SurrendersMischief (3 page)

Damn his father. Ten years after his death, the women still
couldn’t bring themselves to trust a de Vares. Not even one who had abolished
the practice of sovereign’s right to punish. “I will be in the courtyard.” The
relief on her face as she slipped by him gave Darias pause. Maybe Bryta was too
gentle. The woman had no defenses, and he’d hate to see her injured in any
fashion. He touched again the bruise on his cheek. No, the slave had reacted
out of panic. Since that moment in her ship, she hadn’t shown the least sign of
violence. Just to be sure, though, he’d have servants look in on them
frequently. At least at first. It wouldn’t take long for her to settle.
Especially with Gaith’s woman guiding her. If anyone could tame the woman’s
rough edges, it was gentle Bryta.

* * * * *

The wad of silk smacked the man across the face when he
walked into the bedchamber that evening. Riana refused to feel guilt when, the
sorry excuse for a tunic in one hand, he touched the other to the corner of his
eye where that ridiculous gilt tassel adorning the high collar had caught him a
stinging blow. She lifted her chin and stood her ground when he advanced, one
slow step at a time.

He wrapped a large paw around her neck, tipping her chin up
with his thumb. The antique gold of his eyes glittered.

Anger?

The son of a bitch should be afraid to close his eyes. Make
a slave of her, would he?

“Was last night’s lesson not enough? Are you so eager for
another?”

Despite her fury, a chill went through her at the soft
tones. She’d heard warmer sounds from the growls of a sabre-cat poised for
attack. Too bad her captor wasn’t on that primitive ice world so the two
predators could battle for supremacy. Though she had the uneasy suspicion that
the sabre-cat wouldn’t stand a chance. Fear, the same fear she’d been combating
since she awoke to his midnight voice, clogged her throat, making breathing
difficult. She fought back the same way she always did, the deeply ingrained
response too powerful to ignore.

She went on the offensive.

She took one step closer, until only a breath separated
them. This close, she was aware of his scent, of the strength in his long, lean
form. “What kind of world is this? You treat women as second-class citizens.
No, wait. Third class. Heck it’s worse than that. Women are non-people here.”
Surprise flitted through the antique-gold gaze. Riana pounced on it. “Oh yes,
Bryta explained a few things to me. The poor thing seemed to think it natural.”
She lowered her voice to keep it from shaking as outrage rushed in anew. It
sickened her to know that sweet, gentle Bryta was subject to the restrictions
and punishments she’d so matter-of-factly detailed. Like the
punishment
Riana had undergone last night. “What kind of man are you?”

The fine lines at the corners of his eyes tightened and the
skin across the high cheekbones drew tight. “One whose patience is fast
evaporating.”

“Hah! Patience, my ass. What need have you of patience when
you’re a man, and men make the rules on this benighted planet? The attitude
toward women is cruel, degrading and downright inhumane.” Something in his face
stopped her tirade. Oh shit. When would she ever learn to watch her mouth?
Self-preservation belatedly sinking in, Riana turned to run, or at least to put
some space between her and the man whose very stillness screamed danger.

She wasn’t fast enough.

One large hand clamped around her wrist like a manacle. His
voice, when he spoke, came from the deepest, darkest regions of space. A place
so cold, it’d singe a person’s flesh like the heart of a sun.

“You want to know cruel, degrading and inhumane? I’ll show
you.” He dragged Riana to the door, her heels digging in all the way.

“Look, can’t we talk about this? Maybe I spoke a little
hastily.” She was a merchant, for Zethra’s sake. Where the hell was her smooth
tongue when she needed it? But Riana had the sinking feeling that no amount of
fast- or smooth-talking would get her out of this spot. She’d pissed in her
chili this time. What the hell was chili anyway? And why the heck was she even
concerned with her granddaddy’s sayings and what they meant at a time like
this, she wondered with a touch of true hysteria. Zethra, she had to get hold
of herself.

Focus, Riana, focus.
There had to be a way out, there
always was. The thought of several past close calls had a steadying effect on
her nerves. Okay, she had a few rules of her own. And number one on that short
list was to forge ahead. To stop was to admit defeat and she’d be twice damned
if some barbarian on a backwater planet was going to defeat her.

