The Intergalactic Duke's Inconvenient Engagement Read online

  He shrugged. “I have the Grandy now.”

  “That’s a big responsibility too,” she noted.

  His rogue’s grin returned. “But should I need to run, her engines would take me to the stars.” He peered past her to the suite’s sitting room. “Lady Trixie,” he said with that sly smile deepening. “Talking to aliens yet?”

  The young woman glided toward them, the plush Thorkon robe trailing behind her like royalty. “Only nice ones,” she said and triggered the door panel to close.

  Rayna swore she heard a muffled laugh from the other side of the door as she followed Trixie into the suite.

  Lishelle was curled on the deep couch cushions, snoring softly with her hands flattened in a prayer position under her cheek. Trixie followed Rayna’s glance. “Maybe it doesn’t look like it, but we were so worried for you. She hated that we were afraid and stayed behind. She said we should go after you.” The young woman lifted her stricken gaze to Rayna’s. “It’s my fault we didn’t follow,” she confessed. “I’m a big, dumb chicken.”

  “And I’m a little honey-bird,” Rayna muttered as she threw herself down on the couch across from Lishelle who sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  She focused on Rayna and jolted straighter. “You’re back,” she exclaimed. “Oh, Ray. I was so…” She sidelonged a glance at Trixie. “Well, we knew you could do it.”

  Rayna smiled at the other women. “Really, I don’t think even I needed to be there tonight. They just wanted an excuse to have a ball.”

  Trixie twisted her hands together. “I would’ve been so scared.”

  “Terrified the whole time,” Lishelle agreed, “that my skirts would’ve flown away without me.”

  Rayna forced a laugh. “They almost did.” She regaled them with a few stories of the zero-G dancing and the ghost-mead and the strange beings who had filled the ballroom.

  She left out the parts with the Duke of Azthronos.

  But as she was gesturing, imitating the wagging tentacles of an Ajellomenes alien, Trixie leaned forward with a gasp. “You have an engagement ring!”

  Lishelle leaned back with an impish grin. “Seems like you’re leaving off part of the story. The good part. Was there kissing?”

  “Who was it?” Trixie pressed.

  Lishelle guffawed. “Mr. Fine and Dandy Duke, of course.”

  Holding her hand out to the pawing Trixie, Rayna sighed. “It’s not real.”

  Trixie held it up to the light, and dazzling sparkles shot across the room. “Seems real.”

  “I mean…the rock is real, but the engagement isn’t.”

  Trixie let her go. “Why not? You obviously like him.”

  Rayna sputtered. “That’s not… I mean, I just met him a few days ago.”

  “I know it’s fast,” the younger woman said. “But…considering we’ve crossed interstellar distances in just days, maybe ‘too soon’ is relative now.”

  Rayna blinked at her in surprise. For such a quiet, nervous, little thing, Trixie had some depths.

  Lishelle nodded. “And with the time distortion around a black hole, you can make the engagement last as long as you want.”

  With a suspicious glance between the two women, Rayna slumped back into the cushions. “How’d you guys learn so much about space? I thought you were avoiding memories that’ll need to be erased.”

  “Captain Nor downloaded the remake of Cosmos for us,” Lishelle said. “Those are memories we can keep.”

  Trixie grinned. “And Neil deGrasse Tyson is at least as sexy as your duke.”

  Rayna huffed out a breath. “He’s not my duke. He belongs to his whole solar system.”

  “Which makes it pretty special that he chose you”—Trixie patted her knee—“of all the beings in the universe.”

  Just thinking about the vastness of space and the improbability of them ever encountering each other made her want to hyperventilate. Instead, she thanked her friends for waiting up for her and slipped away to her bedroom. Stripping off the destroyed gown outside the sonic shower, she stared down at the ring.

  Should she leave it on the gown rather than risk it washing down the drain? Was there a safe deposit box somewhere in the room, like in hotel rooms? She should’ve given it back to Raz before she ran away.

  Damn it, she didn’t run away… Okay, she had, but for a very good reason.

  As she stepped into the shower—her hand clenched tightly around the ring band—she just wished she could remember why.

