Red colored his cheeks. "What you did was bloody dangerous, wench!"
"Don’t get in such a flap. I knew what I was doing." Her eyes switched to the other glowering trader. "Your turn to whine, Jase. What’s your problem?"
"The same as Garret’s. Did you have to make me crawl on my knees? No Daamen crawls to anyone!"
"You did to me." Unbuckling the sword belt, she tossed it onto the marble-topped table. "And you both did very well."
Garret’s eyes narrowed. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"
"Am I?" The laser belt landed beside the sword.
"Aye, I think you are. I swear, if we weren’t stuck in this bloody place, I’d teach you--"
Suddenly impatient, she snapped, "Take control of yourself, damn it! We’re stuck in this place for tonight. You two were captured and I rescued you, remember?"
They glared at her.
"Bloody ungrateful buffoons. I could have gotten killed out there and you two would be gracing some Southlander’s bed. Tell me, how does it feel to be at the mercy of someone stronger?"
"They are not stronger--" began Jase heatedly.
"Smarter, then. Smart enough to capture two Daamens and slap an obedience collar on you both." Picking up the obedience box, she tossed it into the air and caught it easily. "No choice, boys. No one listening to your protests, no one caring what you felt. Mayhaps I should have left you at the Southlanders’ mercy." Tossing the box onto the table, she strode angrily to the bedroom.
"Where are you going?" Garret scowled.
"To find a medipack," she snapped, entering the bathroom.
Jase looked at Garret, his expression slightly sheepish. "I think we might have overstepped ourselves."
Garret’s expression eased a little. "The lass is correct. By saving us, she risked her own life."
"I’m glad you realize that." Dana stalked back into the room, a small kit in her hands.
"That doesn’t mean I agree with your methods," Garret said.
"Tell someone who cares." She dropped the kit onto the table. "Now sit down and shut up."
Already raw nerves grated. "And what if I don’t? Are you going to use the obedience box on me?"
"I beg your pardon?" She stared up at him.
"You’re getting damned good at giving orders."
"Don’t take your injured pride out on me, big man!"
"Injured pride?" He repeated indignantly.
"Yes! If you resent my help so much and my methods, then get away from here yourself!" Snatching up the laser and sword belt, she stormed over to the door.
Her words slammed into Garret even as the door slammed behind her. And the words hurt because they were true.
Looking at Jase, he saw the reflection of his own shame in his friend’s eyes. Dana was correct. Their pride had been severely battered, for no one had ever bested a Daamen trader. That wenches had done so...
As one they leaped for the door, but Garret got there first, wrenching it open to see Dana standing just outside with her back to it. She was lowering the sword belt so that she could fasten the laser belt around her hips.
She didn’t know whether to rage in fury or cry. A hot tightness filled her throat. How could he? After all she’d done, all she’d risked? Well, the bloody ungrateful bastard could find his own way back, he and his buffoon of a friend! She’d had enough. Not another minute would she stand there and be insulted. No way--
Her thoughts were cut off abruptly by a long arm snaking around her waist and yanking her off her feet and back through the doorway into the room. The door was slammed shut and she was dropped to her feet as abruptly as she’d been picked up.
Still clutching the belts, she whirled around to glare up at Garret. "What now? Haven’t finished insulting me? Well, bad luck! This is goodbye!" Swinging around, she reached for the door handle.
A muscular arm shot over her shoulder and a large hand slammed flat against the door, holding it shut. "Nay, wait!"
"Let me out!"
He was close--too close. She could feel the heat from his skin.
"I’m sorry," Garret said. "What I--we--said was unforgivable."
"Where is the insult?"
He winced. "No insult, Dana, though I can’t blame you for thinking so. Nay, you’re right. Our pride is bruised and we’ve taken it out on you."
"Being nice now, are we?"
"Truly, lass, we apologize," Jase said. "You saved our lives."
Her eyes switched from one shame-filled face to the other, then abruptly she ducked beneath Garret’s arm. "Very well."
