The Star Prince (22 page)

Vigilant for unusual sounds or movement in the woods, he tipped his head back and stared at the stars, but their stark beauty was lost on him tonight. If what the pixie said was true, Klark had been interfering with his mission from nearly the beginning.

Twigs crackled behind him. He didn't have to see who it was; he felt Tee's presence on a plane that went beyond the physical: affinity of thought. This must be what the Vash meant when they spoke of it.

"It's cold, Ian."

He took his jacket from her, and she donned her own coat. "If he'd wanted to assassinate me, I'd be dead already," was all he said.

Her tone revealed her abhorrence of the subject. "Yes. I think so, too."

He rolled his shoulders to ease the tightness in his neck. "If you take assassination out of the equation, every act he perpetrates appears calculated to keep me away from Randall. But why?"

"The answers lay inside you," Rom would say. "Listen to your senses Ian, Trust them."

Closing his eyes, Ian recalled, word by word, nuance by nuance, everything Rom had taught him about needing his senses and taking his precognition to a higher level. The Vash Nadah valued the importance of intuition, over the centuries had raised its cultivation to an art form, but was he ready to do so himself?

His instincts had always been good. He'd inherited that ability from his mother and in recent years learned to hone it, thanks to Rom's patience and expert instruction. Guide me…

Tee's voice broke his concentration. "The more I ponder this, the more I think Klark wanted us to come after him. Tonight. Why else would he have let himself be seen?"

Ian opened one eye. "Yes! That's exactly it. A diversion— he wants to deflect my attention from Randall. He has to." Euphoria made him forget his exhaustion. He let out a whoop, then laughed at Tee's surprise. "Don't you see? Klark is Randall's associate!"

"Sweet heaven." Tee breathed.

"He's the one who told Randall about Baresh. He's the one who showed him the fringe worlds." It was the perfect conspiracy— A Vash royal facilitating interaction between troubled frontier worlds and Earth, encouraging a powerful Earth politician's views of a self-ruling frontier, raising the specter of future galactic volatility the Great Council would insist only a full-blooded Vash king could handle.

"An unstable frontier would leave my stepfather no choice but to pick a Vash successor," Ian speculated aloud.

Tee's lips compressed. "Someone like Klark's older brother."

"And that's exactly why I'm not going after Klark." Remember your mission. "Klark's the distraction. Randall's the focus." His gut told him so.

Ian flattened his hand on the small of Tee's back and urged her toward the ship. "Randall's getting ready to leave for Earth, and soon— I feel it. And Klark's dangling himself as bait to keep me from going after him." More supposition, he thought. Another guess. Did he dare risk letting Klark run amok while he concentrated on wooing Randall? What if his interpretation of Klark's plan was faulty?

But time was running out. He had to trust his instincts, to believe in himself.

Ian's eyes sought the stars once more. Each twinkle was a world he'd someday rule. But wasn't that presumption, too, based only on a hunch— Rom's premonition that his ascension to the throne would restore freshness to a stagnating society and unity to a galaxy on the brink of revolution?

A tremor ran through him. His destiny had its merits, he supposed, but it was clear that a serene and peaceful life wasn't going to be one of them.

"At first light, I'm going to Randall's ship," he said.

"You said your proposal wasn't ready."

"We're out of time, Tee; Randall's leaving. I have to reassure him about Baresh… and about me, before he passes on his one-sided observations to Earth." They stopped at the bottom of the entry ramp. "Besides, I have a few hours," he added, then cracked a smile. "Who needs sleep anyway?"

"I'll help you," she offered.

Ian gazed down at his pilot. His fingers throbbed from the cold. Slipping his hands in his jacket pockets he said, "You have no obligation to do so, Tee."

"I know I wasn't part of your original crew, but I believe in you and what you're doing. You care a great deal for Baresh and the worlds like it. You want to help them while also convincing Earth to stay in the Federation. I admire that… how you want to balance the needs of your home with the galaxy's future." Her gold eyes glinted strangely. In a tight voice she added, "You'll make a fine king."

The inevitability of their eventual separation sat heavy in his chest. And hers, too, if he was reading her right. She, like him, realized that they could never be together. And she too must be trying hard to pretend the ache wasn't there.

