The Captive

by Amanda Ashley

  “I asked you a question, Number Four.”

  “See for yourself.”

  Drade grimaced as he glanced at the dead man. “What happened?”

  Falkon shrugged. “He attacked a guard.”

  Drade grunted, then gestured toward the bridge. “Get going. We’ll dump him in the ocean.”

  Resisting the urge to refuse, Falkon slung the dead man’s body over his shoulder and headed for the gate. Drade punched in the code and the heavy iron gate swung open.

  It was a quarter of a mile to the ocean. He was sweating profusely by the time they reached the water. A natural dock formed by a long finger of land extended about twenty yards into the surf. Falkon carried the body to the end of the jetty and dumped it into the water. He stood there a moment, feeling the spray on his face, wondering what his chances were of overcoming Drade and making a break for the jungle.

  He cursed as Drade activated the manacles on his hands. The man was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid.

  Turning, Falkon walked back to the beach. “Why?” he asked. “Why did Hodore attack the mine? Why did they destroy Marcus?”

  “Let’s go, slave.”

  “Answer me, dammit.”

  Drade laughed softly. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

  “You owe me plenty.”

  Drade ran his finger over the controller. “Amazing, what this can do, don’t you think?”

  Falkon’s hands curled into fists. His gaze bored into the other man’s. “Go ahead, use it.” Heart pounding, he waited, wondering what foolishness had prompted him to say such a thing. Drade had always been a bully, always enjoyed inflicting pain. At the academy, he had delighted in tormenting the incoming cadets.

  He took a deep breath as Drade’s thumb hovered over the controller, looked up as the sound of hoof beats reached his ears. Ashlynne! Mounted on a snow white stallion, her hair flowing wild around her shoulders, she looked like an avenging angel.

  She reined her horse to a halt a short distance from where they stood. “What’s going on?”

  He bit back a grin at the sound of her lady-of-the-manor tone.

  She directed her question to Drade, but her gaze rested on Falkon.

  “Just disposing of a dead slave,” Drade replied easily. He smiled at her, his gaze moving over her in a long slow look that bordered on insolence.

  “What killed him?”

  “He attacked one of my men.”

  “I see.”

  Drade shrugged. “It happens sometimes. They all go a little mad after a while. Fortunately, there’s always a ready supply of rebels like this one to take their place.”

  “Number Four is not to be hurt,” Ashlynne said. “He belongs to me, not to you. Not to Niklaus. You would do well to remember that.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Your husband made that quite clear. Of course, if he attacks one of my men, he’ll have to suffer the consequences.”

  “He’s not to be hurt,” she said again. “If anything happens to him, I will hold you personally responsible.”

  It was an empty threat, and they both knew it. Niklaus was in charge. She had no power at all.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Drade replied. “I’m sure Number Four appreciates your concern, but we’ve got to be getting back now.”

  Ashlynne gazed at Falkon, drinking in the sight of him, longing to go to him, to wipe the bitterness from his eyes.

  “Are you well, Number Four?” she asked.

  He looked up at her, his expression closed, his jaw rigid.

  “Number Four?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are they treating you well?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he replied, his words edged with bitterness. “Food fit for a king. A feather bed. A hot bath and a massage every night.” He regretted his words as soon as he spoke them. Pain flickered in the depths of her eyes.

  Drade laughed. “Let’s go.”

  Falkon looked at Ashlynne and shook his head, silently asking her forgiveness.

  Drade poked Falkon with the riding crop he always carried. “Move it, slave. Being out in this hot sun is making me thirsty.” He touched his forefinger to the brim of his cap. “Pleasure seeing you again, Lady Hassrick.”

  Ashlynne nodded, her heart aching as she watched Falkon turn and walk back toward mine.

  * * * * *

  “I’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning,” Hassrick said. He sat back in his chair, a look of utter contentment on his face as the housekeeper filled his wine glass. “Thank you, Hana.”

  Hana smiled at him, then left the room, her hips swaying provocatively.

  “You’re leaving?” Ashlynne said.

  He nodded, his gaze following Hana.

  “How long will you be gone?” She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice.

  “No more than a week. I have business on Hodore.”

  “Hodore!” she exclaimed. “What kind of business could you possibly have there?”

  “Nothing you need concern yourself with. I’ll require your signature on a few documents before I go.”

  “What documents?”

  A lazy smile played over his lips. “I think it would be in your best interest to assign ownership of the mine to me.”

  She stared at him. “Why would I do that?”

  “Perhaps I phrased it wrong. It would be in Number Four’s best interest if you did as I asked.”

  The unspoken threat made her stomach clench. “And if I refuse?”

  “I’m afraid your slave might meet with an unfortunate accident.”

  “And what’s to keep him from having an ‘accident’ once I sign?”

  Niklaus regarded her through narrowed eyes. “I get the feeling you don’t trust me, my dear.”

  She looked at him, but said nothing.

  Niklaus blew out a sigh. “Very well. When I return, I’ll have some papers for you to sign.”

