Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] (2 page)

your name is Kalena of the House of the Summer Wind?"

Kalena inclined her head, embarrassed that she hadn't properly introduced herself. "I'm from the

Interlock valley." The contract contained no hint of her connection with the House of the Ice Harvest, of

course. Kalena and Olara wore their false names like a cloak.

"Welcome to Crosspurposes, Kalena," the woman said in a now friendly voice. "I'm Arrisa." She paused

and then added carelessly, "House of the Wet Fields." Obviously she didn't use her House name very

often. The words sounded rusty. "I'll be glad to take you to meet Ridge."

"You are very kind."

"Not at all." Arrisa grinned, leading her charge toward the far end of the teeming hall. "I'm just in the

mood for a good joke."

Kalena's chin lifted with a faint touch of Great House arrogance. "You think I'm going to be a source of

amusement for you?"

"We'll see, won't we? Ridge is probably up there on the second level. That's where the trade offices

are."

Arrisa led the way up a wide, curving staircase that opened onto the second level gallery of offices.

Kalena followed, still holding tightly to her precious contract. Olara had made it clear that it was

absolutely necessary to contract the less-than-acceptable trade marriage in order to get close to the

intended assassination victim. He was far too well protected to be reached otherwise.

Yes, she realized, it was still precious to her, even if it was a contract with a houseless man. No matter

how much below her the groom-to-be was, this marriage was still her ticket to freedom. Once she had

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accomplished the assassination, Aunt Olara had assuredKalena there would be no need to go on the trail

as a trade wife. If all went well, Kalena would carry out her task on her wedding night. After all, in the

depths of a Far Seeing trance, Olara had caught a glimpse of Kalena's intended victim dying amidst the

boisterous confusion of a large wedding party. Olara's trances had a way of proving very accurate.

When Olara had come out of that particular trance, she had assured her niece that the chaos that would

be caused in the household after the victim's death by an apparent heart attack would serve to protect

Kalena. The death would appear to be of natural causes and the resulting confusion should insure that

immediate, short-term business arrangements such as a trade marriage would be terminated with any

members or associate of her victim's House. But Kalena was especially glad of Olara's reassurances now

that she knew her intended husband was a man without a House name of any kind. Honor and duty

could demand many sacrifices from a woman in Kalena's position, but carrying out the responsibilities of

a wife, even a trade wife, to a bastard would have been asking a great deal. The prospect of becoming a

murderess was bad enough.

"Quintel's business is handled on this side of the gallery," Arrisa explained, leading Kalena past a row of

small rooms in which industrious looking clerks were working. The clerks were all males, naturally.

Quintel might use women in some areas of his trading business, but not in any role as prestigious as that

of clerk.

Kalena wondered what type of man she was about to meet. Perhaps this Ridge would be shy and

unassuming like one of these clerks. Things would certainly be easier if he were, she decided. She could

see herself having no trouble at all manipulating someone like that. More probably he would prove to be

a rough and uncouth trader who had risen through the ranks. Even if that were true, Kalena told herself,

she was confident she could handle the situation. It should be simple to intimidate such a man with her

Great House manners and accomplishments. Her spirits rose cheerfully at the thought.

"If I'm right, we'll find Ridge in this last office," Arrisa saidwith an air of gleeful expectation. "I hope you

don't mind if I stick around to watch?"

"Watch what? This is a business arrangement, Arrisa. I don't understand why you think it's going to be

amusing." Kalena halted behind her guide as the other woman stopped in front of an arched, open door.

As Arrisa slapped her hand against the side of the wall to get the attention of the two men inside, Kalena

tried to peer around her shoulder.

"Excuse me, Traders," Arrisa said with a formality that sounded almost mocking. "I have a visitor here

who says she has business with Trade Master Ridge."

The man sitting at the desk facing Kalena looked up with an annoyed frown. He was plump and balding

and he had a strip of reading glass dangling from a cord around his neck. He was older than Kalena had

expected, but other than that she saw no problem. Pure clerk mentality, she told herself. The daughter of

a Great House could handle him. She smiled winningly, ignoring the other man who still sat with his back

to her, booted feet resting casually on the desk as he studied a document in his hand. Kalena waited for

Arrisa to make the introductions.

"What is this all about, Arrisa?" the balding man asked irritably. "I am extremely busy at the moment."

"Don't fret yourself, Hotch," Arrisa said soothingly. "I told you, my companion is here to see Ridge, not

you."

"Damn it to the far end of the Spectrum," the man called Hotch muttered, snatching up a pen. "How am I

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expected to accomplish anything even remotely connected with business when I'm faced with continuing

interruptions? Kindly take care of this matter, Ridge, and then return so that we may finish Quintel's

report. I do have a job to do, you know"

So it's not the clerk, Kalena thought in mild dismay. Her attention swung to the second man in the room

as he slowly put down the document he had been studying and turned his head. His golden gaze flicked

disinterestedly across Arrisa's features and settled with jolting intensity on Kalena's face.

Definitely not the shy, unassuming type, Kalena decided. It occurred to Kalena in that moment that

matters might not be fated to proceed as easily as Olara had led her to expect.

Ridge removed his boots from the desk and got slowly to his feet with a lazy grace that implied he knew

his manners but didn't always choose to use them. His eyes never left Kalena. She found his curious,

golden gaze unexpectedly riveting. She had seen the brown-gold eye color that some labeled tawny

before, but Ridge's eyes did not fit that description. When she met his gaze, Kalena found herself looking

into the golden flames of a fire. The title Arrisa had used for him floated through Kalena's mind:
Fire

Whip.

