LINDSEY Johanna - Heart of Warrior Read online

  I attached to his ear, reminding Brittany that they weren’t

  was still alone. “I am told you require asking, that I cannot decide the matter for you as I should.”

  “What are we talking about now?” she demanded.

  “A difference in our cultures, one I find unacceptable. Asking can be done, but if the answer is not the right one, the question will be withdrawn and the matter seen to in the proper ShaKa’ani way.”

  She had the distinct feeling he wasn’t talking to her just then, but to Martha. His own annoyance was sensed, rather than reflected in tone or expression, but it was still crystal‑clear to her. He hadn’t liked the interruption from Martha any more than she had.

  She had to wonder why he hadn’t spoken to Miss Coach earlier. If the woman could hear every word they said, and was speaking to him through that earphone, wouldn’t it have been much easier for him to have simply asked Martha for clarification of the things he’d been having trouble with last night, rather than making her guess what he needed to know?

  Brittany knew to the second when his attention was fully back on her. His eyes absorbed her. His body seemed to as well, and, oh my, that bulge was back. He even shifted her and pressed her against it in that very spot that nature had intended it to go.

  Swirls of desire took flight in her belly, so it was like a dash of ice water when she heard from him, “What is the meaning of bee‑ess?”

  She managed to get off him this time. Thrusting an elbow into his belly for leverage helped.

  “I know you can hear me, Martha. So why don’t you explain that one to him,” Brittany growled as she stomped off to the kitchen to make coffee and call Arbor. The spa would have to wait a few more hours until it opened.

  She had that flare of passion under control again by the time she turned back toward the living room with the coffee cups in hand. She didn’t get far. Dalden was blocking the doorway, a normal-sized bath towel around his neck that seemed more like a hand towel around that neck, his tunic removed. Not enough time had passed for him to have showered, nor did he look clamp, he just looked good, too good, good enough for her to want to meld with that body of his.

  She’d already seen a good portion of his chest through the gap his tunic made, but it was nothing like seeing it all. The man was simply too huge. She’d never seen anything like his size before, not even in pictures. Without the height, he’d look really weird; with it, he simply looked gigantic. A fantasy giant came to mind, wielding a club as big as he was. She would have smiled at her own fancy if she wasn’t so mesmerized by all that bare, golden skin.

  No stressed muscles or overly taut skin to accommodate them, just natural bulges in his relaxed pose, the difference being that everything was oversized to begin with. And those arms, bigger than anything she could have imagined when they’d been concealed by his loose sleeves. The kind of strength represented by them had to be amazing. She wondered if they were registered as lethal weapons. And yet they’d held her with tenderness through the night. Her gentle giant.

  She did smile this time, but had it and her fanciful thoughts wiped clear away when Dalden remarked, “Martha says that as long as you have spoken to her directly, you may be allowed to hear her voice.”

  “Wow, lucky me,” Brittany said sarcastically as she shoved a cup of instant coffee in his hand.

  “You can shelve that jealousy, doll” came out of the box clearly, which nearly made Brittany drop the other cup she was holding. “I’m not what you’ve been thinking. Try this one on for size: I was there for his birth, even assisted in it. That help? Yes, I can see that it does.”

  Brittany’s face was going up in mortified flames. God, she had been jealous of a name, a voice, a faceless woman, without even once thinking the lady could be a little old grandmotherly type.

  To cover some of her embarrassment, she asked Martha, “How can you see?”

  “There are six viewers on the combo‑unit attached to DaIden’s belt, one on every edge, so no matter which way he’s facing, I’m bound to get a good shot of what’s going on around him.”

  “So it’s a camera, too?”

  “You could say that. Actually, why don’t we call it a new advanced model of what’s known to you as a cellular phone, under experimentation, and obviously failing. I should have whipped him up an old model instead, since I am now aware that your men of business walk around with them attached to their ears, so he wouldn’t have drawn much notice using one.”

  “Not drawn notice?” Brittany replied. “Him? You’re kidding, right?”

