Ashlynne woke with a start. Sitting up, she looked around, panic rising within her when she found she was alone. She clutched the controller in her hand, wondering why he hadn’t taken it from her. Leave her out here alone, would he? Well, he wouldn’t get any further! She stood up, about to activate the controller in her pocket, when she saw him reclining in a pool a few yards away.
Chin up, shoulders back, she marched toward him, determined to remind him that, no matter what had happened, he was her slave.
As she drew closer, the first thing she noticed was his clothing lying in the grass. That meant…heat flooded her cheeks. He was naked.
And asleep. He was leaning back against the side of the pool, his arms resting on the edge, his head back. His hair gleamed like wet ebony. She stared down at him, at his dark head and broad shoulders. She had a foolish urge to run her fingers over his beard. He looked peaceful, lying there. Steam rose from the water; even from where she stood, she could feel its inviting warmth.
Biting down on her lower lip, she watched him a minute. He was sleeping soundly, she had no doubt of that. Did she dare?
She glanced back at the other pools. She could bathe in one of them, she mused, but the water in the pool she had drunk from had been cold. She looked down at Falkon again. The warm water in this pool was much more inviting.
Before she could change her mind, she removed her dress, petticoat, and shoes, and slipped into the pool, as far away from Falkon as she could get. She would rinse the dirt from her hair, soak for a few minutes, and get out before he woke up.
The water felt like heaven. It was bath water warm and effervescent, bubbling like champagne. Keeping a wary eye on Falkon, she rinsed the dirt from her hair. He continued to snore softly, so she lingered in the water, enjoying the warmth, letting it soothe her weary muscles. She had never walked so far in her whole life.
She looked up at the sky, wide and blue, and thought how quickly her life had turned upside down. One day she was the pampered heir to a black crystal mine, and the next she was an orphan with no home and no family, forced to rely on a slave for her very existence.
Surely the gods must be laughing.
She looked over at Falkon to make sure he was still asleep, only to find him watching her.
“You’re awake!” she exclaimed, and quickly crossed her arms over her breasts.
“So are you.”
She stared at him, wondering if he was trying to make a joke. He didn’t look like a man who laughed often. “Turn around so I can get out.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
She reached behind her, delving into the pocket of her dress. “I won’t ask you again.”
Falkon cursed softly. One way or another, he was going to have to get that damned controller away from her. Why did he always think of it too late? He wondered if, in some perverse corner of his mind, he liked being her slave.
“You win,” he muttered, and turning his back to her, he stood up.
She couldn’t help staring at him. His broad back and shoulders, both scarred by the lash, tapered down to a trim waist. She chided herself for staring at him, but couldn’t seem to draw her gaze away. She had seen so few men in her life. She remembered the first time she had seen Falkon. He had been nearly naked then, too, lying face down in a pool of his own blood. She had a sudden urge to go to him, to run her fingers over the scars on his back, to apologize for every hurt and humiliation he had endured in the mine.
“You dressed yet?”
She jerked her gaze from his back and scrambled out of the pool. She had nothing with which to dry herself. She tugged her undergarments up over her wet flesh, then pulled her dress over her head.
“All right,” she said. “When I tell you to…”
But he didn’t wait for her permission to get out of the water, didn’t wait for her to turn her back. He stepped out of the pool, water sluicing down his body. His skin glistened like wet bronze in the sunlight.
Like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake, she could only stand there, staring. His broad back tapered to a trim waist, firm buttocks, and long, well-muscled legs. Only when he started to turn around did sanity return. With a squeal, she hastily put her back toward him. And then, eyes tight shut, she wished she’d had the nerve to look.
Falkon grinned as he stood there, letting the sun bake him dry. Shy little virgin, he mused. She had probably never seen a naked man in her whole life. No doubt she would faint dead away if he walked over there and took her in his arms…
Shit, where had that thought come from? Where, indeed, he thought ruefully. He had wanted her ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, looking down her nose at him as if she were a queen and he some lowly maggot. And that, he thought, just about summed it up. She was royalty, and he was a mercenary, and he would be wise to remember it.
Grabbing his clothes, he stepped into his briefs and breeches, then sat down and tugged on his boots. He drew in a deep breath and then, blowing out a long weary sigh, he stood up. “Let’s go, princess.”
Ashlynne didn’t argue. She glanced over her shoulder to make certain he was dressed, then fell into step behind him, wondering if the nightmare she found herself in would ever end.
Chapter Thirteen
“Are we going to stop soon?”
“At dusk.”
“How much longer ‘til then?”
“About an hour.”
Another hour. It seemed they had been walking for years. It had been two days since they left the pool. They walked and walked, and yet the distant mist-covered mountain that housed Enjine Base Nine never seemed to grow any closer. Her legs ached, her back ached, her head ached. She was hungry and tired and thirsty. And dirty. To look at her, you couldn’t tell she had ever bathed. Her shoes and stockings were splattered with mud, she was sticky with perspiration, her hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in a tangled mass of snarls.
She glared at Falkon’s back. Didn’t he ever get tired or hungry or thirsty?
