Ragnar: Dragon Lord of Wye Page 5

  Ragnar recognized one of Adelle’s mantras.

  “I need you here,” Korven said.

  “You don’t need me. Those Fremmians are desperate for the contract. Not even you could mess up negotiations at this point.”

  “Don’t underestimate me, cousin. So, will you join us at the Wye spaceport?”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “May the Celestial Mother guide you home.”

  “She already has.”

  Priya

  That did not go the way she expected. She dressed quickly back into her regular clothes of stretchy black pants and a long-sleeved shirt, aware the entire time of his heated gaze.

  The male was a furnace. The cabin was warmer with him in it. Trapped underneath him, a fine layer of perspiration formed. How could any one person be so blasted warm?

  He called his mating cycle a fever. Was it an actual fever? Was he sick? Did delaying sex hurt him?

  Priya tucked a leg underneath her in the cockpit, fixing her eyes on the console. She wanted to ask him questions about his Fever but was afraid that such questions might appear to be an invitation.

  Not that she was opposed to the idea of sex with him. She really, really liked the idea. Desire still tingled on her skin where he kissed her and lingered between her thighs. Stars, did she like the idea.

  But not until she got her family back. A deal was a deal. She wasn’t going to give away a bargaining chip until he delivered.

  A marriage of convenience. She snorted at the idea. Sure. Why would a lord pick her? He wouldn’t. He’d work out the mating frenzy, fever, whatever, in her bed and then he’d be gone. Fine by her. Men like him did not settle for women like her. She wasn’t completely naive.

  “Where are we headed, captain?” Ragnar settled into the navigator’s chair, next to her pilot’s seat.

  “We need fuel.” She had the course set for a close station, then back to Blackborn. The journey would last two days but the fuel gage emptied alarming fast. She should get the engine checked out while they were fueling. Maybe some valve or filter needed to be replaced.

  “Good. I require some small items.” Still bare chested, Ragnar did not seem to have a shred of self-consciousness.

  “Is a new shirt one of those small items?”

  “No,” he replied with a grin. Priya rolled her eyes.

  They sat in silence for several minutes.

  “Can I help you with something, your lordship?”

  “I find I desire to know more about my bride.”

  Another enthusiastic eye roll. “What do you want to know?”

  “This is your ship?”

  “No. It’s stolen,” she said deadpanned. He nodded, solemn. She laughed. “Wow. You really thought I stole a ship? Yes, this is my ship.”

  “You are bold. It would not surprise me.”

  Another laugh. She knew he was trying to be serious but steal this ship? If she was willing to risk prison for grand theft spacecraft, it’d be for something better than her current rust bucket.

  “What is your occupation?” he asked.

  “I do courier work.” She waved absently to the jobs board on her tablet. Updates kept the board constantly scrolling across the screen. “Mainly small packages for people who don’t want to wait on a slower, cheaper cargo freighter. Medical supplies, sometimes, when it’s got to get there fast. Or legal documents. Some things just have to be handed off in person. It’s a little old fashioned if you ask me but it pays the bills.”

  “Why have you not collected the top paying bounties?” He examined the list.

  “First off, they’re not bounties. I’m not a bounty hunter. I deliver packages. Huge difference. Second, I’d need a small army to get past that first guy’s private security.” The largest, outstanding job listed was to deliver divorce papers to a reclusive tycoon. Easy, in theory, but he had a heavily guarded compound on a remote asteroid. No one could get in spitting distance of him.

  “And the others? Some pay well.”

  Priya snatched the tablet away from him. “The pay scales with the risk. And what do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve been busting my hump the last month, running non-stop, trying to scrape together enough credit.” But it wasn’t enough. “Not that I’d expect you to understand what working is like, your lordship.”

  He leaned back in the seat, head tilted to one side. “You think I don’t work?”

  “I’m not sure how you noble types pass the time but I’m sure it’s not the nine-to-five grind.”

  “I have a job.”

  “Doing what? Parties and making the news networks does not count as gainful employment.”

  “I’m head of security for Prince Korven.”

  “He’s not a prince anymore, I thought.”

  “The Queen still expects him to be protected and still expects my reports.”

  Priya stretched her legs and flexed her feet, letting his words sink in. The playboy aristocrat had layers. “Then what’s with all the gadding about?”

  A slow, steamy smile spread on his face. “I’ve admired the Terran saying about all work and no play.”

  He was definitely a fan of playtime.

  “I have a question for you,” she said.

  “What is it you wish to know?”

  “The wedding. What should I expect?”

  “I have already pledged my oath to you and you accepted. You are, technically, already married.”

  “That bit about building a nest? That was your oath?”

  “Did I not ask your permission to build us a nest? A home?”

  She nodded. “So that’s it? That simple?”

  “Not everything has to be complicated.”

  “Then why do we have to go to Wye?”

  “My mother will insist on making it complicated. She’ll want a celebration, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “It is Wye tradition to have a party when you have your first Fever. No doubt she will combine those two events.”

  “Wait, you have a party when you go into your mating cycle?”

