His Highness the Duke

by Michelle M. Pillow

  “I’m going to die without ever having lived,” she whispered, looking up at the wide universe beyond her vision. Suddenly, she felt the appeal of Riona’s carefree life and all of the whims she’d had since childhood flooded in. There was so much she’d wanted to do and try but she’d been too scared to actually live. So she had locked herself away in a metal box and hid. “I thought I’d have more time.”

  Bron glanced back at her, but she pretended not to notice. Her words weren’t meant for him anyway.

  Bron did not like how his first day of marriage was progressing. His bride spoke as if she had been taken against her will. Every time he opened his mouth to speak to her, he felt as if he was dictating to a servant. No, actually, he usually sounded less harsh with his servants. He just couldn’t seem to help himself with her. She tried to get out of their marriage and his first reaction was to order her to stay. He was a warrior, a leader. It was in his nature to fight and command.

  Glancing over his shoulder at his reluctant bride, he frowned. Perhaps his little woman wasn’t as breakable as he’d first thought. She seemed to hold her own against him just fine. Then seeing the troubled expression brewing in her gaze, he wasn’t so sure. She did look delicate, fragile, even hurt. Had he hurt her? Had he put that look in her eyes?

  Bron took a slow, deep breath. What did he know of a woman’s moods? He felt his world pulling apart. This was not how things were supposed to be between a man and his woman.

  The gods had a plan. He trusted fate, even when it seemed to laugh at his torment. Perhaps his crystal had been damaged? Micro-cracked? Tainted? Had the gods’ message for him gone awry because of it?

  Why couldn’t she just accept their fate? Bron had to believe that the gods would not have willed this union if it was not meant to be. He may have had his doubts over the years, but he knew that much. The whole remembered history of his people proved their traditions had merit.

  And, yet, a tiny fear whispered in the back of his mind. What if the gods had not blessed him? What if he was cursed? What if they had merely sent Aeron to him to tell him to give up, to not go to the ceremonies, to live a life alone? They had sent her to break his crystal and then leave him. As the fear grew, he felt himself wanting to hold on tighter. She was his only chance at happiness, at marriage, at children, at love. He had to find a way to please her, so long as it didn’t compromise his honor.

  She was coming to the north cabin with him. That was a beginning. They would have time alone to sort this out.

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much said in Qurilixian tradition about how to restore one’s honor after a lapse. Lapse? His failure as a husband was more than a mere lapse. It was a catastrophe. He’d taken his wife before the ceremony was finished. What should have been a time of discovery had turned into a, well, it had turned into something purely fantastic and utterly satisfying in every physical sense. Regardless, physical ecstasy did not excuse his behavior. The reason there was nothing in the tradition about reviving honor was because tradition demanded that they not lose their honor to begin with.

  Bron was torn. How could failure still feel so sweet? He’d give anything to touch her again, to kiss her. Perhaps that was his punishment. He’d been weak on the night it mattered most. Now he must be strong until the gods forgave him for that weakness—even if it took months, years, a lifetime. No matter how much he wanted her, no matter the temptation, Bron could not make love to his wife until his honor was restored.

  Aeron wanted nothing more than to grab her “husband” and drag him to the rocky ground next to the narrow path to have her way with him. She wanted to feel his fullness again. She wanted to kiss him and touch him and rip his clothes off his body. She refrained, barely, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from circling through her brain. Now that she knew what pleasure could be found, she wanted it again, and again, and—sweet black hole of temptation—she wanted it yet again after that.

  The damage was done. Her fate was sealed. What point was there in resisting what she wanted? And what she wanted was pleasure. She wanted her heart to pound, her breath to catch, and her body to explode and weaken. Oh, and his hands, she wanted to feel those hands on her skin. She had become mesmerized by their strength.

  A steep incline forced her back onto the ceffyl. Bron ordered her to hold on tightly to the center horn as he shifted to his dragon form and leapt ahead. The shift should have been frightening, but it wasn’t. She remembered all too well the powerful feel of him shifted beneath her thighs.

