandon. How is your military career going?” Brett touched him gently on the sleeve. He placed his hand over hers and held it there. She made no attempt to move her hand. His hand was larger than hers, which was small and soft and had just the right feel to it.

“I’m working in the Information section as an analyst. We decode and gather information from communication signals and evaluate them. I write a lot of reports, and pass on a lot of conjecture about the events that may or may not be happening. It’s sort of boring really.” He shrugged downplaying his role. He’d never been the type to brag or boast about his accomplishments. “Boring, but the uniform looks really good.” Brett joked wryly, bringing a soft smile to his face. “I’ve been around long enough to hear between those lines.” She pointed to her damaged ear. “I don’t need both ears to get it. You’re on the front edge of the information war, and it’s up to you to decide what is worthwhile sending upstream, and what’s not, right? No small responsibility, that one.” There was no getting past her; she was not just smart, she was good at it. She had been around the military so long as her father’s daughter and in her own right, it was all second nature to her. No wonder she’d risen in rank so quickly. “Well, yes, you get it right most of the time. It’s what you miss that you fear the most. What if you let something slide that turns out to be the big one? Awesome responsibility, that.”

The conversation came to a halt as Stephen stared into her eyes. Captivated by him, she hung onto the next breath he took, the next move he made. What she hoped he’d do. He took her hand and softly rubbed it, setting her body on fire, and then he leaned over for a kiss. Their lips met, and again her toes curled. Leave me here forever, please. She wanted to stay locked in this moment, in a continuous loop of time, replaying over and over the way his lips pressed against hers. They separated. He touched her face gently, and she longed to lean into his touch. “Will you have dinner with me this weekend? I know a very quiet restaurant near here that I think you will enjoy,” he asked, as he stared into her eyes. “I’d love to, Lord Brandon.” She squeezed his hand. “Then, I think tea time is over, and I need to return to my desk. I’ll be working late tonight.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Until then, Miss Butler. I’ll call and we’ll talk tomorrow, if that’s all right?” Brett nodded and walked him to the door. He gave her a small formal bow and stepped out the door and trotted down the steps. She watched him for a moment as he entered the vehicle parked at their curb, then she closed the door.

Brett gave a whoop that echoed off the marble floor and took the stairs two at a time up to her room. She needed to take a serious look at her wardrobe.

*** Brett had been more than relieved when Lady Helena said she’d be thrilled to help Brett shop for some new dresses. Brett realized she didn’t have the wardrobe for most of her social duties here, and for the first time in a long time, she worried about fitting in. Helena had been so excited about shopping she picked Brett up and took her to her favorite shops. They had spent all day shopping, and by the time they’d finished Helena and she had become fast friends. Brett liked Helena’s infectious enthusiasm. She was the same age as Brett yet seemed older. Helena wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, even if it was in a whisper behind her hand to Brett most of the time. They got along very well, and in fact, found their tastes in clothes were similar. Helena was very honest, too, so if Brett didn’t look just perfect in a

dress, she would tell Brett to save her money and take it off. Brett bought five new dresses, and several pairs of soft shoes to go with them. Three of the dresses were for every day, and two were evening gowns, more suitable for formal occasions. That done, Helena suggested they have lunch at one of her favorite cafés. The atmosphere proved pleasant, just right for a day of shopping. Over lunch, the women chatted, and Helena wasted no time bringing up Lord Brandon. “Well, what do you think of him?” Helena sat back and folded her arms. “Of who?” Brett said coyly, knowing who she spoke of, and smiled. “Why of Lord Brandon, of course! You two were the reason so many tongues were wagging at the reception.” Helena laughed. “I had hopes that the wagging tongues would mind their own business, but I see that was naive. What did they say?” Brett sighed. “That no one had ever seen Lord Brandon so smitten!” Helena’s eyes sparkled as she reached over and squeezed Brett’s hand. Brett didn’t want to get too excited about that, but she couldn’t help it.

“Oh, really? Well, if anyone had been there who knew me I’m sure they would have said the exact same thing.” Brett smiled even wider. “Then it’s true, you are both in love?” Helena held her breath, and her blonde hair bobbed softly with her nodding. “I’ve never been in love.” Brett shrugged. “Never?” Helena looked shocked as Brett shook her head. “I don’t know if it’s love. Really, it’s far too soon, isn’t it? However, I have to admit, I find most of my time is spent thinking about him. I’ve never really daydreamed about a man before, Helena.” She rested her elbow on the table, put her chin on her hand, and sighed. “Was it that way for you and Lord Stuart?” “From what his friends tell me, he was insufferable. He would go on and on about my qualities and attributes so badly that his friends had started to avoid him.” She giggled, obviously pleased with the story. “I, on the other hand, was all reticence and propriety.” Helena looked at Brett waiting to see if she bought that, but Brett just shook her head and laughed. “There is no way you were ‘reticent,’ Helena. You have too exuberant a personality to be prim and proper. I propose that you giggled at inappropriate moments and made everyone crazy with your sighing,” Brett teased.

“Who told you?” Helena looked shocked, but Brett knew it was only pretense. “How did you know he was the one?” Brett asked softly. “He was the first thing I thought of in the morning, the last thing at night, and all through the day. I closed my eyes and saw his face,” Helena said as she recounted her experience. “But,” she lowered her voice so no one could hear, “I had these truly wicked dreams about him and me, if you understand. Some were even in the middle of the day!” Then she laughed out loud and took a final bite of her salad. Brett nodded, she’d felt the same way, and had the same daydreams. Could it be love?

*** A few days later, at nine in the morning, the console in the library of the Ambassador’s Residence rang. James answered it. “This is Lady Helena Stuart, is Miss Butler at home?” The woman on the screen was pale and beautiful, and recognizing her name and rank, James bowed slightly. “No, milady, she is at the Military Hospital this morning.”

“Oh is she having her hearing aid replaced?” “No, milady, she is doing service work this morning.” His kept his voice flat and dull as befitted his station. “Service work?” Her head tilted to the side in question. “She visits the ill and injured in the mornings,” James explained. “Every morning?” Lady Stuart’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “No, milady, only when she has no duties here to attend to. She is expected to return at noon today.” “At the hospital, you say? Perhaps I could catch her there?” James nodded. “If you ask at the front desk, they should be able to point you in her direction, milady.” Lady Stuart nodded her thanks, and the connection was broken. James’s eyebrows rose. Lady Helena Stuart. Cousin to the queen herself. Brett had certainly made some high-placed friends. He chuckled and shook his head. He hadn’t thought she’d fit in here at all.

***

Brett waited patiently for the soldier to chew and swallow his mouthful of breakfast porridge. He swallowed and smiled at her, indicating he was ready for the next spoonful. She carefully brought the spoon to his mouth. His mouth closed around it, taking the food from it, and she slowly removed the spoon. “Before long, those casts will be off and you can start to feed yourself. I know this isn’t how you’d like to be eating, but it’s better than drinking all your meals through a straw.” Brett smiled encouragingly at the man in the hospital bed. The sergeant, a man of about forty, with justgraying hair at the temples cut short in the military style, smiled back. He’d been injured in a training accident when a cadet mishandled a vehicle they had been riding in and crashed. The cadet was unhurt, but the sergeant riding in the passenger side had been thrown out and sustained two broken arms. He was unable to do anything for himself right now, and when Brett had first suggested he let her feed him, he had refused her in no uncertain terms. After a week of eating all his meals through a straw, he relented. “Yes it is, milady. You are most kind to do this for me. I look forward to getting somewhat of a solid meal occasionally. Sometimes when Nurse Miriam is on night duty, she feeds me my dinner.” He smiled shyly, and Brett wondered if Nurse Miriam knew how he felt about her. It wasn’t the first time she’d

heard the sergeant speak fondly of the pretty young nurse. “She has arranged her work schedule to evenings lately, so I’ve been eating more frequently.” He looked very pleased that the nurse had given him so much consideration. “That was very kind of her, Sergeant. Perhaps she has more than a professional interest in you?” Brett broke a small piece of bacon and put it in his mouth. He chewed properly before he spoke again, and she could see the light in his eyes as he thought about that comment. “She has the advantage of me right now, but when I get these off,” he moved his arms slightly, “I’ll be able to get on equal footing with her.” “And once you have that equal footing, what are your plans, Sergeant? A frontal assault or a covert ops mission?” Brett teased him. “I’ve always found in dealing with the enemy, a frontal assault is best. Up front and open, that is.” He looked at her earnestly. “Well, speaking as one of the enemy, we appreciate that.” She nodded her approval, wiped his mouth with the napkin, and then offered him a sip of milk to wash it down. There was a soft knock on the door, and Brett turned to see who it was. Lady Helena Stuart stood in the doorway. “Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“Helena. What a surprise to see you here.” Brett rose from her chair beside the bed. “Don’t stop on my account, Brett, please continue.” “I’m done, milady, couldn’t eat another bite. Thank you.” The sergeant nodded, and Brett wiped his mouth and rolled the tray table away from him. She placed the call button back into his hand and gave his pillow a final fluff. “See you later, Sergeant.” She nodded to him curtly, in lieu of a salute, which he couldn’t return, and he nodded back. Brett stepped into the hall to join her new friend. “Is something wrong with your husband?” Brett’s eyebrows furrowed together in concern. “No, Brett, I came in search of you.” The women walked down the corridor. “Me? Whatever for?” Why would Helena be looking for her? “Originally I called to ask you to lunch. But when your man told me you were at the hospital doing ‘service work’ I was very curious as to what that entailed. So, seeking to satisfy that curiosity, I came here to see firsthand.” She linked her arm in Brett’s as they strolled. “Don’t the ladies of your social group do service work? Perhaps you call it something different. Charity work, maybe?”

“No, we don’t do anything like that at all.” Brett stopped, looked at her friend, and frowned. “Nothing? You do no work in the service of those less fortunate?” Helena gazed back at her earnestly. “No, nothing. And I was so struck with the idea of what you were doing that I wanted to come and speak with you right away.” She began to walk again, and when they came to a sitting area, she led the way to a couch, and the two women sat side by side. “I have felt for some time now that we women are too used to being insignificant. Surely we must have more value than looking good on the ends of our husbands’ arms and keeping house?” Her eyes lit up, and her face became animated as she spoke. “So, when I heard what you were doing, it struck me that this is exactly what I have been looking for, to make a difference.” “Believe me, it does make a difference in the lives of the soldiers you touch with kindness. Most of these men are far from home and family, and any kindness is most welcome.” Brett paused, trying to decide how to phrase her words. “I was raised to understand that as part of the upper social strata I was fortunate enough to be born into, service to those less fortunate was not only expected, but required. I’m puzzled to find there is no such philosophy here on New Commonwealth.”

“Unfortunately, service to others isn’t a part of our culture.” She shook her head. “It embarrasses me to admit it.” “Being so wrapped up in the military, I don’t understand why not. These are Commonwealth men; your husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers! Your kindness is so needed here, in almost every room. They’re terribly short-staffed, and having someone to do the little things that don’t get done is like an extravagant gift.” Brett wanted to shake the woman, but tempered her anger and her words in order not to offend Helena. “That is why I wanted to ask you if you would help me form a group, a guild perhaps, of women to do service work here at the hospital.” “That is a brilliant idea. Just brilliant! There’s so much that needs to be done.” “I’ll leave you to finish your time here, and I will return home and set up the meeting. I’m sure I can insure we have at least twenty women willing to volunteer their time and effort to this cause.” She gave Brett a quick hug then left. Brett smiled after her, and then went to the next soldier on her list.

***

Lord Stephen Brandon arrived outside Brandon House, where his grandfather lived alone. It was a large stone mansion with two floors, a main building, and east and west wings. His mother and he had lived in the east wing but had moved out after his entrance into the academy, she taking a flat nearby, and he in the academy barracks. He had grown up in this house, and one day it would be his in his role as Duke. He didn’t want to think about that; the old man gone seemed impossible, but life never seemed to stop, did it? He had clung to his grandfather after his father’s death. As patriarch of the family, he’d ruled with a gloved fist, firm, but soft to the touch. Duke Alistair Brandon had risen to the rank of colonel, worked at Military Headquarters as a weapons master, and had even trained officers for a time. Still called on to give his opinions on some of the new weapons being devised, he lived in a sort of semiretirement. At seventy, he was sharp as ever, with eyes that saw the pros and cons, and a mind that could wade through them to reach the truth. The loss of Stephen’s father had hit both of them hard, and they’d clung to each other during Stephen’s youth. Each had given the other a connection with Lord Marston Brandon, his grandfather’s only son and heir.

Now, Stephen was the only son and heir. He planned to change that, and soon. The man at the front double doors opened one side and gave Stephen a sharp bow. His grandfather kept several men on staff: a driver, his cook, and two servant girls. Even with Stephen and his mother gone, Duke Brandon kept a busy house. He entertained his old cronies, Stephen and his mother visited often, and even research men with new weapons specs to show him were constantly in and out of the house. Stephen stood in the foyer and pulled off his white gloves, slapped them into his hat, and laid it on the large, round ebony table that stood in the center. A large fresh flower arrangement sat in the center of it but, other than that, the house never really seemed to change. There was comfort in that sameness. “Where is he, Blalock?” Stephen asked the man who entered the foyer., Blalock had been his grandfather’s batman for as long as he could remember and was the epitome of the trusted family retainer. In his black uniform and white gloves, he stood only five and a half feet, lean of build, with a sharp beak of a nose and an eagle’s eye for anything out of place. “In the library, milord.” Stephen sauntered into the library and found his grandfather seated at his desk pouring over some weapons specs on the console. The duke grunted his

hello, held up a hand to signal him to wait, then finished his scan and hit the off button. “Good, boy, you’re on time.” The “for once” was left unsaid. “Yes, sir, how are you?” Stephen hitched one hip onto the desk, swinging his leg back and forth, waiting to be chased off. They played the same game every time Stephen visited. He would be impertinent, and his grandfather would be irritated. Although, most of the time, it wasn’t so much a game as reality. “I’m fine, but I’m concerned about you, boy.” The duke leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and ran his eyes over Stephen. “I want to talk to you about this girl, Miss Butler. What are your intentions toward her?” “Isn’t that her father’s line, sir?” Stephen smirked at his grandfather. “It will be, don’t worry, but for now, it’s mine. Answer, please, in ten words or less, preferably.” His steely blue eyes peered at Stephen from under his brows, gray like his still-thick hair. “I plan to marry her, sir. Concise enough, even for you?” Stephen chuckled. “Good. She’s the best thing you’ve ever seen, I’ll wager. Don’t blow this, son, we need an heir. Your good looks won’t last forever. Who’ll want to marry an aging bachelor? The marriage broker alone will

bankrupt us.” He sneered at his grandson, who flinched under the harsh truth of his words. Stephen was well aware of the situation. “I don’t plan on ‘blowing’ this. I’m in love with her, Granddad, truthfully. She’s…different, independent, beautiful…she’s everything.” He sighed, remembering Brett and that first kiss…those subsequent kisses…the kisses yet to come. “Make sure you don’t. I want you to speak to her father soon, in fact, before any of the other young bucks get wind of her. What if I have a dinner right here in Brandon House? Break out the best china? Have your mother and her father over and broach the subject? Could save us the broker fee, eh?” The duke was always looking to cut out the middleman; he hated waste. His love of simplicity was one of the reasons so many of the new weapons experts sought him out; he could cut right to the chase with no slop. “I like that idea. You’ll like Ambassador Butler, Granddad. He’s very interesting; a war hero, like you. Bet you two could swap stories all night.” Stephen smiled fondly at his grandfather. “I’m not worried about him; I’m worried about your mother.” He waved his hand in the air. “You know how she is. She isn’t fond of off-worlders, but I’m hoping her desire to see you married and producing heirs will override her doubts.”

Before Stephen could answer, Blalock entered the room and announced that dinner awaited in the small dining room. The two men rose, and the younger Brandon stepped to the side, deferring to the elder Brandon and following behind him.

Chapter Eight Saturday night found Stephen and Brett sitting across from each other at a table for two in a quiet restaurant. The table was just small enough for them to hold hands without straining and to hold a quiet conversation, but placed them just far enough apart to not reach easily for a kiss. “May I address you as Brett?” he asked. “Of course. If I may call you Stephen.” She winked at him. “I’d like that, Brett.” He nodded, then looked down at the table and fiddled with the silverware. “You seem distracted, Stephen.” Brett smiled at him. This was their first real date alone. Stephen looked relaxed in his military tan fatigues, except for his eyes. To her, they looked tired. “I’m sorry, Brett, but I’ve got a problem at work, and my mind can’t seem to stop worrying it.” He smiled crookedly at her. “It’s a bad habit of mine you’ll have to get used to. I tend to bring my work home.” “I understand. Is there anything I can help you with? Bounce your ideas off me? Vent your anger at some poor underling or supervisor?” She’d seen her

father talk things over with her mother as an equal when he’d been troubled by something. Any man Brett chose would be expected to do the same. “No, I don’t think so. Some of the stuff I deal with is strictly confidential, some not, and some a very murky mix.” He shrugged. “I promise to put it aside and concentrate on you.” He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. Perhaps he’d open up to her in time. Their dinner came, pasta and meat sauce for him and a large salad for her. They began to eat, but Stephen soon lapsed into silence. Then, with an audible exhale, he started to talk. “You see,” he began, “my job is to monitor transmissions that come from space. I go through mountains of them each day. Two weeks ago I came across a piece of a transmission. But it was so peculiar that it set off the alarms on my computer. I backtracked a little but couldn’t find the rest of the message; it had disappeared.” He looked at her for understanding. She nodded to encourage him to continue. “It leads me to some bad conclusions if I look at the subject matter and from where the message was sent. What I don’t know is where they were sent to and who sent them.” He shook his head. “What does your instinct tell you, Stephen?”

“That this is wrong and perhaps dangerous.” His voice had dropped down a notch. “It’s about some sort of weapon, but it doesn’t make sense.” His eyes looked troubled. “Have you gone to your commanding officer about this?” “No, I’m not sure what would happen if I did. It was sent by someone in one of the embassies. There is a question of diplomatic immunity. It could just get swept under the rug, be made to disappear, and that would make me even crazier.” He ran his hand through his hair, trying to sweep it back from his forehead where it had fallen. “Is there someone else you could talk to, perhaps out of the chain of command, but still in the loop?” she offered. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll just have to keep on this myself. Perhaps if I get a break and some more evidence turns up, I can move on it.” He shrugged and smiled at her. “You’re good to put up with me.” “Don’t forget, I was a soldier once too. I understand about duty and about having a job to do.” She looked at him, her gaze steady and even, then added, “You don’t ever have to apologize about that, Stephen.” “Thanks, Brett.” “What for?”

“For accepting me as I am.” The warmth in his eyes spoke to her, and she smiled back at him. “If that is what I want for myself, I certainly can’t deny it to you.” She paused. “This might be dangerous, Stephen, are you sure you want to delve deeper?” “I’m paid to do dangerous, Brett. Yes, I have to figure this out, it’s who I am, what I am.” His hand made a fist and hit the table softly. “Then, you should get to it, soldier,” Brett said in her best major's voice. Stephen smiled, and then cupping her chin, pulled her to him across the gap and kissed her. They finished their meal, Stephen paid the bill, and they left. As they walked home, they held hands and occasionally stopped to kiss. Brett couldn’t remember a time she’d been happier at the start of a romance. And this was only their first date. They had spanned the differences in their culture, found common ground, and had started the process of getting to know each other. It was the perfect time to mention the call she’d received. “I’m having lunch with your Grandfather day after tomorrow. He called me today and asked if I would visit with him, to talk.”

“You know, you don’t have to entertain him, Brett.” He grinned. “In fact, I’m growing quite fond of him. He’s very straightforward, and I like that. He is going to teach me to play bridge, and I’m going to teach him to play poker.” She laughed. “I’m surprised he would play a betting game. He’s tight with money. I used to say he squeaked when he walked.” Stephen laughed. “When I was little I was always asking for toys, candy, that sort of thing. He would always tell me no right then, but later, somehow the things I asked for would appear.” He shook his head. “Yes, I’ve already figured out his bark is worse than his bite; gruff on the outside, tender on the inside.” They paused on a corner. “He would have to be to deal with a small boy who’d lost his father.” Stephen looked down at his feet, paused, and then his gaze came up to meet hers. “Does it sound silly to say I really love that old man?” “No, it doesn’t. He’s a good man, Stephen.” She squeezed his hand. “I used to think I wanted to be just like my dad, but I don’t really remember what he was like; I was so young when he died. Now I want to be just like my granddad.” He grinned shyly. He thought for a second, and then added, “Perhaps my dad wanted to be like his dad, and was, so by being like my

granddad I’m really being like my dad.” He laughed as he ran his hand through his hair. “Does that make any sense at all?” Brett nodded. “In a roundabout way, yes. Like grandfather, like father, like son. Sort of a family legacy, if you will.” “Exactly, you do understand!” He slipped his arm around her waist as they walked. “I learned early that when you stand in the light of a great man’s eyes you have to stand a little bit taller. We’re a lot alike, Stephen. We’ve both stood in that light, and we’ve both stood a bit taller.” She held him tight and gazed into his eyes. He hugged her to him, and then let her go. Searching her eyes he whispered, “I want you, Brett.” He kissed her softly at first. He pulled her next to the building they were standing by, put her up against the wall, and pressed his body to hers. She melted into him and felt his excitement. When they finally parted, Brett sighed and pulled him away from the wall. They continued down the street until they reached her house. Stephen walked her up the stairs and then kissed her goodnight. He promised he’d call her later that evening. As Brett went inside, he skipped down the stairs and then searched the street for a cab.

*** After telling the driver to stop, Duke Brandon waited for the door to be opened. He stepped out and looked around. It had been a long time since he’d been to the park stables, too long to bother counting the years. His horses were in the country, stabled at the estate upland and cared for by the small staff that was kept on grounds during the off-season. There were not many horses left, only four, and they were getting older. Stephen and he had rode when they were both younger, but with his age and Stephen’s duties, there hadn’t been much call for the horses over the last ten or so years. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bear to part with them; he still loved just seeing them grazing in the pastures behind the estate manse, along with the small flock of sheep he kept. “You, boy, do you know where I could find Miss Butler?” he called to a passing stable boy carrying a bucket of oats in each hand. “Yes, milord!” The boy came to attention at the sight of the Duke’s uniform. “She’s got Black out in the far paddock, sir. Just follow that path next to the rail, and it’ll take you there.” The duke nodded curtly to the boy. “Thank you.” The boy grinned and went on his way, swinging the buckets in time to his steps.

Duke Brandon motioned for his driver to wait, and he started toward the paddock area. The first large paddock was covered in green grass and had several horses grazing in it. They wore their halters, and one wore a green blanket. Good-looking animals, and he paused to check them out, more out of habit than interest. The far paddock was larger. Possibly it had at one time doubled as a polo field. Brett and Black were easy to spot, since they were the only occupants. Brandon leaned on the rail and watched. Black was indeed a magnificent animal, shiny black from nose to tail, but with an artist’s brush splatter of white across his rump. He was grazing lazily, with Brett stretched out across his back, her head resting on his rump and one of her legs dangling over his side, the other bent and resting on his withers. A large straw hat covered her face, but her long braid hung over the horse’s side. She wore blue jeans, Old Earth style, and a man’s shirt, tied at the waist and with the too-long sleeves rolled up. She might have been sleeping. Black moved slowly, clipping at the grass, then reached around and nibbled at her booted foot. She moved it away, but he nibbled at it again. She laughed and sat up, pushed her hat to the top of her head and leaned forward, hugging the horse around the neck. Brandon watched as she slid off the animal and started to walk ahead of it. Slowly, the horse

followed her, and when it reached her, it snatched the hat off her head and stopped. She stopped too, felt her head, and without turning around, held out her hand for the hat. Black snorted and stomped the ground with a forefoot and tossed his head, the hat clenched in his teeth. She snapped her fingers impatiently, and he moved forward, until the hat reached her hand. Brandon laughed at the game and then wondered if he had ever seen a horse play that way before with a human. Brett placed the hat back on, snugged it down tight, and then started to run. Black stood still, legs splayed, ears forward and waiting. Brandon thought this must be another game. When she had gotten about ten yards away, he heard her whistle, saw the horse’s ears go back then forward, and he took off after her at a canter. As the horse gained on the woman, Brandon held his breath, not knowing what was going to happen. It looked like the animal would run her down, but in a few lengths it came parallel to Brett and they matched strides. Brett turned slightly, grabbed Black’s mane with both hands, and with both feet together, hopped. The momentum of the cantering horse swung her off her feet, backward, and with incredible grace she swung up onto his bare back. She held only his mane, and the canter became a gallop. They made a circuit of the paddock.

Brandon slowly exhaled and realized he had been holding his breath as he watched. No, he changed his mind; they were both magnificent. He would kill Stephen if he botched this. What a woman. She was certainly worthy of his family name, and he wondered what the combination of her and Stephen would produce; brains, beauty, and more brains. Brett and Black galloped around the far corner of the paddock and were on their way to where the duke leaned. She spotted him and tightened her knees, dug in her toes, and pulled back on the mane she held in her hands, and Black skid to a stop. She swung off the horse and landed easily. “Duke Brandon! What a pleasure to see you! I’d shake hands, but I’m covered in horse.” “Yes, you are.” He nodded. “But on you it looks very good.” “I’m so glad you came out to meet Black. What do you think?” She gazed back lovingly at the horse. “He is all you said he was, just magnificent, my dear child.” The duke nodded approvingly. “If I had any young mares, I’d ask to stud him immediately.” “He has that effect on people, sir. On Old Earth, he is a father four times over. I hadn’t thought anyone would want him here, though.” She leaned her head to the side seemingly in thought.

