Hers to Captivate

by Patricia A. Knight

  Angelica worried at that thought for many minutes while her Khlossian escort, Tok, and Lord Ramsey caught up on all that had occurred since their days on Vxloncia and Talleo IV.

  “What did I miss?”

  Angelica whirled with a glad cry. “Steffania!” A tall, fit redhead laughed and enveloped her in a huge hug that lasted for long seconds. With smiles on their faces, Lord Ramsey and Tok watched. Angelica pulled away and beamed up at her friend and former patient. “I have missed you. You look wonderful. I don’t need to ask if you’ve been well.”

  “I’m as well as can be expected when married to this rogue.” Steffania’s eyes sparkled as she stood on her toes to give her husband a kiss. “Hello, my lord. Sorry I’m late.” Ramsey rolled his eyes and looked put-upon, but Angelica knew he was anything but. He adored his “vixen.”

  “Dr. Angel met her bodyguard,” Tok rumbled. “He failed to favorably impress.”

  Steffania cut her kiss short at Tok’s comment. “Ramsey, please, tell me Tristan cut his hair and shaved. He didn’t show up still looking like an unwashed, unsheared balantus?”

  Angelica huffed softly. “I mistook him for a dockworker. Appearance aside, he propositioned me within three seconds of being introduced. I hope my patients receive more respect. They don’t need another male who treats them as sexual objects.”

  Steffania winced and eyed Ramsey. “Will you speak—”

  Ram grunted, cutting her short. “No. As I keep reminding people, I’m not his nanny. Tris overheard Angelica suggesting he didn’t look dependable.” Ramsey shrugged.

  “Oh. You met that Tristan.” Steffania’s features softened and she turned to Angelica. “Tris probably deserved your comments, but you hit a nerve.” Steffania grimaced. “Tris is extremely competent and can charm the pelt off an ice-bear when he wants something… but his older brother refuses to see it. Hel treats the man as if he were still twelve. Ramsey knows Tris far better than I do. Tristan served under Ram in the Verdantian cavalry and, ah, other places.”

  Angelica looked at her hands. “Perhaps I owe him an apology.” She shot a questioning glance at Lord Ramsey.

  Again, the man shrugged. “Your call. I would not have recommended him if he weren’t good, and I have a personal interest in keeping you in one piece.” One corner of Lord Ramsey’s mouth curled when she cocked her head in question. “Tok and my vixen would ensure I died a painful death should anything happen to you.”

  The low whine of an approaching dock runabout interrupted their small company’s laughter. All eyes turned and watched as a battered tow vehicle shepherded a small train of hover pallets loaded with padded white containers all marked “Medical Instruments—Fragile—Handle With Care” to a stop beside them. Her disreputable bodyguard hopped out from behind the control console of the runabout and briskly handed Angelica a gray tap-screen.

  “I’ve taken care of all customs clearances. I had to pull a couple of strings, but I arranged for you to keep the air-skips and runabout until you can unload the equipment at the neuro-center. The clinic isn’t far from port, but the air ride will be better for the equipment than the jolting of a wheeled freight vehicle. Scan the tablet, please, to make sure I have everything. Sign at the bottom if you would. I counted fourteen cartons. Good morning, ma’am.” Tristan nodded at Steffania, who stood regarding Angelica with arms crossed and an expression of knowing amusement on her face.

  Blinking at Tristan’s rapid, professional clip of words, Angelica ran her gaze down the list on the gray tablet and then examined the bulk goods platforms floating two feet off the ground in front of her. Each hover-skip bore the bold, red words “Property of VNV Revertar—Do Not Remove Under Penalty of Law” stenciled into its sides. Impressive. Tristan DeHelios had convinced the handsome Captain DeLan to allow valuable hovercraft to leave his ship and then wrapped each precious freight container in enough insulation to protect it from a direct hit by a fission bomb. She signed the bottom of the tablet. Guilt assailed her. She must apologize. She turned to face Tristan and handed him the tap-screen.

  “It looks in order. Umm… I would like… I want to…” she paused, grasping for words.

