"Stand down, Jack," Robert said. "He wasn't challenging your post, for pity's sake. He was only responding to my instruction."
Belby said nothing. He was clearly getting the impression that some of her guards took things very personally, and Belby didn't need or like the drama. He disliked it immensely. He was going to open his mouth and offer to return to Bulgaria and let her guards be as offended as they like, with or without him. However, then he looked at Khaat and remembered that he was the reason she was still alive. And besides that, despite the close shave, he did like her. He liked her spark, her fight, her spirit. It was so much more alive than the cold stone halls and stonehearted socialite politicians in Bulgaria. He guessed he would try to ignore whatever unnecessary insecurities her guards had. That wasn't his issue.
Khaat glanced up at him. She saw he wasn't in the mood this morning to debate the task he was hired for. He looked like a man who needed either a firewhiskey or a cigarette or both, and then a quiet place to just sit for a moment. And actually, it didn't sound like a bad idea.
"The shoes are great, Jess," she said. "Thank you. Mr. Belby...," she said, struggling to her feet. He moved quickly to put his hand under her good shoulder and helped her to stand. She groaned, stiff and sore already.
"Hurts, huh?" he smiled slightly.
"A little," she said dryly, needing to grip securely onto him for support. "Take me home, please."
"Potion first, and then you can go," her father called.