“She’ll grow accustomed to our ways.” Cantor waited for another glimpse and was rewarded for his patience with the sight of her sweet profile. Her olive skin perfectly suited the dark hair that framed a lovely face—a short, straight forehead, a narrow, elegant nose, and full, bowed lips above a round chin. Physically she was charming, but it was her air of trepidation that made him impatient to greet her. Eager to soothe her nerves, while his body quickened. Again, the crowd intervened.
“There’s no doubt she’s a virgin,” Darak said dryly.
“That can be remedied in a night. I’m sure any one of our men would be up for the job.” A figure shifted and he saw the woman’s face from the front. Her mouth was wide, her lips lush and curved, the upper lip fuller then the lower. Her eyes were wide and almond shaped, rimmed with lush, dark lashes. She appeared so young, so fresh—so unlike the brazen creatures who assailed him morning, noon, and night. The picture that was emerging from each brief revelation intrigued him more.
“You’re going to have to talk to the men, because she doesn’t want their attentions.”
Cantor sighed in frustration when the crowd closed in again. “As I said, she’ll adjust soon enough.”
“The poor thing’s very timid.”
Cantor didn’t give a ballocks about the girl’s tender feelings. At the moment he was intrigued by the dark-haired woman, and felt the first stirring of predatory lust he’d experienced in months. He must meet the dark-haired beauty.
He stepped forward, pushing his way through the lively crowd. This one he’d have before the night was o’er.
“Uh, Cantor?” Darak said, his hand grabbing his forearm.
“Not now.” He’d found her again, and she was coming his way.
Her supple little figure was well displayed by her revealing clothing. Strips of a silky, purple fabric bisected her chest, just covering her small, rounded breasts. More fabric formed a skirt that knotted at one hip. How he would love to tease the knot loose with his mouth as he reached beneath it to delve between her velvety petals.
Suddenly, a tall, broad figure completely blocked his view of the woman, and Cantor bit back an oath until he realized Mary Grogan strode toward him. She stopped in front of him, and the woman with the glossy black hair peeked around her shoulder.
Cantor smiled, captivated by her beauty.
The woman blinked, and then her sweet mouth curved into a grin.
Cantor’s breath caught. Up close, his gaze noted her large eyes were a warm, cognac-brown a man could drown in. Her sable hair fell to her waist, curling over her slender shoulders to frame her breasts.
His loins filled when he noted the hard, pointed nipples that poked against the sheer fabric of her halter. He could almost feel the soft velvet of the dark areolas against his tongue. Up close, he could now tell she was naked beneath the short skirt. Even more delightful, the sheer fabric clung momentarily to her pussy when she shifted, revealing that her woman’s lips were denuded of hair. To hell with tonight, he’d have her now.
“Nuh-uh! None of that,
Governor
.” Mary’s voice intruded. “This one’s a virgin. You need to take care of her—not pounce on her.”
Cantor heard her words as if from a distance. The woman with the beguiling smile stood like a rose amid a profusion of exotic, overblown blooms.
“Uh, Cantor?” Darak’s hand closed on his arm, tugging him back.
“Leave off.”
“But this is the girl I was telling you about.”
Cantor shook his head, and a slow, dawning realization hit him. A virgin? This vision was a virgin. Therefore an untouchable. He couldn’t take her if he planned to leave at the first opportunity. Stripping virgins of their…virginity, implied commitment in his mind.
Poised like a doe ready to flee at the first scent of danger, the woman stood still beneath his gaze. He realized he must be scowling for her smile slipped and her lovely, soft eyes grew wide.
“She’s a bit shy,” Mary said, her gaze challenging. “The antics of the rest of your crew and my women seem to unnerve her. I was hopin’ we might find a place for her, away from the others.”
“Until she acclimates,” Darak added.
“Acclimates?” Cantor felt stupid. His mind was still trying to get itself around the fact that this delectable piece of womanhood wasn’t going to be his.
“Takes a mate,” Mary said, nudging his belly with her finger. “Aren’t you payin’ attention?”
“But I am not interested in finding a mate,” the girl suddenly interrupted.
Her voice arrested his attention. The gentle, singsong cadence of her words slipped around him like a caress, lifting the hairs on his body and sending blood to stir his cock.
Bloody hell!
“We can’t put her into the dorm with the rest of those horny bitches,” Mary said.
Cantor took offense to Mary’s use of crude language in front of the girl and glared at her. “Why not?”
“Think about it. What happens when the lights go out?”
Cantor swore under his breath. He knew only too well, having availed himself of the bed-hopping orgies his first few months with the colony. The thought of the girl’s innocence shattered by the carnal games, made him feel a little sick. “Then we’ll have to clear one of the cabins.”
“She can’t stay by herself!” Mary protested.
Cantor knew she was right, but felt a bubbling panic. The girl must be kept safe—far from him. “Then you can stay with her,” he said to Mary.
“Hey now!” Darak said, snaking an arm around Mary’s waist. “And where will I be?”
The girl pushed around Mary to stand in front of Cantor. “I do not need anyone to stay with me,” she said, peering up into his face, her luscious breasts inches from his chest.
In defense against her attraction, he gave her his meanest look. “Have you ever lived by yourself, little girl?”
Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t appear a bit impressed with his intimidation. “No. But I will have you know I have reached my seventeenth year and have had my woman’s menses since I was ten! I am a woman!”
He nearly groaned. He didn’t need reminding she was a ripening peach.
