Erato's Edge - Chapter 3
Title: Erato's Edge - Chapter 3
Pairing: Kara/Laura, ultimately, but If I list all pairings your brains would go splode.
Characters: Just about everyone.
Rating: R
Summary: My vision of Victorian Era Caprica. Kara is a lowly painter and Laura Roslin is a distinguished noble. Their relationship forms when Laura buys one of Kara's paintings at auction and Lady Roslin invites Kara to a ball. It's love in first sight for Laura but unfortunately for her, it appears Kara's heart is already taken by a young man named Sam.
This chapter: What better way to introduce epic back story about Laura's former lover than with elaborate sexings.
Notes: Frak me, that took for ever. So I continue to indulge my guilty pleasure for obscure pairings (threesomes!) and bring you a longer chapter to make up for the unreasonable wait between this and the last chapter. Hopefully things move faster now.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2
Seas of people rolled to the edges of Delphi’s main street, voices clamoring for the clouds as a squadron of Vipers ripped the sky like comets. Kara scouted a path, weaving and winding her way where she could. Not because she wanted to get closer, but because it seemed never to end, and the energy crackling off the tightly packed bodies was exhilarating.
She dragged Sam behind her, and could barely hear how he laughed trying to keep up. Finally he had to tug her still and catch her in his arms and when they kissed there was an eruption of cheers. The parade had turned the corner into the main street and though they could see nothing, they could hear the triumphant music.
Kara had neglected to tell Sam of Lady Roslin’s second invitation, so when he saw the letter from the noble in the basket by the door he would not stop pestering until she let him open it. His whole face flashed with light as he read it in front of her.
“It is an invitation from Lady Roslin to stay on her estate!”
The tiny breath that caught in her throat had the strength to blow her over. When she had accepted Roslin’s invitation to dine with her and the Admiral she had never expected the hospitality that was to be extended to her. It was difficult to coordinate voice and lips to form words.
“F...for how long are we to stay?”
Sam’s eyes darted frantically as he read more of the letter.
“She does not say. But a carriage will arrive tomorrow morning to take us to her estate!”
It was too soon. There was not enough time to prepare and to pack and to learn the proper order of spoons. Kara was so stricken with nerves she had not even realized she was saying these things out loud until Sam grabbed her shoulders.
“Kara! Calm down!” He laughed at her.
“I-I don’t think I can go.”
“Because of the spoons?” He smiled tenderly and eventually she smiled too.
“Don’t make fun.”
“Tell you what. Come out with me today,” his hand brushed over her hair as her arms slipped around his waist. “We’ll go shopping for clothes, and we’ll have a look at the cutlery sets and I’ll teach you about spoons. We’ll practice.”
This surprised her and she pulled back to search his eyes curiously. Sam was doing well before she ever met him but he was hardly middle class.
“And when ever did you learn, Mister Anders?”
He flashed her a charming grin.
“Don’t you know? I am part of a secret society. We gather in the dead of night to practice the art of fine dining and we all wear cravats.”
She let out a burst of air as she smacked dismissively at his chest.
“I always knew you were hiding something from me.”
Their noses touched and all her worries melted away. But her heart was racing once again when the next morning she was watching the sunbaked landscape scurry past the window of a marvelous black carriage.
Her excitement amused Sam. Kara was shuffling eagerly between the two windows, eyes sparkling with the sense of adventure seen in children.
“I’ve never been so far out of the city,” she said, grinning at him. Her emotions were infectious. He could not help but smile as she did, frown as she did, or feel his heart break when she cried.
Kara had not stopped smiling since waking in the morning and Sam was beginning to feel his cheeks ache. He was pleased that she no longer seemed so nervous.
Eventually the brown land swelled with green and flower burst around them. The canopy arching the road was pierced by spears of light. Then, as they reached the end of this glorious corridor, Kara saw a magnificent building embraced in the arms of Gaia herself.
Bricks brown of the earth, lavished with vines, it was alive somehow and Kara felt its heart beating, a pulse against her chest she felt independently of her own heart. The carriage approached, taking its winding road through the gate of a broad wall hidden by overgrowth. They rolled over a bridge and Kara saw a clear stream she followed from one window to the other where it journeyed spiritedly to a rock pool graced by golden leaves.
Kara trembled as the carriage came to a stop and would surely have tumbled from the door had Sam not been there to hold her hand. Her gaze flew ever upward in appraisal of the brilliant estate. This was a place she had only ever dreamed of. One painting had changed her life so dramatically.
“Miss Thrace, Mister Anders.”
The couple turned at the cheery call of their names and together smiled at the young man who approached them. He spotted their luggage and seemed amused.
“You travel light.”
Kara stammered but the young man held up a hand.
“For which I am grateful.” He picked up their suitcases and began up the stairs to the front door. “Follow me.”
Kara felt Sam’s hand on her back as they climbed the stone steps. They passed through the grand double doors and into a warm, open foyer. Natural light gleamed on honeywood floors, stunning portraits decorated the walls, and a large exotic carpet made an island at the foot of a grand staircase.
The young man with their luggage was half way up these stairs when he called for them to keep up.
“Of course,” said Sam.
As Kara followed, she looked about, wondering eagerly and anxiously where Lady Roslin might be. She was uncertain as to what she would say when they would be introduced. She thought regrettably that she should have spent time preparing something to say during the ride to the Estate instead of gawking childishly at the sights.
Her anxiety was forgotten when she was shown to the room in which she and Sam were to stay. Her jaw dropped and she might have accidently uttered a term she was thankful no nobles were around to hear, but did make the servant laugh.
A beautiful rosewood bed with fine embroidered sheets and lavish pillows featured in the room, accompanied by a dark polished dresser adorned with what were surely very expensive bottles. Kara hurried to inspect them. Taking one into her hand, she discovered the contents full. Inside the glittering glass bottle was something worth more than all the buildings in Kara’s street. Did Lady Roslin mean for her to make use of the perfumes?
She set it down carefully and hurried to the window, amazed at the view. Kara pressed her fingers against the glass, feeling the landscape like paint. It sang.
“I trust the room is to your liking,” said the servant.
Kara spun. “Very much.”
“My Lady will be very happy to hear that.”
A pulse beat in Kara’s chest. Tremors tingled all the way to the tips of her fingers. It was silly to think that Lady Roslin had seen to the decoration of the room herself, least of all with Kara in mind. She had to calm down.
“There is a bathroom through that door you may use to freshen up. Your trip must have been long and tiring. I will wait here to take you to the drawing room.”
“Thank you…” Sam said, and the servant looked surprised at the way he waited expectantly.
“James, Sir.”
“Thank you, James. And please, call me Sam.”
“Perhaps in private company I would, Sir, but while we have guests I am duty bound to address you in the proper regal spirit.”
Sam and James shared a laugh. Kara didn’t understand the joke, if it was a joke, but could appreciate Sam’s unfailing kindness. She was amazed at how easily he spoke with everybody, how he always knew exactly what to say and what to do. She felt an overwhelming gratitude for the good fortune of his company while she was to stay at Erato’s Edge.
After freshening up, she and Sam followed James back down the stairs and through the house. Kara could not count how many doors they passed, how many corridors they walked, but they came to a room from which hearty laughter was heard.
James pushed open the glass doors and Kara’s jaw dropped. The room was stunning, with all the classical furnishings one would expect from one as rich as Roslin. What Kara had not expected was the painting that hung pride of place above the mantle.
She could not say what inspired her to paint her. She supposed it was something she overheard during a walk through the market, sensitive to the song of some bard she was not even aware of. Perhaps it was something whispered by the trees.
Artemis was a strong, passionate figure in the scriptures. A skilled warrior, a natural hunter, at once fervidly desired and deeply feared by man. It was curious to behold her gentleness and love for the animals she protected when her savagery was unparalleled.
Kara saw her a lonely figure, and wondered at the pain her heart had suffered. That she chose to hide herself away from the world, deep in the woods. She painted her alone, her strong body silver in the mist of the undergrowth. The Goddess ached, and yearned, but her eyes glowed in defiance. A shadow sculpted into the edge of her lip but even though she painted it, Kara knew nothing of what private thought sparked it.
“Mister Samuel Anders and Miss Kara Thrace.”
Lady Roslin stood from an armchair, drawing the breath slowly from Kara’s lungs as though it were a rope on which she tugged, hand crossing delicate hand. The woman was more beautiful than she remembered.
She had supposed her memories of the noble had been distorted and exaggerated in drink by the time she had stumbled into bed. Here in waking mind, intoxicated by no more than the space between them, Kara was enchanted.
“The guest of honor finally arrives,” said Ellen, swirling ambrosia in her glass. There was a curious light to her eyes as they shifted from Kara to Sam to which the young man responded with a charming smile. “Laura? Will you not bid your guests to sit?”
Kara had not noticed that Lady Roslin had not said a word. She had not noticed that any amount of time had passed in which to make their silence inappropriate.
“Of course.” Roslin extended a hand to the sofa adjacent to one occupied by the Tighs. Kara sat with Sam, finding herself closer to Roslin’s armchair than to the corner where Lord Adar sat between the sofas, between Ellen and Sam.
