Riana stepped cautiously into the shadowed room without being told. The once-luxurious moonsilks and cushions couldn’t hide the fact the space was small and cramped. Not a dungeon, then. Curious, she took another step inside, barely noticing Darias had released her wrist. Her breath caught in her throat as a miasma of pain, humiliation and hopelessness beat at her. Instinctively she stepped back, only to come up against Darias’ hard body.
“What is this place?” The words scraped out of a throat raw with the power of the old emotions.
“The women’s cells.”
Cold, unemotional, almost detached. Riana put her arms around her waist and hugged. “They’ve been deserted for a long time.” She rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, trying to instill some warmth. She wanted to turn, to see if his face matched his tone, but couldn’t quite bring herself to do so.
“A little over ten years.”
Something buried deep in the words made her turn. Just as she feared, his expression was as cold and remote as his voice. But there was an undercurrent, a tension, that produced a funny little ache right in the center of her chest and made her wish she could forget her anger at him. She shook it off. So what if this place brought back bad memories for him, it wasn’t doing much for her state of mind right now, either.
“Why’d you bring me here? So you could ‘punish’ me in private?”
The full force of his attention centered on her. “Keep pushing and I won’t bother to make it private.”
She believed him, but she still couldn’t stop the rash words from pouring out of her mouth. “So how many women have you punished here?”
“One.”
It was a solid blow to the chest. For a second, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even think. And then fury rushed in, a fury that was inexplicably mingled with hurt. “You bastard. You kept a woman here, and now you think to keep me here? Did you enslave her as you enslaved me?”
“Unlike you, Cireena knew her place. I brought you here to show you I am not an unreasonable man. That life could be pleasant if you would conform. My mistake. Maybe, instead, I should show you your place.” He reached for her.
The moment he touched her, she knew this encounter was different from last night. There had been a distance then in every slow brush of his fingers against her most intimate places, a planned quality that was now absent. His hands closed over her shoulders. He pulled her closer.
Determined that this time she wouldn’t be the victim, Riana wound her arms around his neck. She felt him start, and smiled. No, this wouldn’t be like last night where he remained in total control while she had none. She’d make damn sure of it.
She nipped his ear. Hard.
A low, dark sound emanated from deep in his throat. He tangled his fist in her hair, pulled her head back. “You live dangerously.”
A slow lift curled the corner of her mouth. She slid her hands down his chest, shaping bone and muscle with exquisite care. The antique gold of his eyes darkened, and the already harsh planes of his face tautened, became almost savage as she went lower. Cupped the fierce erection pushing at the leather breeches.
“This says otherwise.”
Immediately, she knew she’d erred. Desire drained out of his expression and he shoved her away. Riana wanted to curse at the withdrawal. Despite her fury with him, despite last night, she sensed his bringing her here was important somehow. And now she’d ruined it.
She did curse when he left without a word. The sound of the key turning in the old-fashioned lock hovered mockingly on the air.
Chapter Three
Riana opened the door to his office and saw Darias’ dark head bent over some papers he had spread out on his desk. Good. She’d finally run the vseal to ground. After last night spent in that horrid cell, kept company only by the ghosts of women long gone—very unhappy women, she might add—he owed her a few explanations. She shuddered. Oh, she didn’t mean actual ghosts, but the rage, the hurt, the sadness of generations of women had permeated the faded elegance and stone walls of the women’s quarters. Sleeping had been out of the question.
She slipped inside and locked the door behind her.
Let him try to run now.
Last night had, in some indefinable way, changed things. She’d had plenty of time to think, locked in that cell. But even after hours of contemplation, she was no closer to an answer. No closer to understanding why he’d really hauled her down there in the first place. All she knew was that with break of dawn and Bryta coming to set her free, Darias was no longer just her barbaric captor but a man with many, complex layers.
Not that he seemed in a hurry to explain any of those layers to her.
She narrowed her eyes. She’d swear he was avoiding her. In fact, she was certain of it. How else to account for him leaving a room mere moments before she entered? She’d chased him all over this blasted keep for hours. Not that she was complaining about her freedom of movement, mind. She just didn’t understand it.
And Riana needed to understand the world around her, it was the only way to maintain an edge.
She saw him stiffen at the faint click of the lock, but he didn’t lift his head. Curious as to what could hold his attention so strongly, she moved closer. Looking over his shoulder, she saw it was an official request to open trade negotiations from a country-state called Far Islands. The trader in her coming to the fore, she skimmed the document.
“Wow, they want trade with you pretty bad. What’s the catch?”
Darias straightened in his chair, a remote expression on his face. “‘The ‘catch’, as you call it, is irrelevant. Nexar will not deal with Far Islands.”
“Is the offer a trick then? Do they produce inferior goods?” Riana settled her hip on the edge of the huge, darkly gleaming desk, her grievances forgotten for the moment. Trading was as necessary to her as food. More, maybe. “Will they not honor a contract?” Stupid move if that was the case. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Darias would not hesitate to punish such a transgression.
“No, they produce high-quality goods.”
