"Good afternoon, my lady," he said quietly.
She turned to face him. "Hello, Number Four," she said, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. "Would you saddle this horse for me, please? I should like to ride."
"As you wish, my lady." His gaze caressed her.
"And saddle one for yourself."
Bryson appeared. "Excuse me, Lady Ashlynne, but he has work to do."
Ashlynne spoke without looking at him. "Excuse me, Mr. Bryson, but Number Four belongs to me. He may work here when I have no need of him, but he is mine to command, and he will do as I tell him. Is that understood?"
Bryson cleared his throat. "Lord Hassrick…"
Drawing herself up to her full height, Ashlynne looked at Bryson. "Lord Hassrick does not own Number Four. I do. And I wish to have him accompany me."
A faint flush crept up the man's neck. "Yes, my lady." He inclined his head in a respectful gesture and left the barn.
"Well done, my lady," Falkon said with a roguish grin.
"Thank you, Number Four," she replied, happiness bubbling up inside her at seeing him again, being close to him again.
She watched while he saddled the mare she had chosen, then saddled another mount for himself.
Moments later, they rode out of the barn. Falkon rode behind her, as was proper for a servant.
Ashlynne kept her mare to a sedate pace until they were out of sight of the barn, and then she drummed her heels into the mare's sides.
The horse snorted, bucked, and then shot forward, running like the wind.
Ashlynne glanced over her shoulder. Falkon was coming up fast behind her.
"Can't catch me!" she hollered. She leaned forward, one hand lightly patting the mare's neck. "Let's go, girl!"
They let the horses run until they slowed of their own accord. Ashlynne drew rein beneath a lacy blue willow tree and slid from the saddle. Laughing, breathless, she turned to watch Falkon dismount. He was grinning at her.
"We won!" she exclaimed.
"Hah. We let you win."
"You did not."
"Sure we did. Come on, we need to cool the horses out."
Side by side, they walked across the verdant grass, leading their mounts.
"I've seen whole countries smaller than this place," Falkon remarked.
Ashlynne nodded. She had known Niklaus was rich, but this was far beyond anything she had imagined.
"Does he know where you are?"
"No. He went to a meeting with his father. His mother was entertaining friends. I pleaded a headache and said I needed some fresh air."
Reaching over, Falkon took the reins from her hand and tethered both horses to a tree, and then he drew her into his arms and kissed her.
With a sigh, she leaned into him, every other thought burned away by the touch of his lips on hers, the sheer delight of being in his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight, felt his body's response to her nearness. His lips were warm, his tongue a sweet invasion that quickened her desire and sent heat curling through her belly.
She moaned softly as his hands slid up and down her back, delved under her sweater to caress her skin.
"Ashlynne?"
"Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes."
He lowered her to the ground, stretched out beside her, and drew her into his arms. For a long while, he did nothing but hold her, and then he kissed her again, gently at first, as if she were a fragile flower that might wither beneath his heat. But she didn't want gentleness, not now, not when it seemed like days and days since she had been in his arms.
"Tell me," she said. "Tell me you love me. That you've missed me as much as I've missed you."
"You know I do," he replied, his voice husky with desire.
"Tell me."
"I love you, princess, more than my life."
She smiled at him. "I used to hate it when you called me that, you know."
"I know. Why do you think I did it?"
She punched him on the arm, then rolled on top of him.
"Now what?" he asked, grinning.
"Now this." She ran her tongue over his lips. "And this," she murmured, and kissed him, hungrily, deeply. Desire ran hot and swift through her veins and she pressed herself against him, wanting him, wanting all of him.
Sitting up, she tugged at his shirt, drawing it over his head, tossing it aside.
He looked up at her, one brow raised. "Now you," he said.
She felt a blush rise in her cheeks as she removed her sweater, sighed with pleasure as his hands moved over her skin. Rough, callused hands. Strong hands. Gentle hands.
The rest of their clothing disappeared as if by magic and then, with a low, sexy growl, he tucked her beneath him. His weight was a welcome burden and she gave herself to him completely, heart and soul, mind and body. She was his, would always be his.
She closed her eyes, caught up in the wonder of his touch, the magic of his love. Magny had told her that love between a man and a woman was the most wonderful thing in the world, but she had never believed it, until now, had never known that love could be so beautiful, fill her with such a sweet ache.
Fulfillment washed over her in waves and she cried his name. Tears welled in her eyes as the love in her heart overflowed and spilled down her cheeks.
