The door opened and Denieen stepped in. Marljas snarled at her, and she backed out immediately.
Relaxing, he retracted his claws. “There’s no one here but me, Sheala,” he said softly after the door had been closed firmly, “and I’d never hurt you.”
Tense, Sheala looked about the room. Marljas still wore his leather pants, but the robe Sheala had been wearing had slipped off during the night. She stared across the room at the reflection of her battered body in the mirror and burst into tears.
Bruises covered her upper arms and both breasts. Bruises were also very evident on both hips and buttocks, and there were scratches on her inner thighs.
Marljas leaped towards her. “Sheala,
Cheta
…”
Sobbing, Sheala lifted her hands to ward him off. “Don’t call me that! Look at me! Look what they did to me.”
He stopped.
Sheala wrapped her arms around herself and continued to sob.
His face betraying his distress, Marljas said, “Sheala, look at your left hand. Do you remember?”
Sniffing, Sheala turned her hand over and looked at her palm. Then she looked at his chest, at the matching cuts there. Slowly she nodded.
“Sheala, no Gattan would mark a woman so if he were not absolutely certain of his feelings.”
She looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of how he felt.
He held out his hand. “I have mated with you. You’re my wife.”
Sniffing more, she dropped her gaze. “I’m no longer worthy to be your wife.”
With a soft snarl, he closed the space between them and gently grasped her upper arms. “You’re my wife because you are more worthy than any other woman I have ever met,
Cheta
. You didn’t choose to be used so. What happened isn’t your fault. And Gothran is dead.”
She lifted her head and stared into his face. “Dead?”
“Gutted,” Marljas answered in a self-satisfied tone of voice.
A ghost of a smile appeared on Sheala’s face. “Bakom?”
“A prisoner, but not before my knife drew his blood.”
“Thank you.” She sagged against his chest. “I’m sorry. I feel so ugly.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the universe,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her. At least she was accepting his embrace. He tightened his arms.
As his hands tightened, she tensed again and frantically pushed herself away.
He let her go.
With tears running down her cheeks, Sheala whispered, “I… I can’t…be your wife, Marljas. I don’t want you to…touch me. I—can’t—love—you.”
He felt the blood drain from his face as he stepped before her so that they were only inches apart. “Do you want to run from me now,
Cheta
?”
Sheala stared at him, at his naked chest and the Alalakan dragon that seemed to leap at her from his shoulder. Blinking, she trailed her gaze up the strong column of his neck and stared into his face.
His tawny hair was tangled. The braids he normally wore before his ears had loosened during the night, the leather cords dangled. When she looked up into his golden eyes, her heart constricted at the intensity and openness of his gaze, at the tenderness—and love—she saw there.
Her voice was low, barely a whisper. “Do you hate me?”
Shock appeared on his face. “Never!” Raising one hand slowly, he caressed her cheek with a single finger.
Sheala flinched slightly, but did not pull away.
“Do you wish to run from me now?”
She shook her head.
Trailing his finger along her jaw, he lifted her chin, and smiled. “I told you once before that I would not force you,
Cheta
. That hasn’t changed. There’s time enough for you to learn to trust again. I’m a patient man. I love you, Sheala.”
Sheala sighed and closed her eyes. After looking into his eyes, into his soul, how could she doubt him?
Dropping his hand, he stepped back. “Go now, my love. Last night Deni said something about you soaking in a bath this morning. I’ll be near if you need me. All you have to do is call me.”
Marljas watched as Sheala walked through the doorway into the bathroom. When the door closed, he slumped down on a chair and buried his face in his hands. The fear in her eyes when she looked at him terrified him. He had fought more duels than he cared to count, had been seriously wounded twice and endured the pain those wounds entailed. But that paled in comparison to the pain in his heart at this moment.
What would he do if Sheala was unable to overcome her fear of him?
Growling a curse, Marljas jerked to his feet, extending and retracting his claws furiously. Somehow, someway, Rodak don al’ Bakom would pay for what he’d done to her.
* * * * *
“There’s no reason not to expect her to recover fully,” Deni said. “She’s young, and we women are very resilient.”
Marljas paced to the other side of the room. “You didn’t see how she looked at me.”
Denieen smiled gently. “She’ll look at her father and brothers the same way if they startle her.”
