Everlasting

SEVEN

KIRA SHOOK HER head as she looked in the mirror Marna was holding before her. “Are you sure this isn't going a bit too far? I saw an old Maria Montez movie on the late-late show on television when I was in college, and even she didn't look this theatrical. Seven petticoats, Marna?”

“Seven is lucky.” A gentle smile softened Marna's face. “You look beautiful.”

Kira turned around, trying to see a back view of the outfit. There was no denying it was outrageously flattering. The full circle skirt, a pale-pink and fawn-beige print, swung gaily as she turned. It was cinched by a wide, dark brown suede belt which laced and tied in the front, reminiscent of those worn by seventeenth-century peasant women. The lace-trimmed white blouse was completely off the shoulder and made her breasts appear even more ripe and womanly. Luckily, her own calf-high brown suede boots looked good with the ensemble.

She turned back to Marna with an impish grin. “I've changed my mind. It's much more like the outfit Esmerelda wore in The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Are you sure you haven't hidden Quasimodo in one of the wagons?”

“Zack would not be pleased with that particular comparison,” Marna said dryly. “And I wouldn't bring it up if I were you. Paulo says Zack's humor hasn't been of the best today.” Her gaze narrowed curiously on Kira's face. “What did you say to him this morning?”

“Just a little misunderstanding. I'll straighten it out when I see him.”

“That would be wise. I don't think many people would be comfortable having Zack ‘misunderstand’ them. You will be in a very vulnerable position after tonight.”

She was in a very vulnerable position right now, Kira realized. What Zack thought and did and felt had already assumed monumental proportions in her life. There were moments when it frightened her. The only time she'd ever known that Zack felt a similar dependence was when he was making love to her this morning, and a sexual dependence would never be enough for her now. She mustn't borrow trouble, though, she reminded herself, because this was only the beginning. There would be time to encourage whatever he felt for her to blossom and grow into something close to the love she was feeling for him. Love. It still felt strange and new and a little intimidating. “Hadn't you better tell me what to expect during the ceremony? Will there be violins and dancing and singing?”

Marna shook her head. “This is the mondava. It is a very private thing. There will be just Paulo and I at the saldana, and then we'll leave and there will be just the two of you.” Marna lowered the mirror and bent to lean it against the wheel of the wagon. “It is time. Are you ready?”

Kira drew a deep, shaky breath. She hadn't expected to be this nervous. “Yes.”

The next hour was strangely hazy and remote, as if viewed in the center of a dark crystal that misted and cleared and misted again. The silent walk through the autumn woods, then her first sight of the wagon in the little glade of pines. The wagon was painted a brilliant scarlet and a camp-fire crackled before it, sending sparks up into the darkness.

Zack was standing in front of the wagon with an expression on his face that was more grim than serious. He was dressed in the same gray cords he had worn last night, but evidently Paulo had found him another shirt and a pair of knee-length black boots. The shirt was deep burgundy, with long full sleeves, and the rich color set off his darkness like a flame. He had left the first few buttons undone and she could see the heavy muscles that corded his chest and the beginning of the dark wedge of hair that roughened it. The cool breeze stirred the hair on his forehead, giving him the reckless and romantic appeal of Byron. Lord, he was stunning. She found herself staring up at him with the dreamy-eyed lovesickness of a teenager.

He frowned. “Why the devil are you looking at me like that? Have I grown two heads or something?”

She smiled bemusedly. “You're definitely not Quasimodo.”

“What?”

Marna stepped forward. “It is nothing. Kira is a bit fey tonight. Where is Paulo?”

“Here.” Paulo stepped from the shadows behind the wagon. “We begin?”

Marna nodded. “We begin.”

The crystal misted again as she and Zack knelt on the white sheepskin pallet before the fire. How beautiful to see things with perfect clarity and yet enhanced by this diamanté veil.

The ceremony was not long. Rich red wine was sipped from a single goblet. Marna murmured a Tamrovian blessing as she stood before them. The halves of an ancient coin that had been severed glittered in the firelight on two separate golden chains. The first talisman was slipped over Zack's head and the second around her own neck. Then Marna stepped back and there was silence for a long moment.

Kira looked up at her inquiringly. Was it over?

Marna shook her head. “Face each other and put your left hands palm to palm.”

Her hand felt small and helpless as it pressed against his large palm. Fair against his darkness. Woman against man. Against? No. Merging, blending, bonding. Her startled eyes lifted to Zack's.

“Yes, I felt it too. Mondava.” His fingers slowly threaded through her own. “Mine.”

“Mine,” she repeated softly. Together. The current flowing between them was as deep and timeless as it had always been. How many times, how many moments, how many mondavas? It didn't matter. There was only now, only Zack looking down at her.

She was barely aware that Marna was backing away from the fire, leaving them alone in the circle of intimacy she had helped to weave about them. “Paulo,” Marna prompted. Like a giant shadow, Paulo crossed to stand beside her. Kira could feel Marna's gaze on them. Love, loneliness, sadness, resignation. The emotions flowed from her in a sweeping tide that Kira felt with a poignant sensitivity she had never known before.

