by JC Cassels
A thrill rocketed down her spine. Logic screamed for her to deny her feelings for him. It was easier and safer if they maintained the illusion of casual lovers. After all her doubts and fears over his feelings for her, this declaration fell on her ragged emotions like a soothing balm. His words wove a tender web around her, binding her to him. The bond she’d been struggling to resist broke through her crumbling will and settled in her soul like a nesting bird.
“As long as my heart is beating, nothing destroys you without first going through me,” he said. “Anything bent on destroying you will have to destroy me to get past me. I love you, Bo, and I commit myself body and soul to you on whatever terms you say, for today – tomorrow – for the two seasons we have here – for the rest of my life, if you’ll have me.”
He gently brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. That light touch sent a tremor through her. Her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths.
“You are the only woman I love – the only woman I have ever loved. I am yours – whether you want me or not, in whatever capacity you’ll have me.”
Her lips parted slightly as the magnitude of his vow crashed over her. She sagged against him, her fingers closing around his lapel to hold herself upright. His lips took hers. Prepared for a fierce onslaught, the tender patience of his kiss buckled her trembling knees. If not for his arms around her, she would have fallen.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. Her heart swelled to bursting.
She loved him.
Charming rascal, remorseless killer, dangerous predator, he was a chameleon who donned and shed other personas like most people changed clothes. Despite the web of lies he wrapped himself in, she believed in him. Her doubts and fears melted like snow on warm stone, spilling over in the tears that slipped down her cheeks. The intensity of it threatened to choke her, but she didn’t care. Doomed or not, she willingly accepted what he offered and in that moment, in that kiss, she surrendered.
As if he sensed what it had cost her, his lips left hers and tenderly caught the tears that rolled down her face.
With his hard arms securely around her, tucked up against his heart, his warm breath against her skin, Bo felt cherished…and safe.
He lifted his head and searched her face. The tender affection in his gaze righted her world. That was all the truth she needed.
He slowly smiled. “Maybe you do feel some of what I feel.”
“I don’t know if you realize what this means.”
“That I’ve invoked the Crhede Rhei?”
Bo nodded, a slow smile on her lips.
“That was for your benefit.” Amusement lit his blue eyes. “According to Lahtrecki tradition, I made you my bride as soon as you stepped through the door of my villa.” With the edge of his thumb, he lightly brushed at the trails of her tears. “I’m not playing, Bo. I’m not taking any chances. I don’t believe in impossible. I believe in you and me. I don’t think there’s anything that can stop us.”
He nudged her back into motion, resuming their dance.
Bo glanced at the faces around them. Their gentle, knowing smiles, the kindness in their eyes, took on new meaning. This was a wedding reception. All evening, Blade had been receiving congratulations on their behalf.
“You could have asked me first.”
“You’d only have refused me. That’s not an acceptable option.”
“You should have given me a choice.”
“I did. I told you it would get more complicated. Did I lie?”
“I have responsibilities. I can’t just join with anyone.”
She tried to muster some anger with him but failed miserably. Her traitorous heart reveled in what he’d done.
“You do know how to turn my life upside down.”
He grinned. “Fun, isn’t it?”
“Fun isn’t the word I’d use. You and I need to come to an accord on the definition of fun.”
Bo shook her head and closed her eyes as the possible repercussions crashed in on her.
“Holy Maker, Dev…what have we done? I can’t be married to you. An affair is one thing…but this…”
His jaw tightened. He gripped her hand and stepped away from her, leading her from the terrace into the garden, away from the curious looks. He didn’t stop until they reached a stone bench tucked into an alcove in the high wall. He gestured for her to sit. Reluctantly, Bo eased down onto the seat and stared up at him.
Blade shoved his hands into his pockets and paced in front of her like a lawyer making a case to a jury.
“Look, I don’t want anything from you,” he said at last. He held out a hand in supplication. “I’m not expecting some charmingly domestic life somewhere. I don’t anticipate anything different from what we already have. We’re not the kind of people who have that kind of life. I’ve told you how I feel about you. I know how you feel about me, even if you won’t say the words. I’m not sorry I’ve stolen you or tricked you into being my bride.”
“It’s not that I don’t want it…” she closed her eyes and sighed. “There’s just so much to consider. I’m The Barron and you’re First Sector IC. I have to think about what’s best for Mondhuoun.” She opened her eyes and peered up at him. “I’m not supposed to even entertain the idea of joining with anyone without the approval of the Mondhuic General Council. You have to be investigated, and they have to vote…and that’s even if I weren’t a wanted traitor.”
Unable to contain her nervous energy, Bo practically vaulted off the bench and paced along the path, her heels clicked on the stone pavers with every step. Her mind raced as she considered the problem from every angle.
“Your father didn’t worry about their approval when he chose his bride,” Blade said. “Why should you?”
“My mother left him when I was two!” Bo shook her head. “Maker, you really weren’t kidding about it getting more complicated.”
“I love you. You love me. That seems straightforward to me. Take it for what it is.”
Bo barely heard him. “I don’t expect you to understand.” She shook her head. “I’m a noble and you’re…”
“What?”
