Chapter 3

Kalpar watched his new charge as she stood out on the balcony staring out into the distance, an unwilling flicker of compassion stirring at the sight of her hunched posture and despairing attitude. She was nothing like he'd expected. He'd assumed Marshall's daughter would be a spoiled arrogant female - the feminine counterpoint of her father. Instead she was small and shy, with an air of fragility which called to his almost forgotten protective instincts.

Her delicate beauty didn't help. He knew human females could be attractive - several of the former warriors from his squad had found human mates - but he'd never encountered anyone as lovely as this little human. Several silvery blonde curls had escaped the knot at the nape of her neck, framing her delicate features. Her soft pale skin made it easy for him to watch the rapid beat of the pulse at the base of her neck, and his mouth watered. It would be so easy to sink his fangs into that tempting little spot.

His fangs? The thought shocked him. A Catari's fangs never emerged unless he was in a mating frenzy and Kalpar had long since accepted that there would be no mate in his future. It is merely an assertion of dominance, he assured himself.

As if sensing the danger she faced, she shivered and then returned to the sitting room. Despite her small size, she moved with a surprising grace, her white dress drifting around her slender body as she paced from one end of the spacious room to the other. As he leaned against the wall and watched her, he found himself wondering about the body beneath the voluminous gown. With those small breasts and slender hips, he doubted that she had many curves, but at the same time there was an indefinable something about her that suggested a hidden sensuality.

And her father thought Lord Vexian was the appropriate male to awaken that sensuality? The thought disturbed him far more than it should. Although he had never encountered the other male, his reputation was well known in Port Cantor. Unlike Marshall Thompson, Vexian made little effort to conceal his illicit activities, relying on bribery and threats to avoid the law. Kalpar hated the thought of this delicate female in Vexian's brutish hands.

It is not my concern, he reminded himself. He was here for one purpose only—to find out why Marshall Thompson was so interested in the land he and his fellow warriors owned. Their land consisted of a small cluster of previously abandoned farms that they were in the process of rehabilitating. The property was located a considerable distance from Port Cantor, and it possessed no intrinsic value of which they were aware. They weren't even close enough to the coast, let alone any larger settlements, to be useful for storing stolen goods.

And yet Marshall had made at least two previous attempts to infiltrate and survey the farm. He was clearly searching for something, but they had no idea what. Kalpar had made it his mission to find out, even if that meant using Marshall's daughter as a pawn. No matter how distasteful the idea seemed currently, protecting his fellow warriors was more important than this frail human.

The site of her distress still bothered him, and he found himself speaking.

"Have you eaten?"

"What?"

She gave him a startled look, as if the idea of food was strange to her. Perhaps her body was so fragile because she didn't pay attention to such things. That at least he could remedy. He strode over to the communication panel and ordered a light meal to be delivered.

"I'm really not hungry," she protested, but he ignored her. He had accepted the responsibility for her well-being, even for the short time he expected to be a member of the household, and his future plans didn't change that responsibility.

His position as her bodyguard had been an unexpected stroke of luck. One of his contacts had arranged to have him interviewed for a position as a household guard. However, when he'd come to apply, Warshan, the chief of Marshall's security forces, had given him an appraising look.

"Is it true that a Catari male is incapable of being aroused by anyone other than his mate?"

There was a slight sneer behind the question, but he ignored it and nodded. It actually wasn't entirely true – there was a brief period during a male's adolescence when his body could experience arousal. Like most Catari males he had taken advantage of that time, but he had found it neither pleasurable nor rewarding. As soon as he reached full adulthood even such unsatisfactory attempts were no longer possible. Since that was also the time at which he decided to leave his home planet and join the Alliance forces, he had known there would be no mate in his future. He had considered the sacrifice worthwhile in order to escape.

Shaking off the unpleasant memories, he went to answer a discreet knock on the door. A young serving maid stood outside with a tray, giving him a wide-eyed look. He took the tray from her trembling hands and dismissed her, ignoring her ineffectual attempt to protest.

After placing the tray on a small table near the windows, he checked the contents. A bowl containing colorful cubes of fruit, an assortment of cheeses and thinly sliced meats, and a selection of small, sweet cakes, plus a pitcher containing an effervescent, but non-alcoholic liquid, all beautifully prepared and arranged. Next time he would specify a hot dish as well, but it would do.

"Eat," he ordered.

"I told you I'm not hungry," she said defiantly, but then her stomach rumbled.

"Your body betrays you. Do you think that refusing to eat is a reasonable way of defying your father? Or me? I fail to see the logic in making yourself weaker when you are already so frail."

Her small chin lifted at that and she glared at him. He found her defiance unexpectedly pleasurable. Her father had not succeeded in completely crushing her spirit.

When she continued to look at him defiantly, he strode over to pick up one of the cubes of fruit and held it out to her.

"Open. Now."

"That's ridiculous! You don't expect me to let you feed me, do you?"

"If necessary."

He could see her wavering as the scent of the fruit drifted to her nose, but he was sure her refusal had more to do with stubborn pride than lack of hunger.

"Eat, Constance."

When he traced the cube over her pretty mouth, hunger won out and she accepted it, wrapping her soft little lips around the cube. Her mouth brushed against his fingers in the process, sending an unfamiliar jolt of sensation through his body. Frowning at the unexpected reaction, he took a step back and gestured at the tray again.

"Now eat. Unless you wish me to feed you the rest?"

To his surprise, she gave him an unreadable look and then obeyed, seating herself gracefully into the chair next to the table. Instead of proceeding, she toyed with her fork for a moment, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you want to join me?" she asked hesitantly.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I doubt your father would approve," he said dryly.

