Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] (17 page)

would stay the night. At the last moment she changed her mind about speaking. He was the one who had

imposed the silence between them. She'd be damned if she would be the one to break it. Kalena thought

about that reaction and decided that she must, indeed, be returning to normal. It seemed strange to be

feeling any real emotion, even simple resentment.

Half an hour later, Ridge halted his bird in front of an inn that carried the sign of a jeweled sintar. Kalena

waited obediently while her husband went inside to arrange accommodations. From her perch in the

saddle she examined the small village with the first curiosity she had felt in days.

The collection of timbered buildings was obviously the center of a local farming community. The market

square in the middle of the village was silent at this time of day, but was undoubtedly the hub of activity

from morning until late afternoon. This village was a great deal more rural and unsophisticated in many

ways than the ones of the Interlock valley. The windows were protected by wooden shutters rather than

glass panes, and the buildings had been constructed with only utility in mind, not architectural interest.

People passing through the inn yard stared at her covertly, making Kalena aware of how few strangers

probably came through Adverse. Her wide-legged riding pants and short, fitted tunic jacket probably

appeared quite outrageous to the women in their long, conservatively styled tunics. The men stared, too.

Kalena ignored them all and waited stoically for Ridge to reappear. Before long, she grew cold as the

evening chill descended.

"All right," Ridge announced brusquely as he strode back outside. "We have a room upstairs. Go on up.

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I'll bring the bags and see to the creets."

Kalena nodded. Such orders had been the limit of his conversation for the past three days. She slid from

the saddle, clinging to the leather as her booted feet touched the ground. For a moment she held on to the

saddle to steady herself while her trembling thigh muscles decided if they could support her. She knew

Ridge was watching her out of the corner of his eye as he collected the reins. Refusing to give him the

satisfaction of seeing her hanging onto the leather, she forced herself to step back. The wide legs of her

riding pants fell together to form a reasonably modest skirt as she moved toward the inn entrance. Kalena

didn't look back as Ridge led the creets to the stables.

Inside the inn people turned to stare as Kalena moved to the front desk where the innkeeper handed her

a key. "I wish you good evening, innkeeper," she murmured politely. He nodded and indicated the stairs.

"I'll want a bath," she informed him.

"There is a facility for women at the end of the hall," he explained proudly. "We have installed the latest

heating technique for the water. Just pull the cord in the bathing room and the waterwill be sent through

the pipes into the pool."

Kalena smiled gratefully. "That sounds wonderful." Hurrying upstairs, she opened the door of the small

sleeping chamber and examined the one pallet that awaited. Another night of pretending an invisible wall

ran down the center of the pallet lay ahead of her. She would cling to her side until she fell asleep and

when Ridge joined her after an hour or two downstairs in the tavern he would help himself to the largest

portion of the pallet. Wondering how long such a situation could continue without some sort of explosion,

Kalena prepared for her bath. Tonight, she decided, she would eat dinner downstairs.

Although a more normal sense of awareness had returned and the dull apathy had faded, Kalena knew

that nothing had changed for her. She was stuck with Ridge for the duration of the journey unless he

chose to terminate the marriage contract. She had, after all, signed that agreement herself. She was honor

bound to fulfill the terms of the contract. She might have been a failure as an assassin, but pride

demanded she not fail her other obligations as well.

* * *

An hour later, Ridge lounged across from Kalena as they sat at a low, wooden dining table. He was

amazed that she could kneel in such a polite, feminine fashion after three brutal days in the saddle. He had

shown no surprise when she had followed him downstairs for dinner, but inwardly he was relieved that

she was beginning to eat properly again. He had told himself that a couple of missed meals wouldn't hurt

her, but this morning he had begun to wonder if he should let her continue to skip the evening meal. She

needed her strength, especially with the way he had been driving her and the creets for the past three

days.

There had been no need to set such a rough pace on the trail. Ridge knew he had done so solely to

work off his own anger and frustration, and to punish Kalena. He was certain she had been suffering, but

she had neither complained nor pleaded. After the first day her proud refusal to do either had had the

effect of angering him further. He had seen to it that the second day was no easier on her than the first.

Still she had said nothing. She seemed to accept the punishment as if she believed it were her due after

failing to kill Quintel.

Her bleak acceptance of this penalty of failure finally convinced Ridge his wife had taken her role of

assassin very seriously. He still found the notion of a woman committing ritual vengeance totally

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outlandish, but he couldn't doubt Kalena's emotional reaction. She had meant to kill Quintel and

considered herself a disgrace to her House because she hadn't been able to complete the act.

She had the pride of a true born House lady, Ridge acknowledged. He was forced to admire it even as

he told himself he would subdue it. He no longer doubted for a moment that she was who she claimed to

be.

He had wed the daughter of a Great House and she undoubtedly despised him. Ridge's mouth thinned as

he took a long swallow of red ale. That was her problem, he told himself. She had contracted the

marriage willingly enough and now she was stuck with it. So was he, for that matter.

One thing was for certain. The present situation had continued long enough. They faced a long trip

together and Ridge decided he was not going to spend the rest of the venture with a silent, sulking

woman. The time to restore a more normal harmony between them had come. They were, after all,

husband and wife. Ridge reminded himself that a husband's duty was to ensure his wife's obedient and

proper behavior.

