“But you’ve got the better horse,” Lydia said, grinning back.
Two of the girls from the harem were waiting when they reached the courtyard, both in “traditional” harem dress, including veils. They silently took the reins as first Mike, then Lydia, with Mike’s hand in assistance, dismounted. Then they just as silently led the horses around to the stables.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked as they stood in front of the doors of the caravanserai.
“Yes,” Lydia said distantly then turned to look at him. “I will admit that I am even eager.” But her eyes had a shuttered look.
“But?” Mike asked.
“I worry about Oleg,” Lydia admitted, turning back to the open doors. “Not for the long term, but for tonight.”
“So did I,” Mike said, taking her arm and stepping towards the door.
“Did?” Lydia asked.
“Oleg is… taken care of.”
“Have another beer, Oleg,” Sawn said, shaking his head. “And tell me what’s been happening while we were gone.”
“Nothing much,” Oleg said, taking the mug from the other team leader and looking at it. “Training and more training.”
“We’ll need it soon enough,” Padrek said, spitting through his teeth into the fire. “I’ve heard McKenzie muttering about this mission.”
The team leaders were gathered around their own bonfire, taking a night off from training. Ostensibly it was a break so the teams didn’t get too worn down before the mission. But everybody knew what the real point was; get Oleg good and drunk. The young man was superficially prepared for temporarily losing “his” girl to the Kildar, but it had to hurt.
“Hairy,” Vil said, nodding. “But we’ll get it done.”
“To getting it done,” Sawn said, raising his mug. “Hammer it, Oleg.”
“I’m fine,” Oleg said, sighing. “Just fine.”
“You won’t be if you br—” Vil started to say as there was a jingle of bells from the darkness beyond the fire.
All six team leaders looked towards the sound and then their eyes widened.
The woman, whoever she was, was wearing a blue harem girl’s dress, transparent pantaloons, bikini panties and a blue midriff top. Lining every hem were small bells and more were on her fingers and toes.
The apparition moved sinuously into the firelight until she was sure she had the full attention of the group and then began to dance.
Somewhere in the darkness, a drum was being played, a beat that matched the human heart, as the woman sinuously glided in front of the fire until she was opposite Oleg. Spinning, bending and writhing, she appeared to dance only for him to the beat of the drum, until it abruptly stopped.
“The Kildar feared that you would be lonely this night,” the woman said, huskily. “He has sent me for your pleasure and to teach you the arts of pleasuring a woman. I am for you this night, a proxy for your bride to be. Do you approve?” she asked, chuckling and kneeling down before him gracefully.
Sawn looked at his friend, who was sitting on the log with his mouth open.
“I think he does,” Sawn said, grinning. “But you might have to give him a hand.”
“Then I will,” Anastasia said, taking Oleg’s hand and pulling him to his feet. “Gentlemen, I will return him in the morning.”
“Alive?” Vil asked.
The chuckles followed the pair back into the darkness.
Mike led Lydia upstairs to his private suite of rooms. As they climbed the stairs he could tell she was getting more and more nervous and he noted, with almost a chuckle, her surprise and shock when she was led to the kitchen.
“What, I’m supposed to cook, too?” Lydia asked, when she saw the food laid out on the counters and the pan on the stove.
“Not at all,” Mike said, seating her on a bar stool where she could watch the proceedings. There were two places already set at the bar along with an unlit candle and flowers. He pulled a champagne bottle, one of three, out a large bucket filled with ice and water and uncorked it. “You get to watch.” He poured two glasses of the champagne and handed one to her. “Cheers.”
“You can cook?” Lydia asked, surprised. “I don’t mean…”
“Keldara men can’t cook very much,” Mike admitted, going over to the stove and taking down an apron. “But I learned to a long time ago. Lydia, we both know what this night is all about. But… hmm…” He took a sip of the champagne, tied on the apron and then poured some olive oil into the pan, working it around and then turning on the heat.
“In the U.S., we have a custom called ‘dating’, ” Mike continued, tossing precoated slivers of beef into the saucier pan. The sides were rounded and hammered so he could use it as a wok. “It’s also a custom in about all big cities. Now, you’re a country gal. The only people you know are the people of the Keldara and a few townspeople. But in the cities, girls don’t know the men around them, generally, from birth. And the guys don’t know the girls. So they have to meet somehow.”
“I guess,” Lydia said, crossing her legs and taking a sip of the champagne, then looking at the glass. “What is this?”
“Champagne,” Mike said, not looking at her as he smiled. “Sparkling wine.”
“It’s good,” Lydia said, taking another sip.
“Have more,” Mike replied. “Anyway, where I come from, a guy meets a girl, however, and generally asks her out on a date to test the waters. They have dinner, maybe see a show and then, if the chemistry is right, maybe more. The bottomline from a guy’s point-of-view is the ‘maybe more’…”
“So I’d heard,” Lydia said pointedly.
Mike turned to look at her and grinned.
“Different strokes,” Mike said shrugging then getting back to cooking. “In the States, reasonably casual sex isn’t that big of a deal. Different cultures and, trust me, I don’t treat this evening casually. But the point is, when I was dating I was interested in getting the young lady interested enough to really test the waters.”
“Were they?” Lydia asked, interested. “This wine is good, by the way. Dry.”
“Makes you want to drink more,” Mike said, looking over his shoulder again. “Go ahead. With the way that you Keldara drink, you’re going to have a high tolerance. Anyway, to answer your question, a few. Okay, more than a few. But being a good date is the important point. There’s a saying in the States: ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ ”
“We say something similar,” Lydia said, giggling. “ ‘Food makes the softer bed.’ ”
“Well, what I found out,” Mike continued, slooshing some wine into the vegetable mix and setting a cover on it, “is that it’s really the way to a woman’s heart. Most men can’t do much more than grill. So, instead of inviting a young lady out to an expensive restaurant, where you’d then have several other steps to getting to the point, I’d invite her to my place for dinner.”
“I’d have said ‘take me to the restaurant,’ ” Lydia said, then giggled again.
“Ah, but that’s because you’re a good girl,” Mike said, looking at her and grinning. “I was very careful to only date nice girls. Do you know the difference between a good girl and a nice girl?”
“No?” Lydia said, pouring her third glass of champagne. Part of the requirements that Mike had laid down was, since there would be dinner involved, she hadn’t eaten since lunch. The champagne also had more of a kick than she realized. He didn’t want her to get drunk, but alcohol would tend to reduce her tension and that was a good thing.