Her shoulders sagged, but then she lifted her chin and gave him that same defiant look.

"So?"

He hid a smile as he shrugged and joined her, ignoring the faint color in her cheeks. He did enjoy her spirit, but his enjoyment was irrelevant. He was here for information and nothing else.

Once she had started eating, it was clear that she was in fact hungry. He surreptitiously checked to be sure she was eating enough, confining himself to sipping on the sparkling juice.

After she had finished, she nibbled at one of the sweet cakes, closing her eyes and making soft little sounds of pleasure as she savored the taste. Those same soft sounds threatened his iron control as she licked crumbs from her fingers, but he successfully ignored her sensual enjoyment. When she had finished, he gave her a stern look.

"Do you intend to bathe before retiring?"

"Bathe? What… what does that have to do with you?"

Her cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink as she reached for her juice, and he allowed himself to show his amusement at her discomfort.

"Just determining our next step."

"Our next step?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"I told you I would be with you night and day."

"That doesn't mean you have to be in the bathroom while I bathe!" she exclaimed.

"When you eat, when you bathe, when you sleep - you are either by my side or you are in my sight."

"But…"

Her shoulders sagged again as she stared at his implacable face.

"Fine," she muttered, then rose and led the way into her bedroom and across it to the bathing room, hesitating at the doorway. "Look, you can see there isn't any other way into the room. I'm sure it would be fine if you waited outside."

"There is a window."

He gestured at the large, arched window behind the gently steaming bathing pool and she gave him a skeptical look.

"We're hundreds of feet in the air - who could come through there?"

"It is a possibility for a determined intruder." He shrugged. "As is the ventilation system and possibly the plumbing conduits."

"You have got to be kidding me." She marched into the room, stopping again when he followed. "No."

"Yes. You may undress and prepare for your bath while I stand with my back to you, but I will remain in the room."

"Oh my God!"

She stomped her foot in a surprisingly adorable display of frustration, and he hid a smile as he turned his back and waited for her to comply. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, she sighed and he heard rustling behind him as she apparently gave up the fight.

Although he kept his back turned, he focused on every sound, imagining her removing her dress and uncovering her slender body. Would her pale skin flush as she stepped into the hot water? For a male who prided himself on his discipline, the urge to turn around and watch her bathe was surprisingly powerful but he maintained his position.

Water splashed softly as she lowered herself into the tub, and her scent filled the room. Not the heavy floral scent he would have associated with a pampered, privileged female but a fresh clean scent that he found unexpectedly appealing. Fuck. Everything about her was appealing. And irrelevant, he reminded himself. He had a mission to complete.

That didn't stop awareness from prickling his skin as he continued to wait with his back to her, and when he heard her climb out of the tub, he could all too clearly envision the water streaming down her naked body. That unfamiliar sensation washed over him again as he listened to her movements. He clamped down ruthlessly on the impulse to turn around, waiting instead for her to tell him she was ready.

"I'm dressed," she said, her voice a little unsteady, and he turned.

As he'd expected, her pale skin was flushed from the heat of the bath. The white cotton of her nightgown clung slightly to her damp body. Although it too covered most of her body, it was much thinner and more revealing than her previous dress. He could see the slight curve of her waist and the stiff peaks of her nipples beneath the thin fabric. His fingers actually twitched with the urge to touch those tempting little buds.

Ignoring her disconcerted expression as well as his own impulses, he opened the bathroom door and motioned to the bed.

"Sleep."

"W-where are you going to sleep? And when, for that matter?"

He shrugged.

"I will get some rest while you sleep. The war taught me to be on guard even then." He slept so lightly that even the faintest sound would rouse him from his slumber. He couldn't remember the last time he'd passed an uninterrupted night. "As for where…"

He let the words linger as he glanced back at the bed and her breathing sped up, amused at her discomfort. But then he noticed that her nipples had stiffened even more and his amusement vanished as he fought a sudden urge to cup her small breasts and tease the erect tips. What the fuck is wrong with me? His inability to become aroused didn't prevent him from noticing an attractive female, but he rarely envisioned touching one.

"The chair by the window will suffice. It looks… comfortable," he added, managing to sound ironic. The plush chair was undoubtedly comfortable - for a human - but his body was far too big for it.

"You would have more room on the sofa in the living area."

She gave him a hopeful look, but he shook his head.

"At my side or in my sight," he reminded her. "Now sleep."

She sighed, but went over to the bed and slipped beneath the covers, looking ridiculously small in the huge canopied bed. The bed didn't suit her, but then neither did the rest of the room. The furniture was too ornate and the expensive embroidered fabric that covered everything from the bed curtains to the upholstery was luxurious but uncomfortably stiff to the touch.

He suspected that the only actual sign of her personality was the small collection of books on the shelves next to the fireplace. He was tempted to explore them, but she had pulled the sheets up high enough so that only her eyes were visible, peeping uncertainly over the sheets. Instead he ordered the lights off as he walked over to the chair he'd chosen. His night vision was excellent but unnecessary since the glow of city lights prevented the room from being in complete darkness.

"Do you want the curtains closed?"

"No. I like to be able to see the sky."

Her voice was soft and slightly breathless.

"Then go to sleep."

He sat down in the uncomfortable chair, and put his legs up on a small ottoman. It only minimally improved the situation but it was still a hundred times better than most of his nights during the war. He stretched and rolled his shoulders a couple of times, watching surreptitiously as her eyes widened at the movement. Her appreciative look was a little too satisfying and he forced himself to ignore it as he settled back in the chair.

Closing his eyes, he began the breathing exercises that would enable him to relax while still maintaining awareness. Before long he heard her breathing even out, but it was a long time before he fell asleep.