The Impatient Lord (4 page)

Silence answered her, but Riona didn
’t open her eyes to look. A long moment passed. She imagined Aeron glaring at her, ready to explode. Instead, the door slid open. Quietly, Aeron said, “Thank you, Ri.”

Riona
looked over in surprise, just in time to see the door sliding shut behind her sister.

Lithor Republic Ambassadorial Spacecraft, planet of Qurilixen’s outer orbit

Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig,
absently watched as his home world passed across the viewing portal. Mountains and forest seemed to meld seamlessly together, so small he could block the entire planet from his eye line with both hands. Absently, he drew his finger along his line of vision, tracing what would be the route he’d soon travel from his home in the northern mountains to the Draig royal palace where the upcoming Breeding Festival was to be held. The path reminded him of the curve of a woman’s hip.

From the sky, Qu
rilixen appeared reddish-brown, but where he lived in the mountains, the earth was red with streaks of grey. Though he couldn’t see it, he knew exactly where his castle home lay nestled in a valley. It gave him some comfort to know the fortress was hidden from view, virtually undetectable from space.

Here on the ship in his duties as Mining Ambassador
, he was Lord Miroslav, but at home with his three brothers, he was simply Mirek. He preferred being Mirek. His family was everything to him. Unfortunately, family consisted of merely the four noble brothers. Mirek’s parents were no longer living. None of the brothers had been blessed with a wife and consequently had no children.

From space
, there were no shadows over the land as the suns hit the surface at different angles. The temperatures on the planet were moderate to warm, though it could get cold in the highest mountains. Near the royal palace at the base of the mountains, the earth was a dark red and filled with nutrients to support the colossal trees of the southern forest. With three suns, the planet received a lot of light. Some of the vegetation was so large that the space craft he was on could fit inside a hollowed-out tree trunk.

The t
wo yellow suns were great for the plants, but the radiation from the blue sun affected the people. Radiation altered the men’s genetics and made Qurilixian-born women rare. Maybe one in a thousand births was a Qurilixian female. If not for bridal trade, his people would have gone extinct generations back.

Marriage
was a complicated matter. The fact they had no women of their own was why the services of corporations like Galaxy Brides were so invaluable. In return for Galaxy Brides arranging the screening and transportation of women willing to marry a stranger, his people mined a specialized ore needed to make high-quality ship fuel. Since the Draig rarely left the planet and didn’t use landcrafts to get around, they didn’t really have a practical use for the ore.

The next
marriage festival was soon, and Mirek was duty bound to attend, and to keep attending year after long year until he found a wife. This was to be his fourth ceremony. Such continual bad luck did not make him look forward to another failed attempt. Like all men, he wanted a wife, yearned for one. It was their duty to marry and have children, to carry on the family name and the Draig culture.

If Mirek was honest with himself, he would admit he wanted more than to carry on the family line. He wanted th
e entire experience of having a woman. Sex he’d had, but it had been meaningless physical exertions with offworld travelers. He wanted more. He wanted a woman that would wake up beside him, whisper his name, laugh with him, honor him with sons, grace him with smiles and soft touches and…

Mirek frowned, not allowing his thoughts to drift to such things.
The gods had not blessed him. Nor had they blessed his brothers. It was a dark shadow that hung over his family’s honor. It was quite possible his family line would end with his generation.

For his eldest brother
, Bron, this year marked his seventh attempt at finding a bride. Undoubtedly, the High Duke would be in a vile mood during the festivities. The second oldest, Alek, faced his fifth attempt. That left the youngest, Vladan. It was Vlad’s first year. Mirek almost felt bad for his little brother. He could remember well the hope and excitement that had filled him during his first festival. There was no reason to believe that Vlad’s luck would be any different than his siblings when it came to a life mate.

One unintentional blessing on
this year was that his four royal cousins, the Draig princes, would be searching for their brides for the first time. Their royal attendance would take the notice from Mirek’s family.

The very idea of a lonely marriage ceremony made him tired.

“It is well you speak, Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig. We agree to your proposal to send a proposal to your royal family for consideration of our terms for the agreement held herein.”

At the steady, soft voice, Mirek turned. He let all thoughts o
f marriage fade from his mind as he concentrated on his duties. The Lithorian people were a tedious race, small in stature and great in manners. It had taken Mirek years of training to learn just the basic Lithorian etiquettes. However, it was worth it. They produced the best chocolate in the galaxy and every female on the planet practically went crazy for just a taste of it.

Mirek averted his eyes to the left, bent his head to the side and answ
ered, “By the graces of the Lithorian people, I thank you on behalf of my people the Draig, Barun Monke of the Lithor.” Mirek reached out his hands, palms facing up. A thick stack of parchment was placed on them.

“
The proposal document, Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig,” the barun said.

“
By the graces of the Lithorian people, I thank you again, Barun Monke. I will personally deliver this into the hands of Prince Olek, the Draig Royal Ambassador.”

Mirek did not envy his cousin, the prince. The proposal woul
d just be the first of several hundred pages worth of negotiations that would basically end up being a simple straight trade,
Galaxa-promethium
ore for chocolate.

“
As agreed,” the barun acknowledged. “The airlock is being initiated between our two ships if you are ready to follow me, Lord Miroslav, Ealdorman of Draig.”

“
By the graces of the Lithorian people, I thank you again, Barun Monke.” Mirek sighed, trying to fight the headache forming behind his right eye. It was the same headache he received any time he had to deal with these particular negotiators. Too bad today’s appointment wasn’t a stranded Galaxy Playmate ship filled with beautiful, lonely, unmated women. What better distraction to take his mind from the upcoming disappointment of yet another failed ceremony?