Left, right, left. She put one foot in front of the other, too tired to think. She was almost asleep on her feet when she bumped into Falkon, who seemed to have stopped for no apparent reason.
It jerked her out of her daze. She peered around him, surprised to see a dozen men huddled around a campfire a short distance ahead. A delicious aroma rose from several cook pots suspended on a rod over a small cheery fire.
A faint rustle sounded behind her and she glanced over her shoulder to see a man coming toward her, weapon in hand. Another man appeared from the left.
She heard Falkon swear, only then realizing that the men were wearing the colors of the Tierdian army. They might be his enemies, she thought, but they were her salvation.
“Hello,” she said, relief evident in her voice.
“Who are you?” the nearest man demanded.
“Lady Ashlynne of the house of Myrafloures,” she said imperiously.
The two men exchanged glances, then both bowed their heads in a gesture of respect. “My lady,” they murmured.
She waved a hand in Falkon’s direction. “This is my slave, Number Four. To my knowledge, we are the only survivors from the mine.” She thought of Magny and Parah and Carday, of Meggie and Otry, of Dain and Dagan. Of her parents. Always her parents. “Have you heard of any others?” she asked, hoping for a miracle, hoping they would tell her that her mother and father and all the others had miraculously survived.
“No, my lady,” one of the men replied. “We have made a thorough sweep of the area. The attack was concentrated on the mine and…” His voice trailed off and he gestured at the campfire. “Come, warm yourself. We have food and drink.”
“Thank you.”
The men at the campfire stood up at her approach, their lusty glances quickly turning to respect when they learned who she was. In minutes, she was wrapped in a warm blanket and seated near the fire, a plate of food in her lap. She took several bites. It was rough fare, almost tasteless, but filling. A tall,
slender man with short brown hair and a sweeping moustache came forward and introduced himself as “Commander Lyle Casman, at your service, my lady.”
Ashlynne smiled at him, then waved a hand in Falkon’s direction. “Could you please see that my slave is given something to eat?”
“Of course, my lady.” Casman grunted softly. “He looks familiar. What’s his name?”
Ashlynne glanced at Falkon. He shook his head imperceptibly, a warning in his eyes, or was it a plea?
“I don’t know,” she said. “Does it matter? We call him Number Four.”
“I guess not,” Casman said. “How long have you owned him?”
“He’s been in our family for several years,” she said. “My father bought him from a merchant on Nardia. Is something wrong?”
“No.” Casman studied Falkon intently for a moment, then shrugged. “He reminds me of someone I used to know. So, my lady, where are you headed?”
“To Enjine Base Nine. I was hoping to get a transport to Trellas.”
“Do you have relatives there?”
“A friend of my father’s lives in the capital. Rugen Hassrick? Perhaps you know him.”
“Of course. My men and I are heading in the general direction of Enjine Base Nine. It would be an honor to see you safely there. One of our scouts received a transmission saying that the Romarians have arrived at the capital. The Hodorian army has been routed and the Romarians have sent a unit to the starbase to maintain the peace.”
“Thank you, Commander.” She smiled up at him. “If you don’t mind, I should like to rest now.”
“Of course. Please, use my shelter.”
“Thank you.” Setting the plate on the ground, Ashlynne stood up and beckoned for Falkon to follow her.
“Do you have the controller for the collar?” Casman asked when they reached his shelter. “If not, we can find some restraints.”
“I have it,” Ashlynne said, reaching into her pocket. “Sit, Number Four.” She refused to meet his eyes as she activated the shackles on his wrists and ankles, but she could feel his angry gaze burning into her back.
“That’s better,” Casman said. “One can’t be too careful.”
Ashlynne nodded. “Yes, that’s what my…”She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to cry. “What my father always said.”
Casman cleared his throat, clearly disconcerted by her tears. “Rest well, my lady.”
“Thank you for everything, Commander,” she said, and ducked inside the small shelter. Left alone, she sank down on the cot and let her tears flow. She would be safe now. Casman would see her safely to Enjine Base Nine, where she could get a transport to Trellas. Niklaus and his family would take care of her. For some reason, that thought only made her cry harder.
“Ashlynne?”
She sat up with a start at the sound of Falkon’s voice.
“Leave me alone.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked gruffly.
“Nothing.” She sniffed back her tears.
Falkon stared at the door of the shelter. He could picture Ashlynne sitting inside, her eyes red and swollen. His first reaction to the sound of her tears had been to let her cry. Spoiled princess. How quickly she had fallen back into the role of lady of the manor! Asking Casman to feed him as if he were some stray dog she had picked up along the way instead of the man who had saved her life.
He swore softly. “Ashlynne? Release me.”
He could almost hear her thinking about it. A moment later, the manacles separated.
Certain he was making a mistake, he entered the shelter. She was sitting in the middle of a pile of blankets, silent tears washing down her cheeks. He should hate her, he thought. He should wring her pretty little neck, grab the controller, and make a break for it. With any luck, he could get away unseen. Instead, he drew her into his arms. She stiffened in his embrace, then relaxed against him, crying softly. Her tears fell like warm rain on his chest.