  The distinct sound of chuckling came out of the box. “Aside from his looks. He needs to keep a low profile. We don’t want Jorran alerted to his presence and having a chance to disappear on us.

  “If he wants a low profile, we should probably stop by the mall on the way to City Hall and buy him some normal clothes. His rock star get‑up might be fine for L.A., where people expect to see stars in fancy outfits, but we don’t get many celebrities passing through Seaview.”

  None of those camera angles could have seen Dalden’s blank expression, yet Martha still knew to share with him. “She’s talking about their entertainment industry, Dalden, the gist of it being, she’s going to buy you some local clothing this morning.”

  Brittany blinked. “I am? Okay, I suppose I am, but while you’re

  on the phone, how about telling me why he seems to be lacking any ready cash, or was he actually sent over to this country without any?”

  “File that one under hard to explain, kiddo. There’s a good reason for his lack, but not one that we can divulge at this time.,’

  No other explanation came out of the box. Brittany wondered if Martha was waiting for her to fire off more questions, now that she could. But she didn’t really have any more at the moment, at least none that she thought might get answered instead of being dumped into the “hard to explain” file. Well, there was one…

  “I notice you don’t have his accent. You don’t come from his country?”

  “No, my origins are very far from his. But the voice I use is irrelevant when I can simulate any tone, accent, or language imaginable. What you hear is only for your convenience.,,

  Brittany was impressed. “A master linguist, then, or an impressionist?”

  More chuckling. “You could say both, though just plain old master has a nice ring to it. 91

  Whether DaIden was feeling neglected or not, he became Brittany’s center of attention again when he asked, “Will you create a meal to sustain us for the day?”

  Brittany grinned at him. “Why do I get the feeling that a bowl of cereal and milk won’t do it for you? Never mind, I’ll whip up

  some eggs and other breakfasty‑type things while you take a shower.”

  “You will need first to show me how the water is acquired for it.”

  She raised a brow, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. A village without electricity was probably a village without proper sanitation.

  Still, she’d rather not guess if she could get an answer, so she tried, “No showers where you come from?”

  “We bathe in large pools.”

  She pictured big ponds with only a few trees and plants, an oasis, camels again‑bah. She really was going to have to figure out just

  where his never‑heard‑of‑before country was located. This imagining of primitive tents in a desert didn’t say much for their ever being compatible. She and tents didn’t get along well at all.

  She headed to the tiny bathroom and leaned into the shower to adjust the single water control handle to get the water running at a comfortable temperature. The shower had been remodeled just last year by the landlord, and now had one of those newfangled spigots that concealed the shower turn‑on valve under it. If you didn’t know where it was, you’d never find it, so she could understand how Martha might not have been able to help him this time.

  “My mother uses a different means, a solaray bath,” he added while she was stil
l leaning half into the shower, waiting for the hot water to show up.

  “You mean a solar bath? Now that’s a bit modern, and cost-effective, too. I plan to put up a few solar panels on the house I build, for the water heater at least. And I plan a really large bathroom, probably the same size as the bedroom attached to it. I’ve been dreaming of big ever since I first walked into this cubbyhole.”

  “I am accustomed to the bath being in the room of sleeping,” he volunteered.

  A pool in a bedroom? Now she was picturing a palace, or an incredibly large mansion.

  She turned around to ask him once again Just where the heck his country was, but found him towering over her, barely an inch separating them. Not surprising, since it was a really tiny bathroom. She couldn’t turn around in it without banging elbows herself. With him in it, too, there was absolutely no space to maneuver without them bumping into each other.

  It was hard to concentrate with him that close, but she managed to get out, “You can at least tell me the continent that your country sits in, can’t you? So I can have something to relate to when you drop these little tidbits like pools instead of bathtubs and . .

  That was as far as she got. Being lifted off her feet and deeply kissed worked pretty well to put an end to any kind of concentration. She was surrounded by his body, by his scent, by his taste.

  Her senses began rioting with her morals and were coming out ahead. And then she was set down and pushed toward the door.

