"Falkon?"
He heard the tremor in her voice, knew she was waiting for his answer. "If I asked you to go away with me, would you go?"
"Yes." She answered without hesitation.
"And if I asked you to marry me, would you still say yes?"
"Oh, yes!"
He laughed softly. "I'll hold you to it, you know."
"I hope so."
"Very well, princess. Tomorrow we'll leave this rock and go to Cherlin Four. I have a friend there. We can stay with him until we decide what to do."
Cherlin Four. She had never been there, of course, but she had heard of the people. She had seen pictures of them once. They were a tall race, covered with very fine hair from head to foot, save for their faces. Oddly, the men were unable to grow beards. "Can we get married there?"
"Sure." He grinned at her. "Now that that's settled, I could use a shower."
She nodded, feeling somewhat disappointed. She had been hoping he would make love to her again.
He stood up, turned, and lifted her into his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"I told you. I need a shower."
"But—"
"So do you." He carried her into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped inside.
"Falkon!"
"Yes, princess?" He gazed down at her, his eyes filled with silent laughter.
"Nothing."
He put her on her feet and reached for the soap. Her eyes widened as he began to wash her. It was the most erotic sensation she had ever known, feeling his rough soapy hands move over her skin. She felt herself blush from head to toe, but made no move to stop him. And when he was through, she took the soap from his hands and washed him in return. And then they made love, there in the shower, standing up with the hot water running over them.
She was washing him for the second time when she heard a loud knock on the door. "Who could that be?"
Falkon shook his head. "I don't know."
"I'll go see." Stepping out of the shower, she put on a fluffy white robe, wrapped her hair in a towel, and went to the door. "Who is it?"
"Niklaus."
Niklaus! She stared at the door. It couldn't be!
"Ashlynne, open the door."
"I… I just got out of the shower." She glanced over her shoulder. Falkon was standing in the doorway, water dripping from his hair. "Give me a minute to get dressed," she called, and turned away without waiting for his answer. "What are we going to do?"
"Get dressed," he said, reaching for his trousers. "Hurry."
She did as he asked, and when they were both dressed, he handed her the controller, then held out his arms. "Do it."
She shook her head.
"Do it, Ashlynne."
At his urging, she depressed the control to lock his wrists together. He followed her into the living room and sat on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest. "Activate the controls on my ankles," he said, "then open the door."
Again, she did as bidden; then, slipping the controller into the pocket of her pants, she opened the door. Three men stood in the hallway. She recognized Niklaus at once.
"So," he said, "we meet at last."
"Yes." Ashlynne glanced at the other two men, then looked at Niklaus.
"Brill, Tallman, wait outside," he said, and, stepping into the room, he closed the door. He studied her for a moment, his gaze moving over her as if she were an animal or a piece of furniture he was thinking of buying. "You're even prettier than your photo," he mused aloud.
"Thank you."
He looked around the room, his gaze settling on Falkon. "I was told you weren't alone."
"Oh? By whom?"
"The guard at the port of entry. I would have been here last night, but I was away, and only learned of your arrival this morning."
"I was coming to see you."
"Yes, I'm sure you were, but I couldn't have you traveling the streets alone."
"I'm not alone."
"So I see." Niklaus went to stand in front of Falkon. "I've heard about you," he said.
Falkon bit back the sharp retort that rose in his throat and forced himself to look properly humble and subdued, as befitting one who was supposed to be a slave.
"Commander Casman told me about your escape." Niklaus looked over his shoulder at Ashlynne. "You must have been quite frightened."
She hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes. Yes, I was."
"I was told this man took you against your will, yet here he is, shackled hand and foot. Would you care to explain how that came about?"
Ashlynne glanced at Falkon, her mind whirling. "He took me prisoner and stole a cruiser. When he learned that you and I were engaged, he decided to come here and… and hold me for ransom. He said you would pay whatever he asked to get me back."
"Go on."
"After we landed, I managed to get the controller away from him."
"Why didn't you call me when you arrived?"
"It was late, and I was tired. I wanted to be rested before we met. I bought some new clothes so you wouldn't be ashamed of me."
Hassrick's gaze moved over her once again. The blue velvet pants and matching soft silk top were obviously new, as were the matching soft leather boots.
"I see. And what were you going to do with him?"
Ashlynne paused. She wanted desperately to look at Falkon, but she didn't dare. "Keep him, of course. He is, after all, my slave, and quite a good worker."
"I was told you appeared quite fond of him. Casman said you were quite adamant that he shouldn't be hurt."
"Number Four is my property," she replied. "And all that I have left of value, now that my home is gone."
