The Star Princess (29 page)

The fascinated attention she paid to the area so close to his privates embarrassed Ché not at all. He was as comfortable in the buff as he was clothed. "It is a sea-raptor," he explained, looking downward. "An ancient aerial predator. It lives only on Eireya, and feeds only on creatures bom in our seas. It is the symbol of my family."

"Do all the Vedla men have these tattoos?"

He shook his head. "Firstborn sons only. You may have noticed that the other clans, like you B'kahs, use signet rings to identify the heirs. We don't. This is why. We are marked at puberty like this, instead."

While she'd been playing girls' soccer and suffering through braces, Ché was enduring eons-old coming-of-age rituals. It was at times like these that she realized how different their upbringings were.

Ilana bent forward, touching her fingertip to the sea-raptor. Che's stomach muscles contracted, and his penis gave an interested twitch. "Oops," she said, smiling.

He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. Her stomach pressed against his damp, freshly washed skin. "Not 'oops,' " he corrected.

Heat pooled in her lower belly, carnal anticipation of what was to come, as he lowered his mouth to hers and—

Beep, beep, beep. Che's damn comm call chimed from somewhere in the other room.

They groaned and moved apart. "Haven't you called them back yet?" she asked.

"No." He sighed. "I was going to wait. But they are persistent."

Her heart skipped a beat. "Maybe something's wrong. Your family. Someone might be sick."

He shook his head as he searched out the comm device he'd thrown out of the way earlier. "Ian would have relayed the message, if that were the case, and he would have at least tried to call your cell phone. Any illness or death, or birth or marriage for that matter, in any of the eight families is immediately reported to the Great Council, and then forwarded to the B'kahs. Trust me, whatever this is will be something that could have waited. And should have," he added irritably.

"I hope so," Ilana said under her breath, noting the reluctance with which he drew on his underwear and jeans.

He opened the comm. His face formed immediately into a frown. "Yes, Hoe."

Ilana backed up. "I'll be in the shower." She had the feeling that while he wouldn't demand it, he'd rather have his privacy. Taking her clothes with her, she ducked into the bathroom.

One long, luxurious, steamy shower later, she emerged dressed in a fresh robe, a thick towel wrapped around her hair.

The room-service attendant had come and gone, apparently. Ché sat in one of the chairs at the dining table, the one with the vase of sunflowers they'd almost toppled. He was the picture of laid-back sophistication as he sipped from a glass of red wine, staring into space.

Her glass waited, full. She took it, sat in the chair next to him, and sniffed the fragrant air. "Mmm. Smells like steak."

"Filet," he confirmed. "With baby asper… aspar— " He sighed. "Those little green stalks with the odd tops."

"Asparagus," she supplied.

"Yes." He seemed preoccupied. "It was the meal they were serving the guests in the dining room tonight. It was all they would serve."

"Then we lucked out. I love steak, and I love asparagus." She lifted the lids off the plates. Delicious smells made her mouth water. "Ooh. The chef has a hollandaise sauce fetish. I love him." She began to serve the food as Ché watched absently.

She put down the utensils, folded her arms, and leaned forward. "It's the comm call, isn't it? Your advisor. What did he want?"

"He asked me to come home." Ché lifted his half-f glass of wine to the overhead light, studying the color. Then he downed what remained in two deep swallows before he turned back to her. "It seems they have found me a wife."

Chapter Nineteen

"Ché refused to return home?" Klark demanded when Hoe burst into his chambers the next day with the news. "He wishes to remain on Earth?" As hard as he tried, Klark couldn't imagine Ché abandoning Eireya for good, his tolerance toward the frontier barbarians notwithstanding. Klark knew his older brother better than that.

"Banish the thought, sir." Hoe rubbed his hand over his face. "But he wants to delay his return journey. He wouldn't tell me how long he wants to remain… there. 'We have plenty of time left,' he told me." Hoe dropped his hand and added, "I was afraid of this, my lord."

"I have to say that I anticipated it, too." "It's all because of the Earth princess." "Of course it is." Klark rolled his eyes. "Did you think that he went there for the coffee?" "My lord?" "Never mind." Stroking his chin, Klark regarded Che's agitated advisor. "We must not let emotion overcome us. The Treatise of Trade tells us that the unexpected brings opportunity. Let us discern the opportunity in this, and take advantage."

