LC03 Shield's Lady

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Sariana had learned enough about the jewelry business from the Avylyns to recognize the strange silvery crystal when she saw it. She had also learned something of its value. The clasp on the pouch was worth a fortune. Prisma was the rarest and most expensive of all jewels. The man sprawled on the floor did not look as if he could afford such an expensive closure for his pouch. Perhaps he’d stolen it.

  “My apologies if I offend the Clan,” Sariana said firmly, “but to be honest, the man does not appear to be all that dangerous. That’s the problem when one puts too much credence in First Generation myths and legends. One forgets to deal in facts. I see no reason why we can’t continue with our plan just as soon as he wakes up.”

  Lord Avylyn was troubled. “Do you really think you can deal with him, Sariana? How are we going to explain what happened in the tavern?”

  “Don’t worry,” she assured him confidently. I’ll do the talking.” She glanced again at the black leather kit attached to the Shield’s belt. Something made her very curious about it. On impulse she rose to her feet and strode briskly around the table to where the man lay motionless.

  “Sariana!” Lady Avylyn gasped. “What are you doing? Don’t touch that.”

  “Nonsense. It might be useful to know what the Shield considers valuable enough to decorate with prisma.” Sariana knelt down beside the man and examined the leather strap that held the pouch to the belt. She put out her hand to undo the fastening and then paused uncertainly. Behind her she could practically hear the others holding their collective breath.

  Up close like this, the Shield appeared larger and infinitely more solid than he had looked from across the room. A man lying sprawled on his back fooled the eye slightly and looked smaller than he actually was. But now that she was kneeling beside him, Sariana got a whole new perspective. She began to sense why the Avylyns were so wary of the Shield they had captured.

  There was a smooth, well-muscled strength in his shoulders and the lines of his thighs were sleek and powerful. He was lean and tough looking, and the arrogant set of his features—even when unconscious—only served to emphasize his other hard qualities.

  Sariana realized she was forgetting to breathe. She found herself inexplicably and acutely aware of the man in a way she couldn’t explain. She was suddenly, intensely interested in him. No, it was beyond that. She realized that for some reason she was fascinated by him. If she had any faith in western tales of goblins and fairies, she might have believed she was under a small spell. But that was a crazy notion.

  Her fingers hovered above the fastening that held the leather pouch to the Shield’s belt, but she didn’t quite touch the object. Instead she found herself examining the man’s face more closely.

  His hair was black, as dark as a midnight sky. He wore it much shorter than the fashionable men in town. Sariana’s gaze moved quickly over his closed eyes. She speculated briefly about their color and decided they would probably be dark. Dark eyes were common on the western continent. Then her gaze went to his sharp nose, took in the well etched but grim shape of his mouth and went on to the hard lines of his jaw.

  The Shield could not be deemed handsome, but Sariana knew with a sense of shock that this man would never need to trade on his looks. It was clear to her that he would make his way in the world on his own terms, even though he moved on the fringes of respectable society.

  A tiny shiver went through Sariana as she crouched, gazing down at the man on the floor. She realized that she had been staring at him much too long. She had to break the strange sense of enthrallment.

  Angry at the effect the unconscious Shield had had on her, she quickly jerked open the leather catch that held the pouch to the belt.

  Lady Avylyn took a deep, shaky breath and Mara gave a soft cry as Sariana lifted the pouch free. Jasso and Bryer just groaned.

  In that instant the Shield lifted his dark lashes without any warning and Sariana had the answer to her earlier question about the shade of his eyes. They were an unfamiliar blue-green. She had never seen eyes quite that color before in her life. They locked immediately on her face. Sariana was gripped by the unnerving conviction that she suddenly knew far too much about him.

  He could be dangerous.

  An implacable enemy.

  He would be a fiercely possessive lover.

  Sariana felt the breath catch in her throat at that last, unbidden thought. For a few shocking seconds she questioned the fundamental intelligence behind the plan she had initiated and talked the Avylyns into accepting. She wondered if she had just made the biggest mistake of her short career as a business manager.

