Keeper of the Heart (16 page)

She turned to face the intruder, not the least in doubt as to who it was. But no words came to order him out; no words of any kind formed as she was struck again by his handsomeness.

Falon stood there in her doorway, grinning at her, satisfaction exuding from him. He was wearing a shirt now with his leather
bracs,
if it could be called a shirt. It, too, was made of the buttery-soft
zaalskin,
but was white, and without sleeves, and molded to his chest, or what little it covered of his chest, like a second skin. It ended at his waist, and instead of wrapping around like a warrior’s shirt would, it was fastened tight at his navel with golden links of chain. As a covering, it was totally inadequate, leaving too much bare in the deep V that ended at his navel, hiding none of the strength in his thick arms. The white merely made his skin seem an even darker bronze, which in turn set him further apart from the golden-skinned warriors of Kan-is-Tra.

Shanelle took all this in, including the four-foot-long sword at his left hip, the gold dagger strapped to his right boot, the new sword belt embellished with gold and white scrollwork, but most of all his size, his tremendous height and brawn filling her doorway. All the fear she had felt in his tent was there again, but right beside it was that swirling giddiness she’d felt upon first seeing him.

“I had not thought to find you here, woman.”

“That—that goes double.” Managing that much, it was easier for more words to follow. “This is my room and I’m not inviting you in, Falon, so you can just—”

“I invite myself.”

Putting action to words, he moved forward enough to close the door behind him. Shanelle started backing up, but once those azure eyes returned to her, she couldn’t seem to move another step. Anxiety almost had her wringing her hands.

“Falon, there’s no point to this. A few hours haven’t changed anything.”

“I disagree,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate as to why. Instead his eyes dropped to her waist, now minus the computer-link unit. “Does she still listen?”

“No—yes!” Actually, Shanelle didn’t know, but she doubted it. Martha had no reason to keep monitoring her now that she was in her own home, where things like this
didn’t happen.
“I’m just going to say this once. Leave.”

It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “I have decided to test the computer’s threats, as should have been done at the first.”

“All right, I’ll say it twice. Leave.”

This time he shook his head slowly, grinning at her again. “We have much to finish between us, woman, all that I said must be done. Best you accept my will in this, for I will not leave you until—”

“Why
must you be so farden inflexible? Aren’t people allowed free choice where you come from?”

“I have told you this matter goes beyond rights.”

“In your opinion, not in mine. As far as I’m concerned, you’re just using that amends-making nonsense as an excuse to have me again. But that doesn’t work in my book. I’m still refusing.”

“First do we see to your fear, then will you no longer refuse. If it will relieve your mind, we will not join until you ask it.”

He was remembering her begging him before. She was remembering it, too, and the memory frightened her even more. Was it possible he could bring her to that point again? No, how could he? Before, she had begged for pleasure and release. Now she knew that wasn’t what she would get.

“It won’t happen,” she insisted.

“It will,” he insisted right back as he took a step toward her.

She turned to flee, but was scooped up into his arms instead. “Falon, no!”

“You may tell me no—after we rid you of your fear.”

With that his eyes swiftly roamed the room until they lit on the small bed tucked into a corner. He headed right for it, laying her down and quickly filling the narrow space beside her—and that was when he felt the bed moving to accommodate his longer length and widen for two bodies instead of one.

In an instant, Falon snatched Shanelle around the waist and rolled them both onto the floor and supposed safety, he taking the brunt of the fall on his back, she cushioned, or rather jarred, by landing on top of his hard body. But one glance at his wide-eyed look of confusion-laced horror and Shanelle burst into laughter.

She couldn’t help it. Even when he sat up with her now in his lap and started glaring at her, she continued to laugh, unaware that all of her fear was draining away with it. He’d tried to save her from her bed, for Stars’ sake. Her bed! That stirred the memory of having been told about the time her father had attacked a poor adjustichair for moving under him, and another round of merry notes filled the air.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last, wiping tears from her eyes and smiling at him. But then a devil made her say, “Maybe I should thank you for saving my life,” and back came the laughter, until she was totally out of breath and leaning against him in exhaustion.

When it occurred to her what she was doing, she also realized that she was now cocooned in his arms. A number of other things quickly became apparent—that her fear was’ temporarily gone, that he might have looked annoyed for a moment, but his body gave no evidence of it. His hands were toying with her hair. His heartbeat was rather loud beneath her ear. And she had no desire to move off his lap.

“I am to assume you were in no danger?”

She peeked up at him. He wasn’t annoyed, merely curious.

“None.”

“That thing is not a bed?”

Now she had to smile. “It is, but honestly, it’s not alive. It just enlarges itself to suit body size and count when necessary. It’s supposed to make room for more than one body, but remains compact when not in use. Very convenient for a small room.”

“This is no small room.”

“That’s true,” was all she said.

She could have added that since her
fembair
sometimes liked to sleep with her, she’d almost been forced to get the adjustibed to keep from being crowded out of her own bed. But she didn’t want him to realize that this wasn’t a temporary room for her. And remembering why she didn’t brought back some of her fear.

“Falon—”

“It drives me wild to see you in my colors.”

Shanelle sucked in her breath and tried to push away from him. “I’ll certainly never wear white again.”

“I have doubts it will make a difference, not until I become used to you, and maybe not even then.”