“You have met the Tighs and Richard Adar of course.”
Kara nodded to them politely and had them nudge their drinks to her in turn. Roslin gestured to the older man who sat in the armchair beside her, a string of smoke rising from the end of a cigar.
“And may I introduce a dear friend of mine, Admiral William Adama.”
Kara nodded to the old man. “It is an honor to meet you, Sir.”
The man puffed a breath of smoke and smiled.
“Please, call me Bill.” He nudged his cigar towards the painting but his gaze never left her. “I understand you are the artist responsible for the treasure gracing the most prestigious of Laura’s wall space.”
Kara resisted glancing up at it, not knowing the consequence of breaking eye contact with an Admiral.
“You are correct.”
Bill huffed and lines of amusement gathered at the corner of his eyes.
“I would be very interested to speak to you about it, share my thoughts with the artist herself.”
“Laura shall want to join you,” said Ellen, a wry smile peeking from behind her glass. “Indeed she has spoken of nothing else but the chance to indulge her own curiosity with our young painter.”
The look Roslin cast to her friend was not something Kara could identify, but there was a touch of friendliness easily recognizable. Roslin turned, then, to James who remained standing dutifully by the glass doors.
“Thank you, James.” she said. He bowed and returned the way he had come, smirking to himself.
He had witnessed a truly delightful display, one he was certain to have to recall in vivid detail lest Diana break open his skull in her urgency to get the information directly from his brain. He saw his Mistress’ breath stolen clean away at the sight of Kara Thrace.
An effort to recover was hindered by the indulgence her eyes took upon the vest and trousers fitting snugly on the girl’s slender frame. She could easily reach for the edge of the armchair and cast it as a pose of refinement, but James saw through it and she did not appreciate the coy smile that grew upon his lips.
Not that her guests would pay attention to the private expressions of a servant boy. But how could he resist the opportunity to tease her in so full a room without a one of them knowing but her.
At the end of the corridor he was pounced upon by Diana and mobbed into a corner by the others.
“Tell us everything.” It was a demand and a warning in the same tone, and the woman was not used to resistance. James just grinned. A chirp from the foyer signaled the phone was ringing and not one of them wished to be the one to have to answer it. As it went unacknowledged for a number of rings, Billy sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “Perhaps it will give me reason to interrupt the party and obtain my own story to tell.”
They had not thought of that.
Laura listened to the chatter of her guests with eyes settled contentedly on Kara. More precisely, she observed longingly the movements of her lips, hoping that no one noticed the way she bit her own.
“Excuse me, m’Lady.”
She was prepared to snap at him until she saw Billy’s innocent face. She soothed and smiled.
“What is it, Billy?”
“Phone call for you. It is Doctor Baltar.”
“Calling to announce his imminent arrival,” Saul grunted, “He presumes we must be anxious about his absence.”
Ellen smacked his arm and smirked. “Your dislike of him makes him all the more charming to me.”
The party laughed at Saul’s uncomfortable frown and Laura regrettably excused herself.
She expected to be accosted on the way to the foyer but it appeared her servants drew from a very deep well of restraint. She reached the phone and pulled the pieces to her ear and mouth.
“Gaius?”
“Laura, my dear, how are you?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I am well.”
“Excellent, excellent. I don’t mean to put you out but I am calling to inform you I will be accompanied this evening by my wife.”
She blinked.
“Your wife?”
“It did slip my mind at our last meeting. I hope this does not inconvenience you too severely.”
“Not at all.” She frowned curiously. How the engagement of Doctor Gaius Baltar eluded her was a might troubling, let alone the occasion of his marriage. “I will have a more suitable room prepared.”
“I am eternally grateful, Laura. I am very eager to introduce you to my wife. We shall be arriving shortly, within the next hour or so. Enough time I hope.”
“My maids should find it adequate.”
“Excellent. Till then.”
“Till then, Gaius.”
She set the pieces on the phone and settled against the wall. The Doctor was a strange fellow. It was likely the couple had eloped. It was not uncommon for Gaius Baltar to pull some manner of stunt to impress a room. He certainly loved to be the center of attention and he would have them entertained with the story of how he came to be married for the better part of his stay.
The idea exhausted Laura and she sighed deeply as she made her way back to the party. It encouraged her a little to think that the distraction would give her more opportunity to admire Kara and that his attachment would make him less likely to occupy her time.
A hand clasped around her mouth and her arm twisted. She barely had the sense of being tugged into an empty room for her body diverted all energy to breaking free of the arms that bound her so tightly. Until she felt fingers caress her hair and heard Margaret hush her gently was she aware just how violently her heart pounded.
Let it not be said that her servants did not keep things interesting. Margaret said nothing more but held her gaze calmly until giving Laura’s captive a nod. The hand came away from her mouth and Margaret came tauntingly close.
“How do you fair m’Lady?” Her hands went straight for Laura’s inner thighs, pushing the fabric of her gown. The breath she released was hot against Margaret’s lips.
Laura could not tell who it was that held her but did not care. Her fright had released more adrenalin than her body knew what to do with and insisted on spending it any way it could. Setting her into a frenzy had been their intention after all.
“Uh, uh.” It was certainly Alex’s voice. His arm braced against her chest when she tried to claim Margaret’s lips. The girl chuckled at the way she whined when she withdrew her hands from her thighs. Laura made some effort to tug and wriggle from Alex’s hold, but the man was much too strong.
She could not deny the moments spent appreciating Kara’s beauty had set her skin ablaze, fires of urgency pinching inconveniently between her legs while Ellen engaged her in accounts of Zarek’s most recent anti-government seminars. She needed to be touched and Margaret was out of reach.
Her free hand stroked down Alex’s thigh and slipped behind her, making the man buck in surprise.
“Devil!” He laughed at her deviance and grabbed both her wrists, pulling her back against his body, well and truly trapping her.
Margaret noted the curl to Laura’s lips before the woman dipped her body, rubbing herself slowly and deliberately against Alex. His head went back and a noise like distant thunder throbbed from his throat.
Impressed at the cunning of her Mistress, and curious to see how Alex would respond, Margaret simply watched. The pride shattered from Laura’s face at the savage attack Alex made with his teeth on her ear. He bit hard and tugged and she yelped in genuine pain. She froze immediately and Margaret shook her head at the sight of them.
Perhaps underestimating Alex’s commitment, Laura expected that an attempt she made to pull from his hold would be allowed. The man bit harder and yanked, bringing her head back at an angle concerning enough she would not try again. She snarled in frustration. If Alex drew blood she would not easily explain it away. The concern was not pain but humiliation.
As Margaret brought herself close to the woman, she could see more clearly the rapid and irregular rise and fall of her chest.
She leaned in closer, making her breath fall against the pale plain of Laura’s neck as she spoke.
“Are you going to behave?”
Her breath quivered and her response was quick. “Yes.”
Margaret lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips against Laura’s neck, raking her nails slowly over her throat. In fascination she felt the contraction of muscles as the noble gulped reflexively.
She drew away again. It was not long before the awkward and painful position and her incapacity to move or to see Margaret drove her to desperation.
“Please. Margaret?” She made the sore mistake of expecting Alex to take pity on her and he bit harder still when she tried again to pull away.
A wail of misery cracked into breath and Margaret realized that somewhere in that moment, Laura had ceased to play along. Her desperation was real. She was starting to panic.
In the effort Laura made to breathe calmly, Margaret was reminded of a similar vision of the woman from years ago. She was taken aboard the Cloud 9 from Aerelon to Caprica, on her way to a new life working for Lady Roslin at Erato’s Edge.
As they prepared for dinner, Margaret eyed herself skeptically in the mirror. The dress she wore was too pale and pretty for her liking but had been a gift from her new Mistress so she did not dare say so. The journey from her farm to the airport had been made in silence. Every attempt Roslin made to be pleasant was met with dismissal or ignored entirely.
Margaret had been determined to hate her, even after her generous offer. She hated all people like her, content in their speeches and their charities that things were being done, so they could live in luxury while the people of Aerelon continued to suffer under the exploitation of the government they insisted to support.
She had never received such an expensive and lavish gift and was now feeling wholly unworthy to be wearing it. She had also never seen her hair so neat and shiny and she was not used to wearing it loose. It fell in modest dark waves about her face and shoulders where she picked at the ends, biting her lip apprehensively.
Lady Roslin came up behind her and before she could protest, was clipping extravagant pearls around her neck. The noble’s hands slipped carefully, deliberately, to hold her shoulders. Margaret could see her eyes admiring her reflection.
“There.” Roslin’s head tilted and a gentle smile touched her lips. “You look beautiful.”
No one had ever called her beautiful before. Her mother insisted she could look beautiful if she would only try. But she liked to work on the farm and had given up the idea as ridiculous.
She’d had admirers of course. Wild and bright eyed boys who liked the sight of her covered in mud. She recognized the look Roslin had in her eyes now, and Margaret felt her face flush furiously.
When Lord Adar came into the room Roslin parted from her quickly. He asked if they were ready and soon they were making their way to the dining hall. Margaret never imagined she would ever step foot in a place so spectacular. She was struck by an impression of gold and grandeur that gleamed regally.
