“Do you think… do you think that if he left, he might take me with him?”
“No,” Rummel said harshly, but his eyes were sympathetic. “He’ll think he’s on his way to bigger and better things.”
Joan turned back to fix herself some tea, trying to hide her shaky hands. If Ukhaan left, that meant his right-hand man, Baahy, would take over. Baahy had no interest in her cooking. He had already made it all too clear what her role would be if he was in charge. Fortunately, Ukhaan neither liked nor trusted Baahy, and he had forbidden the male from approaching her. She had been foolish enough to think that meant she enjoyed some level of protection, but given how easily Ukhaan had sent her with Varga, she now realized how wrong she had been.
“What about the stranger?” Rummel asked after they sat in silence, sipping their tea.
“What about him?”
He peered at her from beneath bushy white eyebrows. “Is he interested in you?”
Heat suffused her face as she remembered this morning kiss.
“That looks like a yes. Maybe you should encourage him.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be stupid, girlie. A rich stranger in a luxury yacht. You could do a lot worse.”
“Indeed she could.”
The deep voice rolled over her, and she couldn’t suppress a spark of excitement. Unwanted excitement, she told herself firmly.
“I’m sorry, Master Varga,” she said as she sprang to her feet. “I should not have been gossiping.”
“I believe your companion was doing the gossiping.”
“No! It’s not his fault.” Forgetting herself, she looked up and their eyes met. He didn’t look angry. He looked amused, but the longer they looked at each other, the more the amusement was replaced by heat. She finally managed to drag her gaze away.
“Would you like something to eat? Or drink?” she added hastily as she remembered their discussion of the previous night.
From the deep chuckle that answered her, she suspected that he remembered as well.
“Although I am extremely tempted, Ukhaan wishes to show me the operations before breakfast. Perhaps just a mug of cafir?”
Pouring him a mug, she gathered her courage and came close enough to give it to him. Their fingers touched as she handed it to him. She suspected that it was a deliberate move on his part, but that didn’t stop a rush of heat from moving through her body and she leaped away from him.
An awkward silence fell over the kitchen, although Varga didn’t seem to be affected. He leaned against the doorframe, sipping his cafir and glancing around. Rummel had looked nervous when the big male arrived, but now his eyes glittered with amusement. She did her best to ignore them both as she pulled a tray of muffins out of the oven.
“What are those?” Varga asked.
“I call them corn muffins.” Not that she had corn, of course, but one of the plants in the greenhouse produced small kernels that were surprisingly similar. The muffins were based on a heavily adapted recipe of her grandmother’s and always made her remember those long-ago days cooking with the older woman.
“Would you like one?” she found herself asking.
He nodded. She put two on the plate for him and, with a quick look at him, slid one in front of Rummel. Varga didn’t object, too busy devouring the muffins. When he was done, he looked so hopeful that she silently handed him two more. In less than five minutes, he and Rummel had finished the entire pan. Oh well. She could always make more.
“Those were delicious,” he said with a regretful glance at the empty pan.
“And now they’re gone. Perhaps you should be also?”
He grinned and sauntered over to where she was standing. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body against her front even though they weren’t quite touching. He bent down and she waited, half-anticipating, half-dreading his kiss. But all he did was whisper in her ear.
“As delicious as they were, I still suspect that you would be even more delicious.” She couldn’t suppress a quiet gasp, and he was still grinning when he turned to go. “I look forward to our next… meal.”
For such a big male, he moved with surprising speed, vanishing from the kitchen before she could think of a response.
“Doesn’t look like he’s gonna need much encouragement,” Rummel said dryly.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her cheeks were heating again, but she ignored them and started on a second batch of muffins.
“You could do worse.”
“Maybe he’s just being nice until he gets what he wants.”
Rummel gave a disgusted grunt. “Girlie, you’re a slave. He can get whatever he wants whenever he wants it.”
“I know,” she whispered. The knowledge was always there, but it was easier to ignore when she was busy in the kitchen.
His expression softened, and he gave her shoulder a brusque pat as he jumped down from the table. “Better get going.”
“Here.” Abandoning the muffins, she hurried over to a storage cabinet and pulled out a small bag. “These are for the other women.”
“One of these days, I’m gonna get caught,” he complained, but he took the bag and slipped it inside his shirt. “Or you are.”
“I know it’s a risk, but it’s the least I can do.”
The knowledge of the other female slaves haunted her. She could so easily be in their position. When she realized that Rummel had a fair amount of freedom to move around, she had asked him to take extra food to the females. He had grumbled but agreed.
So far, Ukhaan hadn’t noticed the small increase in her use of the food supplies. While he kept a close eye on the more expensive food items, he didn’t bother about the
