But into that tense silence a door could be heard opening, and then Shanelle heard a most welcome voice asking, “Are we interrupting?”
“No!” Shanelle gasped out in relief.
Her eyes flew open to locate her brother, but were arrested by Falon’s expression instead. The warrior was looking very pleased now, and Shanelle’s face flamed with color as she realized that he hadn’t really lost his temper, he’d just wanted her to think so in order to intimidate her. Although she hadn’t backed down and changed her tune to save herself from a clobbering, she’d still let him see that he could intimidate her.
Shanelle completely forgot that her brother and probably the rest of his party had just entered the room. Her mind centered on one thing and exploded in wounded pride. She didn’t even think about what she was doing. She just hooked her foot behind Falon’s knee, pulled him off-balance with it, and pushed with both fists into the center of his chest at the same time. It worked perfectly, or would have if Falon had let go of her arms. Instead he grunted as he fell backward, and Shanelle shrieked as she went down with him. And he still wasn’t angry, if the sound of the beginning of chuckling could be believed.
Shanelle scrambled to her feet only so she could glare down at Falon. “The next time you get angry, you farden jerk, you damn well better be angry! I won’t be tested like that. You want to know my reactions, well, you just got one!”
“Indeed,” he agreed, and he was definitely chuckling. “I mind not your temper, kerima, as long as you remember that you do mind mine.”
“Go to-!”
“Sham!”
Her face flamed again with color, mortified color this time. You didn’t do what she’d just done to a warrior-at least not in front of other warriors. The warning in Dalden’s voice reminded her of that, and she was cringing as she turned to face him, hoping only Dalden was there. But no such luck. Yet only Dalden was showing any warrior outrage. Falon’s kin looked as amused as Falon still sounded. Donilla, who was with them, merely looked incredulous.
Shanelle decided it might be prudent to explain to her brother at least. “I was provoked-”
“That is no excuse-” Dalden started to interrupt.
“Leave her be,” Falon cut in as well as he stood up behind Shanelle and drew her back against him possessively. “She is mine now to discipline, yet for this none is needful. I will learn not to be so easily felled by her trickery, and she will learn by example what will be tolerated and what will not. Thus do we teach each other.”
“But she knows better than to be so disrespectful,” Dalden said.
“Do not remind her of your Kan-is-Tran ways, my friend. Ba-Har-ani women are allowed more freedom to express themselves, and Shanelle will be a Ba-Har-ani.”
Shanelle would have liked to retort that she wasn’t yet, but she wasn’t foolish enough to remind Falon that he’d forgotten about seeing to that. And her curiosity had been snagged anyway by that intriguing remark of his.
She turned her head to ask Falon, “How much freedom are we discussing here?”
“I believe you have exceeded your limit for this rising,” he replied with a grin. “Go and greet your brother now as is proper, and apologize for shaming him with your behavior.”
Shanelle’s mouth dropped open. “You just said I was allowed-”
“He feels otherwise, as you well know.”
She did know it, but it was galling to have Falon remind her of that, and worse to have his hand come to her bottom and gently shove her toward her brother. She spared a moment to turn and give him the most fulminating look she could manage. The farden jerk only laughed.
Chapter 30
Dalden got no more than a whispered apology, though it was sincere, for Shanelle knew how real his displeasure was with her. He might be half Kystrani like her, but he was a Kan-is-Tran warrior right down to his bones, and as inflexible about certain things as they all were. And one of those things was that all women show proper respect for warriors, because a woman could get seriously hurt if she goaded her warrior into losing his temper with her. And any woman who ignored that golden rule was almost guaranteed punishment.
Where had that bit of knowledge flown to when she had goaded Falon, called him a jerk-pushed him over? Her own loss of temper was no excuse. Dalden was right, she did know better. And yet she wouldn’t have learned what she did if it hadn’t happened. Freedom to express herself any way she chose? What an unwarriorlike concept. What an amazing advantage if it was true. But when she questioned her brother about it, she got no assurances.
“Falon has asked that I refrain from telling you what I know,” she was informed. “He wants you to bring your questions to him as is proper for a lifemate to do, thus enabling you to know each other better the sooner.”
Needless to say, Shanelle wasn’t pleased by that idea at all, and retorted, “He’s not my lifemate yet, Dal.”
“You know it is as good as done.”
That was true as long as she was in the same room with Falon, where all he had to do was say the words, no matter if others were present with them. So that quickly became her number one priority, getting out of that warrior’s sight and staying out of it. Unfortunately, that was easier hoped for than accomplished.
Shanelle had a few moments to speak privately with Donilla while Falon’s kin teased him about the great odds he’d had to overcome to rescue her-they’d seen the two little males still lying unconscious in the other room. “I’m sorry about your sister, but I was too angry not to sock her one after what she did to me.”
Donilla knew her sister well enough to have figured out what that was without having to be told. “I should be the one to apologize,” she said. “Lanar really overstepped herself this time, and she’ll be called to account for it, likely losing some of her authority.”
“Well, don’t do it on my account. But you might want to drop by here once a day for a while.” At Donilla’s questioning look, Shanelle added, “I had a little Altering rod talk with Lanar’s two slave-handlers, just to even the score, you understand.”
Donilla nodded. “Appropriate, I would say.”
“I thought so.”
“But what about you? After seeing for myself what you were trying so desperately to avoid, I’m really sorry we weren’t able to help.”
Shanelle shrugged. “So am I, but I was probably doomed to fail the moment they managed to get their hands on a ship that was faster than mine.”
“I could cause a disturbance while you try and slip away,” Donilla offered.
“Thanks, but you can’t slip away from a Mock II that easily, and my father’s Mock II is monitoring this room right now. Brock would simply use Transferring to set one of these warriors down right in front of whatever direction I take. That sort of defeats the purpose in trying.”
“You sound so hopeless. Isn’t there anything else you can do?”
“Not until I’m back on Sha-Ka’an and away from computers that can screw up good escape plans. Anyway, it’s easier to disappear when you can be inconspicuous. I couldn’t have been that here.”
“An understatement,” Donilla replied ruefully. “But I do wish you luck.”
“Same here, since you’ve got your own problems that you might want to think about resolving. You never know, your men might have learned a thing or two by now-at least that your planet didn’t fall apart under female governance.”
Donilla returned Shanelle’s grin. “That’s true. Ah, it looks like your brother just got disturbed about something. He doesn’t have exceptional hearing, does he?”
Shanelle glanced over her shoulder and grimaced, seeing Dalden scowling darkly at her. “No, what he’s got is a computer-link unit. Farden hell. Brock probably just told him what we were talking about, that interfering eavesdropper. I’d better go.”