The Captive by Amanda Ashley
She nodded. "Of course."
"I see we understand each other."
She nodded again, then excused herself and went to her room. Going to her computer, she typed in her password, then wrote a short letter of instruction, which she sent to her father's older brother, Samuel. Much to her father's chagrin, Samuel had entered the ministry and was a priest of the old religion on Cannus Twelve. Aside from Falkon, he was the only man she trusted.
When Ashlynne woke the next morning, the maid, Kerolena, informed her that Niklaus had left for Hodore. Her first thought was that she was free. Sitting up, she raised her arms over her head and stretched. Free!
She bounded out of bed, not wanting to waste a minute of the precious few days she would be alone.
"What will you be wanting for breakfast?" Kerolena asked.
"I don't care. Anything!"
With a nod, Kerolena left the room.
Ashlynne took a long, hot shower, dressed quickly in a pair of dun-colored riding pants and a lavender silk shirt. She slipped on a pair of thick socks, pulled on her boots, and hurried downstairs for breakfast. She hardly tasted what was placed before her, and when she was finished, she left the house and went to the barn. A short time later, she was riding toward the mine.
He didn't think, didn't feel. Ignoring the dull, nagging pain in his back and shoulders, he dug in the hard, dark earth. It was about eleven, as far as he could tell. He'd been at work for five hours and had another hour or so to go before he'd get a break. And then another six hours after that.
He glanced at the men laboring beside him. The one on his left was from Daccar. From whispered conversations over the last week and a half, Falkon had learned that there was increasing unrest on Daccar, that the people were starting to put their petty wars behind them, finally realizing that if they didn't stand together, Romariz would destroy them. There were rumors that Drade was away from the mine, and that Hassrick had made some sort of alliance with Brezor, the ambassador of Cenia. Falkon had been unable to hide his skepticism when he heard the news. Cenia was a distant planet of strange yellow-skinned people, though it wasn't the color of their skin that set them apart, but the fact that they followed a religion that had been outlawed in every other known galaxy, a religion that practiced human sacrifice.
But that was not his problem, not now.
"Number Four."
Stifling a groan, he rose to his feet and glanced over his shoulder.
"You're wanted outside."
Outside. The slaves were never summoned outside before dark.
The manacles on his wrists snapped together as he made his way along the narrow shaft that led up, up, to the mouth of the cavern.
He emerged, squinting against the sunlight.
"Here he is, Lady Hassrick."
Ashlynne? Here?
"Thank you."
He blinked against the sunlight, wondering what she was doing there, in the middle of the day, alone.
"I'm taking him with me."
"I have no clearance for that."
"I do."
The guard shook his head. "I can't release him without written authorization from Lord Hassrick or Commander Drade."
"Of course you can't." She smiled as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a sheet of paper. "And here it is."
The guard took the paper and read it quickly.
"Very well, my lady. When will you be bringing him back?"
"In a few days. I have some work for him to do up at the house."
"Yes, ma'am. Here." He handed her a controller. "You'll be needing this.
"Thank you." She dropped the controller into her pocket. "Come along, Number Four."
Wordlessly, he fell into step behind her horse, admiring the way the sun danced in her hair, wondering what miracle she had wrought to get him out of the mine.
As soon as they were out of sight of the compound, Ashlynne reined her horse to a halt. Taking the controller from her pocket, she released his hands, then took her foot from the stirrup. "Well, come on," she said, "unless you want to walk."
He swung up behind her and she urged the horse into a lope, riding down the beach until she came to a small sheltered cove.
When she reined the horse to a halt, Falkon slid over the horse's rump, then stood looking up at her.
"Aren't you going to help me down?"
He looked at her, then shook his head. "I'm filthy." He was beyond filthy, he thought, covered with the dirt and sweat of the last week.
"I don't care."
She held out her arms and he lifted her from the back of the horse, letting her body slide slowly down his own as he lowered her to the ground.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I missed you," she whispered.
There weren't words enough to say what he was feeling. Instead, he drew her close and kissed her, hard and quick, and then again, slow and gentle, his mouth moving lightly over hers, his tongue teasing her lips.
"Falkon…" She moaned his name, her hands moving restlessly up and down his bare back, reveling in the feel of his sun-warmed skin, the way his muscles quivered at her touch.
It had been too long, too long. Desperate for his touch, she pulled him down on the shimmering golden sand, her hands feverish as she tugged at his breeches.