“Joy,” Marna whispered.

The next moment Marna and Paulo were gone. The only sign of their passing was the crisp crunch of the leaves beneath their feet as they disappeared into the woods on their way back to the encampment.

Kira couldn't seem to move her gaze away from Zack's. “What are we supposed to do now?” The words were a breathless whisper.

“I think we're on our own.” He smiled gently. “I know what I want to do.”

“What?”

“I want to lie here beside the fire and hold you in my arms.”

“That sounds like a very good idea.” Each nerve and muscle in her body seemed to melt toward him. But it didn't seem all that unusual when every particle of her being was flowing into him anyway. His arms were around her and he was turning her spoon-fashion so that her head was pillowed on his arm. He hadn't released her hand and she could see their fingers still entwined in the flickering light of the fire.

His voice was low and thoughtful. “I've been in a fever for you since I left you this morning. I thought I'd be wanting you too much ever to hold you like this without making love to you.”

Her eyes were fixed dreamily on the orange-gold flames of the fire. “You are making love to me.”

He was silent a moment and then he kissed the tip of her ear. “Yes, I am. How perceptive of you to notice.” He settled down beside her in a silence filled with companionship, beauty, and a closeness that was, at this moment, even stronger than desire. How magical to know there would still be moments like this when passion had faded.

“You're not angry with me any longer.”

“I wasn't angry, I was…” His words trailed off. “It doesn't matter now, does it?”

No, it didn't matter now. She rubbed her cheek against the hard muscles of his arm. Contentment was a clear golden bell ringing through her-the scent of burning logs, the crisp autumn leaves, and Zack. She was perfectly relaxed but wide-awake. She had no desire to go to sleep and miss even an instant of this special time. She would lie here and enjoy the heat of the crackling fire and the warmth and security that was Zack.

“Why did you come to Tamrovia?” she asked softly. “Not this time. When you were a boy, I mean.” The fire had burned low, but neither of them had wanted to stir to add another log and stoke the flames.

“I needed to get away. My grandfather had died the winter before and I had to come to terms with losing him.” His lips twisted. “And I was a half-breed in a time when many southwesterners thought Indians were drunks or bums. I'd had a few experiences that year that had left me raw, and I needed to find myself. Or at least my sense of self-worth and a goal in life. I had backpacked around Italy and Switzerland for a few weeks and then crossed into Tamrovia.” His gaze was fixed on the fire, but he wasn't really seeing it. “I ran into Paulo in a village in the hills and we struck up a friendship. He took me back to the encampment with him.”

“And you traveled the rest of the summer with them,” she finished for him. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” His lips moved against her ear in a gossamer-light caress. “In some ways it was like being with my grandfather again. He hated to stay in one place, too, and was never happier than when he was wandering in the hills.”

“Was he a hunter like you and Paulo?”

“No, he believed in being one with nature. He was a very gentle man.” There was a long silence. “I loved him very much. I couldn't be like him. There was too much violence, too much hunger in me. Yet, when I was a child, I wanted to grow up to have that gentleness and serenity more than anything in the world. He was a very happy man.”

And Zack hadn't been happy. The revelation was sudden, poignant for her. Understated though Zack's admission had been, it was still painfully clear what mental and emotional hardships the little boy from two worlds had undergone. Her hand unconsciously tightened on his in silent support. “I wish I could have met your grandfather.”

“He would have liked you.” His eyes were suddenly twinkling. “He would have approved of your shooting pictures instead of game, even if Paulo doesn't.”

“I wish I had my camera now,” she said wistfully. “I could take pictures of Marna and her people here at the encampment. It would mean a good deal to her once she's left Tamrovia.”

“Yes, I imagine it would. I hadn't thought of that.” His arm slid around her waist. “And to you too. Did you spend much of your childhood here at the Gypsy camp?”

She shook her head. “I would have loved to have spent all of it here, but my parents and Stefan disapproved. Marna and I could escape for a full day only now and then. I loved every minute of those days. I can understand how Marna would be homesick for the life here. Do you think it would be possible for us to spend just one more day? Are they searching for us in this area?”

“I don't think so,” he said slowly. “It's a little puzzling. I've been in touch with my men in Belajo and they haven't seen even a hint of pursuit. It's as if the escape had never happened. For that matter, they can't seem to get any information at all out of their informants in the palace. There appears to be a complete communication blackout.”

“That's very strange, isn't it?”

He nodded. “I've told them to find out more and let me know as soon as possible.”

“But you think it's safe to spend one more day here?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to delay our departure until tomorrow evening instead of leaving at dawn.”

“Wonderful! That will make Marna much happier.”

“It will make me much happier too. I intend to be very occupied at dawn.” His hand moved up to cup her breast, and she felt a ripple of sensation that shredded the fabric of tranquility she had been feeling. “In fact, I expect to be very occupied all night.” His long, strong fingers probed delicately at the cotton of the blouse, circling the breast lazily. “You're not wearing anything underneath this, are you?”

“It didn't seem”-she lost words as well as breath as his thumb and forefinger plucked gently at her nipple-“appropriate.”

