The Star Princess (32 page)

She hugged her bathrobe around her and sat lightly on the edge of the bed. Ché closed the comm. "That was my advisor."

"What did he say? How did he sound?"

"Quite surprised." He appeared to be puzzling something out. "I wished I could have given him the reason for my sudden change of heart. He has been with me since I was a boy. He deserves to know."

"I almost wish someone did," she admitted. "Then this engagement might feel real."

Ché walked around the bed and sat next to her. "It is real," he vowed, holding her close long enough to assure her that his feelings for her went beyond sexual. A man and a woman could tell each other anything they wanted, but unspoken communication like this said more about a relationship, about feelings, than words could.

After the cuddling had steadied them both, they moved apart. "You're worried about something," she accused. It amazed her how easily she could read his expressions now. "Klark?"

She saw his jaw stiffen. "Hoe did say a few things about my brother that disturbed me."

Her heart sped up. "Like what?"

"That Klark is acting agitated, that he is openly obsessed with the possibility of a relationship developing between us, and that he broods about it constantly. Hoe said nothing more, probably because he doesn't want to upset me, and seemed to be sorry he had said anything at all. Hoe overprotects me, he does. As for Klark, he has always intimidated Hoe, and I think rather enjoys it." Che's mouth twisted. "It follows that I am used to Hoe exaggerating reports of my brother's behavior. In other words, I am not worried, and I don't want you to be, either, Ilana. Even if what Hoe says is true, and Klark wishes me to stay away from you, what more can he do about it but grumble and gnash his teeth as a prisoner in the palace?"

What more could he do? A lot. She kept that opinion to herself only because she felt caught between her feelings for Ché and the sociopath brother he loved. But the thought of Klark being "obsessed," even if it was an exaggeration, made her skin crawl. The last time Klark got fanatical about anyone— her brother— he'd almost killed him. If she were a brain surgeon instead of a filmmaker, she'd give Klark Vedla a preemptive lobotomy, free of charge. "How long before you have to leave?"

"My advisor tells me a starspeeder will arrive at Los Angeles Intergalactic in approximately four Earth days. That includes the usual half-day to clear ESPAC customs."

"Wow. That's fast."

"There were several Vedla craft, in fact, outside the solar system. Luck was on our side."

Or was it bad luck? A dreadful second sense nagged at her, a sick feeling that once Ché arrived within the sphere of influence of his family, he'd come to his senses and marry the woman they'd picked for him. A woman who didn't dream of making movies before she bred heirs.

A tap on the tip of her nose with a scolding finger startled her. "That is far too somber an expression for what I intend to do to you in this bed," he said in that sexy voice she felt right down to her toes.

She tried to make light of the cold, sick feeling of helplessness in the pit of her stomach. "Oh, I was just thinking how much I don't want to go back to dating the Coles of the world and storing their dog bowls in my kitchen."

"We will not be apart for long."

"No. Take me with you." She pressed her fingertips to his mouth before he could argue. "Hear me out. I have the perfect plan."

His mouth turned down with that familiar here-we-go-again exasperation.

"Come on, Ché. You know I'm not the waiting type. It'd drive me crazy, sitting here for who knows how long, waiting to see what your family decides." have decided," he mumbled past her fingers.

"I know. But if our marriage is really the perfect union, then why didn't your father or anyone else in the Vedla family figure it out a long time ago, hmm? I think they're going to try to change your mind."

He tried to talk, but she wouldn't let him.

"Oh, you'll protest at first," she went on. "You'll try to explain what you have to me already, how we'll unite the B'kahs and the Vedlas, beat Ian to the altar, blah, blah, blah. But if they really, truly protest your choice in wives, what then? Are you going to look your father in the eye and tell him you're choosing an Arizona-born Air Force brat over eleven thousand years of tradition?" Ché mumbled something unintelligible past her fingers. "Maybe you would. But I won't let you. I won't cause that kind of rift in your family. That's why I'm coming. Not to interfere, but to be nearby. If it comes down to 'Hasta la vista, baby, sorry it didn't work out,' you're damn well going to say it in person."