  Chapter 13

  The next morning, they received word that the Earth envoy was inbound, with Rayna’s sister close behind. Too impatient—and frazzled from a sleepless night that no amount of good export coffee could cure—to wait in their suite, Rayna dressed in one of the Thorkon day gowns that the dowager’s staff had left for her and announced her intention to go for a walk.

  “I hope you find Duke Dandy,” Trixie said. “Maybe kiss him again, to be sure he’s the one. The universe is a big place, you know. Plenty of dukes.”

  When Rayna tried to explain she was walking for exercise, Lishelle had done some elaborate eyebrow waggling and mm-hmmed with obvious disbelief.

  Though she couldn’t quite stomp in her soft wedge slippers, Rayna did manage to flounce in the wide skirts. Though the day dress wasn’t as elaborate as the ballgown, the tissue-thin, layered construction was similar. Too similar. The delicate feathering of gauze around her ankles reminded her of Raz’s fingers locked over her skin before she’d stepped away from him.

  He’d promised her one night, but it had felt like so much more than that, and then when he’d offered to walk her back to the suite through the servants’ corridor so that no one saw them… She knew he’d just been trying to spare her any gawking, especially when she’d looked so thoroughly, obviously fucked. And she wasn’t mad at him for that. But the moment had made it crystal clear to her how far apart they were, even if invisible forces had somehow pushed them together, just for that night.

  The envoy and her sister were coming. She had to focus on that and forget everything else even if the memory wipe wasn’t necessary.

  She walked through the silent, empty ballroom. A few dimly lighted globes still drifted aimlessly among the columns, like ghosts of drinks and dances past. They eddied slowly behind her in the draught of her passing then stilled as she let herself out onto the balcony.

  From here, she had a grand view across the valley where the estate was nestled. Guests from the night before strolled through the gardens in small groups, and a distant twitter like voices or birdsong carried on the perfectly temperate air. In the daylight, the protective dome that covered the estate glowed softly, like the scrambler Raz had triggered to protect them from prying eyes. She twisted the ring on her finger, and it caught the sun with brilliant refractions.

  If only this carefully managed daylight brought clarity the same way last night had delved into her deepest, neediest fantasies.

  The way Raz had delved into her.

  Her knees weakened at the memory—which had played back to her in glorious detail in the dreams that kept waking her last night—and she braced her palms on the wide rail. The floating cloud of her skirts had bumped them together right here, and his hands cupped under her ass had lifted her right—

  The soft susurration of the balcony doors parting brought her around. She turned, knowing she shouldn’t hope to see him and her heart soaring anyway…

  It crashed down while she stared at the suspended round eye of what was clearly a recording device. The camera hovered next to the shoulder—or maybe head; anyway, uppermost tentacle—of an Ajellomene. Raz had told her that the starfish-shaped alien was an assistant producer with Octiron Media, and he’d been painstakingly diligent about keeping her at the far side of the ballroom from the Octiron crew.

  “They can still see you from there,” he’d growled. “They don’t need any closeups or questions.”

  Well, now they had at least one. She swallowed hard. She wasn’t a fan of re
ality television—there was always far too much yelling and crying and lying for her tastes—but she’d seen enough memes to know how it worked. She’d just never imagined that she’d have to face it herself.

  But she didn’t need anyone running defense for her. She sucked in her cheeks and, with a stiff, polite nod, took a few steps to the side, ready to circle around toward the open doorway.

  The starfish didn’t really look like it moved, but somehow it was facing her—not that it really had a face—the camera at eye level. “Lady Rayna,” it burbled, as if it was still underwater. “I’m sorry I missed you last night in your beautiful gown. We had to make do with a distant establishing shot.” It made a tisking sound. “This costume is quite fetching too. We can get a body shot now and splice the footage together as needed.”

  She forced herself to keep her expression neutral even as her mind raced. If the creature and its crew only wanted a fashion parade, that she could do. She took a step back. “Azthronos is known throughout the galaxy for its fine textiles,” she said carefully, quoting from the guidebooks she had read just in case they were filming. “Second only to the export of ghost-mead.” She restrained a wince at her stilted rendition. But maybe it was better to be boring in front of this crew and they could find some other victim.