“If you wish, I’ll speak to some of my old friends and see if they would be interested in diversifying their stock?” he offered. “Black has never met a mare he didn’t like, sir.” Her grin was a little lopsided at her joke. “Is Stephen, I mean Lord Brandon, with you today?” She touched her hair absently and looked past the duke. “No, not today, my child. I came on my own, out of my own desire to see you and the horse.” “I hope you are not disappointed, sir, in either of us.” She smiled at him. Oh, Stephen, you are one lucky bastard. Do not blow this or I’ll kill you myself. “Would you care to dine with me tonight, Miss Butler, you and your father?” “That sounds lovely, sir. I believe my father is free tonight.” “Will you both come then, Miss Butler, say at 1900?” “We’ll be there, sir, thank you.” She smiled at him as he bowed to her and then left. All the way back to the car, he had to suppress the urge to dance a jig, but a man of his age and bearing wouldn’t do such a thing. Besides, he’d dance at the wedding. The duke hit the vidcom in the backseat of his car as it drove away from the park and punched in the numbers.

His daughter-in-law Lady Diane’s housekeeper appeared. She smiled as she recognized the duke. “Good afternoon, sir.” “Is Lady Diane at home?” he asked cordially. He was in a good mood and looking forward to the evening he planned in the back of his mind. “Yes, please hold.” The woman disappeared and in a moment, Lady Diane appeared. “Good afternoon, sir.” She nodded to him. Her blonde hair, streaked with silver highlights, was piled neatly on her head. She was still a beautiful woman even after all these years. “I’m hosting a little dinner party tonight that I think you’ll want to attend, Diane. Ambassador Butler, his daughter, Stephen, myself, and you, if you can find the time.” He smiled and raised an eyebrow. Her eyes narrowed; she regarded him for a moment, then sat back in her chair and said, “You don’t waste much time, do you, Alistair?” “How much time do you think Stephen’s got, my dear?” “I know what you’re up to, Duke, but I’m not sure we should be rushing into this course of action. We know nothing about her, other than her visible qualities.” “Well, if you’d been out reconnoitering, like me, you’d know more.”

“I’ve wasted my time on Stephen before, and nothing ever pans out. He is deathly allergic to commitment. This is only a passing fancy. As soon as he gets his taste, he’ll move on.” She motioned with her fingers like they were walking. “Don’t be so sure. He told me he plans on marrying her.” He waited to see the response in his daughter-in-law. A look of shock passed briefly over her face. “He hasn’t spoken to me about her at all.” She sounded doubtful now. “And if you had learned more about her, you would know that he will not be able to sample this pastry and move on. She has more class and honor than the normal Commonwealth piece of fluff.” “Seems she’s won your heart too, Alistair, but it will take more than some flattery and eyelash batting to win me.” Lady Diane crossed her arms and raised her chin. “All I’m asking is for you to come and give her a chance, find out for yourself what she’s made of, she and her father.” With a sigh, Lady Diane nodded and said, “I’ll be there.” She hit the button, and the vid shut off. The duke sat back against the seat. Everything was falling into place.

Chapter Nine Stephen sat in his cubicle at HQ working on his mystery. He leaned back and rubbed his hand over his eyes and then through his hair. He still had to make a call to his mother to talk to her before the dinner with Brett and her father. He punched in her number and waited. Her maid answered, “Lady Brandon’s residence.” “Hello, Marta, is my mother available?” “Yes, sir, please wait.” The screen went gray, and in a few moments his mother appeared on the screen. “Stephen, so good of you to call me.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice, and he winced. “I know I should have talked to you sooner, but Granddad moved awfully fast on this. It took me by surprise. I planned on asking you to meet Brett, but he beat me to it.” “Well, now, it took me by surprise, too, especially the part where you want to marry her.” She lowered her head and looked at him. “He told you, did he? Well, as a matter of fact, yes, I do want to marry her. I plan on asking her father at the dinner for her hand.” He leaned back and watched for her reaction.

“Stephen, you know I’ve wanted you to settle down for years, and it’s way past time you married, but this is so sudden. Are you sure she’s the one?” She looked very doubtful, as if by being unsure she could sway him. “Yes, Mother, very sure. I have never been in love before, you know. She’s the one. I can’t explain it, but I just know.” He leaned forward toward the screen, trying to convey his feelings to her. “Yes, I know all about love, dear, but this is so fast. Have you even had time to get to know her, see what she’s like? Just being pretty is not enough to base a marriage on, Stephen.” “It’s not that, although she is beautiful. She has so much substance, so much life. She is unlike any other girl I’ve ever met, Mother. She’s strong, brave, and has the most amazing sense of honor and duty. I could talk to her for hours; she really understands me.” He paused and added, “Granddad seems quite taken with her too.” As if that alone would convince his mother. He should know better. His mother was strong and brave to have raised a son and survived in their society without a man by her side. “I’ll grant you that you’ve never met a woman like her before, but is that enough to base your whole life on? Marriage is not to be taken lightly, Stephen. How do you know she is the one?” She shook her head and looked very worried.

Stephen closed his eyes and took a breath, held it, and then let it out slowly. He opened his eyes and spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, “When I look in her eyes, I see our children.” Lady Diane froze for a moment, sat back, and nodded. “I’ll see you when you pick me up, Stephen.” And the connection was broken. Stephen rubbed his face again and exhaled. That went well, better than he’d thought. He stood, stretched, and then got back to his work.

*** Brett stood at the door to her father’s study, just off his bedroom. He’d been working all afternoon on his speech on the tariff debate. She exhaled and knocked. “Enter,” he called out. “Dad, can I interrupt you?” Brett poked her head just inside his door and waited. “Brett, of course! I could use a break.” He motioned her in, and she crossed the room and took a seat on the small sofa near his desk. He rose and sat next to her.

“Dad, I wanted to speak to you about Lord Brandon.” She curled her legs up under her. She’d told him earlier of the invitation to dinner, but she wanted to talk more about the young man she was involved with and her feelings for him. “I was hoping I’d hear more about him.” He put his arm across the back of the sofa and waited. She took a deep breath and began. “You know, Dad, I’ve never been involved with anyone before, not seriously anyway. And you know I really tried to give that General Mace a chance, but I couldn’t go through with that. He was awful.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But Stephen is so very different. I think I fell in love with him before we even spoke.” She stared off into the distance, remembering the first time she saw him. “Love works like that sometimes. Sometimes it grows slowly.” “Was it fast for you and Mom?” She wondered if she should bring her up, but he seemed to be doing so much better this last year. “Oh, yes, for me it was. I’m not so sure for her, though.” He grinned and laughed. “She made me work for her, that’s for sure. But in the end, she gave in.” “Do you think I should make Stephen work harder?” She looked at him sideways.

“No, don’t play games with the boy, Brett, that’s not fair. Your mother was unsure at first how she felt about marrying a military man, not how she felt about me. She’d spent her life in a military family and was pretty sure she wanted out. Then she met me and had to make a very big decision. Military life isn’t for everyone.” He picked at the arm of the sofa. “I understand that, but that’s not a problem for us. I fully support his career and have no ambitions of a military career anymore, I assure you.” “Well, that’s a lot less conflict. Be up front with him, he seems a good man, and be true to yourself. If you two are meant to be together, then it will be,” he paused, “but I am sure happy to know you may have found someone to share your life with, Brett.” “You really mean to have lots of children with, don’t you, Dad?” she teased him. “Yes, that too.” He nodded, and they shared a laugh. He became serious. “I wondered if I would ever hear you talk about getting married or having children. Are these new thoughts?” “Yes, very new. Like may be just a week old.” She winked, unable to hide her happiness. He pulled her over to him and hugged her. “I trust you, Brett. If this is the man you want, he’s fine with me. Dinner tonight at his grandfather’s? Well, that should be very interesting.” Brett stood and kissed him on the cheek.

“Dad, I love you.” “I love you, too. I’ll finish here and start getting ready.” She left the room, and he sat there. Slowly a grin crept over his face, and he leaned back on the sofa and closed his eyes. He could see Elaine in her gown on their wedding day. Even though it had been over thirty years ago, he could still see it clearly. She walked down the aisle with her father, Commodore Clayton Walker. He’d looked so proud of his daughter, and when he handed her to Butler they’d shaken hands. “Take good care of her, Jonathan,” he’d said, and Butler had nodded, too choked up to speak. Now he might be walking Brett down that long aisle and letting her go to this young man. His eyes filled at the thought, and he wiped them with the back of his hands. He blew out a breath, stood, and went back to work.

*** Brett looked into the mirror in her dressing room and decided to go with the gown she had on two dresses ago. This dinner was important; she wasn’t stupid. Impressions were hard to change, and his

mother would be there. The duke would leave no stone unturned. He may be old, but Brett could tell he was sharp as a tack. His visit to the stables hadn’t been just coincidence; he’d been checking her out. She took off the gown, went back to the closet, and hung it up carefully. Then she sat at the dressing table and started to work on her hair. The braids were elaborate, but the hard part was twisting them around her head artfully. She was used to braiding; she did it all the time on Black’s mane and tail for the horse shows, so it was an easy transition to her own hair. When she’d pinned the last one into place, she arranged the jeweled net over them. It was sheer, so that her braids were highlighted by the shining jewels. The effect was subtle, but very attractive. She hated makeup, so she only applied mascara to her eyelashes and a touch of tinted gloss to her lips. Just a hint of the perfume she liked to wear, very faint, only one dab to her wrists. The dress was a compromise of herself and the styles of New Commonwealth. It was soft, feminine, yet tailored, with a low neckline that flattered her shoulders and throat. The color, a gray that leaned to purple, gave her complexion a boost and set off her eyes. Finally, she slipped into one of the few pairs of dress slippers she owned. They felt strange on her feet, but also much lighter than the boots she normally wore.

“You’re a proper Commonwealth lady, now, my girl,” she said to her reflection, trying to mimic the way they spoke, pleased with the results. She hoped that Stephen would be pleased too. She glanced at the clock on her table and with a deep breath, headed downstairs to meet her father.

Ambassador Butler waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs for his daughter, not knowing what to expect. When she arrived at the top landing, he looked up and gasped. Was that really his girl? Brett came down the stairs with a smile on her face, mirroring the expression on his. “Yes, Dad, it’s me.” She rolled her eyes, and then did a turn for him at the bottom of the stairs, her long skirt swirling. “I take it you approve of my selection?” “Oh yes, dear, you look lovely. I’m speechless!” “So that’s what it takes! Now that I know, watch out.” She teased him and took his offered arm, and they went through the door and out to the waiting cars.

***

Stephen waited at the door to his mother’s flat and exhaled. He hoped she wouldn’t be difficult tonight. Even she should realize how important this was to him. After he had spoken to her on the console, he knew she was going to be difficult. But she had promised to keep an open mind. He looked down at his uniform, fresh pressed, and checked to see if his boots shone. Everything looked good. The door opened, and his mother stood in the foyer. The expression on her face wasn’t hard to read, but he ignored it and entered. “Are you ready, Mother?” “As ready as I’ll ever be, Stephen.” He extended his arm to her, and she took it, allowing herself to be led to the lift and downstairs to the waiting car. He had borrowed his grandfather’s vehicle and driver, since he had no car of his own. While living in the officer’s quarters near HQ he used military transport to and from work. He used to borrow Johann Stuart’s car for special occasions but there hadn’t been many of those in a long time. Lady Brandon arranged the skirt of her dress, a deep burgundy empire-styled gown, and sat back against the car’s plush seat. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. Stephen glanced at his mother. She was still a beautiful woman, even though in her late forties. Still had her figure, too, he thought

proudly. They rode in silence to the duke’s residence, where they alighted, and he escorted her up the stairs and inside. The duke waited for them in the foyer. His man took Lady Diane’s wrap, Stephen’s hat and gloves, and disappeared. “Is she here yet?” Stephen looked past his grandfather anxiously. “Not yet, son, but I expect them any minute.” He turned to Lady Diane and smiled. “You look lovely, Diane.” She smiled at him and did a small curtsy. “Still the charmer, I see, Alistair. Well, let’s hope this dinner goes well. My last memory of this young lady and her father was rather odd. She spent most of the time on the floor with a Taser aimed at her.” She looked pointedly at her son. “But even you have to admit, she exhibited grace under fire, Mother. And I could tell she even charmed William. Her gifts were spot on and…” His mother waved at him to stem the flow of his defense of Brett. “Point taken and conceded.” Lady Diane rolled her eyes. They moved into the library, and his grandfather poured drinks. In a few minutes, his man opened the door to the library and announced Ambassador Butler and his daughter. As Brett entered the room, there was a noticeable intake of breath, by Stephen and his grandfather. She

was indeed beautiful, and her dress looked amazing. Stephen blinked hard and then went to her, taking her hands in his. They smiled at each other giddily. “You look stunning, Miss Butler,” he managed to say with a wink. “You are looking very handsome yourself, Lord Brandon.” Her eyes shone into his, and for them the world became a bubble that encircled them alone. Ambassador Butler quietly cleared his throat. Brett turned away from Stephen. “Duke Brandon, Lady Brandon, I’d like to introduce you to my father, Ambassador Jonathan Butler.”

Chapter Ten Jonathan bowed to the duke. “I’m so very pleased to meet you both. Stephen has told me about you, sir, and it’s an honor to meet you.” The duke gave a small nod of his head. Jonathan stepped to Lady Diane and took her hand, bowing over it. “Lady Diane, I believe we met very briefly at the reception, but without introduction. I am sorry to say the circumstances were not the most favorable. I hope you’ll give us a chance to rectify that.” He smiled at Lady Diane, who looked a little taken aback as she nodded at him slowly. The duke offered drinks, and by the time he had poured them, the butler entered and announced dinner. Duke Brandon led them to the dining room, with Brett on Stephen’s arm. Jonathan extended his arm to Lady Diane. She took it, somewhat reluctantly, and they followed. Everyone was seated and the first course was served when conversation started in earnest. The duke sat at the head of the table, with Brett on his left and Stephen on his right, Lady Diane next to her son, and Jonathan across from her, next to Brett.

“I won’t beat about the bush,” the duke began, “we all know why we are here. These two young people seem to have found each other, and we now must agree on what is to be done about that.” He sat back, put his hands on the arms of his chair, and looked at both of the parents. Brett and Stephen smiled at each other. Jonathan cleared his throat. “Since I’ve done this once before, I guess I should start. Lord Brandon, what are your intentions toward my daughter?” Stephen looked at him, intent burning in his eyes. “I would ask her hand in marriage, sir.” Brett smiled softly and looked down at her own hands clasped together on her lap. Jonathan nodded. “I have spoken to your cousin Lord Stuart about you.” Stephen looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Nothing he said made me think you would not be a good match for my daughter.” At this, Lady Diane gave a small soft snort. Jonathan slowly brought his gaze to her and spoke softly. “Do you have something to say, Lady Diane?” She raised her chin and glared at him. “Indeed I do, Ambassador. You may be sure my son is a match for your daughter, but I’m not sure the opposite is true. I had hopes Stephen would find a more…traditional woman to marry.” “When you say ‘traditional,’ you mean, from here on New Commonwealth?”

“Yes. He may be swayed by your daughter’s exotic ways, but in the long run, I wonder if she will fit in here on New Commonwealth.” She smiled, but her blue eyes were steely. Brett frowned and looked at Stephen. He stared open-mouthed at his mother. The duke still sat back, his chin now resting on his fist, taking in the scene. “If I know my daughter, fitting in will be the least of your worries. Brett doesn’t ‘fit in’, she leads, madam.” Jonathan leaned back in his seat. “She may lead on Old Earth, but here, the women follow what society dictates. Miss Butler may find herself fighting a battle she can never win.” Jonathan locked his eyes on Lady Diane and exhaled. Her eyes were so blue. He hadn’t noticed before. He blinked and then leaned forward to make a point. “Lady Brandon, let us concede that will be something Brett will have to deal with herself. Hopefully, with your guidance, she will find it an easier time than you suppose?” “There was also the hope that Stephen would find someone with impeccable bloodlines.” Diane again stared at Jonathan; her eyes never went to Brett. “Madam, if you are implying that Brett’s bloodline is less than any woman on New Commonwealth, you are very much mistaken.”

Jonathan's voice dropped as he sat up straight and placed both hands on the table. “Am I, Ambassador? Just because you were rewarded for your military deeds I can’t assume that your bloodlines are of the right quality.” She placed her chin on her hand, elbow on the table, and waited for his rebuttal, as if enjoying sparring with him. Her lips curved up in a slight smile. Jonathan took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly let it out. God, the woman is infuriating. She needs to be either slapped or…kissed. He spoke slowly, and his voice was very soft. “Madam, Brett can trace her lineage back to Colonial America, to the 1700s. She is a registered member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, and a Daughter of the Confederacy. Her forbearers fought in the Spanish American War, in World War I, lived through the attack on Pearl Harbor, and died on the beach at Normandy in World War II. They fought in Korea, Vietnam, and in the Gulf Wars. She has greatgrandfathers on both sides that fought in the First Interstellar War. Her bloodlines are without question, madam.” He finished with a sharp nod to Lady Brandon. Softly, Brett added, “And her father led the Old Earth space fleet to victory and was injured in the line of duty ten years ago against the Ottoman jihad.” She

smiled at Jonathan lovingly. He reached out and touched her hand where it lay on the table next to his. “And Brett served for six years with honor, earning the rank of major.” He finished with a squeeze of her hand. “Look where you will, Lady Brandon, you will find no one better.” His gaze fell back on Lady Diane. Hopefully, she’d listened to the litany of Brett’s bloodline and realized that as much as Lady Diane was of royal blood here on New Commonwealth, bought and paid for by her forefathers’ money several hundred years ago, Brett was a type of royal blood on Old Earth bought and paid for by her ancestors’ lives. “Ambassador Butler, in the old days, a young woman came with a dowry. It was expected that she would bring certain assets to the marriage. Nowadays, we don’t practice that anymore, I’m afraid. However, I wonder just what Brett will bring to this marriage?” Lady Diane sat back and waited for his reaction. “Dowry, eh?” Jonathan rubbed his chin. “Well, there’s the ranch in the hill country, that’s twenty-five thousand acres, her mother’s homestead, and four thousand head of prime Black Angus cattle; all her mother’s jewels, which she is already in possession of, although she rarely wears them. The income from the ranch, of course, is yours also, Brett. Last time the accountants ran the estimates of fair market value, it

was,” he paused, closed his eyes, and tallied it up in his head, “just over fifteen and a half million North American dollars. Is that dowry enough?” He tilted his head at Lady Diane and frowned. Brett had lowered her head as if embarrassed by the litany of her personal wealth. Stephen’s eyes had widened as Jonathan gave the total, and then swallowed. Duke Brandon sat back and softly blew out a whistle when he heard the amount.

Lady Diane closely regarded the man across from her. He was slightly older than her, of good build, with dark hair shot through with gray and piercing green eyes. Right now, that green gaze bored into her, challenging her to deny his daughter the respect she rightfully deserved. “I concede, sir. If they are in love and wish to marry, I will not stand in their way.” She made a small bow of her head. Everyone smiled around the table, except Brett. She looked troubled, and Stephen noticed it. “Brett, is something wrong?” “Yes, I think I need to say something.” She paused and took a breath, and then looked at Lady Diane. “I’m glad that you won’t stand in our way, but I had hoped that you would welcome me as a daughter. Please tell me that is what you meant to

say.” Her voice was so earnest that Lady Diane couldn’t help but smile at her. “Yes, of course, that is what I meant to say, my dear.” Brett smiled at her and then at Stephen. Everyone relaxed and started to eat as the first course was cleared, and the next course was brought to the table. In between bites of food, Diane caught Butler stealing a few glances at her.

The duke felt smug and pleased with both himself and the outcome of the first round of discussions. Those done, he was anxious to go on to the next item on his agenda, the wedding date. “So Brett, it is spring now, and allowing for time to plan the wedding, are you thinking of a fall, winter, or summer wedding?” “We haven’t really discussed it, Duke Brandon. Do we have to decide tonight?” “No, of course not, but it would be nice if we could get an idea of the time of year, no?” He continued to try to squeeze it out of her. “I haven’t seen all the seasons here, but if it’s all the same to everyone, I’d like to not wait too long.” Brett looked shyly across the table at Stephen and he grinned in agreement.

“I like that idea, also. The sooner the better,” he added. Lady Diane sat back. “Well, putting a wedding of this magnitude together in a short time frame will take some doing.” “Yes, and putting together a wedding was not exactly in my plans as ambassador,” Butler conceded. Then he addressed Lady Diane. “I’m sure your considerable skills would be up to the task, Lady Diane.” Brett leaned forward. “Oh, yes, Lady Diane, would you do the planning? I wouldn’t know where to start.” Stephen leaned over to his mother. “You really don’t want someone else doing this, do you?” Lady Diane sighed and finally nodded. “All right, I’ll do it. But it means working closely with you, Brett.” “I don’t think that will be a problem. I’ve never been a girl who dwelled endlessly on her wedding, imagining the dress, the flowers, that sort of thing. In fact, I never really thought much about it when I was younger.” “Don’t worry; we’ll get through it all. There is always the obvious to be managed, yes, but it’s the whispered that is hard to nail down.” She raised her eyebrows.

“What do you mean ‘the whispered’?” Butler asked, frowning. “A rushed wedding can lead to certain speculations, of which I’m sure neither my son nor your daughter wish to have made of them.” “Those speculations are…” Butler made a hand motion to her to hurry her point along. “Whether or not the reason for a rushed wedding will surface in nine months, sir.” Brett and Stephen gasped, and Ambassador Butler’s hands hit the table. “That’s outrageous! Who would dare say such a thing?” he sputtered. “Anyone, everyone. Talk is inevitable, sir. I propose we push the wedding off for at least six months in order to quell any such talk.” Brett looked at Stephen, then at her father and slowly nodded her head. Their eyes looked pained at the thought of waiting so long. With a slow nod, Stephen agreed to the delay. “And it will give us more time to plan the wedding and to all get to know each other better.” Lady Diane looked quite pleased with herself, and why not? She’d gotten most of her concessions and had not given much away. She would plan the wedding, so it would be up to the highest standards, and it would be in six months, plenty of time for everyone to get to know each other better.

Duke Brandon sat back, content that his plan had succeeded. Butler glanced at Lady Diane. The duke knew Butler mustn’t underestimate this woman; she was a clever strategist in her own right. He also knew from the look on Butler’s face, he had the feeling he’d just been had.

Chapter Eleven They retired to the library for after-dinner drinks and talk. Brett and Stephen sat off on a small loveseat away from the others and held hands. “I want to kiss you, Brett, it’s driving me mad,” Stephen whispered. “Yes, I understand. But how can we…” Her voice faded. “Should I take you for a walk in the gardens behind the house?” “Do you think that would be too obvious?” “Yes, but I don’t care. Do you think your father will mind?” Brett glanced at her father, who was speaking with the duke and the Lady Diane. “Not if we didn’t take too long, I think.” Stephen nodded and stood. “Miss Butler, my grandfather’s garden is quite beautiful; would you care to see it?” He spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. Brett glanced over to the others, and they barely acknowledged the couple. Brett and Stephen slipped out of the room, and he led her to the garden. Brett stepped through the door, down the steps, and onto the garden path. As soon as she reached

level ground, Stephen grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. Their lips met and fused together. “Six months? I’m not sure I can stand it. I was hoping for sooner. Much sooner,” Stephen murmured into her ear, then kissed her face and worked his way to her lips. “We could just elope,” she suggested between kisses. “Eloping would be good.” He kissed her again. “Both our parents would kill us, you realize.” He stepped away from her and sighed. “And if it’s one thing we both know, it’s our duty.” “Six months it is, then. Besides, we owe it to our families. They’ve both waited too long for us to marry to cheat them out of a big wedding now.” She sighed, took his arm, and they continued back to the house.

*** “Ambassador, Stephen seems very impressed by you.” Lady Diane raised her glass to her lips and sipped. “Why do you think that is?” Jonathan regarded her carefully and wondered if she was just trying to rile him again, or was she teasing? He couldn’t read the look on her face. He glanced briefly at the duke, trying to get a sense from

him. The duke’s eyes shone with amusement, so Jonathan proceeded with the assumption she teased. “It must be my boyish charm and good looks.” His voice was flat, and his face deadpan. Duke Brandon chortled, and Lady Diane’s lips slowly spread in a soft smile. “Indeed.” She took another sip of her wine. “Where are the kids?” Jonathan looked around, noticing they were gone. “I’m sure they just stepped out to be alone,” the duke said with a knowing smile. “I think the idea of waiting six months probably has them in a panic. Surely, Diane, we could help them out by pushing the date up a little sooner?” “Well…” She hesitated. “Remember how it was when you married my Marston?” he reminded her. “I recall the two of you were in a big hurry also.” Jonathan sat back and raised his eyebrows. Lady Diane blushed at the revelation of her past by the duke. Jonathan stepped in smoothly. “I know that when I married Brett’s mother, Elaine…well, let’s just say we showed remarkable restraint.” He smiled and sipped his wine. “But it was miserable, the waiting.” “But worth waiting for, no doubt,” added the duke with a gleam in his eyes. “I understand your wife died recently. I’m very sorry.”

“Yes, it’s been four years. At the time it was a shock—she’d been ill for so short a time before she died.” A profound sadness came over him briefly, and he stared at his feet as the familiar pang of grief filled him. “I always thought it would be me first. I never thought about having to live without her. If it wasn’t for Brett, I’m not sure what I would have done.” Lady Diane spoke, “When Marston died, the only thing that kept me going was Stephen.” The duke added, “Stephen kept us both alive, my dear.” Two sad blue gazes locked, held, and then shifted away. “Your husband died in combat, did he not?” Jonathan asked gently. “Yes, when Stephen was just six, in a battle against Ottoman forces.” She nodded. “You’ve never remarried?” He tried a conversational tone of voice, to see if it sounded…conversational. An awkward silence fell. “Well, it wasn’t for lack of suitors.” Duke Brandon’s voice boomed. Lady Diane looked, well, a mix of shy and proud. “After her six months of mourning was over, I needed a big stick to beat off the men who hung on my doorstep waiting for a chance at her.”

“Oh, Alistair, you exaggerate.” She waved her hand at him, as if to shoo him away. “I don’t doubt it, madam. A man would have been a fool not to stand in that line.” Jonathan gave a sort of half bow to her, and their gazes met. “I have long since given up on finding someone to replace Marston in my heart.” She looked away from him. “And yourself, Ambassador?” Duke Brandon lifted his glass in his direction. “Do you think of marrying again?” Jonathan scoffed. “At my age, who’d want an old broken down warhorse like me?” He shook his head and drained his glass in one gulp.

