Conquest by REBECCA YORK Page B

She had wanted to wear something less revealing, but the gown had been chosen for her.
    He sucked in a sharp breath. “You are too small to bear me sons.”
    “That’s not true!” she retorted. “I---I’ve had every medical test the doctors could give me, and I’m one of the top candidates for pregnancy. That’s why they married me to Brice. And to you.”
    He chuckled, a deep, startlingly splendid sound that filled the small room. “I’m sorry if I offended you. Are you saying you want to have my sons?”
    She felt color flood her face. “I must do my duty.”
    “Hmm. We will see if we can keep the getting of children from being too unpleasant.”
    He was teasing her. She saw it in his eyes. Heard it in the rumble of his voice.
    Elena frowned, puzzled. She hadn’t expected a sense of humor. She had expected him to throw her onto the bed and take her the way Brice had, over and over, until she hurt too much to move.
    She didn’t know what he saw on her face as the painful memory assaulted her, but she caught a flicker of some unreadable emotion crossing his craggy features. He turned away from her and opened the control panel again, dimming the lights so that the soft pink glow emanating from the Iannar stone walls was visible.
    She watched as he put another measure of fuel on the fire and stirred the embers with the poker. Then he pulled several cushions off the chairs and arranged them at the end of the rug in front of the fire.
    “Come sit with me here,” he said.
    Glad he wasn’t dragging her into bed, she obeyed, kneeling on the rug, her face toward the flames. Still, her whole body was tense as he came down beside her. Instead of touching her, he settled himself comfortably, his back propped against the pillows and the wooden chest at the foot of the bad. Stretching out his long legs, he crossed them at the ankles.
    “You’re not what I expected,” she said in a barely audible voice.
    “What did you expect?”
    She spoke hesitantly. “I’ve heard about the way your warriors fight. You kill as many of us as you can. And you fight to the death.”
    “Honor demands it. Your people came here to steal our world from us.”
    She shook her head. “That’s not true. We came by accident. Our ship was badly off course. We crashed, and then we had no way to send a message home. Do you think we would pick a place like this on purpose?”
    “You do not like Jalar?” he asked.
    She raised her chin. “Humankind can adapt to anything.”
    “Your people are proud. It gives you strength.”
    She stared at him, surprised he understood so well.
    Then his eyes narrowed. “But you have no right to steal our planet from us.”
    She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. He was right. If the military force from the ship could have wiped out the Jalarans, they would have.
    “And now your race needs us,” he growled. “It is fortunate that you did not slay all of our warriors. We will give your women children, and you will teach us your technology. That is the agreement. You have things we need. Like the warmth in this room. Also, your medicines, your machines. They told me that you are a . . . botanist? Someone who adapts your plants to our environment.”
    “Yes.”
    “You are studying food productions. And new medicines.”
    She nodded. Her work was exciting to her. It had become her life, the focus of her energy, throughout her dreadful marriage.
    “Still, though I am here, and though we spoke words at a mating ceremony, you have not yet shared your knowledge with us.”
    “I want to,” she answered in a small voice. “The Guardians must approve it.”
    “Will they allow me to learn to be an engineer? I want to build dams that will harness the power of our rivers.”
    “Yes,” she whispered. They had instructed her to tell him what he wanted to hear, but really, she wasn’t sure how much they would let him learn. The Guardians, perhaps of necessity, perhaps out of desperation in their