They watched her walk over to the table and open the medipack. With narrowed eyes she looked at Garret and jerked her head at the armchair beside the table. Wisely he remained silent and did as bidden, striding over to sit on the edge of the armchair.
Jaw tight, she took the items she needed from the kit.
"We were so glad to see you," Garret began.
She grunted.
"The idea of being sold..." He shuddered at the memory of lust-filled faces.
Silence greeted this.
"I’d rather be your slave than anyone else’s, lass."
Unappeased, Dana carefully untied the bloodied bandana and dropped it onto the table. Picking up a wet wipe, she started to clean the dried blood and dirt from the wound on his head.
For several seconds Jase watched her swift, angry movements before wandering around the room, idly peering at the few paintings adorning the walls.
"Where are Simon, Red and Cam?" Garret asked.
"Safe on the ship," was the curt reply. "I was the only one who had a chance of getting to you both."
"I see. Thank you."
She grunted. "How did the Southlanders capture you?"
"Caught us by surprise." He winced. "Ouch."
"Was that how you were injured?" Dropping the bloodied wipe onto a piece of paper, she picked up a clean one.
"They’re trigger happy--"
"One of the Southlanders aimed at me and Garret knocked her laser aside," Jase interrupted. "The slaver shot him."
Momentarily her hand stopped, then she resumed cleaning the wound. "She makes a bad enemy. I’ll have to cut the dead, burnt edges away to prevent infection then stitch it closed. Think you can handle the pain?"
He smiled a little. "With you taking care of me, I can handle anything."
She snorted and picked up the small, sharp scissors. "Hold still."
It did hurt, the cutting of scissors through his skin stinging harshly. But the fingers on his head were cool and the soft swell of breasts were close to his face while she leaned forward to attend the wound.
A faint floral scent drifted through Garret’s senses and his mind wasn’t on the sting of the scissor cuts. It was on the blonde wench standing so close to him.
Deftly she sewed the cut closed and blotted antiseptic onto it. Garret sucked in his breath at the stinging sensation it produced.
Jase looked at them. "So, now what do we do?"
"We’re stuck here for the night," Dana replied. "All we can do is wait the storm out."
"Mayhaps it’ll finish earlier than Zar says," he sprawled onto the sofa.
"We can go earlier, then." Garret dragged his attention from the generously rounded breasts so close to his face.
"I don’t think that’s wise." Dana stuck a self-adhesive patch over the wound and stepped back. "It’d look suspicious, leaving so soon after accepting the Southlander’s hospitality."
"I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary."
"We don’t have much choice. In case you’ve forgotten, trader, you’ve lost some blood and have been unconscious. You need to rest."
"Rest? In this viper’s nest? Are you out of your mind?"
Seven
Calmly, she packed up the medipack. "I know of what I talk. For now, we are safe. For how long, I don’t know, but we should refresh ourselves and relax while we can."
"Shouldn’t we be on guard?" Jase asked
.
"I’ll be on guard while you two rest."
Garret looked dubiously at her.
"Tired, you’d be of little use to me in a fight."
There was no arguing that. The lass had a point, Garret thought.
"While you’re at it, have a shower," Dana added.
"How the hell can you think of a shower at a time like this?"
"You look as though you’ve crawled out of a cesspit."
Damn, her tongue was sharp. "I apologize if my state of uncleanliness offends you."
"I know that you’re only a male, but try to stay with me on this, all right? You and Jase are supposed to be my slaves and Zar thinks we’re in here having..." She stumbled to a halt.
"Sex?"
"Whatever." A fiery blush crept into lightly tanned cheeks. "Until we’re away from here, we must keep up the appearance of mistress and slaves, so go clean up."
With a sigh, Garret stood up resignedly. "Very well. I concede to your wisdom in this--"
"That’s a first. Take this kit with you and return it to the bathroom cabinet."
He arched one brow.
"Please."