He looked somewhat older than herself, by perhaps eight or nine years. Ridge was a grim-featured man,

his face carved with a harsh elegance that held no room for conventional handsomeness. His hair was a

shade of brown that was almost black, and he wore it slightly longer than the other townsmen Kalena had

seen, letting it brush the edge of his collarless shirt in back. He had apparently thrust it behind his ears

with a careless hand, but if it fell forward it would undoubtedly reach the lobes of his ears.

Ridge wore the wide-sleeved shirt favored by many of the traders on the floor below. His was undyed,

still the natural light shade of the lanti wool from which it had been woven. It was round at the neck, slit

halfway down the front and laced together with a thin leather tie. Ridge had left the top two lace openings

undone and Kalena could see a hint of the dark hair that apparently covered his chest. The shirt's cuffs

were deep and narrow, holding the fullness of the material out of the way in a practical fashion. The

hands that emerged from the wide cuffs seemed rather large to Kalena. They also looked quite strong,

capable of controlling a mount, a weapon and, perhaps, a woman. A flicker of amusement went through

Kalena as she found herself hoping he didn't attempt all three tasks simultaneously.

The trousers Ridge had on were belted with a heavy strip of zorcan leather. The garment fit him closely

from waist to thigh, revealing the taut, hard planes of his body before disappearing into the knee-high lanti

skin boots. A plain, unadorned sintar sheath hung from his leather belt together with a simple money

pouch.

He was a strongly built man with wide shoulders and a lean quality that was almost feline from the chest

down. No, Kalena thought, not feline, but whiplike. For a moment her imagination saw in him the same

promise of lethal danger that lay in a sheathed weapon.

She glanced at the sintar on his belt. For some reason the stark, undecorated blade seemed to

summarize the entire man. The sintar was a weapon that had long since evolved into a fashionable,

frequently gaudy dress accessory among the males of the Great Houses. The one Kalena carried in her

travel bag was a perfect example. It had belonged to her father and had been chased with gold and

studded with gems. It was a showpiece, and had never been used as anything but an adornment. But this

blade of Ridge's was of a far different nature. There was no doubt in her mind that the steel of this sintar

had been forged with one object in mind: to taste blood. Something tightened within her at the thought.

"I'm Ridge. What can I do for you?" He spoke quietly, ignoring Arrisa, who watched with glinting

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amusement. His voice was as dark and shadowed as the rest of him, and it seemed to touch Kalena's

nerve endings.

Kalena held out the document she had brought with her from the Interlock valley and forced herself to

remember that, intimidating though he might be at first glance, Ridge wore no Great House band on his

wrist. He couldn't even claim a small House name. That made her more than his equal. It might be a petty

consideration, especially given the fact that she was the last of her devastated House, but in that moment

Kalena decided she needed a slight edge. She was going to have her hands full with this man. Olara

should have warned her, she found herself thinking.

"I am Kalena, from the Interlock valley," she said with grave formality. "My aunt Olara negotiated this

contract with Trade Baron Quintel. It is an agreement for a trade marriage between you and I. My aunt

said that everything had been arranged and that you would be expecting me."

Ridge took the paper from her fingers, his eyes still on her face. Kalena could read nothing in the banked

fire of his gaze, but she was suddenly, vividly aware again of the size and strength of his hands as his

fingers brushed hers.

Ridge scanned the contract for a long, silent moment. Kalena was conscious of the curiosity in the clerk's

eyes and of the humorous expectation in Arrisa's manner. Kalena found herself growing rather anxious.

For the first time, she realized that, should Ridge claim no knowledge of the marriage contract, she would

feel horribly embarrassed in front of Hotch and Arrisa. She realized such a concern was stupid—some

would say quite femi nine—when her main objective was of such a bloody nature, but Kalena couldn't

help it. She hoped Ridge would not make a scene in front of the others, even if he was surprised. Pride

was a definite burden at times, and Kalena knew she had her full measure of it.

Ridge looked up as if sensing the anxiety she was experiencing and Kalena held her breath. Abruptly, he

nodded once and refolded the contract.

"It's about time you got here," he said calmly. "Let's go someplace where we can discuss our business in

private."

Kalena let go of the breath she had been holding and smiled brilliantly, aware of Arrisa's startled surprise

and Hotch's thunderstruck expression. The older man practically sputtered in his haste to speak.

"Now just one minute, Fire Whip. I don't know what this is all about, but you can't just go racing off. I

must have the information I need to finish this report for Quintel."

"I'll give you the information later." Ridge glanced at Kalena. "This, too, is Quintets business, and I

promise you it's more important than the report on the bandits operating in theTalonPass. Besides, as of

five days ago the bandits have ceased their raiding activities. Quintel knows that. I told him as soon as I

got back from the pass. Your report is old news."

"But, Ridge ..."

Ridge ignored the clerk and Arrisa as he moved toward Kalena with a sleek stride that was deceptively

balanced. Kalena knew instinctively it was a fighter's stride. Before she could say farewell to Arrisa,

Kalena found herself being steered toward the wide staircase at the end of the hall.

"Well, Kalena," Ridge growled softly as they started down the stairs, "you aren't quite what I expected,

but I guess you'll have to do. Quintel always knows what he's doing, and if he's decided you're what I

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need on this trip, then he's probably right. Have you ever contracted out as a trade wife in the past?"

"No," she admitted, hitching her tunic up higher so that she could descend the stairs at his swift pace.

She really was going to have to get some new clothes. "My aunt doesn't approve of trade marriages."