LITMIR.BIZ

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as if it held magic.

      Sfilla laughed. “You have been a soldier for many years. Now you must become a Cehn-Tahr aristocrat’s consort, so that you are not identified at Benaski Port as the soldier that you are. That will be my chore, to tutor you.”

      Madeline raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

      Sfilla pursed her lips. “And perhaps you can teach me the art of hand-to-hand combat,” she said, smiling at some private joke.

      Madeline grinned. “Deal!”

      * * *

      LATER, AFTER SHE had bathed and a small meal had been brought to her, she sat in the sunlight filtering through her window and tried to make sense of what had happened. Everyone said that the mating was brutal and barbaric, that Cehn-Tahr women sometimes would forsake bonding because they were so frightened of it. Madeline had not found it barbaric at all, except just at first. She wondered what other females had found so terrifying.

      “Passion,” Dtimun replied to her silent question.

      Her head turned, her expression questioning. He was dressed in robes, as he had been when they attended the Altair reception. He looked elegant.

      She smiled. “You said once that I would have nightmares.”

      He chuckled. “I underestimated you. In many ways.”

      “Sir?”

      He groaned. “Madeline, you must stop referring to me as ‘sir.’ It will arouse suspicion.”

      “Sorry.” She peered up at him. “I really have to stop saluting you, too?”

      He glared at her.

      “Okay, I’ll try. I promise.” She cocked her head. “I thought I might have sprains or broken limbs from the way everybody talked about it,” she said. “It wasn’t brutal. Not as I define brutality.”

      He moved closer. “Cehn-Tahr women dislike physical boldness. A predator attacks weakness.”

      She began to understand. His aggression had diminished when she fought him.

      “Exactly,” he replied. He perched on the edge of the bay window that overlooked the formal garden. His eyes were a soft golden color as they searched hers. “You were not afraid of me.” He pursed his lips and reconsidered. “Well, perhaps a little, at the beginning.”

      “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me deliberately,” she said simply. She glared at him. “Although...”

      “It was unavoidable.” He chuckled softly. “And you were not without defenses,” he added wryly, and held up a forearm with tooth marks to show her.

      “Sorry,” she said with a grin. “It was unavoidable.”

      He smiled. “You bit me as a child when I helped your father rescue you from terrorists,” he reminded her. “I prefer spirit to acquiescence.”

      “Fortunately for you, I’m never acquiescent,” she said.

      He searched her eyes. It was only beginning to occur to him how large a place she occupied in his thoughts, in his life. “You know me as few people ever have,” he said after a minute. “I find it difficult to relate to most outworlders.”

      “I know how you feel. I don’t get along well with most humans,” she agreed. “I’m very fond of Strick and Holt, but even so, I could never talk to them about things I could say to you.”

      That made him feel warm inside. He didn’t like her closeness to the other males, but he didn’t remark on it.

      “Would you have attacked Flannegan, that day in the gym?” she asked abruptly, alluding to an incident that had almost betrayed his need of her to the military authorities, before her nearly fatal crash on Akaashe. It would have cost him his life, if his government had found out.

      “I would have killed him,” he said bluntly. “Possessive behavior is part of the mating ritual. Even now, Stern and Hahnson are not safe if they come near you.” He laughed shortly. “I had to fight my instincts to permit Hahnson to treat you. It was difficult.” His eyes narrowed. “I do not want another male to touch you.”

      She pursed her lips. “I’m glad to hear it, because I would go ballistic if any other female touched you,” she confessed firmly.

      Her possessiveness of him was a delight. He smiled. “Jealousy. It is an odd concept. I have never felt it until now.”

      “It’s just the mating ritual,” she assured him. “When we save Chacon and the princess and the child is gone, and my memory is wiped, you won’t feel it anymore.” She didn’t look at him as she said it. The removal of the child was something that hurt her even to think about. Amazing, since regressing it had been her own solution to the aftermath of their covert mission.

      She felt a tremor in her stomach and put her hand on it with mingled delight and scientific curiosity. The cell division progressed at an exponential rate. Cehn-Tahr babies, she’d learned from researching in the fortress’s extensive library, grew at a vastly accelerated rate. Odd, that there were no pictorial depictions of them in any of the literature, she thought idly. She could not know that Dtimun had ordered the images concealed when he learned of her research efforts.

      “Anything you require will be provided,” he told her. “And Hahnson will be nearby until our departure. I had Mallory sent to the capitol on a pretext so that she will not know of the pregnancy.”

      She nodded. She drew in a long breath. The child was growing quite rapidly, despite the herbs that were meant to retard the growth, and it was painful. She had nausea as well, that became debilitating from time to time. She had to carefully monitor her health. The disparity in sizes between human and Cehn-Tahr was going to be a real problem if the mission lasted longer than expected. “When do we leave for Benaski Port?”

      “In a few days,” he said. “The child must be visible when we arrive there.”

      She looked up, frowning. “Why couldn’t I have pretended to be pregnant?”

      “It would have been discovered. Cehn-Tahr are not the only telepaths in the three galaxies,” he said, surprising her. “The deception, once uncovered, would destroy any chance of saving Chacon and Lyceria.”

      “I see.”

      He was looking at her intently. She lifted her eyes to his and found turbulence in them. “Why are you looking at me that way?” she asked.

      He reached down and touched her hair, smoothing it with his fingers. “What we imagine the future to be is usually quite different from the reality. In another place, another time, many things might have been possible that are not, now,” he said quietly. He stopped, letting the thought trail away, as his voice did.

      She was confused by the feelings he aroused when he looked at her. She shifted in the chair. Her eyes met his again, and were puzzled once more by their burnished gold shade. It was one she’d never seen before.

      “It is a color which is not shown to anyone outside the family,” he explained patiently. “That is why you have not seen it.”

      “Oh.” She laughed, then frowned. “But I have. Your eyes were that color when you rescued me, on Akaashe,” she added, puzzled.

      “A result of the mating behavior,” he lied. It had been more than that, but he didn’t want to think about it just yet. He traced her cheek, his gaze still intent on her face. “So many differences,” he mused. “But in many more ways, we are alike. We must concentrate on the similarities during our time in Benaski Port, so that we do not arouse suspicion.”

      “I don’t suppose you’ll arm me for the mission?” she murmured mischievously.

      He lifted an eyebrow. “Only under threat of immediate attack by squadrons of Rojoks.”

      She sighed. “I might have known.”

      “You

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