He removed his boots, then settled back on the sand, grinning roguishly. "Gonna have your way with me, are you?"
"Just as soon as I can," she retorted as she flung his breeches aside.
He watched through heated eyes as she quickly shed her own clothes, and then he gathered her into his arms and kissed her, his clever hands moving over her, caressing, teasing, arousing her until she writhed beneath him, lost in the wonder of his touch. Her hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, delved into the silky soft hair at his nape. She was dying, she thought, being devoured by the heat of his mouth moving over her flesh, a hungry flame that left tiny fires of need burning in its wake.
She was ready, more than ready, when he rose over her, his body merging with hers, filling her, completing her, as their hearts and spirits blended, soaring toward that one moment when two were truly one.
* * *
Falkon brushed a kiss over her cheek. "How did you manage this?"
They were lying in each other's arms, sated. Content.
"Niklaus has gone to Hodore."
"Why?"
"I'm not sure. What difference does it make?"
Hassrick had gone to Hodore. Perhaps the rumors he'd heard had some foundation in truth, after all. And Drade was gone, too. Coincidence?
"We have a whole week to be together."
"And how are you going to explain this to him when he gets back?"
"I don't know. I'll worry about it when the time comes."
He lifted himself up on one elbow, his hand splayed across her belly. "Are you all right?"
"Fine. Well, mostly fine. I still get a little nauseous sometimes."
"You're beautiful. Do you know that?"
"You are."
He laughed derisively. "Yeah."
She lifted one hand, her fingers running over the thick lynaziam collar at his neck. "Is it terribly uncomfortable?" She ran her fingertips over the manacles on his wrists.
"Uncomfortable?" He snorted softly. "You could call it that, I guess."
"I wish I could remove it."
"Yeah, me, too." He hated the collar, hated the way it felt almost as much as what it stood for.
"Someday," she murmured.
"Yeah," he said bleakly. "Someday." He looked down at her, frankly admiring the soft curves of her body, the sweep of her lashes, the way her hair looked spread over the sand, silver over gold. The warm satin smoothness of her hip and thigh pressed intimately against his own. Her breasts were full, her belly slightly rounded with new life. A child. His child. His woman… He had a sudden, unwelcome image of Ashlynne in Hassrick's bed, writhing in pleasure in Hassrick's embrace.
"What is it?" Ashlynne asked, alarmed by the su
"Nothing."
"Tell me."
"I was just thinking of you. With him."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean."
"Oh." She caressed his cheek. "We don't sleep together."
He looked at her in disbelief. "Never?"
"Never. He said he didn't want another man's leavings."
Falkon stared down at her. "Yet he still married you, knowing about the baby," he mused. Why? That was the question. And the mine was the answer. Ashlynne owned the mine. If she had died in the attack, the mine and its profits would have been taken over by the Confederation and Hassrick would have lost his chance to be in control.
"Falkon?"
"Are you sure he didn't say why he was going to Hodore?"
"He just said business. Oh, he did say he would have some papers for me to sign when he got back."
"What else did he say?"
"He wanted me to sign the mine over to him."
"Did you?"
"No."
He drew her close, in sudden fear for her life. If Hassrick could convince Ashlynne to give him the mine, he would have no further need of his wife. Especially a wife carrying another man's child.
"Don't sign anything that gives him control of the mine, Ashlynne," he said urgently. "Promise me."
"I won't."
"Do you know if Drade went with him?"
"He didn't say. Why?"
"I think the two of them must be plotting something."
"What?"
"I don't know. But Drade craves power. He always has. That's why he allied himself with the Romarians. Because they're the most powerful influence in the galaxy. I think he was behind the attack on the mine."
"That doesn't make sense. Why would the Romarians want to attack the mine?"
"I don't think the Romarians had anything to do with it. I think it was a plan hatched by Drade and Hassrick."
"But why?"
He shook his head. He had given it a lot of thought in the last few weeks. "You were supposed to be visiting Hassrick the week the mine was attacked. I think someone screwed up and attacked early."
Ashlynne stared up at Falkon, remembering how surprised Hassrick had been to hear from her. No wonder. He had been certain she was dead, killed in the explosion that had destroyed the jinan. But that would mean… She shook her head. "No, it can't be true." Yet even as she said the words, she knew, deep inside, that it was.
"Be careful, Ashlynne."