She understood that loud heartbeat now. And she’d gotten nowhere from trying to get out of his arms. In fact, they were drawing her closer instead, and too swiftly she was tasting his lips again, and the soft warmth of his tongue. He wasn’t hurting her, but she couldn’t get it out of her mind that he would. Still, her blood liquefied and raced in the meantime, and it wasn’t long before she was kissing him back, uncaring of what would follow, uncaring of anything other than the sweet desire he’d ignited so easily.

To pull the tied knots of the scarves at her shoulders down her arms was to have the whole top of the
chauri
collapse to her waist. When Shanelle became aware that this had been done, it was too late to protest. Hands on her sides lifted her until she knelt on her knees on either side of Falon’s hips, and his mouth closed over one breast, his tongue stabbing at the hardened nipple. The feeling so weakened her that she had to wrap her arms around his head. And then he was sucking— too hard.

“Fal—on!” she said on a rising note.

The pulling eased instantly, his mouth leaving her altogether as he pressed his face between her breasts. “I
will
control it, woman, I swear I will.”

It absolutely horrified Shanelle to realize he was actually fighting for that control. He might as well have lost it, for the results were the same. The sweet pleasure she’d been feeling made way for returning fear that leaped into full-fledged panic. She pushed, but his arms were now around her lower back and hips, pinning her to his chest, and all she could do was strain her shoulders away from him.

“Falon, let me go—please.”

“No.”

There was no room for argument in that answer. His inflexibility infuriated her.

“You can’t keep doing this! I have rights—”

“As do I. Whose rights do you think will take precedence?”

Her eyes narrowed. “What is this, ‘Might makes right?’ ”

He shook his head, grinning. “You gave me the right to join with you, woman, which I have not in actuality done yet. I believe you called it—talk.”

She flushed to remember her earlier boldness. And she’d thought he hadn’t understood?

“Whatever you
think
I gave you, Falon, I’m taking back. I made a colossal mistake, but I’ve already paid for it once. Twice is out of the question. Now let go of me before I scream my head off.”

“Then scream,” he challenged. “I will simply silence you by kissing you.”

She just hated it when people called bluffs without the least hesitation. She did want to scream, but in rage. But even that might bring a servant— then her father. And she could just guess how
that
would turn out. But where did that leave her?

He’d mentioned kissing. Now she noticed him staring at her lips and she tensed, snapping, “Don’t you dare!”

He sighed and began pulling her closer. “It is a mistake to let a woman argue when she cannot win—”

“Do you need assistance, Shani?”

They both turned to see that Corth had entered the room. Shanelle’s relief was overwhelming. Falon’s body stiffened to steel.

“Yes!”

“No, she does not,” Falon growled, and to Shanelle he said, “Tell him to leave.”

“No.”

“Then I must make him.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

She was delighted to have this opportunity to throw those particular words back at him, but he wasn’t. “Your stubbornness becomes annoying, woman. Were you mine, I would not allow it.”

With that he set her on the floor next to him and in one fluid movement rose to his feet, his sword clearing its scabbard as he did. She hadn’t been expecting that. Corth was supposed to remove Falon from the room, physically if necessary, not have to defend himself with a weapon he’d never been programmed to use. For Stars’ sake, this wasn’t a killing matter.

“No, wait!” Shanelle scrambled to her feet and placed herself in front of Falon. “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

“Making him leave, as I was goaded into doing.”

She blushed furiously. “I’m sorry for that. I shouldn’t have used your words. But he can’t leave now. He’s heard me ask for help, and his programming won’t let him leave until he gives it.”

“Then I must change his mind.”

“Change his—Falon, he’s an android. It isn’t possible—”

“I care not what race he is. He interferes, and this I will not stand for again.”

He started to set her aside. She gripped his sword arm with both hands, understanding now that he was apparently missing a pertinent point.

“Falon, androids are machines! Corth isn’t real, he’s a machine, but he still means a great deal to me. And if you destroy him, I—I would never forgive you. He’s been with me since I was born. My father had him programmed to protect me, so it would be impossible for him to leave me here with you now. Besides, he doesn’t know how to use that sword he’s wearing. He only has skill in weaponless fighting. It would be like attacking a helpless child. You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

An expression of keen frustration came over Falon’s features. “I have no qualms about destroying machines, if indeed he is one, but I would not destroy something that you care for.” He put his sword away, proving that she hadn’t been detaining his arm the least bit. “You mentioned a father. Where might I find him?”

Shanelle’s mind drew a total blank for a moment. “He—he’s not here.”

Falon suddenly grinned at her. “It is becoming easier to determine when you lie, woman. You must remind me to break you of that habit when you are mine.”

She gritted her teeth. “Will you go now?”

“Against my better judgment, I will allow you your way a second time.” And then his eyes dropped to her breasts, still exposed. “But not again. Next time we meet, I will know the means to make you mine.”

Falon arrived late to the dinner, but no one remarked on it. Had he not been expected there, he would not so easily have left the woman with her android. But he knew where he could find her now, which relieved his mind on that score. And he suspected her father was also a guest of the
shodan,
and so accessible, which put him in an agreeable frame of mind.

He was eager to speak with Dalden about them, and to find out how soon a meeting could be arranged with the woman’s father. But first he had to greet his hosts.

Challen Ly-San-Ter offered him no surprises. He was as could be expected of a man who had been a
shodan
for more than twenty years, a warrior’s warrior. He was also a man who had the misfortune of having to deal with the visitors all these years, but had not let them change him in any way. And like almost all Kan-is-Tran warriors, his emotions were so well contained as to be practically nonexistent. The Ba-Har-ani had always envied the Kan-is-Tran warriors that ability, which they had yet to completely master themselves.