By Jove by Marissa Doyle Page B

that Drs. Herman and Forge-Smythe were the focus of attention. They were playing some kind of game involving dice. As she watched, Dr. Herman threw the dice and groaned; then, while everyone laughed and cheered, he held out his hand for the large beaker of wine Marlowe brought him. Evidently he had lost his toss and had to pay a penalty. While everyone else clapped rhythmically, he drained the cup in one long draft. Cheers erupted as he flourished the empty cup and bowed.
    “Again?” Dr. Forge-Smythe challenged, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
    “Not I. Not for a few minutes, anyway. I don’t think I could manage to lose again just yet.” Dr. Herman stumbled back to the side of the green-eyed girl and slid a casual arm over her shoulder. She looked both delighted and nervous at the contact.
    “I’ll have a go, sir,” Andrew Barnes said in his sloppily draped toga, and took Dr. Herman’s place. The audience cheered him in turn and Ms. Cadwallader came to stand behind him, keeping a stern eye fixed on Dr. Forge-Smythe.
    “He’d better watch it. Henry rarely loses,” Grant said in her ear. Theo looked up at him and he offered her a contrite smile. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to behave myself.” To her surprise he held his wine cup up to her in salute, then drained it.
    A server approached the edge of the crowd with a large tray of hors d’oeuvres. Grant chose a tiny stuffed fig and held it to Theo’s lips. “Will you forgive me if I feed you?”
    She accepted the fig, stuffed with sweet cheese and chopped dates, and looked up into his face, glowing in the candlelight. Then, before he could move his hand away, she delicately nibbled the end of his finger and drew it into her mouth for a delicious, lascivious second. Though the people around them were laughing and cheering again he didn’t seem to hear them, but closed his eyes as she released him.
    “I’m sorry, was that too much?” she murmured to him around the sweetness of the fig. It nearly had been, for her.
    “You are not sorry. You enjoyed every second of that,” he accused, eyes still closed.
    “Yes, I did. Didn’t you?”
    “The least you could’ve done is warn me.”
    “What would the point be if I warned you? Consider that your punishment for being a spoilsport earlier.”
    He opened his eyes. “Punishment? Are you trying to encourage misbehavior?”
    “Some kinds of it, anyway.”
    “’Scuse me,” mumbled a voice. Andrew pushed past them, looking both green and red at the same time, still clutching the cup he had evidently just been forced to drink. Before the crowd flowed back, Theo saw Ms. Cadwallader seat herself on the couch and pick up the dice, fixing Dr. Forge-Smythe with her gimlet eyes.
    “Dear me, we need to teach that lad a few things,” said Marlowe, who had materialized next to Grant. He refilled Theo’s cup, squinted at the bottle, then upended it over his mouth. “He’ll never graduate if he doesn’t learn to hold his wine,” he added, wiping his mouth after he finished. A loop of golden ribbon suddenly descended around his shoulders and jerked him backwards. “Whoops! Hey cowgirl, you could have spilled something!” he cried, and turned in pursuit of a giggling, fleeing girl.
    The group around the dice game cheered once more, and Renee Frothington-Forge-Smythe pushed her way through it, violet crown askew, and came to stand protectively by her husband.
    “No! You know too much wine upsets his stomach!” she scolded June Cadwallader, who was holding a cup out to him with a grim smile.
    “Now, now!” Julian swept through the crowd and held up one hand. “Time to find our dinner partners.” He nodded to Renee, who took the cup of wine and drained it herself, then handed it back to June with a disdainful sniff. Someone whistled in admiration as she moved to another couch and patted it in invitation to her husband, who smiled sheepishly and pulled himself alongside her. Dr. Herman murmured to the green-eyed girl