Diane thought he didn’t sound as if he were just being self-abasing, but as if he were resigned to being alone. Couldn’t he see what a catch he was, a decorated general, and an ambassador, with personal wealth? No, he doesn’t see it at all, she thought, he sees only a man and none of the trappings he is wrapped in. She sipped her wine and watched him, slightly annoyed with him. Just then, Brett and Stephen came back in the library holding hands. They smiled at each other and sat back on the couch.

“Did you enjoy the gardens, my dear?” the duke asked. “Oh, yes, they were…lovely. What I could see of them in the dark.” She smiled at him as if they shared a private joke. “I always thought they were best viewed early in the morning with the dew still on the blooms.” “I can’t wait to see that, sir.” She grinned at him and then winked. Well, Brett had certainly won over Stephen’s grandfather. “Brett, would you like to have lunch next Friday?” Lady Diane asked. “I’d love to, but I have a prior engagement.” She seemed to think, and then she added, “Lady Diane, perhaps you would like to join me? Lady Helena Stuart and I are organizing a Lady’s Guild for service work, and we are having the first meeting at lunch at her home on Friday.” “A Lady’s Guild?” Diane tilted her head in question. “Yes, Lady Helena found out about the service work I perform at the Military Hospital, and she thought that several of her young women friends would like to participate, to give back to the soldiers.” “You visit the soldiers at the hospital? What do you do?” Duke Brandon sat up as interest gleamed in his eyes.

“Anything that needs to be done. They are very shorthanded. Some days I help write letters from the boys to home, sometimes I read letters. I read books, or help with their personal needs. Some can’t use their arms to feed themselves, or shave, or comb their hair. The nurses don’t have time to do the little things. So I go and fill in where I am needed.” “Diane, why have you and your friends never done this?” the duke turned to her and demanded. She shifted in her seat. “I guess we never thought of it.” Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at the idea. She leads, indeed, Ambassador. “Lady Helena has about twenty women coming, but if you would like to attend, too, we’d be honored. There is so much work that needs to be done there and elsewhere.” Brett looked at her with hope. “I would like very much to attend, my dear. I will be there on Friday.” She nodded to Brett and was rewarded with a large smile. “It’s getting late, Brett, we need to be going.” Butler stood and put his drink glass down. Everyone stood as the party broke up. “Sir, may I escort Brett home?” Stephen asked. “Of course, we came in two cars. Take one, and then after you drop Brett, let the driver take you home,” Butler offered generously.

“Jonathan,” the duke said. “Perhaps since you have a second car, you would escort Lady Diane home?” Brett looked at her father with concern and bit her lip. Lady Diane picked up on it and felt his hesitation. For a brief moment, a sting of hurt shot through her, but Butler turned to her and took her hand. “Madam, I would enjoy riding with you immensely, but after the attempt on my life last year, I never ride with anyone.” His eyes burned, and his jaw was set. “It is an inconvenience, but I will only chance my own life.” She nodded her understanding. Good Lord, he was protecting her. She smiled at him, taking in his deep green eyes set in a ruggedly handsome face. A slow flush crept over her body with the sudden awareness of him as a man. “My driver will take you, Diane,” Duke Brandon said. They said good night and waited as the vehicles were brought around and loaded, until only Lady Diane and the duke were left. She offered her cheek to his kiss as he said, “Diane, thank you for coming tonight.” “You are looking pretty pleased with yourself, Alistair. Cat and canary comes to mind.”

“Just thinking of the day this house will be filled with children again, my dear.” His eyes twinkled in the light from the covered portico, and he helped her into the car, shut the door, and then turned to go inside. Diane leaned into the cushion of her seat. What she’d felt tonight, with the ambassador, had been more than she’d experienced since…since Marston. Certainly, she was far too old for giddiness? For that rush of excitement? For her body to long for his touch?

Chapter Twelve Stephen sat at his desk on the fourth floor of Military Headquarters and stared at his console. The data he poured over was puzzling, no doubt, but he couldn’t tell if he was bothered by it because it was odd, or if it was just his instincts. After years of sorting through data transmissions, he’d developed a knack for picking out the ones that needed further investigation. It was one of the reasons he’d advanced so quickly within his department. Two years ago he’d spotted the transmitted codes for an attempt to assassinate the Regent, deciphered it, and passed it on. When it had been rejected, he went out on a limb to push it through to the Regent’s own security, with the help of Johann. They finally had taken him seriously and his evidence to heart. A week later they had apprehended the cabal of conspirators. It had been kept very quiet, of course, even their subsequent executions for treason. Brandon had received a commendation, a medal, and most precious to him, a personal letter of appreciation from William, written in the Regent’s own hand.

Being promoted to senior analyst had been a major move up the career ladder; it insured he got the choice sectors to watch, the stuff that was really interesting, like the space around Euphrates Prime. You could make your career with this sort of stuff, he realized. He really wasn’t ambitious, but wanted to stretch himself. He could do his job without much effort, it came easily, and he liked it. But he loved the thrill of finding what might be nothing, checking it, researching, deciphering, and tracking it all down, which was great stuff. It was a bit like being a detective and working out a mystery. Now he stared at the screen, chewing on the end of his light pen, and let the wheels of his mind turn. This could be something or nothing. He needed more info, so he punched up some previous transmissions and reviewed them for matching headers. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair. This snippet of the transmission had been left over after the buffer emptied. An unusual event, and in light of the way the satellites operated, highly unlikely. But there it was nevertheless, a small fragment of a larger message. Brandon reviewed the communication satellite system linking the five planets of the Archipelago. They used a form of transmission known as multiplexing. All of the transmissions were broken up

in pieces, encoded with a header, beamed out into space, received at the next satellite, and then, using the headers, put back together and loaded into the buffer. If the message was due to go downside at the satellite, it was reconstructed and sent down to the planet. If it was not, the pieces were sent on, or bounced, to the next satellite, until the message reached its intended satellite. The buffers were emptied when they filled to a certain capacity, and the transmissions sent downside to the planet’s communication system to be delivered. This was all done by the satellite’s onboard computer. On the more heavily populated worlds, the buffer emptied at a faster rate, perhaps once an hour. Some other planets were less dense and the traffic lighter, so the buffer from their satellite emptied maybe once during a day cycle. The reason this piece of transmission was so interesting was that it had been bounced all over known space, finally coming down to rest in the satellite’s buffer near Old Earth. Its convoluted path had brought it to his computer’s attention; that and being the only piece left in the buffer after all its messages had been rebuilt and sent downside. A remnant of what looked like a top secret transmission.

The transmission had come from someone within the government; he could see it by the encoding in the heading. He couldn’t tell who, that part was missing, and he didn’t have security clearance for that high up. His trace ended at the government firewalls, and he couldn’t go beyond that without special codes. If asked, he would deny his job was spying, as would his superiors. Tracking and intercepting transmissions could be a seen as a form of spying. He sat back and wondered if he’d found a traitor, or at the least some type of internal government plot. That could be more dangerous than a traitor. If highpowered politicos were involved, doors could be shut on him, superiors leaned on. He could, in fact, be made to disappear if he got too close, and it was known who was digging into their plans. His assignment was looking for transmissions concerning the Ottomans. They had no satellite of their own, but they still had to have some type of knowledge of what the other worlds were up to, if only in self-defense. Ever since their jihad and defeat, no one really believed they would be repentant, change their ways and become peaceful. Everyone expected them to be nursing their wounds and readying themselves for the next assault. Each of the five other planets was on constant vigil against them. Because they had destroyed their own satellite, it was difficult for them to get information. The

Ottomans could try to send someone to infiltrate a planet, but the ports were heavily guarded, and entry was strictly controlled. The proper papers would be needed and would be very costly. Smuggling personnel onto a planet was close to treason, and was punished as such. So the very fear the Ottomans created about themselves was one of the things that made it so hard for them to obtain information. They had taken to bringing shipping freighters into docking orbit around one of the commsats and manually hacking into the communications flow, either removing messages or inserting them. It was dangerous because the satellites were so close to the planets and were patrolled, but it could be done if you were bold enough. There had been a few suicide hackers, who had killed themselves rather than be caught, their bodies wired with explosives, or with what were called suicide valves that once flipped, depressurized their space suits, killing themselves using the vacuum of space. The small fragment he had found, really only a few lines, read “our new weapon will be something big, powerful, and dangerous. It must not fall into the wrong hands.” But in the data, who “our” was, and who was supposed to be the “wrong hands” were missing. The message originated from a source offplanet, and had been sent to someone behind the government firewall. It seemed like it might have

been part of a progress report. Stephen was only just beginning to start his trace. Finding the rest of the message was imperative. The transmission had been sent out to space and bounced off so many satellites it made him dizzy tracking it—a deliberate way of trying to lose a trace. He projected the system with the satellites on his holovid and mapped its path with a red highlight. Then it just disappeared, with only this one piece left. Stephen ran a simulation of all the messages in the buffer at that point in time that had been sent downside or on to the next satellite, and he watched as the messages, shown as bursts of blue light, speeded off on their predestined ways. For that particular hour’s dump of the buffer, only one small piece was left. Of the over seven thousand messages in the buffer, about two thirds had been sent downside to Old Earth, and the rest bounced on to the next satellite at Alpha V. It had terminated on the NexSat5, a satellite that orbited Old Earth, but the full message had never been sent on from there, just that piece left sitting in the buffer. There was no record indicating the rest of the message had been reconstructed and sent downside. Why was this one piece left over? It was sort of like putting together a large puzzle and finding an extra piece at the bottom of the box.

If it didn’t go downside at Old Earth, then which planet did it go to? He would need to search each satellite’s buffer and computer system for records of the other encoded pieces. He groaned. It would be a long and tedious task. Stephen reached over, picked up his mug of coffee and took a sip, made a face, and placed it back down. Another cup gone cold. Working late nights had become a habit for him, and he had just about given up any sort of social life. He’d forgotten to eat again, too. He made a mental note to go down to the mess and see if he could find something. His mind wandered to Brett. He thought about her and closed his eyes, seeing her in his mind. She was everything he’d ever hoped for, and she loved him. At least he hoped she did; she’d agreed to marry him, hadn’t she? He could think of nothing he’d rather do than talk to her, about his work, his dreams, their life together. He replayed their walk in his grandfather’s garden, becoming lost in her kisses, when his computer beeped, signaling the completion of the simulation program. Sitting up, he cleared his head and stared at the info on the screen. He ran the simulation of the satellite beam. What if it had been sent on, past the point where it was needed, to throw someone, like him, off the trail? The transmission had been sent a week ago and was long

gone, except for the lone piece, but a record of it should still remain in the onboard computer of the satellite. But at which of the satellites had it been rebuilt? Had someone picked it up and noticed the missing piece? Why wasn’t it retrieved to erase the last piece of evidence? He hunched forward over the keyboard and typed in his access codes to the first satellite, then sat back and waited for the data to return, his dinner forgotten again. He decided to call Brett while he waited. When she came on, she was in her lightly lit room, sitting in front of her console. Her face was framed by her long hair, and she looked beautiful, at least to his eyes. “Sorry, am I too late to call?” Stephen asked softly. “No, it’s never too late to hear your voice.” Brett smiled at him, and together they touched the screen with their fingers. “I’m still at work, slogging away. I was thinking about you and just had to hear your voice.” “I’m glad you called, I was lying in bed, thinking about your kisses.” “Mm, what else were you thinking about?” “I was imagining how your hands would feel touching me…” Brett ran her hands down her throat,

and they disappeared off the screen, dipping below her shoulders. Stephen swallowed hard and closed his eyes, imagining his fingers stroking her. “We’ll never make it to the wedding if we keep going on like this,” Stephen whispered. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about these things, just the weather and work,” Brett suggested, a sly smile on her face. Stephen laughed and shook his head. “That would be worse, to repress it all. Oh, Brett, I have a feeling I’m going to need a very long, very cold shower tonight.” She laughed, and his world lit up. He told her he loved her, and she returned the feeling, and they signed off, with Stephen promising to call in the morning, as usual.

*** Brett picked Lady Diane up just thirty minutes before they were to arrive at Lady Stuart’s. She had dressed again in Commonwealth fashion, taking Lady Diane’s warning about fitting in to heart. She found it less and less irksome to put on a long skirt and soft slippers, but she still felt constrained. They weren’t her beloved jeans and boots, which always felt like

her second skin, but she had to admit the gowns were attractive. Lady Diane was ready and waiting, and she managed to look very pleased to see Brett as she took her seat in the back of the car. Lady Stuart’s home was a townhouse in a lovely neighborhood, with trees lining both sides of the street. The townhouse was one of five that stood connected to each other on the block. They were all three stories high, and not too narrow, with similar brickwork across the front. Lady Stuart’s house had an oversized front door, with a lovely etched glass transom over the top. They climbed the steps, and a uniformed maid opened the door before they’d reached the top. She showed them to the front parlor, where there were at least ten or eleven other women, some sitting, some standing, and all talking at once, it seemed. The chairs were arranged in rows so everyone could see the speaker. Everyone knew Lady Diane Brandon. She was greeted by the others, led to a chair up in front, and before Brett could blink, there was a cup of tea in Lady Diane’s hand. Lady Diane allowed herself to be looked after by the younger women, and with a smile, she patted the chair next to her for Brett to take. As Brett made her way through the small crowd, she was handed a cup of tea also, and she took the seat Lady Diane offered her.

Once seated next to Lady Diane, she was introduced to most of the women who attended. She’d seen few of them before, but most were strangers to her. Lady Diane knew them all. Brett was so flattered when Lady Diane introduced her as “Stephen’s fiancée” that she practically beamed. That Lady Diane looked happy, too, was an unexpected bonus.

When a young woman, Lady Lividia, a loose cannon of a woman, approached and introduced herself to Brett, she looked down her nose and wrinkled it. Lady Diane spoke a brief greeting and looked down at her lap, and Brett’s stomach sank. “So, this is the woman Lord Brandon has chosen? I wasn’t aware that he enjoyed the smell of horses!” Was she seriously implying that Brett smelled bad? Brett looked at the young woman and wondered what had set her off. She must be one of Stephen’s former…paramours, perhaps? The room had gotten very quiet, and Brett knew in an instant all eyes watched for her reaction. “Well, I believe he has just recently come to appreciate it, Lady Lividia.” Her voice stayed calm, and there was no malice in it. If anything, Brett could do control very well when she needed to. Being

underestimated was something that frequently played into Brett’s hand. The lady looked temporarily thrown, but regained herself and continued her attack. “I suppose off-worlders are all the fashion these days, if you like those types.” She sniffed. Brett remained silent. Lady Lividia looked around as if she had scored a point. Lady Helena Stuart stood. “Lividia, you wouldn’t dare make that comment if my sister were present.” Her eyes flashed anger. Helena’s sister Della was married to an off-worlder. Brett remembered her mentioning it. Lividia blushed a deep red. Brett wondered what Lady Lividia would do now, continue on going deeper into this mess, or back out gracefully? But Lividia’s next comment sent her in deeper. “You’ll soon find my dear, Lord Brandon is fickle, and like a bee, prefers to pollinate all the flowers he can find, never settling on just one.” In a heartbeat, Lividia realized Lady Diane Brandon sat next to Brett, and she clapped her hand over her mouth as if to stop the flow. But the water was already over the dam. Lady Diane’s gaze turned on Lividia, her mouth a tight line. Brett could see the anger lying just under the cool facade of Lady Diane’s face and held her

breath. Brett had no idea that her mere presence would stir up so much trouble. “My dear, I wasn’t aware that you had been ‘pollinated’ by my son. In fact, I wasn’t aware you were a flower he had ever lingered on.” Diane’s voice was like ice. Lividia paled. She’d insinuated Lord Brandon had compromised her virtue, and that would be the last thing she would have wanted anyone to think. For an unmarried lady to admit she was not a virgin was social death, even Brett knew that much. Lady Lividia shook her head and held out her hands in confusion. “No, that’s not what I meant, Lady Brandon. Lord Brandon and I never kept company! Not ever!” She backed slowly away from the front of the room, looking around at the other women, lips trembling, on the verge of tears. Brett realized the situation, took pity on the woman, and stood. All eyes turned to her and waited for her to speak. “Lady Lividia, I’m sure no one here doubts you. I certainly don’t. I hope you will stay for the meeting; we really need your help with this project.” She smiled at Lividia, who froze in her tracks. A look of relief passed over her face as the color returned, and she nodded.

“I wasn’t going to leave, Miss Butler, merely going to find my seat.” She moved down the row she stood near and plopped down into a chair. Brett was pretty sure that hadn’t been her seat, but smiled and nodded. Lady Diane looked at Brett and leaned over to her. “You didn’t have to do that, Brett. Her behavior was shameful.” “That may be, but we all deserve a little mercy,” she replied. Lady Diane nodded once. “Fair enough.” The meeting didn’t start until fifteen minutes later. Lady Helena waited for her sister Della to arrive; being pregnant gave her excuse to be late it seemed. Much fuss was made over her by the other women until she was safely seated, teacup in hand. Lady Helena began the meeting, and as Brett managed to get a look around her, everyone seemed lit up with interest at the idea of the Service Guild. She sat back, wrapped her arms around herself, and smiled. Perhaps she had found a place, not so different from home, which just might accept her. She’d learned over the last four years that acceptance was a hard commodity to find out here in the galaxy. If she married Stephen, she would have to bend. Bend to his society and its rules; bend to the needs of his career, not hers. She’d given that up four years ago, and that

was fine; it hadn’t been what she’d wanted for her life. Could she give up her dreams of returning home to run their family ranch? Perhaps she would be able to find a place for herself here. She could make a place for herself by Stephen’s side. Everything would be fine as long as she with him. Brett turned her attention to listen to Lady Helena Stuart and then stood as she was introduced, and began her talk about the Service Guild.

Chapter Thirteen Rogers stood on the steps of Duke Brandon’s house. After he’d rung the bell and explained who he was, he waited as the message was brought to the duke. He fully expected to be allowed in unless the duke was out or in conference with someone else. The last time he’d been here the duke had assured him he could return. He tapped his foot on the stone step and then forced himself to stop. The duke’s manservant returned to the door, opened it, and bid him enter. He led Rogers into the library where Brandon sat at his console going over data. The old man looked up and nodded. “Duke Brandon, I’m so glad you would see me. I have something that I believe will interest you; a project that could use just your point of view.” Rogers extended his hand to the duke and thrust forward a data disk. Brandon took it, slid it into his console, and called it up on the holovid. The two men watched as a schematic of a device rotated slowly before them. Brandon’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward and punched up some data. It streamed before him on the screen as the object continued to rotate slowly in midair.

“Is this your project, Rogers?” “No, sir. Let’s just say someone in my department is working on this.” “And he gave this to you to bring to me?” Brandon sat back watching the device spin. “Not exactly…Can we also just say that it was left lying around, and I stumbled across it?” Brandon nodded, understanding what Rogers was telling him. “We are certainly saying a lot without saying much.” The duke eyed him and then shrugged. “So what is the problem, Rogers?” Rogers had met the duke several times before as a member of the research and development team at HQ. About three months ago, he’d brought a problem with a sonic field generator to be debugged. It had an issue with a resonance loop that activated at a particular time in the power up sequence, causing it to feedback and then blow up. Everyone in the department had been stumped, and his supervisor suggested he take it to the old duke. Brandon had found the defect, suggested a simple correction, and it worked, saving the project from more cost overruns. “Well for one thing, this project doesn’t exist.” Rogers slowly twisted his wedding ring around his finger. Brandon looked up sharply and opened his hand to the holograph. “But here it is, nonetheless.” “Exactly, sir.”

“How do you know it’s not supposed to exist?” “I am now the accounting manager for our department. It’s a recent promotion, sir. I have access to all of the projects that our department is working on, and it is my job to match the money to the project. You know, staff time, equipment, that sort of thing, to be charged to the correct project. I handle all the invoices. It’s budget work, sir.” His voice belied his disappointment in the position. “This project is not on my list. It doesn’t exist.” The duke rubbed his chin and looked at the device again. “What does it do, Rogers?” “I was hoping you’d tell me, sir. I can’t figure it out. All I can tell is that it has something to do with antimatter.” The duke snorted. “Harnessing and focusing antimatter has been tried before, Rogers, and was an unmitigated disaster. We couldn’t do it; the stuff is too unstable, too volatile. It destroyed half the lab, I recall, before we canned the project as too costly and too dangerous. We were lucky no one was injured or killed.” Brandon leaned over the data readouts, this time hitting some buttons and scanning the results. “I knew your history with the stuff, sir, it’s in the files. I wondered if someone was using the work your fellows did, maybe jumping off from it?” Rogers suggested.

Brandon sat back again and looked at Rogers. The man was pale, slightly hunched, a typical R&D type, plain clothes, but an honest man, he felt. An honest man who had stumbled onto something perhaps not so honest? “You said you found this just lying around? Is this the only copy?” “The only copy I have, sir. The original is still with the owner, I guess.” He shrugged. Brandon wondered if he were being purposely vague or really didn’t know. “Any idea of who the owner might be? Or do you know and are concerned about approaching him?” “I don’t know who it is, but I’m not sure if I can just go around waving the disk and asking, ‘Does this belong to you?’” Rogers smiled nervously. “But I’m damn sure whoever it is doesn’t know I have this copy.” Again he flashed the nervous smile. “Let’s keep it that way for now. Do you mind if I keep this to look over? I’d like to see what they did to make this stable, or if they didn’t.” Brandon mused again and then said, “So if it’s not on the budget, how will it be built and tested? The labs are locked down, and any equipment appropriations would have to go through you.” “Build it elsewhere?” Rogers offered softly. “Fund it elsewhere?” Brandon looked up at Rogers. He’s smarter than I gave him credit for. The duke nodded. “R&D it here

then take it elsewhere to build and test. But where, and on this planet, or off? Last I heard, only a few of the planets had the ability to generate antimatter.” And why would someone take it off-planet? It smacked of something very wrong. Build it and turn it over to whom? In the wrong hands, this weapon could be a disaster or change the history of their worlds. “Rogers, I’ll work on it. You stay out of it for now, unless you get a lead on who is working it in the lab. If you do find anything, contact me immediately. I know how to deal with this through the proper channels.” Rogers nodded and stood. “Thank you, your grace.” Brandon gave a wave of his hand, dismissing Rogers, as if brushing away a fly. After he pushed a button on his desk, Blalock appeared to show Rogers out. Now, this was something he could get between his teeth, chew on, and get his juices flowing. Brandon rubbed his hands together, like a child with a new toy, and then set to work.

The door to the duke’s stately home opened, and Rogers stepped out. The door swung shut. Once again, he stood on the steps for a moment, deciding

whether to go back to work or home. His decision made, he headed toward his house. He’d done what he’d come here to do, and damn the consequences. He was lost anyway, no matter what. Better to die with your ethics intact than die as a traitor.

The man standing across the street and down the block from the duke’s house watched as Rogers left the mansion. Following orders, he trailed after him.

*** Jonathan sat at his console and stared at it. He rubbed his chin and then ran his hand through his hair. It had been nearly twenty-seven years, he calculated, since he’d asked a woman out on a date. There had been other girls before his beloved Elaine, but after his first date with her she had been the last woman he’d ever asked out. Now, at fifty, he was trying it again. He wouldn’t even be thinking about this, but he couldn’t bear another embassy dinner sitting across from that bastard Ambassador Konig from Alpha V. He was insufferable, always rubbing Jonathan's nose

in the empty seat next to him at the table. They were always seated across from each other at all the embassy functions. It had something to do with the order, by last names, supposedly, not to offend anyone, but if Jonathan were a betting man, he’d put money down that Konig arranged it that way. They’d met on Alpha V three years ago when he’d served there as ambassador, and Konig was attached to the ministry. Konig had taken an instant dislike to him. Once assigned here, he’d thought himself rid of Konig, only to find that he had been given the Ambassadorship to New Commonwealth. Konig used every available opportunity to needle him about his lack of female companionship. As if having a woman next to you made you more of a man. The man was well aware that Jonathan’s wife had died recently, but he never seemed to let that stop him from making rude or crass comments. Jonathan sighed. How did the man do it? Every time a different woman, and the last one had been scarcely out of her thirties. Hadn’t he ever heard of robbing the cradle? Konig was at least as old as Jonathan was, yet he seemed to have an endless supply of young women to drape over his arm. He was a good-looking man, but still…perhaps he had a harem hidden away in his embassy? Perhaps it was a perk of being an ambassador that Jonathan himself had not yet called up?

Jonathan’s reflection looked back at him from the console. He couldn’t call himself handsome, he guessed, too many years and too many battles behind him. It was an honest face though. Despite the lines around his eyes and across his forehead, he had a strong chin and deep green eyes. His brow might be a bit heavy, and his nose had that small bump where it had been broken, but he still had a full head of hair. Not too tall, yet a good solid six foot. His battle injuries didn’t show, not until he had to use his left arm. The shoulder could barely support anything of weight. He’d worked hard at his therapy, sweating past the pain, gritting his teeth to get the optimum arm extensions, doing the required arm curls with the weights. He thought the push-ups would kill him. All that work just to get the limited use he had now. At least it didn’t hang limp at his side; he knew he should be grateful for that. His chin jerked up in defense. He knew women. He’d met plenty of them, here and there. But he knew of only one woman who came to his mind when he’d originally thought about this idea of bringing a date. No, not a date, an escort, he corrected himself. That sounded better, more adult, not so…so…teenaged. She was the only one he wanted draped across his arm, and that realization surprised him. He stared at the console again, let out the breath

he held, and punched in the numbers. Better to do it before he lost his nerve. A face appeared on the screen, and Jonathan spoke, “Good afternoon, is Lady Brandon in?” “Can I ask who is calling, sir?” the face asked, probably her maid. “Ambassador Butler, if she’s not too busy.” The screen went gray and he was left to wait, staring at the Brandon crest. A moment later the screen flickered back to life. “Hello, Ambassador, good afternoon.” Lady Diane smiled back at him, her voice a melodious soft alto. “How can I help you?” He swallowed and began his invitation. “Well, I know it’s late notice, and I fully understand if you have other plans, so you needn’t worry about offending me if you say no.” He paused to take a breath, all this being said rather rapidly. Lady Diane’s head tilted slightly to the side as if trying to understand what he was getting at. “You’ll understand if I say no to what, Ambassador?” She raised her eyebrows in question. “I’m afraid I’m making a mess out of this.” He blew out his breath and started again, this time slower. “I have an embassy dinner tomorrow evening and was wondering if you would do me the honor of accompanying me?” That was better.

