Captain Gareth's Mates (9 page)

Her bare skin and loose hair gleamed in the strong sunlight of late afternoon, a few clear droplets of water clinging to her shoulders and breasts. Gareth, also still damp from their recent swim, leaned over to lick them off.

“No. I’m curious, too,” he admitted. Gareth had avoided speaking Brennar’s name, waiting instead for Izbal to mention him on her own. He was relieved when she did and with no trace of bitterness or envy. “Somehow, I don’t think I’d fit in too well. The people seem a bit too...analytical for my tastes.”

“Brennar’s nature is quite intellectual, true. If he remained on Anubis, he would find his place among my father’s chroniclers and the scholars who prepare lessons for our young people. I suspect that would not make him happy, though. Part of him craves novelty and adventure, just as you do.”

“I suppose you’re right. The diplomatic corps must appeal to him for some reason.” Having kissed her upper body dry, Gareth moved his mouth lower, trailing his tongue down her middle. “And what about you, Izbal? What do you seek on your life’s journey?”

“You are the first person ever to ask me such a question,” she said, laughing. “Women have but two goals on my world. One is marriage and the other is strong sons to work in the fields or the mines. I suppose most are content with their lot, but, if not, no one will be sorry for them.”

“Could that ever change? I mean, on Earth, hundreds of years ago, women and even entire races of people were undervalued and even abused. Once they fought for change and won it, everyone saw just how foolish those restrictions had been.”

“To hear my tutors explain such things, the loss of appropriate hierarchies left your planet in chaos and resulted in more misery than they had caused in the first place. My father, like every grand potentate before him, is determined never to replicate that mistake.”

Frustrated to hear of such attitudes thriving in the modern age, Gareth scowled. “I can’t deny that Earth has gone through some dark periods, but I promise you that equality for all people, men and women alike, is the only sure path to social progress and peace.”

Izbal frowned. “I would advise you not to express such opinions in front of my father. He sees you as someone who shares his values and will uphold his laws if you ever take his place here.”

“Me? Become grand potentate? If that weren’t so outrageous I would laugh.”

“Why? I told you before—my father has many wives, but as yet no son. That may change, or one of my sisters may take a husband who would challenge your right to rule. But barring those circumstances, it is not at all unlikely that you will one day rule Anubis. Perhaps Brennar could be your chief consul.”

“Damn.” So much for Brennar’s insistence that he refrain from judging the cultures he visited. Under the right conditions, he could reshape this one entirely to his own tastes. He imagined the looks on the faces of the highest-ranking members of the Terran Council when he informed them he was resigning his border patrol to take up his new position as a king.

Izbal’s hand came to rest on his neck. Her fingertips massaged him softly. “Does the idea appeal to you at all, my lord?” she asked quietly. He heard the note of hopefulness in her voice.

“Only if you were to rule by my side as my equal,” he said. “After all, you’re the grand potentate’s firstborn. The office should be yours by right.”

“Had I been born male, it would be.” She rolled closer to him, her body open to his touch. “However...there are times when I cannot regret being female in the least.”

“I must admit that I agree.” Smiling, Gareth used his index and middle fingers to part her moist folds and pressed his mouth to the velvet tucked inside. She tasted fresh and cool, like the waterfall. He extended his tongue and flicked it a few times to tease her. Then he moved in with a more serious purpose. Izbal whimpered as he licked, sucked, and even nibbled her until her hips were shaking and her most intimate muscles pulsed feverishly around his lips and tongue.

Just as he sensed she was about to lose herself in utter bliss, a new sensation between his own legs took him by surprise. He couldn’t mistake the vigorous pull of an unusually long and dexterous tongue or the graceful pressure of those narrow fingers on his swollen sac.

With Izbal so close, he couldn’t lift his head to verify his suspicions. Instead, he surrendered to a detonation only slightly less potent than the one he’d created for General Xaal’s benefit. He drifted through what he envisioned as a starless white space, filled with light and warmth and sustained by the current of unselfish emotion that radiated from their three conjoined bodies.

When he opened his eyes again, he was on his side with his head still propped on Izbal’s thigh. Brennar was crouching at his feet, his clothing in a small heap beside him. To Gareth’s amazement, Brennar was also being satisfied by Izbal herself. Though he’d been too busy to notice, Izbal had apparently angled her body so that she could reach Brennar with her mouth, repaying him in kind for the favor he’d done Gareth. He watched, fascinated, as his wife brought his lover to fulfillment without a hint of shame or resentment. If anything, she seemed as enthusiastic as Gareth had been toward her. He didn’t think he’d ever admired her so much as he did in that minute.

When it was over, each of them claimed one edge of the blanket to rest on.

“How did you manage to get away again so soon?” Gareth asked Brennar. “We weren’t expecting to see you until dark, if then.”

“After a few hours’ audience with Izbal’s father, I excused myself to spend the rest of the evening fasting and meditating. No one questioned my need for absolute silence and solitude. I have every reason to expect that my chamber door will remain undisturbed for quite some time.”

Gareth grinned. “Good thinking. They don’t know enough about your customs to question anything you say. Before long you’ll be able to fib as effectively as I do.”

“I should add that I recovered your equipment and spoke with Acting Captain Erril on board the
Wayfarer
. She sends her regards and assures me that the sector has been clear during your absence, with no sightings of General Xaal or any members of his fleet.”

“Good.” Not for the first time, Gareth cursed the male attendants who had prepared him for the wedding, stripping him not only of any weapons but of his hyperspace communications device as well.

Brennar regarded the blanket and their relaxed state of undress and raised a silvery eyebrow. “I see you found a way to entertain yourselves in my absence.”

