Rital of Proof (6 page)

Despite his wishes, she knew that the Duchene would eventually accept a bed price for him. A man of his beauty, wealth, and family position would be fastened. It was the way of the world and a man's lot in life.

Actually, she was amazed he was still on the link circuit. He was a great asset to the Reynard family, in a sense, he was their greatest asset. The alliance he would make would seal their fortune and well-being for generations.

And guarantee the continuation of the Duchene's line—in blood, if not in name.

"What do you seek in life, Jorlan Reynard?" She moved closer to him, letting her lips come very close to his ear. His dark hair shifted slightly with the cool breeze of night and the sultry whisper of her breath. His eyes, those incredible eyes, changed focus to gaze down at her.

Under the planetlight of Arkeus, the unique aqua color—so like the waters of Forus—shone with hidden lights and depth. Hidden intelligence. Hidden wildness.

He exhaled lightly. "I seek the monastery of my spirit, Marquelle."

"What is that?" Her mouth now barely brushed his ear, a light touch of velvet skin against lips, that somehow muddled her. Blood pulsed through her entire body, rebounding to her limbs.

Surprised, she paused a moment. Was she having some kind of abnormal reaction to the hameeri liquor she had drunk earlier?

She glanced up at Jorian. No, not the hameeri. Whatever it was, he felt it, too. His eyes had closed and his nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. It was almost as if he were inhaling the experience itself. Bringing it deep inside himself to savor and treasure...

Surely she was misreading this!

Could he possibly be a Sensitive?
The thought slammed her. It might explain both their reactions. Her heart sped with the idea. If it was so, why was his family hiding it? Sensitives were worth a fortune in the negotiation stage of a fastening contract.

No sooner had the thought occurred, then the answer came. Jorlan did not willingly seek a name-giver. To appease him, temporarily, the doting Duchene might have agreed to keep his special nature hidden.

It was discovered centuries ago, that certain Forus males were born Sensitives. It was not known what caused it, but it was believed that it had to do with the waning and waxing of Forus on Arkeus and how it acted on those with higher-than-normal sensory abilities. Sensitives were naturally extremely intelligent and extremely passionate. They all seemed unnaturally affected by the rhythms of Forus.

So far, that was the only connection their researchers could come up with. Sensitives heard more, saw more, and felt more. Sometimes, in rare cases, they could convey a small sense of their experience to their partner. They were said to be exquisite lovers. In fact, those not of the noble houses usually became pleasurers. Sensitives in general were extremely rare; Sensitives from royal houses were almost unheard of.

She looked at him, stunned. She was not convinced he was not a Santorini. What if he was
both!
If it was true, he would be the only one known...

She reined in her thoughts. While a Sensitive's disposition seemed to favor the selection of Santorinis, the combination had never been viable. There had been only two male babes ever born with both characteristics and neither of them had survived his weaning stage. It was believed they could not withstand the sensory overload. Her imagination was running away with her.

But she would wager he was a Sensitive.

Of course, no one would have discovered his secret till now—she was positive she was the first woman to touch him with a lover's caress.

"Marquelle, you should know that I seek a destiny wherein I can know the full measure of my strength—not simply feel it resonate within me, but decide upon its fate. This is what dwells inside me and will not be silent."

She clasped his strong chin with her hand, turning him to face her more directly. "It is not considered becoming for a man to speak of such strong control. It is expected of a man that he will always defer to his mother or name-giver to decide what is right for him. Men must be cared for, for their own protection. It is not considered healthy for a man to have too many opinions."

"Do you believe that, Marquelle?" His low voice became husky as he bent toward her.

"What I believe is of no importance." Her lips covered his.

A small, rolling sound of pleasure escaped him. It reminded her of the growl of a fierce lexa beast when it resented the tameness that befell it when offered a balum fruit. The lexa could not resist the tempting fruit that grew high on branches, so far out of its reach. So, too, Jorlan Reynard seemed to resent yet revel in his reaction to the press of her mouth.

Once again, the odd shivering sensation assailed her.

It was him, she realized. The texture of him. And more.

The kiss was a powerful catalyst between them. He sighed hotly into her mouth. Green felt the awakening twitches skipping through his trained body. Despite his unorthodox persona, Jorlan had a reputation as a man of the strictest control. Yet with her he was battling himself.

She smiled slightly against the firm masculine lips, thoroughly enjoying his taste, and that she was the one unnerving him.

Did he even realize how precarious a situation he was in? With a few expert moves, she could break through every defense he thought he had.

But she would not do that. She would not go that far. Not just because of what he was—but because of
who
he was. Green discovered that she liked the Duchene's grandson. Very, very much.

"Open your lips more for me, Jorlan," she instructed against his mouth.

With a low moan, he did what she asked. Her tongue slipped sweetly into his mouth, dipping in to sample his nectar. The breath of his desire scorched into her throat, traveling deep inside her, filling her. She closed her eyes to further experience the sensation. To treasure this first, incredible tang of him.

His hands came up, lifting her hair. His fingers sank into the long strands, sliding into the abundant mass until his hands came together cupping the back of her head. Surprised at his uninhibited action, for men were generally compliant in these matters, especially untried men, she opened her eyes to observe him.

Deep in concentration of the sensations he was experiencing, Jorlan's eyes were closed. Long, spiky lashes made crescents on his cheekbones, shielding them in a way. A
beautiful mysterious shadow.
Green thought,
just like the man himself.