Wendjas rose to his feet. “Do you wish to end this marriage?”
Marljas whirled to face him. “No!”
Wendjas shrugged. “There’s no doubting your feelings then. As Deni said, you must give Sheala time to heal. Patience. You will have to learn to use it.”
Marljas snarled at his brother but said nothing. Both he and Deni were correct. Still, the look of fear on Sheala’s face remained in his memory.
His brother interrupted his thoughts. “We must send a message to Father. News of Sosha’s rescue is already on its way to Gattan. And we wouldn’t want our parents to be the last to know they have a new daughter.”
All thoughts of Sheala drained from Marljas’ mind as his brother’s words sank in. “Message,” was all he said.
Wendjas frowned. “Message? What are you talking about?”
“Solstice Eve, when Sheala and I…” Marljas began. “The message signal was flashing on the
Scrathe
’s console. I forgot all about it.”
“Father would not have broken our radio silence unless it were important. We need to get that message.”
“The
Scrathe
is on Benishan’s landing pad,” Denieen said in a vexed tone. “Security forces there would become very nervous if unaccompanied Gattan were wandering around.” Then her face brightened.
“Bandalardrac.”
Marljas grunted. “Their security would be even more nervous if Bandalardrac were wandering around.”
Deni smiled and cuffed her brother-in-law gently. “He’ll be able to help us.” With those words, she rose from her chair and disappeared out the door.
Fifteen minutes later, she reappeared dragging a mostly naked, disgruntled Ban by the arm.
“Damn it, Deni, ten more minutes, and I’ll follow you anywhere,” Ban complained. “I was almost ready to—”
“Be quiet, Ban,” she answered calmly. “We need your help—now. That maid is supposed to be in the kitchen.”
Even with all his troubles, Marljas couldn’t keep a grin from sliding onto his face. Deni had interrupted Ban while he was making love to a woman.
Wendjas was aghast. “Wife! What have you done?”
“Pulled me off of a very willing woman,” Ban snapped. “A woman with breasts like Medirian sweet melons and a tight, hot—”
“I didn’t parade you through the hallway in all your rampant glory, did I?” Deni interrupted. “I allowed you to wrap yourself in a sheet.”
“Deni!”
Choking back his laughter, Marljas had to turn away. Wendjas would want to leave for Gattan immediately after this.
Denieen shrugged and continued to stare at Ban. Eventually, the absurdity of the situation and Marljas’
muffled laughter dissolved Ban’s anger, and he began to chuckle.
“Wendjas, you must have led a very placid life before you married!” Ban said as he sat back in a chair tucking the sheet he wore more firmly about his waist. “What is it you need?”
Marljas swallowed his laughter. The situation was serious. “There’s a message on the
Scrathe
from our father, and we’re not sure how to go about retrieving it without causing a minor incident at the landing pad.”
“I’ll be glad to help you,” Ban answered, “if you tell me exactly what’s going on.”
Marljas bit back a curse. Ban was far too intuitive to put off with a bad lie. They would need a good one.
Before he could think of one, Denieen said, “It’s very simple, we’re not supposed to be here.”
Ban cocked an eyebrow.
“Deni…” Marljas began in a very low voice.
Denieen sighed. “Who else can we ask? Rodane and Chardadon are good friends, but will they truly understand and not overreact? Ban, on the other hand…”
“…is a disreputable rogue who is not always concerned with legalities,” Marljas finished for her.
Ban grinned.
Wendjas frowned but nodded. “Our family believes that trade with other planets is best for Gattan. Not everyone agrees with us.”
Ban leaned forward. “What do the others want?”
“War,” Wendjas answered.
Muscles tensing, Ban stared.
“We could easily conqueror Varce and Deslossia,” Marljas said. “Deslossia has no defenses and Varce’s wouldn’t be hard to overcome. Drakan and Mediria are in the same solar system and too closely allied. You would be impossible to defeat.”
“We would come to the aid of one another,” Ban finished for him quietly. “Singularly, our defenses aren’t as good as they should be, but together—you can’t attack two planets at the same time.”
“Exactly what our initial ambassadors told us a hundred and fifty years ago,” Wendjas answered.