  Bron whistled once and the ceffyl began to climb, moving deftly for its size up the incline in a zigzag pattern. She held her breath and closed her eyes tight as it moved. Only when the ground leveled beneath her did she open them again.

  A long building stood at the top of the cliff. The walls were constructed from blocks of gray stone and topped with a flat roof. A dirt path led around the side toward the thick brush. Unlike the forest by the palace, the trees here were skinny with thick willowy tops. Behind her, the view stretched for miles. From this spot, it would be easy for Bron to see her on the trail should she decide to make her way back to the palace alone. Though, even without the view, she imagined Bron would be able to track her quite easily. This was his home world, after all.

  At the moment she was too tired to even think of running away. Letting go of the ceffyl’s horn, she carefully dismounted and took several steps away from it. The beast ignored her, more interested in the thin slivers of gray-blue grass growing on the ground. It licked at them, twirling its tongue before pulling the blades into its mouth. A low hissing noise sounded as it chewed.

  Aeron walked away from the cliff’s edge toward the cabin. The stone wall was precisely cut and smoothed. A single plank of wood made the door, the grain spiraling from the middle. Most likely, it was part of a larger tree at the base of the mountains that had been carted up the mountain paths. Bron reached above his head and placed his hand against the middle stone. Seconds later the door unlatched. He hooked the side with his finger and pulled it open.

  Aeron looked up as she passed under the hand scanner, but the unit wasn’t noticeable. Inside lights from the narrow window streamed in. Bron turned a rectangular mirror mounted on a tall column. It reflected the sunlight onto other strategically placed mirrors higher on the walls and instantly bathed the cabin’s interior with light. The entryway led to one large room with three arched doorways. The walls and floor were stone, built from the same kind of precisely cut blocks as the exterior. There wasn’t much by the way of décor beyond the fine craftsmanship of the structure. A large fire pit stood barren in the middle of the room. A domed hood hovered high above it, leading up a long column to the ceiling to filter out the smoke. Right now the pit was dormant.

  A shadow was cast along the ceiling as Bron walked in front of the reflective mirror. Aeron glanced at him before continuing her exploration. Cushioned furniture surrounded the fire pit. The bases were a combination of stone and wood. A long polished stone table stood at the far side of the room, large enough to seat a dozen people. Benches curved around its oval shape.

  “Bathing room,” Bron said, motioning to the closest door. “The kitchen is over there on the opposite side and that doorway at the far end leads to the sleeping chambers. Since this cabin is normally used to house hunting parties, there are twelve rooms. You may have your pick of any one, though I might recommend the one at the end of the hall. It is the largest and most comfortable.”

  “Is that where you will be staying?” she asked, unable to help the small smile forming on her face.

  “I will take one of the other rooms,” he stated.

  At that her smile frowned. “Why? I don’t see any logic for it. No matter how this situation is going to end up, we’ve already been intimate. I see no reason why we don’t continue as long as we’re together.”

  The man actually looked shocked at her forward proposal. She wondered if she should fake embarrassment, but really she saw no need to pretend. She was m
erely stating the logical conclusion to their relationship. The damage was done. They’d found pleasure. It’s not like she could get pregnant. The Federation unit she worked for was very strict about issuing their birth control shots and she’d just had hers—even though she’d never found the need for them until now.

  “If you are unsure about our marriage, then I think it will be best if we don’t—”

  “If you wish to stay married to me, you must find me attractive. Have your bodily responses toward me changed?” she countered. “Mine haven’t. I find you quite enjoyable to look at. Physical pleasure need not coincide with marital arrangements. I am able to separate the two in my mind. I believe you could come to the same conclusion should you choose to consider it.”

  He actually looked speechless.