It wasn’t until she was aware of Roslin’s private chuckling that she sensed the way her jaw was obscenely agape. She quickly composed her features in a manner suitable for brooding until she was certain Roslin no longer watched her.
After finishing meals she couldn’t identify nor pronounce, Margaret remained at their table while Adar and Roslin joined in the dancing. Song to song, Margaret found she cared to see nothing else but the vision of her new Mistress, swaying, turning and twirling in the arms of Lord Adar. Despite requests from several young men, most of them military, she rejected the offers to dance in favor of admiring her longer.
Of course, she had convinced herself that this tendency stemmed from passionate loathing, although she couldn’t quite imagine what variety of harm she wished upon the woman in that particular moment. She supposed the only reason she struggled was because she would be letting down her family, as they were depending on the money Roslin would give her.
“You look enthralled.”
If the voice had startled her, the sight of the woman to whom it belonged had the affect of alarming her even more. It was the bold dark uniform that identified her, but Margaret recognized Admiral Cain from the papers. She was an imposing figure, sharp from the edges of her suit to the lines of her face and her eyes pierced with chill.
The woman leered down at her and Margaret was not to detect the barest of amusement tugging the corner of the Admiral’s mouth.
“My men not good enough for you?”
Margaret’s jaw hung uselessly and all she could achieve was pitiful stammering. The Admiral spied the empty seat next to her.
“May I?”
Margaret blinked and stammered some more as Cain sat down, demonstrating that she expected no one, no less this pathetical stammering girl, to object her.
In a silence, Margaret felt her heart pounding. She had already been in trouble with the law once that day and she felt suddenly that all her past misdeeds had appeared written all over her face somehow.
“May I ask your name?” The Admiral’s voice made her jump again.
“M…Margaret.” She fumed irritably that her voice was so quiet. The Admiral narrowed eyes at her. Margaret winced. “Edmondson. Sir.”
The woman’s features would be perpetually stoic for the audience of her crew, but in the presence of this girl she was compelled to permit a smirk.
“Well, Margaret. Edmondson,” she said, emphasizing the pause between her names, “It is a pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Helena.” She leaned forward and Margaret felt her breath catch curiously at the look in her eyes. “I give you permission.”
By the time Margaret felt she could work her voice, Helena was no longer looking at her. Her eyes were cast somewhere across the room. Margaret observed that they looked less sharp and imposing than they had moments ago, and the steel was gone from her, melted by the glow that now radiated softly from her vaguely crimson cheeks.
Curious as to the cause of this drastic change, Margaret followed her gaze. On her first attempt she was arrested by the sight of Lady Roslin once more. The effort it took to draw her eyes away was rewarded in the way that her eyes ended gazing upon her in her second attempt. Margaret was amazed. She would not believe it. Surely she was making some error.
She threw subtle glances to Helena, noting the hand on her thigh, fingers tensing ever so slightly and clutching into the fabric of her pants. Noting, too, the delicate shifting of her lips, sure the tip of her tongue licked behind them.
Eyes on Roslin again, Margaret caught the thrill that leapt in her chest and rustled against her ribs. At once she could recall the looks and the smiles and the affections she had received from the woman since her removal from police custody, and felt herself flush. Her fingers drifted up to the pearls around her neck and her breath quivered.
“You are to work for Lady Roslin, are you not?” Helena asked.
“I am.” Margaret bit her lip, bracing against a second thrill.
Helena smiled and was silent, and for the longest time, all they did was watch Laura dance. It was not until the music slowed, dimmed in tone, and Adar was holding the woman closer than before that the contentedness both Margaret and Helena had enjoyed was pricked with unease.
He kissed her. Margaret did not need to see Roslin’s hands flat against his chest, did not need to observe the force at which their lips parted, to know that this was something that should not have happened.
“Excuse me.” Helena stood and was weaving her way through the crowd as Margaret edged forward in her seat with concern. She heard nothing, but could see Helena approach the couple and place herself protectively beside Roslin. Margaret could see the Admiral and Richard exchange tempered words and challenging looks before the man bowed and excused himself from company.
The women talked, but what they said was unclear. But even from such a distance, the look Helena gave her over Roslin’s shoulder was hard to misinterpret. As she led the noble out of the hall, Helena fixed Margaret with daring eyes and an encouraging smirk and made sure the girl watched as she slipped her hand to the small of Roslin’s back.
Margaret stood from the chair unconsciously, but could not dwell on the shock of it for too long. Rejecting another offer to dance, she made her way out to the lobby where she was just in time to see the two women making their way up the grand staircase. Staying out of sight, she watched them disappear around a corner.
Keeping a turn away from them at all times, Margaret pursued them through lavish corridors until she saw them stop at a door. The corridor ended with a magnificent painting of a vast Leonesean Vineyard and beneath it, Helena pressed Roslin back against the door. She stretched an arm above her and stood in a way that trapped the noble in her gaze.
Margaret peered around the corner just enough to see them, holding her breath as Roslin gasped. She couldn’t be sure why, as she could not see where Helena’s other hand had ventured.
“Stop.”
Helena’s head appeared to tilt. Margaret ducked away as she saw Roslin’s head turn frantically back along the corridor, but she was not spotted.
“Someone will catch us.”
Margaret bit her lip as she watched Helena lean over her, their faces dangerously close. Then Roslin staggered and yelped. Helena had opened the door, and let it fall open an inch before holding it fast. Deep chuckling rumbled down the corridor and Margaret felt it beating against her chest. The women entered the room. Just before closing the door, Helena looked for and spotted Margaret hiding at the corner.
A look of devilish pleasure gleamed in her eyes and then the door closed. Margaret emerged from around the wall and carefully crept along the lush carpet. When she reached the door she found that it was not completely closed. The catch had not completely fallen into the groove. If she leant on it even with little force, it would click open.
She leant against the wall instead and tried to hear what was going on inside, easier to do with the door not quite shut.
“I am sorry I did not come to your rescue sooner.” Helena’s voice was unmistakable. “I confess I was quite happy watching you dance, admiring your beauty from afar.”
“I did not even know you were on board,” said Roslin. Her words were breathless in her joy. “I’ve missed you.”
“Hmm. I’m sure you found ways to cope.”
Margaret pressed herself harder into the wall, straining to hear. She thought she might have missed Roslin’s response but more likely, she had said nothing at all. The voice she heard next was Helena’s.
“You, my dear, have been adding to your collection of sex toys.”
Margaret felt as though a small implosion had gone off in her chest, and it quaked her bones.
“Helena…”
The Admiral chuckled. “You know I don’t mind. A woman like you deserves to be worshipped and I cannot always be there for you. I know you love me.”
“So much. And you’ve been gone for so long. It hurts when I can’t be close to you-”
Then Roslin gasped. Margaret wanted to see why and thought stupidly that if she squinted she could see through the door.
“Feel better?” Helena’s voice purred.
Margaret could hear labored breathing. She wasn’t to hear Roslin’s response. She startled when she heard them moving. There was the sound of another door opening and then she could not hear much at all. She mused that they must have gone into another room.
Margaret loved games. She loved thrills. There wasn’t a challenge in her life she had not met with fierce resolve and the confidence to win. She had not yet lost. Even after tossing garbage over the Caprican Ambassador, it would seem, she had come out on top.
She pushed carefully on the door and slipped inside the room. Tensing her jaw, she eased the door closed again, freezing when it clicked audibly.
It seemed no one, or at the very least, Lady Roslin, did not hear it. Margaret crept through the foyer and followed the muffled sounds of affection to a small corridor that ended with a wide open bedroom door. Quickly, Margaret spun against the wall and grimaced. She held her breath, but again was not noticed. Turning to press her hands against the wall, Margaret spied around the corner.
Helena slinked around Laura’s body and came behind her, hands searching around her hips, smoothing up her ribs. She brushed aside waves of auburn hair to lay kisses along her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck, coaxing the breath from Laura’s lungs again and again.
Margaret watched Helena’s hands disappear behind Laura’s back as the noble hummed and reached over her shoulder, slipping fingers into the Admiral’s hair, lips curling in delight. Helena’s hands came over her shoulders and began to push down the sleeves of her gown. Laura had to bring her arms to her sides so that Helena could slip the garment all the way down her body.
She stood in petticoat and underwear and Helena moved around her body again, taking her time to draw the ribbon tied at her chest to release the knot. Laura giggled in anticipation, jerking her heel in a way that let Helena know she wouldn’t stand being teased much longer. The Admiral chuckled deeply as she let the loose ribbon fall gently against her again.
It was in the way Helena simply stared. In the subtle shift of her brow and lips, Laura’s juvenile grin was a smile of wonderment. Helena was admiring her so innocently and Laura was deeply moved and seemed, to Margaret, suddenly shy.
Helena touched her cheek as the noble turned away, catching her chin as gracefully as she might hold out her fingers to catch a snowflake. The Admiral lifted her face, content to gaze silently while Laura blinked bashfully.
“I’ve been so long with but the memory of you to take to bed every night. And now you are here before me. I hold you. I see you.”