While Ché puzzled over her move reference, she grumbled, "Now, would you please hush up a minute so I can finish telling you about my plan?"

Amusement glinted in his eyes. She heard a weary sigh of resignation rumble in his chest.

"Rose Brungard gave us the perfect excuse to travel together. I'm making a feature documentary on Hollywood's efforts to woo the Vash Federation, right? I'm a frontier filmmaker sympathetic to the Vash, and you, Ché, are known for your progressive thinking. Naturally, you invited me to go along with you to the Wheel— in a gesture of goodwill and out of your desire to further unite the frontier with central, settled space."

She felt the muscles tugging at his mouth change from irritation to surprise. All those conversations with Ian had paid off, she thought. Til be going as an official guest of the Vedlas. Not a fiancee, not a threat, but a filmmaker. That part's real, Ché. I really do intend to chronicle the film industry's efforts to reach the Federation audience, two different cultures, clashing and also connecting." She traced the outline of his lips, "like us, babe."

Many emotions crossed his face— exasperation, admiration, tenderness, and something deeper, something that made her heart give a little hitch. He grasped her hand and lowered it. "I am beginning to think that in your past, you must have had a Vedla ancestor."

She smiled. "I can scheme with the best of you, can't I?"

"Not only does your plan allow me to keep you close by, it ensures against family embarrassment. Should Rose Brungard release any information to the media about seeing us here, we will have a ready excuse. Will you be able to get prepared in the time we have left?"

"I'll make it happen. Tomorrow I'll meet with everyone at SILF and work out the production schedule.

Linda will come with me, if she can go. And I'll need to bring extra equipment, too___Will there be room in the speeder?" Her stomach wobbled. "I don't want to overload the thing."

"Speeders have room for a goodly number of passengers and cargo, depending on the model, although they are much smaller than the type of craft in which you traveled to your mother's wedding."

"Oh, good." She let out a breath. "Size matters. In this case, the smaller the better. I hate flying in huge ships and airliners. It's like lying in bed in a big house all by yourself at night— you're trying not to think too hard about what's lurking in the shadows waaay downstairs and out of sight."

He tucked a curl behind her ear. "You think too much, Ilana."

"I know. Distract me."

Che's mouth slowly curved in a very male, totally self-assured smile. His gaze dipped to the cleavage revealed by her loosely tied robe, and then returned to her eyes. His voice deepened. "Come here," he said.

She scooted closer. Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her to him in a heated kiss. One warm, dry hand slid up her leg and under the tenycloth fabric covering her thigh. Almost immediately, her body was ready for him.

But even as Ché lowered her to the silken sheets, her thoughts returned to the Vedla ships lurking so opportunely at the perimeter of Earth space. Safeguarding their prized prince from afar? Probably. But it made for a convenient on-call taxi service, and their best chance at getting to the Wheel quickly enough to derail Che's marriage to the handpicked princess. For the first time, Ilana found herself blessing, not cursing, the almost frightening efficiency of Ché Vedla's family.

Klark reached the end of the balcony and turned on his heel, beginning the long walk back to the opposite side.

Unfortunately, his restlessness would see no release in a woman's body tonight. By the terms of his sentence, he could not partake of the services of the pleasure servers while in custody. So his unrelenting impatience kept him pacing long after the third moon had risen.

Ché was on his way at last. At first, Klark expected he'd remain on Earth until the last possible moment, but Ché had suddenly reversed that decision. Why, though? Was he not enamored of the Earth princess? Had he not fallen for her charms? What was going through his brother's mind? The questions consumed Klark, and he had summoned Hoe to discuss them. While he waited for the advisor to arrive, he paced.

By coming home, was Ché giving in to the vow he'd made regarding his upcoming nuptials? Or did he have something else up his sleeve? What if he came home and did not listen to Klark's advice?

Klark drained the glass of ale he carried and threw it over the edge of the balcony. The invisible shield bowed outward like a soap bubble, then burst in a sparkle of lavender, allowing the heavy drinking glass the freedom to sail downward. It was night, and the beach was too far below for Klark to hear the glass shatter. The shield repaired itself instantly. Almost as fast, three guards burst into the chamber. "Lord Klark!"