At Klark's admonition, Hoe visibly forced himself to relax. "Prince Ché is like a son to me. I want only the best for him."

"And that is what we will win for him." Klark clasped his hands behind his back. Confidence swelled inside him as a plan unfolded— in detail. It seemed his brother had unwittingly simplified his task. "First, Hoe, we let our heartsick Prince Haj continue to divert everyone's attention in the Great Council while we think this through."

"Yes! While everyone's attention is elsewhere, we will act. You need not do this alone. We share a common goal, do we not, my lord? As Prince Che's advisor, I have much to offer. Tell me your plans. I… I can help."

Hoe sounded both eager and nervous, as if he didn't fully trust Klark. Which was too bad. But Klark didn't quite trust Hoe either. "All right, then. Let us take time to think. Return here tonight, and we will discuss what options our meditations have illuminated." Then, with a wave of his hand, Klark dismissed him.

Something about Che's advisor made Klark's senses prickle. It was the feeling he might have in Bajha with an opponent who didn't parry as predicted. It told Klark that, as yet, he shouldn't be certain on which side of the line the advisor fell when it came to ensuring that Che's future took its proper course. Was Hoe his ally or enemy? Before Klark divulged his true intentions regarding the Earth princess, he'd have to be sure.

"A wife." Ilana let her back sag into the wicker chair. The meal didn't look as yummy as it had a minute ago. "So, what does that mean?"

Ché steepled his fingers on top of the table, gazing at them as he spoke. "It means we must talk."

"Ah, the big talk," she said flatly. It had always been she who gave the kiss-off speech when ending a relationship. It was weirdly nauseating to finally end up on the other side. She tried to sound light and cheery, but she felt about as buoyant as an old brick. "I mean, we knew this was coming. We knew you'd have to marry."

"Yes, but— "

"Then we're done. We've talked. Now, let's eat." She chose the bigger of the two filets and speared it with a fork. "Hand me your plate." At the dangerous look in his eyes, she lowered the fork. "What is there to talk about? Nothing's changed."

"You are right. The feelings I have for you have not changed. Nor have yours. I know— you have given me the proof. If what happened in that bedchamber, the lovemaking, had been a lie, you would not be trying to change the subject."

"Yeah… well." Sheepishly she stuck her hands in her lap. "Why do I suddenly feel like the kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar?"

Ché shook his head. "Cookie… jar?"

"It means you're right. I was trying to avoid this talk." She braced herself. "So do it. Say it. They found you a wife, and now they want you to come home." She forced herself to ask, "When are you leaving?"

"I did not say. I merely accepted the information as it was passed to me and left matters vague as to when I would return to Eireya."

"Vague? I bet your advisor had a cow." Before Che could call her on her slang, she said, "Isn't your advisor upset?"

Ché jerked his hands in the air. "Let him be! For all the good it will do him." Che's outward emotion surprised her. He wasn't one to let show what he felt inside. "I did not say I would refuse to marry. I only declined to scurry home at their command. I did that to give us time, Ilana. Time to think."

Think. Ugh! She already analyzed everything to death. Ché was as bad as she was. "Everything was fine until you got involved with me, and now you don't know what to do. Right?"

"I know one thing: I do not want to marry Princess Jienn."

"Ah. The lucky girl who won the lottery." The bitterness underlying her light tone surprised her. She had never been the possessive type, but the idea of giving Ché over to another woman lit the fire of jealousy in Ilana's stomach.

"I will wed her if I must. But if I have a choice— if you allow me a choice… and the honor— I would rather marry you."

Whoa. Her ears started ringing. The pulse pounding in her throat built to a crescendo. A future. With Ché Vedla, lord of the Vash Nadah. Gah. She tried to remember to breathe.

Frantically she reached for a glass of wine and gulped down half of it. Their cooling dinner lay on plates all around them. "Gah," she choked out, putting down the glass. "We need more time to think about this."

