you anyway."
"That's not true." How could he be so empathic and not see that she liked him? She had never wanted Jax to touch her, but after Vyrl's gentleness last night even the thought of Ironbridge revolted her.
"I knew, damn it!" Vyrl said. "I knew you wanted me to stop last night. You even cried it in your mind." He sat on a hip-high boulder and took another swallow of rum. "Self-delusion is remarkable, isn't it? I convinced myself you wanted me."
"You weren't deluding yourself," she said.
"You think you have to tell me that. Because I bought you." He let the empty bottle slide out of his hand. It hit a half-buried rock and broke into pieces. Watching her, he said, "You aren't bound to me, Kamoj. You're free. I'll have the Ascendant move our base to some other place. We'll tell your people-hell, tell them what? That I went back to my own 'land' and will send for you.
Then we'll send word I've been killed. That way you'll be free of me without being humiliated."
"Killed?" She couldn't believe what he was saying.
"Imperial law recognizes unions made in the colonies, even the rediscovered ones like this. That means we're married by my law as well as yours." He spoke awkwardly. "I'll have someone arrange divorce papers."
How could he speak her language, yet say so much she didn't understand? Enough made sense, though.
He meant to dissolve their merger. The realization stabbed like broken glass. With news of Vyrl's
"death," Jax could claim the widow. Ironbridge would get everything: Argali, the redone palace, Morlin, all of it.
Kamoj went over to him and toed aside the broken bottle. Shyly, she put her arms around his waist.
"Stay with me."
His arms went around her. "You don't have to say that."
"I know." She hesitated. "Unless you want to go."
"Gods, no." His hand moved over her hair. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Even after last night?"
"Especially after last night." She tried to recapture her feeling from then, so he would too.
Rubbing her cheek on his chest, she inhaled his scent. Then she reached for him with her hand, seeking to give to him what he had given her. As she held him, he brushed his lips over the crown of her head and stroked his palm down her back, over her curls. After awhile, he pulled off the scarf she used for a belt and helped her fold it around him. Tensing with his release, he exhaled, then he murmured words from an old Argali harvest song: "'So soft is her touch on grain full with nectar . . .'"
Smiling, Kamoj looked up at him. As he relaxed against her, his eyelids drooped. Their metal lashes made a glittering contrast to the dark circles under his eyes.
"Let's lie down," she said. "I'm tired." She wasn't actually, but Vyrl obviously needed to sleep.
Why he fought so hard against it she had no idea, but perhaps he would do for her what he wouldn't do for himself.
"All right." He straightened his clothes, then stood up and swung off his cloak. It swirled through the air and settled on the ground. As Kamoj sat on it, he watched her like a greenglass mesmerized by night lamps on a coach. "So pretty . . . your dress. That color. What d'you call it?
Rose? 'S nice the way you fill it out-" He suddenly turned red. "Ai. I'm rambling. What an idiot you married."
Kamoj couldn't help but smile at his boyish expression. "No, you aren't. Don't ever say that." She patted the ground. "You lie down. I'll rub your head."
"Won't argue with that." He lay down and put his head in her lap. As she massaged his temples, his eyes closed. Within moments his breathing had settled into the steady rumble of sleep.
Watching Vyrl sleep, Kamoj wondered how to understand him. He spoke like a highborn man, dressed like a farmer, carried a title, had a laborer's callouses, moved like a dancer, and had a stagman's gift with greenglasses. The silver in his hair and the lines around his eyes suggested he had reached his forties, yet he had the powerful physique and vigor of a younger man. His wide-open
"That's not true." How could he be so empathic and not see that she liked him? She had never wanted Jax to touch her, but after Vyrl's gentleness last night even the thought of Ironbridge revolted her.
"I knew, damn it!" Vyrl said. "I knew you wanted me to stop last night. You even cried it in your mind." He sat on a hip-high boulder and took another swallow of rum. "Self-delusion is remarkable, isn't it? I convinced myself you wanted me."
"You weren't deluding yourself," she said.
"You think you have to tell me that. Because I bought you." He let the empty bottle slide out of his hand. It hit a half-buried rock and broke into pieces. Watching her, he said, "You aren't bound to me, Kamoj. You're free. I'll have the Ascendant move our base to some other place. We'll tell your people-hell, tell them what? That I went back to my own 'land' and will send for you.
Then we'll send word I've been killed. That way you'll be free of me without being humiliated."
"Killed?" She couldn't believe what he was saying.
"Imperial law recognizes unions made in the colonies, even the rediscovered ones like this. That means we're married by my law as well as yours." He spoke awkwardly. "I'll have someone arrange divorce papers."
How could he speak her language, yet say so much she didn't understand? Enough made sense, though.
He meant to dissolve their merger. The realization stabbed like broken glass. With news of Vyrl's
"death," Jax could claim the widow. Ironbridge would get everything: Argali, the redone palace, Morlin, all of it.
Kamoj went over to him and toed aside the broken bottle. Shyly, she put her arms around his waist.
"Stay with me."
His arms went around her. "You don't have to say that."
"I know." She hesitated. "Unless you want to go."
"Gods, no." His hand moved over her hair. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Even after last night?"
"Especially after last night." She tried to recapture her feeling from then, so he would too.
Rubbing her cheek on his chest, she inhaled his scent. Then she reached for him with her hand, seeking to give to him what he had given her. As she held him, he brushed his lips over the crown of her head and stroked his palm down her back, over her curls. After awhile, he pulled off the scarf she used for a belt and helped her fold it around him. Tensing with his release, he exhaled, then he murmured words from an old Argali harvest song: "'So soft is her touch on grain full with nectar . . .'"
Smiling, Kamoj looked up at him. As he relaxed against her, his eyelids drooped. Their metal lashes made a glittering contrast to the dark circles under his eyes.
"Let's lie down," she said. "I'm tired." She wasn't actually, but Vyrl obviously needed to sleep.
Why he fought so hard against it she had no idea, but perhaps he would do for her what he wouldn't do for himself.
"All right." He straightened his clothes, then stood up and swung off his cloak. It swirled through the air and settled on the ground. As Kamoj sat on it, he watched her like a greenglass mesmerized by night lamps on a coach. "So pretty . . . your dress. That color. What d'you call it?
Rose? 'S nice the way you fill it out-" He suddenly turned red. "Ai. I'm rambling. What an idiot you married."
Kamoj couldn't help but smile at his boyish expression. "No, you aren't. Don't ever say that." She patted the ground. "You lie down. I'll rub your head."
"Won't argue with that." He lay down and put his head in her lap. As she massaged his temples, his eyes closed. Within moments his breathing had settled into the steady rumble of sleep.
Watching Vyrl sleep, Kamoj wondered how to understand him. He spoke like a highborn man, dressed like a farmer, carried a title, had a laborer's callouses, moved like a dancer, and had a stagman's gift with greenglasses. The silver in his hair and the lines around his eyes suggested he had reached his forties, yet he had the powerful physique and vigor of a younger man. His wide-open
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