Damn, she wished she could tell what he was thinking, but there was a barrier in his eyes that kept her from even guessing. “So what is it then? Nexar needs trade. Heck, I wasn’t awake for more than ten minutes before I learned of the drought and the strain it’s put on the people and the economy.” Heat rose up from the tops of her breasts and spread to her cheeks. She didn’t need a mirror to know she was turning red. Riana hurried on, hoping to divert his attention from mention of her capture. “Don’t you believe they’ll reciprocate? Put it in the contract.”
Very deliberately, he picked up the letter on its thick paper. “We will not trade with them.” He ripped the paper in half then ripped it again before tossing it in the trash. “We’ll maintain what trade we have with Trinearia.”
Riana was stunned at the finality in his tone. The very thought of cutting herself off from a source of potential goods or market went against every belief she held. She could only think of one reason for his attitude. “Are you at war with them?”
“No.”
Stumped, she stared at him. “But you need them. At least as a potential market. I’ve heard the talk. Nexar is in trouble. It’s obvious that trade with Trinearia—”
“Enough. It’s of no concern of yours.”
“But it’s stupid.” Zethra, if she had to crash on a planet, why did it have to be this backwater, backward world that couldn’t tell its ass from a nebula?
“I said enough.”
“Look, I know on this world women are considered dumber than a rock, but I’m a trader—”
“You had one ship—and couldn’t keep that. A warrior would never have lost his ship. That doesn’t make you a trader, it makes you lucky.”
“Why you—” She sputtered to a halt. Riana was still trying to find her tongue when he rose to his feet, went around the desk and unlocked the door. The door open, he paused and turned back.
“You’d do be
tter to concentrate on pleasing me than meddling in the matters of men.” He shut the door behind him.
Riana came off the desk in a rush and yanked the door open. “I’d rather please a Slubrian leech than you, you ass! At least it appreciates its prey! You, you’re just a damn robot with no feelings and no finesse!” A spurt of fierce satisfaction went through her when he stopped in the middle of the cavernous hall then turned to face her.
“Finesse enough to have you begging and pleading. We’ll finish this in my chamber.”
Riana watched him walk away and wanted to chew on something. His arrogance would do nicely. “We’ll finish this in my chamber,” she mimicked. “Like hell.” She jumped when a gentle voice admonished from beside her.
“You really shouldn’t taunt him that way.” Concern etched Bryta’s face.
“He started it,” she defended, hating that he caused her to be on the defensive.
“The Supreme Chief has been very patient with you. You must not test his temper.”
“Bryta, tell me. Don’t you ever strain against the restrictions put on you? I mean, doesn’t it piss you off that you’re treated as if you don’t have two brain cells to rub together?” It did her, and she’d only been here a couple of days. How did Bryta stand it?
“It is the duty of men to guide women.”
“Says who?”
Her friend looked confused so Riana clarified.
“Who says women need guidance?”
A crease formed between the other woman’s eyes. “It is a rule.”
Riana persisted. “Who made the rule?”
“Why, why…”
“Men. Nice little game they’ve got going. Women have to play by the rules and the men get to make the rules. Don’t you ever want more? Don’t you and the other women ever want to stand on your own two feet?”
“Gaith values me. He treats me very well.” Now Bryta sounded defensive. A part of Riana regretted that, but another, larger part couldn’t let it go.
“He treats you as if you were nothing more than a reflection of some male’s idea of the perfect woman. As if you exist only to make his life easier. He, and every other man as far as I can see, don’t want you to have a thought they don’t approve of.” Riana became aware of a small circle of women crowding around them. One woman was nodding and another looked thoughtful.
“It is different where you came from?” someone asked.
“Much. I run my own business and my own life. And I am not so unusual. Women hold positions of power.” She saw the skepticism on several faces and hurried on to convince them. “One woman I know is a major and she commands many men.” Well, okay, so she didn’t actually know the good major, not as a friend, but she sure as heck respected her as an adversary. Riana kept that bit of information to herself.
“How can that be? It is common knowledge that women are weak. We need our men to take care of us.”
“It’s only common knowledge if you allow it to be.” She let that sink in.
“Bryta, the Supreme Chief wants his slave to wait in his chambers. Take her there.”
The blonde beside her jumped. “Yes, Gaith.”
Riana sighed. Habit was hard to break. She went willingly with her new friend, unwilling to get her in trouble.
She waited until they were on the stairs and out of earshot of Bryta’s mate. She glanced once more over her shoulder to make sure they couldn’t be overheard. “Bryta, why won’t Nexar trade with Far Islands?” She couldn’t let it go. Not only was it a bad business decision not to at least explore the option, but something told her it was important.
“We’ve always traded with Trinearia.”
Riana restrained a sigh. “I know, but why? Why not trade with both?” She gave a tug at her top, conscious of the way her nipples were dark shadows behind the nearly sheer material. What she wouldn’t give for her own clothes. The indecent outfit was only one of the many issues she wished to discuss with Darias.
