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ASHLER
By
Amanda Steiger
© copyright December 2004, Amanda Steiger
Cover Art by Amber Moon, © copyright December 2004
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
"You’re getting married, Keelie, not being executed. Don’t look so grim."
Keelie sighed and leaned back in her seat, looking out the window at the star-scattered blackness of space. "I’ve never even met him, Meg."
"How bad can it be?" asked Meg. "Ashler House is the largest ruling family on the planet. He owns half the mines on Ria."
"So?"
"So that makes him one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy."
"That doesn’t mean anything, Meg. It doesn’t say anything about what he’s like as a person."
"He’s handsome, too. Have you seen him in those vidcasts? Such eyes! Eyes like that could hypnotize any girl. At the very least, you’ll have more luxury than you know what to do with. I’ll bet there are thousands of women all over the galaxy who wish they were in your position."
Keelie smiled weakly. "I shouldn’t tolerate such insolence from you, you know. Father says I’m too familiar with servants. But honestly, I think I’d be bored out of my skull if everyone around me was quiet and obedient. At least you don’t treat me like a treasure to be hoarded or bartered away."
"You’re not being bartered away, Keelie."
"What do you call it, then? My father doesn’t give a damn how I feel about this. He just wants to open up trade between Tarva and Ria. I’m a gift to gain Ashler’s goodwill."
"No one expects you to fall in love with him at first sight."
"And yet I’m expected to be subservient to him." She placed a hand on the window’s cool plastic as she stared out. Her home world, Tarva, had become a faint blue speck. She could scarcely recognize it among the stars. "I’m frightened, Meg."
Meg squeezed her hand. "It will be all right," she whispered. "You’ll see. I remember how frightened I was when I was first brought to your home. Everything seemed so new and strange. But I soon learned there was nothing to fear."
"You are luckier than most," Keelie said. "You could just as easily have ended up with someone cruel, someone who would beat you and starve you. How am I to know that won’t be my fate?"
"Lord Ashler isn’t like that. Have a little faith. Your father would not let you fall into the hands of a cruel man."
"I don’t have faith in anything right now." Keelie’s vision blurred with tears but she blinked them away. It had been a long trip, but it would be over soon. In a few days, they would land on her new home--on Ria. Keelie’s heartbeat quickened, more with fear than excitement. At least there’ll be plenty of new plants and animals to study, she thought. But even that prospect brought little comfort. She had no idea whether her new husband would even allow her to continue her studies.
She wished she could share Meg’s blind faith.
* * * *
Kalen Ashler sat in his study, a thick book sitting open on the desk in front of him. However, no matter how he tried to immerse himself in reading, he couldn’t concentrate. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids with long fingers.
Someone rapped lightly on his door. "My lord?"
"Amber, haven’t we known each other long enough to dispense with the formalities? Call me by my name. Please."
The door opened. A plump, middle-aged woman stood there smiling. Her curly hair, though still thick, was threaded with gray. "Traditions die hard."
Kalen replaced his glasses. "Maybe so, but I’m willing to club them on the head as many times as I have to. I take it my new bride has arrived?"
Bride. The word felt so strange.
When he first learned that Wendor al’Trega had offered his daughter as a bride, Kalen’s first impulse had been to refuse vehemently. He detested the sort of slave-trading that went under the name of arranged marriage. But he knew how proud the al’Trega family was ... and he knew that in Tarvan culture, to refuse a marriage offer was a grave insult, answerable only with laser-guns and warships. The last thing he wanted was a bloody feud. He’d had no choice but to accept. He wondered how the poor girl felt about the situation. She couldn’t be thrilled about being wedded to a stranger.
He took a deep breath and stood. "Where is she?"
"She waits in the great hall."
He nodded and left the room.
Ashler House, his ancestral home, was large and lavish. Intricate frescos covered the walls, depicting great battles, countryside or starscapes. The floor was cool, pristine white marble. Light-globes lined the hall, sitting on golden stands with stylized legs ending in small, claw-tipped paws. The ornate decorations had never suited his tastes, but they had been there long before he was born, and redecorating the house would be such a monumental undertaking that he just hadn’t bothered.
He walked through an arched doorway, into the great hall. A tall, bearded man stood there, dressed in carmine silk and furs. He had the pointed ears of a Tarvan and Kalen recognized him as Lord Wendor a’Tregor, his bride-to-be’s father. "Lord Ashler," Wendor said, bowing. The bow was stiff and formal and his voice expressed no emotion. "I am honored to be here."
"It is you who honor me. My, ah ... my home is brighter for your presence." He’d had to think a moment to remember the ritual words of greeting. "May fortune always walk beside you."
Wendor must have noticed the slip for his heavy brows drew together. Then the expression smoothed out. "As a gesture of goodwill toward you and your most honored family, I offer my most cherished possession--my youngest daughter, Keelie a’Tregor." He stepped aside and a young woman stepped forward. Her eyes were downcast, her face expressionless, but he sensed a storm of emotion brewing behind that quiet, obedient façade.
Kalen stared. Keelie’s simple white body-wrap was held up by a single strap on her left shoulder, fastened in place with a disc of gold resting just above her breast. The garment made no attempt to hide the shape of her high, firm breasts or her softly-rounded hips. If anything, it was designed to display her body. Though it covered all the essential parts, the fabric clung to every curve and crevice ... even that most intimate furrow between her slim, tanned thighs. His heartbeat quickened.
"She pleases my eyes," he murmured. He had not expected to mean the ritual words.
"Keelie," said Wendor. "Step forward. Allow your new husband to examine you."
Keelie took a slow, gliding step toward Kalen. Her skin was a soft, rich, light brown, her hair lustrous and dark. Two slim, delicate braids formed a crown decorated with tiny, clear gems. Her mouth was full and lush, a mouth made to be kissed. As he watched, a small, pink tongue crept out to wet her plump lower lip. Though the gesture seemed more nervous than sensual, it sent a rush of fire to his loins.
He wished she would raise her eyes, but she kept them politely downcast, her thick lashes hiding them.
Kalen pulled his gaze away with some difficulty, trying to ignore his pounding heart. "The ceremony shall be tonight, and a banquet will follow," he said to Wendor. "I pray you will stay and feast with us."
"I will and with gladness."
They bowed to each other again. Kalen straightened. "A servant will escort you to your rooms."
He turned and headed back toward his study.
A sudden twinge lanced through Kalen’s head, and he paused to lean against the wall, raising a hand to his temple.
He felt a soft hand on his arm. "Is something wrong, my lord?" Amber whispered.
"I’m fine," said Kalen.
"Is it the pain again?"
"I’m fine," he repeated firmly.
Amber looked at him with concern, but simply nodded. "I’ll escort the young lady to her room," she said. "Do take some of that medicine the healer gave you. Will you?"
"It doesn’t help," murmured Kalen. "Not anymore. I’ll go riding. That will take my mind off it for awhile at least."
"It won’t go away if you ignore it," Amber said quietly.
"I know," said Kalen. "I know. But there’s nothing else to be done."
She hesitated. "There is something. This marriage ... perhaps it was fated. If you...."
"No," Kalen said sharply. He glared at her. "I won’t consider it. I can’t believe you would even suggest such a thing. Don’t speak of it anymore."
Amber sighed. "Yes, Lord Ashler."
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