  But as she had told her clients, there was no turning back.

  Gryph Chassyn focused painfully on the woman standing above him, the one who had had the breathtaking arrogance to actually separate him from his weapon kit. No sane westerner would have risked such an act, unless the fool was looking to get his or her throat slit.

  The woman was still standing because Gryph sensed that she did not realize the significance of what she had done. There were others in the room who did realize it, but he ignored them. The woman was the one who held his kit. She was the one he watched. She fascinated him.

  Gryph ‘s first coherent thought after he concluded she was not an enemy was that he wanted her. Badly. A ravenous hunger was pouring through his veins. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced around a woman. It left him feeling disoriented, frustrated, and shaking with a strange tension.

  He forced himself to focus all his attention on regaining his control.

  Gryph moved carefully, levering himself up on one elbow. His eyes never left the woman who held his kit. He had been fighting his way up through the hazy, drugged fog inside his head for several minutes, listening half consciously to the voices of the five people in the chamber. Having the weapon kit taken from him had instantly jerked him back to full awareness.

  “Return the kit to me,” he ordered calmly. He held out his hand with a casual imperiousness he hoped would do the trick.

  But the woman actually clutched the leather pouch more tightly and took a quick step backward. She managed a surprisingly brilliant smile. Gryph decided that under normal circumstances he would probably find himself responding to that smile. But whatever had happened to him at the tavern was not normal.

  “I’m so glad you’re awake at last,” the woman said easily. She walked briskly back to her place at the table where the others sat stupefied by the small scene that had just taken place. As she sat down, she put Gryph’s weapon kit on the polished black stone in front of her. “I’m Sariana Dayne. I am the business manager for the others here with me tonight. They form the Prime Family of the Avylyn Clan. Well, most of the Prime Family. Luri isn’t with us. He’s a bit too young for this sort of thing.”

  “I think I’m a bit too old for this sort of thing,” Gryph said, feeling the need to stop her lightly tumbling words.

  He recognized her accent now. She was from the eastern continent. Had to be. That explained her recklessness regarding his weapon kit. Gryph forced himself to draw a deep, slow breath while he tried to sort out the various elements of the bizarre situation in which he found himself. It was difficult to think with a raging headache and a body that seemed far too heavy and awkward. At least he had the rush of lust back under control. At this point he was grateful for small favors.

  The woman’s smile became even more brilliant. “I’m sure you have a number of questions and you don’t look as if you’re feeling very well, but I assure you I can explain everything.”

  “An excellent idea.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”

  It was an order, not a polite request, and he saw that Sariana understood that at once. The others appeared almost mesmerized with anxiety. That was good. Gryph was not unfamiliar with the response. It left him free to concentrate on Sariana. H
e had already decided that she was the most dangerous one in the group.

  Sariana cleared her throat with a small, discreet cough and managed to keep the smile in place. “We have a business proposition to put to you, Shield.”

  “My name is Chassyn,” he replied through set teeth. “Gryph Chassyn.” Sariana’s subtle air of feminine challenge set off immediate responses in his system. He did not like his present position in front of her. He needed a little more advantage. With great effort he rose from the cold marble floor, disgusted to find his legs were decidedly unsteady. It took nearly all his strength and willpower just to stay on his feet. He hoped the Dayne woman didn’t notice the effort it cost him.

  “Gryph Chassyn,” Sariana repeated thoughtfully, as if tasting the name. “Well, Gryph, let me tell you about the business deal we would like to present to you.”

  Gryph winced as pain shot through his head. He made his way slowly over to the center of the curving stone table so that he was directly opposite Sariana. Then he braced himself with one hand on the polished surface. He tried to make the movement nonchalant, but the truth was he was afraid he would wind up back on the floor if he didn’t use the table for support. He looked steadily at Sariana who was sitting just out of reach. His weapon kit was sitting just out of reach, also.