Now he just had to remember to breathe as he waited for her answer.

Lady Diane sat back and smiled. This was an unexpected turn of events, but a pleasant one. She gazed at the man on the screen. He looked nervous, and somehow shy. Those intriguing green eyes looked back at her, waiting, not with hope but…Good Lord, he was waiting for a rejection. Again she was struck at how he was so totally without pretense and how strongly that appealed to her. “I have no previous commitments, Ambassador. I would be pleased to attend the dinner with you.” She smiled, and watched his reaction. Butler let out his breath and his eyebrows shot up. A grin flashed across his face and then was quickly brought under control. He nodded once. “I will send my car around for you at 1900 and meet you there, Lady Diane, if that is acceptable.” She remembered about his rule of not riding with anyone, so she nodded and replied, “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Ambassador Butler.” She smiled at him, and then the connection was cut. She exhaled loudly and sat back, her mind spinning. She had only a day to prepare. Tapping the vidcom, she booked an appointment with her stylist.

*** Duke Brandon let out a long, low whistle, sat back, and scratched his chin. He stared at the data readout, putting the last of the pieces of his theory into place. “You bastard, whoever you are, you did it! Harnessed antimatter, damn you. This looks like Komenka’s work, but he’s been dead for five years. The elegance of the focusing mechanism smacks of him, but it couldn’t be, unless his work has been stolen.” He touched the screen and mumbled to himself, “This work here, on the safety mechanism, looks like our work, and that would make sense if someone were piggy-backing off it.” All the components to create this device were in their research facility; all the person had to do was make the jump from three separate technologies to connecting them together. It would take someone well-versed in projects that were both past and present. Therefore, it followed that it had to be someone in the R & D department working on this project. But who they were doing it for? If Rogers didn’t know about it, could it be one of our boys? Top-secret projects had always been known to the administrators

in order to facilitate the materials and manpower. Creative accounting was used in many departments, if Brandon remembered correctly. He touched the schematic to stop it rotating and zoomed in on the area he was currently interested in, the antimatter control system. The problem ultimately was how to focus a tight beam of antimatter and control it over a long distance, either feet or yards or miles. Without focus, the antimatter went everywhere, spreading out in an ever-widening swath of destruction. When his group had worked on it, they couldn’t come up with a stable way to focus the beam to make it safe enough to use. New Commonwealth could create antimatter; that wasn’t ever the problem. How to use it without killing yourself and everyone around you, and how to store it until you used it, were the real issues. When it was created, it had to be used in that instant, there was no way to contain it to use later. But coming up with a way to contain it had been harder than they thought. If the antimatter touched matter, an explosion occurred instantly. A powerful weapon, but to have an antimatter reactor onboard a starship, and to create it as needed, was very dangerous. When created, it had to be used or dispersed, basically letting it collapse in an implosion, a process not without its own dangers.

Brandon touched the image with a stylus and pulled one of the parts to the side for further study. The focusing method was almost too simple, and at first, he didn’t think it really worked. As he ran through the simulations, he changed his mind. It used lasers with a generated magnetic field in a simple ring around the opening. The lasers formed a cylinder around the antimatter, focusing the beam until it hit its target. The antimatter was held inside the lasers by the generated magnetic field. It was the ingenious way the lasers were laid out and magnetically charged down their entire length that was the key. The lasers were not like pinpoint beams, but long and flat, butted together to form a sort of wall. It used several shapes of beams. Eight supercompressed, magnetically charged beams formed an octagon around the stream of antimatter, encasing it right up to impact. This allowed for a narrow focused beam. A four-sided beam could be used to create a widespread beam. With different shapes of antimatter beams one could create a range of beams, from pinpoint to a wide swath. The tube that held the antimatter was titanium and generated its own internal magnetic field, keeping the antimatter confined inside the tube, yet not actually touching any matter, making it stable. It too could be created in differing sizes, from a

handheld weapon, to a shipboard weapon, to one large enough to defend a planet. Finally, here was the key to stability of storage, unlocking its use. It was the ability to generate and attach the magnetic charge to the lasers that they had been missing all those years ago. They could produce the antimatter, and God knew, they’d had lasers forever, but creating a magnetic charge that attached to the laser itself, that was pretty recent stuff. Overall, the concept was brilliant, elegant, and simple. It was the kind of work he respected. Brandon sat back and rubbed his eyes. This was a real breakthrough in weaponry, something no one else had, a technology that made the leap from conventional weapons to a new “superweapon.” He stared again, and his mind ran to the only conclusion he could make. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. With a weapon like this, you could defend a planet or conquer a world. The question was, who was going to use it? How would it be used and against whom? He wondered if he should contact Rogers and let him know about the progress he’d made but decided he would have to bring this to Military Headquarters' attention first thing on Monday. Rogers would have to wait.

He finished typing his conclusions, shut off the console, and went to bed.

Chapter Fourteen Lady Diane sat in the back of the ambassador’s car and looked out the window as it drove through the city towards the New Commonwealth Embassy. The car was large, the driver silent, the seats deep and plush, and there was a commlink built into the pull down center armrest. She was dressed in her favorite velvet gown, with a sheer wrap that matched. It was the same blue as her eyes. Her slippers had been dyed to match the gown, as was the small clutch she carried. She hoped the gown wasn’t too low cut. The top of her cleavage showed, and it barely sat on her shoulders, but even at her age she could pull it off. Her throat was still tight and smooth, her skin still clear and soft. She wore a pale pink cameo set, earrings and a necklace that had belonged to her mother. The sleeves of the gown were long, so she wasn’t wearing gloves, which she hated, and she kept her nails short, neat, and unpainted. Her blonde hair was parted in the middle and braided on the sides toward the back, tied with a matching blue velvet ribbon, and then hung down loose down her back. It had taken her two hours to

get ready, and before that two hours for the woman to do her hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she had dressed for a man. She spotted him on the walk in front of the embassy, and excitement skittered through her. It had been a long time since she’d felt that rush, and she had to breathe deeply to regain her composure. Jonathan Butler stood out in the crowd of people milling about, his military training evident as he stood at parade rest, hands behind his back, and waited for the car. He wore a black diplomatic suit, with its long tails, short-waisted front, vest of red, crisp white shirt, and his diplomatic sash, which hung over his shoulder and was clasped at his side with the gold and enamel broach of his planet. His large hands were encased in white gloves. He looked very handsome, very dashing. She wondered how long it had taken him to dress for her, and if he was as nervous as she. The car glided to the entrance and waited its turn in line. At last it pulled up, and Butler stepped in front of the doorman and opened the door for her himself. She slid across the seat and took his hand as he guided her out of the backseat. “Lady Brandon, you look stunningly beautiful.” Butler’s gaze took her in, naked in his appreciation.

Her heart fluttered, and she felt the burn of a blush rising on her cheeks. “Thank you, Ambassador,” she replied. “I’m sorry if I’m late.” “Not at all. Right on time. And please, call me Jonathan.” She smiled as his gaze took her in. He bowed and extended his arm, and she took it as they climbed the short staircase to enter the embassy.

*** The policewoman sat on the couch next to the woman and handed her a tissue to wipe her eyes. They sat in the living room of the small apartment. It had been trashed, doors open, drawers pulled out, contents scattered everywhere. The other rooms were the same. The bed had been turned over. Even the contents of the bathroom had been gone through. “Are you sure nothing is missing, Mrs. Rogers?” the policewoman asked. The woman wiped her eyes and nodded. “I’m wearing all the jewelry I own, and we never kept money in the house.” She was about thirty-five, dark haired and slim. Her dress was not expensive; in fact, there was

nothing very expensive in the apartment. The couple’s belongings were sparse, yet well made, but not the finest. Certainly not worth stealing, from what the policewoman could see. “When did you last see your husband?” She tried to get more information from the distraught woman. “When he left for work this morning. I leave about an hour after that. The door was locked; I swear I never leave it open. This building has had burglaries before, last year. But since the co-op put in the surveillance cameras, we haven’t had many problems.” She looked around and took a breath. “I don’t understand where my husband is. He should have been home from work an hour ago. He usually gets home before me, since he leaves so much earlier.” She bit her lower lip, obviously worried about him. “I called him right after I called the police, but his secretary said he had left early today. He didn’t tell me he was going to be home early this morning.” “I have to ask this—could he be in some sort of trouble?” the policewoman asked, carefully watching the woman’s face for any signs. “No, he would have told me.” Mrs. Rogers shook her head. “What kind of trouble? He is a scientist, Officer. He doesn’t drink, take drugs, or gamble. He’s hardworking, decent, a good man. No, I’m sure of it.” Her hands lay in her lap and twisted the tissue.

“Well, we don’t see any signs of a struggle, no blood, and no ransom notes. Perhaps he will return shortly. Maybe he met someone and went with them somewhere after work?” There was no nice way to ask a wife if she knew whether her husband cheated on her. “If you are trying to say my husband was, is, having an affair, you can forget that idea. We’ve only been married for a year.” Mrs. Rogers' voice lowered, and she spoke softly, “I know he loves me, Officer.” The officer stood, tapped her stylus on her pad, and looked around. “Do you have someone to stay with you, help you clean up?” She didn’t want to leave the woman alone. “Yes, I called my sister; she’ll be here shortly.” The officer took a final look at the lock on the door. It wasn’t broken or jammed, and the doorframe was intact. Whoever entered had a key, or had known what they were doing. The place had been searched, not robbed, but with nothing else to go on, she had her hands tied. It was too soon to put in a missing persons report, but the idea tickled at the back of her mind. She pulled out a card from the pad and handed it to the woman. “If your husband shows up, or doesn’t show up, in twenty-four hours, or if you think of anything else, or if you find something is missing, please call me at that number.”

“Thank you, Officer, I will.” The patrolwoman left, and Mrs. Rogers closed the door behind her.

*** Ambassador Butler and Lady Diane Brandon moved through the crowd toward the drinks table. He handed her a tall flute of champagne and took one for himself. They moved away, and he warmly greeted Ambassador Pheydor and his wife, from Century IV. Butler obviously liked him. Pheydor was dressed in a similar manner as Butler; all the diplomats wore the same suit. Only the sashes and broaches were different, signifying their home planets. This man’s suit was tight fitting over his portly stomach, with his gloves stuffed carelessly into his pocket. His wife was taller than him, slim, and she wore a dark green gown. She had soft features and dark hair. In the course of the conversation, Diane learned that they had been married for over twenty-five years, and he had been a businessman before being given the ambassadorship. This was his third assignment, and he was planning on retiring soon and going back to a more private life on their home planet.

Diane tried to remember what she knew about Century IV so she could converse with them and not look like a fool. It was their nearest planet and had also been attacked by the Ottoman’s around the same time as New Commonwealth. They had only just repelled the attackers and were a mining planet, dependent on New Commonwealth to provide the imported food and goods they didn’t have. Diane kept her hand on Jonathan’s arm as the conversation wound down, and they moved off to greet someone else. This was going to be a boring evening, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She’d been at too numerous state dinners and affairs to give this one evening a thought. Butler glanced at her, and she gave him a warm smile. The next couple to approach her and Jonathan was the ambassador and his wife from Xui Lu. Ambassador Feng was dressed in his diplomatic suit, but his wife was dressed in the fashion of their home planet. Her gown was made of red silk embroidered with flowers and birds, and it was wrapped around her waist by several layers of fabric belting. It had large, long sleeves, a high collar, and the skirt was slit on the side to her knees. She was tall and thin, which added to her exotic look. The ambassador and his wife had almond-shaped eyes, long black straight hair, hers left free, but his

tied into a high, tight ponytail at the crown of his head, and they both spoke fluent English. She didn’t doubt they also spoke several of the different dialects that flourished on Xui Lu. They made formal small talk, nothing of a personal nature, bowed, and moved on. So far, the evening progressed just as Diane thought it would—small talk and lots of smiling. She felt Jonathan’s arm muscle tense under her hand even before she saw the couple approaching them. This ambassador was tall, at least six foot two, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He was definitely handsome, but in a vain, self-conscious way. She looked more carefully at him. He was about the same age as Jonathan, but with none of the selfdeprecation. The man’s hair had been styled and pomaded so heavily so that no strand dared fall out of place. Quite a peacock; Diane did her best to control the smile tweaking the corners of her mouth. The woman accompanying him was much younger, perhaps in her mid to late thirties, with blonde hair piled up on her head in an elaborate style. She’d dressed in a way that said “expensive” and “paid for”; the expression on her overly made-up face gave the impression of perpetual boredom. What was she bored with—her escort, herself, or this party? With a wolfish and arrogant smile, the ambassador approached them. The look in his eyes

made Diane brace herself, telling her that this would not be pleasant. “Oh Christ, it’s Konig,” Jonathan muttered under his breath. “Butler, there you are!” Konig barked, almost like an accusation as he bore down on them, his woman hanging onto him. “Not alone for once, I see.” Konig’s gaze traveled up and down the length of Diane’s body, taking her in, appraising her. Diane wanted to cover herself with her hands beneath his gaze, as if he had undressed her and she stood naked before him. Unconsciously, she stepped closed to Jonathan, as he protectively placed his other hand over hers and braced himself. “Ambassador Konig and Miss…” Jonathan bowed briefly to the woman. “This is Miss Martin, Miss Sylvia Martin,” Konig introduced her and waited for Jonathan’s introduction. “May I introduce Lady Diane Brandon?” She nodded to Konig and smiled politely to the woman. “Butler, wherever have you been keeping this one? I can see why you’d want her all to yourself.” He had the nerve to leer at her, and his woman looked away as if not interested or offended in the conversation in the least. Konig licked his lips as he continued to stare at her as if she were on the menu for tonight’s meal.

She moved closer to Jonathan.

Jonathan growled low in his throat. How dare that pig ogle Lady Brandon? The man had sunk low before, but this was the lowest. Every fiber in his body yearned to deck the bastard, and his good hand curled into a tight fist. “Lady Brandon, whatever are you doing with this old soldier?” Konig waved in the direction of Jonathan. “How is it that I haven’t run across you before?” He stared openly at her breasts. The muscles in Jonathan’s jaw jerked in anger. “Perhaps we run in different circles, sir,” Lady Diane said icily and pulled her wrap around her shoulders as if to cover herself from his eyes. “Then I must certainly change my circle,” Konig added smoothly. “I wouldn’t bother, if I were you.” Her eyes were cold, even though she still smiled. Konig paused, taking in the comment, and his gaze flicked toward Jonathan. He tried again. “Perhaps I could call on you, Lady Diane? I’m sure Ambassador Butler wouldn’t mind.” He pulled a calling card from his breast pocket and held it out to her. “I’m afraid not. I see only Ambassador Butler.” She smiled back at him, refusing to take the card, and

tightened her grip on Jonathan’s arm. Butler’s gaze met Konig’s and held it until Konig looked away. Konig gave a brief bow to Lady Diane. “We’ll see you later at dinner, Ambassador, Lady Diane,” he sneered and then moved away, dragging the silent woman behind him. Jonathan and Diane both let out their breaths and looked at each other. His steady gaze begged her forgiveness and hers forgave him. “What an absolutely horrible man!” She gave a little shudder. “And that woman?” He looked at her guiltily. “We sit across from them at dinner.” Jonathan waited for her to react, to insist on leaving, to not have to suffer the couple. Konig had been incredibly insulting, and Jonathan had endured it as Konig had eyed Lady Diane. Feeling guilty at having said or done nothing, still he didn’t know what he could have done. Getting into a fistfight to defend his date’s honor, although satisfying, wouldn’t have been appropriate or dignified. However, he’d known what he wanted to do, and his fists tightened as he thought about it. He watched Konig from across the room. Jonathan’s face had set like a stone statue, but his soul burned. Lady Diane leaned in close to him, and whispered, “Sir, he will never touch me.”

Jonathan turned to her and softened under her tender gaze. He reached out and touched the curve of her jaw with the back of his hand. “Diane,” his voice rasped. For a moment, she leaned into his touch, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he wanted to kiss a woman.

Chapter Fifteen Diane stared up into Jonathan’s green eyes as he stroked her face. Somewhere deep inside her, a longdead ember smoldered, then ignited, taking her breath away. She gasped, lips parted, and all she could see were Jonathan’s lips as he leaned in. The sound of a deep gong announced dinner, and they separated. “Dinner,” he said, his voice much deeper than it had been. She didn’t trust her own, so she nodded and took the arm he offered her. They turned to go in and find their seats. With all present there were fourteen at table. Butler guided her around to the far end of the table; their seats were six down from New Commonwealth Ambassador Rohan, but unfortunately across from Konig. Jonathan held out her chair as she sat and then seated himself. Diane took a moment to adjust her wrap and gown, then placed her hands in her lap and waited. Since she was placed highly herself as the queen’s social secretary, she was fully aware of the agendas of these events. Usually speeches were made, political

points curried, and behind the scenes deals made amongst the attendees. Since this was an embassy function, neither the regent nor the queen were present, but the prime minister and his wife were seated to the right of the ambassador, and she caught his eye and nodded to him. Konig and his young woman seated themselves. Diane noticed he did not hold out her chair, but let one of the servants do it. The man was a pig. She sighed, deciding this would be a long night. These events could go on for hours and after dinner there would probably be dancing. Would Butler ask her to dance? It had been years since she’d danced and enjoyed it, caught up in a man’s arms, being swept along the dance floor to the strains of the orchestra. Perhaps the night wouldn’t be a total disaster. She steeled herself and prepared to make endless small talk, something at which she was a master. On her other side sat Ambassador Feng and his wife, and she had a feeling that she wouldn’t have to make much conversation with them. They were noticeably distant, not just to her, but to everyone. Ambassador Rohan stood and began his welcome speech, then neatly segued into his agenda. Trade rights were the issue du jour, and he made several points about the opening of trade through lowering tariffs from outlying worlds and raising them on exports. All of the affected planets had

representatives present. It was a great deal for New Commonwealth, but for their trading partners that was yet to be determined. Diane noted that he mentioned Old Earth frequently, and watched Butler as he responded to Rohan with a very slight nod. Rohan droned on and then eventually gave up the floor to the food, much to everyone’s relief. The first course arrived, a soup of local prized mushrooms, served in small bowls. The tableware was exquisite; silver gleamed everywhere. A low centerpiece nestled between every other couple and short candles glowed softly. The lights had been lowered as the first course came out and would no doubt be raised when the meal was over. Butler passed on the wine, as she did, and drank only water. Diane deftly added some fresh lemon to hers and sipped. His manners were good, and he could speak on just about any topic. When a topic came up that he didn’t know, he would adroitly turn it around and have the questioner explaining it all. As for her, she spoke only when spoken to and never offered her opinion, well aware that as his guest her behavior would reflect on him. However, that was not the case across the table. Diane sat in wonderment as the young woman repeatedly opened her mouth and inserted her foot. Konig seemed not to care, perhaps knowing that no

one would pay any attention to the piece of fluff he had brought. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about; they should be able to charge whatever they want, and if you want their merchandise you should pay for it,” Miss Martin blathered on to the man next to her. He tried to explain how some deals could be beneficial to both parties, but she just shrugged her shoulders. Diane just bet that Miss Martin never gave discounts. During the second course, a cheese plate, Konig turned his attention back to Butler. His eyes became slits, and he put his elbows on the table and tented his hands. “Well, Butler, how do you stand on this proposal?” “It has its merits, however, like most proposals there will be counterproposals to come.” “Counterproposals?” Konig snorted. “How will you vote for it? Or are you riding the middle of the road again? You know, you can get killed standing in the middle of the road.” He glared at Butler as if daring him to speak. “I will be presenting the proposal to the government of Old Earth with my own suggestions as to its merits; it will be up to them to decide its fate.” Butler didn’t rise to the bait, but answered around it.

“I wonder when you were general if you were as vague. You could get a lot of men killed with indecision like that.” His lip turned up at Butler, evidently hinting at something Diane didn’t understand. Butler stiffened next to her, and his breath hissed slowly between his clenched teeth. She reached under the table and touched his leg. “Ambassador Konig,” she began, “how exactly will you vote, sir?” He turned to her and smiled, temporarily distracted. “Lady Brandon, I of course will not support this measure. I see no benefit for Alpha V, since we only export raw materials, but our imported items are vast. The tariffs alone would cripple our economy.” He continued to everyone around them, “Our planet is so new, compared to some of the others, and we have not developed a wide enough range of export items to support such a measure. Perhaps in another twenty years or so we will be in a better position.”

Jonathan listened, and Konig did make sense. He might be an ass, but he was politically smart. He wouldn’t have gotten where he was if he were any less of a politician. It was true; his planet was in a different economic place, as were a few of the others. This would be a hard vote, and concessions would have to be made on a planet-by-planet basis.

The talk continued, uneventfully, and the final course served, a choice of either local fish or some sort of processed beef. The meal ended, and the lights came up. They were informed dessert, coffee, and after-dinner drinks would be served in the ballroom. The guests made their way back into the ballroom, and the music started. A quartet of musicians played in the corner of the room, and soft music filled the space. Champagne was passed around on trays by servers, and the doors to the garden were opened. A table was laid with several different desserts, and the small plates and silverware lay out next to them. The ballroom was so ornate that little needed to be done to it. The music played at just the right level; you could still talk over it if you stood close. Small groups of men huddled all around the room, making deals, working up support for the tariff issue, or tearing it down. The women, often deserted, stood on the sidelines, sipped their drinks, ate dessert, and talked to each other. A set of double doors opened to the garden for anyone who wished to stroll. Thousands of tiny white lights wrapped the trees, covered the bushes, and outlined the walks. Ambassador Rohan and his wife started the dancing, and soon several other couples took to the floor. Diane and Jonathan stood on the side and

watched as the couples danced past them. The music was in a slow tempo, not even as fast as a waltz. He took her drink from her hand, placed it on a nearby table, and led her to the dance floor. With her heart beating in her ears, she followed him, excited at the prospect of being held in his arms, as if she were a schoolgirl at her first dance. Silly, really, she’d danced countless times before, with countless men. Jonathan placed his hand on her waist and offered his hand. He’d removed his gloves at dinner, and their palms met, spreading heat between them. She placed one arm around his neck, and they moved slowly to the music. He was a good dancer and led well. Their bodies were close, but not touching. She looked past his shoulder and could just see over it as she watched the other dancers. His cologne, a musky but clean scent, filled her nostrils, and she quietly breathed it in.

Jonathan’s chin came just to the top of Diane’s head, and her hair brushed it as they moved. She smelled so very good, and he was sure most of it was her own body scent. If he lowered his head just a bit his lips might nuzzle her ear, but he didn’t do it, afraid of being seen as too forward in such a public place. He’d seen how

she’d treated Konig’s insolence, and he had no taste for it tonight. They danced until the song ended and then separated. As they started to leave, Jonathan pulled her to him swiftly to dance again as Konig advanced toward them. But when Konig saw them begin to dance, he backed off, waiting for his chance. “Dance over to the door to the garden, and as soon as this dance is over we can make our exit,” she suggested to him. “Good strategy, Diane, a hasty retreat, indeed.” “More like an escape, with camouflage thrown in,” she said, and he grinned at her joke. “Too bad I’m not wearing my old camo fatigues; we’d blend in better.” “But what would I wear?” she asked as she gazed up at him, a tease dancing in her blue eyes. “I’ll hide you under a bench.” “But my gown, it would be ruined. Think again,” she challenged him. “You could strike a pose and pretend you were a statue.” “That’s good. I hope there are no birds.” He barked out a laugh. “Not at night, so you’re safe.” “Then it’s the perfect plan.” She laughed.

“There is no perfect plan; there is only the plan you start with, then life happens, and you adjust.” He frowned, thinking of his own disastrous perfect plan. They danced on, and she spoke again, “What did Konig mean by ‘indecision could get men killed’?” He didn’t answer at first, wishing like hell they’d never met that bastard Konig, and then he exhaled. “It was an attempt to irritate me and perhaps set me off. There was an incident during the Ottoman War. Men were lost due to my indecision. I hesitated, and it cost many men their lives.” She tilted her head. “But you won the war, didn’t you?” “Yes, but there are many battles in a war. You know going in you’re going to win some of them and lose some. It’s how they’re lost that matters. Losing due to the superiority of your enemy is one thing; losing by your own negligence is another thing.” She frowned. “Were you negligent?” “No, nothing as great as that. I was just too slow.” “I understand how the loss of personnel can weigh on the commanding officer.” She met his gaze and smiled softly. He swallowed and pulled her just a little closer. The music ended, and they were positioned adjacent to the doors leading to the garden. In three steps they were through them and into the night.

*** Duke Brandon entertained a few of his old cronies, men he had served with almost forty years ago. Most were dukes now, like him, but others held merely their old ranks, and a few of those had made general. All had either gray or white hair, what they had of it, and each wore his old uniform. They sat around a large round table in the library that had been specially set up, as they played cards and drank. “My soon to be granddaughter-in-law will be teaching me poker tomorrow,” Brandon announced to the others smugly. He was in an excellent mood, happy really, and why not? He’d solved the mystery of the weapon, and his grandson would be getting married to an incredible woman. “Poker? That’s a gambling game, isn’t it?” one of the generals asked. “Yes, it is.” Brandon drew another card, not the one he wanted. “I hope she’s teaching you to cheat, Alistair. I can’t see you parting with any of your money.” Everyone laughed good-naturedly at the joke. “Did you say daughter-in-law? You don’t mean that grandson of yours finally got caught?” another man asked as he placed four cards on the discard pile.