He brought his hand to her cheek. This sweet-faced quick-talking pixie was trouble incarnate for him— a smart, irrepressible woman with Vash eyes and a questionable past. She kept him wondering what it'd be like to make love to her though his mind belonged somewhere else— anywhere else— and the need to touch her was so close to overpowering his better judgment.

"Please," she said. "Let me help. I have… a yen for politics."

"I noticed."

"Then let me be a part of it all. Let me help."

The years spent submerged in Vash culture had urged him to trust his senses, and those senses told him to take the assistance she offered. He trusted her. "Okay," he said, unable to shake the feeling that in joining forces with Tee, he'd just spun his destiny into a sharp left turn.

Her face glowed. Smiling, he brushed his open hand over her hair, savoring the silkiness of the shorn ends against his palm. "Ah, pixie," he said. "You wear your heart on your sleeve."

She laced her fingers with his and brought his knuckles to her cheek. "What does that mean?"

"It's what we say on Earth when someone's feelings are easy to read. Yours are to me… even when you think you're hiding them." He paused. "You still have secrets, though. Big ones. In time I'll know what they are."

He hadn't meant to sound threating, but her mouth tightened in alarm. She dipped her head, obviously trying to hide her eyes now that he'd told her how easily he could read her.

He tucked his thumb under her chin and tilted her face up to his. "As soon as you're ready to tell me," he reassured her, his voice soft.

She gave him the barest of nods. "Know this, Ian. When I was with you this morning"— her cheeks colored— "in the meadow, I still thought of you as Ian Stone."

"A simple black-market trader," he said, moving closer.

"To me, that's who you'll always be."

"Ah, Pixie… "

Their breath mingled, and his thumb stroked her lower lip. Then he dipped his head and kissed her.

After a brief hesitation, she slipped her arms around his waist. He remembered her eager determination in the meadow, but this was different. She kissed him with a soft, almost loving tenderness he found moved him even more. He smoothed his palms over her hips and sweet backside, pressing her closer. Sighing, she melted against him, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

It's only kissing.

No. It's more than that. You'd be crazy to deny it.

A sound from inside the ship reminded him where he was and what he was doing. Breaking off their kiss he hugged Tee to his chest, afraid to let her see his face before he got himself under control. She'd claimed she preferred uncomplicated liaisons. Right. There was nothing uncomplicated about this woman.

"Get a little sleep," he whispered into her ear. "I want you at least semi-conscious when you play the part of Randall while I practice what I'm going to tell him."

She hunched her shoulders, reacting to his warm breath on her skin with a shudder. Sliding her hands from around his waist, she stepped out of his arms, her expression impish. "I will… because of all we have ahead tomorrow." She backed away, but before she disappeared into the ship, she glanced over her shoulder. "There will come a night, though, Captain, when I won't be so easily dismissed."

The look she gave him promised things he wasn't supposed to be thinking about. It was deep into the night before he finally pushed them from his mind.

"Woo-hoo, Gann! I've got your quarry in my crosshairs!"

Lara breezed into the Quillie's cockpit, bending to give the ketta-cat a cautious pat on the head before she stopped in front of Gann.

He put aside the palmtop he'd been using to re-view data they'd collected so far on the Dars' runaway daughter. "I take it you had a fruitful afternoon in Padma City?"

Her eyes lit up with triumph. "I found her."

"Here? Oh Padma?" The mission is complete; Lara Ros will be out of your hair and your life will go back to the way it was before. Odd, but the realization didn't quite bring the cheer he had expected.

The tracker took off her jacket and tossed it over the back of her pilot's chair. "No, not here. She's on Grüma."

"Gruma's known for its trade in illegal goods, is it not?"

"The black market, yes. Hmmm." She smiled. "I wonder what our spoiled heiress is selling. On the other hand, perhaps someone is selling her."

Gann's gut clenched at the thought. The princess was an innocent in so many ways. What if the darker elements in the frontier got to her before he could bring her to safety?

Lara rolled her eyes. "I'm joking," she said.

