LC03 Shield's Lady Page 5

  The fury was fading rapidly from his eyes. Sariana recovered herself quickly and put the awkward moment behind her. She could handle this man. She could handle anyone from the west if she just put her mind to it. Cool intelligence always had the edge over extravagant emotional indulgence. She just had to concentrate on keeping calm and staying in charge. And talking fast.

  “I wasn’t aware that I was taking any particular risks. I was simply making a business observation. And as for your legend about prisma crystal ships—”

  “You don’t believe it.”

  “I’m afraid not.” Sariana tapped one silvered nail on the desk top. “Have you, yourself, ever seen one?”

  “No.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “If the ships don’t exist, how do you account for the existence of prisma?” Gryph asked softly.

  “I’m sure it’s simply a natural, rather rare substance found here on the western continent,” she told him loftily.

  “And the prisma cutters?”

  “Probably a piece of technology left over from the days of the First Generation. A certain amount was salvaged from The Serendipity after the crash, just as some things were rescued from The Rendezvous. Both groups were fortunate. Without that minimal amount of technology and knowledge, especially medical knowledge, those first colonists would probably not have survived at all. Things were hard enough as it was from all accounts.”

  “You think you’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” Gryph asked.

  “Not for everything. Not yet. But just give me a little time,” she tossed back smoothly.

  “Time? Why should I give you time?”

  Without any warning Gryph got to his feet and crossed the white marble floor with long, sure strides until he was standing on the opposite side of the desk. He planted both hands, palms flat, on top of the polished surface and leaned forward to confront her.

  “I don’t owe you time or anything else, Lady Sariana Dayne. Just the opposite. Because of that trick you played last night, you owe me. I’ll give you a word of warning because I know for a fact you won’t listen.”

  “What word of warning is that?” she retorted tightly.

  “I always collect what’s owed to me.”

  Adrenalin and awareness coursed through Sariana’s system. She shot to her feet and opened her mouth to tell Gryph Chassyn what he could do with his warnings.

  But her words were never vocalized. Instead Sariana felt herself trapped as Gryph caught her face between two surprisingly rough, strong palms. An instant later his mouth covered hers in a kiss that shocked her to the toes of her soft leather slippers.

  Sariana had rarely been kissed and certainly never like that. For all her education and worldly upbringing, she had been a protected clan lady. In addition, the unrelenting pressures of the educational system back in Rendezvous had ensured that there was very little time left to students for such frivolities as sexual experimentation.

  The one year of her life that might have been considered free was this past year. But during the whole time she had been in Serendipity Sariana had felt like a stranger in a strange land. She had preferred to feel that way. The last thing she had wanted to do was engage in a sexual relationship with one of the locals. She wanted nothing that would tie her to the west, even temporarily. Besides, she had her standards.

  The only man she had even begun to consider in a faintly romantic light was halfway across town waiting for her to join him for lunch. And it was a fact that Etion Rakken had never had the unmitigated gall to kiss her in this manner.

  Gryph’s embrace was rough, hungry and passionate. It was also astonishingly arrogant and forceful, as if he were stealing something he was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to get by asking.

  It was as if he were staking a claim.

  The kiss, Sariana knew somewhere in the depths of her being, was meant to be a small, symbolic act of masculine aggression. And when Gryph boldly parted her lips and thrust his tongue briefly and forcefully into the soft, intimate warmth of her mouth, she knew it was symbolic of the more intimate act of sex as well. Lack of personal experience in such matters did not imply lack of knowledge.

  Sariana tried to jerk free of the embrace but something was happening to her, something she did not understand.

  A waterfall of sensation was suddenly pouring over her, leaving her dazed and vaguely frantic. She did not recognize some of these emotions. They were oddly alien, as if they came from someone else. Then she realized abruptly why they seemed so strange. These emotions were masculine, not feminine.

  There was hunger, irritation, need, aggression, passion, arrogance and, swamping all the others, sheer, unadulterated male possessiveness.

  It was impossible, Sariana thought desperately. She was imagining things. Nevertheless she had the disorienting feeling that she was actually tapping into some of Gryph’s feelings. She raised her hands and pushed futilely against his shoulders. He held the kiss a few seconds longer, just long enough to let her know that she could not force him to halt the embrace. It would end when he wanted it to end.

  And then, without any warning, it was over. Sariana was set free as abruptly as she had been taken captive. She caught hold of the edge of the desk for balance and stared at Gryph. She was far more shaken than she wanted to admit. She hastily used the only defense she had, her quick tongue.

  “I’m sure you already know your manners are utterly abominable,” Sariana managed with a smooth sarcasm that she hoped masked her inner turmoil and rage. “So I won’t bother to give you a lecture about them. I doubt if you’re capable of learning much on the subject of manners, anyway. I have it on good authority that you were raised on the frontier, far from proper society. You’ll be interested to know your lack of breeding shows. And because you are ill-bred, you probably don’t mind that it shows.” She turned away to open a section of the desk. “You might not believe it, but I do have better things to do this morning than fight off the advances of an over-priced mercenary whose social class is obviously disintegrating even as we speak. Please leave.”