  “It’s not as if you had never been with a woman before me.” Aeron gave him a pointed look and dared him to answer. He didn’t move. “I thought so. Our races are different in that regard. I did not anticipate that a man as well,” she looked him over, trying to think of a tactful way of saying, well endowed with obvious sexual appeal and a body that radiated a natural aphrodisiac. Instead, she said, “that a man with your physical presence would be without female company.”

  “My company was before I entered into my first ceremony,” he tried to answer, only to stop with a pained look. “I do not see how this conversation is relevant to our current situation. Now that we are married, I want no other woman.”

  “Great, then you admit that you do want me. Should we find one of those rooms?” Ok, so maybe she was being obstinate on purpose. Aeron found she liked him a little speechless. It beat his dictating tone. “Well, you think about it. Last room at the end of the hall is fine with me. I will take your word that it is the best.” She began moving toward the kitchen doorway. “Is there a food simulator? I’m famished.”

  “No. We don’t require them,” he answered. “The larder should be stocked with basic supplies.”

  “I’ll manage. I’ve taken cooking uploads.” Aeron had never really used the cooking skills, but whenever she had downtime, she liked to learn new things. “I cannot guarantee the outcome, but I believe I should be able to make something palatable.”

  “I will assist you.” Bron followed, almost eagerly, as if he were glad to have something to discuss other than sex. She found his reaction curious, considering how open his people were to expressing their primitive physical states. “You will need help with the cooking fire if you have never used one.”

  Bron lit a fire in a stone oven built into the wall. Hand levers brought down various styles of cook tops from grates to smooth metal. The gentle sound of water from a small indoor waterfall created a constant background to her work.

  The problem with uploads was they gave all the information a person needed, but the practical application was somewhat trickier to apply. Aeron knew how to cut the meat Bron supplied for her, but the actual process of it was much more difficult than she’d anticipated. Luckily, Bron was able to provide her with spices and herbs to compliment the meat’s natural flavor, otherwise she would have been lost on how to combine their tastes. Cooking was an exact art, one that the uploads only provided vague skills about. Each planet had unique spices and herbs, staples and flavors. Without more specifically detailed instructions into local cuisine, it became a matter of trial, error, success, and instinct. Even with the challenges, she found she enjoyed the creative process.

  “Are you looking for something?” Bron asked from the doorway. His hair was wet and combed back from his face. He’d changed his clothes from the ceremonial tunic to slightly less auspicious in design. The loose-fitting pants and long overtunic were crafted from a lightweight, flowing material. As he leaned against the archway, it molded against his hips and chest to give a teasing hint of what lay beneath. She found herself staring at the curve of his hip, forgetting what she’d been doing. “My lady?”

  “Ah,” she glanced at the food, “something to put this on? A trencher is what the palace servant called it.”

  Bron nodded, pushing away from the archway. He ran his hand over a sensor near the waterfall. The sensor’s design was hidden in the stone wall, completely unnoticeable if a person didn’t know where to look. The wall opened and he took out two small, square trenchers for the food. Without waiting for her to ask, he plated the strips of meat and carried them out to the table.

  Aeron followed him. Wine goblets had been set out on the table. She caught the scent of soap and eyed his wet hair as he sat down. “This cabin has a water bath?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked down at her gown. It was the same one she’d worn to the crystal breaking ceremony, and then on the journey up. She’d been sitting on the ceffyl. It was not the most pleasant of smelling creature. Slowly, she took a seat, not feeling as confident as before.

  “I will show you after we eat,” he offered.

  “Thank you,” she said, reaching for the pronged dining tool. She watched as he tried a strip of meat.

  Instantly, a surprised smile crossed his features. “You have a natural talent for food.” He quickly took another bite, chewing and nodding his head in approval.

  Aeron smiled, pleased by the compliment. She tried a bite. It might have been the work behind it, or just self bias, but she was sure it was better than anything that could come from a simulator.

  “You will make me a very fine wife,” he continued. “I am pleased. My brothers will enjoy visiting.”