Ashlynne traced lazy circles on his belly. His skin was warm, his stomach hard and ridged with muscle. She ran her finger over a jagged scar on his chest. There was another on his left arm, another on his thigh. She knew the one on his right shoulder was from where the laser had struck him when he fought the Hodorians. Remembering that brought her parents to mind.
"Hey," he asked, frowning. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, even as her eyes filled with tears.
He raised himself up on one elbow and gazed down at her. "What's wrong, princess?" She laid her hand over the scar on his right arm, and he knew what she was thinking, what she was remembering. Muttering an oath, he sat up and drew her into his arms. She clung to him, her body racked with sobs.
Knowing there were no words he could say that would ease her pain, he held her tight, one hand lightly stroking her hair, until her sobs subsided.
"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling. "I didn't mean to cry all over you."
"I don't mind." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I needed a bath anyway."
She laughed through her tears, loving him all the more. What a comfort he was! It was hard to imagine a time when he hadn't been there for her.
He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek, wiped the tears from her eyes with his fingertips. "We should probably be going back."
"I don't want to."
"I know, but sometimes even a princess has to do things she doesn't want to."
He stood up and offered her his hand and when she took it, he pulled her to her feet, then folded her into his arms and kissed her. And then he gave her a swat on her bare behind.
"You'd best get dressed right quick," he said, his voice gruff, "or we'll never leave."
Niklaus was pacing back and forth in front of the barn when they got back.
"Where the devil have you been?" he demanded as he lifted Ashlynne from the back of her horse. "I was just about to send Brill to find you."
"I'm sorry if I worried you," she said, though she doubted he had been worried at all. "I didn't mean to be gone so long." She smiled up at him. "It's just so beautiful here, I forgot the time."
He grunted softly, somewhat mollified by her praise. "Why did you take him? Slaves aren't permitted the use of the horses."
Ashlynne glanced at Falkon, who was unsaddling her mare. "He's been a loyal servant," she said. "At home, he always rode with me, in case something happened." It was a bald-faced lie, but it was the only excuse she could think of.
"I see. And what did you think might happen to you here?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. My father always insisted I ride with someone in case I was thrown, or my horse stepped in a hole."
"Next time
you want to ride, I'll go with you," Niklaus said, taking her by the arm. He looked at Falkon. "Be sure you cool the horses out properly and give them a good rubdown."
Falkon nodded. Jaw clenched, he watched Hassrick lead Ashlynne away.
Chapter Twenty-three
Falkon paced the floor of his hut, his mood bleak. Six and a half weeks had passed since they'd arrived in Arkata. He had spent the days working in the barn, mucking stalls, grooming the horses, cleaning tack. When he wasn't in the barn, he was sent to work in the fields with the other slaves. Keeping the grounds looking the way the Hassricks wanted required constant care. It was work that could have been done by androids, but androids were more expensive than slaves. Falkon didn't think the cost had anything to do with the reason Hassrick kept slaves. The man could afford a hundred androids, a thousand. It was the feeling of power, of control, that Hassrick enjoyed, the sense of ownership, of being better than those around him.
He ran his hand over the collar around his neck. Of all the slaves on the Hassrick estate, he was the only one forced to wear the thick collar and shackles.
Of course, the Hassrick slaves were well taken care of. They might not live in luxury, but the huts were kept clean, the food was plentiful if unimaginative. They were allowed to bath regularly. It was far better than working in the mines, but that didn't make it any easier to bear. Bars were bars and prison was prison.
He had spoken to the other slaves, questioning them about the estate. They had assured him there was no way out save through the front gate, which could only be opened from inside the house, or with a key code. Not only were the walls too slick and too high to be scaled, but they were electrified. The prisoners all had horror stories of slaves who had been killed trying to go over the wall, or who had been mauled and killed by the dogs that prowled the outer perimeter, or who had been shot by the guards while trying to escape.
He listened and nodded, but he hadn't given up, not yet.
Ashlynne came to see him whenever she could sneak away from the house. She had told him that plans for the wedding were moving forward. Her dress had arrived, Zahara's secretary was busily writing out invitations, the cook was planning the menu. She had told him that the house servants were working day and night, readying rooms for guests who would be arriving early or staying late. Her future mother-in-law had decided she hated the furnishings in the main salon and the room was being completely redecorated. She hadn't found the code for the keypad, and didn't dare ask about it, for fear of arousing suspicion.