“She’s not pregnant is she?” another suggested, sketching a large belly with his hand. Brandon glared at him. “How dare you, sir! I should invite you outside!” The insinuation riled Brandon, and he stood as the other man pushed back his chair also. “Sit down, Brandon! It was more a remark about Stephen than the girl. He has a reputation, after all.” The man made motions with his hands to sit down, and shook his head, his eyes laughing. He sat in his chair and grinned at the others at stirring Brandon up. “In that case, point taken.” Brandon took a sip of his drink and sat back. “This girl is different. She’ll give Stephen the challenge he needs; she’s no pushover, her.” “Who is she, then?” “Ambassador Butlers’ daughter; her name is Brett.” He lifted his eyebrows as if to say, “how about that.” “I’ve heard about her from my wife; seems she is making quite a favorable impression on the womenfolk. I hear she is beautiful.” Brandon nodded. “That she is, gentlemen; however, she is also smart, brave, honorable, and best of all, Stephen is in love with her!” He raised his glass in toast and became serious. “Here’s to grandchildren!”

The men all stood, held up their glasses in a serious salute, and shouted, “To grandchildren!” and one added, “May the first child be a son!” and they all drained their glasses in one gulp.

*** Jonathan led Diane into the garden and down the path, then veered off to the left. At the end of the path stood a bench. She sat in a swirl of fabric on one end of it, and he stood next to her, at parade rest, his hands behind his back. “Ambassador Butler, will you please sit down?” She motioned to the empty space next to her on the bench. He moved to her side, brushed his tails behind him, and sat with his hands between his knees. She waited for him to speak. “I stopped wearing my wedding ring only a year ago,” he began tentatively, and then his voice faded as he stalled out. There was a brief silence until she spoke, “The duke was right; six months after Marston died there were men everywhere. However, I hadn’t finished crying, and Stephen was devastated. So the years passed, and I was done crying, but Stephen was still in no condition.” She shook her head, and shrugged.

“I just couldn’t drag some man into his life. What would I have said, ‘Surprise, son, here’s your new father!’” She looked down at her hands and shrugged. “Brett encouraged me to strike out on my own. Of course, she was twenty-four, a mature adult, she understood, but I wasn’t ready.” He rubbed his hands on his legs. “I soon realized Stephen had been so hurt by his father’s death, he might never be ready to accept someone.” She paused and looked out at the lights in the garden. Her voice lowered. “I took a lover when Stephen was fourteen.” Jonathan tried not to look at her, but the surge of jealousy that shot through him couldn’t allow him an image of her having a lover. “I…” she paused, and her voice dropped even lower, “craved the touch of a man again. At least that’s what I thought at the time. But I soon realized what I craved was the intimacy that only exists between people who love each other.” Jonathan’s silence must have urged her, and she continued, “However, we were not in love; it was mere convenience for both of us. I ended it after three months.” He shook his head. “I never expected to feel the way I’d felt about my wife with another woman. I was so blessed with Elaine. I convinced myself I’d never fall in love again. Wanting that again would be

greedy, wouldn’t it?” He looked at her, searching her eyes. She met his gaze and laid her hand on his leg. Jonathan stared down at it and swallowed. “Be greedy, Jonathan,” she whispered. He looked up at her and raised a hand to cradle her face, his fingers in her hair. So beautiful, she took his breath away. Her blue eyes closed at his touch and then opened, pupils wide and dark, as he pulled her to him. His lips brushed hers softly, and then he pulled away, rested his head against hers, and sighed softly. This couldn’t be happening, not to him. He didn’t deserve this second chance, and certainly didn’t deserve her. But whether he did or not, he was here, and she was letting him kiss her and that would have to be good enough for him. He kissed her forehead, slowly worked his way to her mouth, and then kissed her again. She parted her lips slightly, his tongue found hers, and they hungrily kissed. She whimpered, her hands clutched his jacket, and then pulled away. “Take me home.” She said it flat, with no hint of emotion in her voice, but the heat burning in her eyes told him enough. He nodded and they stood. They walked past the doors, into the ballroom and out to the foyer.

Jonathan called for her car, handed her into it. “I’ll be right behind you. Take Lady Brandon back to her home.” The driver saluted him and closed the door.

She gave Jonathan a smile and settled back into the seat as the driver pulled away. A laugh, more of a giggle really, bubbled up from her as she thought over their moonlit kisses. Sobering, she told herself this was quite odd, and that no one would ever believe that she, a settled woman of a certain age, would feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. She reached her building only a few minutes before Jonathan and waited in the car for him, until he opened her door, and she got out. He spoke to her driver, and the vehicle drove off. Then he went to his car and told the driver to relax and wait for his call. The car moved off to park farther down the block. Together they entered the building and rode the elevator up in silence to her apartment.

Chapter Sixteen The three men stood apart, staring at the fourth man, tied to a chair. His head hung, and his slack body, held up only by the ropes that bound him, listed to the side. The cold, dark room, just four walls and one door, seemed almost too small for the four of them. “You idiot, why did you send for me? Just to tell me you have no new information? I told you I would be busy tonight.” The man wore a formal black suit with tails, and a sash over his shoulder. “You must have missed something.” “I’m sorry, sir, but he won’t talk. If I keep on, I’ll probably kill him.” The man who spoke was large, powerful, and bald. His wore black leather gloves and held a short piece of stropping leather in his hand. “You, are you sure you searched everywhere?” the man in the sash asked angrily, turning on the other, smaller man. “I’ve been following him for days, milord. Work, home, work, home, he never goes anywhere else. Pretty boring chap, this one.” The man was thin, of average height, and plain looking.

“There must be something you are overlooking. If the disk isn’t at his house and not at his work and not on him, it has to be somewhere else. Are you sure you searched his office thoroughly?” “I tossed the office properly, milord, even got into the locked spaces, but no disk.” He shook his head. “Well, you have to find it. Need I remind you, if we don’t find that disk with the schematics our whole plan will be destroyed? No disk, no money.” He paced back and forth in the cramped room, then turned to the man slumped in the chair and spoke to him, despite his unconscious state. “Rogers, you stupid fool. I worked so hard to get you into that department without anyone getting wind of you. We invested so much time and money in you. The promotion to place you in charge of the accounts so you could cover up the R&D costs. All that effort, just for you to have a guilty conscience at the finish and try to double-cross me. When I buy someone, I expect them to stay bought.” He raised his hand as if to strike him, but stopped and spoke to the smaller man, “You’re missing something, that disk didn’t just vanish. Did you check everywhere he went?” “The only other place he went was to visit some old duke. He was there for about thirty minutes, then left,” the smaller man said. “What? Who is this old duke?” The man in the sash turned to him, fists clenched.

“A Duke Brandon, I believe. He’s an old man, about seventy years old.” “Brandon? Not Alistair Brandon?” His eyes narrowed and his lips drew back in a grimace. The smaller man nodded, his eyes wide with fear and the dawning realization he had made a big mistake and might have to pay for it. The diplomat closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Then he took a deep breath and let it out. This is what he got for working with idiots. He spoke slowly and lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper, “Colonel Alistair Brandon, now Duke Brandon, was the weapons master for Military Intelligence for almost thirty years. His group did the first R&D work on antimatter weapons. It’s the work Rogers used to piggyback off of to develop our weapon, so we didn’t have to reinvent the wheel.” He strolled over to the small man, backing him up, cringing, against the wall. “I didn’t know who he was; I just thought he was some old man, an old friend.” The man wheedled and whined, with his hands outstretched to either beg forgiveness or ward off any blows that might rain down on him. “He has the disk. Rogers must have brought it to him.” The diplomat turned back to stare at the man tied to the chair with a new appreciation. He hadn’t been so dense after all. “Search the Duke’s house, find

the disk.” He picked up his gloves and jerked them on. “But it won’t be easy, sir, he has a large live-in staff. The house is very big, with security, and people come and go all day long.” “Then bring the duke here and let him”—he shoved his thumb at the larger man—“persuade him to tell us where it is.” “Yes, sir.” “If this man is as old as you say,” interrupted the large man, “it will have to be done carefully. I could easily kill him before he tells us anything.” “Perhaps there is someone else we can use to persuade him to tell us?” the little weasel suggested, eager to curry favor again. It disgusted him to see the hunger in the man’s eyes. “Good thinking. I’ll leave it up to you to take care of it. Don’t call me again until you have some information, or the disk.” He reached the door when the large man called to him. “Sir? What should I do with this fellow?” The man grabbed Rogers by the hair and pulled his head up. Rogers’s eyes were swollen shut, his nose broken and bleeding, and his mouth was a mangled mess. Blood ran down onto his shirt and leaked from his ears.

“Kill him and dump him somewhere he won’t be found for a while.” The diplomat left, slamming the door behind him.

*** Jonathan rolled onto his side and looked down at Diane lying beside him. She still slept, her hair loose around her, the sheets pulled up to just above her hips. He stroked her slowly, running his fingers over her naked body from her neck, between her breasts, and to her stomach. How long had it been since he’d laid like this with a woman? She’d told him she hadn’t been with a man in nearly as long. She’d been a little timid at first, but she soon lost herself in their lovemaking. God, he never thought he would feel like this again. Diane’s soft skin welcomed his touch, and he admired that her body had remained in excellent shape, with firm breasts and a tight stomach. His cock stirred as he gazed at her. He wanted her again. She moved into his touch with a soft sigh. Opening her eyes, searching for him, she found his face, and reached to touch it tenderly. “Oh, your driver! Is he still outside waiting?” She sat up, fully awake, clutching the sheet to her breasts.

“No, I sent him home two hours ago, while you were sleeping. I told him I’d call for him in the morning.” His hand now pressed more firmly on her skin as he stroked her arm. “It’s all right if I stay until morning, isn’t it?” She smiled at him. “Stay forever.” Jonathan lowered himself to her and kissed her. Her arms went around him and she held him. He would never forget how she’d made love to him, how she’d cried out as she came, and how they’d held each other tightly until both fell asleep. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Diane.” “Perhaps not. Stay till the morning, then.” He moved his body on top of hers, and she spread her legs to welcome him. Warm wet sheathed his cock, and he knew he’d never tire of this or of her. She shuddered as he plunged inside her, moving with purpose and skill as he took her from awake and eager to limp and satisfied. She cried out his name, clutching his neck, her body arching toward his, and once her spasms ceased, he let himself fall over the cliff to join her.

***

Diane woke in the morning and watched her lover sleep. He’d been so tender with her, so loving, but also, very much in control. He’d let her know he wanted her, and made every effort to please her before himself. And he did please her, several times. She pushed up on her side, one arm supporting her head, and looked closer at the scars on his left shoulder. There were several. One large jagged one, where the shrapnel had hit him; it was irregular, his skin dimpled. The other scars must have been from the surgeries to repair his shoulder; they were neat and straight. She reached out and traced them gently. He stirred at her touch, and his eyes opened halfway. She smiled, and then leaned over to kiss his shoulder. Her kisses moved down to the scars, and she kissed each of them. He shifted under her and caressed her hair. She opened her mouth, traced the scars with her tongue, and he moaned softly. Kissing him across his chest, up his shoulder to his neck, she worked her way to his face. His eyes were wide open now, and she saw the hunger in them. She smiled, realizing he wanted her again. They’d made love twice before. Would he make good his gaze’s promise and take her again? Jonathan took her by the shoulders and rolled on top of her. He caressed her breasts, plucked at each hard nipple, then took each one in his mouth, bathing them with his tongue. A tremor of pleasure raced

from her breasts to her core as he covered her body with his, clear intent burning in his gaze, and the hard length of him pressed against her belly. Oh, yes, he would fulfill his promise.

*** Brett finished dressing and went down the stairs, still braiding her hair. She stopped in the library and pulled open a drawer in the desk, searching for the cards. She found the deck and then turned to discover where the rack of chips had been put. She spotted it on a shelf of one of the bookcases and picked it up. Out in the foyer, she placed her items in a tote bag and checked herself in the mirror one last time. She was going to the duke’s to teach him to play poker, an Old Earth betting card game, and she wanted to look just right. She wore a dark blue midcalf dress, belted at the waist with a full skirt, and a soft scoop neck top with three-quarter length sleeves. She had forgone the boots today, and wore a pair of soft leather slippers. She was getting used to them. They no longer hurt her feet, and her ankles no longer missed the support of the boots. She hadn’t seen her father at breakfast, but assumed he either had been sleeping late or had

gotten up and out early to the embassy. She’d eaten alone and then gone to her room to get dressed. She received a call from Stephen, wishing her a good morning and asking if he could see her today. She and Stephen had spoken every day on the console since they met; in the morning he would call and wake her, and in the evening she would wish him goodnight. In between those hellos and goodbyes they talked about their future together. She reminded him about her lunch date with the duke. Stephen told her he had to work at home on his mystery, but he suggested he might catch up to them later. They said good-bye and touched their fingers to the screen in a caress neither could feel, but both still needed. “James, bring the car around for me, please,” she asked their man, who was standing in the foyer, and he nodded. He spoke into a commlink briefly and then opened the door for her. The car pulled up, and she skipped down the steps with her tote bag in hand and got in the back. The vehicle pulled off, and she sat back thinking about when she could see Stephen again. The car stopped in front of Brandon House, pulling Brett out of her thoughts. She got out, told the driver she’d call when she needed him, and, out of habit, scanned the street. Only a man on the other side, walking down the block, away from her.

She climbed the stairs and rang the bell. The duke’s man answered the door, welcomed her to Brandon House, and escorted her to the library. “Brett, my child, come in, come in!” Duke Brandon stood when she entered and came around his desk to welcome her. He took her hands and held them out, surveying her. “You look wonderful, my dear. Have you been seeing that boy of mine?” “Yes, my duke, I have, and I hope to see him again later today, if he can free himself from his work.” They sat on a couch, and she put the bag down next to her feet. “Working hard? Stephen? Are you sure you have the right man?” He winked at her and grinned. “Absolutely. You must start taking him seriously. I’m not sure he lets you know how involved he is with his work.” She became serious and sat back. “He’s working on a real mystery right now. He won’t tell me much about it.” She ran her hands over her skirt to straighten it. “Indeed.” Duke Brandon sat back and regarded her. “I do take him seriously, sometimes. Probably not as much as I should, though, you’re right. What’s this big mystery all about, do you know?” “He wouldn’t say much, but I got the feeling he may be in over his head. It seems to touch on an area

not necessarily in his provenance and with someone very high ranking.” The duke rubbed his chin. “Perhaps I should speak to him?” Brett smiled and sat up. “That might just help, give him someone to bounce it off of and get some feedback. But don’t tell him I told you, please.” She felt a brief stab of guilt, unsure if she had told too much. “Well, I have my own mystery, my dear.” His eyes lit up as he spoke. “Oh no, not you too! And I suppose you aren’t going to tell me much about it, just like your grandson.” She put her hands on her hips and laughed. “You two are so alike, do you see it, I wonder. Both of you are too clever for your own good.” “Well, my mystery is top secret too, so no, I can’t tell you, but I have been working on it for several days now, and I think I have finally figured it out.” He folded his arms and looked pleased. “Give me a hint, at least, now that you’ve gotten my curiosity up.” “All I can say is it has to do with a weapon.” He grinned at her, clearly enjoying their game. Brett’s face changed slowly, from a wide smile to a very serious frown.

The duke leaned forward, frowning, and touched her knee. “What’s the matter, my dear? Did I say something wrong?” “No, it just struck me as a strange coincidence that Stephen’s mystery concerns a weapon also.” She looked at him, as her mood turned serious. “Don’t be silly, it would be nearly impossible for it to be the same thing.” She shook off the feeling the old duke was wrong as they both stood. “Let’s go to lunch, and we can talk about it later.” He took her arm in hers and they headed out to the foyer. “Shall I call for the car, sir?” Blalock stood at the door and waited. “No, it’s such a nice day, I feel up to a walk. The little place I want to take you is just about five blocks away, my dear. Are you up to it?” He paused at the top of the stairs. “It sounds just fine, sir, let’s go.” They headed off down the street, arm in arm, and talking animatedly to each other.

***

The man standing in the shadows across the street from the duke’s house had been there all morning. He’d watched one of the servant girls come out and go down the street, probably to the market, and when she returned carrying two bags, the door had been opened by one of the duke’s men. He estimated there were at least five people, including the duke, in the house right now. Too many to make a clean snatch and far too many to even do a good burgle. He would have to wait for a better opportunity, thinking it would take all day, perhaps all night. But his luck had changed. A big official car had pulled to a stop at the house. The door opened, and a young woman got out. She was very attractive, and he stared at her, sizing her up as she climbed the steps and rang the bell. The door had opened almost instantly, and she stepped in. Now she’d done his work for him. Even more luck. She and the duke came down the steps, arm in arm, and headed down the street on foot. The man in the shadows waited until they were a block away, stepped into the sunlight, and followed them. He smiled, still not believing his good luck. The duke out of his house, on his own, and with someone he obviously cared for, to boot.

He matched his speed to theirs but kept his distance.

Chapter Seventeen Stephen sat at his console and ran the message piece again. He had finally tracked down the rest of the message on the SatCent satellite sitting at the point in space where the gravity of the planet Century IV held it at bay. After running simulations on four of the satellites of the system, he’d found what he’d been looking for at Century IV. As each of the satellite’s buffers emptied, he watched as the transmissions were tracked by their blue lights, either to downside or passed on to the next satellite. At last he’d found the matching encoding on a message in the buffer. Now the hard part was to delve into the satellite’s computer and retrieve from its memory a copy of the complete transmission. After a quick search through the files he finally found the errant message. Stephen stood and stretched, rolled his shoulders, and then sat back down. He studied the copy; it was missing his buffer piece, and when he attached it, the message was complete. Now all he had to do was finish decoding the rest of the message. That would only take time; he had the first piece cracked easily. The message would

tell him from where it was sent, the exact console it was received at, and who had sent it. After several hours of decoding, he put the final transmutation into place. As the message opened he cried out, “Got it!” He tapped at the keys and began to read the message. “Shit.” It came out as a low, soft hiss. It all fell into place. How do you bring illegal items in and out of secured space? All exports were checked prior to departure here on New Commonwealth and then inspected again before they entered the space around the planet they were bound for by that planet’s import inspectors. Inspectors docked with every ship carrying cargo and ran an inspection to see if the manifests matched. Two checks to get around. If they were really looking hard, they’d make you open a few containers to prove it. You could smuggle them on an unlicensed transport and hope to evade the inspectors, landing somewhere undetected on the planet’s surface, but that was extremely difficult. All space traffic was monitored closely. You could bribe a shipping official and have them shipped under false names. That was good only on one end. If you had a contact on both ends, you could doctor the manifests and pass them through. However, there was still a risk that you’d be caught. People always talked, there were surprise

inspections, and there were leaks. This was too important to risk that method, he felt. How could you insure they wouldn’t be stopped, boarded, and searched? No ship was above the law, except an official courier ship. They had diplomatic immunity. Stopping one could lead to an interplanetary situation, not wanted in the already fragile peace between planets. Courier ships were small, not meant to carry a large amount of cargo. However, over the course of time, a small bundle at a time, it could be done. If someone had the patience, it was perfect. Stephen couldn’t think of any force other than that planet’s own military that had the right to stop a courier ship. You could start an interplanetary war over something like that. He rubbed his face with his hands and reread the message. The courier would carry the diplomatic pouch to and from the embassy. In the pouch would be the schematics for the weapon, smuggled off-planet to Century IV. Also, the ship would carry some small amount of the fuel for the weapon. His message was only a week old. How long had they been working on this? How many shipments had already been made? And when were the schematics going to be sent? Stephen was sure he might never know the answers to his questions, unless he found the sender.

By breaking the encoding, he found out where it was coming from, and where it was bound, but not the specific who. The message had been sent from the Century IV embassy on New Commonwealth to the embassy on Century IV. Finding the exact person this came from and who it went to would be difficult; Stephen didn’t have the security clearance for that. He’d have to get that first, and then identify the console it was sent to. Putting a trace on the console would be the easy part. He could hack in and leave a duplicating program on the console. When a transmission was made from that console, it would also send a duplicate to him, without anyone knowing. He would receive a complete record of every transmission from that console, enough evidence he hoped to convince anyone that steps should be taken. The two planets had been allies in the last Ottoman War and were currently trading partners with an open exchange of people and goods. It was obvious why they wanted to build it here; Century IV didn’t have the technology for it. They would have to smuggle all the equipment and supplies to R & D the weapon, build it, or several of them, and create the fuel for it, from New Commonwealth, to be used on Century IV. But why would they build this weapon, and who were they planning to use it on?

*** Jonathan dressed as Diane cleared away the remains of their late breakfast. They’d eaten at the small table in her bedroom, she wrapped in her robe, he in a large towel wrapped around his waist. Jonathan had eaten ravenously, and Diane merely nibbled on some toast and bacon. After eating, he’d dressed slowly. He didn’t put on his jacket and left his shirt out of his dress pants, opting for a more casual look. His shirt was unbuttoned at the throat and his sleeves were turned up. Even dressed this way and unshaven, he looked very handsome. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and nuzzled the back of her neck. She leaned into him and put her arms over his and hugged him back. “I don’t want to go,” he said simply. “But you need to go home,” she answered back. “Yes, I need to go home.” He sighed and held her, still not releasing her. She enjoyed it for a moment and then dropped her arms. He slowly released her and stood back. She turned to him and smiled. “What do we do now? I’ve been quite compromised.” Her voice teased as her gaze searched

his. He touched her face with his hand, and his mouth set. “I suppose you’ll just have to marry me.” He put his hand under her chin and raised her head up toward his. “Why Ambassador Butler, I hardly know you.” She laughed. The man was mad, wasn’t he? “And I hardly know you, but what I do know is that no one, not since Elaine, has made me feel the way you do. Made me want to love again.” He kissed her, making her knees weak and her heart pound. “Don’t you feel it? This power between us?” Another nip to her lips and she’d give in. “Yes, I feel it, but why does it mean marriage?” She’d been on her own for so long, never dreaming this would come her way. “Why not? As you said, we can’t just be lovers; it’s too much of a scandal here.” He tightened his grip on her. “And I’m already addicted to you. Being without you is not an option.” “What would the children say?” “I have a feeling they’d both be happy for us.” He pulled away, frowning. “But I’m trying too hard, aren’t I?” He strode over to the door. “Forgive me; I presumed too much.” Diane’s heart caught in her throat. He’d leave, walk out the door, and the sense of loss hit her hard

in the stomach. In that moment she didn’t care what anyone said or thought. “Your presumption was correct. There is something wonderful between us, and I don’t want to lose it. I haven’t felt like this in long years. Don’t go.” She rushed to the door and leaned against it, looking up into his face. “Ask me again.” He gazed down into her eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Will you marry me?” “Yes, I think I will.” She smiled softly. Happiness broke over his face; then he leaned in and kissed her. He slipped his hand under her robe and claimed her breast, as his tongue claimed her mouth, and she melted into him. “Make whatever arrangements you want, Diane. I’m at your command.” He stepped away, and she opened the door and let him out. Lady Diane Brandon pulled her robe around her and turned back to her bedroom. Her maid stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes wide and mouth open. Their gazes met and Diane smiled shyly. Her maid smiled, placed her finger to her lips signaling her silence, and went back into the kitchen. “Hold my calls for the rest of the morning, Marta,” Diane called out to the maid and hurried into her bedroom and closed the door. She flung herself on the bed, snatched up a pillow, and screamed into

it, kicking her feet as if she were a schoolgirl with a crush. It was terribly undignified, acting this way. It was all Jonathan’s fault for making her feel this way again.

*** Brett and the duke strolled down the street for three blocks, then turned, and headed north. The restaurant was located on this street, only two blocks away. As they walked, she tried to explain the basic rules of poker. He caught on quickly, but there was no better way to know if you understood than playing a game. They decided that they would enlist Blalock into their fold to fill out the table. Brett suggested the driver be brought in to make a foursome when they passed a small shop. Brett stopped and looked into the window. It was filled with all sorts of different cigars. “Duke, do you know if Stephen smokes cigars?” she asked. “As a matter of fact, he does, or he used to at one time. I remember him going through a phase, I believe, and smoking something. Perhaps it was a pipe, but I do think I remember it being cigars,

because he would try to cage some of mine.” The duke stepped inside, and she followed. The store was larger than it looked, going very far back into the building. At the very end was a large glassed-in room that held most of the cigars. They asked the sales clerk about the cigars, and as they were getting a lecture, Brett heard the shop door open, and she briefly looked up. A nondescript man entered and looked around. He stayed at the front of the shop, looking at merchandise in a glass counter, occasionally looking back at them. She took notice of him and filed it away, an old security habit of hers, and then focused back on the sales clerk and the suggestions he made. She picked out six different cigars for Stephen to try, and the clerk took them to the front to wrap them up. The other man slipped out of the door without speaking to the clerk and walked away. Brett, her small package in hand, and the duke left the shop and reached the café. It was charming, with a seating area outside on the wide walkway. The tables were topped by multicolored umbrellas and covered in matching tablecloths. They asked for an outside table and were led to one near the window of the restaurant. They could see inside the restaurant and still enjoy the lovely day. As Brett and the duke poured over the menu, the man she noticed from the cigar

shop took a table inside the café. Brett watched him sit down through the glass window and frowned. “What’s that frown about, Brett?” the duke asked. “Not happy with the menu? We could try another place, if you wish.” “Not at all. You’ll think I’m being silly, but it’s just that I noticed the man from the cigar shop took a table inside. It’s probably nothing, just a coincidence.” “Well, this is a very popular place in this neighborhood.” The old man shrugged. “Of course, that’s it.” She smiled and turned her attention back to their conversation. They ate their lunch and chatted about the wedding. The duke embarrassed her with personal questions about she and Stephen, and she teased him back. Brett had become very fond of the old gentleman and wished she could give him what he was longing for, the precious great-grandchildren he’d spoken about. He wanted them to start their family right away and told her he expected her to be pregnant soon after the wedding. She countered that they wanted to enjoy being together without her hugely pregnant or having screaming babies pulling at them. In the end, she promised to begin trying to start their family at the end of their first year of marriage. It was not a big

concession; she and Stephen had already talked about it, but she let the duke think he had won. Then there was the number of children to be discussed, and they argued back and forth over whether it would be three or four. The duke of course tried to lobby her for two boys, two girls, and suggested she use one of the many methods to insure the sex of the baby. She promised him, as she had promised Stephen, the first would be a son. Duke Brandon beamed at her, and it touched her when he took her hand and brought it to his lips and kissed it. The duke paid the bill and they left, retracing the way they had come. Brett and the duke walked two blocks and stood at the corner waiting for the light to signal them to cross. They were so lost in their conversation, Brett didn’t realize until that moment she’d left her package of cigars on the table. “Oh, damn! The cigars!” Brett huffed. “I should go back for them.” The old duke nodded, and they turned back toward the restaurant. Just as they started across the street, a large car stopped, blocking their way. They tried to go around it, but without warning, a man stood behind them, trapping them between the car and himself. “Don’t say anything or do anything, just get in the car.”