  “What kind of papers?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You will sign them.”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “I see we understand each other.”

  She nodded again, then excused herself and went to her room. Going to her computer, she typed in her password, then wrote a short letter of instruction, which she sent to her father’s older brother, Samuel. Much to her father’s chagrin, Samuel had entered the ministry and was a priest of the old religion on Cannus Twelve. Aside from Falkon, he was the only man she trusted.

  When Ashlynne woke the next morning, the maid, Kerolena, informed her that Niklaus had left for Hodore. Her first thought was that she was free. Sitting up, she raised her arms over her head and stretched. Free!

  She bounded out of bed, not wanting to waste a minute of the precious few days she would be alone.

  “What will you be wanting for breakfast?” Kerolena asked.

  “I don’t care. Anything!”

  With a nod, Kerolena left the room.

  Ashlynne took a long hot shower, dressed quickly in a pair of dun-colored riding pants and a lavender silk shirt. She slipped on a pair of thick socks, pulled on her boots, and hurried downstairs for breakfast. She hardly tasted what was placed before her and when she was finished, she left the house and went to the barn. A short time later, she was riding toward the mine.

  * * * * *

  He didn’t think, didn’t feel. Ignoring the dull, nagging pain in his back and shoulders, he dug in the hard dark earth. It was about eleven, as far as he could tell. He’d been at work for five hours and had another hour or so to go before he’d get a break. And then another six hours after that.

  He glanced at the men laboring beside him. The one on his left was from Daccar. From whispered conversations over the last week and half, Falkon had learned that there was increasing unrest on Daccar, that the people were starting to put their petty wars behind them, finally realizing that if they didn’t stand together, Romariz would destroy them. There were rumors that Hassrick had made some sort of alliance with Brezor, the ambassad
or of Cenia. Falkon had been unable to hide his skepticism when he heard the news. Cenia was a distant planet of strange yellow-skinned people, though it wasn’t the color of their skin that set them apart, but the fact that they followed a religion that had been outlawed in every other known galaxy, a religion that practiced human sacrifice.

  But that was not his problem, not now.

  “Number Four.”

  Stifling a groan, he rose to his feet and glanced over his shoulder.

  “You’re wanted outside.”

  Outside. The slaves were never summoned outside before dark.

  The manacles on his wrists snapped shut as he made his way along the narrow shaft that led up, up, to the mouth of the cavern.

  He emerged, squinting against the sunlight.

  “Here he is, Lady Hassrick.”

  Ashlynne? Here?

  “Thank you.”

  He blinked against the sunlight, wondering what she was doing there, in the middle of the day, alone.

  “I’m taking him with me.”

  “I have no clearance for that.”

  “I do.”

  The guard shook his head. “I can’t release him without written authorization from Lord Hassrick or Commander Drade.”

  “Of course you can’t.” She smiled as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper. “And here it is.”

  The guard took the paper and read it quickly. “Very well, my lady. When will you be bringing him back?”

  “In a few days. I have some work for him to do up at the house.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Here.” He handed her a controller. “You’ll be needing this.

  “Thank you.” She dropped the controller into her pocket. “Come along, Number Four.”

  Wordlessly, he fell into step behind her horse, admiring the way the sun danced in her hair, wondering what miracle she had wrought to get him out of the mine.

  As soon as they were out of sight of the compound, she reined her horse to a halt. Taking the controller from her pocket, she released his hands, then took her foot from the stirrup. “Well, come on,” she said, “unless you want to walk.”

  He swung up behind her and she urged the horse into a lope, riding down the beach until she came to a small sheltered cove.

  When she reined the horse to a halt, Falkon slid over the horse’s rump, then stood looking up at her.

  “Aren’t you going to help me down?”

  He looked at her, then shook his head. “I’m filthy.” He was beyond filthy, he thought, covered with the dirt and sweat of five hours in the mine.

  “I don’t care.”

  She held out her arms and he lifted her from the back of the horse, letting her body slide slowly down his own as he lowered her to the ground.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you,” she whispered.

  There weren’t words enough to say what he was feeling. Instead, he drew her close and kissed her, hard and quick, and then again, slow and gentle, his mouth moving lightly over hers, his tongue teasing her lips.

  “Falkon…” She moaned his name, her hands moving restlessly up and down his bare back, reveling in the feel of his sun-warmed skin, the way his muscles quivered at her touch.

  It had been too long, too long. Desperate for his touch, she pulled him down on the shimmering golden sand, her hands feverish as she tugged at his breeches.

  He removed his boots, then settled back on the sand, grinning roguishly. “Gonna have your way with me, are you?”

  “Just as soon as I can,” she retorted as she flung his breeches aside.

  He watched through heated eyes as she quickly shed her own clothes, and then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her, his clever hands moving over her, caressing, teasing, arousing her until she writhed beneath him, lost in the wonder of his touch. Her hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, delved into the silky soft hair at his nape. She was dying, she thought, being devoured by the heat of his mouth moving over her flesh, a hungry flame that left tiny fires of need burning in its wake.