"Much nicer. You know," he stopped beside her to gaze down into her eyes. "I really am glad you’re here. Thank you. I’m sorry I was such a bastard before."
"You can’t help it."
Rolling his eyes, he strode across the floor and into the bedroom.
The man was lethal to her senses.
"Are you all right, lass?" Jase asked from behind her.
"What? Oh, aye." Her gaze fell on his loincloth.
He followed her gaze. "They must have taken our clothes when they gassed us."
"Gassed you?"
He grimaced. "Aye. Last night we wore our own clothes. They sealed off our cell and put us to sleep with gas. When we awoke, we wore only these scraps of material and these collars." He touched the metal encircling his neck.
Frowning, she started for the door. "I’d better try and find your clothes, or at least something decent for you to wear."
"Nay, not on your own--"
"Wait here," was the curt order and the door slammed shut.
Cursing to himself, knowing he had no choice, Jase subsided onto the sofa again.
Striding through the silent dwelling, Dana came upon the young slave boy near the lounge.
He glanced up at the warrior towering above him. "You wish something, lady?"
"Where would I find the clothes my slaves wore when they were captured?"
"Possibly in the slave quarters near the auction dais, if they haven’t been destroyed already. Do you wish for me to find out, lady?"
She studied him for several seconds before replying more softly. "No, thank you. I’ll go."
Besides, she might find Rominac while she was there.
"It’s raining very hard."
Hell, I’d forgotten about that.
Seeing her scowl, he hurriedly suggested, "I could get you a rain cover to keep you dry."
Opening the door, she stared out at the pouring rain that was fast turning the street to mud. Going out in that cold downpour didn’t appeal at all. "Don’t worry about it." She shut the door again.
The boy nodded then stated, "Zar requests your company tonight at dinner."
"Does she?"
"Yes. She said that your slaves may attend, too. Of course, they will have to sit on the floor."
Oh, Garret and Jase would take that well, sitting on a cold floor in loincloths. A sudden picture of Garret in all his near-naked glory flashed through her mind, along with Zar’s knowing gaze studying him. Devouring him. No way on this forsaken planet!
"I’ve changed my mind." She yanked open the door. "Get me the rain covering."
Bewildered, the boy looked from the driving rain to Dana. "But--"
"Now!"
He scuttled away.
Dana scowled. Bloody hell! Why was she so worried about Zar seeing Garret nearly naked? She wouldn’t be the first. The Daamens were a lusty race and no doubt the trader was used to being naked with a wench--many wenches, in fact. That particular thought made her teeth clench. Well, bad luck for Zar! While she was supposedly the mistress of Garret--and Jase--she was going to ensure that he--they--were decently covered!
The boy returned holding a waterproof covering.
Donning the hood, she shook the cloak down to her knees.
"It’s supposed to come down to your feet." Worriedly he chewed his thumbnail. "Please, lady, let me go--"
"No, you stay in the dry warmth."
Surprised, he watched the tall woman disappear into the rain, staring long after she’d vanished from sight. It had been a long time since anyone had thought of his comfort.
~ * ~
Slogging her way through the deserted streets, Dana finally reached the auction dais and made for the sheltering verandah in front of a shop.
A woman dressed in the customary silver jacket and pants gazed up at her curiously. "Bad weather for walking, stranger."
"Mayhaps. I look for the cells where the slaves for auction are kept."
"You’ll have to go back across the street."
Wonderful. Grunting her thanks, she plunged once more into the rain. By the time she made the shelter of the opposite verandah, her boots were soaked through and mud had splashed up her legs.
Pushing the hood back, she glanced to both sides and quickly located the heavy, wooden studded door with a barred window. At the low moan and harsh voice issuing from behind it, a feeling of revulsion swept through her. True, men were useless, all talk and strut and bravado but slavery of them, or anyone, turned her stomach. Unfortunately, it was also the way of some planets. Countries and galaxies coexisted through non-interference of other cultures.