  Her smile fell. The man didn’t seem to listen to her at all, or was just too obstinate to admit defeat. How many times, how many ways, did she need to tell him she was not staying on as his wife? The more confused her situation became, the more she longed for the safe, familiar metal Federation quarters. Even as she thought it, she knew she also longed for adventure. The conflicting desires warred inside her.

  She ate in silence. When they were done, she said, “I would like to bathe now and then perhaps sleep.”

  “Of course.” He stood and motioned for her to follow him to the bathing room door. “This way, my lady.”

  Bron tried not to think of his wife, her body naked and wet, trailing with soap as she bathed in the cabin’s large tub. He tried not to think about it, but with every enhanced sense in his body focused on the sounds coming from the bath he couldn’t help himself. Water dripped, splashed, stirred. Hands brushed flesh. He heard the slide of them, the silky glide of soap easing the way. Next, a tiny moan, a relaxed sigh, a deep breath, and then the seductive process started all over again.

  He stared at the stone door frame, able to see each minute grain in the polished gray pattern. His hand lifted and pressed against the stone. Bron caressed the hard surface, running his finger along the curved edge of the frame. She was his wife. He wanted to touch her. He caught her scent, the smell of woman mingling with the bathwater and suds.

  By all the gods, he needed to touch her. And yet, he couldn’t. Not until he was sure he’d atoned for his sins.

  Perhaps bringing her to the privacy of the cabin had been a misguided idea. What else could he have done? He’d been ordered by the king. Yet here, alone with her, hearing the sound of what could only be interpreted as her soapy hands gliding over her body, he could hardly be trusted to atone for anything. The beast inside him raged, wanting him to break down the door and let instinct take over. Her words earlier filled his mind. She wanted him in the most physical of senses. Knowing of her desire, hearing it actually formed into words, had nearly driven him to the brink of sexual madness.

  She was his. His. And he wanted nothing more than to stake his claim.

  His heart pounded, growing so loud it blocked out all other sounds. He breathed hard, drawing in ragged pants. Sweat beaded his brow. Every nerve inside him tingled, threatening with a shift. Knowing he had to put distance between them or risk another disgrace to his honor, he pushed away from the door and practically ran outside. The ceffyl lifted his head and warily eyed Bron’s near
wild state.

  Bron sprinted toward the trees, letting the shift take him so that he could move faster and push his body harder. The sexual desire inside him calmed, but the need did not go away completely. It only became buried beneath the physical shell. Thankfully, the Draig did not take women in shifted form. The fact gave him some reprieve from the ache in his gut.

  His heart pounded in a hard steady rhythm and he became aware of his surroundings. Every sound and smell filled his mind, from the tiniest insect to the loudest birds up on the high peak. The mountain peaks surrounded the valley, rising above where the trees would grow. If he ran uphill, he’d find a clearing of rocks where some of the most dangerous creatures on the planet roamed. Rarely was he able to indulge in such pure freedom. Here, he was just a man, unburdened by his title and duty, away from the prying eyes of the people and the threat of their enemies.

  The pleasure of the excursion caused him to run faster. In this moment, everything was as it should be. He understood his surroundings. The forest made sense. He knew his body, its limits, and pushed past them. His muscles burned. His heart raced. His mind cleared of all thoughts, but one. Aeron.

  7

  Gone.

  Aeron wasn’t sure what to make of being abandoned. She hadn’t thought to be worried as she left the water bath to find a bed. She’d assumed Bron merely slept in one of the other bedrooms. The next morning, or at least what she assumed was morning as she couldn’t be sure by the constant stream of light coming from outside, he was still missing. After preparing and eating food, she checked the bedrooms. They were empty.

  The ceffyl lounged in the lawn, untethered and apparently completely unconcerned with anything beyond licking its own hoof. The expanse of the outdoors made her nervous. She checked around the outside of the cabin, carefully keeping an eye on the nearby forest.