Jayne Castle [Jayne Ann Krentz] (20 page)

grans any way they choose. They do not serve the males at the table when they dine. They are free to go

out in the evenings to taverns and not worry that when they return some man will threaten to beat them

for their behavior. They go adventuring on the trade routes and return with money that belongs only to

them."

Ridge cut off the glowing description of Arrisa and her friends with a short, rather crude oath. "You

know nothing of that world. It's simply a case of the forbidden being more exciting than what you have. I

must admit that probably anything would look more exciting than life on a farm in the Interlock valley. But

to think of sacrificing your heritage for the sake of being able to get yourself arrested in a tavern brawl is

disgraceful. There is a streak of wildness in you, Kalena. You need a husband to control it."

"And there is a definite streak of old-fashioned, hide-bound, straitlaced prudishness in you, Ridge, that

would do justice to any Great House lord," she returned easily. "Where did you come by such

conservative notions, I wonder."

"Probably from having spent too many years growing up with the kind of `freedom' that comes from not

belonging to any House, even a small one."

"Ah, then we are truly opposite points on a Spectrum, aren't we?" she mused.

"Remember that, Kalena," he said in mocking threat. "It probably means we're well matched."

"That's not what you thought the night you discovered you had married a failed assassin."

To her surprise, he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, Ridge took the comment seriously. "I've had time to

think about matters since that night."

She eyed him with a new wariness. "Come to any brilliant conclusions?"

"A few" He shifted his position slightly, considering her intently. "I understand why you tried to kill

Quintel."

That truly did surprise her. "You do?"

He sighed. "If you have spent the past several years having it drilled into your brain that Quintel was the

cause of your father's and brother's death, then yes, I understand. Someone had to exact vengeance on

behalf of your House. Seen from that perspective, I suppose you had no choice."

"That's very generous of you, Ridge," Kalena said in astonishment.

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"But that line of logic has a major flaw in it," he continued bluntly.

"What flaw?"

"You have no proof that Quintel had anything to do with the end of your House. Nothing except the

word of an embittered old woman who is given to trances and tale spinning, from what I gather."

"She is a fine Healer and a respected woman!"

"She raised you with every intention of sending you to your death while allowing you to believe you

would be free when your task was done."

"I would have been free!"

"No, Kalena," he told her implacably. "In the end you would have died. There would have been no

escape. No freedom."

Stung, Kalena got to her feet and paced toward the stream. "You don't know that for certain. You're

only saying that to salvage some of your own pride. You don't want to admit that you nearly failed to

protect your employer. Your sense of honor is as great as any House lord's. Your pride is above your

station." She glanced back at him derisively. To her surprise, Ridge was smiling ruefully, acknowledging

the accusation.

"So Quintel has informed me," he said.

"You admit it?"

"Why not? It's the truth. There will come a day, Kalena, when my sense of honor and my pride will suit

my station in life."

She swung around to face him fully. "I don't understand."

"It takes money and power and raw nerve to establish a fine House. More of all three to found a Great

House and have it accepted. I'll have the money when I return from this trip with a shipment of Sand. I'll

also have a guarantee of a permanent slice of the Sand route profits. And I have learned the ways of

power from watching Quintel over the years. He has taught me much."

"I expect you were born with the necessary raw nerve," Kalena snapped.

"Perhaps I inherited it from my father," Ridge said casually. "You said you don't know who your father

was."

"I know he was the heir of a Great House in Countervail. He seduced a young woman who had no

House to protect her, got her pregnant and than abandoned her to the streets. She died when I was in my

eighth year, refusing to name my father to me. She wouldn't even tell me which House he represented."

"Why not?" Kalena asked softly.

"Because she knew I would try to kill him and probably get myself killed in the attempt."

"So you were born with your pride as well as your nerve. She must have recognized as much and tried

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to protect you," Kalena said, her voice gentle now.

"Perhaps." Ridge seemed no longer interested in the discussion of his childhood. He got up off the rock

and walked toward the waiting creets, who were helping themselves to a patch of red and yellow

wildflowers. "It no longer matters. One of these days I will be the lord of my own Great House and then

none of the past will matter. Are you ready?"

"Yes." She walked toward her creet. Kalena had one foot in the high stirrup when she felt Ridge's hands

around her waist. He tossed her up into the saddle and stood looking up at her for a moment, one hand

resting on her thigh with casual possessiveness. His golden eyes flared for a moment in the warm sunlight.

The fire in his gaze was not gentle or sensual or persuasive. It was a little savage and utterly determined.

"I must have a suitable wife when I return to Crosspurposes. A woman who can conduct herself like a

fine lady when the occasion demands. A woman who has strength and nerve and who is willing to work

hard. One whose loyalty to me is absolute and who also knows the meaning of honor."

Kalena lifted her chin. "I wish you luck in finding such a paragon. Do you want some advice?"

His gaze narrowed. "What advice would you give?"

"If you do find a suitable candidate for the post, you would do well to treat her carefully. She will be

accustomed to good manners and the behavior of gentlemen. If you are wise, you will not threaten her,

even occasionally, with a creet whip. Nor will you give her orders as if she were a servant. Furthermore,

you will not force your way into her pallet when you have ale on your breath and a desire to copulate

with any convenient female. You will wait for an invitation."

Ridge grinned in response to her short lecture. "Such a woman, if indeed I find one, sounds very dull. It's

fortunate that I have you instead of this paragon on this trip." He smiled at her wickedly. "The one thing

you never are, Kalena, is boring."