“Dev Fossey.” She smiled. “You’re a war orphan. Hell, Blade, you don’t even know your real name.”
A sardonic smile twisted his lips. “Put it that way and for all you know, I may be a lost noble.” He shrugged. “Maybe even a Sovran.”
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh no!” she said. “We don’t want that! I’m not just a noble, I’m a ruling noble. It would be one thing if you were a Second Sector noble. That might work as long as you weren’t from a military house and we could get it approved by the Sector Council. If you were a noble of any other sector, we’d have to petition the Sovran Council for permission. If you were a lost Sovran from any house but Scull, it would be completely out of the question.”
“Why?”
“Mondhuic autonomy has been the only thing to keep the House of Scull in check for centuries. Other Sovrans have tried to extort, steal or marry for control over The Black Wing. Any change in allegiance would upset the balance of power in the Inner Commonwealth. Lord Scull would mobilize the entire Second Sector Consular Guard against that kind of alliance. It would set off a chain of events that would start a civil war with my home planet as ground zero. Talk about a nightmare scenario…”
Blade looked at her oddly for a moment. “Complicated,” he said.
Bo canted her head at him. “Complications like that I don’t need.” She sighed and shook her head. “It’s bad enough that you’re First Sector IC. Lord Scull is going to view it as divided loyalties. When he gets wind of that, it’s going to get ugly. Never mind the fact you’re living in the Second Sector.”
“How ugly?”
Bo rubbed her forehead. “Hopefully just economic sanctions, but I wouldn’t count on it. He’s a vindictive bastard. He could end your holofeature career, arrest you, deport you… Sovrans can be very petty when they want to be. Power corrup
ts you know. The older I get, the less I like Sovrans and their politics.”
“To hell with politics.”
“We can’t ignore the politics of our situation, Blade. I’m The Barron. You’re First Sector IC.”
“It shouldn’t matter, Bo.”
“It wouldn’t if it were just about you and me. But it’s not. Your first loyalty is to Andre Marin. My first loyalty is to Mondhuoun. You’re not the kind of man who can change allegiance any more than I’m the kind of woman who can walk away from the obligations of my birth. Regardless of what you call yourself, you can’t stop being who you are any more than I can.”
“No. I can’t. I can’t stop being your husband, Bo, and you can’t stop being my wife,” he said. “Kah Lahtrec marriage laws have no provision for divorce. Politics be damned. For good or ill you and I are joined together, and there isn’t a council in the Commonwealth that has a say in that.”
Bo searched his face for any sign that he might be lying. Finding none, she sagged against the light post.
“Holy Maker, what have we done?”
“It’s right, Bo,” he said. “You and me…it’s the right thing. It’s meant to be. I can’t explain how I know, but I just know.” He shook his head. “It’s the way it’s supposed to be. Whatever issues there are, it’s the solution, not the problem.”
“Oh, it’s very much a problem,” she said. “And if you were a noble, you’d get that. This isn’t one of your holofeatures, Blade. You can’t save the Commonwealth and win the girl with a grand gesture. This is real life with very, very tangled, complex diplomacy. Unless you’re M’hinn Scull’s bastard son, there’s no way to resolve this peacefully short of my abdication.”
One after another, she ran through every possible option she had left.
“What are the reciprocity laws as they pertain to the rest of the Commonwealth?” Bo asked after a long moment.
His smile held little humor. “It doesn’t matter, Bo. The law here says you and I are man and wife until one of us dies. They won’t acknowledge the dissolution of marriage in any court in the Commonwealth.” He shook his head and sighed. “If you and I don’t acknowledge it, once our time here is over, who’s to know? It may as well have never happened.”
“But it did happen.”
“Yes.”
“That means something to me.”
“It means something to me, too.” He looked away and studied a nearby water fountain for a long moment. “Look, we don’t have to decide anything tonight.” He held out his hand to her and offered her a smile, his mask once more firmly in place. “We’ve got plenty of time to consider our options before we leave. It’s a beautiful night. What do you say we just enjoy it? No politics. I love you. You love me. To hell with Mondhuoun. To hell with our other responsibilities. For the two seasons that we’re here, can’t that just be enough?”
She smiled and took his hand. “I’d like that.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her hand. “So would I. I just want to enjoy being married to the most incredible woman in the galaxy – even if it’s only for a little while.”
She tenderly caressed his face. “Likewise.” Her lips quirked in a smile. “So who am I married to? Dev Fossey, Blade Devon, Darien Roarke?”
“It doesn’t matter what name I call myself, Bo. Every one of them loves you. Every one of them wants you, and that’s the truest thing I’ve ever told you.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he silenced her with a finger across her lips.
“Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t say anything. You don’t have to.”
His fingers threaded through her hair. He pulled her closer until his breath fell on her lips. He paused, his gentle smile caused her heart to slide sideways in her chest and curled her toes.
“Maker you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
His soft lips brushed hers, drawing a tiny sigh from her. Pulling her close, his mouth teased hers until they both forgot what they’d been talking about.
***
“So he was standing there, holding the two ends of it together…just staring at it like that was going to put it back together again.”
Bo broke into fresh peals of laughter and fell against him.
“And he never knew it was you?” She giggled.