  There was a stunned silence from behind her. Gryph didn’t move.

  “We have a lot more to discuss,” he finally got out. His voice sounded surprisingly thick and ragged.

  “We have nothing more to discuss.” She kept her rigid back to him as she riffled the papers in front of her. “If you have accepted a contract to recover the missing cutter, as you claim you have, I would appreciate it if you would get started on the project. As I mentioned last night, complete secrecy is required for the sake of the Clan. Your cover story is that you have been hired by the Avylyns to ensure the safety of their jewelry collection on the night of their annual costume ball. Your presence in the household will appear normal until then. It will be expected that you need to make proper security arrangements. After the ball, if you still haven’t found the cutter, we will need to invent another cover story. Or find another Shield.”

  “Lady Sariana, we have to talk,” Gryph said heavily.

  She whirled to face him. “I do hope that in the matter of secrecy you can be trusted.”

  He stared at her as if she had gone crazy. “I’m a Shield. Don’t you know what that means? My word is better than prisma.”

  “One hopes that, while you may not have a decent set of manners, you do have some business ethics. You do, after all, belong to some sort of accepted social class, even if that class does choose to reside on the frontier for the most part. You are not a complete outlaw. Now, I have work to do. Please leave.”

  “Lady, if you think you can just casually toss me out of your office like this, I’ve got news for you.”

  Whatever Gryph would have said next was lost as the door to Sariana’s office opened again to admit Indina Avylyn. She came into the room like a ship in full sail, her towering hairdo barely clearing the door.
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  “Oh, here you are, Sariana,” she said in tones of tremendous relief. “I’ve been looking for you. I have the menus for the food we will be serving for the costume ball. Now I know I have specified some rather expensive items, but I’ve already explained that this is one area in which the Avylyns must not stint. The Clan has been giving this ball for nearly seventy years. People expect the best from us. If we cut corners this year they will suspect that all is not well with us. We mustn’t allow that to happen.” She stopped short as she realized someone else was in the room. Mild alarm dashed some of the enthusiasm from her eyes. “Lord Chassyn. The luck of the day to you, sir. Please pardon me if I’m intruding on a business conference, but this is terribly important. I must have Sariana’s approval of these expenses.”

  “Luck to you, Lady Avylyn,” Gryph said. He inclined his head with a graceful degree of polish that belied the accusations Sariana had just made concerning his manners. “I understand the importance of your situation. Sariana and I can continue our discussion after she’s looked at your menus.”

  Sariana stabbed at the mechanism that opened a complete section of the black stone desk. “I’m afraid Sariana is going to be unavailable for any further discussions of any sort this morning. I have a business appointment. Lady Avylyn, I will be happy to approve your menus this afternoon. Lord Chassyn,” she added with a mocking emphasis on the title, “I’m sure you’ll understand if I dash off. Pressing business I’m afraid.”

  Sariana practically fled from the room.

  Gryph gazed thoughtfully at the empty doorway. “Pressing business?”

  “Oh, she probably has an appointment with her friend at the bank,” Indina Avylyn explained.

  “She has a friend in banking? A male friend?”

  “Etion Rakken,” Indina said hurriedly as she gathered up her menus. “He’s also from Rendezvous. Came over a number of years ago and never went back. I think he and Sariana feel they must cling to each other while they reside here in the west. There are so few people from the eastern continent who actually live here, you know. Perfectly natural that Sariana and Etion should stick together. Sariana is so lonely. She hides it well, of course. You know how those easterners are about showing emotion. But we all know she’s homesick. Etion always has a cheering effect on her, though. She’ll be fine this afternoon after she’s had lunch with him. You’ll see.”

  Gryph could still taste Sariana’s mouth. His body was still pulsing painfully with the instant response he had experienced when he’d caught hold of her and kissed her. For a moment during the embrace he had known without a doubt that he had touched her in ways that were not just physical in nature. And she had responded.

  Shieldmate.

  He was certain of that now. He had found a potential Shieldmate. A woman he could make his true wife. A woman who could give him a son. The knowledge dazed him. The thought of her going off to spend the warm, lazy morning with another man sent a rush of frustrated heat and rage through his veins.

  The realization that the other male was undoubtedly far more socially acceptable to Sariana than Gryph would ever be was enough to ruin the rest of the day for him.

  Chapter

  3

  TWO days later, Sariana left for another engagement with Etion Rakken. This time she was meeting him for late morning tea. Such outings were always welcomed by her. Lately, however, with the pressures of dealing with the Shield, the Avylyns’ upcoming ball, as well as the demands of her normal schedule, Sariana was more grateful than ever for the brief moments of escape.

  The early summer sunshine warmed the wide stone sidewalks and the cobbled streets of downtown Serendipity. Sariana was accustomed to the boisterous, outrageously dressed crowds that thronged the squares and avenues of the capital. In her elegantly restrained attire she was the one who stood out.

  Pausing near one of the many sparkling fountains that graced virtually every corner of the city, Sariana prepared to cross the street. She was getting better at the deceptively simple task but she still exercised caution. Lifting her skirts she stepped off the sidewalk.

  And was nearly run down by a dragonpony being ridden at full speed.