"I don't want to think about that now." She gazed up at him, her heart swelling with such love she thought it might burst within her breast. No matter that she was married to Niklaus, Falkon was the husband of her heart, the other half of her soul. She saw him, and her spirit soared. The sound of his voice thrilled her. The touch of his hand made her quiver with longing. He was in her every thought, as much a part of her as her hands and feet, as the child growing within her. How had she ever lived without him?
She held him close, giving thanks to whatever fate it was that had brought him to Tierde, and was immediately overcome with a wave of guilt and remorse. How could she be so selfish? He had lost his wife and child, spent months in captivity. He was still a prisoner. She would have spared him all that, if she could, and yet if his life had been different, they never would have met.
She clung to him, afraid, so afraid, of losing him.
"Ashlynne, what is it?"
She buried her face in his shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.
"Ashlynne?"
She shook her head, unable to speak past the lump in her throat, not wanting him to see the tears burning her eyes.
"What is it, princess?"
"I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much, I'm… I'm afraid." She choked back a sob. Everything she had ever loved had been taken from her— her parents, her best friend, her home. She couldn't bear to lose him, too.
Falkon slid one hand under her chin and tilted her head up so he could see her face. The love shining through her tears reached deep into his heart. "Ashlynne. Sweetheart."
Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her gently, tenderly. He didn't have to ask what she was afraid of, didn't have to wonder what she'd been thinking. He knew her thoughts as well as he knew his own.
Hoping to distract her, he stood up. "Come on," he said, taking her by the hand and lifting her to her feet. "Let's go for a swim."
She glanced at the ocean, at the white-tipped waves tumbling over the shore, then looked at Falkon. "You really could use a bath," she remarked. "And so could I." Bits of the fine black dust that covered him clung to her skin.
"Second best idea you've had all day," he said with a grin.
"Can't catch me," she cried, and letting go of his hand, she sprinted toward the water.
He caught her where the surf met the sand and they landed in the water together. She squealed as a wave broke over them.
On hands and knees, they faced each other, then Falkon picked up a handful of sand and rubbed it over her left arm.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Washing you."
"With sand?"
He nodded, picked up another handful of sand, and rubbed it over her right arm. It felt surprisingly refreshing.
"My turn," she said. They spent the next ten minutes washing each other and then went for a swim.
They left the water hand in hand. Back on the beach, he drew her into his arms for a quick kiss, and the fire between them sparked to life once more.
Sinking down on the sand, he made love to her again, felt her tears drip like warm rain on his face.
Wrapping her in his arms, he held her tight, one hand stroking her hair. He shouldn't have come here with her. When Hassrick found out, there would be hell to pay for both of them. For himself, he didn't give a damn, but he didn't want Ashlynne hurt. She'd already suffered enough.
"Tell me," she whispered.
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, more than my life."
"Falkon, let's leave here, now, today! Let's run away!"
"How far do you think we'd get on that horse?"
"We'll take the shuttle."
"And then what?" He kept his voice light, but his mind was already turning, planning. Enjine Base Nine was out of the question; they couldn't go there. But the shuttle would get them as far as Nardin. From there, they could get transport to Cherlin Four.
"Falkon?"
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I'm sure."
He kissed her soundly, then stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Let's do it."
Exhilarated by the promise of freedom, they dressed quickly. Falkon helped her mount, then swung up behind her.
It was, he thought, shaping up to be one of the best days of his life.
Chapter Twenty-six
When they were within sight of the house, Falkon dismounted and Ashlynne activated the shackles on his wrists. Trailing a respectful distance behind her horse, he followed her through the massive side gate and around the back of the house to the stable.
A man came forward to help her dismount. His gaze moved over Falkon, his expression blatantly disapproving as he took the stallion's reins and led it into the barn.
"Come along, Number Four," Ashlynne said.
He fell into step behind her. The new house was even more impressive than the old one, he mused, and wondered if, one day, she would be sorry she had left it all behind for a man who had nothing.
When they reached the front of the house, she turned to face him. "Wait here. I'm going inside to tell Kerolena that I've decided to go shopping in the city."
Falkon nodded.
"I won't be long."
Ten minutes later, she was back, followed by a tall, sour-faced man. Falkon recognized him as one of Hassrick's bodyguards, but he had eyes only for Ashlynne. She had changed her riding clothes for a green dress that made her ey
"Let's go, Number Four."
He obeyed without question.
The sour-faced man opened the door of the shuttle and handed Ashlynne inside.