Garden of Desire: 1 (4 page)

“You’d think they’d be eager to plant their gardens before their bellies,” Cantor said, beneath his breath, unable to tear his gaze from the cruiser.

The ship’s landing gear descended, balancing the craft on spindly legs that made it resemble a giant spider. The gate at the rear lowered and the first of the passengers could be seen in the opening. Cantor stepped forward with the rest of the eager crowd to greet them.

“You’re becoming grumpy, my friend,” Doc said. “You know the cure for that.”

Cantor ignored the jibe and searched for Darak among the new arrivals descending the gangplank. He hoped for word of Captain Zingh’s progress. “Seems everyone’s taking the cure,” he murmured.

“As your medical officer, I recommend a little lust. It’s good for the heart.”

Cantor leveled an exasperated glare on the man. “Have you narrowed down the field for yourself?” he asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.

“I have.”

The fervent tone of Doc’s admission caused Cantor to raise his eyebrows in question.

“I’ve found a couple of ladies who have nursing experience,” Doc added quickly.

Cantor nodded his approval. “A sensible choice.”

“Then there’s Mika. Her talents lie in her hands.” Doc’s expression grew dreamy.

“Ah hah!” Cantor rolled his eyes. “The first two ladies will help you with your practice, while Mika helps you with your co—”

“She performs therapeutic massages,” Doc interrupted, his expression darkening. “And the two nurses will not lack for my attentions.”

“Of course not,” Cantor replied silkily. “Besides, what man doesn’t need a
therapeutic massage
after a hard day’s work.”

“That’s right!” Doc’s eyes narrowed. “And I’d highly recommend it for penile dysfunction.”

Is that what Doc thought was wrong with him? “Good God! There’s nothing wrong with the functioning of my cock!” At the other man’s smirk, Cantor decided to leave before he throttled him. “I’d better make sure the mattresses make it to the dormitories.” He stepped away, heading for the group debarking the ship.

“Keep an eye out, Cantor,” Doc said, his stride matching Cantor’s. “You may find what you’re looking for among the passengers.”

Cantor’s hands tightened into fists and he glowered. “I’m not looking for anything among the passengers.”

“You never know. A good woman can cure your restlessness.”

“Maybe I don’t consider my
restlessness
an illness.” What was it with the men today? Would every one of them offer him advice like some tabloid Aunt Agony? So he wasn’t as thrilled with the thought of settling down as the rest of his fellow pirates. He was still young enough to thirst for adventure.
They’re all getting soft! Bah! “
I’m glad to see you left off the cologne,” he said nastily, his patience at an end.

Doc flushed at the reminder of his initial attempt at seduction. “Turns out I didn’t need the pheromones of a Moldan yak to attract the ladies.”

“What clued you in? The smell?” Cantor asked, adding a surly dig, “Or did you figure out all you needed was the right equipment?”

“It’s not just my cock,” Doc protested.

“Oh?”

“You’ve become a cynic as well as a grump.” Doc eyelashes fluttered. “I’ll have you know, the ladies tell me my eyes are what draw them.”

Cantor pressed his lips together to hold back the guffaw of laughter that threatened to erupt.

From the corner of his eye he saw a familiar figure among the passengers and he hurried forward.

Darak, the pirate ship
Raptor’s
former security officer, strode toward him, a wide grin on his face. The two men embraced, exchanging manly blows to each other’s backs.

Darak drew back, his expression full of devilment. “How’s life in paradise, Governor?”

Cantor saw red. Paradise? The Captain had consigned him to the petticoat patrol while he and Darak enjoyed the footloose freedom of the stars. No doubt both men had enjoyed a good laugh at his expense.

Without thinking Cantor reacted, hauling back his fist and planting a facer on Darak’s handsome chin.

The blow knocked Darak to the ground. He sat up, eyeing Cantor warily. Rubbing his chin, he had the gall to smile. “That good, huh?”

Fahgwat stood still as a statue, resisting the forward surge of the crowd around her as they swept past her and down the stairs on the gangplank. Her stomach churned and her palms grew sweaty.

“Come on, girl,” Mary nudged her, urging her on. “Don’t you wanna see your new home?”

Fahgwat didn’t have the words to reply. Her first impressions of her new home made her want to turn right around and reboard the ship. She’d made a devil’s bargain—her fate hadn’t been improved by her rash decision to flee her ordered but restrictive life on Arturia. She’d entered bedlam.

With one foot poised on the steps, she peered out onto the wide grassy plain. Passengers were surrounded by laughing women and men—many of whom swept the women off their feet to spin wildly in circles or kiss them passionately.

“Do they know each other?” Fahgwat asked. “I understood they had not yet chosen mates.”

“They’re sure getting to know them now,” Mary said, with a wry note in her voice.

One woman squealed when a man grabbed her bottom and squeezed.

Fahgwat drew back further into the doorway. “I’m not sure I want to make their acquaintance!”

“Too late to change your mind.” Mary laughed when she looked at Fahgwat’s face. “I didn’t mean that. Honest. This whole place is about freedom. If you don’t like it here, you’re free to leave. I promise.”

Fahgwat released her pent up breath. “Do I appear such a coward?” She was frightened and hated that her fear was so apparent. Despised how fast her heart beat and how her hands shook. She’d felt every bit as terrified when she’d faced Mogi’s auction block.

Mary smoothed Fahgwat’s hair from her face with gentle fingers. “Not a coward, just…young and innocent. Look, I won’t let anyone treat you wrong here. You helped save my friend—that makes you my friend.”