  “Oh, we exported some of that tasty ghost-mead in our bellies last night.” The starfish chortled, and actual bubbles popped up along its skin. “Delightful.” The camera zoomed toward her, stopping less than an arm’s length away. “So tell us about the ring. The Eye of Zalar, yes?”

  Rayna stiffened, taken aback by the abrupt transition and even more abrupt invasion of her space. “It is, yes.”

  “Quite the token of esteem from the Duke of Azthronos.”

  Unwilling to put a name to whatever Raz was feeling, Rayna stared past the camera. “You should get a quote from him.”

  “We already did.”

  She settled back on her heels, eyeing the starfish suspiciously, desperately wishing she could ask to see the footage. “Then I suppose that is the duchy’s official position.”

  The Ajellomene’s tentacles folded in on themselves. “Most of the words he used are ones we can’t broadcast in family programming due to intergalactic obscenity rules.” It chortled again, without the bubbles, like a fake laugh. “You’ll have to tell us properly, Lady Rayna. An inquiring universe wants to know.”

  Know what? If Raz loved her back? If she could find the courage to take a chance on opening not just her mind—not just her body either—but her heart?

  Before she could ask for the too intimate clarification, the starfish continued, “Since the Open Worlds For All consortium has arranged for you to take possession of Blackworm Station as reparation for your ordeal, will you seek a different love among the stars? Or will the Destitute Duke win your affection even if the rest of his inherited investments are a loss?”

  “I don’t…” She fisted her hands in her skirts rather than give in to the urge to palm the camera backward and make her escape. “That station isn’t mine. I was kept there against my will.”

  “With the other Black Hole Brides. Which is why the galactic council agreed to the terms, since your closed world couldn’t protect you.” All the Ajellomene’s tentacles flowed hungrily toward her. “Or…perhaps since the Earth envoy isn’t here yet, you haven’t heard the details of your settlement.”

  “No,” she said faintly, her pulse starting to race.

  “So delightful!” The tentacles whipped toward the camera. “Closeup on her face.”

  The doorway was blocked. Rayna glanced over her shoulder toward the balcony railing. If she still had anti-gravs, maybe she’d risk the jump. But she wanted to know what the miserably intrusive producer so obviously wanted to tell her. Reluctantly, she twisted back. “I know some of it,” she lied. “But as a closed-worlder, of course there’s only so much I can understand.” She’d hate herself later for seeming clueless. No, she’d hate Raz later for making her clueless.

  She’d inherited a space station?

  “Welllllll…” The Ajellomene drawled the word like a black hole sucking in every atom of matter and every photon of light. “The Open Worlds For All consortium won a judgment on behalf of you and the other brides from the galactic council who are tasked with protecting all the worlds. And obviously failed.” It waved a tentacles at her by way of proof.

  “But we weren’t at that meeting. I’ve never even heard of that consortium.” Her heart was pounding hollowly now. People—invisible people from far away, even if that far away was Earth—were controlling her life as if they had the right. As if they were another Blackworm.

  The starfish sniffed. “The universe is too big for every interested party to be consulted.”

  She managed not to shout in frustration. “I’m not every party. I’m the party.” She couldn’t believe how much she sounded like an arrogant alien duke…

  Once she would’ve avoided talk like this, being drawn into drama that only caused more problems. She’d had enough of that after Mom walked out. But where had that defensive response taken her? To Sunset Falls, Montana, where she’d hunkered down until Blackworm stole her.

  Maybe channeling a touch of aristocracy wasn’t such a bad idea.

  She fixed the Octiron producer with a flat, ducal stare. “Explain.”