  “It’s all right, sweet cheeks. Sorry to disappoint, but you’re off the hook for tonight. I’ve made other plans.” The infuriating man grinned down at her, winked and was off again, leaping into the driver’s seat of the runabout and powering up the engines. He shouted over the whine, “I’ll meet you at the clinic. Lord Ramsey knows the way. Stay with him and the Khlossian. They’ll keep you safe until I get there.”

  Sweet cheeks? Off the hook? He made other plans? Her hands fisted. She straightened and swallowed her words of apology.

  “Come, Dr. Angel, Ramsey and his woman will escort you to the new medical center and your apartments. Your transportation is waiting.” As it frequently did, Tok’s comforting rumble grounded her when her emotions threatened to get the upper hand, and his observant gaze took in more than she allowed herself to voice. Their close proximity during the several weeks it had taken the VNV Revertar to bring them to Verdantia cemented a firm friendship with the GAPS agent that had begun years past when he and Lord Ramsey had rescued her from sexual slavery. Tok walked with her a few steps to where an elegant hydrogen-fueled vehicle purred at idle and helped her into the back seat.

  “You don’t join us, Tok?” Angelica said. She could feel his chuckle in her chest.

  “No, little female. Your vehicle does not accommodate a being of my size.” Tok’s blunt, common features arranged themselves in a pleasant expression. “I will find other means.” He nodded at Ramsey and Steffania, who occupied the other seating in the back of the vehicle, and closed the door with a solid thunk.

  The trip to her new medical compound took mere minutes and it wasn’t long before Ramsey was handing her out of the sleek transport. Her gaze traveled the clear, towering dome that spanned several acres, and she was able to view with her own eyes the results of over a year of planning and labor. The vital core of the neurological and psychological treatment areas awaited the contents of the cargo crates that man was transporting to the site, but she could still tour the patient residences, her apartments and the common areas of the medical compound.

  With Ramsey flanking her on one side and Steffania on the other, Angelica walked through the main entrance doors, past what would be the reception desk and into the central atrium. She stopped and turned in a slow circle, a smile beginning and then growing into a delighted grin.

  “I think it came out rather well,” Steffania commented. “You don’t know you are in the middle of a busy spaceport.”

  The vision before her confirmed what Angelica had only suspected—that while the rest of Verdantia might be stuck in a technological vacuum, the spaceport of Arkodaenia had all the advanced conveniences the wealthy pockets of the Second Tetriarch could purchase. “It is better than I had dared to hope.” Angelica sighed with contentment. “I feel as if I were in a private woodland glen. This environment can only benefit emotional recovery.”

  Vast, open skylights pulled outside air through enormous filters disguised as natural rock formations. The interchange of air created a light intermittent breeze that wafted through a forest of native trees and shrubs and across an expansive swath of emerald grass. The air was redolent with the smells of vibrant vegetative life. Cutting through the center of the broad green space, a stream burbled over large boulders before it joined a small pool surrounded by flattened rock perfect for sitting. Arbors and gazebos filled with upholstered sofas and floor cushions in bright colors dotted the interior space. Smooth pebble paths bordered by flowerbeds that contained plants of all colors and sizes connected them. The green niches would be perfect places for comfortable private reflection or quiet socializing.

  “Through here are the patient residences.” Lord Ramsey motioned for her to follow and led her down a broad walkway that cut through the center of the atrium and then skirted the perimeter with multiple paths branching off.
“Each walk leads to a residential quad,” Ramsey explained. “This particular area has been set off for your apartments and private office.” He gave her a look of inquiry. “Ready to see where you will be living in the years to come?”

  She nodded eagerly. “Very ready.”

  They followed the gravel path to an isolated area partially concealed by the lush foliage. The winding footpath ended at a two-story, yellow cottage with white trim. An expansive porch wrapped the second story. “Dr. Angelica Giverny, Senior Medical Chief—Cerebral Neurological& PsychologicalReintegration” was written in universal script on a plaque by the door.

  Lord Ramsey paused on the threshold. “The upper floor is yours. Your liaison officer and bodyguard has the first floor.”

