His hands suddenly cupped her breasts fully, heat searing through the thin material of the chauri. "I do not see you as a child."
She blushed. He couldn't miss it this time with the gaali stone lighting the inside of the tent with daylight brightness. He smiled She scowled.
"Don't sidestep the issue," she said. "I wasn't talking about sex, but general overall treatment. I've heard the ridiculous rules you place on your women, that they have to dress a certain way, that they can't walk out their front door without having their hand held by some man. Has it even occurred to you how demeaning I would find such rules?"
Now he frowned. "You were told the rules but not why there are such rules?"
"Martha didn't want to discuss them at all, probably because she finds them as offensive as I do."
"They are not meant to offend, but to protect."
"If your town was a civilized town, then I could walk its streets without fear of being bothered. Are you going to tell me it's not civilized?"
"How many times were you told that Sha‑Ka'an is viewed by modern worlds as a barbaric world? Did you truly think you would find equality between men and women here?"
The blush was back. She had been forgetting that. Not that it meant much when this was all make‑believe anyway, but if she was going to go along with the program‑or at least accept the possibility that Dalden really did believe all this‑then she needed to keep in mind that nothing here was going to be what she would call normal. Why was she even fighting it? What she needed to figure out was if she could live with it‑at least until the "program" was over.
"All right, so you're barbarians‑I'm sorry, I know you don't like that word, but you brought it up. And you say these rules that I object to are for my own protection. Why? What happens if I don't follow them?"
You will be punished."
"You have jails for this?"
"No."
"Whipping posts?"
"Do not be silly, woman," he said sternly. "Your punishment would be mine to give, and you know I would not cause you physical pain."
She did know that. He was always mindful of his greater strength, always so careful in touching her. She sighed, leaned forward to lay her head on his chest.
"I'm beginning not to like this discussion," she said in a tired voice.
He immediately began to soothe her with his hands. "We need not finish it now, yet it is my wish that you have no more questions when we leave here."
She was all for that. She'd avoided those answers, or had had them avoided for her, too long now.
"That must have been quite a talk you had with your father," she remarked.
"How did you‑?"
"Martha."
"Ah, Martha. Indeed, she was thorough in her report. My parents were together to hear it."
"I take it you're ignoring her advice to continue patience with me?"
"My patience has not assisted you to full acceptance," he said.
"Dalden, I'm never going to accept this fantasy. If you can't accept that‑"
"Answer me this, kerima," he cut in. "If you did believe everything that has been told you, would it change your feelings for me?"
"No," she said without hesitation.
"This is what my father pointed out to me. Martha's predictions of doomed failure did not take into account a woman's heart, which Martha can never fully understand."
"Then why bring me out here?"
"To assist you to a full acceptance of me."
"But I‑"
He put a finger to her lips. "I will endeavor to explain what I mean. The culture differences that so worried Martha are indeed real. Already you have shown an unwillingness to embrace my culture. What you have yet to realize is there is no choice in the matter, for you or for me. If this were a different country in your world that you were visiting, would you refuse to obey its laws while you were there? Would you expect immunity from those laws simply because you were not born there?"
"No, but‑"
Once again he didn't let her finish. "Then why do you resist doing so here? Because here is not real to you? Is your denial, then, the true problem after all?"
"But what's that got to do with a full acceptance of you?" she demanded.
"Everything, kerima," he said gently. "You will have to obey our rules. You will be punished if you do not. Can you accept this, and understand that it is not something I will enjoy doing? A warrior
often suffers as much, if not more, in the punishment of his woman.
She didn't snort, though the urge was there. They treated their women like children‑the punishments were no doubt of the same nature. His worry, and what was beginning to worry her as well, was, could she accept him enforcing one of those childish punishments on her? Probably not. But she could compromise. She could follow their silly rules so that the matter would never be put to the test.
She said as much. "How 'bout I just obey the rules, so you can stop worrying about punishments you're never going to have to dish out? Will that ease your mind?"
"It pleases me greatly that you will make this effort," he said gravely.
Her brow knitted in a frown. "Then why don't you look pleased? That wasn't what you wanted to hear, was it? Do you really want my permission‑and forgiveness‑before the fact?"
"These things are not needful," he replied. "It is your understanding that I wish to assure. I have explained what can happen. I need to know that you understand why such things are necessary here. "
She counted to ten before she lost it over what wasn't needed. She finally sighed.
"I think I'll take you up on that offer to drop the subject for now. You've given me a lot to think about. I need some time to digest it."
Having said that, she tried once again to move off his lap and out of his reach. Again, she couldn't. She narrowed her eyes on him.
"That's major advantage taking, using your strength against me like this."
"A benefit of a warrior," he said, grinning at her to show that he might be teasing, but she'd place her wager on not. "For what reason do you wish to move?"
"So I can sulk, of course," she retorted.
