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"I've been in the playroom sampling the bourbon," she said, giving his arm a little squeeze and once pressing her full, ripe breast against him. "I was hoping you might wander back and sample some with me. We might even've gotten into a game of billiards… or something."

Antoine smiled. Her words, her gestures, her every move was suggestive of sex, and had been since the first day she had walked into this house on the arm of Uncle Gaston better than a year ago, replacing his former mistress. Her capacity had been obvious, her duties nil… except to cater to the master's personal and private needs… whatever they might be. Antoine only knew that he didn't blame his Uncle; after all, he was human and Aunt Yolande had been ill for at least a dozen years; a man had to have a woman, and Ginny Novak was very much that.

He, himself, had never touched her sexually… had hardly ever laid a hand upon her, but in all honesty he had wanted to many times, and from her actions… just the way she would hang onto him, or brush her breasts against him teasingly as she was doing right at that moment, he felt certain that she would be receptive. But once again, his loyalty to the man who had befriended and raised him would never permit him to commit such an act. Ginny Novak was his uncle's toy, and although Antoine too-often could barely tolerate the little man's cruel and abusive treatment of her in public, he bit his lip and kept his place. After all, if she didn't like it, she could always go back to the States where she came from.

Now, as he watched her, she looked about the room until her eyes found what they sought.

"Ah, so there the little czar is," she said with obvious distaste. "And with your Madeleine, of course."

"Of course…? Why do you say it like that?" Antoine questioned, her derisive tone provoking him.

"Did I say it wrong? I'm sorry, darling. Probably just the natural, unrefined farmer coming out in me. Nothing more crude than a half-drunk, corn-fed girl, they say."

Antoine grinned and she moved around until her back was to Uncle Gaston and Madeleine, then he saw the almost immediate, serious expression that sobered her attractive face. It surprised and puzzled him simultaneously.

"What is it?" he heard himself question. "Is something wrong, Ginny?"

"We must go someplace where we can talk," she replied in a voice above a whisper. "It's terribly important to you, Antoine…"

"What is it?"

"We can't discuss it here," she insisted, "too dangerous."

"But… I don't understand…"

"Wait…" she said, turning slowly, her loose little smile returning once more as she pretended to look dazedly across the room. Then, he felt her hand tightening on his arm, and she said: "Look, they're leaving the room… now we can slip out…"

Antoine watched his Uncle leading Madeleine toward the central hall and felt a moment of confusion. "Where the devil are they going?"

"Probably to the front sitting room," Ginny lied. "There're some guests in there, too. Please, now come with me."

She gave him little chance to refuse, ushering him by the arm through the doorway that led to the servants' corridor and back toward the playroom.

"Look, Ginny… I don't understand," Antoine said, resisting, but not enough to slow her anxious pace. "What's so damned important that we couldn't talk about it back there?"

"Plenty, darling," she half-whispered as they entered the near-darkened playroom and she closed the door quietly behind them. "In fact, I'm not going to tell it all to you here, either. It's too dangerous… could even mean my neck…"

"Your neck? Good God, what're you trying to say, girl?" he snapped, his accent broadening his English in irritation.

Ginny Novak eased in close to him, both hands suddenly clutching at the muscles of his arms. She looked up into his face, her own expression one of taut seriousness. "Listen to me," she almost hissed, her lovely eyes probing the depths of his own irked and questioning ones, "that filthy uncle of yours is working at hanging you. And unless you do something about it awfully damned quick, it's going to be too late."

"Wh-What? Look… what the hell are you talking about, anyway?" Antoine rapped, angrily trying to shed her hands from his arms. "Is that what you brought me back here for? To malign Uncle Gaston? Christ, what kind of girl are you? You sleep with him, eat his food, drink his liquor… and too damned much of that by the way you're talking…"

"Stop it!" she hissed vehemently. "Stop and listen to me you stupid, naive idiot! Galaxy Mining, Ltd. is in trouble with the government. I overheard a conversation between Gaston and his attorney, Robert Jovell, this afternoon on the telephone. I heard Gaston say something to the effect that he'd been expecting it… it had to come sooner or later, but that he wasn't worried, they couldn't touch him… the whole operation was in your name! Now… do you still think I'm trying to malign that noble bastard?"

Antoine was stunned. He stared down at her, hardly seeing her. Of course, it was all ridiculous. Either she had misinterpreted whatever it was she'd heard, or she was making the whole thing up for reasons of her own. Certainly, Uncle Gaston would never do anything that would reflect on him, Antoine, let alone making him some sort of scapegoat that might wind him up in prison. The whole idea was preposterous!

"I-I don't know what you're trying to do," he spat at her, "but whatever it is you're wasting your time. My advice is that you lay off the liquor and get yourself out of here as soon as you can. It looks to me like you've overstayed your welcome."

With that, he tried to get around her, but she quickly backed to the door and stood against it, momentarily preventing his leaving. Her usual dancing, suggestive eyes narrowed in her own anger, and although the scintillating lights continued to enliven them, they were now tiny explosions of rage.

"You are a stupid ass, Antoine Poirier! I don't know why in hell I should be putting my head on the chopping block for you… but here I am! Now you listen to me, damn you; what I've told you is truth! You can do whatever you want about it, I don't care. This much I can tell you, that little gargoyle you call 'uncle' is a vile monster, and he doesn't care anymore about you than he does one of his lovely prostitutes who has to kick in a third of her earnings so that he can live in the style he's become accustomed to. And as far as overstaying my welcome, M'sieu', I'd be out of here in two minutes if I dared… but you know what would happen to me if I tried? I'd be dead! That's right, dead!" Suddenly, a mean little smile stretched her pretty mouth. "I hope to God you don't think I'm here because I want to be? You'd have to be out of your mind to believe that. I'm here because that foul bastard won me in a poker game from a stateside hood just like him… a gambler named Lou 'The Ace' Fennel… and you don't run away from their kind of scum… you merely deteriorate into a common whore to provide their bread and butter when they're finished with you… or you kill yourself… You pays your money, and you takes your choice."

Antoine stared at her as if his eyes were glued upon her paled, anger-lined face. Every word she spoke had registered, and abruptly, he realized her sincerity. Whether there was any accuracy in what she had said pertaining to Galaxy Mining and Uncle Gaston abandoning him, was still questionable in his mind, but her own position, he suddenly found himself not doubting for a moment. Almost instantly, his heart went out to her, and when he saw the little tears trickling down her cheeks he couldn't help himself. He opened his arms and she burst inside them with a sob.

"There, there," he whispered into her ear as she cried against his chest, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils as she clung to him and he held her, smoothing his hand down her back, caressing the silken material of her gown to feel the soft flesh and indentation of her barely perceptible spine beneath. Her full, pointed breasts dug into his chest, while the little round bowl of her belly rested snugly beneath his own, and as he held her, she inched tighter against him until her warm, full thighs clung tightly to his hard, lean ones, and her pelvis and belly ground against, and shared the length of his stiffening cock.