He turned away to mount his own creet, ignoring a muttered comment about having a head as thick as a

zorcan's. Ridge swung up into the saddle, aware that he was feeling unexpectedly good in spite of the

morning's hard ride and the two dead bodies that lay behind him in Adverse.

He had been right to reestablish the sexual bond between himself and Kalena. Ridge acknowledged

privately that the one place he felt he had some genuine control over Kalena was in a sleeping pallet. Last

night had reassured him that her response to him still ran as deep in her veins as it had that first night, as

deep and irresistible as his own response to her was. She was a proud, highborn lady, but last night she

had called him husband and accepted him as much.

Ridge was congratulating himself on that fact when he started thinking, not for the first time, about

Kalena's pride. Some of his masculine satisfaction slipped. It was true he had a right to demand her

obedient surrender in the sleeping pallet, but he, of all people, knew how sharp a lash pride and honor

could be. His actions last night must have stung her fiercely.

He didn't want to coerce her into doing her wifely duty, Ridge admitted to himself. He wanted Kalena to

give herself willingly and eagerly. Morosely, he came to the conclusion that forcing her to surrender to

him probably wasn't a reliable means of inducing her warm and willing cooperation. His mouth tightened,

as did his grip on the reins as he came to a grim decision. He would not force Kalena again. He was a

man of honor and he understood the fierceness of her own pride. She hadaright to that pride. He would

give her some time to come to terms with her new responsibilities as his wife before he again claimed her.

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He had a lot of time, Ridge reminded himself. The rest of the journey lay ahead.

Kalena's sense of honor was as strong as his own, even if it had been deliberately warped by the aunt,

Ridge reflected. One of the things he had to do before they returned to Crosspurposes was to ensure that

Kalena understood Quintel was not guilty of murdering her father and brother.

And Ridge had no doubt about that fact. Quintel might be capable of hiring men to act as his private

weapons in order to deal with lawless bandits on the trade routes, but to murder the lord and heir of a

Great House was quite another thing. Quintel was scrupulous about staying within the confines of the law

It was unthinkable that he would step so far outside it. Quintel's own sense of honor was as rigid as any

other lord's.

No, Kalena must be convinced that her House obligation had been sadly misdirected by an embittered,

perhaps crazy old woman. After Kalena understood that, she must be shown that the free life she sought

as a lower class trade woman was not all she had imagined. She needed a husband who would ensure

she didn't forget her heritage. A husband who could, perhaps, even replace the heritage she had lost with

one that was just as proud.

Ridge frowned thoughtfully as he considered the long-term future. Clearly, his trade wife had plans of her

own that she intended to implement when they returned to Crosspurposes. Her desire for freedom was

going to be a problem. But several eightdays lay ahead of them, and much could happen to change a

woman's mind in that length of time.

The creets were in a playful mood that evening. They had plenty of extra energy because they hadn't

been pushed as hard as usual during the afternoon, but they also seemed to delight in the bubbling spring

near the campsite Ridge had chosen. Not long after they camped, the creets were happily bathing in the

fresh water.

As the late afternoon sunlight faded behind the distant mountains, Kalena sat curled on a rock

overlooking the small stream. She watched the birds while Ridge finished the preparations for camping

out on the trail.

"The problem with putting all that extra distance behind us and Adverse this morning is that it threw off

the travel schedule," Ridge complained as he laid the fire. "My original plan was to be near a town every

evening."

"You surprise me, Ridge. I would have thought you'd be accustomed to roughing it on the trail."

He threw her a rare grin. "Being accustomed to it doesn't mean I like it. In fact, it has a tendency to

make me appreciate the comforts of an inn even more than I might otherwise."

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Kalena wrapped her arms around her knees and watched him with sincere curiosity. "I'm astonished to

hear a man such as yourself admit to liking the little luxuries of life."

"You have a distorted view of my nature."

"If that's true it's probably because our time together has been a little tense," she pointed out dryly. "We

haven't really had much of an opportunity to get to know each other."

He paused in his work and glanced at her. "I thought we were

getting to know a great deal about each other in a hurry."

Kalena made a wry face. "I think we're going about it the hard

way.

He shrugged and tossed down a load of kindling. "Possibly. But it doesn't make such difference. The

end result is the same. You are my wife."

"Tradewife," she emphasized quietly.

He gave her a slightly challenging smile. "The distinction is meaningless until the end of our journey."

Before Kalena could respond to that her attention was distracted by her creet's wild chirps. She glanced

around in time to see the bird racing madly along the edge of the stream. The creet was flapping her little

yellow wings in a useless effort to propel herself as fast as possible. The large male was in hot pursuit.

"Ridge, the creets!"

Ridge strode over to where Kalena was sitting, his eyes filled with lazy interest. "They're just playing."

"It looks like more than playfulness to me." Kalena got to her feet, prepared to defend her bird. "Your

animal is attacking mine." Not exactly."

"What do you mean, not exactly? He's trying to assault her.

Just look at the way he's chasing her. Stop him, Ridge."

"I doubt if I could, even if I wanted to. Don't you know it's

dangerous to come between a male and his female?"

Kalena glared at him, outraged. "Are you saying your creet is trying to rape my little bird?"

Ridge cleared his throat. "They're a mated pair, Kalena," he reminded her. "Such behavior is natural."