  “Be gone from my sight quickly, kerima, unless you wish to share the water and more with me now.”

  That was about as plain as could be, that he’d reached his limit of sexual forbearance. Caution prevailed and got her out of there real quick.

  Chapter Fifteen

  YOU CAN’T GO KISSING ME TO DISTRACTION EVERY time I ask you something that you don’t want to answer. If it’s secret, just say so. If I get fed up with hearing that, I’ll say so. Okay?”

  They were in Brittany’s car on the way to City Hall. It was much later than they’d planned on getting there. She’d fed Dalden before they left, and was definitely going to have to stop for some groceries on the way home after that mammoth meal.

  And there’d been an amusing moment when they left the apartment and she told him not to mind the rust‑bucket look of her car, that she kept it in tiptop shape so it purred. He, of course, misinterpreted that and started looking around for buckets and fembairs, the latter being what she figured he called cats.

  It was now almost noon, since their brief stop at the mall had turned into hitting every shop with men’s clothing, after it had been apparent from the first shop that they were going to have trouble finding something to fit Dalden. In fact, they never did. There had been a few extra‑extra‑large T‑shirts he could have worn, but they just didn’t look right on him, and besides, leaving those arms of his bare would draw as much notice as his fancy tunic.

  There was hope, though, at least for tomorrow. An on‑duty seamstress in one of the larger clothing stores had felt challenged upon seeing Dalden, and after taking some quick measurements, had promised to have some jeans and a plain cotton shirt ready for him by the end of the day.

  Brittany had expected Dalden to draw some notice, but experiencing it firsthand in the mall that morning went beyond even her own expectations. She hadn’t noticed yesterday because she’d been unable to take her eyes off him herself. But he managed to affect everyone that way. No matter where she looked, people were staring at him open‑mouthed, boggle‑eyed; he was causing traffic pile‑ups of the pedestrian kind. One young kid even asked him for his autograph and refused to believe he wasn’t a celebrity. Keep a low profile? Yeah, right.

  There hadn’t been much time between her apartment and the mall for talk, and besides, she’d been too busy watching Dalden examining everything on the dashboard, as if he’d never been in a car before. Yet she’d wanted to wait until they were in the car, where he wouldn’t dare try to kiss her again, to bring up the subject of his unique way of distracting her.

  She wasn’t expecting an argument. Her suggestion had been so reasonable that it didn’t leave room for arguing. But he put a new twist to it.

  “Yet is it much more enjoyable, for both of us, to kiss you to distraction,” he said.

  Undeniable, but beside the point. “Remember ‘getting to know each other’? Part of that is answering questions, not avoiding them.”

  “When I make you mine, Brittany Callaghan, you may have all the answers you seek. I am told, however, that you win not be happy with the answers.”

  Thank God the traffic light in front of them was red, because Brittany temporarily forgot how to drive. When he made her his? Again, that had such a ring of permanence to it, coming from him. Not when they made love. Not when her job was done. When he made her his. The effect that had on her was swift and primitive.

  Driving down the boulevard was not the place for this discussion after all. She tried zeroing in on his second remark to get her mind out of fantasyland. Unhappiness. Answers she wouldn’t like. Okay, that worked.

  She gave him a quick glance, then glanced a bit longer at the box on his hip, trusting that Martha’s camera views were working.

  “Are these ‘I am tolds’ his opinion, or what you’ve been telling him, Martha?”

  “You really don’t want to hear his opinions, doll,” Martha replied.

  There was clear amusement in the older woman’s tone, which rubbed against Brittany’s nerves. “Actually, I do,” she said stubbornly.

  “Really, you don’t,” Martha countered, then elaborated. “From the information I’ve assimilated so far, your culture and his are so far on opposite ends of the spectrum, the distance could be described in light‑years.”

  “Bah, I know an exaggeration when I hear it,” Brittany replied.