Brett spun around and saw the Taser the man held pointed at the duke. It was the man from the cigar shop. She mentally kicked herself for ignoring all her instincts and swore she wouldn’t let that happen again. If there was a next time, and by the hard cold look in the man’s eyes, there might not be. “What the hell is going on?” The duke tried to resist, but the man opened the door and pushed the Taser into the back of Brett’s head. “A head shot will kill at this close range.” The duke nodded, and he and Brett climbed into the back of the car, with the man climbing in beside them. Brett’s mind started churning. This was a snatch, no doubt about it, but which of them was the target and why? The man had been following them all along, just waiting for his chance. He had an accomplice, the large man driving the car. The car windows mirrored, and they took off.

*** The waiter from the restaurant ran down the street, cigars in hand, but he saw them get into the back of the car that stopped for them and gave up. He stopped, bent over to catch his breath, and then turned around and headed back to the café. When he

arrived, he went to the back and spoke to the manager, who assured him as soon as the people realized they had left the package they would call and claim it. The manager put it in his drawer for safekeeping.

*** The man with the Taser tossed them two handkerchiefs. “Put those on.” The duke fumbled with his, and the man roughly turned him and tied it on. Brett tied hers on, and the man checked to see if they were tight. “Put your hands out,” he commanded. They extended their arms, and the man first tied Brett’s hands at the wrist with plasicote binders, and then secured the duke. After tugging on the binders to check them he said, “Now, don’t say a word until I tell you.” Then he settled back into the seat and remained quiet. Brett tried to keep track of where they turned, but they drove for a long time and made so many turns she gave up. Eventually they slowed down, and she heard a garage door open, and the car entered and headed down. Underground parking. Were they still in the city? What is this about? She wished she could

talk to the duke, to find out what he knew. She was pretty sure this wasn’t about her, but it could be about her father. This could be an attempt to get to him through her. That was bad enough, but to drag an old man into this mess really pissed her off. And pissing off a former United Earth Marine was not smart.

The duke pressed back into the seat, his mind racing to the only conclusion he could come to…the disk. It had to be the disk. Nothing he had been involved with of late would rate this type of action, except the antimatter weapon. Now that was getyourself-killed stuff. Damn, why did they have to drag Brett into this? He silently prayed for Stephen to forgive him for involving Brett in whatever this was, and he prayed for God to keep anything from happened to her. The door to the car opened, and they were pulled out. Their footsteps echoed on the concrete of the garage. The driver took the duke, and the other man took Brett and led them to a door. She heard it open, and then they were told to watch it, because they had to go down some steps. She counted the steps, fourteen in all, and then they walked down a narrow hall. Her shoulders brushed the sides, and another door opened, and she

and the duke were pushed into a room. She knew it was large from the echoing steps, and because she counted twenty steps to walk across it to another door. The door creaked open; they were herded through it and into a smaller room. Their captors yanked off the blindfolds, and Brett blinked as she tried to refocus her vision. Two chairs sat under a halogen bulb fixed to the ceiling, but other than that, the room was empty. Next to her, the duke blinked and rubbed his cuffed hands over his eyes. Other than being a bit disorientated, he appeared fine. The larger man dragged a chair to the side and motioned for the duke to sit. He took his seat, and the man tied him to the chair using plastic cording. The smaller man motioned with the Taser for Brett to sit in the other chair; she did and he tied her into it as her mind raced to figure a way out of this. But as long as she was bound, and the man had a weapon, and the duke was in danger, there was nothing she could do. Perhaps the opportunity would come, and when it did, she swore she’d be ready to do whatever it took to get them free. Their chairs faced each other across perhaps ten feet. Brett and the duke looked at each other, trying to read minds, but the guilty look on the duke’s face told Brett that he knew why they were there after all.

Neither of them had been gagged, so Brett guessed the men wanted them to talk. She took a deep breath, trying to strain against the ropes unnoticed, but they were tight. They hadn’t secured her feet, or the duke’s, so she put that advantage away for later use. These guys were careless and had underestimated their captives. An amateur mistake. “Now, Duke Brandon, we need to talk,” the smaller man said. He turned to the larger man and shrugged. “What do you think? He looks kind of frail. Can you work him?” The larger man walked around the duke, assessing him, and then shook his head. “No, I can definitely break him too easily.” He turned to Brett. “It’ll have to be her.” His expression, a sort of longing, made Brett’s stomach roll. The bastard was going to enjoy this. The smaller man snorted. “You wanted to do her anyway, didn’t you?” The larger man just continued staring at Brett and grinned. Brett shivered. “What are you going to use on her?” The other man had moved to lean against the wall, positioning himself between Brett and the duke. The large man walked slowly around her. “I’ll save the knife for later. For now, just my hands.” For the first time, she noticed he wore gloves, and now he slowly pulled them off, exposing large,

rough-looking hands, with odd black markings on the backs of them. What was going to happen crystallized in Brett’s mind; he was going to beat her to make the duke tell them something. She looked at the duke, who must have come to the same conclusion. His skin color paled, as if he gained years just thinking of what they would do. She smiled at him to reassure him, but it only made it worse. His mouth twitched down, and his shoulders slumped. “Now old man, you can tell us now without too much pain for this young lady, or you can watch while he”—he jerked his thumb at the large man— “has his fun. Where is the disk Rogers gave you?” The large man moved into position in front of Brett, and she watched as his hands opened and closed in anticipation and steeled herself. The duke swallowed, and said, his voice shaking, “I don’t know what you are talking about, Rogers didn’t give me anything.” The man nodded once, and the large man lifted his hand and backhanded Brett across the face. Even though she’d braced for it, it was a hard blow, but nothing broke. Her face stung, her cheek throbbed, and Brett knew this guy was good, just the right amount of force for the optimum amount of hurt. A beating like this could go on for a long time,

far longer than any Commonwealth woman could take. But she wasn’t a Commonwealth woman, was she? Something inside her clicked; she dug down deep and found Major Butler of the United Earth Marines. She could do this standing on her head, she told herself. In fact, she remembered wryly, this was nothing compared to boot camp. After the second week of predawn musters on the tarmac in full pack gear this would be a walk in the park. At least her entire body didn’t hurt. And she wasn’t standing in the rain. She closed her eyes and could see drill Sgt. Berg. They used to call him “Ice Berg” because he was a cold bastard, and could sink you right out of the program. He would walk the line, sharp as a tack, all six foot six of him, 260 pounds of muscle and bone, and then get in your face for any perceived infraction. Her mind’s ear heard his voice, deep and accented, “You eyeballin’ me, girl?” and her barked response of “Sir, no, sir!” She’d learned damn quick how to stare straight ahead, no emotion showing. The worse had been the women who broke, sobbing and falling to the ground weak-kneed. They had been hard to drown out, but she did it.

She couldn’t fail; she was the general’s daughter. Berg rode her harder because of it; she knew it, and so did the others. Her turn out had to be slightly better than the others, her back straighter, her cap just right, more shine on her boots, her hair with never a loose strand, her bunk flawless, her responses quicker, everything just a hair better than anyone else. She had learned to refocus and to drown out Berg’s ranting. She remained silent and stared straight ahead. The duke’s mouth quivered, and she watched the tears fill his eyes. “If this is important, don’t tell them, sir.” She spoke quickly, not taking her eyes off the duke. He nodded slightly. The large man struck her again. “I didn’t tell you to talk, bitch.” Her head rocked back, and once more she focused on the wall behind the duke.

Chapter Eighteen Jonathan had showered, dressed, and returned downstairs to the library. He sat at the console and checked his messages. There was one from Stephen for Brett, and several for himself. He went through those, sending replies where needed, and holding some for later. James entered. “Lunch, sir?” “Is Brett joining me?” “No, sir, she is having lunch today with Duke Brandon.” Jonathan raised his eyebrows, and James continued, “She is teaching him poker, I believe.” He laughed. “I hope the duke has lots of money, James. Brett is hard to beat. Her bluff is classic. I’ll eat in here; I have lots of work to do this afternoon.” “Very good, sir. Sir, do you want me to order flowers for Lady Brandon?” James stood at the door, his expression bland. There was no need for a conversation about what had happened. James knew he’d returned from the dinner that morning, knew the condition of his suit, and he probably even knew word for word what Jonathan had told the driver. He looked up and smiled. “Yes, one dozen yellow roses, please, James. Address the card,” he paused

thinking of what he wanted to say, and what he felt comfortable saying in front of James. “I love you” was what he wanted to say, but instead he chose, “Yours, Jonathan.” “Very good, sir.” James left the room to take care of the order and see to lunch.

*** Stephen stretched, looked up, and checked the time. After 1700. He still needed to finish this; there would be no time to see Brett. He paused, reached for the commlink, and punched in the duke’s number. Blalock answered the call, “Brandon House.” “Blalock, is the duke there?” “No, sir, he went out with Miss Butler around 1100. and hasn’t returned yet.” Stephen detected a note of worry in the man’s usually ever-calm voice. “Not back yet? It’s been five hours. Where were they going?” “Just to the little café, not five blocks from here, sir.” He paused, and then it all spilled out in a rush. “Lord Stephen, I’m getting worried. There’s been no call, even to explain the delay. They planned to return

right after lunch and play cards.” His brows looked wrinkled with concern. “Right. Call the café and find out what you can. I’ll try the ambassador to see if perhaps they went there instead. I’ll call you back in a minute or two.” He cut the call and punched in Brett’s numbers. “Ambassador Butler’s residence,” James answered. “Is Brett or Duke Brandon there?” Stephen asked quickly. “No, sir, she left to go to the duke’s around ten forty-five this morning. You could try her there,” James suggested. For a brief moment, Stephen wondered if he should pass on his concern. “Is Ambassador Butler in?” “Yes, I’ll put you through.” The screen grayed out. “Stephen, good afternoon!” Butler seemed happy to see him. “Sir, I’m afraid there might be a problem. We can’t seem to locate Brett or the duke. They went to lunch over five hours ago and haven’t been heard from since. I’m beginning to worry.” Stephen was more than worried; he was getting scared. “Five hours? Maybe they went to the stables? But there was no call?”

“No, sir, that’s why I’m concerned. They were to come back to the duke’s to play cards. No one has heard from them.” “That is strange. I’ll call the stables and check.” “I’m going to my grandfather’s and see what I can find out. Reach me there.” Stephen cut the commlink and hurriedly closed his files and left.

*** Brett tasted blood this time, and she explored the inside of her mouth with her tongue. Yes, cut on a tooth, the inside of her cheek bled well. It had to happen, this was at least the tenth time he’d hit her. She turned her head and spit the blood onto the floor to clear her mouth. One look at the duke’s face and she realized she shouldn’t have done that; she should have swallowed the blood. The duke choked, and for the first time tears leaked from his tired eyes. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. The bitch must be used to being hit.” The man turned to the duke. “You slap her around? Like it rough, do you?” Duke Brandon gritted his teeth and said, “You bastard. Let her alone.” “Tell us where the disk is, and we’ll let you go.”

The duke’s gaze met Brett’s, and she saw him waver. “Don’t do it, sir, they’ll kill us both as soon as you tell.” The man turned and raised his hand, but the other stopped him. “Wait! Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way.” He stood back and folded his arms, thinking. “She’s your granddaughter?” “To be,” The duke answered warily. “Going to marry your grandson, eh?” He looked pleased. Brett didn’t like the way he sounded either. “Yes, definitely the wrong way.” He walked over to Brett, grabbed her by her long braid and yanked her head back. She muffled a cry of pain. The light fell on her face, showing the duke the bruises, the clever bastards. Her right eye had to be black and blue, her cheek bruised also, and her tongue felt the small split on her bottom lip. The man stood behind her and with the other hand ran it down her throat in a caress as Brett suppressed a shudder, but the duke’s flinch gave him away. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she, Hugo?” It was the first time he had used a name. They were getting sloppy in their rush to get the info. Hugo nodded, licked his lips, and ran his hand over her throat and down to her breast to fondle her. Brett continued to stare straight ahead letting no emotion betray her thoughts.

The first time the man had touched her throat she had decided she would kill him. Now she knew she would kill them both. She would get her opportunity when they untied her to rape her. “Untie her, Hugo.” He grinned at the duke, who had just turned a shade paler. As he realized what they were going to do he gasped for air. “Of course, all you need to do is tell us where the disk is and we can avoid all this unpleasantness.” His voice tried to sound reassuring but only came off smarmy. “They’ll do it anyway, sir, don’t tell,” Brett spoke quietly, her voice flat. The duke remained silent, but his gaze darted between her and the man as he untied her from the chair. Hugo jerked her to her feet. He reached behind him and pulled out a knife, about six inches long and shiny. He showed it to her and grinned. “Hugo is going to take her into the next room,” he told the duke. He walked to Hugo, grabbed Brett by the arm, and went to the door. In a lowered voice he said, “Take your time and make sure she makes a lot of noise. It’ll convince him to talk.” “How long do I have to wait?” The big man practically drooled in anticipation. “I’ll knock on the door when he breaks, then you can fuck her. But don’t kill her, I want a turn.” He gave Brett a leer, leaned over, and slowly licked his lips. “Don’t cut her either, I want her pretty.” Hugo

grabbed Brett, opened the door, and pushed her inside. She stumbled forward, then spun around to see the duke. She had to let him know she’d be all right. The man turned back to the duke and shrugged. “Who knows how long he can hold off? He hasn’t fucked anyone in weeks.” The duke wept, and a small sob escaped his throat. “Don’t tell them anything, sir!” Brett shouted just before the door slammed shut.

*** Stephen took the steps two at a time, and Blalock opened the door before he could ring the bell. “Any word?” Blalock shook his head. “Did you call the café?” Stephen wanted to shake someone, anyone. “Yes. They arrived, ate, and left after about an hour. The manager said they’d left a package, and that the waiter had tried to catch up to them but saw them get into a large black car with another man. They drove off before he could reach them. He still has the package. That puts it a little after noon. It’s almost four hours with no contact.”

Stephen went into the library and sat at the desk. He looked at the console and quickly scanned the incoming messages. He’d thought on the way over that if it was a kidnapping for ransom, either Butler or the duke should have received some sort of note. There wasn’t anything like that waiting in the mail and Butler hadn’t had any either. He was sure if they had changed their plans they would have called someone. They certainly hadn’t mentioned meeting anyone. This was not a willing change of their plans, he wagered. He took a breath and opened his grandfather’s files. If they had wanted to snatch Brett, they could have easily pushed the old man out of the way and taken her. It had to be the duke; perhaps he was working on something for headquarters. They brought him problems every now and then. But why take Brett, what did they need her for? She could have been left behind too. But leaving one or the other would have raised the alarm a lot sooner. Four hours had passed before they had been missed. “Blalock, was granddad working on anything lately?” He sat back as he ran his fingers through his hair instead of pulling it out, like he wanted to. “Well, he has been spending a lot of time at his desk, and I came in one time and he was looking at a holo of some sort of device. He switched it off as soon

as he noticed me.” Blalock gave him a wry smile. “Top secret, I suppose.” “A device, you say?” Stephen punched up some files, and started to search. After ten minutes, he sang out, “Got it! Now, let’s see what we have.” He hit a few keys and the holo started. A device slowly rotated in the air above the console. Stephen read the files and then opened one labeled Conclusions. The duke was thorough, if anything. Stephen scanned the file and whistled softly. “This is it, Blalock.” He put a disk into the console and downloaded all the data onto it. Then he ejected it and slipped it into his pocket. With this data added to his own, he had the proof he needed to get someone to take some action. If his suspicions were right, and he hoped not, whoever had taken both Brett and the duke did so in order to get this info back. But it had been five hours. What did that tell him? They hadn’t talked yet, for one. If they had, someone would be here trying to retrieve this data, and Brett and his grandfather would probably be dead. “Old man, what did you step in this time?” Stephen muttered.

He had to call Butler and lay it out for him. He deserved to know what Stephen suspected; after all, Brett was involved.

*** Brett stood in the center of the room and watched Hugo as he walked around her. His breath came heavy, and he held the knife loosely in his hand. Finally, he stopped in front of her and licked his lips. “Take off your panties,” he ordered. She bent over, reached under her long skirt, fumbling with her tied hands, and pulled off her panties, then clutched them in front of her. Hugo reached over, grabbed them from her, and raised the material to his face. Brett never took her eyes off him, waiting for her chance. He was big, yes, but he was stupid, and even more to her advantage, he was caught up in the thrill and anticipation of sex. Still holding the knife, he slowly unzipped his trousers. They didn’t fall down; he hadn’t released the clasp that held them closed. As he began to rub himself with her panties, she almost looked away in disgust, but she had to wait for her chance. She would only get one.

Hugo rubbed harder, and then he moaned and closed his eyes. This was it, and she had to make it good. In one spinning motion, her roundhouse kick landed in his crotch. He went down on his knees, and the knife flew from his hands as he grabbed his damaged manhood and doubled over. She clasped her hands together for added strength and swung, catching him under the chin and snapping his head back. The large man fell over backward, but twisted and crawled toward the knife. Brett raced to it as it lay on the floor three feet away, beating him to it. She picked it up, her hands still bound together, but he grabbed her leg and jerked her to the ground. “Bitch!” His hand clamped harder as his fingers dug into her skin. She twisted around and buried the knife in his chest. He trembled, then collapsed as his body emptied its lifeblood in an ever-growing dark pool on the floor. After pulling out the knife, she wiped it on his shirt, cut her own bonds, and then stood and went to the door. Brett opened the door a slit and listened. The smaller guy spoke to the duke, laying out in graphic detail what his friend would do to Brett. It broke her heart to hear the sobs the old duke made as he

promised to tell where the disk was if the man would just not hurt her. They had finally used her to break him, and a wave of fury washed over her. The duke had been devastated about what he thought was happening in the other room. Even he’d underestimated her. She quietly slipped through the door, holding the knife in the folds of her skirt, and crept forward. The man stood in front of the duke, arms crossed, waiting for him to tell about the disk. He promised the old man he could still stop Hugo. Brett crept up behind him. The look of shock on the Duke’s face nearly gave her away. The man started, but she plunged the knife into his back, and he fell like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes frozen wide open and mouth in an “O” of surprise. She straddled the body, retrieved the knife, and slipped around the chair to cut the duke’s cords with the knife. Shaking badly, he needed help to stand. Once upright and steady, he pulled her into his arms and wept. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Brett. So sorry. I never thought…” he sobbed. Brett held the old man tight for a moment, and then she pulled away and looked deep into his eyes. “You didn’t really think I would let any man but Stephen touch me, did you?”

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and pulled himself together as he rubbed his wrists. “I forgot who you are,” he whispered. “I’ll never make that mistake again, my dear.” “Let’s get out of here.” He nodded and then reached down to the dead man, retrieved the Taser, and offered it to her. “No, I have the knife. You keep it, and use it if you have to.” She slipped the knife into her belt, and they went to the door. She opened it slowly and checked the room. As she led the duke through the room, he glanced briefly at Hugo’s body lying in a pool of blood, and flinched for a moment at what Hugo still clutched in his dead hand. He didn’t speak, but followed her to the next door. Brett cracked the door and listened with her good ear. Then she opened it enough to peer out. The stairs they had come down stood to the left. The other way led down the hall to other doors and a dead end. Up the stairs it was.

Chapter Nineteen Jonathan arrived at Brandon House, and Blalock led him immediately to the library. Stephen sat at the console, speaking to someone. Jonathan stood silently in front of the desk and waited. “I’m sending you the data now, and I want you to authorize me to the next security level. I can’t get the name of the man at the top of this; he’s too highly placed, I suspect. It’s a matter of life and death, sir.” “Brandon, you’d better be right about this.” There was a pause as the man on the console scanned the incoming data. “Goddamn, Brandon, antimatter weapons?” He continued to read the documents and then tapped in the codes. “When you are ready to move, notify us, and we’ll send reinforcements. Don’t move on your own, Brandon.” “Don’t worry, General, if this is as high up as I think, I’m going to need your men.” He cut the link, and the screen died. “What the hell is going on, Stephen? Where is my daughter?” Jonathan ran his hand through his hair and sat down. Stephen explained what he suspected had happened and what had led to the whole mess. He

explained about his messages from in-space, and about the weapons project his grandfather had worked on in secret. When he finished, Jonathan sat back and clutched the arms of the chair. “Where are they?” Anger, fear, and worry all rolled into a burning ball that sat right in the middle of his belly. He stared at the young man sitting across from him, and realized he’d been thinking of him as a boy. However, this was a man, Brett’s man, his lover’s son, soon to be his son-in-law. And a damn fine investigator. He’d gotten to the core of the events through a mix of research, instinct, skill, and determination. For the first time, Jonathan realized there was more to Stephen than just a husband for his girl, and he knew he could leave her safely in those good hands. If they could get her out of this. “I believe they are being held somewhere. In order for me to find out, I needed this last code. You see, normally, I don’t have clearance for this.” He paused and plunged ahead. “Sir, I suspect one of the ambassadors is involved. Perhaps you can give me some insight as to why.” “Anything you need, son, just ask.” “Tell me about Century IV and their ambassador.”

“Ambassador Pheydor? I always liked him. Very easygoing, gets along well with everyone. He was a businessman before being appointed.” Jonathan thought hard, his hand rubbing his chin. “He told me the other night he planned on retiring soon and going back to private life.” “What about the politics of the planet?” Stephen pressed him. “Well, Century IV is the nearest planet to the Commonwealth. It’s got a good technology base, but not as far along as you are here. It was one of the first colonized planets after New Commonwealth.” He rattled off the basic stuff. “They have a very strong manufacturing base, a well-developed military structure, and a fairly stable economy. However, their position in space made them vulnerable to the last wave of the Ottoman expansion, like New Commonwealth, and they just barely threw them out. New Commonwealth hadn’t been much help in the battle; they were stretched just defending themselves, much less a nearby neighbor.” Jonathan sat back and ran his fingers through his head. “They would perhaps see this as a strategic defense weapon? Or are they thinking of expanding themselves?” “Well, defense, certainly, but expansion?” Jonathan sat up, as he went go over what he knew of their strategy. “They have a very weak agricultural

economy. The planet can’t grow squat, and it’ll be years before their terraforming projects kick in. They have to import almost every scrap of food they eat, most of it from right here. That’s what almost cost them the war. If the Ottoman forces had been smarter, they could have starved them into submission. I would have, if it had been me.” Stephen called up the chart again, comparing the bounce signal to the planets. “Why would Century IV create the weapon here?” Jonathan filled him in. “It has some technology, and has manufacturing plants, so the weapon could be made there, but they don’t have the R&D facilities like you do here. Also, they can’t create antimatter; it would have to be imported first or smuggled in from New Commonwealth, or at least the technology to generate it. I don’t believe your government would just give them the stuff. How much have they already gotten off the planet?” He shrugged. “Depends on how long this has been in the works. If they’re using embassy courier ships, they can’t move much at one time, the ships are too small and they are built for speed, not cargo mass.” “But would their government be agreeable to using such a weapon?” Stephen pressed him. “It would solve a lot of their problems. With the new tariffs being put in place by New

Commonwealth, the cost of importing all their food would either bankrupt them in a few years or destroy their economy. But if they conquered New Commonwealth, they would have everything they need and not have to pay a dime.” “But they have a military as strong as ours, or else they would not be free of the Ottomans. Why do they need the weapon?” Stephen asked. “A good question.” Jonathan sat back and crossed his legs. “You just said it, that they are as strong as you are, not stronger. If you set out to take over, you want to make sure no one comes to the defense of the poor bastard you’ve got your eye on. It’s what I’d do if I were in command. Superior power can avoid many entanglements. One large demonstration of power, say destroy the capitol from space, and the planet would fall in line without another shot being fired. No one would challenge you. Also, if you are the only one with that power, that’s even better. Besides, if you want an aggie world, the last thing you want to do is destroy everything.” The two men sat there staring at each other. Minutes passed and then Stephen slapped his legs and stood. “Let’s go. Do you know where the ambassador lives? Which would be most likely, his house or the embassy?”

“Oh, the embassy, no doubt. Diplomatic immunity. No one would dare enter the embassy. It’s a large building, many offices, underground parking, and lots of places to hide a couple of captives.” They started for the door. “I’ll call for reinforcements once we’ve established they are there.” “How do you plan to do that? Walk up, ring the bell and ask?” Jonathan stopped in the foyer and eyed Stephen, who stopped at the hall console table and pulled open a drawer. He pressed a button on the inside of the drawer and the bottom slid open. He pulled out two Tasers, tossed one to Jonathan, and pocketed his. “I think it’s time for a diplomatic visit, don’t you Ambassador Butler? Let’s go get them.” Stephen’s eyes were hard and set. Jonathan felt a brief wave of pride pass through him. Brett had chosen well.