“We did,” Izbal said. “However, we spoke of and thought about you the entire time. I think I can say without any fear of contradiction that we are both glad to have you back.”

“And I am glad to be back,” Brennar assured her with a smile. “I am afraid I could hardly concentrate on any of the entertainments provided for me at the keep. Your father must think me a little deaf, as I lost the thread of our conversation many times.”

Izbal stood and shrugged on her robe. “I hope you weren’t serious about fasting. I was just about to prepare the evening meal. It will be nothing fancy, but it should prove nourishing all the same. Gareth and I gathered some fresh
quiegivi
berries that should garnish our plates nicely.”

She left them alone, and Brennar’s expression turned solemn.

“I neglected to convey one part of Lieutenant Erril’s message because I thought it might distress Izbal,” he admitted. “She still plans to return at the appointed time to take you to the ship. As much as she enjoys command, she will be grateful to welcome you back to your post.”

“I see.”

“It will be difficult to leave Izbal behind, will it not?” Brennar pressed with genuine concern in his eyes.

Gareth frowned. “We’ll discuss it later. The food will be ready in a minute. Izbal is very efficient about such things.”

“Perhaps we should go and assist her,” Brennar said, reaching for his tunic.

“Ask her to bring it out here,” Gareth called after him as he walked toward the dwelling. “I’d like to enjoy the sky a little longer.”

Izbal welcomed his suggestion, and the three dined on bread, fruit, and wine while the warm air caressed their skin. By the time Anubis’ three moons had climbed into place above them, they had shed their clothes again and loved one another as simply and zestfully as wild, native creatures who had never known any other way of life.

That night, all three of them slept in the enormous bed and learned about pleasing each other well into the next afternoon.

Chapter 8

Gareth lay on his back and imagined himself floating in warm water. Izbal straddled his hips with her legs flung wide around him, lifting herself slowly up and down on his rigid erection. Brennar stretched out beside him, idly massaging his balls and licking at his thighs. Gareth had only to turn his head halfway to extend his tongue and sweep Brennar’s cock into his mouth. He did, savoring the exotic flavor of his alien lover’s flesh and delighting in the sound of his satisfied murmurs.

The first time they’d come together, they’d had a week to figure out their future. That had turned into four days, then two, then one more night, all of them fraught with the excitement of Brennar slipping back and forth from the keep and the thrill of welcoming him back into their bed. Now their last afternoon in the woods had arrived. Where had the time gone? More and more frequently, Gareth experienced moments when he never wanted to go back.

Like now.

Izbal reached her apex first, arching her back and grinding herself against his torso. A moment later Brennar followed her into blissful oblivion. Gareth held out the longest, desperate to ensure their total gratification, but soon enough he, too, lost his bearing and plummeted headfirst toward paradise.

Afterward, the three of them curled together and rested.

“We have to get ready,” Izbal said with a sigh. “The villagers will be here to escort us back.”

“Another tradition?” asked Gareth.

“Yes. Usually the couple returns to the community, sets up a household with everyone’s help, and begins a life together. In our case, things will necessarily be different.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you a normal life among your people,” Gareth said, stroking her hair.

“I knew that was impossible from the beginning, and I don’t mind. Being different opens up different possibilities.”

“You are an amazing woman, Izbal. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, ever.”

“If we are about to be interrupted, I had better excuse myself,” Brennar observed. He got up and began to dress, while Gareth and Izbal rested a moment with her head on his chest.

Only seven days ago, Gareth marveled, he’d longed for an easy escape route or at least for the week to fly by. He didn’t feel that way now. For the first time in his life, love had entered his heart and left him a better man.

After Brennar had slipped away through the forest, Gareth and Izbal washed and dressed with a strange shyness of one another. Perhaps both felt the loss of Brennar, he thought, or perhaps facing a group of visitors as an established couple made them nervous. It seemed somehow dishonest not to be able to acknowledge Brennar, but his role in the marriage was a secret they would have to live with for now.

“Brennar is a good man,” Izbal said, seeming to read his mind. “I know why you are drawn to him. I’ve come to care about him, too.”

“I can see that,” said Gareth, “and I’m glad.”

From the distance came the sound of boisterous singing.

“The villagers,” Izbal said.

They watched from the window as the procession of men and women, some of whom looked familiar, moved through the trees toward them. Izbal flung open the door, only to be draped in a celebratory wreath and surrounded by a group of young women who joined hands and turned an admiring circle around her. Some of the older members of the group moved directly into their sparse living space, gathering their clothes and possessions into baskets for transport. A good deal of muted giggling resulted when they noticed that many of the clothes had not been worn.

Gareth and Izbal set off within minutes, walking back to the colony hand-in-hand with the procession now behind them. The moment they returned, one of Zimeon’s advisors came forward to greet Gareth.

“The grand potentate would like to speak to you,” he said, ignoring Izbal.

“Very well.” To much applause, Gareth raised Izbal’s hand and kissed it before letting her go and following the older man into the keep. He soon found himself in the same tapestry-strewn room in which the marriage had originally been contracted.

Zimeon relaxed in his chair, his wrinkled cheek propped on a bony fist. He looked as though he had aged in the past week, or perhaps Gareth had never noticed the hint of frailty before.

“Izbal no doubt told you that I have no male heir,” he began without preamble. “You can see with your own eyes that I am old and will not always have the energy to rule this place. You, on the other hand, are young and strong, capable of protecting all that I have built here. Your acceptance and care of my daughter show me that you are a man of honor as well. I have therefore decided to make you my successor.”

Ever since Izbal had explained the situation to him, Gareth had expected to hear those very words. Actually having to respond to them, though, proved daunting.