Going to the door, he watched the sun come up. Another day of enforced labor, of doing another man's bidding.
Ashlynne came down to the barn just before midday.
"I wish to go riding, Number Four," she said. "Go saddle my horse."
"Yes, my lady."
A short time later, they were riding toward the far end of the estate. As soon as they were out of sight, Ashlynne reined her horse to a stop. Falkon rode up beside her. Leaning forward, he kissed her.
"I was hoping you'd come today," he said.
"I had a feeling you needed to get away for a little while."
"You got that right. Sometimes it's all I can do to keep from laying into Bryson."
"Falkon, you mustn't!"
"Dammit, Ashlynne, I'm going slowly insane."
"I know." She stroked his cheek. "I know. Please, just be patient."
"I'm trying." He glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, I want to get as far away from the house as possible."
They rode for almost an hour. Falkon glanced at Ashlynne. She seemed distracted, and he wondered what was bothering her. It wasn't like her to be so quiet for so long.
He reined his horse to a halt in a small glen. Dismounting, he tethered both horses to a tree, then lifted Ashlynne from the saddle.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She looked up at him, her eyes troubled. "Nothing."
"Ashlynne, don't lie to me."
"Kiss me, Falkon." She wrapped her arms around him and drew his head down. "Kiss me, kiss me."
She was hiding something from him, and he wanted to know what it was, but somehow, with her mouth urgent on his and her hands moving over him, it didn't seem to matter.
"Falkon, oh, Falkon." She clung to him, murmuring his name over and over again, and he surrendered to her touch, letting her do what she would, not resisting when she pulled him down to the ground. She kissed him again, and then dissolved into tears.
"Ashlynne, what's wrong?"
"I…" She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."
Of all the things he had expected her to say, that was the furthest from his mind. Pregnant!
She was looking up at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. Pregnant… He thought of Maiya. He hadn't been there when their daughter was born. He'd been off fighting a war on Calaas Ten. By the time he'd returned home, his daughter had been almost two months old. He hadn't been there when she died, either, he thought bitterly. He had been off fighting another war. He lifted his hand to the collar at his throat.
"Falkon?"
He ran his knuckles along her cheek. Where would he be when this child was born? "Are you sure?"
She pulled away from him and sat up. "I'm sure. You don't want it, do you?"
The pain in her voice was like a knife slicing into his heart. "Ashlynne…" He drew her back into his arms. "It's not that. It's just…" He shook his head.
"Just what? What are we going to do?"
"Beats the hell out of me." He lifted her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.
"I guess it isn't very good timing, is it?" she asked.
"Not very." He grinned at her. "But I'll tell you one thing. You're not marrying anybody else."
She laughed, and then grew sober once again. "I'll tell Niklaus tonight that I've changed my mind, that I've decided to go back to Tierde."
"And you think he's gonna let you go, just like that?"
"Why not? Surely he won't want to marry me if I tell him I don't love him."
"I think you're overlooking something."
"What?"
"The mine."
"What about it?"
"I don't know, but I've got a feeling…" He shook his head. He couldn't put it into words, but deep in his gut he had a feeling that Hassrick had been involved in the attack on the mine. But why?
"I'll tell him tonight."
* * *
Ashlynne stared at Niklaus. "What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"
"People rarely marry for love these days, my dear. You know that. It was your father's wish that we wed, and we shall be married, as planned."
"But I don't want to marry you. I never did."
"But you will."
"No."
"You're acting like a child, Ashlynne. We will be married, as planned. End of discussion." Pivoting on his heel, he walked toward the door.
"I'm pregnant." The words were out before she could call them back.
He stopped in mid-stride and turned, very slowly, to face her. "What did you say?"
"I'm pregnant."
"You're lying."
Ashlynne shook her head. "No. It's true."
"Who's the father?" he asked, and in the same breath, answered his own question. "Number Four. It's him, isn't it?" he demanded with a sneer. "That's why you were so worried about him."
She didn't deny it, didn't care what Niklaus thought of her. He would have to let her go now.
"You will marry me, Ashlynne, as planned."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
"But I am."
"What will you tell your parents about the baby?"
"I shall say it's mine." His smile was cold. "You're very beautiful, after all. No one will be surprised to learn that we consummated the marriage before the vows were said."
"I won't be a party to such a despicable lie."
"The choice is yours, of course. You may leave, if you wish."
It was
too easy. She stood there, waiting, her stomach in knots.