Too Close to the Sun (The Sun 1)

by Popp, Robin T.

  As she dressed, she wondered what Nicoli thought she was supposed to do all day. Sit around and wait for him to return from his great adventure? Or maybe he thought she’d seek out the other women and help them prepare food, mend clothes or something equally boring.

  No thank you.

  She left her room and made her way through the halls of the palace. When Angel reached her mother’s room, Yanur was already there. The two were deeply immersed in conversation and barely acknowledged her arrival. Feeling like an intruder, she turned to leave and caught sight of an object leaning against the far corner.

  “Is that Father’s warring blade?” She walked over to the weapon and picked it up. It was lighter than she remembered, but then, she was no longer a child.

  “Yes,” her mother answered. “I could never bear to give it away.”

  Gripping the handle with both hands, Angel raised the weapon and assumed the ready stance her father had taught her. The blade’s dull gleam reflected years of nonuse and the once razor-sharp center blade felt blunt when she ran a finger along the sword’s length in a feather-light touch. Memories of afternoons practicing with her father flooded her mind.

  “I think he would want you to have it,” her mother said, causing Angel to look toward her.

  “Really?”

  Her mother smiled and nodded. “Be careful.”

  “Thank you.” She looked back at the blade as an idea formed. “If you two are okay, I think I’ll go.” The older couple didn’t seem to notice when she slipped from the room.

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, she sat in the courtyard, enjoying the sun’s warmth on her back, rubbing the blades of her father's weapon with a polishing cloth. She was lost in memories of her times with him when a shadow fell across her.

  “You should be careful. One wrong move and you might accidentally cut off one of those very lovely fingers.”

  Her hands stilled as she cocked her head to look up at Victor. “I know what I’m doing.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, it is. Though I appreciate your concern,” she said in a voice that let him know she didn’t appreciate anything. “Don’t let me keep you from going.”

  The smile never left his face. “Not a problem.” He walked over to a nearby bench and sat down.

  He looked prepared to sit all day and Angel worked to keep the irritation from showing on her face. “What happened? You draw the short straw?”

  His confused expression told her that he’d never heard the expression. “It’s an old Earth game of chance where everyone draws a single piece of straw from a bale of hay. The one with the shortest straw loses.” She nodded to him. “Someone had to make sure I didn’t run away again and you drew the short straw.”

  The light of understanding clicked on, but the smile he gave her was far from embarrassed. It was almost suggestive. “I cheated.”

  That didn’t make sense to her. “Why?”

  “I couldn’t leave to chance the opportunity to spend all day in the pleasure of your company. So I arranged for Rianol and Pualson to be busy.”

  “After last night, I wouldn’t think you’d want to be anywhere near me.”

  He smiled. “I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, a man always appreciates the chance to spend time with an attractive woman, even when he has no hope of winning her for himself.”

  Angel laughed and felt the weight of her problems with her grandfather and Nicoli lift slightly from her shoulders. The man could be charming. He could also be a Harvester, she reminded herself. After all, who better to influence the decisions of the High Counsel than his Counsel-elect? Former Counsel-elect, she amended. If he was a Harvester, losing the position might make him very dangerous. Maybe she should do a little investigative work herself.

  “I don’t suppose you know how to use one of these?” She asked, mock innocence lacing her words.

  He pretended offense. “My dear An’jel, I’ll have you know that I am quite accomplished in the use of the warring blade.”

  “Care to go a few bouts on the practice field?"

  “Me? Practice against a woman?”

  “Try not to think of me as a woman.”

  “Impossible.” He winked at her as he rose from the bench. “But now that you mention it, there are a couple of moves I’d like to show you.”

  * * * * *

  Nicoli steered his small borrowed craft to the landing site on the far side of the High Counsel’s palace. He had mixed feelings about the day’s outing. He and Gil’rhen had visited the four nearest villages and not found a single trace of repossessed Harvesters.

  It wasn’t that he expected there to be a sign posted at the colony entrance that read “Harvesters Welcomed,” but he thought he would have found something. There were too many generations of ingrained cultural norms to overcome for the Harvesters to blend easily into an existing community, but neither he nor Gil’rhen had noticed anything unusual. Either the Harvesters weren’t there or they were doing one hell of a job blending in.

  Neither thought comforted Nicoli.

  After securing the ship and seeing Gil’rhen safely to his office, Nicoli made his excuses and went in search of Angel. He frowned, knowing how mad she must have been to discover he’d left without her. He'd already placed her life in danger too many times on this mission. He wasn’t about to again.

  “Angel?” He called, walking into their room. It was empty. He crossed to the bathroom, the thought of catching her coming out of the shower too good to pass up. “Angel, are you in here?” No response.

  He was growing worried. Had he made a mistake, thinking her safe inside the palace? He walked across the room, imagining the worst when a movement outside the window caught his eye. Turning to take a better look, he felt his mood sour and his blood pressure rise.

  Angel was in the back of the courtyard with Victor and though they both had warring blades drawn, it was obvious they weren’t fighting. Even as he watched, Victor lowered his weapon to the ground and moved to stand behind Angel. He wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands cover hers on the hilt of the weapon. Then, moving as one, they lifted the blade to sweep the air in an arc.