  “By the Captain’s Blood, lady, watch where you’re going;” the pony rider yelled cheerfully as he thundered past. The pony’s clawed feet scraped on the stones mere inches from Sariana’s boots.

  “Here, now. Where did you come from?” shouted a wagonmaster as he sawed at the reins. The wagon swerved around Sariana with a dramatic flourish.

  Sariana lifted her chin and ignored both close calls. She had learned that only cool arrogance, a fine disdain for danger and the ability to calculate distances with great precision guaranteed a safe crossing. Carriage drivers and riders tended to view the contest between themselves and pedestrians as a glorious, endless game.

  Sariana prided herself on not having yet sunk to the point of swearing at the flamboyant drivers and riders who challenged her right to cross the streets. There were times, however, when she wondered how much longer she could restrain herself under the trying conditions. She had lived in the Avylyn household long enough to acquire a wide assortment of colorful phrases.

  She dreaded the day she would start using those phrases because it would mean she had allowed herself to be dragged one step deeper into this crazy culture.

  She made it across the street, narrowly avoiding being trampled by a teenager on a high spirited dragonpony, and saw with relief that Etion Rakken was waiting for her in the usual spot. His deep red hair shone in the sun and his dark eyes regarded her with genuine appreciation as she walked toward him. He was sitting under an awning at a popular sidewalk cafe.

  Rakken was wearing a version of the local masculine fashion. It wasn’t quite as colorful as the attire of the males around him, but neither was it as severely tailored as what he would have worn back in Rendezvous. Etion liked to say he had adapted to the local culture. Sariana sometimes feared the changes in him had gone even deeper. Etion had given up all thought of going home.

  Today he had on a dark brown frockcoat, a beribboned white shirt and yellow breeches and hose. Sariana risked a discreet glance downward to see if Etion had taken to wearing a codpiece yet. She was relieved to discover he had not. There was still hope for him, she thought with wry humor.

  Sariana smiled brilliantly for the first time that day as she exchanged greetings and took the seat beside Etion. He had already ordered tea and a plate of pretty little cakes for her. She couldn’t help but notice, however, that he was on his second mug of ale. A year ago he had kept his drinking limited to the evenings. But sometime during the past few months he had started ordering ale at luncheon. Now he was starting in on the ale at mid-morning tea. The knowledge disturbed her. Etion was changing. To take her mind off that unhappy thought she picked up her teapot and examined it with an admiring eye.

  It seemed to Sariana that nothing in the western provinces was ever plain or merely functional. The westerners loved decoration, the more elaborate, the better. The tea Etion had requested had arrived in a beautiful little pot designed to look like a wedding coach, and every centimeter of the cakes on her plate was frosted with fancy swirls and patterns.

  “You look most charming today, Sariana. A very elegant, cool and serene little lightbird among all these mad, fluttering, squawking keenshees. How are you?”

  “A bit frazzled to tell you the truth.” Sariana wished very badly that she could confide completely in Etion. He already knew just about everything there was to know about the Avylyn family finances. He might as well know about the missing prisma cutter and the hired Shield, too.

  But she couldn’t betray the Avylyns’ confidence. They were frantic about getting the cutter back. They were also adamant that no one outside the immediate family know the scandalous truth. The hiring of Gryph Chassyn and the reason why were to remain dark secrets within the household.

 
; “You don’t know how good it is to see you today, Etion. It’s been the usual madhouse at the Avylyns for the past few days, especially with the annual costume ball coming up soon. I had no idea of the enormity of the event when I agreed to budget for it.”

  “I warned you. Nobody here entertains in a casual fashion. I suppose Lady Avylyn wants to spend three times as much as you have allowed?”

  “At least. Etion, nobody in that family has any concept of economy or financial prudence. It’s a wonder the Clan has survived this long.”

  Etion grinned cheerfully, his handsome face crinkling into fine lines at the corners of his eyes. Rakken was several years older than Sariana. There was a touch of distinguished gray in his red hair. He had been one of the first people from the eastern continent to make the trip across the ocean when contact had been reestablished between the two groups of colonists. He had arrived nearly five years earlier and had stayed.

  Rakken’s prowess in banking and his sophisticated business education had given him a strong edge over the local competition, most of whom had only a primitive concept of economics and finance. There had been no business clans on board The Serendipity. The descendants of those first colonists had been improvising ever since. Rakken was making a lot of money showing the locals how the banking game was played by professionals.

  “Are you going to hold me responsible after all for getting you into that situation?” Etion asked humorously.

  Sariana flashed him a quick, laughing smile. “Are you kidding? I may complain from time to time, but you know perfectly well I’m grateful to you. If I manage to rescue the Avylyns a lot of things could change in my life.”

  The amusement in Etion’s eyes faded and a bitterness that was usually well-concealed briefly took its place. He took a long swallow from his mug. “You still think that if you prove yourself here you’ll be able to go home to Rendezvous and take your place among the rest of your Clan as if nothing had ever happened? You think the folks back home will accept success here in the benighted western provinces as real success? Don’t set yourself up for a fall, Sariana. Don’t feed yourself a lot of false hopes.”