  “First tell me what you put in my ale.”

  Before Sariana could open her mouth to answer, another voice spoke up. A small, miserable, infinitely contrite little voice.

  “It was a mistake,” the young Avylyn female cried. “It wasn’t my idea. I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you. Aunt Perla’s concoction was only supposed to, uh, relax you slightly.”

  Slowly Gryph turned his head and glanced at the young woman. For the first time he focused on the other people at the table. His eyes narrowed with lazy menace as he recognized the beautiful blond who was gazing at him with such a stricken expression.

  “Ah, yes,” he said blandly, “the tavern wench. I seem to recall your name was Mara. I owe this headache to you?”

  “It was all her idea,” Mara blurted, pointing the tip of her jeweled fan at Sariana.

  Gryph nodded and turned back to face Sariana. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” He drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop in a gesture of barely suppressed annoyance. “My own fault,” he muttered. “I must have seen the bottom of too many ale glasses by the time Mara the sexy tavern wench sat down at my table. I was careless.”

  “About our business proposition,” Sariana continued in a brisk tone.

  “What about it?” Gryph eyed his weapon kit and wondered if he was up to making a quick grab for it. The heaviness that gipped his muscles was fading, but not very rapidly. Whatever had been put into his ale had probably mixed with the alcohol already in his bloodstream and created a strong drugging effect. Given the small differences between a Shield’s physical reactions and those of other people, it was predictable that the drug hadn’t worked quite as planned.

  Sariana spoke quickly. “A certain valuable object has been stolen from the Avylyns. We wish to engage you to get it back for us.”

  Gryph glanced at her, considering. “Why didn’t you just ask me straight out if I wanted a job? Why the drug routine?”

  Sariana sighed. There was regret in her eyes but her voice didn’t falter. “We sent three messages to the apartments you are renting. You chose to ignore all three.”

  “You were behind those stupid little notes requesting a business meeting?” he asked in astonishment. If he’d known she’d been the author of those very formal, very elegant, very arrogant notes he would have been at the Avylyns’ front door immediately.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was,” Sariana replied. “Now, as I was saying, if you hadn’t ignored them—”

  “I ignored them,” Gryph said calmly, “because I’m not looking for a job at the moment.”

  Bryer spoke up, his curiosity getting the better of his nervousness. “Then why are you here? Shields rarely spend much time in Serendipity or any other town unless they’re looking for a job.”

  “Or a wife,” Gryph reminded him.

  The Avylyns stared at him.

  “I wondered if that might be your reason,” Lady Avylyn said quietly. She looked uneasily at her daughter.

  Gryph could have told her not to worry about her precious Mara. He had absolutely no interest in the young woman. She might have made an amusing bed partner for one night, but she was not a potential Shieldmate. He had known that as soon as she had sat down across from him and asked him to buy her a glass of ale. He’d already had a fair amount to drink and he had given up his search for the evening. Under such circumstances, Mara had appeared temporarily interesting.

  Sariana was paying no attention to the undercurrents in the room. She seemed unaware of the Avylyns’ new source of anxiety as she plunged ahead with her business proposition. Gryph had to admire her perseverance. And her tongue. The latter never seemed to be still for long. He leaned on his hand and fantasized briefly about shutting her up with a kiss. It would be interesting to see how much longer she could continue to chatter once he had his tongue inside her mouth.

  “When you proved unwilling to meet with us,” Sariana was saying crisply, “I made the decision to use a mild hypnotic in the hopes that it would put you into a more, shall we say, receptive state of mind while we negotiated. I realize that probably strikes you as somewhat bold, but under the circumstances I felt I had no other option.”

  “Bold?” Gryph examined the word. “No, I wouldn’t say it was bold. Dumb, perhaps. Stupid, maybe. But I don’t think bold quite captures the spirit of such a piece of idiocy.”