Tension entered the slender frame. When she spoke, she sounded hesitant. “I think it might be because the Supreme Chief’s mother was Far Islander.”
“What? You’re kidding?” Riana linked her arm with the other woman’s. She leaned in closer. “If they are his mother’s people, why is he so intent on ignoring them?” A thousand possibilities, from a political marriage gone bad to a kidnapped bride, ran through her mind. “Does Darias look like his mother?” she asked as it occurred to her.
“I don’t know. She was never allowed to leave the cells.”
* * * * *
Layers.
She’d gotten a hint of them last night, but Bryta’s revelation somehow shocked Riana. Why, she didn’t know. Darias had told her the cells had only been closed off for ten years. Obviously, they’d been in use during his mother’s time.
She put a hand on her stomach at the sudden sick feeling there.
Was the cell she’d slept in last night hers? His mother’s? Was that the roil of emotion she thought she’d sensed in him?
Riana pressed harder. No, she decided. Not his mother’s, but the slave he’d punished, Cireena’s. Why she was so sure, she didn’t know, but she was sure.
A man of many layers.
Sneaky too. It finally dawned on her that, although it seemed no one was paying attention to her movements, his men kept tabs on her whereabouts every nanosecond of the day. Darias had eyes in the walls even as he gave her the illusion of freedom.
Even though she’d learned the location of her ship—it was tantalizingly close, stored in a makeshift shed inside the keep’s walls—the constant surveillance meant it unlikely she’d get within a hundred meters of it. And without Mischief she was stuck on this damn rock because, from what she’d seen, they didn’t have the technology to send a message to her home sector. Until she could figure out how to slip by his men undetected, she had to watch how hard she pushed Darias. Because that freedom, limited though it was, was vital to a successful escape.
And because she wanted to stay out of that fracking cell. She repressed a shudder.
She cut a glance in Darias’ direction from the corner of her eye. He stood, staring out the glass door that opened onto the balcony. The late-afternoon sun was fading beneath the horizon, casting the huge garden there into shadows. She hadn’t been in the garden yet, but the glimpse she’d gotten seemed to go on forever. Tension tightened the broad shoulders, but there was an air of aloofness, of remoteness that warned her not to approach.
“Why didn’t you tell me your mother was Far Islander?”
“Because it’s none of your business.”
Ouch. The barbarian was back. But she hadn’t gotten where she was in business by giving up. “Is she the reason you won’t trade with them?” For a moment, she didn’t think he’d answer. The sun sank fully, leaving behind a twilight that barely penetrated the lush foliage. Birds, little more than dark shadows flitting through the flowers and trees, returned to their homes to settle for the night. The white gravel of the path that beckoned one to explore, laid a ghostly trail.
He turned.
“You just never learn, do you?” That stolid mask was firmly in place.
And it set her back up. The man could get under her skin faster than anyone she’d ever met. Around him she seemed to have no control. “Learn what?” she challenged. “I learned lots of things today. I learned that Bryta, gentle Bryta, fears Gaith’s wrath and thinks that without a man she is useless. I learned there is unrest among the guilds, exacerbated by the drought. I learned you refuse trade with a country-state that can help. I learned that your mother never left those thrice-damned cells where you left me last night.” The last was said with deadly precision.
“You didn’t learn the one thing you should have.”
She tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes as he crossed to stand directly in front of her. “And what’s that? My place as slave?”
“To shut your mouth.”
Chapter Four
The damn w
oman couldn’t keep her mouth shut if her life depended upon it.
Darias sat in his office, his gaze shuttered as he stared out the window at the light, almost bluish-white sky. Heat shimmered off the parched ground while, nearby, the Grangian mountain range took on a silvery-green hue, not the rich, vibrant green that was its normal appearance. Darias frowned. Nexar needed rain. The largest of the three country-states on the planet Tarbos, the prolonged dry spell was having a disastrous effect on its economy. Even the crystal birds refused to sing.
A hot, spicy breeze blew through the partially open window, ruffling the piles of reports on his desk that demanded his attention. He ignored them, turning his mind toward his latest problem.
His men were complaining, afraid he was going soft. Not a good thing when he was trying to lure his country out of the excesses and myopic views bequeathed to him by his father, and his father before him, and…
He pinched the bridge of his nose. After last night, he was inclined to agree with them. Even begging and pleading for release, she’d managed to scold him. His ears burned. Riana had a mouth that would shock a pirate. And the notions she came up with… He shook his head. If she were a man, she’d make one hell of a commander on sheer guts alone.
Darias snorted. Yeah. Right. If a man, she wouldn’t live long enough to make commander. He’d have to kill her first or she’d be after his position.
Not for the first time, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking when he’d taken her slave.
A slow burn started. The woman knew how to push him. If it wasn’t the clothes— And what the hell was obscene about them? Women had been wearing the silk tunics and trousers for centuries—it was the fact women didn’t hold the same position in society as men. Krel, she even had the nerve to comment on his decision not to seek trade negotiations with the Far Islands. The woman hadn’t even been in Nexar for a week, and she believed herself qualified to second-guess his policies.
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