Laura tried to smile but was too much in awe. Margaret couldn’t know why and thought only that Helena Cain was the most charming person she had ever met.
The taller woman smoothed her thumb along Laura’s jaw. Her head tilted as Helena’s fingertips examined with touch every line and curve and swell and plain of her face. Fingers combed her hair, stroked her brow, traced her cheeks and brushed gently across her lashes.
When Helena simply cupped her jaw again and gazed adoringly, Laura and Margaret shared a deep, quivering sigh. Margaret watched, chest throbbing as Helena pressed her lips against Laura’s. Slow, lingering, tender offerings for the woman worthy of worship.
When they finally parted Laura buckled. She steadied herself quickly and Helena chuckled, pleased and flattered that she could have such an effect on her.
“You alright?”
Laura pursed her lips tightly and nodded. “Mm.” The noise she made became purring under the caress of her lover’s hands around her neck.
“Tell me about your new maid.” Helena’s voice was pleasant, a tone more intimate than conversational, but Margaret could detect the mischief Laura did not.
“Her name is Margaret. I found her on Aerelon.”
Helena smiled. She was moving around Laura’s body.
“Farmer.” An observation she made as her hands slipped through Laura’s hair and over her shoulders. A quick shift of her hands, and the petticoat dropped around Laura’s feet.
Margaret stared, captivated by the pale skin of supple breasts. Helena’s hands embraced Laura’s body, cupping them not possessively but as though her touch were a tribute offered to a Goddess, and the noble cooed with approval.
“So tell me. How did this girl win your affection?”
Margaret had been so enthralled by the tender passions on display before her she had almost missed the fluctuation of Helena’s tone. The implication was that she was not the first girl approached by Lady Roslin in such a manner. She wondered if these other girls still worked for her, and if she would meet them on her estate.
“She threw garbage over me.”
Helena snorted with laughter and grinned. “Now that’s a kid I can respect.”
“Hmm,” Laura smiled. She must have expected as much.
“You know,” Helena went on, “She couldn’t keep her eyes off you tonight.”
The smile on Laura’s face trembled uneasily and faded. Margaret pressed into the wall, intrigued by this response and wanting to get closer. Helena sensed her discomfort and looked curious. She came around her but Laura avoided her gaze.
“Whatever’s the matter?” Helena asked.
“Why you insist on teasing me…”
A hand prevented Laura from retreating entirely, and the stronger Helena made her stay, forced her eyes to meet hers. She seemed endeared by her lover’s insecurity.
“Laura, my love. I do not tease you. It is true.”
Margaret felt her breath catch. Laura’s eyes shimmered disbelievingly and seemed on the verge of tears.
“The girl hates me…”
Helena just stroked her cheek. “A thin line, I daresay, she crossed the moment she saw you dance.”
Laura attempted to pull away again, puffing with annoyance but Helena held her fast. “She refused several of my men so she might do nothing but adore you the night long.”
Laura’s eyes were so wide and incredulous she looked to be mad at Helena for contriving to play so cruelly with her feelings. The Admiral merely hugged her and turned Laura’s back to the bedroom doorway. Margaret caught the look in Helena’s eyes, her finger furling in invitation. An accompanying gesture warned her to stay quiet.
Fires ignited in Margaret’s chest, ones that would soon reduce vast plantations to smoldering ash. She couldn’t deny nor resist the desire and crept forward as quietly as she was able. Laura remained sniffing in her lover’s embrace and Margaret felt her heart implode at the thought that she should have a hand in causing her such pain.
“I promise you, I do not lie,” Helena soothed warmly, brushing auburn waves. “The girl is enchanted by you.”
As Laura whined miserably Helena turned her about. Spotting Margaret there, she gasped and tried to turn and hide herself against the Admiral’s body. Helena simply held her shoulders, forcing her to stay facing the girl. Margaret marveled at the way blush bloomed on her chest, neck and face.
Cooing her tenderly, Helena’s hands travelled to Laura’s wrists and, pulling them behind her own body, successfully trapped her lover against her. She quirked her brow, imploring Margaret to approach. The Admiral held this beauty before her as fine a instrument and waited to see what tune she would play.
Sensing her close, Laura dared to open her eyes, spying Margaret anxiously before shutting them tightly again. Her lips pursed tensely and Margaret ached to hear her fret so terribly.
“Please, m’Lady.” Hearing Margaret’s voice made her silent. But the girl still could not stand to see her distress.
She looked to Helena for some kind of direction, and felt emboldened by her encouraging nod. Lady Roslin was beautiful, and inspired Margaret’s hands to move of their own will. Her breath caught at the touch, surprised at the sensation of hot skin against her fingers.
She urged her head to turn, gently, but Laura would not move. She brushed her hair instead, curling it behind her ear and pressed a gentle kiss to her flushed cheek. Laura turned then, eyes shimmering curiously and Margaret smiled. She showed her again that she loved her, brushing her lips with hers and feeling fires licking her skin.
At parting, Laura’s eyes were bright and the curl to her lips was brazen. Margaret could only blink in surprise when Laura’s hands clutched over her ears, and she kissed her fervidly. She could not remember when Helena had released Laura, and when Margeret staggered back, found her retreat was blocked.
Hands fell on her shoulders. Laura growled quietly with lust and Margaret felt the lace tugged at the back of her dress. Helena’s hot breath rolled down her neck and, closing her eyes, she surrendered to the bodies that enveloped her.
Margaret awoke in a room made twilight. Her body sizzled with sensation and she could not bring her thighs together for the ache it caused between her legs. She moaned and tried carefully to sit up. Upon moving her arm, she felt the weight of something draped over it. Curiously, Margaret drew back the sheets, gasping in surprise.
Lady Roslin lay asleep beside her, form sculpted in a pose of hair and limbs that sang of night long passion. What part Margaret played was still a blur and the sight of skin glowing warmly in the dim light made thought impossible.
So enthralled, she had not noticed the figure seated across the room, and she jumped at the sound of her voice. Helena sat reclined in a silk gown, powerful body alight in the glow of the table lantern by which she must have been reading.
Margaret stared, unused to such immodesty. Where Lady Roslin was softness and curves, Admiral Cain was strength and edges, smooth skin stretched tightly over war forged muscles. A voluptuous and devastating beauty chiseled to the design of Artemis, or even by her hands.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I confess I am often overwhelmed by what she makes me feel that afterwards I require a moment to…calm myself.”
The small smile on Helena’s lips made her eyes glitter. Margaret felt her heart paw at her ribs. Her voice would not work at first, but she willed to croak words.
“You did not wake me.”
Helena’s eyes rested on Laura’s sleeping form. The woman was turned away from her, cuddling the space between herself and Margaret with arm and leg, curls of hair trickling over her neck. Margaret gazed upon her too, desires trembling in her hands that begged for touch.
“You are probably wondering what you have got yourself into,” Helena said, smirking.
She was, but she was confused by so much that had happened. Helena’s voice drifted tenderly.
“My dear Laura is a deeply passionate woman. Insatiably so.” Her brow furrowed. “She seems to know no other way to express her feelings than in ways that touch one’s soul.”
Margaret breathed in and held the air in her lungs. She felt it then, a sensation she had been unable to define and until then dismissed it as nerves or her imagination. But it was there, the tingling left by a loving caress but somewhere deep inside. The Admiral spoke true.
“This invariably gets her into trouble.” Helena was not frowning, but Margaret could still see she was pained. She thought of Lord Adar.
“Do not misunderstand. Laura is by no means naïve. She is fiercely intelligent. But she would sooner see the good in someone than conduct herself in a manner more guarded.”
Margaret knew this was a pointed comment and she bowed her head. She heard Helena huff and hoped she did so in amusement. It occurred to her that Helena meant instead of assaulting her with garbage, Margaret may easily have attacked Laura with a knife.
“I am grateful to you.” Helena’s voice was friendly and Margaret did not expect it. She looked up, returning her smirk with bewilderment. “Your little stunt has persuaded Laura to employ more security in her travels, when she has repeatedly dismissed my concerns and told me not to worry.”
Margaret was even more surprised to see the grin spread on her face, and her chuckle seemed lighter.
“I am sorry to have missed it.” Her eyes closed and her head tilted, preferring the sights in her mind. “I can only imagine how she must have looked.”
Margaret felt her own lips pull into a grin. Helena narrowed her eyes.
“I suppose it would be horrid of me to hope it should somehow happen again while I am at liberty to see it.”
Margaret giggled and happily recalled her introduction to Lady Roslin. It made her think of something.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I was wondering,…Sir…”
Helena lifted her hand, touching her jaw and smiling. It was amusing the way the girl could not overcome her instincts.
“Helena,” she encouraged.
“Helena,” Margaret said, and had to catch her breath as there came a stir in her memory of the Admiral’s hot tongue lapping between her legs.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking. I wonder how you and Lady Roslin…” She could not say why her voice trailed. Even as she was asking her question, the Admiral was smiling, broader than perhaps even Helena herself expected.
“A tale indeed.”
Margaret hoped she would tell it.
