“Sure,” I nodded, ignoring the way his hand wiped at the wetness on one of my cheeks. “As if it’ll make any difference. Tell me why you suddenly find me so desirable, Len.”
He hesitated briefly as he looked down at me, trying to see into me with his eyes rather than his shielded mind, then gave up the useless effort.
“I’ve always found you desirable,” he said, making it sound like a comment on the weather. “When I finally got to use you that night it didn’t end those feelings, it reinforced them. If you expected me to lie about the pleasure I felt, or act ashamed and pretend it never happened, you’re living in a dream world. I enjoyed having you under me, moaning and squirming and trying to pretend that you weren’t having just as good a time as I was. If it were my choice I’d do it again, here and now or wherever else we happened to be. Your mind welcomed me as warmly as your body did, and that was something I’d never had before, even during the times I’d taken a woman when awakened. Why shouldn’t I find you desirable?”
I looked away from him as I felt my cheeks flare with heat, wishing he hadn’t been so cold-bloodedly graphic. In point of fact he’d raped me that night, just as Garth had, and as far as I was concerned, it didn’t matter that he’d taken the trouble to make me enjoy it. But according to the laws of that world it hadn’t been rape, and my own opinion to the contrary didn’t matter; even if I had responded to him, even if he hadn’t hurt me as he could have; it still wasn’t right.
I said, “It strikes me as odd that you didn’t mention how desirable I was until after I helped you with that shield. Someone with an overly suspicious mind might have jumped to the conclusion that my desirability lay more in what I could do for you that way than in any other area.”
“Why, that’s utterly ridiculous,” Len laughed, but the laugh seemed a shade too hearty, and his shield stayed tightly in place. “If you won’t take my word for it, just ask any man around here. You’re a beautiful woman, Terry, and attractive even beyond that. Why else would so many men be interested in you?”
“So many men,” I echoed, seeing the difficulty he was having in keeping his gaze on mine. “Men like Garth, who considers important women a personal challenge, or like Daldrin, who had a taste of what a female empath could do for him in the furs, or Tammad, who needs an empath he can control, to help him build his shiny new world. Are those the admirers you’re talking about, Len? At least you’ve added your name to a distinguished roster.”
“All right, maybe I was thinking more about you as an empath than as a woman,” he suddenly admitted, his gaze now steady as he let me go. “But you can’t be serious about adding Tammad’s name to that list. Terry, he’s crazy about you, and you damned well ought to know it. What more does he have to do than he’s already done?”
“Ah, all those wonderful things he’s done,” I nodded, folding my arms. “Like kidnapping me from Alderan, and dragging me along with him against my will, beating me to make me obey him and trying everything he can think of to get me to work for him. But he’s succeeded in one thing I can’t deny, and that’s hooking me good and proper. That’s why I can’t believe anything he tells me.”
“Come on, Terry, you’re a trained Prime,” Len protested, a mixture of frustration and upset in his eyes. “Are you trying to make me believe that you can’t read Tammad well enough to know whether or not he’s lying to you? Even I could do that!”
“That’s because you’re not in love with him,” I muttered, turning away to stare at the faint footpath leading away from the pond and through the trees, back toward Aesnil’s palace. “If you were in love with him, everything he said would be weighted down with the lure of possible truth, a truth you couldn’t quite make yourself believe in. If you believed him and it was true, your life would be paradise from then on through forever. But if you believed him and it wasn’t true, the horrible, unending pain—I’ve already had a couple of tastes of that, Len. I think another taste would kill me. ”
I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes until his hands came to my arms, silent compassion and a pain-sharing flowing from his mind to mine. It seemed particularly odd that I, who could generate trust in anyone around me, couldn’t find any of that precious quantity for the one man in the universe I would give my life for. I tried to hold back my reaction to that feeling, but I’d held it back so long that it was overwhelming. Too much of it exploded from my mind—right at Len, who was wide open and entirely off guard. His strangled, tormented cry spun me around, just in time to see him fold bonelessly to the ground, his hands falling limply away from his head where he’d frantically pulled them. I stood rooted for one eternal instant, then turned and ran back up the path.
My race through the bushes and trees was one big blur of green and brown, punctuated by the reaching out of branches and roots, tearing at my gown and tripping my feet. The stroll out to the pond had taken about ten minutes; racing back at top speed took hours longer. I was on the verge of collapsing along with my lungs when I burst through the small side door of the palace, startling the guards so badly that they nearly drew on me before they realized I wasn’t attacking. I tried to speak through the heaving and gasping of my body, discovered it was impossible, then tried again anyway, waving my arm back in the direction I’d come from and mewling incoherently. The idiots didn’t understand the gestures or any of the single words I managed to force out, and when heavy, hurried footsteps brought more men on the scene, I found out why. The newcomers were Tammad’s l’lendaa, led by Loddar, a man of enviable composure. His immediate appearance with the other warriors from Tammad’s city let me know they’d probably been looking for me, and he stopped in front of me to put his hands on my shoulders.
“Calmly, wenda, calmly,” he soothed, speaking the Rimilian language with deliberate slowness. “Neither these other l’lendaa nor we understand the tongue of your people. You must speak in our tongue if we are to assist you.”
“Out . . . by the pond,” I gasped, this time speaking Rimilian in between panting. “Lenham . . . I have caused . . . him harm. You must . . . help him.”
Loddar frowned, but he turned to look at one of the three men stationed at the door.
“Do you know the location of this pond she speaks of?” he asked. “I would have her guide us to the place, were my denday not awaiting her return. The man in need of aid is a brother of ours. ”
“The pond is easily found,” answered one of the three, a man as large and blond as all Rimilian males were. The three guards wore baggy trousers and loose shirts and leather sandals rather than the simple haddinn of Tammad’s l’lendaa, and all three were sweating. “You need only follow the clear path into the small woods, which lies beyond the garden without this door. The path will lead you to the pond.”
“My thanks, l’lenda,” Loddar nodded, then turned to the four men with him. “Do you hasten to this pond and search out Lenham,” he directed in a low voice. “When you have returned with him, bring word to the denday of how he fares.”
“Plittar,” answered one of the four for all of them, a casual word carrying the general meaning of “anything you say,” with uncaring shrug appended, a word never used to a denday. They turned then and left the palace, stretching their stride but not really hurrying. If I’d had the breath I would have screamed at them to move faster, and then I remembered I didn’t need to shout or scream. I reached out to their four minds and planted a strident sense of urgency in front of their attention, and had the pleasure of hearing their steps turn into a trot before Loddar’s voice brought me back to the palace corridor.