  Angelica sighed. “I suppose every Garden of Eden must have a snake.”

  Steffania laughed aloud while Lord Ramsey stifled a smile. “Give him a chance. You two got off to a poor start.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Ummhmm.”

  Lord Ramsey shook his head. “Surrounding this area are extensive security features not yet activated. I thought to let you move in before programming your DNA and retinal patterns into the system.” He cleared his throat and Angelica thought Lord Ramsey sounded uncomfortable. “Tristan will handle entering your data and configuring your home systems. An artificial intelligence monitors and regulates all your residential lights, heating and so forth, and will be customized to your preferences. Tris will set that up for you. He is quite conversant with advanced tech. Steffania, Tris and I, and all of the Daggers, are in the databank. When activated, no unauthorized personnel should be able to access your private quarters.”

  “How do I clear my guests? I suppose sooner or later I will have some.”

  “We have built in an override with different levels of clearance. For the moment, just know that announcing a level four clearance triggers an immediate alarm,” Steffania said. “If someone should force you to use an override code, give the level four command and help will come immediately. Within your residence, there are a number of panic buttons disguised as ordinary items. Activate any of those and—”

  “Help will come immediately.” Angelica laughed. “Thank you. I already feel safe. What about vid-corders inside?”

  Lord Ramsey shifted as if ill at ease, and coughed into his closed hand. “None. There will never be a recording of what happens inside your apartments.”

  Steffania leveled a hostile stare at her husband. “It is too easy for recordings to go astray and be used for purposes other than security.” Steffania crossed her arms, and continued to glare a hole through her husband. Lord Ramsey refused to meet his wife’s eyes.

  “That’s enough, Steffania.” Ramsey growled. “I didn’t know. Should I send the money back?”

  With a final roll of her eyes and a muttered “No,” the redhead turned. Her smile appeared forced. “So… there will be no vid-corders.”

  Well… what was all that about? She’d have to get Steffania aside some day and ask. “It sounds like you have done all you can to keep me safe and give me some privacy, too.”

  Steffania held Angelica’s gaze. “Thank Tristan. He researched security measures for months before deciding on the least intrusive way to protect you.”

  Angelica dropped her gaze. The person of my bodyguard will be the most intrusive security measure.

  “Shall we go inside?” Lord Ramsey held the door open and gestured to the women.

  Angelica stepped into what appeared to be a windowless entry foyer, followed by Steffania and Ramsey.

  “Now this is where the magic begins,” Steffania said. “Push the wall button behind you. The one that looks like a doorbell.”

  When she did so, her eyes flew to Lord Ramsey and then Steffania. “We are moving.” The taupe-colored walls appeared to slide into the floor. “This is a lift! How clever. No stairs.”

  The sensation of movement ceased and Angelica stood looking through a set of elegant glass doors. After weeks of looking at nothing but the upscale but functional interior of the VNV Revertar, she felt she’d entered an enchanted land. Angelica grasped a curved golden handle, pulled, and walked into an artfully arranged living space. A long murmur of appreciation escaped her lips as her gaze roamed her new, hopefully permanent, home.

  One large room of dark organic floors and cream walls rose to a high cathedral ceiling. Arranged in a conversation group, two ivory, slip-covered sofas with occasional chairs of faded turquoise and clean-lined low tables faced a media interface wall made to appear as if raised paneling. Opposite the seating area was a dining table with six side chairs in the same faded turquoise. Beyond that, Angelica could see a gleaming kitchen with stone countertops and the muted indigo lights of what she identified as a food replicator. More soft blue lights shone from other, only the gods-knew-what, conveniences.

  What pulled her gaze across the large space and brought a further leap of pleasure to her heart was a retractable glass wall that opened to a deep covered balcony. Lounge chairs faced outward, overlooking a verdant expanse of woods and sun-dappled meadow. With a small sound of joy, Angelica stepped quickly to a section of the glass wall and slid it open. Immediately, fresh cool air smelling of spice-wood forest lifted her hair off her neck. With a wrinkle of distaste, she also smelled the stale, antiseptic tang of the re-circulated air on the VNV Revertar. The odor permeated her hair, her skin, her clothing—everything. She turned to Steffania and Ramsey. “After more than three weeks on a crowded starship in a stateroom with a tiny shower and rationed water, I would give a considerable sum for a long soak in a hot bath.”