He spread a hand across his chest in mock indignation. “Madam, I’ll have you know that I was nowhere nearby when that happened. I have witnesses!”
“I’ll bet you do.”
Blade grinned. Maker, how he loved hearing her laugh like a schoolgirl.
Coming to Kah Lahtrec had been the best choice for the both of them. The past season of lazing in the sun and improvising physical therapy in the waves had done wonders for her. The sickly pallor that had more to do with being poisoned than spending too much time in deep space was long gone, replaced by a healthy golden hue. She glowed with good health. Even the white scars from her shoulder surgery had faded.
The onshore breeze lifted her sun-streaked hair and blew it across her face, coyly playing keep-away with it as he helped her catch the errant locks. Gathering her hair in one hand, she lifted the other to slip a band on it. Wincing, she checked herself. Pain chased the mirth from her eyes.
He raised up onto his knees and took the band from her.
Her grateful smile touched off the kindling in his soul. He’d crawl across the Aveen Plain for that smile.
“Woman, you have me so wrapped,” he said, flashing her his lopsided grin.
Her sun-warmed skin smelled of the scented oils and lotions that the local women had convinced him to purchase for her to keep her tender flesh from burning. Headier than any expensive perfume, the sweet, nutty fragrance teased him. She smelled of sun, and sea, and the most delectable treats from the candy shops in the marketplace.
If only he could feel as sure that he’d done the right thing by not telling her the whole truth about being the First Sector Heir. He’d never expected her to react so strongly to the possibility. As it was, he had a difficult enough time trying to convince her of the merits of their union. From her perspective, a partnership with the House of Marin would be disastrous in the extreme. Until he could talk her around, she was better off not knowing. If she had known, and Kendall had learned of it, he’d have killed her where she stood and dumped her remains in the nearest incinerator, with Andre Marin’s blessing.
A legal and binding marriage to him made her a little less expendable, but not by much.
Fumbling with her hair and the band, he tied it out of her way to the best of his ability, taking care not to hurt her. When he finished and sat beside her on the colorful blanket he’d spread over the white sand, the look in her amber eyes made him want to do it all over again. Resting his arm on her uninjured shoulder, he gave her hair a playful tug. Closing her eyes she rubbed her cheek against his forearm.
“Married life agrees with you,” he said.
With an impish smile, she opened her eyes and wriggled closer to him. “I’m happy, Dev,” she said, so softly he had to lean closer to hear her over the roar and hiss of the waves rolling ashore. “I wish we could stay here forever.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “That can be arranged,” he intoned.
He bent his head to kiss her and she met him halfway.
No sooner had their lips touched when his hand-held com-set signaled insistently from his shirt pocket back onboard the boat. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter as she pulled away from him. A wicked smile curled her lips.
“You’d better see who that is.”
With a sigh, he climbed to his feet and walked over to the small sailboat he’d pulled onto the shore. Reaching across the gunwale, he plucked the device from his shirt and checked the readout. Trae Lovis. He frowned.
“I need to take this,” he said.
“Go ahead,” she said. She lay back on the blanket and closed her eyes with a contented sigh. “I’m just going to lie here and bake. I could get used to this.”
/> Blade opened the channel and held the com-set against his ear. “Devon.”
“Hey, Blade.” A male voice, heavily accented with the Sixth Sector, crackled across the speaker. “It’s Lovis, man. I t’ink I foun’ a man who c’n help you.”
“Help me with what?”
“You still lookin’ for di Barron, ain’t you?”
Blade’s eyes roamed over Bo. The pale green, skimpy swimsuit left little to the imagination. It clung to her as if painted on. He wondered idly if it weren’t.
“Depends,” he said. “The father or the daughter?”
“Di fadder. Dis man, he say he’s seen ‘im. He wants that reward you promise.”
“Are you sure?”
Bo lifted her hand to shield her eyes as she blinked against the bright sunlight while she studied him.
“He say di guy he’s got info on is in his late t’irties, medium height, brown hair, an’ he speaks Gallic,” Lovis said. “But his eyes, man…he went on about his eyes. He say dey’re not quite brown…dey’re kind of…gold. I ask if he saw any distinguishin’ marks. He say he’s got t’ree freckles on his left forearm in a perfect line.”
Blade glanced down at Bo’s left forearm. Three brown freckles showed dark against her skin. They were in a near-perfect straight line, the one in the center slightly offset – the Hunter’s Belt. The Barron’s mark.
“He callin’ himself di Barron. Right now, he in a psych hosp’tal in di Fif’ Sector.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right…” He covered the microphone with his hand. “Think we may have found your father,” he said softly.
Bo sat up on the blanket and hugged her knees to her chest, waiting for him to elaborate. Squinting against the glare, she peered up at him.
“I t’ought you might be inter’sted. You know di Barron’s brudder? He want…know about dis man, too. Seein’ as how…his brudder…all, he say…meet you on...”
The last words dissolved into crackling static.
“He’ll meet me where?” Blade frowned. “Damn.” Interstellar communication was hit and miss in the Outland Fringe.
“Lovis? Are you still there?” Blade glanced at the readout on his com-set. Still connected.