Klark leaned lazily against the railing, observing them through slitted eyes. "I dropped a glass, gentlemen. That is all."

"Yes, my lord."

He could tell by their troubled expressions that they thought it was he who had taken the suicide plunge over the edge.

Fools, he thought as they retreated from his view. Why did they always mistake his ambition for madness? He was not ready to end his life in any form or fashion. Especially when he had an older brother whose activities so plainly begged for his input.

When Hoe arrived at last, Klark somehow refrained from rushing to the door. He detested being isolated from the goings-on of the council, having to rely on Hoe for every morsel of news. In the past, Ché had kept him informed, but his holiday had left Klark dangling. "When will he arrive?"

"Lord Ché is traveling directly to the Wheel to see your father." Hoe took a breath. "He is bringing Princess Ilana with him."

The force of the news hit Klark like the incoming tide. But he kept his face carefully blank, a skill the Vedla men had inherited from their resilient ancestors. He took a seat at the table of petrified amber. "Go on."

"Sir, it seems the princess is traveling with another woman— someone from her staff, I believe, who of course will need Federation approval to disembark at the Wheel. In such cases, a background check is required, and these things take time. That is the reason I'm tardy in meeting with you tonight, sir. Lord Ché asked me to see where the woman's request is in the system, and then to speed it along, if I could."

"Do it. I don't want an unplanned-for outsider complicating matters. Or, better yet, Hoe, make alternate travel arrangements for the staffer."

"I have."

"Ah. Good." The man, irritating as he was, was a master of efficiency.

The princess and her staffer will travel separately. I have just now informed the prince. Let us sing praises to the heavens that Lord Ché agreed, for he didn't want the princess to travel on her own." Hoe was aglow with self-congratulation. "It took some doing, but he saw the necessity after I reiterated the importance of his swift return."

"What did you tell the poor man— that the Lesok princess was already being fitted for her ceremonial gown?"

Hoe's smile curved smugly. "More or less."

Klark shook his head. At times like these, he was glad he wasn't the Vedla heir. As second-born son, he'd never have to many if he didn't care to.

"Ah, but this is all falling into place so well. Bringing Ché home separately from the princess will work out for the best. It will give me the chance to deal with him outside the princess's influence. I often wondered whether the Great Mother had abandoned me," he admitted in a rare air of generosity toward the advisor. "Particularly after the Hamilton fiasco in the frontier and its aftermath. But this— this proves She has not. Our quarry has all but jumped into our hands. I fretted for nothing. Now everything will appear to have happened naturally."

"Or rather, accidentally," Hoe added with a conspiratorial smile.

"Accidentally?" Klark raised his brows. "I suppose that is one way of putting it," he agreed lightly.

"But what are semantics when the results are the same?"

He wanted to believe Hoe felt as he did. But the man was speaking in riddles and half-finished thoughts as if he hoped Klark would finish them. But

Klark would not fall into that trap. "You have given this much thought, Hoe— that much is obvious." Klark waved at the empty chair across from him. "Tell me what that resourceful little mind of yours has conjured up."

Bright with excitement, Hoe took a seat across from him at the table of petrified tree sap. As the man unveiled the arrangements he had made, Klark held his tongue— at first, out of the belief drilled into him by his father that the best tacticians did not discount input from their subordinates, and then out of sheer awe.

He had seriously underestimated Hoe.

Long after the advisor had left him alone, Klark remained sitting at the table with its fossilized menagerie. With their mouths pulled back in grins of rigor mortis, the creatures imprisoned within the amber table appeared to smirk at Klark's glaring miscalculation.

Hoe's tactics went far beyond anything Klark had considered, even in his darkest, most inspired moments. Who would have thought that this cherubic and efficient counselor to a future king would possess such a gloriously cruel mind, and the capacity to devise such macabre ideas?

No matter. With Hoe's plan under way, Klark was going to tweak it just enough to put control back into his hands, and he would do it by making sure he got to the princess before Hoe did.