“Guest or prisoner. What's the difference? But understand this, I will not stay here. I will return to my home."
“How so, witch?"
Liandra tossed her head, ignoring her weakness. The pain in her arm throbbed anew. “I have ways and means of reaching my father. If not physically, then mentally."
Connal frowned. “By that you mean your bed? I thought as much.” He strode up to the bed. Before Liandra could stop him he had removed the four main crystals. “When you told Fianna about the workings of this bed, ’tis a good thing I listened. I know by removing these you cannot enter the dream-state again, though your bed will be available to you for your other purposes. Forever more, these crystals remain with me."
Liandra flew at Connal, her fingers clawing at his hands. He held the crystals high above his head and with his other hand he kept her at bay.
“Liar! Thief! Give them back to me, at once!"
“Take these, Fianna, and get you gone!” Connal dropped the crystals into her hand while restraining Liandra.
Fianna fled to the door. She paused and turned imploringly to Connal.
“Go!” he shouted.
With a sob, she raced away.
Furiously, Liandra tore herself free from Connal's grasp. “Return my property at once! Damn you!"
“No! I will not have you endanger your life, nor betray my people by your witchery."
“Why—you!” Liandra hurled herself at him.
Connal dodged her flailing fists. She beat ineffectually against his chest. Taking her hands between his, he held her gently, but firmly.
“I am sorry, Liandra. ’Tis my people I must consider first and foremost. I did not know it would come to this. Truly. Believe..."
“Everything about you has been a lie!"
He frowned down at her. “Have a care, Liandra. I will suffer your temper and your insults this once, because I be to blame. However, do not overly try my patience."
Liandra wrenched herself away from him. As she paced the room, she saw Dougall and Angas hovering in the corridor, their eyes wide and disbelieving at the spectacle before them.
“What are you staring at?” She slammed the door in their faces.
“Hold there, woman!” Connal strode up to her. Taking her by the shoulders, he shook her once. “Understand this well! ’Tis my doing and mine alone which keeps you here. Vent your anger on me if you must, but never upon my people or you will regret it!"
“What more can you do to me?"
“Carry on as you have and find out."
“I'd turn you into a Slevian slime worm, only that's too good for you!"
Connal grinned.
“You won't find it so funny when I wither you on the spot!” Liandra cried.
“Where are your counselor's ethics, now?"
Her hand arced towards his cheek. Lightning fast, Connal intercepted the blow. Liandra found her hand held by his in a surprisingly gentle hold.
“I will not tolerate your violence, witch! No woman raises her hand against me. This time, however, I forgive you. See?"
He raised her hand to his lips. Liandra stared as he tenderly kissed her knuckles, shivering as his warm lips grazed her skin. She gasped in fury, in indignation. Heat raced through her body, dissipating her anger, replacing it with a more powerful emotion. Desire. She must not feel this! Must not! Though she went to tear her hand away, his fingers curled even tighter around her.
“How dare you!"
“Always dare much, Liandra. You never know what you might reap.” He smiled smugly. “I see you are somewhat pacified by my caress."
She pursed her lips. Humiliated and furious with him—with herself—Liandra tore free from his grasp and fled to the bathing-room. Shakily, she locked the door.
Think—must think. Calm ... calm. It was no use. This time her training could not dispel her fury, her rage fuelled by her inexplicable reaction to his caress. She raged at herself for allowing that response and at him for daring to touch her in the first place. She barely controlled the urge to smash every object in the bathing-room.
How long she angrily paced the confines of her prison, she did not know. A knock on the door startled her out of her frenzy.
“Come out, Liandra. You have sulked long enough. Come out now, or I will break the door down."
Liandra eyed the door in alarm. Her anger retreated in the face of his threat. She knew he would break it down in an instant. Arguing with Connal MacArran was not the way. She would have to outwit him.
Besides, if Connal had to force his entry to the bathing-room, he'd be in a fine temper. It would make dealing with him even more difficult, perhaps dangerous. He might do something unimaginable to her. Slowly, tentatively, she opened the door.
“Come out. You and I need to talk,” Connal said.
“Talk about what? You've already determined what's to become of me. What can I possibly say to change your mind, barbarian?"
He smiled grimly. “I like it not that you call me barbarian. ’Tis you who are the savage. When have I ever raised my hand to you as you have tried to do to me?"
“I was provoked beyond endurance."
“As I have been, on many an occasion. Even so, you have never experienced any punishment such as a man may give an errant woman. Think on that a moment.” He folded his arms and frowned at her. “As a guest of MacArran you shall want for nothing. You will be happy, here, that I promise you."
“By the seven stars! Do you think this barbarous place could make me happy?” Liandra swallowed her anger. She was an experienced counselor; so the sooner she started acting like one the better. “Connal, why do you fear discovery of your world?"
“'Tis not something we discuss outside the clans. Perhaps one day I will be able to explain.” He paused. “You have saved my life, and that is a debt MacArran pays."
“Then make recompense by returning me home, I won't reveal..."