  Sariana’s brows came together in a quelling expression. “Look, I have apologized for the inconvenience you have experienced. Believe me, I would not have attempted such a thing if we had not been quite desperate.”

  “Inconvenience? Is that how you describe what you did to me? You have an interesting way with words, lady.”

  “I am trying to explain to you exactly what happened so that we may proceed in a rational manner to conclude a perfectly reasonable business deal,” Sariana said with obviously forced patience.

  “Plan A has obviously failed. Have you got a Plan B?” Gryph told himself that if he weren’t feeling so rotten he might almost be enjoying himself. The lady was amusing, as well as a challenge.

  And she still had her small, silvered fingertips around his weapon kit. He knew she sensed its importance to him and he also knew she was frantically trying to figure out how to use the kit to get what she wanted. It would be interesting to see what she did next.

  Sariana Dayne was no great beauty, Gryph decided objectively. But her sleekly styled hair and quietly refined clothing made her stand out in comparison to the vivid Avylyns. He liked the sparkling intelligence in her hazel eyes, her small tilted nose and the fullness of her lower lip. She had vital, appealing features. She was the kind of woman who drew a man with more subtle lures than those used by giggling, fluff-headed beauties such as Mara Avylyn.

  “We don’t have what you might call a Plan B,” Sariana said slowly, tapping her silver nails absently against the black kit under her hand. “But I would like you to listen to our original proposal.”

  “Did anyone warn you that a Shield’s services don’t come cheap?”

  Sariana rallied to the challenge as if she thrived on this sort of encounter. Her smile was more dazzling than ever. “I was told such services are quite expensive, when they can be purchased at all. I understand you usually spend your days chasing bandits, but that you will occasionally take on private commissions.”

  “Occasionally.” Gryph tried a smile of his own. One that showed plenty of teeth. “For a price.”

  “Yes, well, I should make it clear right from the start that the Avylyns have something of a cash flow problem at the moment.”

  �
�A cash flow problem,” Gryph repeated blankly.

  “Just a small one,” Sariana assured him breezily. “Nothing that won’t be under control within the next few months. It means, of course, that you would have to be willing to accept your payment at a later date than you might under most circumstances, but that shouldn’t be a major hurdle in our negotiations.”

  Gryph held up a palm in an effort to slow her down. He was finding it difficult to follow the conversation. “Wait a minute. You mean you want me to do the job now and then sit around and wait a few months for my pay?”

  Sariana lifted her chin. “I assure you, the Avylyns’ cash flow problem will be under control very soon.”

  Gryph glanced around at the elegantly dressed women of the clan. They stared back anxiously. “There’s enough jewelry hanging around the ladies’ necks to finance several weeks or even months of my services. Assuming I’m willing to go to work for you.”

  “Most of that lovely jewelry is in hock to the bank, I’m afraid,” Sariana retorted cheerfully, as if it were a minor detail. “Collateral, you know. We needed to raise vast sums to revive the business. It’s necessary that the Avylyns’ continue to keep up appearances in the meantime, of course. They must continue to dress and entertain according to their social status. But I’m afraid there’s no cash to spare from the personal accounts. And even if we could find a way to sell off some of the jewelry from the Avylyns’ private collection, we would be highly reluctant to do so. The sort of gossip that would start would be devastating to the Clan at this juncture.”

  “What made you think,” Gryph asked with grave interest, “that I’d be willing to wait for my payment?”

  Sariana drew a breath. Her small, sweetly rounded breasts rose behind the green fabric of her gown. Gryph found himself watching the movement instead of paying attention to what Sariana was saying. She had very nice breasts, he decided. Nice waist, too. A man could lie on his back, put his hands around that waist and lift Sariana up and over himself so that she straddled his thighs. Then he could ease her down onto his shaft until he filled her completely. Gryph decided he would like to see the expression in those hazel eyes if he did exactly that. His mind was so engrossed with the image he had created for himself that he caught only bits and pieces of what Sariana was saying.