The Ambassador's Daughter

“Good Lord, Brandon, who is this?” Johann leaned over to his cousin.

Stephen looked up. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen stood in the doorway on the arm of an older man; the ambassador from Earth, if he recognized the insignia on the sash correctly.

“I have no idea. The new ambassador’s wife?” Stephen asked. Breathe, boy.

“Lucky bastard.” Johann looked closer. “No, too young. The man must be her father.”

“God, I hope so. I’ll slit my throat if she’s married to him.” Stephen looked for a place to put down his drink. He found an empty tray on a stand and left his glass there. Taking a quick look at himself in the reflective glass of the garden doors, he tried to get that lock of hair that always fell over his brow to stay put.

It seemed his hair did not intend to humor him in his moment of need.

Turning back to the crowd and taking his place at Johann’s side, Stephen watched the young woman and the ambassador make their way toward the ceremony hall, stopping every now and then to speak to various people.

“Stop her, Cousin. Introduce us, in the name of God and my grandfather,” Stephen whispered hoarsely.

“Practically no difference there.” Johann snorted. “You’re pathetic, Cousin. The first fresh pretty face you see in a year, and you’re falling over yourself to get to her. Look around, man. You’re not the only one.” Johann motioned with his drink around the ballroom. Conversation in the room had halted as everyone turned and stared at the pair.

“Good Lord! Has she no sense of propriety?” Helena joined her husband to stand at his elbow. “What is she wearing?”

Stephen took his eyes off the stranger’s face and looked at her clothes. The suit she wore looked like some sort of leather, black and white with silver buttons. Long fringe ran down the underarms and across the back of her long fitted jacket and dangled from the hem of her knee length riding skirt to the tops of her boots. Her black-tooled boots were trimmed in silver on the toes and heels.

Stephen’s face broke into a wide grin. “A riding skirt and boots, I believe.”

“Good Lord,” Helena said with a gasp.

The young woman had pulled her waist-length black hair back on one side and held it in place with a silver and turquoise jeweled comb. The other side fell loose. The color of the turquoise matched perfectly her blue-green eyes.

“Well, she’s like no one I’ve ever seen,” Johann admitted.

“She’s so exotic,” Stephen murmured. “So very off world.”

“She’ll never fit in here. She’s doomed,” Helena declared, and everyone nodded.

Stephen stepped forward. “Then we must save her.”