She hiccoughed as her tears subsided, then drew back to look at him. “Why didn’t you want me to tell Commander Casman your name?”
“We went to flight school together. He’s a stickler for obeying the law. He’d probably execute me on the spot if he knew who I was.”
“You don’t think I would let him do that, do you?”
“I don’t think you could stop him. Shh.”
“Lady Ashlynne?”
“Yes, Commander?”
“Your slave is gone.”
“No. He’s in here, with me.”
There was a pause. “In there?” She could hear the suspicion, the disapproval, in Casman’s voice.
“Yes. I…” Ashlynne grabbed the controller and activated the manacles on Falkon’s wrists. “I thought I saw a… a…”
“Snake,” Falkon whispered.
“I thought I saw a snake in here.”
Falkon grinned at her, then turned and scuttled out of the shelter, careful to keep his head down so Casman couldn’t see his face.
“Should I come in?” Casman asked.
“No, thank you, Commander.” She forced a laugh. “I feel so silly. It was just a…a stick.”
“Good night, then, my Lady.”
“Good night.”
The sentries were posted, the fire was extinguished, and silence joined the darkness of the night.
Falkon gazed into the distance, weighing the wisdom of trying to make a break for it with his hands bound together.
He cursed softly as Ashlynne activated the shackles on his feet, thereby making the decision for him.
Staring up at the sky, his hands and feet effectively hobbled, he cursed the spoiled young woman in the shelter until sleep claimed him, and he dreamed of freedom, and revenge.
* * * * *
They broke camp early the following morning. Ashlynne sat in the front of the shuttle, beside the Commander, who was, in Falkon’s opinion, overly solicitous, fawning and fussing over her as if she were as fragile and helpless as she thought she was. Falkon rode on the floor in the back of the shuttle, his back braced against the rear wall, his hands and feet bound at the Commander’s insistence.
They reached Enjine Base Nine two hours later. Ashlynne released the manacles on Falkon’s ankles so he could walk and he followed her and Casman down the narrow corridor that led directly from the shuttle landing bay into the base. Everywhere he looked, he saw the hated dark blue uniform of the Romarians. They had already taken over, he thought, and wondered again why they had sent the Hodorians to attack Tierde. Try as he might, he could find no logical reason for it. Tierde had been a neutral planet, sanctioned as such by the Confederation.
Casman escorted Ashlynne to his private quarters and bid her make herself at home.
“You,” he said, beckoning to Falkon, “will come with me.”
“Where are you taking him?” Ashlynne asked.
“No need to worry your pretty head,” Casman said. “He will be well taken care of.”
Ashlynne bit down on her lower lip, not liking the look in the Commander’s cold gray eyes. “He is not to be hurt,” she warned. “He is my property, and I will not have him abused.”
“I know how to handle slaves,” Casman said.
“I think I would rather he stayed here, with me,” she decided, and, with a wave of her hand, commanded, “Sit there, Number Four.”
Choking back a sharp retort, Falkon sat on the floor where she indicated, careful to keep his head lowered.
“You spoil him, I think,” Casman said.
“He saved my life,” Ashlynne reminded him. She smiled sweetly. “For all his rather fearsome appearance, he is quite harmless.” She bit back a smile. “Almost a eunuch.”
Casman grunted. “I’ll post one of my men outside the door, just in case. There is a bathing salon off the bedchamber at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you, you’ve been very kind. Would it be possible for me to get in touch with Ambassador Hassrick?”
“Certainly.” He gestured at the com
port. “My home is yours.”
“Thank you.”
He bowed over her hand, kissed her fingertips, and promised he would return in an hour with a change of clothing. Then, with a last disdainful look at Falkon’s bowed head, he left the room.
As soon as the door slid shut, Falkon stood up and held out his arms. “Release me.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Dammit, woman, turn me loose!”
She shook her head. “You had best behave yourself,” she warned.
“Or what? You’ll sic Casman’s hounds on me?”
She drew the controller from her pocket. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”
Falkon glared at her, his hands flexing. He had large hands, capable of breaking her in half. “I’m warning you,” he said, his voice a low growl, “don’t use that damn thing on me again unless you intend to kill me.”
Ashlynne glared back at him. “Don’t threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you.”
“I should have let Commander Casman take you away.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know. But it isn’t too late.”
“Go ahead, then, call him back.”
Ashlynne blew out a deep breath. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“I’m not the one being difficult, princess.”
“I’m trying to help you. And stop calling me that.”
“Then turn me loose, dammit.”
“No.” She lifted the controller, intending to activate the shackles on his feet. “I’m going to make a call and then I want to take a long hot bath.”
“Dammit, at least leave my legs free.”
She hesitated, frightened by the anger in his eyes. “But I want to bathe.”
“So bathe! I’m not going to stop you, or spy on you.” He glanced longingly at the bed in the next room. “All I want to do is get some sleep.”
Her thumb hovered over the controls. “I don’t trust you.”
“Dammit, princess, I don’t have any designs on you. I just want some sleep.”
“Very well.” She watched him walk into the bedroom and sink down on the bed.
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