Her small, round chin lifted in defiance. “I have come to this planet to secure my freedom from men’s desires. I will learn to stand alone.”
Cantor suddenly became aware that the noise from the crowd had died away and many of the people around them, hung on their words. Worse, many of the men were ogling the scantily clad figure of the termagant before him.
“We’ll discuss this later.”
“Beg you pardon,
Governor
. We need to get her settled—before dark.” Mary’s words drew his attention. Her full lips were pursed in a knowing smirk.
Cantor could feel the familiar bonds of responsibility tightening around his neck. There was nothing for it. He heaved a dramatic sigh. “She’ll stay in my cabin.”
Martha hovered on the edge of the crowd, watching the exchange between Cantor and the dark-haired girl. Her heart had lodged in her throat when she’d witnessed his initial interest in the other woman. She’d seen it in the quickening of his body, so attuned had she become over the past months to his every movement and expression.
Her hands fisted at her sides. Months of tempting him with special dishes she’d cooked herself, teasing laughter, fleeting touches, and bolder, carnal caresses hadn’t produced the heat one glance from the sloe-eyed woman had accomplished.
When she heard the word “virgin” murmured by the men in the crowd around her, she knew she couldn’t compete with the allure of innocence. If that was what it took to draw Cantor’s interest, she was without hope. But as she continued to watch, Cantor grew rigid, his body rejecting the other woman’s appeal even as his gaze clung hungrily to her winsome face.
Instantly, she realized he wouldn’t take the woman’s innocence. Martha should have felt relieved, but she was puzzled. Why wouldn’t he lay claim to her? Any man would consider a virgin a prize—a chance to form a lover into his own ideal partner without the competition of comparison with any other man’s performance.
She fought the bitter knowledge of his attraction and refused to allow the picture of the two of them standing toe-to-toe, only a breath between them, to feed her jealousy. A cool mind was what was needed now to fight this new impediment to her happiness. For Martha knew Cantor’s strong hands, battle-hardened body, and mule-stubborn disposition held the key to her contentment. Any man who could resist commitment so passionately had a strong sense of honor, and would embrace love, when he found it, until the day he died.
The tall, blond Adonis would be hers—if only she could find a way to steal his heart.
Thief that she was, she slipped closer to the small group encircling the woman, hoping to overhear their conversation and find some nugget of information she could use.
Near enough now to hear Cantor’s sigh of resignation, her heart thudded when she heard him say, “She’ll stay in my cabin.”
Anger shook her, tightening her belly. Her throat closed on bile that threatened to choke her. The witch had been here only minutes and already she would share his home.
Think!
The rigid set of Cantor’s jaw betrayed how tightly he held his attraction in check. Martha could have wept, but her tears wouldn’t solve a thing.
She came to a quick decision. Like it or not, the new girl held the key.
She slipped between Darak and Mary. “Hi, Cantor, Mary.” She turned expectantly to the dark-haired girl who gave her a shyly inquisitive glance. “You’re not from the New Attica.”
“No, I am from Arturia.” Her voice was soft and girlish, with a lilt that made her words sound like a song.
Martha gritted her teeth against a little pain that pressed inside her chest. “Can I help you get unpacked?”
“I have only these clothes,” she said indicating her skimpy outfit. “Nothing to unpack.”
“Oh, well we need to find you some extra clothing. It gets cool here at night.” Martha forced a friendly smile. “I’m Martha.”
The girl nodded. “I am called…Little Flower.”
Martha heard the hesitation and wondered about it. She’d soon learn all the girl’s secrets, but first she needed to get her away from Cantor. Turning to him, she said, “Would you like me to take her to the storeroom and get her a few things?”
Cantor’s smile was a little grim as he dragged his stare to her. “I’d appreciate that, Martha.” He immediately turned to Darak and his face grew surly. “Now, where are the bloody, goddamned mattresses?”
Darak’s eyebrows shot up. “Aft.”
“Yeah, I’d say he’s daft,” Mary muttered.
Cantor leveled a blazing stare on the black woman. “Don’t you have someone else to annoy?”
“Nope. I can see my work here’s done.” With a quick flash of her large white teeth she leaned toward Darak and gave him a loud, smacking kiss. “Don’t make me hunt you down.”
“Never, my love.” Darak blushed under Cantor’s searing gaze. “I’ll go see about those mattresses.” He turned and quickly disappeared into the crowd.
Martha summoned another smile. “If you’ll excuse us.”
“Wait a minute, Martha.”
Cantor’s deep voice slid silkily down her spine, and she couldn’t repress a shiver. “Yes?”
“You’re to stay with…Little Flower. Get her clothing, introduce her around, and take her to the galley for dinner. She’s staying with me, so make sure you show her the path.”
“Oh, I know the way,” she replied, proud she’d kept her expression guileless.
Cantor rocked back on his heels, appearing to want to say something.
“Is there anything else?” Martha asked.
He frowned and shook his head. “No, I’ve work to do.” His glance swept the girl from head to foot, then he walked off, his shoulders stiff.
Martha turned to her new charge. “Little Flower. Is that really your name?”
The girl blushed and looked at the ground, sifting the blades of grass with her bare toes. “No. Darak calls me that. He thinks my real name is not very pretty.”
“The cad! What is it, then?”
“Fahgwat,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She glanced up from beneath her long, silky eyelashes.
Martha wished she could manage to make a glance look that sweet and beguiling all at once.
Blast the girl!
“Fahgwat?” Martha grimaced. She’d thought her parents didn’t love her! “It must mean something very pretty in your language.”