21st of Hope, 5th year of the reign of House Redwater, halfway to midnight. On Alshain Magna
Of course, things were rarely so simple. He had to keep up the act of slowly but surely getting a little bit intoxicated. He was a quiet drunk on the rare occasions he allowed himself to drink--he was afraid that he might share his brother's weakness--the sort who didn't cause much trouble, was slightly melancholoy, but mostly just absented himself more and more from the situation, turning in on himself. So it was easy to simply slowly but surely become a bit less social, a bit less likely to chime in with a witty comment, to slowly withdraw from the stage and slip out after the fourth or fifth hour of socializing.
But as he slipped out the door, avoiding his brother who, nearly as smart as him, had long ago guessed at the nature of the alcohol, and no doubt would demand to have the nanobots shut off. Of course, if that was done, it'd kill the man, since he had drunk so much alcohol that if it entered his brother all at once, well...he loved his family even when he despied them, so he wasn't about to do this.
He ran right into Jamilla. She smiled and offered to take him to bed since he was so drunk. She knew, of course, but she had a goal to her manipulations.
And so he found himself laying in bed with her, staring at the ceiling, wondering why the world was as it was.
She loved him, which was the most insane thing he had ever heard of. She loved him and sometimes didn't fall for his lies, though sometimes she did, and she cared for him with a passion that hadn't yet waned, despite having every reason in the Galaxy to do so. There had not been a moment of fidelity on his part, or even love. And yet somehow he could not fully hate her, not when she was so smart, not when...but he certainly didn't like her.
And he had no idea why that was. There was nothing wrong with .
her. Sure, he'd married her for her money and status, and she was older than him, but there were no flaws that should have won such great disapproval. She was lazy, and not the best person to run his house-hold, but she could be nearly as charming as him, and she had a head for business--she merely lacked the motivation.
And she was beautifl, her blonde hair soft, her skin not at all wrinkled by age, laying in bed, naked, next to him.
"This move, it was supposed to bring us together, dear," she whispered gently, "Get you away from all of those distractions..."
Like every woman who was not her. Or family. The staff were all male, the nanny sixty years old, and an ardent lover of women, and women only.
He smiled and said, "Has something been wrong?"
"You've been so busy, sweetie..."
"I'll try to make some more time," he assured her.
He could tell she didn't quite believe him, which was wise. She could see through some of his lies all of his time, while other types of lies he presented her with she always bought.
Salamah reached out and stroked her cheek, his face a mask of love, "You are still as beautiful to me as the day I met you," which was true.
"Oh," she said with a smile, "You say the most romantic things." She shifted, exposing her body, her small, still surprisngly pert breasts, her nakedness that any woman of fifty-five would be envious of. He allowed his face to alight with lust as he thought of women who were not his wife. Any of the would do.
He pulled at his boxers. There were some lies she would always believe.
The Duke could lie with his body, and she'd never believe it was anything but lust.
And so he got on to the task with the enthusiasm of a boy doing his homework.
Sometimes, well, sometimes he wished he loved her. It would make so many things so much easier if he could just stretch his heart to love one more person.
Despite all that, he slept soundly that night, and woke to another good day.
Cast
Duke Salamah, 48. Husband of Jamilla Laurent, who he married for her money, and her indirect noble descent.
Jamillla Laurent, 55. Wife of the Duke, she loves him, despite all that he does, and all that he is.
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