*** Brett stood at the top of the stairs and cracked open the door. She could see the door to the garage down the short hall. Standing against it was a guard with a stunner. She checked the other way, and there

was an unguarded door, probably leading into the building itself. She closed the door quietly and motioned to the duke. “There’s a guard in the garage. If I remember, there is also a ramp and a garage door we’ll have to go through. If it’s automatic, we won’t be able to raise it. We’d be trapped against it.” She bit her lip. Back down into the basement wasn’t an option; they’d be trapped there. “You’re not thinking of going through the building? We have no idea what we’ll encounter.” Duke Brandon raised his Taser and looked at Brett. “We could stun the guard, drag him in here, and toss him down the steps. Then enter the building and make our way out. I don’t like the odds of being shot down against a garage door. I’d rather take my chances in the building. Lots of hiding places, and there may be less resistance than expected.” The duke nodded reluctantly. Neither of them liked the idea of being stuck in the garage until they were discovered and killed. “I would rather go down in a fair fight any day.” “Right. Let’s go.” Brett opened the door a crack, and the duke aimed and fired. The guard dropped, and they went through the door and together dragged him into the stairwell. Brett took his Taser and put the knife under her belt. With a concerted heave, they rolled him

down the stairs, where he landed in a heap at the bottom. Brett ran back to the garage door and looked through, just to make sure. The ramp slanted up about fifteen feet and she could see the bottom five feet of the garage door. It was solid metal, with no visible way to open it manually. She was right; they’d be trapped if they went that way. “It’s a no-go, sir.” “Right.” He gave her a quick nod and jerked his head toward the other door. She slowly tried the handle, It gave under her hand, and she cracked it open. There was another corridor, this one carpeted and decorated with several fine paintings. It looked to be someone’s home, not a commercial building as she guessed. The hall went for about twenty feet and turned a corner. She showed with a few slashing motions what she wanted the duke to do. He picked up the signal, moved ahead of her to the corner, and waited, Taser raised at his side. Using standard two-man reconnoiter tactics, they both fell into them without thinking. He glanced around the corner and determined it was clear, slid around it, and she moved up to take his place. When he came to a door at the end of the hall, he pressed his ear to it. No sounds, so he signaled for Brett to move up. She took a position next to him, her Taser at the ready. He opened the

door and looked out at the large, well-equipped kitchen. It was empty. They slipped in and took positions at the doors. One door led to an alley, the other back into the house, probably the dining room. Brett motioned for the duke to look up. There was an electronic servant system. Suspended above the door to the house was an elaborate electronic board with the rooms listed and lights above them. If someone in the library wanted something, they would press a button in the room, and the light would come on, telling the waiting servants they were needed. Brett stared at the name on the fourth button from the left. Ambassador Pheydor was spelled out in small readout that glowed white. “This is an embassy, sir.” Brett blew her breath out. As soon as she could she wanted the story from the duke; she was completely sure he knew. He nodded to her and shrugged. They had to make up their minds, the alley or through the building. Brett motioned for him to stay put, and she slipped out the door to the alley and checked it. She came back in and shook her head. There were security lasers crisscrossing the alleyway. No way out that way. The door into the house would have to do. Brett motioned again to the duke, flattened herself against the door, and cracked it open. The

dining room stood empty, but the opening to the foyer was wide, with no door to hide behind. She slipped through, Taser ready, and the duke followed her. They took up positions in the dining room and prepared to move again. So far so good, but in her experience, this was usually where things went wrong. They stepped into the foyer; the front door and freedom just twenty feet away. On the far wall she could see the side of the elaborate staircase that curved up to the second floor. They crept toward the door, hugging the wall, when Brett heard the crackling of a Taser and turned in time to see the duke crumple to the floor. She looked up and faced three men on the upstairs landing, all pointing their weapons at her. Damn, they’d been so close. She dropped her weapon and raised her hands. One of the men came down the stairs, picked up the Taser, then went to the duke and took his, still clutched in his hand. He pulled the knife from her waistband and tucked it into his belt. The man backed off, still holding his weapon on Brett. These men must be guards, but they weren’t wearing any sort of uniforms, like the ones at the Old Earth embassy. Without waiting for permission to move, she rushed to the duke, knelt beside him, and checked his pulse. His breathing was regular and his

pulse was strong; he was just unconscious. She waited for a minute as his eyes fluttered and he slowly regained awareness. He looked up into her eyes and blinked several times. “I’m sorry, Brett.” “Shhh, nothing to be sorry about.” She gave him a smile. “Pick him up and bring them upstairs.” A man on the landing called down to the other man. “Nestor, you go find out why they are loose and what happened to Hugo and Van.” He motioned with his weapon for the man to get going. The remaining man helped her to get the duke to his feet, and then they started to climb the stairs, Brett supporting the duke with the man behind them, Taser pointed at their backs. “I’ll get the ambassador; you put them in the second room on the left. Stay away from them and drop them if they move,” the man on the landing ordered, and then disappeared down the hall and into a room. The guard herded Brett and the duke to the room. It turned out to be a bedroom, unused, and she settled the duke on the bed so he could recover. She sat next to him and held his hand. The man stood with his back against the door, the Taser leveled at her head.

Five minutes later the door opened, knocking the man in the back. He stepped away and the one called Nestor entered. He glared at Brett and the duke. “I don’t know how, but it looks like the old man killed both Hugo and Van,” he growled. She stared at him without blinking, thrilled the blame for the deaths had fallen on the duke and not her. These two would regret their miscalculation of her abilities, just like the others. “Don’t get close to him, Nestor; he’s more dangerous than he looks.” The duke gave them a satisfied grin, crossed his arms, and sat back, playing the role perfectly. The door opened again and a new man entered, dressed in a well-tailored suit, which was hard to pull off, but it covered his round belly well. Brett recognized him immediately. Ambassador Pheydor stood in the doorway, red-faced and furious, his hands clenched and shaking with fury. “You stupid old man!” he spat at the duke. “You almost ruined everything. But you’ve just made things a little more difficult now, that’s all.” Brett didn’t speak, but attended to the duke. He looked better; his eyes had cleared and he had more control of his movements. Not to mention the smug look on his face from the accusations of the ambassador.

The man advanced on her, still shaking, and raised his hand as if to hit her. Brett didn’t flinch. “The last man who hit her is lying dead in your basement,” the duke warned, and the man froze in his tracks. “Tie them up again, and this time, do it right. I don’t know how they got loose, but don’t let it happen again,” he spat out at the others and left. The guard called Nestor left and returned shortly with more cording. He bound them and left the duke stretched out on the bed, then he pushed Brett to the floor next to the bed. Somewhere, below them, she heard a chime, like a clock or perhaps the doorbell to the embassy. If it was the doorbell, that meant someone had arrived, and she might be able to take advantage of the situation. But could she risk the duke again?

Chapter Twenty Diane called Brandon House to speak to the duke. Blalock answered, looking very pale, and his lips strained at a smile. The disappointment when he saw it was her prickled at her. “Sorry to disappoint you, Blalock. What is going on? Is the duke unwell? You seem very upset.” Diane couldn’t help but show her concern for the old retainer. “Oh, milady, there’s terrible things happening!” His composure crumbled, and it felt like a hard hit to her stomach. “What are you talking about? Where is Alistair?” “He and Miss Butler went to lunch today and disappeared five hours ago. Lord Stephen and her father have been here for about an hour, going through the duke’s personal files.” Now he wrung his hands, all pretense of calm abandoned. Diane leaned forward, her eyebrows furrowed. “Let me speak to Stephen, now,” she ordered. “I can’t, milady, they left.” His lip actually trembled. “Blalock, where did they go?” Her throat tightened her voice to a whisper.

“I don’t know, they didn’t say. But milady, they took the duke’s weapons.” He sat back not even trying to hide his fear and anxiety. “Weapons?” Why would they need weapons, what in God’s name had happened? A kidnapping, perhaps? “Did they notify the police?” “Not that I know of, milady.” Of course not, those two men would just take it upon themselves to think they could handle any situation. Her decision made, she said, “I’m coming over right now, Blalock.” “Oh, thank you, milady.” He sighed and fell back against the chair. “It would be good to have you here.”

*** Jonathan and Stephen rode in the back of the embassy car, the windows mirrored out. Jonathan knew this was no time for his nobility; they would ride together. They’d stopped at his residence, and he quickly dressed in a more formal suit, suitable for an ambassador’s unofficial visit. Stephen still wore his fatigues, black pants, black T-shirt, and tan jacket, but could pass as his personal escort and guard.

The vehicle rounded the corner and pulled to a stop in front of the Century IV embassy. The men stuffed the Tasers in their pockets and got out. Jonathan told the driver to keep the car running and watch the front door, then with Stephen close behind, they climbed the stairs and rang the bell. The door was opened by a uniformed servant. “Yes, may I help you?” “Ambassador Butler to see Ambassador Pheydor please.” The servant bowed and left to give the message. Stephen and Jonathan glanced at each other, but kept their faces blank. If this were anything like his embassy there would be vidcams watching the entrance. After a substantial wait, the man returned. “The ambassador will see you, sir, please come in.” They were led into the foyer and then into a sitting room arranged into several seating areas, with couches and chairs centered on a few small tables. The windows of the room looked out onto the street and the curtains had been drawn. Jonathan and Stephen didn’t take seats, but stood waiting. After five minutes, Ambassador Pheydor entered the room, jovial and smiling, although looking a little flushed. He greeted Jonathan warmly and shook Stephen’s hand as Jonathan introduced him as his personal assistant.

“Are you any relation to Duke Alistair Brandon?” Pheydor asked nonchalantly. “Why, yes, he’s my grandfather, sir. Do you know him?” “Alas, no, I’ve never had the honor, but I have heard of him. He’s a well-known man here on Commonwealth.” He bowed to Stephen ever so slightly. “Now, please be seated and tell me what brings you here, Ambassador Butler.” Pheydor sat in one of the chairs and motioned for the two men to sit on the couch opposite him. Stephen moved closer to the door and stood at parade rest as Jonathan took a seat on the couch. He began his speech; he’d thought about what he would say on the ride over here. “Ambassador, I have been approached by several of the others concerning the upcoming tariff on exports. It seems there is a growing movement to try to block the proposal. I had visits from several of the ambassadors trying to gather support for their efforts.” Pheydor looked relieved for a moment, and then leaned forward. “So you want to know how I’ll advise my government to vote.” He raised his eyebrow in question. “Yes. If we can garner enough support, we might be able to stop this tariff in its tracks and force the

government to reconsider.” Jonathan put on his most sincere expression of concern. “How say you, sir?” Pheydor leaned back and put his finger to his lips, probably thinking how fast he could get rid of them. With any luck, he’d think it just a coincidence they showed up. “Century IV, of course, is against it. You have our support to block the tariff. It would be economic ruin for this to pass. We are almost entirely dependent on New Commonwealth for imports, as you well know.” “That is what I assumed you would vote, but I wanted to be completely sure.” While the ambassador had been speaking, Jonathan had been listening, but not to Pheydor. The embassy was oddly quiet. Not one sound of secretaries muttering, footsteps moving around from office to office, or the console being answered, as if the house held its breath. He’d run out of talk, and Pheydor had stood to shake hands and end their meeting. He and Stephen had no choice but to prepare to leave. But to be so close to his daughter nearly undid him. More than anything he wanted to pull his Taser, place it to Pheydor’s head, and demand the return of Brett and the duke.

***

The other man entered the room. Nestor motioned to the door. “What’s going on out there?” “Some ambassador and his military escort showed up, asking to see Pheydor. They are talking in the sitting room. I wish he’d get rid of them quickly.” The man scratched his chin with the Taser absently. Brett chewed over this new piece of news and wondered who was downstairs. No way it could be her father, or could it? Every fiber in her body told her this was another chance that wouldn’t come again. If she didn’t try something, they’d be dead either way. She took a deep breath and let out a bloodcurdling scream. When she screamed for the second time, the two startled men jumped into action and fell on her. Nestor doubled his fist and punched her square in the jaw. Her face exploded with pain, tears filled her eyes, and she slid to the floor. She wasn’t unconscious, but her vision blurred and the intense pain sent her belly into spasms, preparing to empty. With her hands and arms bound, she could only lie on the carpet, taste her blood’s metallic flavor in her mouth, and try to keep from retching.

“Brett!” the duke shouted as he struggled to sit upright on the bed. “You bastards! You’ll die for that.” Brett knew someone would die, and she prayed it wouldn’t be the duke or her.

*** Jonathan leaped to his feet at the first scream. He’d never heard Brett scream before, but something inside him told him it had been her. It took everything in his power not to draw his weapon. Pheydor turned a shade darker red and flinched. Stephen moved closer to the door, straining to hear. “What was that?” he demanded. Stephen hadn’t pulled his Taser either, holding back also. “Probably nothing, sir, I assure you.” Pheydor waved his hands about as he tried to get them away from the door. At the second scream, Jonathan and Stephen barreled through the door and into the foyer. “It sounded like it came from upstairs,” Stephen said, looking up the staircase. He’d reached the bottom steps when Pheydor stood in the doorway and yelled at him. “You can’t go up there! It’s off-limits!”

“Sir, there is a lady in danger.” Jonathan glanced up and spotted a man with a weapon at the top of the landing. Two men emerged from below the stairs and pointed their weapons at him. “Get down!” he called as he fell back behind the door of the sitting room, pulling Pheydor with him and yanking the Taser from his jacket. Stephen crouched at the foot of the stairs and pulled his weapon, aimed, and fired. The man on the landing collapsed. Jonathan fired on the two others; he hit one, but the other returned fire, just missing him. He ducked back behind the door, counted to three, leaned forward, and fired, hitting the remaining man. Instead of staying back, Pheydor advanced on Jonathan, his face furious and blood red, eyes bulging. “You can’t ruin this! I won’t let…” Jonathan spun and shot him before Pheydor had taken two steps. The ambassador fell heavily in midstride, hitting the floor with a huge thud. Jonathan gave a satisfied grunt at finally being able to shut the bastard up, then came around the door, his weapon ready, and crouched next to Stephen. He motioned with his hand for Stephen to take the stairs; he would cover him. Stephen nodded and advanced slowly up the stairs.

*** The duke tried to slide off the bed to get to Brett. Blood poured from a cut near her eye and from her ear. Her nose had begun to swell and the split on her lip was open again and bleeding too. It made him sick to see her hurt. “Oh, my dear!” He tried to help her, but he was tied in the same fashion as her. He could only sit next to her. He glared at Nestor, who still held the Taser on them, but it shook badly in his hands. The man who had hit Brett went to the door, cracked it open, and peered out. “Looks like they got your brother, Nestor.” “Shit! What should we do?” Nestor eyed Brett and the duke, his obvious fear bubbling just below the surface, which in Brett’s book, made him very dangerous. “I’m not doing anything drastic unless Pheydor tells me to,” the other man said, shaking his head. “Watch them, I’m going out there.” Nestor opened the door and slid out into the hall. Brett opened her mouth again and screamed. Instead of striking her again, the man cowered against the door, weapon drawn and waiting.

*** Stephen made it to the top of the stairs when he heard the heavy breathing. He froze, then slowly dropped into a crouch and waited. When the man tried to peek around the corner to the head of the stairs, Stephen shot him. He toppled forward. Stephen signed for Jonathan to advance. The door to the room opened, and Stephen spotted another man with a weapon aimed at him. Stephen dodged back just in time for the Taser’s bolt of energy to pass him. The sizzle of the discharge in the air as it passed him raised the hair on his head. He motioned for Jonathan to advance next to him. “Second door on the right. Man with a weapon. That must be the room,” Stephen whispered. Jonathan nodded. “Cover me. I’m going down the hall to the other side of the door.” Stephen nodded, raised his weapon, and braced himself against the wall. When he was ready, he nodded and laid down a line of fire on the door. Jonathan bolted down the hall and skidded to a stop when he reached the third door. He fell against it and positioned himself across from the second door. They had a crossfire position now; anyone coming in or going out of the room would be caught in it.

*** Brett lay on the carpet and focused her eyes on the duke. He smiled down at her, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s happening?” she muttered, and again spit blood from her mouth as she tried to sit up. It took some effort, but at last she got upright and leaned against the bed, her head spinning. She pulled her legs under her and took a deep breath. “I think I heard Taser fire, faintly. Maybe downstairs,” he whispered into her ear. They watched as the man opened the door and fired his Taser then closed it quickly as return fire struck the door. They grinned at each other. Whoever it was had taken more ground. “Shit!” he cursed as he turned on them. Brett knew their captor was in a bad situation; two hostile hostages in the room with him and someone pinning down his escape. His comrades downed. He should be getting very desperate right about now. She needed to get him away from the door so whoever was out there could get a chance to get in here. “It’s all over now, you know,” she said. “Drop your weapon and turn yourself in. It will go easier on you.”

He glared at her and took a step toward her. “Shut up, bitch!” “Well, easier than Hugo and Van, that’s for sure.” She smiled, trying to provoke him. It worked. He marched over to her and glared down. “I can get you a deal. Make sure you aren’t beheaded for this…incompetence.” He lowered his weapon and raised his hand to hit her. This time she flinched, and he hesitated. She screamed. He jumped and brought the hand down toward her, but Brett fell backward as his hand fanned her face. The door burst in, and Stephen entered the room low and fast. He shot the man as he spun to face him, and he fell, hitting the bed and sliding off. Brett opened the one eye she could still see out of and smiled up at Stephen. “Brett! Granddad!” Stephen called out as Jonathan came through the door. “My hero!” She laughed, winced, and then said, “Take care of the duke first.” The duke lay back, closed his eyes, and heaved a huge sigh. “Brett!” Jonathan cried out. He went to her and knelt by her side. “What did they do to you, honey?” His voice caught in his throat. Stephen cut the cords that tied both her and his grandfather.

“You should see the other guys, Dad.” She grinned at him as her arms came free, and Stephen pulled to her feet. He looked at her but didn’t say a word as he crushed her to his chest. His hands shook just holding her safe in his arms.

Jonathan wanted nothing more than to hold his girl, but there would be no prying Brett from Stephen’s grip, not until he let her go. Again, he told himself Brett had chosen her future husband well. So he helped the duke to his feet. “Can you manage by yourself?” The duke nodded, and Jonathan went back to the door and checked the hall. Brett and Stephen broke apart, and Stephen tended to his grandfather. “We need to get out of here, now, before everyone comes to.” They padded quickly down the hall, and Jonathan checked out the landing. The ambassador’s henchmen were starting to come around, so he stunned them again. They went down the stairs, and he checked on Pheydor, who still lay out cold; in fact, he looked very bad, much paler than the others. “Let’s go.” Jonathan motioned them toward the door. The small band followed, with Brett and Stephen supporting the old duke between them.

He cracked the door open and checked outside. His car still sat there, running, with the driver waiting. He waved to the driver, and they headed down the steps, Jonathan first, followed by Stephen and Brett helping the duke. As soon as everyone was inside, the driver sped away from the building, turned on the first street, and headed back to Brandon House. “What the hell happened?” Jonathan looked at Brett, then to the duke. The duke’s complexion was gray, and he gasped as if struggling for breath. Stephen pulled out a handkerchief to gently wipe blood off Brett’s face. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. “They wanted the disk the duke received from some guy called Rogers. It has the design for some sort of weapon on it. It was their only copy, it seems.” She smiled at her father. “Can we do this at home, Dad? My head really hurts.” Stephen looked concerned, his gaze searched Brett’s, and his mouth was a hard, firm line. No one spoke until they reached Brandon House, only the driver who called the house and told Blalock they were on their way home. The car slid to a stop in front, and the door opened. Jonathan, Stephen, Brett, and the duke, now under his own power, climbed the steps.

Blalock opened the door with a cry of welcome. They entered the foyer and halted.

Diane stood in the middle of the foyer. She didn’t know how to feel, or which emotion to override the others. Anger, fear, happiness, relief all warred inside her. “Where have you been? Oh, my God, Brett, what happened to you?” Her gaze darted from Brett to Stephen, then to her lover, and finally landed on the duke. “Alistair, are you all right?” She didn’t know who to go to first. None of them knew about her and Jonathan, so she let out a breath and went to the duke, who appeared to need her the most. Supporting him with her arm around his shoulders, she led him into the library and to a large club chair. He fell into it and waved her away. She turned to Stephen and looked at him. “Blalock said you took weapons. What were you doing, Stephen?” her voice was very quiet. “Rescuing Granddad and Brett, Mother.” His reply was weary, as he continued to apply compresses to Brett’s face. Blalock had returned bringing ice for the swelling and fresh cloths for cleaning her wounds.

Diane turned to Jonathan. “And you! You had me scared half to death.” Her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. Without a glance at anyone else, he went to her and pulled her into his arms. They embraced tightly, and he stroked her hair, comforting her, murmuring softly into her ear. Everyone’s gaze was on them as she pulled away to look at her lover. She didn’t care if they knew, they’d know soon enough. “Jonathan, don’t ever do…” His mouth crushed down on hers, stopping her in midsentence. They kissed for a long, delicious moment, making her forget all the people around her. When they separated, she turned to the others. Brett rolled her eyes and smiled. Stephen’s mouth hung open, and the duke managed a small grin. “Ambassador! Mother?” was all Stephen could get out as he stared at them. Brett reached out and took his hand, and pulled him close. “I think they’re in love, Stephen,” she said. His eyebrows furrowed downward, and then his whole face relaxed, slowly transforming into a smug grin. “Ambassador Butler, sir, what are your intentions regarding my mother?” Stephen asked, imitating Jonathan perfectly. “Marriage, son, marriage.” He held Diane, and she looked at her son. Stephen shook his head, went to them, and held out his hand for Jonathan to shake.

They shook on it, then he leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “You have my blessing, Mother.” He returned to Brett’s side to finish tending her injuries.

*** They gathered in the library, and Stephen explained to his mother their part of the adventure. Brett, her face bandaged, explained briefly how they had been taken. She skirted all the details of the basement because Duke Brandon still looked as if he hadn’t quite gotten over those events yet. The duke spoke in a calm, steady voice about Rogers and the disk, how he’d discovered what the weapon was, and how it worked. When they all were up to speed, Jonathan leaned back and rubbed his face with his hand. “We need to bring this to the highest authority we can. Diane, can you get us in to see the regent?” The gravity of the situation played over his face, thinning his lips and hardening his gaze. “When do you want to see him?” She rose, went to the console, and opened a channel to the Regency. “As soon as possible, please; we need to move fast on this.”

After a few minutes, she had been passed through to her cousin, the queen, and at last, Regent William appeared. He listened to her brief explanation, granted them an interview in an hour, and cut the link. Stephen stood. “I have all the data on the weapon on this disk, along with your conclusions, Granddad, and the evidence of the message I decoded. That should be enough, I think, Ambassador?” “Yes, between us we should be able to convince him.” Brett had started to make some noise about going, but he turned to her. “No, you need to stay here and the duke’s not in any shape to help. Sweetheart, would you make sure they get all they need, please?” Diane nodded, giving each of them a stern look. “Have no fear. I’ll make sure neither of them goes anywhere but to bed for some rest.” Jonathan rose and motioned to Stephen. “Let’s go. We’ll take my car. I need to think about this for a few quiet minutes before we arrive. I have an idea forming.” They returned their Tasers to the duke’s foyer table drawer and left. The embassy car waited for them at the front. They climbed in, and he instructed the driver to take them to New Buckingham Palace.

Chapter Twenty-One It was over. She’d never been so glad to see her father as the moment he walked into that room. Despite everything she’d done, she’d wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms like a child seeking comfort. Instead, she fell into Stephen’s arms, and that had been just as good. Better. And that had surprised her, yet it had also told her that the decision to marry him had been the right one. Diane sat next to Brett and checked her face. The duke stood, and Blalock helped him upstairs to his bedroom to lie down and rest. Just before he left the library, he gave Diane a look, sad and guilty, and then turned away without meeting Brett’s gaze. Diane leaned back on the couch and sighed. “What really happened, Brett?” There would be no way around this but the truth. But would it pull Stephen’s mother toward her or push her away? Brett exhaled and looked into Diane’s searching gaze. “I killed two men in the basement where we were being held.” Blunt, hard words, said with no emotion.

She knew she’d shocked Diane by the paling of the woman’s complexion. “The ones that were holding you, the ones that did all this to you?” “Yes, they were trying to get the duke to tell them where the disk was, and they were afraid to hurt him, because of his advanced age.” She licked her lips and leaned her head back, closing her eyes. “They used me instead as leverage on him.” “Dear God,” Diane gasped. “No wonder the duke was so upset.” “I told him not to tell; they would kill us as soon as they got the information. He understood the situation.” “But Brett, he’s so fond of you and all the promise you hold.” Diane took Brett’s hand and gave it a hard squeeze. “That’s how they got him in the end, how they broke him.” She paused and swallowed. The words came out in a whisper. “The one hitting me, Hugo, took me into another room, and the other told the duke if he didn’t tell, he would let Hugo rape me.” “Brett, he didn’t…” she whispered, as the horror of the thought furrowed her once smooth brow. “Lady Diane, I was a major in the Marines, in security, and trained to kill. I stabbed the man with his own knife and then used it to kill the other.” She closed her eyes and put her hands over her face. She’d

been trained, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t feel the psychological effects of killing another human being. To Brett’s surprise, Diane took her in a tight hug and held her, murmuring soft words. It was a mother’s comfort and one Brett dearly needed. Tears streamed from Brett’s eyes, but she made no sounds, refusing to break down and sob over her actions. She refused to feel remorse, other than to wish it hadn’t have happened, but she knew if she hadn’t done what she did, both she and the duke would be dead. After a few moments, Diane held her at arm’s length. “You need to speak to the duke. I think he’s not sure what happened in that room, and I believe he fears the worse.” Brett nodded and stood. She straightened her clothes, running her hands over her dress, and remembered she still had no panties on. That must have been it; he’d seen the panties clutched in Hugo’s hand. “Damn. I hadn’t thought of that.” She left the library and climbed the stairs to his room. Brett knocked softly on his door, and at hearing his voice, she entered. He lay in his bed, on top of the covers. Blalock had helped him change his clothes. He looked so much less the retired officer and more an old, frail

man. She’d done this to him, and she cringed inside at the knowledge. “I’m so sorry, Brett,” his voice wavered, and tears filled his eyes. She went to the bed, sat on it next to him and took his hand and held it to her cheek. “My dearest duke, you have nothing to be sorry for, or ashamed of. I want to assure you that I remain untouched by that man. I gave him my undergarment in an effort to distract him, and then in an unguarded moment, I kicked him, took his knife, and stabbed him.” “Dearest God, Brett, for you to have to do that,” he cried. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.” Tears ran down his face, and he patted her hand. “There was no need. I was in security, sir, for six years, trained as a Marine, and although I have never killed anyone before, I was prepared to do so. I won’t let this come between us, sir; there is no guilt for you to feel. We beat them, sir, together.” She smiled at him and patted his hand. “I’m going to marry Stephen and fill this house with our children. I need you well, sir, to brag about the children to all your old friends.” He smiled a little at that, put his hand over hers, and returned the pressure. “I knew when I first saw Stephen and you together that you were the one. I told Stephen that he’d better not ruin it, and that I wanted you for his

wife.” His eyes now twinkled a bit as his former self returned. “I know; he told me. I’d thought I couldn’t be any more blessed with my own family, but I realize now, coming into your family is just another blessing.” She leaned forward, kissed him on his cheek, and pulled a throw blanket over him. “Get some rest, sir. I’ll let you know when they return.” She stood and quietly left the room.