  The scene bore an air of intimacy that had Nicoli gritting his teeth. It seemed much too long a time before Angel, face smiling, stepped out of the other man’s embrace. Her laughter floated to him across the distance, the sound of it surprising.

  He’d never made her laugh. In fact, he wasn't sure he'd ever heard her laugh.

  It was a depressing thought that quickly turned to an anger aimed equally at Victor, for making open advances toward his wife, and Angel, for seeming so receptive to those advances.

  He left the room, his long strides taking him quickly to the courtyard as his thoughts turned to how he would handle the situation before him.

  “Colonel Romanof.”

  He didn’t hear the servant until she stepped into his path, blocking his way. “Sorrah, isn’t it?” He struggled to keep the irritation from his voice.

  “Yes. I didn’t think you’d noticed me.”

  He stared at her, amazed. The serving girl had practically thrown herself at him this morning at breakfast and now she blocked his path. How could he not have noticed? Somehow taking his silence as encouragement, she smiled and took a step closer.

  “Was there something you wanted?” He stared past her to the outside courtyard entrance for some sign of Angel and Victor beyond. The maid’s hand on his arm brought his attention back to her. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I will take care of you.” From her tone he knew she wasn’t offering to fix his meals. Stepping closer, she laid the palms of her hands against his chest.

  Irritation warred with manners. He could hardly push the woman aside. While he debated how to rid himself of her, she took advantage of his silence, taking that last step that brought their bodies into contact.

  “How can she satisfy you when you don’t even slee
p together?” She smiled at his confused look. “I cleaned your room this morning and saw the pallet on the floor.”

  “We had a fight. That’s all.” He shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant, but the movement rubbed her against him and he froze.

  Misunderstanding his reaction, she grew bolder. Her arms stole about his neck as she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “I know what a man needs.”

  Before he could stop her, Sorrah’s lips pressed against his. He placed his hands at her waist and tried to gently push her away, but she refused to budge.

  “What is going on here?” Victor’s voice drifted across the courtyard to them.

  Nicoli and Sorrah sprang apart guiltily and turned to face two equally angry faces.

  The irony of the situation was not lost on Nicoli.

  Angel was so mad, she could hardly see straight. Beside her, Victor had lost all semblance of the charming man he’d been all afternoon. The look he sent Nicoli was lethal and Angel wondered that Nicoli didn’t die right there on the spot.

  “Sorrah,” he growled. “You will come with me now.”

  The maid’s eyes grew large as she watched him stride toward her, but she did not cower or pull away when he reached her side and took her arm.

  “I’m sure the Colonel and his wife would like some privacy.” Victor put extra emphasis on the word “wife” while pinning Nicoli with an accusing glare. After a moment’s silence, he turned to face Angel. “If you will excuse us?”

  He practically dragged the maid back into the palace, but Angel didn’t feel sorry for her in the least. Left alone, Nicoli walked the short distance separating them.

  “I can explain.”

  “Can you?” She didn’t have to fake the frost in her tone. “All that talk about acting like a legitimately married couple.” She shook her head. “I guess fidelity doesn’t mean much to Althusians.”

  The attack hit a nerve. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to him, thrusting his face close to hers. “And you've been the model wife, haven't you? Don't bother lying. I saw you out here with him.” He sneered.

  She stared at him, too stunned to speak for a moment. “YOU’RE accusing ME?” She tried to jerk her arm away, but his grip was too tight.

  “His arms were all over you. Don’t try to deny it.”

  “Oh well, you caught me,” she said sarcastically, her voice growing louder. “But somehow I don’t think practicing with the warring blade is the same thing as kissing!” She shouted.

  With a powerful yank, she freed her arm from his grasp and stormed out of the courtyard, not stopping until she reached the practice field. Confused by hurt and anger, she stood beside the rack of practice blades, absently clenching and unclenching her fists. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement.

  “What do you want?”

  “We need to talk,” Nicoli said, having followed her.

  Angel eyed the blades in the rack, then grabbed one by the hilt, blades down, and tossed it to him.

  “If you want to talk to me, you’ll need this.”

  She walked to an open area, satisfied to see that he followed her. Despite the ache in her arms from the earlier practice with Victor, she raised her weapon and held it ready. She doubted Nicoli had ever used a warring blade before which gave her a slight advantage.

  “Heads up.”

  She lunged at him, catching him off guard, but he recovered quickly, blocking the downward descent of her blades. He parried with a gentler stroke of his own. She blocked his move then attacked again, swinging her weapon, letting anger fuel her strength. The impact caused Nicoli to fall back a step.

  “Sorry,” Angel spoke with mock sweetness. “I didn’t realize you weren’t up to a real workout. I’ll try to pull my strikes a bit, go easy on you.”

  Nicoli drew himself up to his full height and looked down at her with a thunderous expression. When she brought her blades down for the next strike, he blocked it with such force, the impact of the blades clashing reverberated up her arm and left her skull ringing. Or maybe that was her temper ringing in her ear. Instinctively, she took a step back.