He sat back in his chair, a smile of surprise curving his lips. Although the thought of the princess in illicit flesh trade was horrible, even a jest in poor taste was a breakthrough for Lara Ros. He said, "Oh. This is a memorable day, then— in more ways than one."

Incredibly, she gifted him with her first genuine smile. He hadn't made any headway in coaxing a kiss out of her, but then his quest had been subtle. Too subtle, he thought with an inner grin. Now that he'd gotten the first good smile out of her, perhaps it was time to make his intentions clear. A night of pleasure was definitely what they both needed.

Had he ever gone so long without me?

"I questioned a few merchants just in from Grüma," she was explaining. "They say there's an Earth dweller with a small crew there. He has two women in with him. One's a Valkarian. The other is tall, thin, and a bit unusual-looking."

"In what way?"

"Her hair is shorn off."

Gann leaned forward, taking the bait. "Go on."

"She wears an Earth-dweller cap most of the time to cover it. But one gentleman got a glimpse of what's underneath. It's green."

"Green!" Gann exclaimed.

"Well, brownish green. But it looks really green in certain light, they say. One of the merchants remarked that it was a shame she had such awful hair, because she had the face of an angel. A purebred Vash Nadah angel."

"That's her. It has to be. You say the captain's an Earth dweller?"

"Yes." Lara plopped into the chair next to his. "Which means they might at any time head back to Earth."

"Or any number of planets in between," Gann speculated, frowning.

The silver bracelets on Lara's wrist tinkled as she called up Grüma's coordinates on the nav computer. "I can get us there in precisely"— she studied the data— "two-point-four standard days."

Satisfaction swelled inside him. Lacing his fingers over his stomach, he reclined in his chair. "I'm in your hands, Lara. Let's go get her."

Instead of taking her seat, the tracker tucked the ketta-cat under one arm and mounted the ladder leading down from the cockpit.

Gann raised a brow. "What in blazes are you doing?"

"Putting the cat out," she said and ducked out of sight.

By the time he caught up to the woman, she was standing at the top of the exit ramp, nudging the ketta-cat with her boot.

"I said, go on. Shoo." The creature butted its head against Lara's calves repeatedly until she finally relented and patted its back. Gurgling softly, it brushed at her trousers with one velvety paw. Lara plunked her hands on her hips. "It won't leave."

Gann smiled. "Apparently not."

"I'll bring it to the freighter next door. Surely its crew can use a ketta-cat to reduce the vermin population in their cargo holds." But when she reached for the cat, it rolled onto its back. Clearly at a loss, Lara sighed.

"She wants you to rub her belly," Gann said. He crouched down and stroked his hand up and over the animal's warm, silky stomach. The cat writhed, wanting more. "Ah, here, too, eh?" he murmured, rubbing his thumb under its chin. The ketta-cat's head tipped back and its purrs turned to snorts.

Gann said pointedly, "Notice that even this small creature knows that pleasure is heaven's gift, a treasure to be shared and savored. See how she tells me just how to please her? I do like that."

Lara made a small sound in her throat.

He glanced sideways. Her attention was glued to his hands. Her reaction pleased him; he enjoyed having discovered a way to circumvent her self-protective barrier.

He rolled the ketta-cat over and traced the bumps of its spine with his fingertips. Spreading the toes of its front paws, it arched into his hand, tilting its pelvis toward him.

He noticed Lara shut her eyes, color rising in her cheeks. "We have to leave," she said. "Put it outside."

All innocence, he asked, "Why? By now she considers herself part of the crew."

Lara snatched the animal away and marched with it down the ramp. She lowered the ketta-cat to the ground. "Take advice from someone who's been around the frontier awhile; you're better off on your own." She gave it a firm push, then she wiped her hands and walked up the ramp.

Mewing, it trotted after her. "What is wrong with it?" She snatched the ketta-cat up off the ground, holding it in midair, inches from her face. "You know nothing about me. Yes, today I fed you. Tomorrow I might sell your mangy hide to a coat factory!"

The ketta-cat told her what it thought of her threat by rubbing its whiskered face against her smooth cheek.

"Bring her along," he said. "How much trouble can one ketta-cat be?"

She glared at him. "This is your fault. The blasted thing's become attached. I told you this would happen."