( Chapter 4 )
Pairing: Kara/Laura, ultimately, but If I list all pairings your brains would go splode.
Characters: Just about everyone.
Rating: R
Summary: My vision of Victorian Era Caprica. Kara is a lowly painter and Laura Roslin is a distinguished noble. Their relationship forms when Laura buys one of Kara's paintings at auction and Lady Roslin invites Kara to a ball. It's love in first sight for Laura but unfortunately for her, it appears Kara's heart is already taken by a young man named Sam.
This chapter: What better way to introduce epic back story about Laura's former lover than with elaborate sexings.
Notes: Frak me, that took for ever. So I continue to indulge my guilty pleasure for obscure pairings (threesomes!) and bring you a longer chapter to make up for the unreasonable wait between this and the last chapter. Hopefully things move faster now.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2
Seas of people rolled to the edges of Delphi’s main street, voices clamoring for the clouds as a squadron of Vipers ripped the sky like comets. Kara scouted a path, weaving and winding her way where she could. Not because she wanted to get closer, but because it seemed never to end, and the energy crackling off the tightly packed bodies was exhilarating.
She dragged Sam behind her, and could barely hear how he laughed trying to keep up. Finally he had to tug her still and catch her in his arms and when they kissed there was an eruption of cheers. The parade had turned the corner into the main street and though they could see nothing, they could hear the triumphant music.
Kara had neglected to tell Sam of Lady Roslin’s second invitation, so when he saw the letter from the noble in the basket by the door he would not stop pestering until she let him open it. His whole face flashed with light as he read it in front of her.
“It is an invitation from Lady Roslin to stay on her estate!”
The tiny breath that caught in her throat had the strength to blow her over. When she had accepted Roslin’s invitation to dine with her and the Admiral she had never expected the hospitality that was to be extended to her. It was difficult to coordinate voice and lips to form words.
“F...for how long are we to stay?”
Sam’s eyes darted frantically as he read more of the letter.
“She does not say. But a carriage will arrive tomorrow morning to take us to her estate!”
It was too soon. There was not enough time to prepare and to pack and to learn the proper order of spoons. Kara was so stricken with nerves she had not even realized she was saying these things out loud until Sam grabbed her shoulders.
“Kara! Calm down!” He laughed at her.
“I-I don’t think I can go.”
“Because of the spoons?” He smiled tenderly and eventually she smiled too.
“Don’t make fun.”
“Tell you what. Come out with me today,” his hand brushed over her hair as her arms slipped around his waist. “We’ll go shopping for clothes, and we’ll have a look at the cutlery sets and I’ll teach you about spoons. We’ll practice.”
This surprised her and she pulled back to search his eyes curiously. Sam was doing well before she ever met him but he was hardly middle class.
“And when ever did you learn, Mister Anders?”
He flashed her a charming grin.
“Don’t you know? I am part of a secret society. We gather in the dead of night to practice the art of fine dining and we all wear cravats.”
She let out a burst of air as she smacked dismissively at his chest.
“I always knew you were hiding something from me.”
Their noses touched and all her worries melted away. But her heart was racing once again when the next morning she was watching the sunbaked landscape scurry past the window of a marvelous black carriage.
Her excitement amused Sam. Kara was shuffling eagerly between the two windows, eyes sparkling with the sense of adventure seen in children.
“I’ve never been so far out of the city,” she said, grinning at him. Her emotions were infectious. He could not help but smile as she did, frown as she did, or feel his heart break when she cried.
Kara had not stopped smiling since waking in the morning and Sam was beginning to feel his cheeks ache. He was pleased that she no longer seemed so nervous.
Eventually the brown land swelled with green and flower burst around them. The canopy arching the road was pierced by spears of light. Then, as they reached the end of this glorious corridor, Kara saw a magnificent building embraced in the arms of Gaia herself.
Bricks brown of the earth, lavished with vines, it was alive somehow and Kara felt its heart beating, a pulse against her chest she felt independently of her own heart. The carriage approached, taking its winding road through the gate of a broad wall hidden by overgrowth. They rolled over a bridge and Kara saw a clear stream she followed from one window to the other where it journeyed spiritedly to a rock pool graced by golden leaves.
Kara trembled as the carriage came to a stop and would surely have tumbled from the door had Sam not been there to hold her hand. Her gaze flew ever upward in appraisal of the brilliant estate. This was a place she had only ever dreamed of. One painting had changed her life so dramatically.
“Miss Thrace, Mister Anders.”
The couple turned at the cheery call of their names and together smiled at the young man who approached them. He spotted their luggage and seemed amused.
“You travel light.”
Kara stammered but the young man held up a hand.
“For which I am grateful.” He picked up their suitcases and began up the stairs to the front door. “Follow me.”
Kara felt Sam’s hand on her back as they climbed the stone steps. They passed through the grand double doors and into a warm, open foyer. Natural light gleamed on honeywood floors, stunning portraits decorated the walls, and a large exotic carpet made an island at the foot of a grand staircase.
The young man with their luggage was half way up these stairs when he called for them to keep up.
“Of course,” said Sam.
As Kara followed, she looked about, wondering eagerly and anxiously where Lady Roslin might be. She was uncertain as to what she would say when they would be introduced. She thought regrettably that she should have spent time preparing something to say during the ride to the Estate instead of gawking childishly at the sights.
Her anxiety was forgotten when she was shown to the room in which she and Sam were to stay. Her jaw dropped and she might have accidently uttered a term she was thankful no nobles were around to hear, but did make the servant laugh.
A beautiful rosewood bed with fine embroidered sheets and lavish pillows featured in the room, accompanied by a dark polished dresser adorned with what were surely very expensive bottles. Kara hurried to inspect them. Taking one into her hand, she discovered the contents full. Inside the glittering glass bottle was something worth more than all the buildings in Kara’s street. Did Lady Roslin mean for her to make use of the perfumes?
She set it down carefully and hurried to the window, amazed at the view. Kara pressed her fingers against the glass, feeling the landscape like paint. It sang.
“I trust the room is to your liking,” said the servant.
Kara spun. “Very much.”
“My Lady will be very happy to hear that.”
A pulse beat in Kara’s chest. Tremors tingled all the way to the tips of her fingers. It was silly to think that Lady Roslin had seen to the decoration of the room herself, least of all with Kara in mind. She had to calm down.
“There is a bathroom through that door you may use to freshen up. Your trip must have been long and tiring. I will wait here to take you to the drawing room.”
“Thank you…” Sam said, and the servant looked surprised at the way he waited expectantly.
“James, Sir.”
“Thank you, James. And please, call me Sam.”
“Perhaps in private company I would, Sir, but while we have guests I am duty bound to address you in the proper regal spirit.”
Sam and James shared a laugh. Kara didn’t understand the joke, if it was a joke, but could appreciate Sam’s unfailing kindness. She was amazed at how easily he spoke with everybody, how he always knew exactly what to say and what to do. She felt an overwhelming gratitude for the good fortune of his company while she was to stay at Erato’s Edge.
After freshening up, she and Sam followed James back down the stairs and through the house. Kara could not count how many doors they passed, how many corridors they walked, but they came to a room from which hearty laughter was heard.
James pushed open the glass doors and Kara’s jaw dropped. The room was stunning, with all the classical furnishings one would expect from one as rich as Roslin. What Kara had not expected was the painting that hung pride of place above the mantle.
She could not say what inspired her to paint her. She supposed it was something she overheard during a walk through the market, sensitive to the song of some bard she was not even aware of. Perhaps it was something whispered by the trees.
Artemis was a strong, passionate figure in the scriptures. A skilled warrior, a natural hunter, at once fervidly desired and deeply feared by man. It was curious to behold her gentleness and love for the animals she protected when her savagery was unparalleled.
Kara saw her a lonely figure, and wondered at the pain her heart had suffered. That she chose to hide herself away from the world, deep in the woods. She painted her alone, her strong body silver in the mist of the undergrowth. The Goddess ached, and yearned, but her eyes glowed in defiance. A shadow sculpted into the edge of her lip but even though she painted it, Kara knew nothing of what private thought sparked it.
“Mister Samuel Anders and Miss Kara Thrace.”
Lady Roslin stood from an armchair, drawing the breath slowly from Kara’s lungs as though it were a rope on which she tugged, hand crossing delicate hand. The woman was more beautiful than she remembered.
She had supposed her memories of the noble had been distorted and exaggerated in drink by the time she had stumbled into bed. Here in waking mind, intoxicated by no more than the space between them, Kara was enchanted.
“The guest of honor finally arrives,” said Ellen, swirling ambrosia in her glass. There was a curious light to her eyes as they shifted from Kara to Sam to which the young man responded with a charming smile. “Laura? Will you not bid your guests to sit?”
Kara had not noticed that Lady Roslin had not said a word. She had not noticed that any amount of time had passed in which to make their silence inappropriate.
“Of course.” Roslin extended a hand to the sofa adjacent to one occupied by the Tighs. Kara sat with Sam, finding herself closer to Roslin’s armchair than to the corner where Lord Adar sat between the sofas, between Ellen and Sam.