  “Just for the record,” Nicoli snarled, stepping forward. “Sorrah kissed me. I didn’t kiss her.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” She lost more ground when Nicoli lunged and she took a step back to ease the impact of her block. Furious with herself, she swung the blades over her head and brought them crashing down. The effort cost her dearly.

  “Fine. Then let’s talk about what you were doing out here all alone with Victor.” Nicoli blocked yet another blow that fell too hard for a practice session.

  “For your information, I was investigating him.” She was breathing hard and small muscle tremors were making it difficult to hold the weapon steady, but she refused to stop.

  “I don’t want you spending time with him.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  He brought his weapon up to meet hers and their blades locked together. Nicoli pressed his advantage, towering over her. “Yes, I can. I’m your husband.”

  Angel tried to break her weapon free, but Nicoli’s strength and her own fatigue made it impossible.

  “Yield.” Nicoli’s quiet tone hinted at more than just the blades.

  “Never.”

  Lowering his arm, he forced the tip of her long blade to the ground and trapped it there. “Yield to me.”

  His eyes held hers hostage and the raw masculine power of his gaze washed over her, enveloping her, stealing her strength and sense of purpose until his demand became an echo of her own desire. Her resolve weakened and her fingers began to lose their grip on the blade. The slight upward tug of Nicoli’s lips, the look of smug satisfaction on his face, broke the spell.

  Feeling for the small button in the grip of her weapon, she pressed it.

  “You first.” The hilt separated from the blade and with a last burst of energy, she quickly raised her hand and placed the dagger’s sharp edge against his throat.

  Their gazes locked again. She struggled to keep her hand from trembling, afraid she really might draw blood. There was no fear in Nicoli’s gaze.

  Suddenly her feet were kicked out from under her.

  Unable to get her arms back in time to cushion her fall, she hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. In the nanosecond it took to catch her breath, Nicoli pinned her to the ground with his body. She brought her hands up to beat at him, but he caught them easily and held them trapped beneath one of his, using the other for support.

  Brown eyes glared into hers. The intensity in Nicoli’s scowl, the anger she felt in the tenseness of his body, caused Angel to shudder. Yet she lifted her chin. Seeing it, Nicoli shook his head, a nasty grin spread across his face. “Lesson number one, wife. Don’t pull it out unless you intend to use it.”

  Angel struggled to take in air, desperately wishing his body didn’t feel so good. “Get off me.”

  “Not before you yield to me.”

  “Never.” She struggled against him, but the effort did nothing more than rub their bodies together. The earthy scent of crushed grass and dirt rose to mingle with the aroma of virile male, filling her senses. Her mind begged her to resist, but her body refused. Beneath his weight, her pulse quickened in anticipation.

  As if reading her reaction, he gave her that knowing smile. “Yield,” he whispered, his breath fanning her face.

  Again, she twisted beneath him, a futile attempt. When a groan escaped his lips, she froze, noticing for the first time his arousal pressing against her stomach. For what seemed an eternity, their eyes locked on one another, searching, assessing. Anticipating.

  Then his mouth captured hers and there was nothing tender in the painful pressing of his lips against hers. She tried to turn away, but he used the weight of his body to keep her pinned to the ground while he held her head still between his hands. Though she should have been frightened, she wasn’t. Desire shot through her and when Nicoli’s tongue demanded entry
into her mouth, she opened to him.

  His tongue swept inside her mouth, leaving no part untouched and she reveled in the sensations. She had never been kissed like this and it left her feeling dizzy.

  A distant part of her mind whispered caution, almost too faint to be heard. Danger lay this way - danger to her heart. To her soul. But something else waited as well, just out of reach. Something she’d experienced once before with this man; something she’d never experience again once they were divorced. She would take all she could now and live off the memories later.

  Passion overriding caution, Angel’s hands gripped Nicoli’s powerful shoulders as she matched his urgency with a hunger she herself did not recognize. Nicoli too seemed surprised, but then she felt the subtle change in his actions as his need to dominate evolved into something else.

  His mouth abandoned her lips to trail tiny kisses down the column of her neck, pausing every now and then to suck gently at the tender skin. The hand at her side moved to her breast, cupping it, gently squeezing. When she arched into him, it seemed to push Nicoli over the edge and he ripped open her shirt, exposing her to the air.

  She should have felt vulnerable, but she didn’t. His look was one of near reverence, intense hunger, and it made her feel beautiful. Nicoli lowered his head to tease the nipple with his tongue before catching it lightly between his teeth and gently tugging. The sensation was exquisite, and low in her abdomen, anticipation grew. She moved her hips to relieve the tension and felt Nicoli’s quick intake of breath as she rubbed against his swollen manhood.

  Nicoli’s hand moved to her waist, working to undo the fastening of her pants. Within moments he’d worked them down her legs and they lay, forgotten, off to the side. The roughened palm of his hand ran along the outside of her leg, up toward her hip. He rolled his weight to one side so he could gain better access to the inside of her thighs. With a light pressure, he opened her legs to his exploration.