Periphery (21 page)

She tried to make herself think about Arment instead. The planet had joined the Confederation planets about six Earth years back, after the Lyrizi lost the war. The Armentines had signed an agreement that gave the Confederation’s Interstellar Navy an airtight monopoly on selerinite. Since the mineral was essential for armoring starships, there had been one hell of a party in the Admiralty Offices the day the agreement was signed. After all, they’d only had to win an unwinnable war to do it.

But perhaps it hadn’t been cause for universal rejoicing on Arment. Still, why send in a Lyrizi to deal with the problem? Then she thought about the way Isandre was able to change her appearance and shivered. Spy or assassin or both, she decided. She wondered why a Lyrizi would choose to work for the Confederation, then glanced at the comm clock and shrugged. Maybe she’d just have to ask the Hight herself after dinner. Bridget gave her uniform one last tug and stepped out briskly, heading toward the dining hall.

Isandre, not a patch of green skin in sight, was already seated with the officers when she got there. She was telling them some tale that had even the somber Rodríguez hiding a smile. The rest of the diplomatic team was sitting at the adjacent table and Bridget went to welcome them aboard before squaring her shoulders and walking to her own seat.

The officers all noticed her at the same time, standing to attention in the blink of an eye. Hight Isandre remained seated, her narrow lips quirked upwards in a slightly mocking smile. “Should I stand too, Captain? I know so little of shipboard etiquette.”

“At ease!” Bridget growled. “I trust you find your quarters comfortable?” Since the words were accompanied by a fierce glare, they didn’t sound as welcoming as they should have and even the normally oblivious junior officers gave her startled looks. Damn, damn, damn. She forced herself to sound conciliatory. “And no, you needn’t stand when I come to the table. It’s part of naval discipline and civilians are exempted.”

“I do hope I’m not exempted from all the discipline that you impose on the crew, Captain. I wouldn’t want any…special privileges.” Her amber eyes burned into Bridget’s, sending a line of heat up her thighs that made her breath catch in her throat.

She gasped, too startled to even frown at the smothered giggles. Even Rodríguez had to ask her the same question twice before she noticed. After that, she forced herself to be all ship’s captain, all polite conversation and orders while she carefully avoided the Hight’s eyes. She didn’t look directly at the ambassador until the other officers had risen to return to their posts or their beds. Even then it was only to say, “So what will you be doing on Arment, Hight?”

“Call me Isandre, please. We will be establishing the new embassy of course. What did you think? You and your able crew will assist us in any way that we require, short of endangering Arment’s agreement with the Confederation. More than that, I am not at liberty to say, Captain.” She tilted up her mug to swallow the last of her drink before she met Bridget’s eyes.

“If I’m not to endanger anything, our skins included, I’ll need more to go on, Hight.” It was easier now to ignore the effect that Isandre had on her earlier. After all, how could she trust the promise in the amber eyes of a spy?

“There is such a thing as too much knowledge, Captain.” Isandre’s voice had a cooler quality to it now.

Elshabet had been able to do that too, run hot and cold until Bridget’s head swam with her. The Captain swallowed her memories and matched her tone with effort. “In my experience, Madam, more knowledge is always better than less. You don’t appear to be a standard Diplomatic Team so I’d like to know what role my crew and I will be playing in your mission. Just the general facts, Hight. None of the secrets.” For now. She sat back and waited, forcing her face not to display her thoughts.

Isandre curved her full lips in a smile that made Bridget’s stomach revolve like she was in freefall. “Maybe. You’ll need to convince me of your discretion first, Captain.” She raised one finger to run it around the low neckline of her silky gown, tugging it slowly down so that Bridget’s eyes followed it. Green skin gleamed in the hollow between her breasts and Bridget squirmed in her chair despite her efforts at self-control.

She dragged her gaze upward from those dangerous depths to find Isandre watching her with an expression of quiet amusement. It filled her with a burst of pure annoyance. “I believe my record speaks for itself, Ambassador. Now if you have nothing more to tell me, I have a ship to run.” She stood and seized the trays, determined now to be rid of her unwelcome companion as soon as possible.

Isandre curled a long-fingered hand around her wrist, moving at a speed that nearly made her drop the trays. “Well, perhaps I can tell you a bit more, Captain. But not here.” Her gesture took in rest of the dining hall.