Fahgwat’s relief at not being abandoned so soon embarrassed her. She summoned up a smile. “Then I shall not cower. But are they always this…boisterous?”

“Tell you what,” Mary said with a wink, “one of them tries to squeeze your ass, and I’ll see they draw back a nub.”

Fahgwat’s smile broadened. Mary was built like a warrior with broad shoulders and arms that rippled with well-developed muscles. “I think you could do it, too.”

“Damn straight. ‘Sides, Cantor will make sure no one bothers you. Now, let’s go find that ornery man.”

Mary grabbed her hand, tugging her down the steps and into the midst of the noisy crowd. Even with all the commotion surrounding her, Fahgwat noted distinct differences between this new world and her home.

For one, the faint smell of fish was carried on the breeze—not too strong, but rather tangy and refreshing. The air itself was moist and heavy—so different from the arid climate of Arturia. Green grass, soft as any carpet, stretched as far as she could see, and no one seemed to care that their shoes crushed the tender blades. Indeed, no one seemed to have a care at all, so loud was their laughter.

In the center of all the noise and mayhem, she spied a glint of something golden. Mary pulled her toward it. The glint proved to be long, golden locks of hair on the head of a tall man. When the crowd parted, Fahgwat saw the massively built man pull back his fist and swing at another. His blond hair fanned out around broad shoulders. Her gaze followed the movement in fascination and drifted downward. The white fabric of his shirt pulled tautly around his narrow waist and his black breeches hugged the curve of his masculine backside and thickly muscled thighs.

As she watched, the man’s features formed a dark scowl that inexplicably excited her. He fisted his hands upon his hips, widening the gap at the top of his shirt. His bare skin gleamed with sweat.

Now, Fahgwat comprehended the moist desire she’d listened to throughout her journey. The slick, wet sounds of passion she’d heard had flooded her own body with warmth. Instantly, she understood them better because desire oozed from inside her woman’s flesh to smear along her inner thighs.

Fahgwat, who had been trained for servitude to men, now wondered if she could enslave one man.

Cantor reached down to haul Darak to his feet. “Sorry about that, mate.”

His friend brushed off the seat of his breeches and gave him a crooked smile. “And here I was thinking you’d pulled the long straw.”

Cantor realized the people around them had stopped to stare, and he felt his face flush with heat. “Bloody hell! Let’s get away from here. I need to talk to you.” To the onlookers he merely scowled, and they turned away.

“Is anything wrong?” Darak’s smile slipped. “Has anyone been hurt?”

“No, nothing like that.” Cantor dragged a hand through his hair. “Look, let’s just find a quiet place and kick back with an ale or two.”

“Sure. But shouldn’t we get the new arrivals settled?” Darak asked, more questions in his brown-eyed gaze.

“Right. Responsibility first,” Cantor muttered.
Damn!
With all the work ahead of him, it would be hours before he could take Darak aside for a talk. He sighed. “Did you bring mattresses with you by any chance?”

“Fifty. We’ll be purchasing more on the next run.”

“I thought you said you’d be staying a while this time.”

“I am, but we need a professional trader. Haven’t you noticed, Guv? Our colony’s growing. We need
things
.” A bemused expression crossed Darak’s face as he surveyed the swelling crowd. “By the looks of the ladies, we’ll be needing diapers and formula before too long.”

“Until we hire a trader, don’t you need a rest? I could take
The Intrepid
out on its next run.” Cantor wondered whether he could convince Darak to take a stint as the headman while he skipped the planet.

“Oh no!” Darak’s ready grin flashed, and he slapped Cantor’s shoulder. “Adam left you in charge.”

“Then who will captain her?”

Darak grimaced, “I need to talk to you about that. Um, I brought you a couple extra people.”

“What? We don’t have enough already?” Instant indigestion weighed like a stone in his belly. “Please tell me they aren’t women.”

“One’s a woman—a very special woman.”

“I wouldn’t care if she were the Queen of Pleasure-givers—we don’t need any more women.”

“The other’s Drago Chavez. He’s a trader from Arturia—and an ex-Dominion soldier.”

Cantor’s head whipped around and he stared at Darak. “What? A Dominion man? And you brought him here? Are you mad? How do you know he won’t bring the fleet down on our heads for the reward?”

“He can’t. He’s in much the same boat as we are. Probably has a price on his head after helping me steal two women from the
Hazar’s
compound.”

Cantor raised his eyes skyward. “Wait, I thought you said you brought
one
. We already have 378 here, why the hell would you need to steal two more?”

Darak shrugged and gave him a guileless smile. “387 with the prisoners I brought today.”

Cantor gritted his teeth against his irritation. Darak knew full well how the governor’s duties weighed on him. How the constant demands and attentions of the women chafed—and he’d just added to his burden. What he didn’t know was how he counted the days until he could leave this idyllic wasteland. “This is going to be a long story, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but first we have a delicate problem. The woman. The special woman, remember?” he reminded Cantor.

“Yes, the Queen of Complainers, no doubt.” At Darak’s reproving glance, Cantor shook himself. “All right, how’s this one unique?” Cantor asked, but with only half his attention on the conversation. He’d caught a glimpse of a glossy black-brown mane of hair. “They’re all a pain in my backside.” People stepped in the way, cutting off his view of the dark-haired woman. Could the woman’s hair really be that long?

“She’s a real gem,” Darak continued, his voice gaining enthusiasm. “But raised for a
ha’arem
. No experience whatsoever with men or even with the sort of women we have on this planet. She’s a nice girl, and quiet.”