She stumbled as he yanked on her arm, silently demanding she
keep up with his much longer stride. Heat scorched her cheeks as, shackled like
a recalcitrant child, he pulled her past two grinning warriors. Barbarians,
every damn one of them. Those grins would soon slide off their faces if she had
that nifty little gizmo from planet Bereani. Not that she’d use it to kill
them. Well, maybe… No, she decided, feeling righteous, she’d just use it to put
them on their asses for a couple of hours.

He hauled her down another long corridor, past several doors
that looked as if they’d been closed for years. A chill that was more than the
cold coming off the thick stone walls went through her. The cold, the sense of
dankness, the stretch of hallway lined with a multitude of doors with tiny
grates for windows, the large, old-fashioned locks on the doors—especially the
locks—reminded her eerily of a dungeon.

Nonsense, she told herself bracingly. Dungeons were on the
lower levels of a monstrosity such as this keep, not one level below the
ruler’s quarters. It was just the atmosphere of obviously long unuse giving her
the creeps. And her imagination. Imagination in a trader was not always a good
thing.

He stopped before one door offset from the others. Without
loosening his grip on her, he wrapped his other hand around the huge iron ring that
served as a handle. With a reluctant groan, the thick door opened.

Riana stepped cautiously into the shadowed room without
being told. The once-luxurious moonsilks and cushions couldn’t hide the fact
the space was small and cramped. Not a dungeon, then. Curious, she took another
step inside, barely noticing Darias had released her wrist. Her breath caught
in her throat as a miasma of pain, humiliation and hopelessness beat at her.
Instinctively she stepped back, only to come up against Darias’ hard body.

“What is this place?” The words scraped out of a throat raw
with the power of the old emotions.

“The women’s cells.”

Cold, unemotional, almost detached. Riana put her arms
around her waist and hugged. “They’ve been deserted for a long time.” She
rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, trying to instill some warmth. She
wanted to turn, to see if his face matched his tone, but couldn’t quite bring
herself to do so.

“A little over ten years.”

Something buried deep in the words made her turn. Just as she
feared, his expression was as cold and remote as his voice. But there was an
undercurrent, a tension, that produced a funny little ache right in the center
of her chest and made her wish she could forget her anger at him. She shook it
off. So what if this place brought back bad memories for him, it wasn’t doing
much for her state of mind right now, either.

“Why’d you bring me here? So you could ‘punish’ me in
private?”

The full force of his attention centered on her. “Keep
pushing and I won’t bother to make it private.”

She believed him, but she still couldn’t stop the rash words
from pouring out of her mouth. “So how many women have you punished here?”

“One.”

It was a solid blow to the chest. For a second, she couldn’t
breathe, couldn’t even think. And then fury rushed in, a fury that was
inexplicably mingled with hurt. “You bastard. You kept a woman here, and now
you think to keep me here? Did you enslave her as you enslaved me?”

“Unlike you, Cireena knew her place. I brought you here to
show you I am not an unreasonable man. That life could be pleasant if you would
conform. My mistake. Maybe, instead, I should show you your place.” He reached
for her.

The moment he touched her, she knew this encounter was
different from last night. There had been a distance then in every slow brush
of his fingers against her most intimate places, a planned quality that was now
absent. His hands closed over her shoulders. He pulled her closer.

Determined that this time she wouldn’t be the victim, Riana
wound her arms around his neck. She felt him start, and smiled. No, this
wouldn’t be like last night where he remained in total control while she had
none. She’d make damn sure of it.

She nipped his ear. Hard.

A low, dark sound emanated from deep in his throat. He
tangled his fist in her hair, pulled her head back. “You live dangerously.”

A slow lift curled the corner of her mouth. She slid her
hands down his chest, shaping bone and muscle with exquisite care. The antique
gold of his eyes darkened, and the already harsh planes of his face tautened,
became almost savage as she went lower. Cupped the fierce erection pushing at
the leather breeches.