A shadow passed over Hassrick's face. Was it regret?
"Number Four is a valuable asset, you know," she went on, "for all that he can be troublesome at times."
Hassrick grunted softly. "Yes, I'm sure that's true. Several people have been inquiring as to his whereabouts."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Well," Hassrick said briskly, "let us be on our way, shall we? Where's the controller?"
"I have it."
Hassrick smiled as he held out his hand. "I'll take it."
"I'm quite able to manage, thank you."
"I'm sure you are, my dear, but there's no need for you to be bothered with him any longer."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm in charge now."
"What are you going to do with him?"
"I've not yet decided. For now, we shall take him with us." He waggled his fingers. "The controller, Ashlynne."
She could think of no reason to refuse.
Hassrick took the controller from her hand, stared at it a moment. "I've heard of these, of course, but never had the opportunity to use one."
Falkon went suddenly tense as Hassrick ran his thumb back and forth over the controller.
"Let's see," Hassrick mused, "this activates the manacles on his wrists, and this the shackles on his feet. And this… What does this do?" he asked.
Ashlynne felt suddenly sick to her stomach as his thumb hovered over the top of the controller. She screamed, "Nicholas, don't!" as his thumb depressed the top of the controller, but it was too late.
With a strangled cry, Falkon went rigid as the pain reflex was activated.
She watched in horror as he writhed on the floor, unable to escape the pain, his body convulsing, his face a mask of anguish. She clenched her hands into tight fists, her own body trembling, as the punishment went on and on. She looked at Niklaus, stunned to see that he was actually enjoying Falkon's pain.
Niklaus looked at her and smiled. "It's always wise to remind subordinates who is in charge, don't you agree?"
Knowing it wouldn't do to appear overly concerned and knowing, somehow, that Falkon would suffer for it if she did, Ashlynne nodded. "Yes, of course."
She looked back at Falkon. His face was damp with sweat, every muscle in his body was trembling violently. He lay on the floor, panting
, his body gradually relaxing as the pain decreased and finally ended.
She watched him gather his strength, watched him rise to his feet on legs that still trembled, his face expressionless, his eyes dark with unspoken fury.
"Well," Niklaus said, slipping the controller into his pocket. "Shall we go?"
Chapter Twenty
Falkon sat on the floor in the back of the shuttle, vainly trying to control his anger. To be a prisoner again, when freedom had been within his grasp, was almost beyond bearing. He felt his rage build as he recalled the sheer enjoyment evident on Hassrick's face when he activated the controller. The man had done it for no other reason than to watch him squirm, Falkon thought bitterly, and then frowned, wondering if the man suspected something was going on between him and Ashlynne. It occurred to him that Hassrick might have activated the controller simply to watch Ashlynne's reaction. It seemed unlikely, and yet… He swore under his breath, knowing there would be hell to pay, and he would be the one to pay it, if Hassrick discovered what had happened the night before.
There was no point in dwelling on what might happen, he thought, and turned his attention to the view outside the window. They had left the city behind and were passing through a wide expanse of countryside. Arkata was a fertile land, lush with green grass and a wide variety of trees, shrubs and flowers. Longhaired cattle grazed on the hillsides and rested in shady glens.
After an hour or so, they passed through a small city and then they were in open country again.
From time to time, Falkon heard Hassrick pointing out sights of interest to Ashlynne.
He shifted on the floor, unable to get comfortable with his hands and feet shackled.
They rounded a sharp curve in the road. Ahead, lay a huge walled jinan. An intricate letter H was woven into the double wrought-iron gates that swung open at their approach.
Falkon swore under his breath. The Hassrick holding was bigger than many of the cities he had been in.
The road was paved with crushed white stones that glistened in the sunlight. Tall trees lined the driveway. Acres of verdant grassland surrounded the house, which resembled a gothic castle. Several smaller buildings were located on either side of the house.
As soon as the shuttle craft pulled up in front of the house, the front door opened and a man who was obviously a servant hurried down the stairs. He opened the door for Hassrick, bowed low and then stepped aside as his master stepped out of the vehicle.
Turning, Hassrick offered Ashlynne his hand.
Hassrick's two companions got out of the craft. One of them opened the door for Falkon and motioned for him to get out.
"Can't," he said.
"Lord Hassrick?"
"What is it, Brill?" Hassrick glanced over his shoulder. Seeing the problem, he pulled the controller from his pocket and unlocked the shackles on Falkon's ankles.
Falkon slid out of the craft and the two men immediately moved up beside him, Brill on his left, the other man on his right.