She slid her tongue over his. A ragged growl vibrated against her. He was completely submerged in the experience.

In the pleasure.

He was a Sensitive!

Green blinked at the astounding discovery. She glanced up at him only to discover that his eyes were now open and glittering down at her. A sizzling heat emanated from him.

"What?" he murmured low against her mouth, silken lips playing with the corner of her lips.

Does he know? Jorlan might have no idea that he is different from most other men.
She looked at the beautiful man before her, saw his fire and intelligence, and knew he was not simply different—he was unique.

The Top Slice might not know that he was a Sensitive, but his other stellar attributes were readily observable—which explained the never-ending round of offers for him.

What a pity she did not want a name-bearer. She sighed. With Claudine D'anbere causing her no end of trouble and several key issues coming before the Septibunal, she could not even consider such a thing.

Regretfully, she released him.

He gave her a quizzical look that was slightly wounded. For all of his mature disposition, he had not yet begun to master the art of concealing his raw emotions. In the jaded society they lived in, Green thought the trait a particularly charming one.

Somehow, she thought it a part of Jorlan. He would never shroud his true emotions. The ones that burned deeply inside him. The bold trait might cause him trouble in the future.

He would need an exceptionally strong name-giver.
Someone who could protect him from the vicious judgments of the Slice while at the same time allow him to experience the high emotions he needed to channel. Her shoulders dropped slightly. There were very few women in the Select Quarter who would allow him that kind of freedom.

"Do you never want to experience love, Jorlan?" His hand came up and stroked the side of her face. The aqua eyes softened to a shade she had never seen before on a human. But she had seen it echoed in the early mornings of Forus as the mist rose off the waters. It took her breath away.

"Do you offer me love. Green?" he asked in the smoothest of tones.

It took Green an instant to realize that his heady senses were getting out of hand. He was igniting them both and he was also deliberately playing with the flame. For his sake, she needed to douse his fire.

She observed him coolly through lowered lids. "What if I was?"

His lips teased at her mouth, sipping at her bottom lip with an innate talent. "I do not wish to be a name-bearer. I have told you this."

"Who said anything about being a name-bearer?" she whispered back.

She knew the exact instant the insinuating remark registered on his passion-drugged brain. Her offer was highly insulting to a man of noble birth. She might as well have slapped him.

At his stunned look, she rose from the bench and returned to the salon.

And yet her thoughts remained back with him.

Green was shocked to discover that she
did
want him.

Really wanted him.

No other woman would be able to handle and release him at the same time. Jorlan Reynard would be the perfect father for her heir.

But right now she did not need a troublesome veil to contend with, no matter how alluring his qualities. She needed to focus on her house—not her bed. Besides, she still had her pleasurer. River, who more than took care of all of her needs.

Yet the simple sweet embrace of Jorlan affected her more than anything she had ever experienced with River.

She decided to leave the soiree, and, regretfully, the compelling Jorlan.

Somehow on the ride home in the Kloo-driven coach, she could not get him out of her mind. The idea of making Jorlan her name-bearer settled firmly in her mind and would not leave.

With the swift decisiveness she was known for in the House of She-Lords, she instantly changed her mind and decided she would make an offer for him.

In time.

He would be the one she fastened.

After all of these years of being a woman-about-town, she would finally take a name-bearer. The Slice would be gleefully shocked with the delicious bus-bit. The kloobroth would spread quickly.

Who would have thought that, with all of the young men vying for her attention and the myriad of invitations from fathers beseeching her to call, she would choose a most reluctant veil, who in all probability was going to object vehemently to the idea?

It was not going to be an easy task.

Still, Jorlan could not hide his reaction to her. The man wanted her. She would begin by slowly encouraging him without him even realizing it. The veil was keen to experiment—she would give him what he wanted. Just not in the way he expected.

In time, he would eventually come to her on his own. His passion was the key.

In surrendering to it, he would surrender to himself. She hoped.

Chapter Three

The Reynard estate was vast.

It bespoke of countless generations of Duchenes, rich in heritage and wealth. Jorlan's ancestresses went back to an Origin officer, of course.

And not just any officer.

Captain Cybella Reynard was considered to have been the Founder of their civilization. How ironic that her progenitor son eschewed the very foundation she had set in motion.

Although most of the prehistory of Originpoint was lost, or kept sealed in dusty vid-tomes, it was known that no living males had accompanied the all-female crew on the
NEOFEM's
maiden (and only) voyage across the dark reaches of space so long ago.

The innate aggressiveness of the male and his tendency to revert to basic action was not deemed conducive to a long, dangerous trip across space.

Presumably, the female crew had not taken name-bearers, for no name-bearers were allowed on board. Green had often wondered about that condition, thinking it odd—but as it was over a millennium ago, who could say what had really occurred? Perhaps they reasoned that the journey would be less disruptive to the women aboard without males being present.

In all likelihood, the robust female crew might very well have been distracted by them. Who knows how many fights would have broken out over bidding rights?

What was known was that soon after Landing Day—when a secured encampment had been set up and the settlers realized just how welcoming Forus was going to be—they were able to impregnate themselves with sample specimens they had brought with them. Some women were even surrogates for introducing entirely new genetic material into the society gene pool.