“This says otherwise.”

Immediately, she knew she’d erred. Desire drained out of his
expression and he shoved her away. Riana wanted to curse at the withdrawal.
Despite her fury with him, despite last night, she sensed his bringing her here
was important somehow. And now she’d ruined it.

She did curse when he left without a word. The sound of the
key turning in the old-fashioned lock hovered mockingly on the air.

Chapter Three

Riana opened the door to his office and saw Darias’ dark
head bent over some papers he had spread out on his desk. Good. She’d finally
run the
vseal
to ground. After last night spent in that horrid cell,
kept company only by the ghosts of women long gone—very unhappy women, she
might add—he owed her a few explanations. She shuddered. Oh, she didn’t mean
actual ghosts, but the rage, the hurt, the sadness of generations of women had
permeated the faded elegance and stone walls of the women’s quarters. Sleeping
had been out of the question.

She slipped inside and locked the door behind her.

Let him try to run now.

Last night had, in some indefinable way, changed things.
She’d had plenty of time to think, locked in that cell. But even after hours of
contemplation, she was no closer to an answer. No closer to understanding why
he’d really hauled her down there in the first place. All she knew was that
with break of dawn and Bryta coming to set her free, Darias was no longer just
her barbaric captor but a man with many, complex layers.

Not that he seemed in a hurry to explain any of those layers
to her.

She narrowed her eyes. She’d swear he was avoiding her. In
fact, she was certain of it. How else to account for him leaving a room mere
moments before she entered? She’d chased him all over this blasted keep for
hours. Not that she was complaining about her freedom of movement, mind. She
just didn’t understand it.

And Riana needed to understand the world around her, it was
the only way to maintain an edge.

She saw him stiffen at the faint click of the lock, but he
didn’t lift his head. Curious as to what could hold his attention so strongly,
she moved closer. Looking over his shoulder, she saw it was an official request
to open trade negotiations from a country-state called Far Islands. The trader
in her coming to the fore, she skimmed the document.

“Wow, they want trade with you pretty bad. What’s the
catch?”

Darias straightened in his chair, a remote expression on his
face. “‘The ‘catch’, as you call it, is irrelevant. Nexar will not deal with
Far Islands.”

“Is the offer a trick then? Do they produce inferior goods?”
Riana settled her hip on the edge of the huge, darkly gleaming desk, her
grievances forgotten for the moment. Trading was as necessary to her as food.
More, maybe. “Will they not honor a contract?” Stupid move if that was the
case. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Darias would not hesitate to punish
such a transgression.

“No, they produce high-quality goods.”

Damn, she wished she could tell what he was thinking, but
there was a barrier in his eyes that kept her from even guessing. “So what is
it then? Nexar needs trade. Heck, I wasn’t awake for more than ten minutes
before I learned of the drought and the strain it’s put on the people and the
economy.” Heat rose up from the tops of her breasts and spread to her cheeks.
She didn’t need a mirror to know she was turning red. Riana hurried on, hoping
to divert his attention from mention of her capture. “Don’t you believe they’ll
reciprocate? Put it in the contract.”

Very deliberately, he picked up the letter on its thick
paper. “We will not trade with them.” He ripped the paper in half then ripped
it again before tossing it in the trash. “We’ll maintain what trade we have
with Trinearia.”

Riana was stunned at the finality in his tone. The very
thought of cutting herself off from a source of potential goods or market went
against every belief she held. She could only think of one reason for his
attitude. “Are you at war with them?”

“No.”

Stumped, she stared at him. “But you need them. At least as
a potential market. I’ve heard the talk. Nexar is in trouble. It’s obvious that
trade with Trinearia—”

“Enough. It’s of no concern of yours.”

“But it’s stupid.” Zethra, if she had to crash on a planet,
why did it have to be this backwater, backward world that couldn’t tell its ass
from a nebula?

“I said enough.”

“Look, I know on this world women are considered dumber than
a rock, but I’m a trader—”

“You had one ship—and couldn’t keep that. A warrior would
never have lost his ship. That doesn’t make you a trader, it makes you lucky.”