“You have met the Tighs and Richard Adar of course.”
Kara nodded to them politely and had them nudge their drinks to her in turn. Roslin gestured to the older man who sat in the armchair beside her, a string of smoke rising from the end of a cigar.
“And may I introduce a dear friend of mine, Admiral William Adama.”
Kara nodded to the old man. “It is an honor to meet you, Sir.”
The man puffed a breath of smoke and smiled.
“Please, call me Bill.” He nudged his cigar towards the painting but his gaze never left her. “I understand you are the artist responsible for the treasure gracing the most prestigious of Laura’s wall space.”
Kara resisted glancing up at it, not knowing the consequence of breaking eye contact with an Admiral.
“You are correct.”
Bill huffed and lines of amusement gathered at the corner of his eyes.
“I would be very interested to speak to you about it, share my thoughts with the artist herself.”
“Laura shall want to join you,” said Ellen, a wry smile peeking from behind her glass. “Indeed she has spoken of nothing else but the chance to indulge her own curiosity with our young painter.”
The look Roslin cast to her friend was not something Kara could identify, but there was a touch of friendliness easily recognizable. Roslin turned, then, to James who remained standing dutifully by the glass doors.
“Thank you, James.” she said. He bowed and returned the way he had come, smirking to himself.
He had witnessed a truly delightful display, one he was certain to have to recall in vivid detail lest Diana break open his skull in her urgency to get the information directly from his brain. He saw his Mistress’ breath stolen clean away at the sight of Kara Thrace.
An effort to recover was hindered by the indulgence her eyes took upon the vest and trousers fitting snugly on the girl’s slender frame. She could easily reach for the edge of the armchair and cast it as a pose of refinement, but James saw through it and she did not appreciate the coy smile that grew upon his lips.
Not that her guests would pay attention to the private expressions of a servant boy. But how could he resist the opportunity to tease her in so full a room without a one of them knowing but her.
At the end of the corridor he was pounced upon by Diana and mobbed into a corner by the others.
“Tell us everything.” It was a demand and a warning in the same tone, and the woman was not used to resistance. James just grinned. A chirp from the foyer signaled the phone was ringing and not one of them wished to be the one to have to answer it. As it went unacknowledged for a number of rings, Billy sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “Perhaps it will give me reason to interrupt the party and obtain my own story to tell.”
They had not thought of that.
Laura listened to the chatter of her guests with eyes settled contentedly on Kara. More precisely, she observed longingly the movements of her lips, hoping that no one noticed the way she bit her own.
“Excuse me, m’Lady.”
She was prepared to snap at him until she saw Billy’s innocent face. She soothed and smiled.
“What is it, Billy?”
“Phone call for you. It is Doctor Baltar.”
“Calling to announce his imminent arrival,” Saul grunted, “He presumes we must be anxious about his absence.”
Ellen smacked his arm and smirked. “Your dislike of him makes him all the more charming to me.”
The party laughed at Saul’s uncomfortable frown and Laura regrettably excused herself.
She expected to be accosted on the way to the foyer but it appeared her servants drew from a very deep well of restraint. She reached the phone and pulled the pieces to her ear and mouth.
“Gaius?”
“Laura, my dear, how are you?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “I am well.”
“Excellent, excellent. I don’t mean to put you out but I am calling to inform you I will be accompanied this evening by my wife.”
She blinked.
“Your wife?”
“It did slip my mind at our last meeting. I hope this does not inconvenience you too severely.”
“Not at all.” She frowned curiously. How the engagement of Doctor Gaius Baltar eluded her was a might troubling, let alone the occasion of his marriage. “I will have a more suitable room prepared.”
“I am eternally grateful, Laura. I am very eager to introduce you to my wife. We shall be arriving shortly, within the next hour or so. Enough time I hope.”
“My maids should find it adequate.”
“Excellent. Till then.”
“Till then, Gaius.”
She set the pieces on the phone and settled against the wall. The Doctor was a strange fellow. It was likely the couple had eloped. It was not uncommon for Gaius Baltar to pull some manner of stunt to impress a room. He certainly loved to be the center of attention and he would have them entertained with the story of how he came to be married for the better part of his stay.
The idea exhausted Laura and she sighed deeply as she made her way back to the party. It encouraged her a little to think that the distraction would give her more opportunity to admire Kara and that his attachment would make him less likely to occupy her time.
A hand clasped around her mouth and her arm twisted. She barely had the sense of being tugged into an empty room for her body diverted all energy to breaking free of the arms that bound her so tightly. Until she felt fingers caress her hair and heard Margaret hush her gently was she aware just how violently her heart pounded.
Let it not be said that her servants did not keep things interesting. Margaret said nothing more but held her gaze calmly until giving Laura’s captive a nod. The hand came away from her mouth and Margaret came tauntingly close.
“How do you fair m’Lady?” Her hands went straight for Laura’s inner thighs, pushing the fabric of her gown. The breath she released was hot against Margaret’s lips.
Laura could not tell who it was that held her but did not care. Her fright had released more adrenalin than her body knew what to do with and insisted on spending it any way it could. Setting her into a frenzy had been their intention after all.
“Uh, uh.” It was certainly Alex’s voice. His arm braced against her chest when she tried to claim Margaret’s lips. The girl chuckled at the way she whined when she withdrew her hands from her thighs. Laura made some effort to tug and wriggle from Alex’s hold, but the man was much too strong.
She could not deny the moments spent appreciating Kara’s beauty had set her skin ablaze, fires of urgency pinching inconveniently between her legs while Ellen engaged her in accounts of Zarek’s most recent anti-government seminars. She needed to be touched and Margaret was out of reach.
Her free hand stroked down Alex’s thigh and slipped behind her, making the man buck in surprise.
“Devil!” He laughed at her deviance and grabbed both her wrists, pulling her back against his body, well and truly trapping her.
Margaret noted the curl to Laura’s lips before the woman dipped her body, rubbing herself slowly and deliberately against Alex. His head went back and a noise like distant thunder throbbed from his throat.
Impressed at the cunning of her Mistress, and curious to see how Alex would respond, Margaret simply watched. The pride shattered from Laura’s face at the savage attack Alex made with his teeth on her ear. He bit hard and tugged and she yelped in genuine pain. She froze immediately and Margaret shook her head at the sight of them.
Perhaps underestimating Alex’s commitment, Laura expected that an attempt she made to pull from his hold would be allowed. The man bit harder and yanked, bringing her head back at an angle concerning enough she would not try again. She snarled in frustration. If Alex drew blood she would not easily explain it away. The concern was not pain but humiliation.
As Margaret brought herself close to the woman, she could see more clearly the rapid and irregular rise and fall of her chest.
She leaned in closer, making her breath fall against the pale plain of Laura’s neck as she spoke.
“Are you going to behave?”
Her breath quivered and her response was quick. “Yes.”
Margaret lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips against Laura’s neck, raking her nails slowly over her throat. In fascination she felt the contraction of muscles as the noble gulped reflexively.
She drew away again. It was not long before the awkward and painful position and her incapacity to move or to see Margaret drove her to desperation.
“Please. Margaret?” She made the sore mistake of expecting Alex to take pity on her and he bit harder still when she tried again to pull away.
A wail of misery cracked into breath and Margaret realized that somewhere in that moment, Laura had ceased to play along. Her desperation was real. She was starting to panic.
In the effort Laura made to breathe calmly, Margaret was reminded of a similar vision of the woman from years ago. She was taken aboard the Cloud 9 from Aerelon to Caprica, on her way to a new life working for Lady Roslin at Erato’s Edge.
As they prepared for dinner, Margaret eyed herself skeptically in the mirror. The dress she wore was too pale and pretty for her liking but had been a gift from her new Mistress so she did not dare say so. The journey from her farm to the airport had been made in silence. Every attempt Roslin made to be pleasant was met with dismissal or ignored entirely.
Margaret had been determined to hate her, even after her generous offer. She hated all people like her, content in their speeches and their charities that things were being done, so they could live in luxury while the people of Aerelon continued to suffer under the exploitation of the government they insisted to support.
She had never received such an expensive and lavish gift and was now feeling wholly unworthy to be wearing it. She had also never seen her hair so neat and shiny and she was not used to wearing it loose. It fell in modest dark waves about her face and shoulders where she picked at the ends, biting her lip apprehensively.
Lady Roslin came up behind her and before she could protest, was clipping extravagant pearls around her neck. The noble’s hands slipped carefully, deliberately, to hold her shoulders. Margaret could see her eyes admiring her reflection.
“There.” Roslin’s head tilted and a gentle smile touched her lips. “You look beautiful.”
No one had ever called her beautiful before. Her mother insisted she could look beautiful if she would only try. But she liked to work on the farm and had given up the idea as ridiculous.
She’d had admirers of course. Wild and bright eyed boys who liked the sight of her covered in mud. She recognized the look Roslin had in her eyes now, and Margaret felt her face flush furiously.
When Lord Adar came into the room Roslin parted from her quickly. He asked if they were ready and soon they were making their way to the dining hall. Margaret never imagined she would ever step foot in a place so spectacular. She was struck by an impression of gold and grandeur that gleamed regally.