“If that were only true. Perhaps I can trust you. But others? Word of us would eventually spread. The curious would besiege us. No, this is the best way."
“Best, for whom? What can you possibly hope to gain by keeping me prisoner?"
“Caledonia's freedom."
“In exchange for mine? Back in the dream-state you would not trade my life for yours and Garris'. What's the difference now?"
“Obviously a great deal. The loss of your freedom, for the sake of an entire world? Yours is a small price to pay."
“Because it's me who's doing the paying—again!” Liandra ran a hand across her face. “You can't remain forever isolated. It will be only a matter of time before the aliens infiltrate this space. You must get help."
“From the League? I think not. We on Caledonia have ways and means of protecting ourselves. We will fight this menace on our own terms. We have existed without League help in the past. We shall do so in the future."
“The League has so much to offer. What do you truly fear?"
“Contamination. An end to our culture. We have witnessed it before."
“Where? You know so much about us, or so you think. How so? You've kept yourself in isolation, or is that a lie, too?"
He frowned. “'Tis sorry I am that you think me a liar. Although our world is shielded, we know what occurs outside our star system. We study the ways of our enemy. What we see, we like it not."
“The League is enemy to no one. Member planets revere the diversity of life. I've told you this before. We would never try to destroy your uniqueness. That would be a crime too great to contemplate!"
“What about the aliens we encountered in the dream?"
“They're different."
“And will you always be able to guarantee that another species would not try to do to us what was done to us in the dream?” Connal demanded.
“What do you mean?"
“The violation of our minds."
“The League has codes of conduct—"
“We govern ourselves by loyalty and honor. Our way is different to yo
urs, Liandra."
“Not so different as you would discover, if you truly took the time to understand. Believe me when I say you have nothing to fear from League discovery."
“I cannot risk losing all that we are, just on your word, Liandra. I am sorry. When you think on this, you shall see I have the right of it."
“The moons of Vesnar will turn purple before I think as you, Connal MacArran. I will not remain here. I—I'll escape."
He sighed deeply. “How will you leave? How can you find your way home without knowing from where it is you start?"
“I'll find a way."
“That is a hollow threat, childish in the extreme."
Liandra flung her hands to her hips. “You can't keep me prisoner here."
“How you live among us is your choice, Liandra. Prisoner or guest?"
“My father will look for me. He won't give up until he finds me.” Liandra paused. “At least let me send a message to my parents to say that I'm still alive. After what happened in my dream-search they will fear the worst."
“I cannot risk even that, Mistress. I am sorry."
“Sorry...!” Liandra paced the confines of the room. “You'll be sorry for what you do to me, barbarian."
“That sounds very much like a threat, Liandra. You know what I say to such."
“I will find a way to escape your tyranny. You'll pay for every insult. That's a promise."
She picked up a cushion and hurled it at him. Another and another sailed at his head. Ducking the projectiles, he retreated to the door.
“When your mood is more agreeable, witch, I will return and we can talk more sociably."
“Get out, and stay out! I'll never speak to you again—you lying, conniving barbarian."
Connal smiled grimly. “I can wait for as long as it takes for you to see my point of view."
“Your wait will last an eternity. I never want to see your ugly face again."
“Tsk! And I thought you liked me. You woke me with your caress when we dream-shared."
“That was before you revealed your true self. It was a moment of weakness, which you'll never see again. You'll live to regret what you've done to me."
“There is nothing I like more than a good challenge. I look forward to the contest.” Connal laughed. “Call me when your temper has improved. You behave like a shrew, your screaming hurts my ears."
The door closed behind him and Liandra raced to it. Locked in, again, she discovered. Blinking back the stinging tears of rage and desperation, she sagged against the door.
Calm down—think!
Somehow, she would escape the Castle. There must be a way. Could she appeal to some higher authority? Fianna had said something about a Council. As the League, perhaps Caledonia had a place where all leaders met for discussion and legislation. She would find out where they were and make them see reason and perhaps bring some judgment down upon Connal's arrogant autocratic head. Abduction, imprisonment—surely even such a barbarous place as Caledonia had laws against such? Connal MacArran would live to regret the day he came to her door. Of that she was certain!
Liandra's optimism lasted a matter of seconds. There were flaws in her plan. To put it into action, how long would it take? Days? Weeks? How many others would the aliens kidnap and destroy in the time it took her to make good her escape from the Castle?
Liandra shuddered. She knew the answer even before she allowed it a voice. She would have to use her bed for a dream-sending. Her father would have sensed the aliens already, but how much did he know of their intentions? Alleron Tavor might be the most powerful Dream-weaver, but even he might become entrapped in the dream-state because she knew he wouldn't give up searching for her. She would have to contact him to explain what had happened. And that was going to be made doubly difficult if she couldn't reveal the existence of Caledonia. She had other worlds to think about, other lives. Caledonia's secrecy might be sacrificed. What other choice did she have?
