Shield's Lady (Lost Colony #3)

Nevertheless, there was something quite unique about the bonding that took place between a Shield and his mate. That bonding was at its strongest when there was an accompanying emotional intensity.

In other words, the link was at its most intense when they were in the grip of passion or danger. Gryph preferred the grip of passion. He recoiled at the idea of Sariana in danger.

"I did not come out here to discuss the strange customs and legends that lead you and people such as the Avylyns to assume I'm married to you," Sariana said quietly.

"Then why did you seek me out tonight, Sariana?"

She looked out over the moonlit sea. "I've finally had a chance to calm down and think." He smiled faintly. "Translated, that means you've found a way to convince yourself you can turn the

situation to your own advantage. I admire your resilience, Sariana. No matter how bad things get, you always manage to come out fighting. Tell me what you've been thinking. You have a way with logic that leaves a poor, humble male breathless."

His sarcasm annoyed her, but she ignored it. "I was educated to be practical and efficient in my thinking and decision making. For the past two days I have not been applying the benefits of that education. Instead I have been leaping irrationally from one emotional peak to another. It's a waste of energy, time and intelligence to operate in that manner. Tonight I've decided to take control of my own life again. I'm intelligent enough to know that, while I cannot always dictate the events of that life, I can certainly decide how I'll deal with those events."

"Ah, Sariana, I knew it. You do not disappoint me. Once again you are busy building a fortress made out of words."

"I am trying to deal rationally with an irrational situation," she retorted. "I've come to some conclusions and I have decided to offer you a working truce."

"We're not at war," he pointed out, curious in spite of himself. "That's a matter of opinion, but never mind. My offer of a truce still stands."

"Why do we need this truce?"

"Because we both want the same thing. We want to find the prisma cutter. After the violence that has taken place, I'm inclined to believe that getting it back will be a far more dangerous task than I originally anticipated. Going to the guards is out because you and the Avylyns will not back me up. I would look like a crazy easterner making wild claims about a theft that everyone else would deny."

Gryph lifted one shoulder. "True."

"I want to get that cutter back as badly as you do. A great deal of my future success is tied to completing my contract with the Avylyns. They have convinced me that, as ridiculous as it seems and no matter how effectively I manage their business affairs, they cannot retain their preeminence in their social class without that tool."

"They're right."

"Very well, I accept the facts of the situation. The social and business position of the Avylyn Clan must be salvaged if I am to salvage my own future. That means the cutter must be retrieved. It is equally clear now that there is danger involved in getting it back. You're a man who is supposedly trained and equipped to handle danger. I'm a businesswoman, not a skilled fighter. I need your particular talents in this search and you have implied you are willing to help me retrieve the cutter, although I do not as yet understand your sudden insistence on completing the task."

"I think I'm beginning to see where your logic has led you, Sariana. You're an amazing creature."

"Therefore," Sariana pressed on vigorously, "as we share a common goal and are both committed to it, I see no reason why we shouldn't work together as two rational human beings."

"This is what you mean by a truce?" Gryph asked thoughtfully.

She turned to race him squarely, her eyes more mysterious than ever in the shadow of the hood. "Yes."

"What about my claim on you?" he asked bluntly.

She drew a deep breath, as if she were preparing to throw herself into the sea for a late night swim. "We will discuss that when we return to Serendipity with the cutter."

Gryph laughed. "It's all clear to me now. We will sidestep that issue while we're searching for the cutter. You'll pretend you aren't married to me and I will be gentlemanly enough not to bring up the subject. Once we're back in Serendipity with the cutter, you figure you'll be able to hop a rigger and return to the eastern provinces covered in glory. There you think you will be safe from western laws and customs, right?"

"As I said," Sariana stated demurely, "we can discuss the final resolution to our personal business when the cutter is safely back in Avylyn hands."

Gryph shook his head, still grinning. "And just what do you propose we do in the meantime?" She tilted her head questioningly. "About what?"

The last of his amusement faded. "About that single bunk in our cabin. About the fact that I want you more than I want my next breath. About your curiosity to find out if there really is more to passion than a thousand screaming nerve endings."

"I am no longer particularly curious about such matters!"

"Sure you are. You're intelligent and you're educated and you know damn well that there must be more to sex than what you found the other night."

She looked up at him, not trying to deny such an obvious truth. "I think it would be better if I satisfied my curiosity with another man," she said seriously.

Gryph was so astonished he nearly dropped the mug. "Another man? After we have already lain together?" It took him an instant to recover himself. He could tell by the curious expression on her face that she had no real notion of the effort it took to master the wave of possessive rage her words had unleashed within him. He finished off the last of the ale in one long gulp.

"Gryph? Are you all right?"

"Do us both a favor, Sariana." His voice was strained with the tension of containing his anger. "Don't ever talk to me of going to another man's bed."

"I'm sorry, Gryph," she said very earnestly. "I can see it upsets you."

He lifted his eyes beseechingly toward the stars. "You have a talent for driving me to the edge. Be careful that you don't succeed in pushing me over one of these days."

"I said I'm sorry, but you must try to understand this situation from my point of view. I don't consider myself married. You cannot, in all good conscience, expect me to submit to the rules and customs established by western First Generation tales. I don't believe in all your legends."

"I could make you believe in them."