Mr. Templeton-Rath nodded, chuckling along.
“Rath,” Jasper said, continuing to just echo words at them like a damned parakeet. “I didn’t realize there was a separate Rath family. Not until I’d met you.”
“Yes, the Raths and Templetons were business partners long before we became a single family,” Mrs. Templeton-Rath said,her posture straightening with pride. “My union with John only cemented what was already there.”
“And it’s not every day a man gets to take his wife’s name,” Mr. Templeton-Rath added, crossing the room to kiss his wife’s hand. “I am simply lucky that way.”
Both young women made a noise of distaste at the display.
“Are we still awaiting the other guest?” Mr. Rath asked, glancing around. “I see no princess in our midst.”
“Then you are not looking hard enough,” his daughter said, batting her lashes at him, which won a round of laughter from the family.
Jasper wondered if he could just have dinner with Squalor and Hubris and escape before any further conversation might unfold and churn his insides.
Which, naturally, was the exact moment that Libba arrived.
He could hear the commotion as they were ushered inside, the butler calling out her name. “Princess Xandine of the Bedouai,” he chirped. “Accompanied by her manservant.”
“My guard,” came Libba’s voice, silky smooth and lightly accented. “He is no servant.”
Jasper did his best not to make any noises of distress and stood, ready to receive her, however she had decided to appear tonight.
He braced, and the bracing still was not enough for what appeared around the corner as they were shown into the little salon.
She appeared in Lem’s shadow, glinting like she’d oiled her skin with liquid gold, her hair spiraling down her back and over her arms. Her body was wrapped tightly in sumptuous, jewel-toned fabric that separated at her side, giving the faintest, most devastating hint of the round anchor of her hipbone. Her eyes were smudged with a sooty aura and her lips were glossy and vibrantly peach colored.
He forgot to breathe.
He stared.
But at least everyone else was staring too.
Lem stood rigidly next to her, his arms clasped behind his back, and surveyed the room as though he truly were a bodyguard, seeking out flickers of danger.
Which, of course, filled Jasper with alarm when those dark eyes passed over him and then lingered, just a touch too long, as though he were really the only element in the room that presented a threat.
“Gracious, look at us, gawking like hens,” said Mrs. Templeton-Rath, elbowing her husband and brother-in-law in one elegant sweep of her arms as she walked out from between them and extended both hands toward Libba. “Welcome to our home, Princess. And who is this you’ve brought with you?”
“My personal guard,” said Libba, her lips curling up in a feline smile as she accepted the hands of the other woman. “A warrior from my homeland. You may call him ‘Lem.’”
“Greetings, Mr. Lem,” said the mistress of the house without missing a breath. “You must join us for dinner. I shall have another place prepared.”
“I’ll do it,” said her niece, breathless and wide-eyed, not for Xandine, but for her warrior companion. “I’ll do it right now.”
“Very well,” said Lem, his eyes dragging off of Jasper to land on Miss Rath and widening just a touch in surprise. “Thank you.”
Miss Rath released a throaty, little sound and dashed off to see to her business.
Behind her, Jasper noticed his crumpled flowers now sat in a glass vase in the entryway.
“I am very intrigued to hear of your homeland, my lady,” said Mr. Rath, coming forward to introduce himself. “I have traveledthe coast of Africa many times but have not often gone north. Tell me, where is your homeland?”
“A complex question, good sir,” Libba replied, accepting his handshake by lifting her knuckles toward his lips with a flirtatious lowering of her lashes. “My people are nomadic by nature, but our capital and the city of my birth is a small island, to the east of Old Nubia.”
Mr. Rath looked intrigued and accepted the invitation to kiss her hand.
Jasper suddenly wanted to get into another fist fight.
