The deposed Deamone prince reveled in the way Jacqueline Triean’s legs went tight around his waist as he groaned into her neck. She clearly took care to maintain her physique…he would have had much less use for her over the years if she hadn’t. Her supple, lean body felt good against his hardened one. It was even better when it was under him for the purposes of alleviating his frustration. His warm, soft lips trailed down her collarbone to the full, lushness of her breasts and finally the hardened buds of her nipples. With a wry grin he circled one with his tongue, the other caught and flicked back and forth between this thumb and forefinger. “It has been far too long, Madam Triean.”
“My Lord?” Called Milina’s voice from outside the heavy door that barred her entry into his bedchamber. “Master Rubin has arrived…”
Duncan rolled his eyes and pulled back. He grasped one of Jaqueline’s aforementioned legs and drew it lazily over his shoulder. As his hands ran down from her breasts, sides, hips, thighs and up her long legs her resounding moan brought a soft smile to his lips. “And far too short.” His eyes focused onto hers, he let his cheek slide back down until his mouth brushed against the crook of her thighs. “You can see yourself out I trust?” He murmured never once breaking eye contact even as his tongue slid further…and further down…
…
One quick shower, assisted by some lovely new maids from the south later and Duncan Deamone was walking through the servant’s quarters with his most loyal (male) assistant. The ignorable, black and grey clad background-people tended to drop into a bow or avert their eyes at the sight of their former leader. Now, he was given only as much respect as any elected Lord would have – it disgusted him that some thought that was all he deserved.
“Milina tells me the boy has not yet mastered any of his powers. That he’s a failure in matters of history, politics and protocol and that his most redeeming quality is that he tries hard.”
It wasn’t a question so much as a complaint. Not one for the boy’s tutor and future-guard, but for the boy himself. Thus far he had proven himself unworthy of bearing the Deamone name, the money that had been funneled into his education and preparation. For a blip of a second he found himself wishing that he could feel secure in bringing Helen out of the shadows…maybe then he’d have an heir worthy of succession. But no – he needed his precious trump card in case the boy proved an even greater failure than he already was. After all, as the older twin she had a greater claim. He had only presented the boy as the eldest to ensure a male succession. Suddenly, that seemed much less important that ensuring a competent and loyal puppet.
“He’s weak. And he will need to be guarded carefully lest he fall to the…influences of that place. You’ve gotten my notes on whom he is to avoid. The halfbreed bitch, the blood traitor guard, the headmistress are all to have as little contact with him as possible. And remember. You are to avoid the Arre woman, but take care not to agitate her. It would be more trouble than its worth.”
“Yes, My lord.”
“You’re a good man, Rubin. Better than most and that is why I’m trusting you with this duty. I would not part with you for anything less. I don’t enjoy being surrounded by imbeciles.” To prove his point he waved his hands around the room, sending nervous maids scurrying like roaches. They’d ended up in the receiving rooms – where large packages were inspected and sent through the palace to suit their various purposes. It was also just the place to serve his.
“But you’ll be needing some brute strength. Perhaps more brute than strength. You’re well trained and you could handle a muscle man on your own…of that there is no doubt. But it is far more difficult to watch over someone else and yourself than it is only yourself. We need someone dumb and strong that can be manipulated easily. A pliable fool…”
“I need carry more…da?” Asked a large, mountain of a man as he jumped out of the back of a delivery truck with what appeared to be seven sides of beef balanced on two wide shoulders.
Duncan didn’t have to say a word. “I’ll have him checked, my Lord. If he’s suitable he will be briefed and prepared by tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll hold you to that Rubin. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Duncan’s lip curled in disgust. “I’ve a son to see.”
…
He appeared to be struggling through a lesson with Milina on the history of past Deamone rulers. While the names came easily enough – he didn’t appear to realize that each had their own political leanings that lessons that could be learnt from them.
“Nevermind the damn dead Kings.” Duncan declared, pasting a gentle smile on his face. The boy cared for these ridiculous displays of affections. Small touches and smiles that made him feel loved. Whatever it took…Duncan’s inner voice snorted as he strode over to clasp his son’s shoulder.
“How are you, Prince Hayden…son? I hear you’ve made some wonderful progress! Soon you will be in Licia school making Deamone proud. I could not be a happier father to a more worthy son.”
The glistening look of admiration and love almost made Duncan gag. …Whatever it takes….He reminded himself.