It wasn’t until she was aware of Roslin’s private chuckling that she sensed the way her jaw was obscenely agape. She quickly composed her features in a manner suitable for brooding until she was certain Roslin no longer watched her.
After finishing meals she couldn’t identify nor pronounce, Margaret remained at their table while Adar and Roslin joined in the dancing. Song to song, Margaret found she cared to see nothing else but the vision of her new Mistress, swaying, turning and twirling in the arms of Lord Adar. Despite requests from several young men, most of them military, she rejected the offers to dance in favor of admiring her longer.
Of course, she had convinced herself that this tendency stemmed from passionate loathing, although she couldn’t quite imagine what variety of harm she wished upon the woman in that particular moment. She supposed the only reason she struggled was because she would be letting down her family, as they were depending on the money Roslin would give her.
“You look enthralled.”
If the voice had startled her, the sight of the woman to whom it belonged had the affect of alarming her even more. It was the bold dark uniform that identified her, but Margaret recognized Admiral Cain from the papers. She was an imposing figure, sharp from the edges of her suit to the lines of her face and her eyes pierced with chill.
The woman leered down at her and Margaret was not to detect the barest of amusement tugging the corner of the Admiral’s mouth.
“My men not good enough for you?”
Margaret’s jaw hung uselessly and all she could achieve was pitiful stammering. The Admiral spied the empty seat next to her.
“May I?”
Margaret blinked and stammered some more as Cain sat down, demonstrating that she expected no one, no less this pathetical stammering girl, to object her.
In a silence, Margaret felt her heart pounding. She had already been in trouble with the law once that day and she felt suddenly that all her past misdeeds had appeared written all over her face somehow.
“May I ask your name?” The Admiral’s voice made her jump again.
“M…Margaret.” She fumed irritably that her voice was so quiet. The Admiral narrowed eyes at her. Margaret winced. “Edmondson. Sir.”
The woman’s features would be perpetually stoic for the audience of her crew, but in the presence of this girl she was compelled to permit a smirk.
“Well, Margaret. Edmondson,” she said, emphasizing the pause between her names, “It is a pleasure to meet you. And please, call me Helena.” She leaned forward and Margaret felt her breath catch curiously at the look in her eyes. “I give you permission.”
By the time Margaret felt she could work her voice, Helena was no longer looking at her. Her eyes were cast somewhere across the room. Margaret observed that they looked less sharp and imposing than they had moments ago, and the steel was gone from her, melted by the glow that now radiated softly from her vaguely crimson cheeks.
Curious as to the cause of this drastic change, Margaret followed her gaze. On her first attempt she was arrested by the sight of Lady Roslin once more. The effort it took to draw her eyes away was rewarded in the way that her eyes ended gazing upon her in her second attempt. Margaret was amazed. She would not believe it. Surely she was making some error.
She threw subtle glances to Helena, noting the hand on her thigh, fingers tensing ever so slightly and clutching into the fabric of her pants. Noting, too, the delicate shifting of her lips, sure the tip of her tongue licked behind them.
Eyes on Roslin again, Margaret caught the thrill that leapt in her chest and rustled against her ribs. At once she could recall the looks and the smiles and the affections she had received from the woman since her removal from police custody, and felt herself flush. Her fingers drifted up to the pearls around her neck and her breath quivered.
“You are to work for Lady Roslin, are you not?” Helena asked.
“I am.” Margaret bit her lip, bracing against a second thrill.
Helena smiled and was silent, and for the longest time, all they did was watch Laura dance. It was not until the music slowed, dimmed in tone, and Adar was holding the woman closer than before that the contentedness both Margaret and Helena had enjoyed was pricked with unease.
He kissed her. Margaret did not need to see Roslin’s hands flat against his chest, did not need to observe the force at which their lips parted, to know that this was something that should not have happened.
“Excuse me.” Helena stood and was weaving her way through the crowd as Margaret edged forward in her seat with concern. She heard nothing, but could see Helena approach the couple and place herself protectively beside Roslin. Margaret could see the Admiral and Richard exchange tempered words and challenging looks before the man bowed and excused himself from company.
The women talked, but what they said was unclear. But even from such a distance, the look Helena gave her over Roslin’s shoulder was hard to misinterpret. As she led the noble out of the hall, Helena fixed Margaret with daring eyes and an encouraging smirk and made sure the girl watched as she slipped her hand to the small of Roslin’s back.
Margaret stood from the chair unconsciously, but could not dwell on the shock of it for too long. Rejecting another offer to dance, she made her way out to the lobby where she was just in time to see the two women making their way up the grand staircase. Staying out of sight, she watched them disappear around a corner.
Keeping a turn away from them at all times, Margaret pursued them through lavish corridors until she saw them stop at a door. The corridor ended with a magnificent painting of a vast Leonesean Vineyard and beneath it, Helena pressed Roslin back against the door. She stretched an arm above her and stood in a way that trapped the noble in her gaze.
Margaret peered around the corner just enough to see them, holding her breath as Roslin gasped. She couldn’t be sure why, as she could not see where Helena’s other hand had ventured.
“Stop.”
Helena’s head appeared to tilt. Margaret ducked away as she saw Roslin’s head turn frantically back along the corridor, but she was not spotted.
“Someone will catch us.”
Margaret bit her lip as she watched Helena lean over her, their faces dangerously close. Then Roslin staggered and yelped. Helena had opened the door, and let it fall open an inch before holding it fast. Deep chuckling rumbled down the corridor and Margaret felt it beating against her chest. The women entered the room. Just before closing the door, Helena looked for and spotted Margaret hiding at the corner.
A look of devilish pleasure gleamed in her eyes and then the door closed. Margaret emerged from around the wall and carefully crept along the lush carpet. When she reached the door she found that it was not completely closed. The catch had not completely fallen into the groove. If she leant on it even with little force, it would click open.
She leant against the wall instead and tried to hear what was going on inside, easier to do with the door not quite shut.
“I am sorry I did not come to your rescue sooner.” Helena’s voice was unmistakable. “I confess I was quite happy watching you dance, admiring your beauty from afar.”
“I did not even know you were on board,” said Roslin. Her words were breathless in her joy. “I’ve missed you.”
“Hmm. I’m sure you found ways to cope.”
Margaret pressed herself harder into the wall, straining to hear. She thought she might have missed Roslin’s response but more likely, she had said nothing at all. The voice she heard next was Helena’s.
“You, my dear, have been adding to your collection of sex toys.”
Margaret felt as though a small implosion had gone off in her chest, and it quaked her bones.
“Helena…”
The Admiral chuckled. “You know I don’t mind. A woman like you deserves to be worshipped and I cannot always be there for you. I know you love me.”
“So much. And you’ve been gone for so long. It hurts when I can’t be close to you-”
Then Roslin gasped. Margaret wanted to see why and thought stupidly that if she squinted she could see through the door.
“Feel better?” Helena’s voice purred.
Margaret could hear labored breathing. She wasn’t to hear Roslin’s response. She startled when she heard them moving. There was the sound of another door opening and then she could not hear much at all. She mused that they must have gone into another room.
Margaret loved games. She loved thrills. There wasn’t a challenge in her life she had not met with fierce resolve and the confidence to win. She had not yet lost. Even after tossing garbage over the Caprican Ambassador, it would seem, she had come out on top.
She pushed carefully on the door and slipped inside the room. Tensing her jaw, she eased the door closed again, freezing when it clicked audibly.
It seemed no one, or at the very least, Lady Roslin, did not hear it. Margaret crept through the foyer and followed the muffled sounds of affection to a small corridor that ended with a wide open bedroom door. Quickly, Margaret spun against the wall and grimaced. She held her breath, but again was not noticed. Turning to press her hands against the wall, Margaret spied around the corner.
Helena slinked around Laura’s body and came behind her, hands searching around her hips, smoothing up her ribs. She brushed aside waves of auburn hair to lay kisses along her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck, coaxing the breath from Laura’s lungs again and again.
Margaret watched Helena’s hands disappear behind Laura’s back as the noble hummed and reached over her shoulder, slipping fingers into the Admiral’s hair, lips curling in delight. Helena’s hands came over her shoulders and began to push down the sleeves of her gown. Laura had to bring her arms to her sides so that Helena could slip the garment all the way down her body.
She stood in petticoat and underwear and Helena moved around her body again, taking her time to draw the ribbon tied at her chest to release the knot. Laura giggled in anticipation, jerking her heel in a way that let Helena know she wouldn’t stand being teased much longer. The Admiral chuckled deeply as she let the loose ribbon fall gently against her again.
It was in the way Helena simply stared. In the subtle shift of her brow and lips, Laura’s juvenile grin was a smile of wonderment. Helena was admiring her so innocently and Laura was deeply moved and seemed, to Margaret, suddenly shy.
Helena touched her cheek as the noble turned away, catching her chin as gracefully as she might hold out her fingers to catch a snowflake. The Admiral lifted her face, content to gaze silently while Laura blinked bashfully.
“I’ve been so long with but the memory of you to take to bed every night. And now you are here before me. I hold you. I see you.”
