Authors: Joey W. Hill
She had dark hair nearly to her knees and wore a sapphire and silver sari with matching jewels that made her appear as a princess, except for her submissive pose behind his chair, her long-lashed eyes down, hands folded. It took him a moment, still recovering from the shock of Danny, to notice the sari she wore was sheer, as was the halter piece beneath, so there was the suggestion of her sex and nipples beneath the flowing garments.
When he shifted his gaze to the other, he recalled Ian had called her Chiyoko, and registered for the first time that Ian’s servant was Japanese. An unusual sight in Oz, when anti-Nip feeling still ran so high. He didn’t have much problem with it, though, because he’d met enough Japanese villagers during his tour to know there was a difference between the enemy you fought and the people caught in between. Though in war, he acknowledged there was often no time to sort out the difference, for either side.
Again, silky black hair, and she wore a black cheongsam with gold and crimson dragons embroidered on it. The cheongsam was cut all the way up beyond the thigh to the waist, so that when she moved, it was possible to see the neat curve of naked arse, the dusky crease to her sex. The frog clasp neckline followed the shoulder, but the front bodice was open cut, her breasts completely bare to a man’s gaze. A crisscross of ribbon over them held the shape of the dress and served to lift the small curves. It appeared there were some kind of clamps on her nipples, screwed in to hold them taut, with a delicate beaded chain running between them.
Another series of chains ran up to her throat, and he realized then that the clamps attached to a collar she had fitted beneath the standing collar of the cheongsam.
Holy Christ. When he’d taken whores, they’d been the simple kind that might hang about a pub and give a man a good go, but basically average girls. Before that, he’d been a husband with a trusting, adventurous wife, but they’d been kids. Even as a soldier, there were dark places he hadn’t gone during his tour of duty. He felt like a youngster again, agog at the underwear section of his mother’s mail-order catalog.
They play their real games after dinner.
He pushed away his uneasiness about that, though he couldn’t ignore the weight of the glances they were giving him. Or the looks he was getting from Ian and Lord Charles, though he made sure to keep his gaze on the back of Danny’s chair, aware of their regard but not meeting it. It rankled, but he knew being a stubborn swagman wouldn’t help Danny now. In fact, he was getting the distinct feeling it was a liability of some kind, not having a full servant. It affected her standing in this gathering, which made it more important that he try to observe the niceties.
Bloody hell
. He could drown in waters like these.
“Are you still fencing, Lady Daniela?” This from Ruskin, as he was brought his glass of wine. A glance at the sidebar told Dev it wasn’t the cheap plonk he was used to. Still, without prompting, he moved there, chose an unopened bottle, and waved off the manservant who’d poured Ruskin and Ian’s. Conscious of their regard, he nevertheless drew his smaller knife, cut a vein and let his own blood flavor the wine he poured in a glass and brought to her.
She chose to take it from his hand, her gaze rising to meet his as their fingers brushed. “Thank you, Dev.”
I don’t trust anyone in this den of thieves.
She gave a slight acknowledgment, a flit of her lashes. Then she turned her attention back to Ruskin’s question. “Of course, Lord Charles. I prefer the saber. The footwork is more challenging.”
“I remember being surprised when your mother told me that,” Ian put in. “Most women are attracted to the foil, for it relies more on light finger work, not so much wrist strength. Constance preferred light fingers.”
“In profession, my lord. Not in swordplay.” Danny chuckled. “But she would appreciate your wit. She herself was actually most fond of the cavalry sword. She could be terrifying on horseback. I think the staff was afraid she’d try to practice beheading when she was in a temper.”
“Perhaps we could have a match later tonight?” Ruskin suggested, tracing the rim of his cup as he studied her.
“Of course. I’ll need to change. I wouldn’t want my dress mussed for sport alone. This was my father’s favorite.” She glanced toward Ian. “Since it was toward the back of her wardrobe, I am assuming she rarely wore it for you.”
He gave her a humorless smile. “She preferred the past to remain there. Her focus was on our future together.”
“Perhaps that’s why she chose to meet the sun,” she rejoined sweetly.