Gods
’ bones, he missed the feel of soft flesh and sweet lips—even if it was merely a physical release. Fleeting pleasures were better than no pleasure at all.

* * *

Breeding Festival Grounds, near the Draig Palace, planet of Qurilixen

R
iona winked at the Galaxy Brides crewman. Though the entire section set aside for brides was automated to ensure the bridal cargo arrived uncompromised, the workers flying the spacecraft were not. It hadn’t taken much to hack into the system via a beauty droid’s interior drive and strike up a conversation with a crewman, which had led to a game of chance, which had led to a natural win, which had led to Riona getting a private exit off the ship away from the parade of brides.

“
Thank you, Charl,” she said. “Remember to watch your mouth. It gives your hand away every time.”

“
If you’re not looking for a husband, I could give my mouth away to you,” the man offered.

Riona laughed. “
Better gamblers have tried. Trust me, I’m the kind of trouble a man like you can’t handle.”

“
You are probably right, especially when you’re wearing a dress like that. See you on the return flight for a rematch.” He grinned and closed the maintenance hatch, leaving her alone on the primitive alien planet.

Riona smiled.
Charl’s mouth wasn’t his only tell. Once she trounced him on the return trip, she’d make sure he deleted Aeron’s and her name from Galaxy Brides’ database.

The crew
was doing a bio scan to make sure none of the brides had tried to get out of their duty by hiding on the ship. Even if she could have, Riona hadn’t wanted to stay onboard. There was too much fun to be had on a new planet. Besides, the idea of Aeron walking between two rows of sexy barbarian men intent on marriage was going to be something worth seeing. Just the idea made Riona laugh.

To blend in
with the other women while waiting for her private exit, Riona had to dress like potential brides in the fine gauze and silk of the traditional Qurilixian gown. The slinky material stirred against her body when she moved, hugging her hips as the skirt flowed around her legs in thin strips. The shoes were soft, almost too soft for walking on the unpaved ground. Running on the local terrain would be hard, not that she had any intention of making a go for the nearby forest. Luckily, it was warm, because the gown’s bodice had been cut low to make the most of her breasts without showing her nipples. Normally, she wasn’t one for wearing dresses, but the gown didn’t bother her. Riona liked disguises.

What she didn
’t like very much was the way arm straps stretched across her back like long cuffs to keep her wrists tied together. The straps were secured by the way they wound up her forearms and fastened over her elbows. She had enough freedom of movement to reach in front of her, but she couldn’t lift her arms over her head and if she tried to strike out, the silken chains would stop her.

Dusk claimed the small planet
, turning the earth into a dark and brilliant red. Apparently, this world only had one night of darkness a year, which made the Breeding Festival special. But she’d heard of stranger customs than only allowing marriages to happen in the dark by the light of a glowing crystal.

Riona found it
easy to get her bearings as the ship faced a valley filled with pyramid-shaped tents decorated with waving banners. A single large moon shone overhead. Bonfires cast light over the valley, seeming to set it on fire. She loved the earthy primitiveness of it.

Grinning
mischievously to no one in particular as she was alone, Riona began to dance to the distant music, hidden by the shadows of the ship. Tonight was going to be so much fun.

* * *

“Tonight is a serious matter,” Elder Bochman stated. It was his usual speech, one Mirek had had the unhappy pleasure of memorizing. “For those of you fortunate enough to be blessed with a bride, it will be one of the hardest nights of your life.”

At the
reference to
hard
, a few of the men chuckled. Bochman arched a brow until they quieted their juvenile reaction.

“
We are the Draig,” Bochman said. He let his eyes shift with the gold of his dragon form to give the statement more meaning. “We are strong. We are brave. We act on instinct. Put a battle before us, and we will fight it. Put a traitorous Var in front of us, and we will kill him like the stinking cat shifter he is. No one doubts your bravery, my fellow Draig, but tonight you will be tested beyond all limits. You must fight your instincts, fight your innermost desires and abstain from claiming the one thing you will want more than any other thing in your life.”

The potential grooms gave a gruff cheer. Mirek lowered his eyes to the ground.
Absently, he touched the sacred crystal hanging around his neck. On the day he was born, his father had journeyed to Crystal Lake, dove beneath the waves and pulled the stone he now wore from the lakebed. Mirek, like all Draig, had worn the crystal ever since. But it wasn’t just a custom. It was how they received the will of the gods. When he saw his bride, the crystal would glow, signifying his destiny.

The men cheered louder, drawing
Mirek’s eyes back up. He knew they were excited, but he could hardly be expected to cheer for a night that would undoubtedly prove fruitless.

As the grooms were directed to make their way to the receiving lines,
Mirek followed his oldest brother, Bron, toward the side of the festival grounds. The familiar music and laughter of his people sounded behind him. Married couples watched on as those too young to participate posed and shouted behind the grooms.

As was tradition
, he wore a loincloth, a gold band around his biceps, a black leather mask to hide his face from forehead to upper lip and the sacred crystal necklace. Though they teased, his people were hardly ashamed of the naked form. Unlike the grooms, the onlookers wore the more commonplace tunic.

The
grooms stopped, forming two lines as they faced each other. The brides would walk between them for the pairings. Mirek took his place and waited.

Perhaps this year would
be different. Perhaps this would be the year they all found brides. Mirek hated hope, and yet here he was feeling it. Bonfires cast the area into stark relief, but he didn’t need the firelight to see. As a shifter, his eyes could easily pick out the brides waiting within the open mouth of the Galaxy Brides luxury ship. He focused on each woman, waiting for a spark to snap inside of him, some hint that he would be lucky. Nothing happened.