The Star Princess (40 page)

"Suck it up or leave." Ché cracked a smile and imagined the expressions that would have appeared on the faces of the dour, elderly councilmen he'd met with tonight if he had followed Ilana's advice. A chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. That was precisely why he was the one in the family who handled political mediation, and Ilana… well, she tackled diplomacy of a different sort. But however unconventional, Ilana's contributions to their society were no less important.

It was for that reason that he did not wish to be late. He increased his pace. No, not tonight of all nights when the future wobbled in a delicate balance. What was about to transpire might very well determine its course.

His personal future.

He, one of the richest men alive, heir to the longest known unbroken line of kings, did not wish to spend the eve of his third wedding anniversary— a celebration that was so very important to his Earth-born bride— in the "dog house."

Ché turned the comer and headed into the buzz of activity outside the Grand Parlor. A red carpet sliced across the expanse of pure white stone. It formed a path for hundreds of invited guests, many of them celebrities from Earth, funneling them into the theater for the premiere of SILF Filmwork's first Federation film.

Ché halted, scanning the vast room. Some guests he recognized as studio heads, actors, and directors from past meetings arranged by Ilana. Others were Vash dignitaries. Ah, and there were Ilana's colleagues: Linda, Flash, Slavica, Leslie. Yes, and his brother Klark, too, who like the guests themselves, was a study in contrasts, dressed in the traditional Vedla way as he sipped from a glass filled with an Earth concoction called a "martini."

In the sea of faces, Ché found Ilana's immediately. He nodded, pleased, as she smiled back, extending one arm, her fingers wriggling. A flush of pure pleasure warmed him, and he began to stride toward her. They hadn't lost that special ability to find each other in a crowd, or that spark of recognition on an elemental level when their gazes met, a spark that had flared from the moment they first saw each other. It had not dimmed, that fire. And it only confirmed that he'd done the right thing when he'd listened to the rogue in him and decided on a trip to Earth rather than an arranged marriage.

Ché disappeared into the crowd, moving past strangers and associates, staff and Earth celebrities, shaking those hands extended toward him, returning myriad greetings and niceties, smiling for photos and holo-images and news cameras with none of the impatience he felt trying to reach his wife. As he closed on her, his chest clenched at her beauty. Ilana's long black dress hugged her curves. Her hair and eyes and the sea-hued jewels he'd bought her for this special night, which she now wore around her neck, glowed in contrast. This was her night, he thought. He would make it one to remember.

Before she had the chance to greet him, he swept one hand behind her head, pulling her into a kiss. Pleased murmurs rumbled all around them; cameras illuminated the scene. Ché pretended nothing existed but the two of them, as he often did in a life that demanded incalculable amounts of his time.

As he moved away, he let his fingertips drag down her throat. "Luscious… " he whispered huskily into her ear, noting smugly that she reacted with a shiver of delight. She might be his independent, ambitious, activist wife, but he could still turn her into putty.

They moved apart but remained close. "Congratulations," he told her as they posed for photos. "You have assembled an impressively eclectic crowd."

Ilana grinned. "Yeah, well. Who would have thought I'd be such a good ambassador?"

"A talent needed by a Minister of Federation and Hollywood Affairs."

For once, Ilana didn't scoff at her official title. She slipped her hand into his and gave his fingers a squeeze, smiling at those gathering around them. Ché heard the laughter of children, and he turned to find the source of the sound. "We even have a contingent from Thorme in attendance," he noted. A large, gregarious group from a planet so few ever left included Muffin, the former B'kah bodyguard, his Earth-born wife Copper and their young family. "How they created so many children in such a short a time, I can't help but wonder," Ché commented.

"How?" Ilana laughed, glancing up at him. "I think you know." Her cheeks were aglow and her eyes mischievous. She looked as if she were about to say something more but changed her mind.

He watched her warily— he knew her too well to believe everything she left unsaid was insignificant. But she diverted his attention by tugging on his hand. The crowd was filing into the brand-new Vedla Theater. "Come on," she said, leading him toward the red carpet. "It's showtime."

Ché woke in his royal bedchamber with the warm, nude body of his lover held in his arms. They'd slept as one, limbs twined, hearts beating in unison.

A breeze fresh off the sea flooded the room. Ché pulled sheets of red Nandan silk higher to shield bare skin from damp, almost chilly air. As he did so, a suntanned, long-fingered hand slid up his thigh to his waist. "Good morning, luscious," he murmured into a mop of fragrant, bleached-blond hair tousled from a blistering round of late-night lovemaking.

Something between a grunt and a sigh met his greeting. Though they'd been exhausted upon returning to their bedchamber after the successful premiere, their celebratory mood had given them energy they didn't think they'd have. "It's not every day that you live your dream," Ilana had reasoned, eagerly coaxing him to the limits of his sexual stamina.

Now, Ché watched with amused interest as she scratched her fingernails down his chest and over the muscles on his abdomen. The teasing touches brought an aching, sweet heat to his loins, and a need for completion that he satisfied immediately by rolling Ilana beneath him and thrusting deep. "Wait," she protested breathlessly. "I have a present for you."

"Ah, but you have already given me your greatest gift. The gift of your woman's body."

Ilana snorted and then laughed. "Once a Vash, always a Vash— — -"

Ché plunged deeper and remained there, drawing from Ilana a soft cry of pleasure. "Yes," he said roughly. "Always a Vash." He gripped her buttocks, pressing her close. "Always a Vedla."

He moved inside her, just how he knew she liked it, watching with pleasure when his wife's head fell back onto the pillow, her fingers gripping his shoulders. Then she inhaled on a hiss. "You're making this more difficult than it has to be."

He lifted his head. "Difficult?" It seemed anything but that to him.

Ilana gave him a you'll-see sigh, reached behind her head and withdrew a small silken bag from under the pillow. "I meant to give this to you last night, but we got… sidetracked. Before it happens again, open it".Ché held himself still. Her knees pressed firmly against his hips as she handed him the little sack. "Here."

Supporting his weight with one elbow, still buried inside his wife's body, he took the bag. "Open it," she cajoled, tugging on the ribbon.

Watching her expression, he did as she asked, wondering what she had in mind. He was the one who most often gave spontaneous little gifts, not Ilana. From the silken sack, he pulled a woven object. "It is… a sea finch nest?" Ché glanced from the creation of straw and twigs in his palm to the smiling face of his wife.

"If only you could see your expression," she said, love shining in her eyes. At his silence, she covered his hand with hers and said, "Yes, Ché, it's a nest." She waggled her brows.

The significance of the little gift exploded inside him. Nesting. She'd always called it that, the desire to have children that she'd put aside while she concentrated on her career.

She wanted to start a family. She was ready to bear his children. Joy flared inside him, chased by a sharp rush of desire. He throbbed, deep inside her body, and bit back a groan.

"I think we should start a family, Ché."

"Now?"

Ilana laughed huskily. Her warm hands cupped his buttocks as her pelvis tipped up. "Unless you want to wait… "

"Wait? Hell no," he half-growled, taking her with renewed passion.

By traditional Vedla standards, this woman was totally unsuitable. An uncultured frontierswoman. Undisciplined and willful. A woman he now knew was the shining example of everything he'd ever wanted in a mate. Under an ever-changing three-dimensional holographic image of clouds drifting across a windswept sky, he made love to her, his wife, both of them intent on creating the first of a new generation of Vedlas, a brood that would bring them both joy for the rest of their lives and who, Ché suspected, would someday rock the very foundation of the Vash Nadah. Of course. Ilana Hamilton B'kah Vedla always insisted on a happy ending.