He shook his head at her, still grinning. "If we are done with discussing matters of importance, then it is time for‑other things." "Such as?" "A benefit of being a woman." It turned out to be quite a benefit that night.
Chapter Forty‑eight
IT NEVER SEEMED TO CHANGE, THE COMPLETE AND utter distraction of Dalden's kisses. From the moment his mouth claimed hers, everything else was forgotten. Where they were, what they'd been discussing, her annoyance‑all gone with the touch of his lips.
That was quite a power he had over her. If she didn't trust him, it might worry her, that power.
He stripped her in his lap, a task made too easy by the chauri. He merely placed his hands by her neck, moved them over her shoulders and down her arms in a slow caress, and the chauri went with them, baring her to the waist. She barely noticed because he was still kissing her, a deep "you're mine" kind of kiss that instantly ignited her passions‑which was a good thing. His hands might be slowly caressing her, but the rest of him was on a much faster time schedule. A slight change in her position and she was impaled and exploding with pleasure. All within a matter of minutes. And still sitting on his lap!
Dazed, breathless, still throbbing, she barely had a chance to notice his grin before he began anew. And thus it went for most of the night. She lost count of the many different pleasures she received. Her barbarian was inexhaustible. She wasn't, but sleep wasn't on the agenda. He had only to touch her again, to start the kissing again, and she was fully awake and in need.
Overdosed on pleasure. Absolutely amazing. This was his way, she knew, of making up for all the harsh "realities" of his world that she didn't like, by reminding her of the benefits‑the benefits of being a woman. What he should have said was the benefits of being his woman.
She was hard pressed when she finally awoke the next day to ge
t rid of the silly grin she was wearing. It was late. They'd slept the morning away, or at least she had. He was already awake and simply holding her next to him when her eyes opened. And he seemed no more inclined than she was to start up that depressing "this is how it is" conversation again.
He fed her leftovers from the night before. He wanted to know about fishing, which she'd mentioned more than once. They apparently had fish in their lakes and streams, but no one had ever bothered to think of adding them to their list for daily consumption. She didn't buy that, but had fun whittling a fishing pole with one of his daggers, borrowing some hataar tail hair to braid for a line, and showing him how to use the finished product in the stream nearby.
He was impressed, but he concluded there was no challenge in hunting fish, as he put it. He preferred larger game that would provide more than just one meal. She'd already figured out that he would be doing some of that kind of hunting on this trip, and he left around midafternoon to take care of finding their dinner.
She wasn't sure why she'd thought she'd be allowed to go with him. Actually, it was probably because when she'd hunted with her brothers, they'd all done it together. But women here weren't
allowed to hunt whether they knew how to or not. Nor was it open to discussion. She was ordered to stay in the tent while he was gone, to not leave it under any circumstances, and that was that.
He did pause long enough to explain that the tent was her only protection while he wasn't with her. It would be considered her home, and as long as she was In It, any warriors who might come by wouldn't intrude without Permission. It was also built sturdily enough to keep out any animals, so she'd be safe as long as she stayed in it.
She'd had to agree to do that before he would leave. She felt he was making too much out of nothing. She'd been outside while he was there, down to the stream, around the edges of the clearing. It was a peaceful setting. She wasn't worried about being left alone there, was more annoyed at being restricted to the tent than anything else.
But he assured her he wouldn't be gone long, gave her a parting kiss to give her something else to think about, and rode off. She paced about the tent for a bit‑prowled was more like it‑until she finally shrugged off her annoyance and decided to grab a short nap to pass the time.
She'd no sooner laid down on the soft fur rug than she heard the hataar that had been grazing in the clearing run off. She didn't think much of it. If it was anything at all like a horse, even a bird flying past could spook it. The animal should have been staked. Dalden would just have to go chase it down when he got back. But then she heard other noises closer by, the sound of clicking, of something dragging on the grass, a couple of thumps.
She got slowly to her feet. She'd heard Dalden's hataar leave. She would have heard it return. It wasn't Dalden out there making noises around the tent edges. The sounds were too strange to be coming from a human anyway, so it was some animal investigating the tent. She still wasn't that alarmed. If it was a predator, it would have chased after the hataar‑unless it counted the hataar as too big to handle.
She had no weapon other than her fishing pole, which wouldn't do her a bit of good against the two‑legged kind of predator, but might scare off the four‑legged kind. But she was more curious than anything else. This was an unplanned visit, so no illusions or costumes would be involved. She had a chance to see a perfectly normal‑looking animal from her world, a deer maybe, or a bear, something to reinforce her version of where they were.
She just wanted a quick look. Dalden wasn't there to see her disobey his order, and she'd be back in the tent before he was. She unlatched the tent flap. The animal was on the left side of the tent. She stepped outside, moved slowly to that corner, and peeked around it‑and stared wide‑eyed at yet another oddity that defied belief
It was a long, spiked tail that had been dragging on the ground. Her gasp drew slanted yellow eyes to her. She ducked back and dove back into the tent, but it used powerful legs to leap over the corner to try to stop her. It was so swift it had turned and landed in time to see where she went, and pushed its way in behind her. She didn't know that until she turned to secure the flap and saw it squatting there Just inside the tent, staring at her.