Wearily, Liandra ran a hand across her eyes. She didn't want to face that dreamscape again, but she had to. Somehow she would have to recover her crystals and send a message. Seven Stars, how she wished there was some other way. And she would have to be careful. If Connal knew of her plans he'd—well what he'd do to her, she didn't want to think about!
* * * *
Connal leaned back against the door of her apartment and drew in a deep breath. The exhaustion that he had held at bay was finally overtaking him. Willing his muscles to obey, he pushed himself down the corridor. Dougall intercepted him.
“I suppose you are going to add your protests to Fianna's and the witch's?"
“The women do have the right of it, lord. And you know how it is with a woman's scorn. They will not forgive you—not in a long while. The alien especially."
“Aye.” Connal smiled ruefully.
“Is Garris truly lost to us?"
“No, by Arran! When I have rested I intend to follow his trail again. ’Tis the least I can do."
Dougall grasped Connal's forearm. “No, never again, My Lord! The things I heard coming from the apartment, when you and the witch were a-dreaming. It near curdled my blood. You cannot do this! ’Tis madness. The Council..."
“Is to blame for our predicament. They overrode me last time and look what happened. Henceforth, I will not be seeking their say so in any of my decisions."
“My Lord..."
“Enough, I say! Look to our guest. Give her some time to recover her composure and then have one of the women keep her company. I have the right of it when I say my face will not be too welcome for awhile in that chamber."
Dougall grimaced. “The alien is somewhat spirited."
“She is certainly that!"
Connal strode down the corridor, his thoughts awhirl. Aye, the witch had spirit that would make a Caledonian proud. If only there was another way. He liked it not, keeping her against her will. What other choice had he? In time she would become reconciled. He would make sure of it. He had brought stubborn women to heel before. It might be worth every difficult moment ahead to see Liandra subdued. Compliant even? He smiled at that. He could not imagine her so.
Still, for the moment he had more significant tasks to perform, finding Garris the most important in a growing list of problems. How had everything gone so terribly wrong, in such a short time?
His original plan had been so simple. All so simple! But look what had happened. She had turned his world upside down, pitted one loyal kinswoman against him already—not to mention Jenna. Arran's Mercy—what was a man to do?
Besides, the thought intruded, after what they had shared on the crystal bed, would he have been truly content to let her leave, just like that? He had not loved Jenna since his return from off-world. He had tried, yet for the first time in his life his body did not reciprocate passion, no matter how skillfully Jenna had enticed him. He had wanted none of his Jennie. And why? The witch was to blame! He knew it. So did Jenna.
He could not deny it, he was curious about Liandra. Surely this was not the reason he was keeping her prisoner, to sample first-hand, in the real world, the delights they had dream-shared?
No! Impossible! It was Caledonia that he was thinking of, not himself. How could he even consider bedding an alien whore? If only... He cut off that thought instantly. No going back. For good, or ill, he had decided what was to be done.
But that tight coil in the pit of his gut, why did he feel that worse was yet to come?
CHAPTER NINE
The insistent scratching on her chamber door roused Liandra from her misery. Her only break from solitude was the dutiful ministrations of Katrine to tend her wounds, and the serving girls who brought her meals. Liandra forced herself to eat, knowing that if her plates were returned unsavored, Connal would hear of it. No doubt he'd force-feed her. She'd suffered enough indignities at his hands.
The scraping came again. Cautiously, she opened the door. Fergus’ massive frame knocked the door aside. The hound planted a cold, moist snout
against her hand, prodding her until she caressed his head. Satisfied, Fergus lay down in front of the fire, watching her with his huge amber eyes.
“Well, you've made yourself at home. Pity I can't do the same thing,” Liandra muttered.
Turning, she saw Dougall sitting in the corridor, though as her eyes met his, his gaze fell to the floor. Liandra strode up to him.
“Maer Dougall. I was wrong to be angry with you. I apologize."
Dougall glanced at her and to her amazement, the man's cheeks flamed red with embarrassment.
“You have the right of it, Mistress, to be so incensed. In your place I would have torn the chieftain limb from limb.” He chuckled.
Despite herself Liandra had to laugh, too. “I did come close to it."
He pulled out the chair on the opposite side of his table. “Will you sit and take wine? ’Tis the best MacArran vintage, Connal's recompense for my solitary duty outside your door."
“Are you going to be my guardian for...” Liandra bit back the word. She wasn't going to say forever. That would be admitting defeat, and she was far from vanquished. She wasn't going to stay very long on Caledonia, not if she had anything to do with it!
Dougall raised a bushy red brow. “Lord MacArran is a good man, Mistress, though I doubt at the moment you would think it. Still, of all the chieftains, he is a man worthy of the name, and his position."
“I disagree."
“Aye. In time you will see I have the right of it."
Intolerable smugness. Did every Caledonian man suffer from it? Liandra slowly sipped the wine. She had never tasted its like before. Its warmth spread through her body, relaxing the tension in a curious way.
“I haven't seen Maera Fianna for days. Not since the dream-search. Is she about? I'd like to speak to her."
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