  He crouched at her feet and gently removed her boots. Flipping the boots over, he clucked his tongue at the holes worn clean through the soles. “How can you walk about in these things?”

  “They’re broken in.” She blushed, embarrassed at the state of her boots. The metal grating tore up the soles of cheap work boots and she could only afford the cheapest boots. At least her socks didn’t have holes in the toes.

  “They are a disgrace to you. I much prefer the shoes you wore to the opera. Those were fitting a beautiful female.”

  “You’ve got a thing for feet?” She tried to make her tone jovial.

  “I have a thing for you.”

  Her blush intensified. Setting aside the disgraceful boots, his fingers pressed into the arch of her foot. She melted in the chair, all the tension leaving her back and shoulders.

  Lord Ragnar did foot rubs. Unreal.

  “To answer your previous question, the Fever celebration is quite serious. The parents find a partner for their nestling, someone who can share the burden of the Fever. If the family is very traditional, they find a mate and arrange a union.”

  A party where your parents got you laid. “That’s so weird.”

  “What is a Terran wedding like, then? Tell me so I may scoff at your culture’s peculiarities.”

  “Well—stars, that’s good—we have a few traditions. Where my family is from, there is a big party but also a ceremony where we pledge our oath in front of family and friends.”

  “It is not private?” He sounded scandalized.

  “Nope, it’s very public. In fact, it’s a legal agreement and you have to get a special license.”

  “What! But that takes what should be a special moment between two people and turns it into… into…”

  “It’s still special. We trade vows and then exchange rings. They symbolize unending devotion, I guess.”

  “A ring?” Trust the me
ntion of treasure to perk the interest of a dragon. He switched feet and continued his ministrations. Stars, he really was good with his hands.

  “Does it upset you not to have your Terran traditions?” he asked.

  “My family will be there. That’s the important part. I don’t care about the dress or flowers or cake.”

  “There’s a dress now?”

  “Can’t walk down the aisle naked.”

  “But nude is the tradition on Wye.”

  The crooked grin on his face told her that he jested.

  “You are so full of it.” She placed her foot against his chest and gave a shove. He was solid as a wall but laughed.

  Fuel gage beeped on the console.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Priya focused all her attention on the engine read outs. “We’re losing fuel. Fast.” Faster than the instruments predicted. At this rate, they wouldn’t make their destination. There had to be leak in the fuel line. Another repair bill. She groaned inwardly at the unexpected cost.

  The computer quickly calculated the closest fuel stop: Kyle Moon Base. Not the best place but not the worst.

  “We got a change of plans.”

  “A good change or a bad change?”

  The absurdity of his question made her look away from the consol. “When is an alarm beeping on a spaceship a good thing? Bad, Ragnar. This is a bad thing.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Let me work. We’ll be at Kyle Moon Base in an hour. We should have enough fuel to make it.” They might ride in on fumes but they should make it.

  Chapter Six

  Priya

  “The hole goes clean through. You’re lucky you got here in one piece.” The mechanic closed the access panel, wiping his hands on a grimy cloth.

  A chill settled over her. She knew sabotage when she saw it but didn’t want to believe it. “Is it from wear and tear? The engine’s old.”

  “Miss, the entire ship is old, but that ain’t wear and tear. That’s deliberate. Someone didn’t want you getting too far.”

  Gracious. Had to be. She couldn’t keep an eye on her ship the entire time during her visit to his compound. While she was off begging for her family’s release, one of his minions took a knife to her fuel line and pump. Then he happily let her fly off, knowing that a breakdown was only a matter of time.

  “Why would someone do this?” Ragnar asked, baffled.

  “Because they wanted me stranded in the middle of nowhere, desperate for rescue.”

  “Who would do this?”

  “I know who,” she said, resting a reassuring hand on her male’s arm. He was agitated, growing more upset, but her touched calmed him. Turning her attention back to the mechanic, “How much and how soon can you have it fixed?”

  He quoted a price just short of highway robbery.

  “How much? It’s just a bit of plastic tubing.”

  “Listen, lady, models like these are small and fast. That means everything is compact to save space. It ain’t a matter of lifting up the hood and plugging in a new part. I’ve got to take out the whole system.”

  “Fine.” She juggled numbers in her head. She could afford it. Barely. “How soon?”

  “Twenty, twenty-four hours, tops.”

  “It’s sitting on the shop floor now!” Twenty-four hours was too long to wait, especially knowing now that Gracious had it out for her.

  “Yeah, for fuel. You want a repair, you go to the back of the line like everyone else. Twenty-four hours is the best I can do.”

  “Just do it,” she grumbled. Expensive and slow. That’s what she got for stopping at Kyle Moon Base. The former military base had new life as a mining operation run by crooks. Not that she had a choice. The Dashing Canard limped in. She was lucky to make it here in one piece.

  Another chill. Gracious’ hold on her family tightened. For the life of her, she didn’t understand why he was adamant about keeping her as a mistress. They never encountered each other on Blackborn, but she knew of him and his reputation. She was far from a conventional beauty. She kept circling back to the fact that she told him no. He didn’t take to rejection too kindly, apparently.