“Children,” Ruskin said mildly, though there was anticipation in his gaze that made Dev wonder what agenda the old bastard had himself. “Let’s drive the tension between the two of you in a more pleasurable direction. Perhaps you could suggest an entertainment for us during the soup, Lady D?” His gaze rose to Devlin. “You have a fine-looking servant attending you. I’d like to see his capabilities.”
“His capabilities are far beyond the scope of a dining room, Lord Charles. This man is my new station manager, here tonight merely for form, because he is my most highly ranked employee. Not my full servant. You know how I hate to be hovered over.” She cocked her head. “But I would take great joy in watching your two servants pleasure one another. I expect it would not distress either of you as well.”
“Lady Daniela thinks only of us. So generous. But I must challenge the truth of your statement. Not because I doubt you, but because of the man himself.” Ruskin raised that cold gaze to Dev as he struggled to keep looking at the wall, Danny’s nape. “He carries two marks, according to Ian. And his eyes follow you with such hunger, he’s obviously under your spell. As are we all,” he added with malicious gallantry. “What will he do for that hunger? Is he ravenous enough to go against his nature? Earlier you questioned Ian for elevating a human servant to the status of a vampire in this household. I question the strength of a vampire who has a human in her employ she can’t command to her will.”
“I’ve stated my preferences, Lord Ruskin.” Danny’s voice turned cool, though her pose remained relaxed. “Are you denying me my preferred entertainment? While we are far from the formal dining rooms of England, I expected you, of all people, to know our rules of social etiquette. You invited me to call out the first entertainment. I have done so.”
A silence around the table. Dev knew Danny’s casual demeanor had to be a deception, but damn, she pulled it off well. He didn’t like the satisfied light in Ian’s eyes one bit, though. The bastard felt he’d one-upped her.
“Aapti.” Lord Charles turned at last, nodded at his servant. “You and Chiyoko, move there.” He gestured to the open area of the floor, the wood covered by a colorful Persian carpet. The scattering of pillows against the wall reminded Dev of the palaces in India. As the two women complied, a study of sensuous movement, Ruskin cocked a brow, spoke tonelessly. “Lady D, it is your show.”
Danny nodded. “Kneel facing one another, but leave about three feet between you. Remove everything except your shoes and jewelry.”
He would
not
give away his complete lack of experience in such things by spewing all over himself like a boy. Instead, he’d settle for swallowing his tongue. Dev watched, amazed as Aapti unwrapped the sari, let it float to the floor around her, and then removed the bodice beneath so she was standing before them only in the shoes, bracelets, rings and heavy brace of gold necklaces that stacked high around her throat, keeping her chin raised.
Chiyoko also unhooked the frogs and the side fastener to step out of the cheongsam, leaving on her high-heeled shoes. Now he could see the collar attached to the chains that ran to her nipples, and realized a chain also ran down the back of her collar, into the cleft between her buttocks. Then under and up, splitting her cunt lips and going straight up her shaved mound, hooking onto a tiny silver bar pierced through her navel. In the open space between her navel and the nipple clamps, an elaborate tattoo had been inked across her upper abdomen. The design was that of a delicate tree, its many leaves and branches etched out in fine black dye, with several Japanese characters aligned alongside it. The whole display was one of the most erotic things he’d ever seen, and he shifted, feeling a need for adjustment.
No need for self-consciousness here, bushman. No one in this room objects to seeing you handle your cock.
That’s what concerns me a little bit.
Would you like me to do it?
As she tilted her head toward him, there was a touch of laughter in her mind-voice at his sudden flood of panic. But he noted the humor didn’t reach her eyes. She leveled her gaze on the two women again.
“I did have in mind to use one of the household servants, my lord,” she said. “Mary.”
A maid who’d entered, carrying the soup course, came to a halt. She managed a brief curtsy, keeping her eyes averted from both Danny and the display on the other side of the room. “Marm.”
“Mary, how long have you worked in this household?” Danny studied her, and Dev didn’t think she was missing anything, from the woman’s sudden pallor, to the tremor that ran through her fingers on the grip of the tray.
“About ten years, ma’am.”
“Did you like my mother?”
The maid’s gaze darted up, then over to Ian.
“Answer the question,” he barked at her.
The tray wobbled, then steadied. “Y-yes, my lady. She was very . . . kind.”
“Even when Ian, tiring of my mother’s melancholy, chose you over her to warm his bed, to spend his seed in your cunt?”