Bridget nodded and twisted her wrist free. “My quarters, then. Follow me, please.” She spun on her heel to dump the trays in the recyc shoot then left the dining hall without looking behind her. Her wrist still burned where Isandre had seized it but she was damned if she’d let that show. She’d been obvious enough at dinner. Groaning inwardly, she imagined the gossip spreading through the ship. And floggings are still banned. Pity. Her lips twisted in a small reluctant smile at the thought.

Isandre’s silken skirts rustled as she moved, rubbing Bridget’s nerves raw. At the same time the sound sent a wave of heat up her thighs. She imagined the feel of those skirts under her fingertips, imagined lifting them slowly higher up green-skinned thighs. Stop it, O’Halloran. She began to run through the ship startup drills, lists of minerals, anything to avoid thinking the thoughts that held her imagination captive.

Her quarters suddenly seemed too close to the dining hall. When the door closed behind Isandre, Bridget lunged inside to put her desk between her guest and herself. “Please be seated, Hight.” She gestured at the chair on the other side of the desk.

Isandre ignored the suggestion and walked gracefully over to lean against her side of the desk. Bridget retreated a little but stopped when she saw the smile light those amber eyes. Isandre leaned forward, dropping her hand onto the arms of the chair so that her face was inches from Bridget’s own. “I’ll give you what information I can, Captain, but first you’ll have to give me something in return.”

“And what’s that, Hight?” Bridget couldn’t breathe without inhaling her scent, couldn’t move without touching her. Beneath her uniform, she could feel a line of moisture trickle down between her thighs, feel her nipples harden under her jacket. She was breathing faster now, barely keeping her hands from either pulling Isandre still closer or shoving her aside and running from the room.

“Kiss me.” Isandre leaned forward to suit her actions to her words. Bridget flinched away and Isandre wrapped a wiry arm around her neck, holding her still. Her lips were warm and slightly moist against Bridget’s own as she tentatively kissed her back. Isandre pulled away, allowing her skin to flush green with the movement. “Like you mean it or I won’t tell you a thing.”

Bridget stared back at her for a long moment. Her body ached and pleaded for release and she trembled with the effort it took not to reach out to this woman. But somewhere in those amber eyes lurked a shadow of Elshabet. “Are you afraid of me, Captain?’ Isandre breathed, smiling sweetly, her face still far too close. “You won the war for your people and I gave my allegiance to your Confederation so what do you have to fear?”

A strangled noise burst from Bridget’s throat. Only someone listening for it would have heard it as a name. Isandre’s smile grew less sweet. “Ah, Commander Elshabet. She was an excellent military commander, but weak and foolish in the matters of the heart. I believe you know this already, Captain. Now she is long gone and I am here and I want to discover for myself why she threw her war away for you. I can only imagine that you are very, very special.” She rested one hand on the armrest, pressing down on Bridget’s hand. With the other, she stroked Bridget’s cheek, sending shuddering waves through her entire body.

“And then what? You destroy me and my ship in revenge for Elshabet and the war the Lyrizi lost?” Her voice trembled a little but her body felt frozen, just like it had in her dream.

“So many fears and so little trust, Captain. It makes me a little sad. Is that what you would do in my place, Captain?” The deft green fingers found the buttons on Bridget’s uniform and began undoing them one by one. “Does it occur to you that I thought the Lyrizi were wrong and that I want only to see an end to the war? That I seek an alliance between our people? No, I can see that it doesn’t. Am I so like Elshabet, Captain? Or is it that you are too like her yourself?”

Bridget flinched and Isandre kissed her again, harder this time, evergreen lips engulfing her own. Her lips parted despite herself, letting Isandre’s tongue slip between them and into her mouth. Her jacket was open and Isandre was unbuttoning the shirt beneath it now but Bridget stayed frozen until those cool green fingers found her breast. Then with a desperate effort, she shoved Isandre away, gasping for breath.

The two stared at each other, amber eyes looking into blue. Then Isandre knelt between her legs, dropping her mouth onto Bridget’s nipple where it poked through the thin fabric of her shirt. Bridget groaned, a sound torn from her aching depths and reached for Isandre, past all that sense and experience could warn her against.