  “I guess we’re stuck here for the night,” she said, turning to Ragnar.

  He nodded. “I’ll get us a room. I will acquire appropriate clothing and we’ll have dinner.”

  “Are you taking me out on a date?” After all the negotiations for their business arrangement—she still couldn’t bring herself to think of their bargain as marriage—a date sounded so normal.

  His hair came undone from the knot, long dark strands hanging about his face. That grin, cocky and confident. He seemed wild. “I cannot guarantee the finest dining experience but we’ll find something edible.”

  “Anything. I don’t need fancy.”

  “You deserve the best.”

  Ha. That was rich. She had a broken-down ship, no money, and even her boots had holes in them. The best. Sure.

  “Come. I wish to spoil my mate.”

  Ragnar

  He noticed the way she flinched when he called her his mate. He noticed many things about Priya Barber: the way she stuck her tongue between her teeth when she thought, the tension she carried in her shoulders from too much worry, and the way her pulse raced when she looked at him.

  He deposited her at a day spa. She tried to protest the expense, that she didn’t need pampering, but he saw the way her eyes drank up the facility. The humble storefront catered to the wives of miners and the occasional traveler. It wasn’t high end luxury but they could provide the massage, facial, manicure and pedicure his mate deserved. He ordered those services, knowing Terran females enjoyed them as Korven’s mate gushed about the experience.

  With his mate settled, he had shopping to do.

  His first stop was to resole her boots. Priya would protest the expense of a new pair but might welcome a repair. He couldn’t imagine how anyone could go about their daily business with a hole in the sole of their shoes. Unacceptable.

  The next stop was a clothing shop. He described her shape and figure to the clerk and arranged for the garment and all accessories to be delivered to the spa before ordering clothing for himself. His wings required some modifications to be made to his shirts. While he waited for the alternations to be completed, he went to his final destination.

  Jewels sparkled in the display cases. The selection far exceeded his expectations. Then again, the base mined diamonds. The gemstone was not exceedingly rare or precious but had many industrial uses. Fortunately, it also sparkled prettily under the lights.

  “Can I help you, sir?” a Terran male asked.

  Ragnar gave a short description of what he desired. The clerk brought out of a tray and Ragnar deliberated. For the first time, uncertainly gnawed at him. His instinct was to go with the showiest, most attention-grabbing piece, but the question of what would Priya like niggled at him. What would she like? Something simple. Humble. This was a woman who wore a hole clean through her boots and still didn’t want to replace them.

  “If you’re having a difficult time reaching a decision, perhaps if you tell me of your intended? Then we can narrow down the selection.”

  What could he tell the male of Priya? She was bold; bold enough to ransom him, clever enough to devise a plan that worked, and loyal to her loved ones.

  There. He found it. The perfect ring.

  “That one.”

  “Are you certain, sir?”

  “I’ve never been more certain in my life.”

  Chapter Seven

  Priya

  Pampering.

  Unbelievable.

  The notion that she should unwind and relax while her family was enslaved sat heavy in her stomach. Still, she didn’t protest too hard about the massage or the facial. Or refuse the glass of complimentary wine. By the time the mani-pedi rolled around, she gleefully selected a shimmering gold polish.

  So, her moral high ground didn’t stand up too well to a deep tissue
massage or a hot towel on her face. She was stuck for twenty-four hours, she reasoned, and austerity would not repair the ship faster.

  The delivery of new clothes arrived with a fresh wave of guilt. Another gift from Ragnar. She didn’t like the way his gifts were stacking up. What could she give him? Beyond herself. The gifts were one-side and made her uncomfortable. Her initial reaction to the delivery was to reject it. There was nothing wrong with her everyday clothes, but the women in the spa ooed and ahhed over the gift. Priya was too embarrassed to send it back.

  The dress was a wine colored, flimsy thing with a deep v-neck and a short hem. The accompanying ivory silk bra and panties made Priya wonder if men actually knew what underwear was supposed to do beyond titillation.

  She elected to wear her own underwear and slipped on the dress. The waist hit her in the correct spot and the fit was good. Spinning in the mirror, Priya frowned at the obvious panty line. Turning the other direction, her frown deepened at how her breasts seemed too low for the neckline. With a sigh, she undressed and put on the new underwear. The bra was a miracle in silk and spandex, filling out the neckline perfectly and there was no panty line to be found. So maybe the titillating underwear had a point after all. She’d never admit it to Ragnar though.

  The final item in the delivery was a pair of open toe, black heels with straps and a heel so thin it was like being barefoot. Lord Ragnar had a thing for toes. He could deny it but Priya knew.

  Declared done, the spa released Priya clutching the bag of her perfectly serviceable but somehow not good enough for dinner clothes in a bag. She walked the bag back to the ship, where Ragnar found her. He wore new duds as well. Good. A shirtless Ragnar was… distracting.

  “You know you can pay credit in exchange for goods and services and have that delivered to the ship,” he said in a teasing voice.

  “Or I can save two credits and do it myself.”

  “Frugal. A good quality in a mate.”