She fought what he was making her feel, desperately fought it. She couldn't let him get away with this. She had a stand to make here. But it was impossible. She'd never once been able to resist his kisses before. What made her think now would be any different?

Within moments she was kissing him back. Despite the grievance she should be feeling, and would soon be feeling, here, now, there was only him, a man she absolutely adored-when he wasn't being obnoxiously barbaric. And he certainly wasn't at the moment.

Meticulously, he brought every one of her senses to full awareness, set her pulses racing, frazzled her nerves in anticipation. So quickly, the coiled tension spread through her body. She was trembling, on fire, brought so close to the ultimate pleasure, only to have him soothe it away and start over again.

She told him in countless ways that she was ready, but he was determined to prolong the anticipation, to bring her to such a height of need that she'd probably explode the second he entered her. And then his hands were gone, the heat of his body next to her gone, too. It still took several moments for her to realize he'd actually left the bed.

Coming out of the daze, she sat up, growled, "What the hell was that all about?" But he hadn't just left the bed, he'd already left the room.

Martha was still there, however, and answered cheerfully, "You were just punished."

"How?"

"If you don't know-"

"I'm not kidding, how?"

"Sha-Ka'ani women are highly sexual. Warriors, at least those in this country, figured out long ago that the most harmless way to punish one's lifemate, if needed, was to bring her to an extreme state of desire, then leave her that way to reflect on the error of her ways. Being highly sexual themselves, they can't accomplish this without the help of dhaya juice, which temporarily kills their own sex drive."

Brittany began to laugh. So Dalden had been obnoxiously barbaric after all.

"You find sexual frustration funny?" Martha asked curiously.

"No, but it's not exactly something my people are unfamiliar with. In fact, we self-inflict it on ourselves all the time in the form of dating."

Martha made a snorting sound. "I have your definition of dating and it doesn't include-"

"Hold on, I meant what goes on when two people are getting to know each other. A few dates can lead to heavy petting, with the guy expecting to score, but the girl still undecided, so they both end the date frustrated. They could avoid the heavy petting, but since that's a learning-about-each-other process, too, they typically don't avoid it."

"Trust a low-tech human species to do things the hard way."

"I suppose advanced worlds have figured out easier ways?" Brittany retorted.

"Certainly. Computer-matched compatibility, works like a charm."

"We happen to have computer dating, and I promise you, it doesn't work like a charm."

"Antiquated stuff," Martha scoffed, adding, "and irrelevant to our subject. So the proven effective Kan-is-Tran punishment didn't bother you at all, eh? If that's the case, I'd say you've got such an advantage over that boy it isn't funny."

"How do you figure?"

"The fact that their idea of Punishment doesn't faze you. The fact that he'll be drowning in guilt and the need to make amends every time he has to punish you. I'd say that puts you in the driver's seat."

Seeing it that way, Brittany couldn't help grinning, "You gonna tell him?"

"Me? Now, why would I do that? I happen to like pulling the wool over on these guys. It's just so priceless when their culture conflicts with logic they can't dispute. Makes my day, I tell you."

Brittany snorted this time, to which Martha just chuckled. But after a moment, Martha added, "By the way, Dalden didn't take anything to help him get through that. It's standard for a warrior to at least drink the dhaya juice first. He didn't. He was determined that if you had to suffer, he was going to suffer with you. And your body might be conditioned to shrug that kinda stuff off, but his isn't. At the moment, he's in a good deal of discomfort. He continues to impress me, that boy, with the depth of his caring. Has he told you he loves you yet?"

"No."

"He may never say the actual words, but you needn't doubt it now.

Brittany smiled to herself. No, she didn't doubt it at all.

« ^ »

BRITTANY WASN'T SURE HOW TO DEAL WITH JORRAN, High King of Century III. She'd been briefed more thoroughly on the way to the room where he was waiting, about why he was there and what he had hoped to accomplish. He'd had every intention of more or less kidnapping her and forcing her to become his queen. He'd had every intention of killing Dalden, too, if he could have found him with her.

He'd brought a modern weapon with him this time to do it, since his razor sword hadn't been effective the last time they fought. It was what he'd killed the sa'abo with, without having to get close to it, and it horrified her that he could have killed Dalden just as easily with it.

He hadn't been let inside the castle with that weapon, but he'd agreed to come unarmed into the enemy's camp, so he could speak with Brittany. She'd been warned that he would probably try to talk her into leaving with him. She'd been warned not to trust anything he had to say, that duplicity was second nature to someone like him, who would say or do anything to accomplish his goals.

Jorran's relatives had already gone home. Martha had done no more than park the Androvia in the middle of their fleet of ships to make them rethink their demands. Considering that all twenty-three ships could fit inside the Androvia's cargo bay, there hadn't been much to think about. The Centurians were a medieval people, and they recognized when they were outclassed and outgunned.

Challen hadn't been all that thrilled with the peaceful outcome of the "invasion." But when the Ly-San-Ters had become indebted to Jorran, that had pretty much ended any retaliatory sword practicing.

Dalden also couldn't do as he would have liked, which was to make sure Jorran never bothered them again in a more final way this time. Brittany was learning that warriors here weren't called warriors just because it sounded good. They could defend, exact retribution, and conquer just like anyone else, only they could do it in a big way if provoked.

She was left alone with him. Well, not really alone, since she had Martha's link with her. It had been Jorran's request, that privacy, and Martha wasn't going to reveal herself unless she had to. Dalden had refused to allow Brittany to get anywhere near Jorran without Martha's presence. He wasn't the least bit happy that she was being allowed to see him at all. It had taken his father to get him to agree to it. And all because of the debt they owed Jorran.

It was Brittany's debt, actually. She was well aware of that. He'd saved her life. There was no getting around the fact that she'd be dead if he hadn't found her. So in an odd way, she could be grateful that he'd tried to kidnap her. How weird.

She waited for him to speak first. He looked nothing like the Jorran she'd met at home. He was wearing clothes from his own country, which included a fur-trimmed royal cloak, a long fancy tunic, and high boots. He looked now exactly like what he was, a medieval king, and his own clothing suited him much better than a business suit.

He must have been thinking something along the same lines because his first remark to her was, "Their barbaric clothing does not suit you. I would dress you in fine silks befitting a queen."