  Steffania made a sound of agreement. “I remember the feeling. How about some time to yourself to relax and explore your new home? Tris should be bringing your personal effects shortly. He can also take a DNA sample and retinal scan and get the AI set up for you. Meanwhile, the house controls are set to manual.”

  “Here. My number, Steffania’s and Tristan’s are programmed in.” Lord Ramsey placed an oval communicator in her hand. “This is the panic button.” He indicated the red circular depression on the oval. “Press this and you will have all the Blue Daggers, Steffania, me and Tristan here within minutes.”

  Angelica peeked up at Lord Ramsey through her eyelashes. “I have always felt safe with you and Tok, but thank you for this.”

  Ramsey grunted and with a hand in the middle of Steffania’s back guided her toward the doors to the lift. “We will see you in the morning, Dr. Giverny.” He paused, and the slight smile and nod that he gave her warmed more than her heart. “We are glad you’re here.”

  Angelica nodded. She yearned to ask him to stay, but massive guilt for entertaining such feelings about Steffania’s husband silenced her. As the door closed behind them and the shush of the lift filtered through, Angelica shook her head. A humorless laugh escaped her lips. She was horny and lonely and her wishes counted as nothing. Dominus Ramsey had never looked at her with anything but avuncular interest, and she wasn’t so lacking in self-regard that she would pursue someone who didn’t want her. Regardless, she would never violate the friendship she cherished with Steffania.

  As she luxuriated in the steaming water of a deep tub some time later, Angelica examined her feelings about Dominus Ramsey with as much objectivity as she could summon. Did she want him, specifically? Well… what warm-blooded woman wouldn’t? But, no, under the circumstances, not him. Someone like Lord DeKieran, most definitely. The scruffy, but handsome features of her bodyguard came to mind. Him? Gods, preserve me. She snorted and submerged to wet her head. As she worked shampoo through her lengths of brunette hair, the face of another appeared in her mind—a charming, sensual male with green eyes and an air of quiet command—a man she had come to know and admire on the long flight from her world to Verdantia. I wonder how long Captain DeLan is in port?

  ***

  The man winced at the blast of static and jerked the comm device away from his ear. This jury-rigged trans-galactic feed was for
crap. Finally, someone at the other end answered.

  “Zebo, here.”

  “Hey, Zebo, it’s Stults. I finally made it to Verdantia, the puking backwater of the universe. As ordered, I’m checking in. I need to talk to the boss man.”

  “He’s busy, Stults. He’s with Caputo of the Pinwheel Galaxy, and it ain’t worth my balls to interrupt.”

  “He’s with the head of the Pinwheel territory? That Caputo?”

  “Yeah, they’ve been going at it all morning. From the shouting and swearing coming through the doors… well, let’s just say I’m glad I’m not Caputo. Since the GAPSsicced their top agents on the boss’s organization, his disposition is… ah… testy.”

  “Yeah? Tell me something I don’t know. They’ve made my life miserable, too. My stomping grounds are several steps up from this piece of galactic nowhere. But if the Galactic High Court sentenced that pissant, Vital Lontz, to life pounding rocks on an asteroid, can you imagine what they’ll do to the boss? Or me! That mewling, ass-sucking Vxloncian prick, Veacon Narr, should’ve kept a lower profile. He had a sweet deal, all the mind-wiped pussy he could want. How do you screw that up?”

  “Couldn’t say, Stults. Terminal stupidity? Heard he didn’t end so well. They had to identify his remains with DNA.”

  Stults laughed until another spat of static all but burst his eardrums. “Zebo, this inter-galactic comm-splice I jury-rigged is dicey. Don’t know how long it will hold. Your decision, but I’ve got an update onthe woman, the one that testified against Lontz and can ID the boss and me. You know how rabid he is about her.”