"We do not have the luxury of more time." Ché spread his hands on the table. Those hands were sinewy and strong. On the middle finger of the right one, a scar marred his knuckle. Childhood pranks or swordplay? Ilana wondered. Those same hands had so passionately excited her, and afterward, tenderly held her. In a way, those hands represented how much she knew about him, and how much she didn't. "It is why we must talk with nothing between us. No ulterior motives, no feints, no false sentiments. It must be as it was when we made love. Do you remember that, Ilana? Do you remember how it was with us, only a few hours ago?"

How could she forget? "Of course I do, babe," she whispered.

Babe. It had just slipped out. Tender, unexpected.

Che's answering expression melted her heart. He hadn't put back his contacts. His eyes were pale gold and totally open. She could see straight through him. She, on the other hand, was desperately trying to hold a screen in front of her feelings. It was getting flimsier by the minute, but she was afraid to take it down completely. "You have feelings for me," he said, gauging her reaction.

She fidgeted in her chair. "I have so many feelings that I don't know what they all are yet."

He spoke soothingly. "I am not asking you to sort them out now."

But she knew she wasn't going to get off easy in this conversation. And she wasn't sure she wanted to. This wasn't like the other "are we going to get serious or not?" talks from her past. With Ché, she wanted him to know how she felt… if she could express it; sometimes she was better with cameras than she was with words. "I do know this," she offered. "You're the first man I've ever imagined wanting to be with in a permanent… you know, a permanent comm— " She licked her dry lips. "Commit— "

Ché smiled. "Commitment."

"Yeah. That."

"It is not so hard a word to say once you practice, Ilana."

"Commitment," she mumbled.

He put his hand to his ear.

"Commitment!" she said, louder.

"Better."

She sat back, smirking as she shook her head in amazement. "You are amazing. You can take me when I'm this serious, when I'm this tense and obsessive, and still make me smile." She grew more serious. "You balance me, Ché. You steady me. For that reason alone, I could fall in love with you, given a little more time."

"Thank you," he murmured.

She forced herself to meet his eyes. "For what?"

"For not turning me down outright." Unexpectedly, the ends of his mouth curved. "You give me hope."

She snorted. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. "Stop it. You're making me laugh again. I don't feel like laughing. I feel like having a panic attack. You want to talk? Then let's talk. Before I pass out from nerves"— she eyed her nearly empty glass of wine— "or the Merlot."

"Ilana, I know and admire your ambition. But I also know that you desire something more than your career. You want a mate and, someday, children. In that, as in many other ways, we are the same. We want to achieve our professional goals, but we want a satisfactory private life, too."

Stubbornly she shook her head. "Satisfactory isn't good enough, Ché. I want more than that. I want real happiness. I know it's out there. Look at my mother and Rom. They didn't settle. Seven years and counting and they're still happy— blissfully, over-the-moon happy. I want to have what they have. I want the person I'm with to feel that way about me, too. Yes, happiness cycles. There has to be trust, also, to keep it going. Trust is what makes for a stable home life. It's what keeps you from worrying that it'll all disappear the minute you turn your back. I want a man who won't betray me, who won't lie, who will want to protect me, to keep me safe. But one who won't be threatened by my independence and, if it comes, my success. I… I want everything I didn't have when I was growing up."

Che's eyes were molten gold. "I can give you that. I can give you what you want, Ilana."

Her throat thickened. "Your culture can give me that. But can you, Ché? Think about it. It's not the trust— that's not the issue. I never would have gone up in that airplane otherwise, and I sure as hell wouldn't be having this conversation, either, if I didn't trust you. To be blunt, I don't know which is scarier, the flying or this." Under her robe, she felt suddenly chilled. She hugged her arms to her ribs. "Everyone knows me as a party girl. Even my family. I love to have a good time; I love socializing. You've seen it firsthand."

He smiled. "Indeed."

"But I'm too much of a striver to be just a party girl. It's too frivolous a life, and I'm too goal-oriented. For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to craft original films and to be successful at it. Ever since we talked about bringing Hollywood-type entertainment to the Vash, I've known that'll be my life's work. It comes down to this, Ché. I'm ambitious, and so are you. On top of that, I'm creative, and that complicates it more. It's not unusual for me be totally distracted by a script, or to stay up all night developing an idea. Do you really, truly want a wife who has interests outside the nursery?"