  “Blackworm Station belongs to you and the other four brides. A station like that is very valuable. No one knows why Blackworm chose that location—cryptologists and dataologists, including your sister’s mate—are still decoding his records. But the station could be moved anywhere, become anything. Or even be broken down for parts. Lady Rayna, you are a very wealthy woman. And your friends too.” The starfish burbled again. “Why, I’m surprised you weren’t abducted again last night by some needy noble with empty pockets and dubious morals.” The tentacles canted toward her, all the tips pointed at the ring on her tightly clenched fist. “But I suppose the Duke of Azthronos had you already.”

  The starfish rambled on, but Rayna barely heard a word, her heart pounding too hard to push her suddenly icy blood through her veins. Like the gentleman he was, Raz had said he was protecting her. Just for the night.

  Or just long enough to claim her space station?

  Despite the perfect temperature control of the domed estate, a racking chill coursed through her bones. Raz had hinted that the duchy had financial troubles, that his inheritance had come at a price. Was that price perhaps equal to a bequeathed space station?

  Was he protecting her or planning to steal from her? Had he placed her off limits to other fortune hunters, or did he think he could lock her up for himself?

  All the old fears that she’d thought dead and long-buried clawed up out of her gut like zombies. Ugh, as if aliens weren’t bad enough. She was a kid again and watching Mom walk out the door, knowing in her heart it was the last time she’d see her. Knowing that her family relied on her now and knowing she had no idea what to do next. Tears she hadn’t shed then prickled in her eyes now. And the whole terrible experience was being caught on camera for the universe to see. But she had her pride; in that, she was very much like Raz.

  She lifted her chin and gave the Octiron producer a thin smile. “You might need to change the title of the segment to Astral Heiresses,” she said coolly. “Or maybe Singularity Shareholders. Maybe just simply Black Hole Businesswomen. Now that has a ring, doesn’t it?”

  The starfish froze, and the unblinking eye of the camera seemed to widen. “Not brides?” The tentacles began to rise again in excitement. “Is the engagement off already?”

  Reyna tucked her chin and batted her eyelashes at that camera. “Stay tuned,” she purred.

  Twisting on her slippered sole–thank all the gods of Azthronos that she wasn’t wearing the crystal heels – she glided toward the double doors, weaving around the rest of the motionless crew with a regal nod. She turned to face them one more time with a dazzling smile and, borrowing a trick from little Tr
ixie, she yanked the double doors closed.

  Whirling around, she sagged with her back against the doors, her eyes squinching shut in shock and hurt. Where was Raz? He’d left her to face these questions all alone.

  The big rock on the ring prodded her spine, and she straightened with a snap. But he was the cause of all these questions! She had sworn to herself that she would never feel this way again – lost, confused, abandoned – and yet she let him do exactly that to her.

  She raced through the ballroom, determined not to be trapped again, and was dimly aware of some of the guests watching her hurry by. Their speculative murmurs drifted behind her like the untethered glowing lights. Damn Raz.

  She burst out through the grand doors where she and her friends had first entered the estate and swayed to a stop at the top of the wide, shallow steps. In the open swath below were two spaceships, obviously just arrived as the scent of superheated metal wafted toward her on the gentle estate breeze. One of the ships was quite large and officious with unreadable hieroglyphics marking its prow. The other was much smaller, sleek and maybe a little dangerous looking. Even as her gaze locked on the smaller ship, its hatch opened and a gangplank lowered. Before the plank hit the ground, a tall, sturdy figure in now familiar ships fatigues leaped to the ground. Rayna would know that confident stride anywhere in this galaxy or any other.

  “Vaughn!” she cried.

  Her sister gazed upward, then with answering cry bolted up the steps. They met in the middle in a tangle of arms that nearly knocked them both off the stairs. Only Vaughn’s sturdy boots saved them as Rayna’s slippers skidded sideways.

  “Oh my God, sis,” Vaughn gushed. “You look like a freaking princess.”

  “Almost accidental duchess,” Reyna muttered. “You look like...a space pirate.” She held her little sister at arm’s length and frowned at the combat-style ships fatigues.

  Vaughn laughed. “Freelance lost asset recovery specialist,” she corrected. “With my partner, Dejo Jinn.” She gestured behind her at the tall, lean alien striding up the stairs. “Without him, I wouldn’t have found you.”