  She was ready, more than ready, when he rose over her, his body merging with hers, filling her, completing her, as their hearts and spirits blended, soaring toward that one moment when two were truly one.

  Falkon brushed a kiss over her cheek. “How did you manage this?”

  They were lying in each other’s arms, sated. Content.

  “Niklaus has gone to Hodore.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sure. What difference does it make?”

  Hassrick had gone to Hodore. Perhaps the rumors he’d heard had some foundation of truth after all. And Drade was gone, too. Coincidence?

  “We have a whole week to be together.”

  “And how are you going to explain this to him when he gets back?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll worry about it when the time comes.”

  He lifted up on one elbow, his hand splayed across her belly. “Are you all right?”

  “Fine. Well, mostly fine. I still get a little nauseous sometime.”

  “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

  “You are.”

  He laughed derisively. “Yeah.”

  She lifted one hand, her fingers running over the thick lynaziam collar at his neck. “Is it terribly uncomfortable?” She ran her fingertips over the manacles on his wrists.

  “Uncomfortable?” He snorted softly. “You could call it that, I guess.”

  “I wish I could remove it.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He hated the collar, hated the way it felt almost as much as what it stood for.

  “Someday,” she murmured.

  “Yeah,” he said bleakly. “Someday.” He looked down at her, frankly admiring the soft curves of her body, the sweep of her lashes, the way her hair looked spread over the sand, silver over gold. The warm satin smoothness of her hip and thigh pressed intimately against his own. Her breasts were full, her belly slightly rounded with new life. A child. His child. His woman… He had a sudden, unwelcome image of Ashlynne in Hassrick’s bed, writhing in pleasure in Hassrick’s embrace.

  “What is it?” Ashlynne asked, alarmed by the sudden darkness in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I was just thinking of you. With him.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Oh.” She caressed his cheek. “We don’t sleep together.”

  He looked at her in disbelief. “Never?”

  “Never. He said he didn’t want another man’s leavings.”

  Falkon stared down at her. “Yet he still married you, knowing about the baby,” he mused. Why? That was the question. And the mine was the answer. Ashlynne owned the mine. If she had died in the attack, the mine and its profits would have been taken over by the Confederation and Hassrick would have lost his chance to be in control.

  “Falkon?”

  “Are you sure he didn’t say why he was going to Hodore?”

  “He just said business. Oh, he did say he would have some papers for me to sign when he got back.”

  “What else did he say?”

  “He wanted me to sign the mine over to him.”

  “Did you?”

  “No.”

  He drew her close, in sudden fear for her life. If Hassrick could convince Ashlynne to give him the mine, he would have no further need of his wife. Especially a wife carrying another man’s child.

  “Don’t sign anything that gives him control of the mine, Ashlynne,” he said urgently. “Promise me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Do you know if Drade went with him?”

  “He didn’t say. Why?”

  “I think the two of them must be plotting something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. But Drade craves power. He always has. That’s why he allied himself with the Romarians. Because they’re the most powerful influence in t
he galaxy. I think he was behind the attack on the mine.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Why would the Romarians want to attack the mine?”

  “I don’t think the Romarians had anything to do with it. I think it was a plan hatched by Drade and Hassrick.”

  “But why?”

  He shook his head. He had given it a lot of thought in the last few weeks. “You were supposed to be visiting Hassrick the week the mine was attacked. I think someone screwed up and attacked early.”

  Ashlynne stared up at Falkon, remembering how surprised Hassrick had been to hear from her. No wonder. He had been certain she was dead, killed in the explosion that had destroyed the jinan. But that would mean… She shook her head. “No, it can’t be true.” Yet even as she said the words, she knew, deep inside, that it was.

  “Be careful, Ashlynne.”

  “I don’t want to think about that now.” She gazed up at him, her heart swelling with such love she thought it might burst within her breast. No matter that she was married to Niklaus, Falkon was the husband of her heart, the other half of her soul. She saw him, and her spirit soared. The sound of his voice thrilled her. The touch of his hand made her quiver with longing. He was in her every thought, as much a part of her as her hands and feet, as the child growing within her. How had she ever lived without him?

  She held him close, giving thanks to whatever Fate it was that had brought him to Tierde, and was immediately overcome with a wave of guilt and remorse. How could she be so selfish? He had lost his wife and child, spent months in captivity. Was still a prisoner. She would have spared him all that, if she could, and yet…if his life had been different, they never would have met.

  She clung to him, afraid, so afraid, of losing him.

  “Ashlynne, what is it?”

  She buried her face in his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.

  “Ashlynne?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak past the lump in her throat, not wanting him to see the tears burning her eyes.

  “What is it, princess?”

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much, I’m…I’m afraid.” She choked back a sob. Everything she had ever loved had been taken from her, her parents, her best friend, her home. She couldn’t’ bear to lose him, too.

  Falkon slid one hand under her chin and tilted her head up so he could see her face. The love shining through her tears reached deep into his heart. “Ashlynne. Sweetheart.”