Shields Lady (6 page)

            Sariana's eyes widened. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked in amazement. Gryph transferred his gaze back to the gardens. "The Shield class was created to deal with the prisma

ships. There haven't been any ships found for fifty years, so there hasn't been much need for the Shields' special talents lately. Fortunately, we're versatile. We've made ourselves useful in other areas. We excel at bandit hunting, for example. A useful craft as far as the other social classes are concerned."

            "But who makes these prisma crystal ships?"

            Gryph shrugged. "No one knows. They were here on Windarca when the First Generation arrived." "That's ridiculous," Sariana scoffed. "I've never heard of such a thing."

            "Only because your people didn't run into any of the ships on the eastern continent." "And there haven't been any such ships discovered on the western continent since the descendants of

The Serendipity and The Rendezvous rediscovered each other," Sariana concluded knowingly. "How very convenient. The legend lives on and no one has to provide any proof. Sounds like a typical western fairy tale to me."

            "You don't believe in legends?" Gryph sounded more amused than surprised. "I prefer to put my belief in balance sheets, checking accounts and taxes. Legends and ballads are for

children."

            "Maybe the right legend could make you change your mind," Gryph suggested softly. "I doubt it," she answered firmly. "But I can see that the legend of the crystal ships might serve a useful

purpose for your social class. The tales undoubtedly help ensure that the other classes show you some respect. The Avylyns tell me there aren't many of you Shields. Apparently your limited numbers enable you to keep your prices high. I always admire that sort of sound business planning."

            Gryph swung his head around to stare at her and Sariana wondered if she'd gone too far. Normally her quick tongue was an asset, but there were times around this man when she got the impression it could get her into trouble. She sat very still for a long moment, waiting for the glitter in his eyes to cool. The tension in the room was breathtaking.

            When Grypn spoke Sariana remembered to breathe again. "You have no idea of the risks you're running around me, do you?" he asked in a voice that was terrifyingly casual.

            The fury was fading rapidly from his eyes. Sariana recovered herself quickly and put the awkward moment behind her. She could handle this man. She could handle anyone from the west if she just put her mind to it. Cool intelligence always had the edge over extravagant emotional indulgence. She just had to concentrate on keeping calm and staying in charge. And talking fast.

            "I wasn't aware that I was taking any particular risks. I was simply making a business observation. And as for your legend about prisma crystal ships - "

"You don't believe it."

            "I'm afraid not." Sariana tapped one silvered nail on the desk top. "Have you, yourself, ever seen one?"

"No."

"I rest my case."

            "If the ships don't exist, how do you account for the existence of prisma?" Gryph asked softly.

            "I'm sure it's simply a natural, rather rare substance found here on the western continent," she told him loftily.

"And the prisma cutters?"

            "Probably a piece of technology left over from the days of the First Generation. A certain amount was salvaged from The Serendipity after the crash, just as some things were rescued from The Rendezvous. Both groups were fortunate. Without that minimal amount of technology and knowledge, especially medical knowledge, those first colonists would probably not have survived at all. Things were hard enough as it was from all accounts."

            "You think you've got an answer for everything, don't you?" Gryph asked. "Not for everything. Not yet. But just give me a little time," she tossed back smoothly.

"Time? Why should I give you time?"

            Without any warning Gryph got to his feet and crossed the white marble floor with long, sure strides until he was standing on the opposite side of the desk. He planted both hands, palms flat, on top of the polished surface and leaned forward to confront her.

            "I don't owe you time or anything else, Lady Sariana Dayne. Just the opposite. Because of that trick you played last night, you owe me. I'll give you a word of warning because I know for a fact you won't listen."

"What word of warning is that?" she retorted tightly.

            "I always collect what's owed to me."

            Adrenalin and awareness coursed through Sariana's system. She shot to her feet and opened her mouth to tell Gryph Chassyn what he could do with his warnings.

            But her words were never vocalized. Instead Sariana felt herself trapped as Gryph caught her face between two surprisingly rough, strong palms. An instant later his mouth covered hers in a kiss that shocked her to the toes of her soft leather slippers.

            Sariana had rarely been kissed and certainly never like that. For all her education and worldly upbringing, she had been a protected clan lady. In addition, the unrelenting pressures of the educational system back in Rendezvous had ensured that there was very little time left to students for such frivolities as sexual experimentation.

            The one year of her life that might have been considered free was this past year. But during the whole time she had been in Serendipity Sariana had felt like a stranger in a strange land. She had preferred to feel that way. The last thing she had wanted to do was engage in a sexual relationship with one of the locals. She wanted nothing that would tie her to the west, even temporarily. Besides, she had her standards.

            The only man she had even begun to consider in a faintly romantic light was halfway across town waiting for her to join him for lunch. And it was a fact that Etion Rakken had never had the unmitigated gall to kiss her in this manner.

            Gryph's embrace was rough, hungry and passionate. It was also astonishingly arrogant and forceful, as if he were stealing something he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to get by asking.

            It was as if he were staking a claim.

            The kiss, Sariana knew somewhere in the depths of her being, was meant to be a small, symbolic act of masculine aggression. And when Gryph boldly parted her lips and thrust his tongue briefly and forcefully into the soft, intimate warmth of her mouth, she knew it was symbolic of the more intimate act

of sex as well. Lack of personal experience in such matters did not imply lack of knowledge.

            Sariana tried to jerk free of the embrace but something was happening to her, something she did not understand.

            A waterfall of sensation was suddenly pouring over her, leaving her dazed and vaguely frantic. She did not recognize some of these emotions. They were oddly alien, as if they came from someone else. Then she realized abruptly why they seemed so strange. These emotions were masculine, not feminine.