He watched Kalena finish off the last of her meal and marveled silently at her perfect manners. She used

a fingerspear with a grace that verified her tale of being a daughter of a Great House. He should have

realized several days ago just what her excellent manners really implied. Instead of considering the matter

logically, he had taken egotistical pride in the fact that he was to many a well mannered female. A man's

ego could blind him on occasion, Ridge thought grimly.

"If you're finished, go upstairs to bed. I'll join you in a little while," he told her roughly. He instantly

regretted the tone of his voice. He didn't have to order her about as if she were a servant. She was his

wife and deservedameasure of respect. He tried to smooth over the gruff command by adding an

explanation of his plans for the evening. "I want to talk to the innkeeper and some of the men in the

tavern. We're getting into more isolated, rural areas now, and it's time I started asking a few questions.

One of Quintel's other trade masters , disappeared near here. I'd like to avoid the same fate."

Kalena raised her eyebrows in subtle mockery of his belated graciousness but said nothing. She got to

her feet, inclined her head a little too subserviently, and turned to make her way up the stairs to the

second level.

Ridge watched her go, his eyes narrowed. The woman had a way of taunting him without even opening

her mouth. Ah, well, her silent resentment was better than the dull, apathetic resignation she had been

wallowing in for the past couple of days. At least he thought it was. Ridge picked up his ale tankard again

and considered how little he knew about handling a highborn lady who laid claim to the heritage of a

Great House.

But one single fact was clear. Lady or not, she was his wife.

Ridge finished his ale, got to his feet and sauntered into the smoky tavern that connected to the dining

area. The place was half full of local men who might or might not be willing to gossip about the last few

Sand caravans that had passed through the village, and especially about Quintel's last investigator,

Trantel.

He had a job to do, Ridge reminded himself. He would deal with his proud, sulking bride later.

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Kalena fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow of her pallet. Even the lingering ache in her

thighs was not enough to keep her awake. She never heard Ridge enter the room, but when he slid

naked under the lanti wool blankets and put his big hand on her arm, Kalena blinked sleepily. He had not

touched her in bed since the trip had begun, and even through the drowsy haze that enveloped her

Kalena sensed the significance of the action.

"There will be no more sulks or silence, Kalena," Ridge announced huskily as he turned her onto her

back. "You've brooded long enough. It's time you started acting like a wife. My wife."

In the shadows she opened sleepy eyes to find him leaning over her, harsh intent etched in every line of

his face. Kalena immediately understood that Ridge had come to some inner decision. One way or

another he had gotten himself a wife and he had decided to avail himself of the convenience. Resentment

warred with the feminine intuition that told Kalena things might be a good deal easier if she played the

role of dutiful, if not necessarily loving, bride. It was, after all, more than a role. Nothing could change the

fact that she was this man's legal wife. Ridge had not dissolved the contract, and unless both of them

agreed to do so, before the completion of their trade venture, it stood as a legal document.

She had been a failure in the role of assassin. Perhaps she could manage this duty better. The days of

silence had been hard on both of them.

On the other end of the Spectrum, there was her pride to beconsidered. Enduring Ridge's idea of

punishment was one thing; submitting to his demand that she carry out the duties of a wife was another. In

her sleepy daze, Kalena tried to reason out what honor demanded of her. The duties of a wife were very

clear. In a sense honor demanded that she perform them. She had, after all, signed that damned contract.

Normally pride was bound up with honor, but tonight it all seemed very confusing.

She found analyzing the whole thing at this hour of the night too difficult. Better to put it off until morning,

Kalena decided. She needed to work on the matter of figuring out just what her honor demanded in this

bizarre situation.

"Go to sleep, Ridge. You've been drinking." She turned onto her side, her back to him.

His hand tightened on her shoulder and a split second later Kalena found herself flat on her back once

more. She blinked up at him, startled by the fierceness of his grip. In the shadows his eyes were

gleaming.

"Spoken like a true, nagging wife," he taunted, throwing one bare leg over her thigh. He moved his leg

slightly and the hem of Kalena's nightdress was abruptly pushed up above her knees. "Don't worry about

the ale I've consumed. I'll still be able to perform my husbandly duty" He bent his head to cut off her

protest with his mouth.

Kalena awakened in a hurry as she realized Ridge meant business tonight. Automatically, she started to

struggle and found her wrists pinned to the bed as Ridge moved more completely to cover her. The hard

weight of his body crushed her deeply into the pallet, and when he moved his hips against her she could

feel the fierceness of his arousal through the soft fabric of her nightdress.

His lips moved on hers, not to seek a response but to ensure her submission. Kalena felt the heat of his

mouth and sensed the urgent, compelling hunger that was driving him. She was torn between her natural

tendency to resist his arrogant demands and the knowledge that he had every right to make those

demands. He had been right; he might be a Houseless bastard, but he was herhusband. She had wed him

willingly enough and now she was forced to accept that fact. Things might not have turned out as she had

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expected, but for the duration of this venture she was Ridge's wife. And she already knew that he was

capable of pleasing his woman in a very fundamental way.

Pride, honesty and the promise of passion swirled together in Kalena's mind, creating a chaos from

which there was no logical escape. While she struggled to sort it all out, Ridge pushed his hand up under

the hem of her nightdress and boldly claimed the treasure he sought.

Kalena, who had not yet made up her mind to choose pride or wifely humility, reacted angrily as his