Ban frowned. “Though you’ve kept it hidden from us, your government is a matriarchy. Are the women of your planet also so bloodthirsty then?”
Denieen waved her hand. “If all the women were against this ridiculous idea, nothing would come of it.”
Ban cocked an eyebrow. “If all…?”
Marljas rose and began to pace. “The queen’s sister favors conquest.”
“How much influence does she have?”
“When we left, not that much. The young hotheads her son calls friends are most of her support.”
Ban pursed his lips then said, “Hotheads with influential parents?”
Wendjas nodded affirmatively.
“Where are you supposed to be?”
“A seaside resort favored mostly by elderly Gattan,” Deni answered. “My parents are there.”
“What about the Gattan ambassadors already posted on other planets?” Ban continued.
“All of our ambassadors believe in trade,” Marljas answered, “or they never would have agreed to leave Gattan. Ours can be a very prejudiced people, Ban. Many consider Gattan superior to all of the other races and prefer no contact at all with other species except to make them slaves.”
Ban nodded. “What’s in the message?”
“We don’t know,” Denieen answered with a grin. “Marljas was too occupied Solstice Eve to do more than save it in the computer banks.”
Ban’s bark of laughter echoed throughout the room.
Rising, he tossed the trailing edge of the sheet he wore over his shoulder and motioned them to follow.
Leading them to the end of the corridor, he opened a doorway. A stairway led upward. At the top he opened another door, and the Gattan found themselves in a room full of state-of-the-art communications equipment.
“Gattan are not the only ones who keep secrets,” Wendjas muttered.
Ban grinned over his shoulder as he sat down and motioned Marljas into the seat next to him. “If you could read Drakian, you’d have seen the sign on the door. It says ‘Communications’.”
He pushed a few buttons. “There, you can patch into the
Scrathe
’s computer banks. Just flip that switch.”
Marljas flipped the switch Ban indicated and punched in his private code. In seconds, his father’s voice filled the small room.
“Wendjas, Marljas, I hesitated to send this message, but your mother and I decided it was necessary.
Don’t worry, no great problem has risen. However, we have received a message from the queen’s sister.
With the blessing of the King and Queen, she has sent a formal proposal of marriage to Marljas on behalf of her daughter, Kadis. Kadis will be arriving at the spring equinox to further her proposal herself. My son, there was no way we could graciously decline the offer.”
Thunderstruck expressions crossed the faces of all three Gattan.
“I will
not
accept,” snarled Marljas.
Ban frowned. “What’s the problem? You’re already married to Sheala.”
Denieen’s voice was grim. “A Gattan male can have two wives.”
Propping his feet up, Ban stared across the desk at his Uncle Kavlalardrac, Medirian Ambassador to Drakan, and sipped a very excellent Medirian brandy. “That’s everything I know.”
Kavlalardrac pursed his lips. “A delicate situation, indeed. There’s no gracious way for Marljas to decline?”
Ban shrugged. “He should be able to. Gattans need not marry at all if he or she so chooses, but the queen’s sister can be very adamant. She might attempt to have Marljas’ marriage to Sheala annulled since she’s not Gattan.”
“And Marljas’ reaction?”
“He wants nothing to do with the queen’s niece.”
Kavlalardrac smiled maliciously. “A power struggle on Gattan wouldn’t harm us, Bandalardrac.”
Ban nodded affirmatively, but his smile was sad. “This family of Gattan is part of us now, Uncle. I don’t want to see them hurt.”
Kavlalardrac sighed and shrugged. “Very well. As I understand it, Marljas’ family has received a proposal of marriage from the queen’s sister on behalf of her daughter. The message did not come from the Queen herself, therefore, it’s not a royal command. I met Queen Mattis and her husband King Krondal. Neither is one to be browbeaten into anything by Jadis, who, by the way, rivals my dear mother in her plots to manipulate her family.”
Ban grunted at that bit of news. He’d never liked his Hardan grandmother.
“In my opinion,” Kavlalardrac continued, “the King and Queen know nothing of how Jadis’ proposal was worded. In all the years we have had diplomatic relations with Gattan, I can’t remember hearing of any marriage forced on a family of the Drefesons’ importance. It is more likely Jadis seeks to draw Marljas to her way of thinking by using her daughter. The girl is quite beautiful, I hear.”