He stood looking at the walls, the ceiling, making no comment.
"Earl?" She came toward him, painted nails glistening beneath the hem of her skirt, the long, supple lines of her thighs prominent at every step. "My dear aunt should be with us. She would be green with envy. We have nothing like this on-"
Her voice broke as he pressed his lips to her own.
"Earl?" Her voice was muffled. She pushed against him, and then her arms rose to tighten about his neck. Beneath the fabric of her gown her body was a soft and living flame. "Earl! Oh, my darling! My darling!"
He buried his face in the mane of her hair, found her ear, and whispered harshly, "Watch what you say, you fool! This place is full of electronic devices."
He felt her stiffen, the warmth of her sudden anger. As her hands fell from his neck, to press against his chest, he added, "We are being watched. Every word we say is being recorded. Why else do you think they gave us this suite?"
In return she whispered, "Is that why you kissed me? Just to stop my mouth?"
A woman scorned was a dangerous adversary. Outraged pride would blind her to the peril of released emotion.
"No," he said. "That wasn't the entire reason. You are a beautiful woman, and you know it."
"Just as long as you know it, Earl." Her voice was a purr. "And there can be no harm in this, can there? This and other things. After all, I am supposed to be your wife."
A position she wanted to take and one he could not safely deny. Another trap, but one into which any man would be eager to enter. The bait of her softness, her beauty, the promise Chan Parect had made. A fair exchange, perhaps, for the endless search for a forgotten world.
"Earl?"
Releasing her, he stepped back, his voice casual. "Later, my dear. First we must bathe and refresh ourselves. Our guests will be here shortly."
Like a born actress she fitted into her assumed part.
"You must not forget the commission, darling."
"True, but there is no hurry. We could spend a few days here, and possibly learn something of interest. The war cannot be old, or we would have heard about it." Dumarest moved to a window and stood looking down at the city. "No antiaerial defenses," he mused. "Of course, there could be lasers on the roof, but if so, they would be vulnerable to attack. Well, it is no problem of ours."
"True." She stretched, lifting her arms, throwing back her head, so that the coils of her hair hung loosely down her back. "I must see about replenishing my wardrobe. We left in such a hurry that I had hardly time to pack a thing. I wonder if they have new fashions here? Military worlds produce some odd combinations. Will it be possible to go shopping, do you think?"
"I imagine so."
"Later, after your conference?"
"We'll see."
"And will you help me pick some gowns, darling? You have such good taste when it comes to fashion. I am sure my aunt would think so. Of course, I had better not buy too many."
"At one time, no," he agreed. The conversation was banal, but safe. They would hardly be expected to wait in silence, and after a hard journey, a release of passion would be normal.
But Zenya was not satisfied with a kiss.
"We had better bathe now, Earl. Will you help me, please?"
"I'll just take a shower."
"We'll both take one." She looked at him, her eyes alight, lips swollen with anticipation, and he remembered the archives on Paiyar, the expression he had recognized. Desire, yes, but more than that. A touch of cruelty, of innate sadism, his inability to refuse accentuating her enjoyment. "Now, Earl."
"A moment. I will join you."
"We have little time."
"I know, so don't waste any."
She was naked when he reached the bathroom, the gown a pool of scarlet on the decorated tiles, jewelry thrown aside in careless haste. Stripping, he followed her into the shower, turned the water on full, the blasting roar from the high-intensity spray drowning his words from any listening ear.
"Don't forget that we are being watched."
"Does it matter, darling?" The wetness of her body was like oiled silk as she pressed against him. "We are married, remember?"
"Married, but not a show."
"You are too delicate." Her arms wound around him. "I don't care if an entire world is watching. I love you, Earl. I want you. Damn you, can't you see that? I want you!"
And then there was only the water, the pungent scent of perfume, the impact of her body, and an infinity of expanding softness.
Chapter Six
Seated at the head of the table, Colonel Paran said with military punctiliousness, "The situation facing us is one peculiar to this planet. Unless it is resolved, it will destroy our financial structure; therefore it is imperative that all operations be conducted on a basis of minimum destruction. It would be interesting, Earl, to learn if you have come across a similar situation, and the means you devised to conclude it."
Dumarest leaned back in his chair, not answering, studying instead the others at the board. Colonel Paran had not come alone. With him were two others, both men of middle age, uncomfortable in their uniforms of maroon and gray. Colonel Oaken was plump, with a worried frown ingrained between his eyes. Colonel Stone was thin, harassed.
He said, "You don't answer. May I ask why?"
"Before I could even begin to answer, I would need far more information. There is no one sure formula for winning a war. If there was, the worlds I represent would have no purposeful existence."
Paran caught the hint. "Of course, as a mercenary you cannot be expected to give advice without recompense. That has been considered. You will not find us ungenerous." His eyes drifted to his companions. "That is agreed, gentlemen?"
"Well, I'm not too sure about that." Oaken was cautious. '"It depends on the value of the advice. Words come cheap when that is all that is supplied."
"Then it seems that this conference is at an end." Dumarest rose. "Thank you, gentlemen. There is no point in wasting further time."
"A moment." Paran waited until he regained his seat. "Earl, I will be frank with you. Chard is unused to war. We have uniforms, bands, some weapons, and eager volunteers, but that is about all. The thing came on us so quickly that we had little warning, and less time to prepare. Let me put you into the picture. Our main crop, the one on which our economy depends, is lofios-a plant which provides fruit, fiber, and rare oils for the making of perfumes and unguents. We also have a native form of life, manlike and, as some suggest, the descendants of an early wave of settlement."
"The Ayutha," rumbled Oaken. "Savages."
"Not exactly," protested Stone. "Primitive, perhaps, or so we always thought. Barbaric, even, but not savage."
"After what they've done?"
"Gentlemen!" Paran slammed his hand on the table. "This is no time for personal opinions. We are faced with facts. Let us deal with them."
"Homand," rumbled Oaken. "Maysown. They are facts enough."