            There was hunger, irritation, need, aggression, passion, arrogance and, swamping all the others, sheer, unadulterated male possessiveness.

            It was impossible, Sariana thought desperately. She was imagining things. Nevertheless she had the disorienting feeling that she was actually tapping into some of Gryph's feelings. She raised her hands and pushed futilely against his shoulders. He held the kiss a few seconds longer, just long enough to let her know that she could not force him to halt the embrace. It would end when he wanted it to end.

            And then, without any warning, it was over. Sariana was set free as abruptly as she had been taken captive. She caught hold of the edge of the desk for balance and stared at Gryph. She was far more shaken than she wanted to admit. She hastily used the only defense she had, her quick tongue.

            "I'm sure you already know your manners are utteriy abominable," Sariana managed with a smooth sarcasm that she hoped masked her inner turmoil and rage. "So I won't bother to give you a lecture about them. I doubt if you're capable of learning much on the subject of manners, anyway. I have it on good authority that you were raised on the frontier, far from proper society. You'll be interested to know your lack of breeding shows. And because you are ill-bred, you probably don't mind that it shows." She-turned away to open a section of the desk. "You might not believe it, but I do have better things to do this morning than fight off the advances of an over-priced mercenary whose social class is obviously disintegrating even as we speak. Please leave."

There was a stunned silence from behind her. Gryph didn't move.

            "We have a lot more to discuss," he finally got out. His voice sounded surprisingly thick and ragged. "We have nothing more to discuss." She kept her rigid back to him as she riffled the papers in front of

her. "If you have accepted a contract to recover the missing cutter, as you claim you have, I would appreciate it if you would get started on the project. As I mentioned last night, complete secrecy is required for the sake of the clan. Your cover story is that you have been hired by the Avylyns to ensure the safety of their jewelry collection on the night of their annual costume ball. Your presence in the household will appear normal until then. It will be expected that you need to make proper security arrangements. After the ball, if you still haven't found the cutter, we will need to invent another cover story. Or find another Shield."

"Lady Sariana, we have to talk," Gryph said heavily.

            She whirled to face him. "I do hope that in the matter of secrecy you can be trusted." He stared at her as if she had gone crazy, " I'm a Shield. Don't you know what that means? My word

is better than prisma."

            "One hopes that, while you may not have a decent set of manners, you do have some business ethics. You do, after all, belong to some sort of accepted social class, even if that class does choose to reside on the frontier for the most part. You are not a complete outlaw. Now, I have work to do. Please leave."

            "Lady, if you think you can just casually toss me out of your office like this, I've got news for you." Whatever Gryph would have said next was lost as the door to Sariana's office opened again to admit

Indina Avylyn. She came into the room like a ship in full sail, her towering hairdo barely clearing the door.

            "Oh, here you are, Sariana," she said in tones of tremendous relief. "I've been looking for you. I have the menus for the food we will be serving for the costume ball. Now I know I have specified some rather expensive items, but I've already explained that this is one area in which the Avylyns must not stint. The Clan has been giving this ball for nearly seventy years. People expect the best from us. If we cut comers this year they will suspect that all is not well with us. We mustn't allow that to happen." She stopped short as she realized someone else was in the room. Mild alarm dashed some of the enthusiasm from her eyes. "Lord Chassyn. The luck of the day to you, sir. Please pardon me if I'm intruding on a business conference, but this is terribly important. I must have Sariana's approval of these expenses."

            "Luck to you. Lady Avylyn," Gryph said. He inclined his head with a graceful degree of polish that belied the accusations Sariana had just made concerning his manners. "I understand the importance of your situation. Sariana and I can continue our discussion after she's looked at your menus."

            Sariana stabbed at the mechanism that opened a complete section of the black stone desk. "I'm afraid Sariana is going to be unavailable for any further discussions of any sort this morning. I have a business appointment. Lady Avylyn, I will be happy to approve your menus this afternoon, Lord Chassyn," she added with a mocking emphasis on the title, "I'm sure you'll understand if I dash off. Pressing business I'm afraid."

Sariana practically fled from the room.

            Gryph gazed thoughtfully at the empty doorway. "Pressing business?" "Oh, she probably has an appointment with her friend at the bank," indina Avylyn explained.

"She has a friend in banking? A male friend?"

            "Etion Rakken," Indina said hurriedly as she gathered up her menus. "He's also from Rendezvous. Came over a number of years ago and never went back. I think he and Sariana feel they must cling to each other white they reside here in the west. There are so few people from the eastern continent who actually live here, you know. Perfectly natural that Sariana and Etion should stick together. Sariana is so lonely. She hides it well, of course. You know how those easterners are about showing emotion. But we all know she's homesick. Etion always has a cheering effect on her, though. She'll be fine this afternoon after she's had lunch with him. You'll see."

            Gryph could still taste Sariana's mouth. His body was still pulsing painfully with the instant response he had experienced when he'd caught hold of her and kissed her. For a moment during the embrace he had known without a doubt that he had touched her in ways that were not just physical in nature. And she had responded.

Shieldmate.

            He was certain of that now. He had found a potential Shieldmate. A woman he could make his true wife. A woman who could give him a son. The knowledge dazed him. The thought of her going off to spend the warm, lazy morning with another man sent a rush of frustrated heat and rage through his veins.

            The realization that the other male was undoubtedly far more socially acceptable to Sariana than Gryph would ever be was enough to ruin the rest of the day for him.

Chapter 3

            Two days later, Sariana left for another engagement with Etion Rakken, This time she was meeting him for late morning tea. Such outings were always welcomed by her. Lately, however, with the pressures of dealing with the Shield, the Avylyns' upcoming ball, as well as the demands of her normal schedule, Sariana was more grateful than ever for the brief moments of escape.