*** Jonathan and Stephen rode in silence to the palace. Jonathan's mind spun around a plan, but would the regent accept it? It was bold and very aggressive, but from what he’d seen of William, he thought it stood a good chance. They arrived, and were shown into a private parlor off the regent’s office. After a few minutes, William appeared, followed by two guards who took up their stations at the door. He sat on a chair next to a long velvet sofa, and with a wave of his hand instructed them to sit. Jonathan explained what they had found and how it had been discovered. William remained silent through all this, only asking to see the disks at the

end. He slid them into his console and brought up the holo of the device. Then he tapped on the keys, and the file marked Conclusions opened, and he read it. Finally, he turned back to Jonathan and Stephen with his eyebrows raised in question. “Ambassador, as I see it, this puts you in an awkward position. While you have certainly foiled a plot to overthrow the monarchy and put New Commonwealth under the grips of Century IV, your first duty is to Old Earth, is it not?” “Yes, your highness. You understand my position.” “Indeed, and what do you propose?” William lifted an eyebrow and waited. “All the technology by rights belongs to New Commonwealth. Such power would tip the scales in the Archipelago. Such power would also be a temptation to lesser men, to use that power for expansion, not defense.” “Just so, Ambassador.” William nodded, no longer smiling, his eyes watching Jonathan carefully. “However, that doesn’t go to say that any planet holding this power might turn it against the others to its own advantage. Back on Old Earth in the late twentieth century, there was a standoff called the Cold War. Both sides had the same capacity for destruction, enough nuclear weapons to destroy the Earth several times over. A balance of power that kept

both sides in check, because if either one used the weapons, the other would retaliate and bring on the end of the world, with no winner, only annihilation.” “And your proposal is?” William waited. “Give this technology to all the planets, except Euphrates Prime. Create a balance of power to bring the planets more into alignment and thereby create a strong defensive front to the Ottomans.” He stopped and leaned back as he watched the Regent think over his proposal. “A bold proposal, indeed.” William leaned forward and placed his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. “Spread the wealth, so to speak. No one would use it against the others, but we would all use it in common defense against the Ottomans. Maintain the balance, indeed.” Jonathan nodded, and Stephen held his breath. For the first time Jonathan wondered exactly what type of man the regent was and whether he would take the data, which he had every right to do, and dismiss them. William’s eyes closed. Then he sat up, opened his eyes, and looked from Stephen to Jonathan and back. “Ambassador, I respect your assessment of the military and political implications this weapon has dropped in our lap. I would like for you to convene the other Ambassadors and lay out your proposal to them. We want a treaty drawn up, to mutually benefit

all the signers, not only with respect to the weapon, but also one that would encompass a new order of power amongst the Archipelago.” “Sort of a constitutional convention, if you will, sir?” Jonathan nodded, seeing where the regent was headed. “Excellent idea, why not bind us all together formally? Independent planets, yet answering to the greater good of all.” He leaned back and smiled at Stephen, who nodded. “How fast can you move on this, Ambassador?” William asked. “I will start the process as soon as I return to my embassy.” He paused, uncertain if he should bring this up. “Your Highness, what should be done about Ambassador Pheydor and Century IV?” “We are sure that the government there will cry they knew nothing of the weapon or its orders to be built, or the intention of using it as other than a defense. So in order not to create another enemy where there is currently none…” He smiled and held his hands out. “I will make sure Pheydor is present, Regent. It may be awkward for the two of us, but I’m sure cooler heads will prevail.” He stood, and Stephen rose, then they both bowed and left the room. The regent would have to deal with this among his advisors and the other members of the government.

Jonathan didn’t envy him his position or his power.

*** “So you’re in love with my mother?” Stephen had settled back in the car and turned to Jonathan. He glared at the ambassador and shook his head. “I’m afraid so, Stephen. It was as much a surprise to us, I assure you.” Stephen stared out of the window and watched the buildings go by. “She has been alone for a long time, sir. When I was younger, I knew she wouldn’t marry because of me. Frankly, I didn’t want to share her with anyone, didn’t want to lose her also. But as I grew older and matured, I realized I did her a great disservice.” He sighed. “Then I began to feel guilty; she’d wasted the best years of her life on me.” “I don’t believe she ever looked at them as a waste, Stephen. More like her duty. To make sure your life was on the right track before she could start hers again.” Jonathan smiled. “You’ll understand it once you have your own children. For some people, they themselves come first, for others, their children come first.”

“Now, she’s older and…” He paused, knowing it wasn’t coming out right. “Stephen, your mother is the most beautiful woman I know. I can’t help feeling we needed to be in the right places in our lives to have come together.” Jonathan chuckled. “I’m afraid I feel far more fortunate than she does, in that respect.” Stephen looked out the window again and bit his lower lip. He wanted to ask, but didn’t know how. “I know it’s probably none of my business, but are you sleeping with my mother?” “Your mother is past the age of consent, Stephen, and no, it’s not your business. I was raised as a gentleman, and I would protect her any way I can, even from her son.” “I only ask that you take care of her reputation, sir. Marry her quickly, before word gets out, whether the truth or lies. Her standing means a great deal to her.” Stephen stared at Butler dead-on, intent that Butler understood him. “Then I would like to marry her as soon as possible, son.” He smiled. “I only wish I could do the same for you.” “But I am not sleeping with your daughter, sir. We have agreed on the six months time frame.” His voice sounded tired and he rubbed the bridge of this nose between his fingers.

“Six months is a long time, and it doesn’t insure your resolve won’t weaken. In fact, I worry the depth of your feeling will make that six months very hard to reach without slipping.” He sighed. “I realize Brett is very beautiful, and that you are an experienced man. And I’m not such a fool as to think my daughter inexperienced.” “I assure you, I am not an animal who can’t control his needs and wants. I want her, don’t mistake that, but I also must protect her honor above whatever I may want or need.” “Thank you, Stephen. For both your sakes, I will try to move the date up. I’ll speak to Diane about three months, instead of six, how is that?” “That would be wonderful, sir. We would appreciate that effort.” He grinned and held out his hand to Jonathan. “Sir, make my mother happy.” “I have every intention of doing just that.” He held Stephen’s hand just a little longer. “Stephen, I couldn’t have asked for a better son than you. Just as Diane will welcome Brett as a daughter, would you welcome me as a father?” Stephen blinked several times and swallowed hard. “Sir, I would be honored. I have the greatest respect for you.” Butler let his hand go. Stephen sat back and they drove the rest of the way to Brandon House in silence.

*** When they arrived, Jonathan went straight to the duke’s study and began contacting the other ambassadors. He had saved Pheydor for last; that was a call he wanted to make face-to-face. Telling the others that something very big had come up and they needed to meet had been easy. Most had assumed it would be about the tariff issue, and all agreed to meet with him and each other. He’d set the meeting for two days later at the New Commonwealth Embassy. All he had left to do was to contact Pheydor, something he wasn’t relishing. Pheydor had ordered Brett kidnapped and then possibly ordered her death over this weapon. He’d always like Pheydor, so this felt like even more of a betrayal, and he wondered if he would be able to keep control when he saw him. He tapped in the code to the Century IV embassy and a guard answered. “Is Ambassador Pheydor there?” he asked wearily. “Lionel Pheydor is no longer ambassador, sir. I will connect you to the acting ambassador, Mr. Jorge Montego.” The screen went gray and Jonathan sat back, surprised at this turn of events. Pheydor out and someone new in. That had been incredibly quick. Pheydor must have reported his

mistakes and paid the price with his job. Jonathan wondered if that was all he paid with. The screen came back to life and a man appeared. He was younger than Pheydor and looked thin and pale. He nodded curtly to Jonathan and spoke with a slight accent. “Ambassador Butler, I am Jorge Montego, acting ambassador for Century IV. What can I do for you, sir?” “Mr. Montego, what happened to Pheydor?” He wanted to know what Montego knew about the incident. “Mr. Pheydor has been removed from his office, sir, by order of the President of the Council of Century IV. I have been moved into his position, in the short-term, until someone can be sent from the home planet.” Well, that told him next to nothing. “Then we need to speak. Are you aware of the events that occurred today at the embassy?” Montego shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Yes, we are aware that certain actions not approved or condoned by the current administration occurred here.” “Mr. Montego, I was involved in those events, as was my daughter. I need to speak to you. May I come by as soon as possible?” Montego looked embarrassed, but nodded. “Sir, we would appreciate your insight into the events, and

offer our sincere apologies. I will see you as soon as you arrive.” Jonathan cut the link and sat back. Well, either the government knew nothing about this or they were going to act like it. Either way, it would make everything much easier. He stood, stretched, and decided to find Diane before he left. He needed to speak to her about his conversation with Stephen.

*** Diane knocked softly on Duke Brandon’s door, entered, and sat on the edge of his bed. She took his hand and smiled at him. “You’re going to be just fine, Alistair. You’re a tough old bird.” “And you, Diane, you will marry Ambassador Butler, I think.” He smiled at her and she blushed. “Yes, I will. Can you imagine, after what seems to be a lifetime of being alone, I find him. Or did he find me?” “It’s time you found someone, Diane; you are too beautiful to waste. He will do well for you, I think.” He patted her hand as he held it. “Yes, he will, sir. And Stephen has found Brett too. Soon this house will be full again. You’re going to

insist they move in here, aren’t you? The east wing would do very nicely. It was very good for Marston, Stephen, and me, you know.” She winked at him, and he nodded. “Yes, the east wing will do nicely. Now go see that man of yours and find out when he is going to make an honest woman of you, my dear.” “Oh, dear, does it show?” Her eyes crinkled in a smile at him. “I think your eyes do not tell lies, Diane. Nor do his. You must marry quickly, you know.” “Yes, I think I would like that very much. Perhaps in a few days?” “That would be good. We will have it here. I’ll call Justice May; he owes me a favor, my dear.” “Don’t you think we should inform Jonathan of all these plans?” she teased. “Tell Jonathan about what plans?” The very man stood in the doorway, leaning on the doorknob, looking so handsome her knees nearly gave out. Diane stood and went to him. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “I was just telling Diane,” the duke continued, “that I think you should marry as soon as possible, before everyone starts talking about what you two have been up to.” “Good God, not you too?” Jonathan shook his head. He came to stand near the duke’s bed.

“Who else?” Diane asked, as her heart beat faster. “Stephen. He asked me point blank. Wants us to marry as soon as possible to save your honor.” “Oh.” She chuckled. “It seems we are transparent, my love.” “It was very awkward.” He cleared his throat. “No doubt, Jonathan. Stephen must have loved it,” the duke muttered. “What did you tell him?” she asked, biting her lower lip. “That I was a gentleman, and gentlemen don’t talk.” She smiled at him, and he touched her hair in a gentle caress. “Marry me, this weekend, and let’s be done with it,” she offered. “Certainly, I am yours.” Butler hugged her to him. “Now take her out of here, Jonathan; I’m an old man and need my rest.” The duke waved them away with his hand and pulled the covers back up. They closed the door softly behind them and went downstairs. “By the way, I promised Stephen they could marry in three months, not six.” Butler smiled at her. “Oh that’s alright, the talk about us will be dying down by then, and it will give everyone something else to speculate about.” She sighed.

She would just have to accept there were some things she couldn’t control.

*** Brett lay on the couch in the library, an icepack held over her eye and cheek. The swelling was going down, but the bruising was still bright purple, and her head pounded. The split in her lip had closed with some liquid cut sealer, and she’d taken off her shoes and curled her legs under her. Stephen came in the room and stood in front her, hands on his hips. “Your father has slept with my mother, did you know that?” he accused her. “No, I didn’t know, but good for them.” She winced as she tried to smile. “That’s all very well for him, but what will people say about her?” “That she’s lucky to have found such a wonderful man?” Brett offered from under an icepack. “Or that he was lucky to have found her, more likely.” He sighed and sat next to her. “I wish I could sleep with you as easily.” He took her hand and kissed it. “We promised we’d wait, remember? Our time will come, Stephen, in six months or so.” She groaned,

not from the pain of her injuries, but the idea of waiting. “Good news, your father agreed to move up the wedding to only three months.” He smiled at her sideways. Brett dropped the icepack and stared at him. “You are wicked, Stephen. Did you guilt him into that?” Stephen nodded as one side of his lips curled up in a grin. “Good, I want to be with you too, my love. Truthfully, I don’t think I could have held out until six months. I don’t think I can hold out three months, but if that’s the new goal, I’ll try my best. As long as you don’t tempt me.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t promise, because every time I hold you in my arms, you tempt me.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her properly. And damn the man if he didn’t tempt her.

Chapter Twenty-Two Jonathan met acting Ambassador Montego at the Century IV embassy and sat on the same sofa he did when he’d spoken with Pheydor. He assumed everything had been cleaned up, the basement and the room where Brett and the duke had been rescued from. There was no sign of any of the men he had seen; in fact, this time four armed, uniformed embassy guards stood at attention at the front door in the foyer and in twos at the top of the stairs, none of which he saw last time. Montego looked tired and pale and very uncomfortable. He sat across from Jonathan in the chair Pheydor had sat in. He crossed his legs and motioned with a wave of his hand for Jonathan to proceed. “Mr. Montego, are you aware of all the events that happened here today?” “Yes, sir, I have been made aware of everything. We apologize and deeply regret any harm your daughter and Duke Brandon may have come to at the hands of former Ambassador Pheydor. He was, I assure you, operating well outside of the scope of his assignment. Our government was unaware of the

weapon. As we found out from Pheydor during questioning, he planned to sell it to a group wishing to launch a coup of the current government.” “How was he removed so quickly?” Jonathan was very curious about the speed at which the powers that be moved. So, they were going to use a coup to cover up their part in this. “We, uh, have for some time been watching Ambassador Pheydor, and we had a person we trusted on his staff. When the events occurred, this person contacted with us immediately, but by the time we got here, the situation had been handled.” “Well, he or she certainly gave us no help, sir. I was not pleased to have to come in here, Taser blazing, to rescue my daughter and Duke Brandon from Pheydor’s henchmen. I saw no one other than his men.” “Yes, most unfortunate, but I assure you, that when the events unfolded our person established contact with authorities as soon as he could without jeopardizing his own situation. We arrived shortly after you left and took control of the embassy.” Jonathan sat back and studied the man in front of him. Acting ambassador, I’ll bet. More like head of secret police watching Pheydor. If he was, then Pheydor was long gone, along with his henchmen, probably on a diplomatic courier ship back to

Century IV to face, well, whatever it was they were going to face. “Unfortunately, it was too late to keep my daughter from being beaten, sir.” He stared at Montego, who uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “May I ask, sir, who killed the men in the basement?” Montego’s eyebrow lifted slightly. It was his turn to hold the upper hand and time for Jonathan to shift his weight on the sofa. The last thing he wanted to do was implicate Brett in a double murder, even if there were extenuating circumstances. “Let’s just agree that the deaths of those two henchmen did not happen, and that the kidnapping of Duke Brandon and Brett and her attempted rape didn’t happen either, shall we?” As badly as he’d love to seek some justice, it was the best deal for both of them. “Just so.” Montego opened his hand and held it out, then closed it into a fist. “We are agreed, nothing happened to involve anyone other than ourselves.” “Agreed. There is one other thing, sir. The regent has called a special meeting for all the ambassadors to attend. We will be discussing the fate of the weapon and a new treaty. I assume you will be there, and lend your full support?” “Absolutely. You may depend on it, sir.” Montego stood, indicating the interview was over,

and Jonathan stood and shook his hand. Montego walked him to the door and bowed him out.

*** Ambassador Jonathan Butler stood in front of the other ambassadors gathered at the New Commonwealth Embassy. They met in the large meeting room, sitting around the conference table. The five ambassadors sat on either side of the table, and their undersecretaries and aides sat in chairs against the wall behind them. Jonathan had loaded the vidcom there with the disk of the weapon, Duke Brandon’s conclusions, and gave a bare-bones explanation of how the weapon had fallen into their hands. There had been a lot of discussion on the technical merits of the weapon, and frankly, many of the men were disturbed by the sheer raw power of the thing. There wasn’t a man among them that couldn’t see the implications of only one of them having the weapon. And all could see the advantage the weapon gave against the Ottomans. Ambassador Rohan stood and spoke to the men gathered in that room.

“I want to make it perfectly clear that this meeting is being done under the auspices of William, Regent of New Commonwealth. By all rights, this weapon is his, to do with as he will. However, he has seen that there is a far greater political good that can be reached by this proposal.” Ambassador Rohan paused and looked at Butler to continue. “He intends to give each of the planets in the Archipelago this weapon to use in defense against the Ottomans.” Jonathan added. There was a silence as the implications sank in, then the room exploded. There were so many questions being asked of him that he finally had to put his hands up and ask for quiet. “One at a time, please. Now, Ambassador Feng?” “There will be no cost for this weapon?” “The only cost of signing the treaty is agreeing to the conditions that have been laid out and the actual cost of building the weapon. I’m sure you’ll realize whatever costs you incur in the benefit of belonging to the new Archipelago. If you will read the document before you, I’m sure you’ll see that this is mutually beneficial to all, both in the sense of the weapon, and in the sense that it ties us all much closer together.” There was a hurried effort to scan the document, and for a few minutes the room fell silent.

“This constitution of the Archipelago will be ratified by all except Euphrates Prime?” Ambassador Konig asked, glaring at Jonathan. “Yes, all or nothing. If everyone signs, we all get the weapon; if we don’t all sign, William keeps the weapon for himself and uses it as he sees fit, which may or may not include defending the rest of you from attack.” “All or nothing, eh? That seems fair. I’d hate to see my fate decided on a whim. William is young, but there is no telling what the future holds,” Konig stated, and sat back. During the rest of the debate, Konig became his staunchest supporter. After Konig had made a rather good point about the all-for-one, one-for-all stance of the Federation, Jonathan had caught his eye, and they had both nodded their mutual assent. Montego was quiet; he had no questions because he must have been told to vote for the constitution. Butler doubted Century IV’s government was anxious to have the events that took place at the embassy discovered and knew the acting ambassador would cast his vote at the call as promised. After an hour or so of further discussion, they took the first vote. It was unanimous to accept the constitution and to share the weapon. The document had been drawn up by Jonathan and Rohan of New Commonwealth over the last two

days. They had been locked in Rohan’s office, hammering out the document. Jonathan represented the interests of the other planets, and Rohan, the regent’s interests. There was a mutual protection clause: each planet could be called upon to send troops and warcraft to help defend the other planets. The force would be controlled by the Archipelago under the flag of the new Archipelago Federation of Planets. The details would be hammered out by the ambassadors of the planets, such as where it would be built, how to share the technology, and the time frame for deployment. No one planet could have the weapon before the others. Each planet had to be able to produce the antimatter and build the containers and weapon, so that no piece could be held back from the others. Infrastructure would have to be built on a few of the more rural planets with the aid of the more technologically advanced planets. The constitution also made them all trading partners, with a set tariff agreed by all. The lower tariff on exports and imports basically opened freeflowing trade, stimulating economies on various planets and maintaining economic strength on others. Building strong economies was in everyone’s best interests. Stable economies meant stable governments. A representative of each of the planets would sit on the Federation’s council to ensure that the letter

and intent of the constitution and treaty were followed. That council would send the Federation forces to wherever they were needed, and it would settle any trade disputes between planets. Each planet would send one general to sit on the Federation’s general staff, to ensure the proper use of this military force. The general staff was the check and balance to the council; without their approval no military action could be taken. The Federation would set tariffs and unify common laws that touched on matters that occurred in space between the planets, like piracy, smuggling, and even espionage. Each planet still would be governed by their own government, but now had to answer to the Federation on galactic affairs. A boundary was agreed upon and set by defining where the Federation’s authority began and the planets’ authority ended. They decided to use the Lagrange point of each planet, the place where the communications satellites sat just at the edge of the planet’s gravitational pull. It was seen as a new galactic order, a new age of peace and exchange of ideas and technology. All saw a common threat in Euphrates Prime. There was even a clause that foresaw that as more planets were colonized, others could be brought into the Federation by adopting a constitutional amendment.

A fund would be set up, financed by each planet, to help cover the costs of running this Federation. Each planet gave an equal amount for an equal share in the Federation. One planet, one representative, one general, one vote in the Federation. There was a small argument about where this Federation should be based, but due to the fact that New Commonwealth had pushed it through, in the end it was agreed they would host the Federation, and everyone voted to mutually fund the building of the Federation’s new offices, to be located in New London. The meeting went on for eight hours, but finally the main points were settled, and the minor details and accounting left to the undersecretaries. As the ambassadors gathered their papers and started to leave, several stopped by to congratulate Jonathan on his impending marriage. Even Konig came by and spoke to him. At first, it was awkward between the two men, allies for the Federation, but who on a personal level could in no way be called friends. Jonathan had a new respect for Konig; he’d always thought the man politically sharp, but Konig’s arguments had been good enough to sway the most cynical of the ambassadors. Feng from Xui Lu. Konig, too, had a new appreciation of Butler, as one of the drafters of

the document and as the person behind the entire concept of the Federation. “I understand that you are to be congratulated, Butler. You are to be married, eh?” Konig said, shaking Jonathan’s hand slowly. “Yes, we will marry tomorrow.” “Is there to be a honeymoon?” Konig raised his eyebrow. “I’m afraid this work came first, but now that it’s over, we leave for the south.” He watched Konig for some crude remark. “I understand it is Lady Diane Brandon.” Konig stared into his eyes. “Yes.” He waited for one of his typical remarks. Konig paused, for once his face serious. “You are a very lucky man, sir; she is not only a beautiful woman, but a woman of depth and grace.” Jonathan could almost feel a sense of envy from Konig. “Thank you, Ambassador.” He bowed slightly. Konig looked as if he were about to say something, but he swallowed and looked down at his feet. Then the moment passed. “Has she got a sister?” Konig barely hid a smile as he took Jonathan by surprise. Then Konig slapped him on the back once, turned, and walked away.

Chapter Twenty-Three Jonathan and Diane held their wedding in the garden at Brandon House, surrounded by Stephen, Brett, and Duke Brandon. Justice May, returning the duke’s favor, stood in front of the couple and read the oaths of marriage from his scroll. Brett stood next to Diane, Stephen with Jonathan, and the duke stood behind them, wearing a huge smile on his face. He hadn’t stopped smiling all day. Brett had decorated the garden with paper lanterns and tiny white lights. The wedding dinner had been prepared and waited inside. Butler wore his ambassador’s suit and Diane a new cream gown she bought for the wedding. Stephen had taken Jonathan out that day to find suitable rings for the occasion, since he knew his mother’s taste. They found two matching rings in platinum, an Old Earth metal, very expensive, hers set with diamonds, and his was a plain wide band. The oaths were said, the rings were exchanged, and finally Jonathan was allowed to kiss his bride. Stephen shook his hand and kissed his mother on her cheek and Brett kissed her father and then Diane’s cheek. Duke Brandon kissed both Jonathan and Diane

on the cheek. They returned to the house and sat down for dinner. After dinner ended and the traditional toasts were made to the happy couple, leaving out the words about having lots of children, and Jonathan and Diane left for her apartment to spend the night. They would leave for the honeymoon the next day, and spend a week in the south. Diane had dismissed her maid for the evening, and they had the place all to themselves. She and Brett had gone shopping that day for a new trousseau for her to wear. Their bags for the trip had been packed and waited at the ambassador’s residence, ready to be sent ahead. Jonathan watched as Diane turned down the lights and pulled a bottle of chilled champagne from her small kitchen refrigerator. She nestled it down in a silver ice bucket, selected two crystal flutes from her shelf, and handed them to him. They brought the champagne and flutes into her bedroom and Jonathan managed to open the bottle without losing most of the golden bubbly liquid all over her carpet. He poured their glasses full and then made his own toast to her. “To greed.” They sipped and smiled. He took Diane’s glass from her, placed it on the small table in front of the window, and took her in his arms.

“Now that I’ve made an honest woman out of you, will you join me in bed, madam?” He winked at her. “Thank you for rescuing my honor, sir, and yes, I would love to join you in bed.” Diane turned her back to him and lifted her blonde hair so he could unfasten her gown. He slid the zipper slowly down, careful of the silk fabric, as he enjoyed watching her soft, pale skin appear underneath the material. When he reached the end, he slowly slid his hands over her shoulders and the gown fell to the floor, exposing her full slip in matching cream. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him, caressing her breasts gently, as he kissed where her neck and shoulder met. She sighed softly and turned in his arms to kiss him. As they kissed she slid his jacket off and let it drop. Then she unbuttoned his shirt and helped him remove it. They kissed again, and then she slipped away to change into her negligee. While she undressed in the bathroom, he finished undressing and got into bed to wait for her. At first, he’d left his boxers on, then decided to take them off, so he hopped out of bed, tugged them down, and climbed back in and pulled the covers up to his waist. “What do you think?” Diane stood in the doorway of the bathroom, in a very sheer black full-

length negligee that hugged her body and left very little to the imagination. “It’s black!” Jonathan gasped, then as his body reacted, he gave her a wicked grin. She sauntered toward the bed. “You didn’t think I was going to wear white, did you? We’re both too old for that pretense, don’t you think?” He swallowed hard, lifting the sheets for her to slide in next to him. He turned the lights down to a soft glow and took her in his arms. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For giving me back my heart, for giving me a second chance at a life spent with a wonderful, beautiful woman.” He kissed her. “You’re welcome, but it’s you who took a chance on me.” She ran her fingers over his chest, playing them in the dark hair that curled across it, to the scars on his shoulder. “Either way, we’re damn lucky to have found each other.” “Indeed.” He nodded, then gasped as she lowered her mouth to his nipple and licked it. “Diane!” He groaned as her hand found his shaft, half-hard, and brought it fully to life. “Now, I think much less talking, much more action.” She pulled him over to cover her body. “As you command,” he replied, and marveled at his new life and his new family. Not bad for an old warhorse. Not bad at all.

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