  Some chuckling drifted up from the box before Martha said, “If it means anything to you, and probables is starting to lean toward it will, his mother’s and father’s cultures were also light‑years apart, yet they’ve managed to adjust‑or maybe I should say, she’s managed to adjust. There’s not much budging with a Sha‑Ka’ani male.

  “Was that supposed to be a warning?”

  “You betcha.”

  Brittany snorted. She was beginning to think that Martha was toying with her, and getting a kick out of doing so. But it did worry her that Dalden wasn’t trying to correct the impression Martha was trying to give her. In fact, he didn’t look too happy. Actually, he looked a bit green.

  “Are you all right?” she asked him.

  “I am familiar with transportation that moves on other than legs, but I am not accustomed to the many stops and starts of your rust bucket.”

  She ignored the name he’d given her car and asked with a bit of amazement, “You’re getting carsick? We have hit a bit more traffic than usual, the lunch‑hour crowd, I suppose. But we’re almost to our destination. Another minute or so. Can you last that long?”

  ” Last? “

  “Without dumping your breakfast all over the car?” she clarified.

  His expression turned a bit indignant over that remark, pretty hard to do when he’d been cringing with nausea. “A warrior has more control over his body than to reject an excellent meal.”

  “Delete that” came out of the box in an exasperated voice. “What he means‑”

  “I got the idea, Martha, but let’s not delete that warrior part just yet. He’s in the military?”

  “You could say that.”

  “I could, but you wouldn’t? What’s it called, then, in his country?”

  “The men of Sha‑Ka’an merely keep themselves in a constant state of readiness, sort of what you might term the national guard, or the national militia, or‑”

  “I get it,” Brittany cut in. “Not military, but available if needed.”

  “Exactly!”

  “And where is this country?”

  Not just a little chuckling, but nearly thirty seconds of ass
orted humor sounds came out of the box before Martha said, “Tenacious, aren’t you? But you’ve heard of classified info, haven’t you? Yes, of course you have.”

  “Oh, come on, you’ve told me the name of it. I can go find an atlas and look it up myself.”

  “You can, but you’d be wasting your time. You won’t find it in any atlas.”

  “A country so newly formed it’s not on the maps yet?” Brittany said incredulously.

  “Not new,” Martha corrected. “But then, new is subjective. What would be new to you wouldn’t be to him, and vice versa, of course.

  Brittany could allow that there might be places in the world still unexplored. But to have an entire country tucked away in one of them? OK, so it was possible. Actually, Dalden and his people were proof of that.

  How have they managed to remain undiscovered?” Brittany asked.

  “You could say their‑borders‑are closed to visitors. No one gets in without permission, and permission is rarely if ever given.”

  “Are we even talking about a country? Maybe you’ve got town and country mixed up?”

  “Actually, you’re working on assumptions,” Martha told her. “You’re the one who called Sha‑Ka’an a country. Dalden never confirmed or denied that. Sometimes he actually follows my directives.”

  The last was meant for Dalden, but it got no reaction out of him. He didn’t look like he was paying attention to the conversation at all. His eyes were closed, his skin still off‑color, his forehead damp. Brittany didn’t doubt that his full concentration was still on keeping his breakfast where it resided.

  But she knew she’d get no answers out of him, anyway. And as long as Martha was spilling some beans, even if dried‑up useless ones, she’d rather keep trying to get at least one whole kernel out of her.

  She tried a different tack. “I’m not asking for any great secrets. All I want to know is who I’m helping. There happen to be factions in this world that I’d be completely opposed to, and I don’t want to find out later that I’ve helped one of them.”

  “Okay, listen up, because I’m going to break my own rules, but only this once. Sha‑Ka’an isn’t a country. Let’s call it a place, and where his people as a whole get their name. His actual country is Kan‑is‑Tra, and no, you won’t find that on one of your maps either. His town is Sha‑Ka‑Ra. And none of the above have politics opposed to your people, so rest easy on that score. Now with no other information forthcoming about any of these locations, you’ll agree what you’ve just heard has no meaning for you. Leave it at‑”