She stood, pulling Isandre to her with a hard kiss that made the latter gasp. She molded the other woman to her as she pushed her tongue between Isandre’s lips, taking possession of her mouth. Isandre’s hands were in her hair, then on her hips. She shoved her thigh between the Hight’s legs, pushing her back so she leaned against the wall. Then she began trailing kisses down Isandre’s jaw, licking her way down her neck.

She smiled to hear the hissed intake of the Hight’s breath and paused with her lips against her neck to feel the rapid tattoo of her pulse. The skin beneath her lips flushed darker green and she bit it sharply, making the other woman arch her back to pull away a little. Then Isandre moaned as she ran her tongue slowly back up to her delectable mouth with its dark green lips.

“At this rate, Captain, I’ll tell you almost anything you want to know,” Isandre murmured when they paused for breath. Her hands were under Bridget’s shirt now, caressing and kneading her skin. Bridget tugged her jacket off and tossed it aside, then knelt before the other woman. She kissed Isandre’s thighs through the silk of the skirt as she began to slowly run her hands under the skirt and up her legs.

Isandre whimpered as the Captain’s lips gently touched her sex through the fabric. Bridget could smell her desire, sweet and musky, as it filtered through the silk. She had the skirt raised to her upper thighs now, displaying Isandre’s green skin and the triangle of green fur that glistened invitingly in the cabin’s light. “Please Captain… Bridget, can we move to the bed?” Isandre’s voice was husky, pleading.

“No.” Bridget buried her mouth between Isandre’s legs, as if the end to guilt lay at the tip of her tongue. Isandre’s taste was both sharper and sweeter than Elshabet’s and she breathed deep, pulling in Isandre’s scent until it filled her lungs. Lines of moisture ran down Isandre’s thighs now as Bridget tasted her, licking firmly against her hardened clit until Isandre gave a tiny wail of pure need.

Bracing one hand against Isandre’s hip to steady her, Bridget slipped the other between her legs, driving her fingers up inside the inviting wetness. Isandre’s moans were coming faster and Bridget pushed harder, her tongue moving in compact circles over Isandre’s clit until she could feel her thighs shake. Isandre came with a cry, arching her back against the wall, thighs trembling so much that Bridget had to catch her before she fell. Then she leaned, gasping against the wall, her fingers buried in Bridget’s short hair.

“Now, Hight, I believe there was something you wanted to tell me?” Bridget managed not to grin around the words as she stood up, but only just.

Isandre twined herself around her neck, pressing close. “I’m only a diplomat, Captain,” Isandre murmured breathlessly against her throat. “You have such a suspicious mind.”

Rodríguez’s voice on the comm cut short whatever else Isandre was going to say. “Eight bells, Captain.” Bridget silently cursed her second in command. Isandre pulled away but not before Bridget seized her for a final fierce kiss.

“Captain?” Rodríguez asked from the comm.

Bridget growled but turned away to answer. “On deck shortly, Lieutenant. Thank you.” There was a hiss of the door behind her and when she turned, Isandre was gone. She was surprised to find that she was a little relieved despite the ache between her legs. But there wasn’t time to analyze the feeling, not now, so she cleaned up in the washbasin and adjusted her uniform before heading to her post.

Still, it took nearly all her self-control not to dwell on Isandre; on the soft texture of green skin beneath her fingers, on the taste of her in her mouth. Instead, she gave orders she had no memory of moments after she’d issued them. Isandre was nowhere to be seen, not even at meals. Her assistant told Bridget that she chose to eat in her quarters while she studied the vids on Arment. Bridget nodded in acknowledgement and did not seek her out. The day dragged though, and when she returned to her quarters to sleep, it did not come.

Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer and got up to roam the corridors quietly. Try though she might to prevent it, her feet took her closer and closer to the guest quarters. Eventually she found herself in front of the door to Isandre’s quarters and stopped to rest her head on the familiar cool metal.

Selerinite. It was so very precious that to lose it meant the end of all that Bridget knew. Her brain spun with questions, doubts, fears. What if Isandre really was an agent for the Lyrizi? What if she was going to Arment to avenge their losses? If so, then Bridget was following in Elshabet’s footsteps. She remembered how she had gone to the Lyrizi with a similar story and offered her services as a double agent. Her military background led them to place her on Elshabet’s ship and her own desires led her to the Captain’s bed. Was this now so very different?