"Well," Hassrick said, taking Ashlynne firmly by the arm, "what do you think?"
"It's… it's quite lovely."
"Yes. I think you'll be happy here. Brill, take the prisoner to the detention area and lock him up."
"Yes, sir."
Ashlynne's heart constricted as she watched the two men lead Falkon away. It wouldn't do to make a fuss, yet she had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she would never see him again. She couldn't lose him now, she thought desperately, not when they'd been through so much. Not when she loved him.
"What are you going to do with Number Four?" she asked as Niklaus led her up the stairs.
"He's a slave," Hassrick replied. "We'll put him to work, of course."
Falkon paced the floor, cursing his luck with every step. Freedom had been within his grasp, and now it was gone. He paused to stare out the small barred window. He was in a cell again, albeit a much nicer one than the one on Tierde, but a cell nonetheless. He had been surprised to find slaves on the Hassrick estate, but they were there, imprisoned in a long row of small huts located at the bottom of a hill, out of sight of the house.
Several guards patrolled the grounds, along with some of the biggest, meanest looking dogs Falkon had ever seen. Even if he could find a way out of the cell, even if he could get past the guards and the dogs, there was no way over the wall, which was a good fifteen feet high and probably laser shielded.
Damn! He had to find a way out of here. But how?
Ashlynne paced the floor of her room, too nervous to sit still, too worried about Falkon and their future to concentrate on anything else. Niklaus had shown her to her room when they first arrived, saying he would show her the rest of the house later, suggesting that she might like to take a nap after the long journey. But she was too worried about Falkon to rest. In an effort to relax, she had taken a hot bath, then changed into one of her new gowns, a silky soft dress of pale lavender that managed to be modest and provocative at the same time. She had bought it with Falkon in mind, would not have worn it now except that it was the only thing she had that was suitable to wear to dinner.
Going to the window, she stared out over the grounds, wondering where the detention area was. Falkon was down there somewhere, locked in a cell. He would hate being a prisoner again, hate being confined in a small space.
She turned and looked around the room. She was a prisoner, too, she thought, even though her prison was quite the biggest, most comfortable room she had ever seen. The carpet on the floor was white, at least two inches thick. The walls were a pale, pale blue. There was a small sofa, an enormous bed covered with a silky blue comforter. Large windows overlooked the yard. There was a white brick fireplace in one corner. A tele-screen filled one wall. The adjoining bathroom was equally plush. But it was still a prison, and she was promised to a man she didn't like, a man she didn't trust, though she wasn't sure why. He treated her well enough, seemed concerned for her welfare, endeavored to make her comfortable, and yet there was something about him that made her cringe. She remembered the look on his face when he had activated the controller. He had done it on purpose, she thought, done it simply for the pleasure of watching Falkon writhe in agony.
Falkon. She glanced at the bed, and wished, shamelessly, that he was there, that they could make love again. Would they ever make love again?
A knock at the door drew her attention. "Lady Ashlynne?"
"Yes?"
"Sir Hassrick requests that you join him in the library in thirty minutes. He would like you to meet his parents."
"Very well."
"I shall come for you then."
"Thank you."
She had thought it strange that she hadn't met his parents earlier, but Niklaus had told her they were away for the day. She was not looking forward to meeting them, or to discussing the wedding. How could she marry Niklaus when it was Falkon she loved? And what would happen if she refused, if she told Niklaus she loved Falkon?
She was certain Niklaus would not want her if he knew she was no longer a virgin. She knew, just as certainly, that Falkon's life would be forfeit if Niklaus learned what they had done.
Briefly, she contemplated telling Niklaus part of the truth, that she was sorry, but that she was in love with someone else and could not honor their engagement. Niklaus was a proud man. It was unlikely that he would still want to marry her if she loved another. But would he let her take Falkon? He had no right to refuse her. Falkon was her property, after all. But could she take that chance? What if she told Niklaus she wanted to break their engagement and he agreed, and then refused to let her take Falkon when she left? She couldn't leave him there.
With a sigh, she sat down on the bed and put on the soft slippers that matched her gown.
A moment later, one of the servants arrived to escort her to the library.
Niklaus's father was a tall, imposing man, with iron-gray hair, a clipped mustache, and cold blue eyes. He wore a pair of black trousers and a dark green shirt. He rose as Ashly
nne entered the room. His wife was rather plain, with short, curly black hair and dark brown eyes. She wore a brilliant pink jumpsuit. A jeweled bracelet sparkled on her left wrist. His parents both radiated the calm assurance that seemed to be an innate characteristic of all people who were born to wealth and privilege.