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passionately.
    Compassionate, intelligent, powerful even
humorous, something again Nara had observed over the years they had
been together, that he often used as a defense mechanism whenever
he was deflecting difficult questions. Although still passionate in
their lovemaking, it was only on rare occasions he reciprocated and
told her he loved her these days. This in spite of her losing count
of the number of times she told him that he was the only man she
ever loved. No small thing as she had been a man-hater up to the
moment he entered and took possession of her life.
    For his all idiosyncrasies, one thing she
loved most about him completely, unlike her own father, was
Thomas’s parenting abilities.
    He had even allowed her to register Victoria,
his only heir, as a Muslim and always backed her in matters
relating to their daughter.
    “ Well at least until
recently!” she thought nibbling her lip nervously, again thinking
back to their recent horrible argument over their baby, as she
thought of her current insecurities over her future role in his
life.
    Twenty minutes later, after her protection
team had confirmed that it was safe for her exit, the beautiful
woman stepped out from the four-wheel drive and made her way up the
path towards the large mansion. Yet before she could even reach the
door of the house, a man opened it to greet her.
    Anybody meeting Stephen Pritchard would
assume he represented a classic literary image of the
quintessential British Butler with his manners and demeanor.
    He was a tall man of 5’11”, single never
married, and obsessive in regard to standards relating to dignity.
Physically, he would be best described as thin, willowy, and long.
He had grey hair and a pair of blue eyes hidden under his simple
silver rimmed glasses, and something the beautiful woman whom he
had open the door for had never seen him out of in all the years
she had known him; his classic butler’s uniform of black long coat,
white shirt with butlers tie, and morning suit trousers all
finished off with a pair of extra black polished Northampton soled
shoes.
    He was sixty years old, but Nara had never
checked nor had she even wished him ‘happy birthday’ during the
twelve years he had served her.
    The mansion had once belonged to the late
mother of Thomas that meant Pritchard’s loyalty towards that of the
Litchfield family was total, having served them and her love since
he was fourteen. Unfortunately, this had also meant the man was by
definition “untouchable,” despite her many attempts to get rid of
him over the years.
    “ Good Afternoon, Lady
Gunara,” Pritchard said without smiling, using the term that he
only used when Thomas wasn’t in the house. For when her love was in
the residence it was, “Miss Gunara.”
    To Nara this insult was taken by her as
Geci’s way of sending the message that she was only his Mistress
for short periods, and thereby here at the grace and favor of
Thomas and Victoria, who he always referred to as either “Sir
Thomas” or “Lady Victoria” or “My little Lady.”
    Affection was something Stephen certainly
never shown towards her in any shape or form in all the years Nara
had known him. Today was no different.
    Where this mutual distrust and resentment had
come from had its roots in an event seven years ago, when the old
“Geçi” meaning “Goat” in Turkman, as Nara always thought of him,
had complained to Thomas about her conduct over the disciplining of
a member of the household staff.
    The shame and embarrassment the exotic woman
felt from that moment still burned deeply within her and as a
consequence would never leave her. As far as far as the butler was
concerned the incident had showed him well and truly where the
“little cow,” as he thought of her, stood within the pecking order
of the house.
    Although the butler had never quite
comprehended exactly what Thomas saw in this uneducated, fiery, and
impolite Russian woman from central Asia, despite her