Ian’s gaze narrowed. “I didn’t . . .”
“It’s all right, Ian.” Danny waved a dismissive hand. “I know it’s difficult to deal with a vampire with the Ennui. Though perhaps it gave Mary some delusions of grandeur for a while, I’m sure you reminded her of her place.” She turned her attention back to the hapless maid and spoke, almost gently. “Did my mother ever draw you into her lonely bed, trying to absorb a modicum of the heat that Ian left vibrating on your skin?”
The young woman’s face flushed, confirming the truth.
“You are most provocative in your choice of dinner entertainments,” Ruskin commented in a neutral tone.
“Ah, Lord Charles.” Danny leveled an amused glance on him, gesturing to Mary to distribute what was on her tray. “You should go to Sydney sometime. See the glittering shows that can be put on there by the Region Master, Lady Elwyn. My favorite night was when she had a dappled Percheron brought into the very dining room, a mare with ribbons twined into her mane and tail. Those ribbons were woven around the servant she had strapped high on the mare’s back, the straight line of her spine aligned with the creature’s neck, held in place with a bearing rein. She was a very petite thing, this servant, a lovely Irish girl with flame red hair and fair skin.”
Danny closed her eyes, remembering, her lips still curved. But as Mary put the last bowl at her setting, Danny reached out unerringly, clasped her wrist, held her there. The girl jumped, almost spilling the soup, then held still, her gaze flashing to Dev’s face and then back to Danny’s hand, holding her fast.
“He’d brushed the girl’s hands and feet with a glittering silver and black paint,” Danny continued. “Wherever she pressed the soles of her feet or clutched at the animal in arousal or distress, it left beautiful marks. Her backside was positioned onto a sizable saddle pommel, holding her anchored. Legs spread and bound around the mare’s girth. Each vampire used a polished wooden set of stairs to mount the horse and put his pommel, so to speak, inside her, when it pleased him or her to do so. Periodically, her hands were redipped, and the horse walked about the room to display her, as well as to keep the poor creature from getting fractious. When they let the mare’s head down from the bearing rein, the servant’s body was stretched out further. She cried out in a lovely way, because, of course, the pommel was designed to shift with her, create a different discomfort and pleasure at once. It was delicious, the perfume of the girl’s arousal mingling with our dinner in a most stimulating way.”
“I’ve seen such provincial performances. Like carnival side-shows.” Lord Charles shrugged. “Tanks of sea snakes, where a vampire may enter the water to feel their bodies twine around your limbs, slither across your bare skin. Quite affectionate creatures, but venomous. We had far better entertainments in the mother country.”
“I find that hard to believe. I’ve been to England, and they are far less imaginative than the Australians.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink, lessening the barb. “Go to Sydney, Lord Charles. You won’t regret it. But for now, we shall make do, won’t we?” Her gaze shifted to Mary, still helplessly manacled to her.
My lady, she’s trembling. You’re frightening her.
She will not be harmed, Dev. No more than she deserves. Do not worry for her.
On that less than comforting thought, Danny rose in a rustle of taffeta. “Go stand with Chiyoko and Aapti,” she ordered. As Mary complied, Danny circled the other side of the table, moving behind Ian’s chair. Letting a white-gloved hand trail along the chair back, she brushed his shoulder, giving him an amused look and Charles a speculative one as she made her way to the women.
Mary waited between the two servants, her head bowed, lips pressed together. Dev wasn’t sure, but he thought her perilously close to tears. He didn’t like this, though he held his tongue, waiting to see what his capricious sheila had in mind. But it was an effort.
“Easy, dear maid. You shall only give us pleasure tonight.” Danny stopped beside her. She was about three inches taller, but the stature difference had nothing to do with which of them had greater height. “The first task shall be easy. Kiss me, Mary. Do your best. Imagine I am who you love best here. I will discern who it is.”
Mary swallowed as Lord Charles’s and Ian’s attention sharpened like the end of a spear, pointed toward the four women.
Dev was as riveted as either male vampire as Mary lifted her face and awkwardly pressed her lips to his lady’s mouth, her hands fluttering nervously, alighting in tense fists just short of Danny’s body, the maid obviously uncertain if touch would be welcome.