Shield's Lady (Lost Colony #3)

The only man she had even begun to consider in a faintly romantic light was halfway across town waiting for her to join him for lunch. And it was a fact that Etion Rakken had never had the unmitigated gall to kiss her in this manner.

Gryph's embrace was rough, hungry and passionate. It was also astonishingly arrogant and forceful, as if he were stealing something he was fairly certain he wouldn't be able to get by asking.

It was as if he were staking a claim.

The kiss, Sariana knew somewhere in the depths of her being, was meant to be a small, symbolic act of masculine aggression. And when Gryph boldly parted her lips and thrust his tongue briefly and forcefully into the soft, intimate warmth of her mouth, she knew it was symbolic of the more intimate act

of sex as well. Lack of personal experience in such matters did not imply lack of knowledge.

Sariana tried to jerk free of the embrace but something was happening to her, something she did not understand.

A waterfall of sensation was suddenly pouring over her, leaving her dazed and vaguely frantic. She did not recognize some of these emotions. They were oddly alien, as if they came from someone else. Then she realized abruptly why they seemed so strange. These emotions were masculine, not feminine.

There was hunger, irritation, need, aggression, passion, arrogance and, swamping all the others, sheer, unadulterated male possessiveness.

It was impossible, Sariana thought desperately. She was imagining things. Nevertheless she had the disorienting feeling that she was actually tapping into some of Gryph's feelings. She raised her hands and pushed futilely against his shoulders. He held the kiss a few seconds longer, just long enough to let her know that she could not force him to halt the embrace. It would end when he wanted it to end.

And then, without any warning, it was over. Sariana was set free as abruptly as she had been taken captive. She caught hold of the edge of the desk for balance and stared at Gryph. She was far more shaken than she wanted to admit. She hastily used the only defense she had, her quick tongue.

"I'm sure you already know your manners are utteriy abominable," Sariana managed with a smooth sarcasm that she hoped masked her inner turmoil and rage. "So I won't bother to give you a lecture about them. I doubt if you're capable of learning much on the subject of manners, anyway. I have it on good authority that you were raised on the frontier, far from proper society. You'll be interested to know your lack of breeding shows. And because you are ill-bred, you probably don't mind that it shows." She-turned away to open a section of the desk. "You might not believe it, but I do have better things to do this morning than fight off the advances of an over-priced mercenary whose social class is obviously disintegrating even as we speak. Please leave."

There was a stunned silence from behind her. Gryph didn't move.

"We have a lot more to discuss," he finally got out. His voice sounded surprisingly thick and ragged. "We have nothing more to discuss." She kept her rigid back to him as she riffled the papers in front of

her. "If you have accepted a contract to recover the missing cutter, as you claim you have, I would appreciate it if you would get started on the project. As I mentioned last night, complete secrecy is required for the sake of the clan. Your cover story is that you have been hired by the Avylyns to ensure the safety of their jewelry collection on the night of their annual costume ball. Your presence in the household will appear normal until then. It will be expected that you need to make proper security arrangements. After the ball, if you still haven't found the cutter, we will need to invent another cover story. Or find another Shield."

"Lady Sariana, we have to talk," Gryph said heavily.

She whirled to face him. "I do hope that in the matter of secrecy you can be trusted." He stared at her as if she had gone crazy, " I'm a Shield. Don't you know what that means? My word

is better than prisma."

"One hopes that, while you may not have a decent set of manners, you do have some business ethics. You do, after all, belong to some sort of accepted social class, even if that class does choose to reside on the frontier for the most part. You are not a complete outlaw. Now, I have work to do. Please leave."

"Lady, if you think you can just casually toss me out of your office like this, I've got news for you." Whatever Gryph would have said next was lost as the door to Sariana's office opened again to admit

Indina Avylyn. She came into the room like a ship in full sail, her towering hairdo barely clearing the door.

"Oh, here you are, Sariana," she said in tones of tremendous relief. "I've been looking for you. I have the menus for the food we will be serving for the costume ball. Now I know I have specified some rather expensive items, but I've already explained that this is one area in which the Avylyns must not stint. The Clan has been giving this ball for nearly seventy years. People expect the best from us. If we cut comers this year they will suspect that all is not well with us. We mustn't allow that to happen." She stopped short as she realized someone else was in the room. Mild alarm dashed some of the enthusiasm from her eyes. "Lord Chassyn. The luck of the day to you, sir. Please pardon me if I'm intruding on a business conference, but this is terribly important. I must have Sariana's approval of these expenses."

"Luck to you. Lady Avylyn," Gryph said. He inclined his head with a graceful degree of polish that belied the accusations Sariana had just made concerning his manners. "I understand the importance of your situation. Sariana and I can continue our discussion after she's looked at your menus."

Sariana stabbed at the mechanism that opened a complete section of the black stone desk. "I'm afraid Sariana is going to be unavailable for any further discussions of any sort this morning. I have a business appointment. Lady Avylyn, I will be happy to approve your menus this afternoon, Lord Chassyn," she added with a mocking emphasis on the title, "I'm sure you'll understand if I dash off. Pressing business I'm afraid."

Sariana practically fled from the room.

Gryph gazed thoughtfully at the empty doorway. "Pressing business?" "Oh, she probably has an appointment with her friend at the bank," indina Avylyn explained.

"She has a friend in banking? A male friend?"

"Etion Rakken," Indina said hurriedly as she gathered up her menus. "He's also from Rendezvous. Came over a number of years ago and never went back. I think he and Sariana feel they must cling to each other white they reside here in the west. There are so few people from the eastern continent who actually live here, you know. Perfectly natural that Sariana and Etion should stick together. Sariana is so lonely. She hides it well, of course. You know how those easterners are about showing emotion. But we all know she's homesick. Etion always has a cheering effect on her, though. She'll be fine this afternoon after she's had lunch with him. You'll see."