Laura tried to smile but was too much in awe. Margaret couldn’t know why and thought only that Helena Cain was the most charming person she had ever met.
The taller woman smoothed her thumb along Laura’s jaw. Her head tilted as Helena’s fingertips examined with touch every line and curve and swell and plain of her face. Fingers combed her hair, stroked her brow, traced her cheeks and brushed gently across her lashes.
When Helena simply cupped her jaw again and gazed adoringly, Laura and Margaret shared a deep, quivering sigh. Margaret watched, chest throbbing as Helena pressed her lips against Laura’s. Slow, lingering, tender offerings for the woman worthy of worship.
When they finally parted Laura buckled. She steadied herself quickly and Helena chuckled, pleased and flattered that she could have such an effect on her.
“You alright?”
Laura pursed her lips tightly and nodded. “Mm.” The noise she made became purring under the caress of her lover’s hands around her neck.
“Tell me about your new maid.” Helena’s voice was pleasant, a tone more intimate than conversational, but Margaret could detect the mischief Laura did not.
“Her name is Margaret. I found her on Aerelon.”
Helena smiled. She was moving around Laura’s body.
“Farmer.” An observation she made as her hands slipped through Laura’s hair and over her shoulders. A quick shift of her hands, and the petticoat dropped around Laura’s feet.
Margaret stared, captivated by the pale skin of supple breasts. Helena’s hands embraced Laura’s body, cupping them not possessively but as though her touch were a tribute offered to a Goddess, and the noble cooed with approval.
“So tell me. How did this girl win your affection?”
Margaret had been so enthralled by the tender passions on display before her she had almost missed the fluctuation of Helena’s tone. The implication was that she was not the first girl approached by Lady Roslin in such a manner. She wondered if these other girls still worked for her, and if she would meet them on her estate.
“She threw garbage over me.”
Helena snorted with laughter and grinned. “Now that’s a kid I can respect.”
“Hmm,” Laura smiled. She must have expected as much.
“You know,” Helena went on, “She couldn’t keep her eyes off you tonight.”
The smile on Laura’s face trembled uneasily and faded. Margaret pressed into the wall, intrigued by this response and wanting to get closer. Helena sensed her discomfort and looked curious. She came around her but Laura avoided her gaze.
“Whatever’s the matter?” Helena asked.
“Why you insist on teasing me…”
A hand prevented Laura from retreating entirely, and the stronger Helena made her stay, forced her eyes to meet hers. She seemed endeared by her lover’s insecurity.
“Laura, my love. I do not tease you. It is true.”
Margaret felt her breath catch. Laura’s eyes shimmered disbelievingly and seemed on the verge of tears.
“The girl hates me…”
Helena just stroked her cheek. “A thin line, I daresay, she crossed the moment she saw you dance.”
Laura attempted to pull away again, puffing with annoyance but Helena held her fast. “She refused several of my men so she might do nothing but adore you the night long.”
Laura’s eyes were so wide and incredulous she looked to be mad at Helena for contriving to play so cruelly with her feelings. The Admiral merely hugged her and turned Laura’s back to the bedroom doorway. Margaret caught the look in Helena’s eyes, her finger furling in invitation. An accompanying gesture warned her to stay quiet.
Fires ignited in Margaret’s chest, ones that would soon reduce vast plantations to smoldering ash. She couldn’t deny nor resist the desire and crept forward as quietly as she was able. Laura remained sniffing in her lover’s embrace and Margaret felt her heart implode at the thought that she should have a hand in causing her such pain.
“I promise you, I do not lie,” Helena soothed warmly, brushing auburn waves. “The girl is enchanted by you.”
As Laura whined miserably Helena turned her about. Spotting Margaret there, she gasped and tried to turn and hide herself against the Admiral’s body. Helena simply held her shoulders, forcing her to stay facing the girl. Margaret marveled at the way blush bloomed on her chest, neck and face.
Cooing her tenderly, Helena’s hands travelled to Laura’s wrists and, pulling them behind her own body, successfully trapped her lover against her. She quirked her brow, imploring Margaret to approach. The Admiral held this beauty before her as fine a instrument and waited to see what tune she would play.
Sensing her close, Laura dared to open her eyes, spying Margaret anxiously before shutting them tightly again. Her lips pursed tensely and Margaret ached to hear her fret so terribly.
“Please, m’Lady.” Hearing Margaret’s voice made her silent. But the girl still could not stand to see her distress.
She looked to Helena for some kind of direction, and felt emboldened by her encouraging nod. Lady Roslin was beautiful, and inspired Margaret’s hands to move of their own will. Her breath caught at the touch, surprised at the sensation of hot skin against her fingers.
She urged her head to turn, gently, but Laura would not move. She brushed her hair instead, curling it behind her ear and pressed a gentle kiss to her flushed cheek. Laura turned then, eyes shimmering curiously and Margaret smiled. She showed her again that she loved her, brushing her lips with hers and feeling fires licking her skin.
At parting, Laura’s eyes were bright and the curl to her lips was brazen. Margaret could only blink in surprise when Laura’s hands clutched over her ears, and she kissed her fervidly. She could not remember when Helena had released Laura, and when Margeret staggered back, found her retreat was blocked.
Hands fell on her shoulders. Laura growled quietly with lust and Margaret felt the lace tugged at the back of her dress. Helena’s hot breath rolled down her neck and, closing her eyes, she surrendered to the bodies that enveloped her.
Margaret awoke in a room made twilight. Her body sizzled with sensation and she could not bring her thighs together for the ache it caused between her legs. She moaned and tried carefully to sit up. Upon moving her arm, she felt the weight of something draped over it. Curiously, Margaret drew back the sheets, gasping in surprise.
Lady Roslin lay asleep beside her, form sculpted in a pose of hair and limbs that sang of night long passion. What part Margaret played was still a blur and the sight of skin glowing warmly in the dim light made thought impossible.
So enthralled, she had not noticed the figure seated across the room, and she jumped at the sound of her voice. Helena sat reclined in a silk gown, powerful body alight in the glow of the table lantern by which she must have been reading.
Margaret stared, unused to such immodesty. Where Lady Roslin was softness and curves, Admiral Cain was strength and edges, smooth skin stretched tightly over war forged muscles. A voluptuous and devastating beauty chiseled to the design of Artemis, or even by her hands.
“I didn’t mean to wake you. I confess I am often overwhelmed by what she makes me feel that afterwards I require a moment to…calm myself.”
The small smile on Helena’s lips made her eyes glitter. Margaret felt her heart paw at her ribs. Her voice would not work at first, but she willed to croak words.
“You did not wake me.”
Helena’s eyes rested on Laura’s sleeping form. The woman was turned away from her, cuddling the space between herself and Margaret with arm and leg, curls of hair trickling over her neck. Margaret gazed upon her too, desires trembling in her hands that begged for touch.
“You are probably wondering what you have got yourself into,” Helena said, smirking.
She was, but she was confused by so much that had happened. Helena’s voice drifted tenderly.
“My dear Laura is a deeply passionate woman. Insatiably so.” Her brow furrowed. “She seems to know no other way to express her feelings than in ways that touch one’s soul.”
Margaret breathed in and held the air in her lungs. She felt it then, a sensation she had been unable to define and until then dismissed it as nerves or her imagination. But it was there, the tingling left by a loving caress but somewhere deep inside. The Admiral spoke true.
“This invariably gets her into trouble.” Helena was not frowning, but Margaret could still see she was pained. She thought of Lord Adar.
“Do not misunderstand. Laura is by no means naïve. She is fiercely intelligent. But she would sooner see the good in someone than conduct herself in a manner more guarded.”
Margaret knew this was a pointed comment and she bowed her head. She heard Helena huff and hoped she did so in amusement. It occurred to her that Helena meant instead of assaulting her with garbage, Margaret may easily have attacked Laura with a knife.
“I am grateful to you.” Helena’s voice was friendly and Margaret did not expect it. She looked up, returning her smirk with bewilderment. “Your little stunt has persuaded Laura to employ more security in her travels, when she has repeatedly dismissed my concerns and told me not to worry.”
Margaret was even more surprised to see the grin spread on her face, and her chuckle seemed lighter.
“I am sorry to have missed it.” Her eyes closed and her head tilted, preferring the sights in her mind. “I can only imagine how she must have looked.”
Margaret felt her own lips pull into a grin. Helena narrowed her eyes.
“I suppose it would be horrid of me to hope it should somehow happen again while I am at liberty to see it.”
Margaret giggled and happily recalled her introduction to Lady Roslin. It made her think of something.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I was wondering,…Sir…”
Helena lifted her hand, touching her jaw and smiling. It was amusing the way the girl could not overcome her instincts.
“Helena,” she encouraged.
“Helena,” Margaret said, and had to catch her breath as there came a stir in her memory of the Admiral’s hot tongue lapping between her legs.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking. I wonder how you and Lady Roslin…” She could not say why her voice trailed. Even as she was asking her question, the Admiral was smiling, broader than perhaps even Helena herself expected.
“A tale indeed.”
Margaret hoped she would tell it.
( Chapter 4 )