Giving herself a mental shake, she thrust the door open to find a long corridor stretching out before her, harsh lights overhead. On each side were cells, mostly empty except for a few containing men. All were dressed in loincloths and with the metal obedience collar encircling their throats.
A door to her left opened and a small, thin woman appeared. "Ah, the stranger everyone is talking about!"
"Oh?"
"It’s not often that anyone bests Gera."
"I see." She seized upon the opportunity to gain further information. "Gera appears to be in charge of the slaves?"
"Buying and selling." With a leer the woman jerked her thumb at the occupied cells. "Not to mention trying out the merchandise."
"Do enlighten me. Isn’t the merchandise worth more untouched?"
"Fresh slaves are more profitable, true, but Gera is very smart. She pays for the privilege of a night or two with whatever slave takes her fancy."
"I see."
"So." The woman folded her arms in a businesslike manner. "What can I do for you, stranger?"
"I want the clothes my slaves were wearing when they were captured."
"Are you sure? It seems a shame to hide such gorgeous bodies. If I had slaves built like that, they’d be running around naked!"
"My slaves are for my eyes only," Dana said tightly.
The tall woman suddenly seemed more menacing, the glare of lights casting harsh shadows upon her face. "Ah--I think I know where the clothes might be."
"Might be?" Dana’s expression hardened. "You mean you don’t know for sure?"
There was no way Garret was going to continue to parade around near naked in front of these panting lechers!
Paling beneath the glare, the woman hastily started down the corridor. "Sometimes the clothes are disposed of immediately, however, there hasn’t been time today, what with the rain and everything. The clothes should still be in the back room."
As soon as she was out of sight, Dana gazed at the occupants of the nearest cells. The men, of which there were six, were aged between thirty and fifty. Eyes dull with resignation followed her progress with disinterest.
The rest of the cells were empty, except for one near the end. It was lit dimly, in shar
p contrast to the others, and a sense of foreboding filled her. Peering in, she saw a figure lying atop a thin mattress. Dark hair flopped over the brow of the young man, his pale face shadowed. Unlike the other slaves, he wore a tunic over long pants.
Even in the shadows he appeared familiar and her heart beat faster. Was it her brother? The features were similar to Diago’s, but when she’d last seen him, he’d been a boy of four. Fifteen years made a lot of difference.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open and he stared straight at her. With the light behind her, it was obvious that he couldn’t see her clearly. He narrowed hazel eyes, trying to make out her features. A frown furrowed his brow and he sat up quickly.
"Rominac?"
"Who are you?" He stood up cautiously.
"Keep your voice down. Are you Rominac, son of Diago?"
"You know I am."
"I do now. Listen to me carefully and say nothing. I’ve been sent to rescue you--"
"My father sent a woman?"
"Don’t sound so incredulous. Could a man do this? Repeat nothing of this conversation to anyone. I’ll release you as soon as I can."
"Who are--your clothes. You’re a Reeka!"
"Hush! I am."
"You seem so familiar..."
The sound of the woman’s voice made Dana step hurriedly away from the cell.
"Here’s the clothes, stranger." The woman approached holding up pants, vests and boots. "Luckily the weather turned so bad or it would have been too late."
"Most fortunate." Dana wondered if she should ask about Rominac now or pretend ignorance.
"If you wish to wait until the rain eases a little, you’re welcome to have a drink with me in the office."
"Thank you, but I must decline. I’m to dine with Zar tonight and I’d like to rest first." And try to figure out what the hell to do about Rominac.
The woman opened the door leading out onto the verandah. Tucking the clothes beneath the rain covering, Dana nodded to her and made her way back to Zar’s home.
The wind picked up, snapping the cloak hard against her legs, chilling her to the bone. Needing to get back to the comfort of her room to think, she lengthened her stride.
The boy slave was hovering anxiously at the door. Divesting her of the dripping cover, he stared in dismay at her wet legs and muddy boots.
With a wry grin, she removed her boots and padded into the house holding them in her hands.
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