She had absolutely no idea what it was. The animals she'd seen so far, though weird, still bore some resemblance to animals she knew. Not this thing. It was big, about four and a half feet tall, and fat, at least on the bottom half of it. The top half tapered to thin shoulders and a round head with pointy ears, no visible nose, those slanted yellow eyes, and a jutting jaw with lots of teeth. Its arms were misshapen and seemed too short compared to the rest of it to do anything. It maneuvered and balanced itself with the long tail and powerful, squat legs, each with three clawed toes. It was gray and hairless, its skin wrinkly. If not for all those exposed teeth, it would simply look funny.
She was nervous, but she didn't think anything that looked that weird could be dangerous. It could have just followed her out of curiosity. A lot of animals were more afraid of humans than vice versa, and this one might just need reminding of that. With that in mind, she picked up the fishing pole at her feet and thrust it for
ward like a sword, at the same time screeching really loudly. Nothing. It just stared at her.
Annoyed now, she poked her whittled stick at it a few more times, growling, "Get the bell out of my house. Go on. Scot! Shoo! "
One thrust actually touched it. It didn't like that, started some growling of its own, and that clicking sound again. Its teeth? The claws on its stubby arms? She couldn't tell, but decided one of them had to leave. And if it wouldn't ...
She moved slowly to the front of the tent, forcing it to turn to keep its eyes on her. She hit her stick on the floor a few times, trying to get the thing to move back away from the opening that it was blocking. It did, but its growling increased. It was getting angry. It lowered its head nearly to the ground, raised it again.
She was afraid it was getting ready to rush her. She would have liked to back it farther into the corner before she exited, her hope being that if she made enough noise on that side of the tent from the outside, it would turn in that direction rather than follow her, and trap itself in the tent long enough for her to get away.
She ducked outside, screamed Dalden's name, ran her stick along the side of the tent as she raced toward the back, then ran straight for the stream. Water. A scent masker. And she'd noticed a few pockets deep enough where she could submerge if necessary. She just had to reach it while that thing was still trying to find its way out of the tent.
It landed in front of her. It had leapt an incredible distance to land right in front of her! And there was no stopping, as fast as she'd been running. She collided with it, tumbled over it, and rolled down the rest of the bank, coming to rest half in, half out of the stream.
She was dazed, but too frightened now for that to stop her. She sat up. It was foremost in her mind that she had to get to the other side of the water. It might be afraid of the water, or at least wary enough not to cross it. That could be her only salvation.
It landed on top of her, breaking half of her rib cage, crushing
one lung. There was no breath left for screaming, no breath at all. She fainted for a moment, and woke up to excruciating pain ... wet, warm, bloody, She wasn't dead yet, but wished she was. Its hands really were useless. it was dragging her out of the water with its teeth, feeling like it was ripping off half her leg in the process.
Her last thought before the pain sent her back into blessed nothing was that Dalden had brought her across the universe to be eaten by a stupid beast. He wouldn't be pleased.
Chapter Forty‑nine
ARE THEY REALLY THAT STUPID?" TEDRA DEMANDED OF the computer link in her hand. "To declare war on a League‑protected planet is to declare war on the entire Confederation."
“Not stupid," was Martha's placid reply. "Just too primitive to think that far ahead."
Tedra was furious, not over the audacity o
f the inhabitants of Century III who had arrived en masse, but because Challen was taking this seriously and looking for‑ward to a good old‑fashioned war. But there'd be nothing old‑fashioned about it. The Centurians weren't planning on landing for any hands‑on fighting. They'd be bombarding from space.
Jorran had apparently done a lot of crying and complaining when he got home. That he hadn't been in the best condition, left somewhat deformed by his mended injuries, had obviously enraged his relatives enough to want revenge on his behalf You simply didn't treat a High King that way and expect to live to tell about it.
The highest High King of the lot, Cayden, head of their royal family, had confiscated every visiting ship in their star system, for a total of twenty‑three ships, from common traders and swift privateers to battleships. An impressive flotilla, which was probably why Cayden had sounded so confident. He thought he had the upper hand.
Martha disagreed. "Rust buckets," she called his entire fleet, every one of them so ancient, they hadn't been converted to crysillium, much less gaali power. Which was why she wasn't the least bit concerned about this invasion. Still aboard the Androvia, she was just waiting for permission to blast the Centurians back to where they came from.
Challen was refusing to give that permission, which was probably a good thing. The Centura League strived to avoid war, to exercise any and all peaceful options first, resorting to war only as an absolute last measure. They expected planets under their protection to follow suit. Tedra knew that and would have been pointing it out, if she weren't taking this personally. Challen was also taking it personally, but for different reasons.
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