Shield's Lady (Lost Colony #3)

Sariana drew a deep breath and spoke through her teeth. Her voice was a little too sweet, but she doubted if Gryph would notice the sarcasm. "I have only been here for a year," she said. "I am attempting to learn as quickly as I can. You will understand the problems involved, I'm sure, when you stop and think about the rather exotic, not to say bizarre, customs and legends I am forced to deal with on a daily basis here. Kindly tell me a little more about the prisma ships."

"Well, well," Gryph said with great interest, "you have a temper in the mornings, don't you?"

"I'm surprised you noticed." Her voice was sweeter than ever.

"Oh, I noticed, all right," he replied. "It's reassuring to know that being born and bred on the eastern continent didn't strip you of all of the more interesting emotions. You want to know about crystal ships? I'll tell you about them."

"You know a lot about them?" "I exist because of them."

Sariana's eyes widened. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked in amazement. Gryph transferred his gaze back to the gardens. "The Shield class was created to deal with the prisma

ships. There haven't been any ships found for fifty years, so there hasn't been much need for the Shields' special talents lately. Fortunately, we're versatile. We've made ourselves useful in other areas. We excel at bandit hunting, for example. A useful craft as far as the other social classes are concerned."

"But who makes these prisma crystal ships?"

Gryph shrugged. "No one knows. They were here on Windarca when the First Generation arrived." "That's ridiculous," Sariana scoffed. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"Only because your people didn't run into any of the ships on the eastern continent." "And there haven't been any such ships discovered on the western continent since the descendants of

The Serendipity and The Rendezvous rediscovered each other," Sariana concluded knowingly. "How very convenient. The legend lives on and no one has to provide any proof. Sounds like a typical western fairy tale to me."

"You don't believe in legends?" Gryph sounded more amused than surprised. "I prefer to put my belief in balance sheets, checking accounts and taxes. Legends and ballads are for

children."

"Maybe the right legend could make you change your mind," Gryph suggested softly. "I doubt it," she answered firmly. "But I can see that the legend of the crystal ships might serve a useful

purpose for your social class. The tales undoubtedly help ensure that the other classes show you some respect. The Avylyns tell me there aren't many of you Shields. Apparently your limited numbers enable you to keep your prices high. I always admire that sort of sound business planning."

Gryph swung his head around to stare at her and Sariana wondered if she'd gone too far. Normally her quick tongue was an asset, but there were times around this man when she got the impression it could get her into trouble. She sat very still for a long moment, waiting for the glitter in his eyes to cool. The tension in the room was breathtaking.

When Grypn spoke Sariana remembered to breathe again. "You have no idea of the risks you're running around me, do you?" he asked in a voice that was terrifyingly casual.

The fury was fading rapidly from his eyes. Sariana recovered herself quickly and put the awkward moment behind her. She could handle this man. She could handle anyone from the west if she just put her mind to it. Cool intelligence always had the edge over extravagant emotional indulgence. She just had to concentrate on keeping calm and staying in charge. And talking fast.

"I wasn't aware that I was taking any particular risks. I was simply making a business observation. And as for your legend about prisma crystal ships - "

"You don't believe it."

"I'm afraid not." Sariana tapped one silvered nail on the desk top. "Have you, yourself, ever seen one?"

"No."

"I rest my case."

"If the ships don't exist, how do you account for the existence of prisma?" Gryph asked softly.

"I'm sure it's simply a natural, rather rare substance found here on the western continent," she told him loftily.

"And the prisma cutters?"

"Probably a piece of technology left over from the days of the First Generation. A certain amount was salvaged from The Serendipity after the crash, just as some things were rescued from The Rendezvous. Both groups were fortunate. Without that minimal amount of technology and knowledge, especially medical knowledge, those first colonists would probably not have survived at all. Things were hard enough as it was from all accounts."

"You think you've got an answer for everything, don't you?" Gryph asked. "Not for everything. Not yet. But just give me a little time," she tossed back smoothly.

"Time? Why should I give you time?"

Without any warning Gryph got to his feet and crossed the white marble floor with long, sure strides until he was standing on the opposite side of the desk. He planted both hands, palms flat, on top of the polished surface and leaned forward to confront her.

"I don't owe you time or anything else, Lady Sariana Dayne. Just the opposite. Because of that trick you played last night, you owe me. I'll give you a word of warning because I know for a fact you won't listen."

"What word of warning is that?" she retorted tightly.

"I always collect what's owed to me."

Adrenalin and awareness coursed through Sariana's system. She shot to her feet and opened her mouth to tell Gryph Chassyn what he could do with his warnings.

But her words were never vocalized. Instead Sariana felt herself trapped as Gryph caught her face between two surprisingly rough, strong palms. An instant later his mouth covered hers in a kiss that shocked her to the toes of her soft leather slippers.

Sariana had rarely been kissed and certainly never like that. For all her education and worldly upbringing, she had been a protected clan lady. In addition, the unrelenting pressures of the educational system back in Rendezvous had ensured that there was very little time left to students for such frivolities as sexual experimentation.

The one year of her life that might have been considered free was this past year. But during the whole time she had been in Serendipity Sariana had felt like a stranger in a strange land. She had preferred to feel that way. The last thing she had wanted to do was engage in a sexual relationship with one of the locals. She wanted nothing that would tie her to the west, even temporarily. Besides, she had her standards.