“Oh, it wouldn't have been.” His low chuckle was amused. “Nor would it have been at all efficient. You have wonderful instincts, Kira.” His hand left her breast and went to her bare shoulder, rubbing the soft, silky skin lightly with the tips of his fingers. “And the loveliest shoulders I've ever seen. I have a deep admiration for both.” He slid the blouse very slowly down her arm. The material tightened over her breasts and began to reveal, inch by inch, the deep cleavage. His other hand disentangled from her own and wandered to the other shoulder. He began sliding that side of the blouse down as well. She watched the material slip down with infinite slowness and knew her breasts were swelling, peaking, as if trying to burst free of the confining cloth. Excitement tautened the muscles of her stomach. Her chest was beginning to constrict and she had to breathe deeply to force oxygen into her lungs. Then her breasts broke free of the confinement of the blouse and she felt the sudden flare of sensation as her naked breasts were exposed to the heat of the fire. Her nipples were pointed and distended with arousal as her breasts jutted proudly out of the nest of cotton and lace supporting and cupping them.

Zack didn't move, but she could feel his gaze on her. She waited breathlessly. The muscles of his arm beneath her cheek were no longer relaxed, but coiled and tense. She could feel the erotic pounding of his heart against her naked back. Then his hand moved slowly up and hovered over her breast.

His fingers were long and tanned. Against the glow of the firelight they seemed to have a fiery transparency that was almost magical. Then all thought of magic vanished as his hand closed on her breast. She gasped as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. His hand was heavy and warm and very, very real as it squeezed and lifted. He played with her with a pagan, sensuous enjoyment. “Zack.”

“I know,” he murmured. His lips were brushing against her cheek. “I'm going crazy, too, but let's try to ease into it, love. I don't want to be as rough with you as I was this morning.”

He hadn't been rough. He had been wonderful. The very violence of his passion had made it all the more intense and beautiful. She had to tell him that. “It wasn't-” She broke off as he suddenly moved away from her.

He sat up, unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers. “I love the way you look tonight. I like your hair tousled and wild about your shoulders.” He pulled the shirt out of his trousers and slipped it off. His shoulders gleamed bronze in the firelight as he tossed the shirt away. “Sit up, Kira.” He didn't wait for her to comply but pulled her gently to a sitting position. He took the bottom of her blouse and pulled it over her head and threw it on top of his shirt. Then he was tugging at her right boot. “I'm getting very proprietary about these boots,” he said with a faint smile. He took the other boot off her and threw it toward the other clothing. Then he paused to gaze at her with eyes that were smoky with hunger. She could feel the tension zapping between them in jagged lines of power. “I'm beginning to feel very proprietary about you too.” He moved forward and his unsteady hands untied the lace waist of her belt. When he had finished loosening the laces he hesitated, looking down at them. Then he suddenly pulled the laces so tight that her waist was cinched to wasp slimness and her naked breasts jutted forward in saucy invitation.

She gasped and her gaze flew to his. “What are you doing?”

“Fulfilling a fantasy. Hell, I didn't even know it was a fantasy until I saw you in this outfit.” He kept the laces taut as he slowly lowered his head. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“No.” His tongue was stroking her breast gently and she had trouble getting the word out. No pain, only the swollen tautness, the exquisite sensitivity of her nipples, his warm teasing tongue. The only pain was the aching desire for completion. “What fantasy?”

He released the laces, unfastened the belt, and slipped it from her waist. His eyes were darkly intent. “I don't know. It has something to do with what I felt when you walked forward into the firelight in that seventeenth-century garb.” He shrugged. “Déjà vu. Nostalgia. Something.” He unfastened his belt and pulled off his boots. “It's a night for magic and fantasy, Kira. Do you have any fantasies you want to have fulfilled?” His gaze was holding her own. “Tell me. I want to show you I can be something besides the barbarian I was this morning.”

She could scarcely think, much less remember any fantasy she might have had. “I think you're doing very well on your own.”

His smile was a warm flash in his dark face. “Good. Then we'll continue as we started. I'll be right back, love.”

He stood and stripped quickly, then knelt beside her again. His palms framed her face and he kissed her tenderly. “Come here, Kira.” His legs were spread wide and suddenly her skirt and petticoats were frothing over him. His hand was beneath them. Searching. Finding. She gasped as his fingers gently started a rhythm that caused her to clutch wildly at his shoulders. She felt the prickly abrasion of the dusting of hair on his thighs as he arranged her legs around his hips. Then his hands were on her bottom, bringing her slowly forward.

She bit her lip to stifle a little moan as he began to fill the aching emptiness at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“It's like a treasure hunt, with all these petticoats hiding you from me.” He laughed huskily. “But I think I've found the way. Dear heaven, but it's a slow way.”

She thought so too. “Hurry.” Her nails unconsciously dug into the flesh of his shoulders. “This is driving me… crazy.”

He flexed and felt a deep shudder go through her.

“Just a little more. I'm going crazy, too, but I want-” He broke off. “There. Now put your arms around me.” His arms enfolded her and he buried his lips in her hair. Closeness. Fullness. Fire.

Then he was tumbling her over backward and flipping up the skirt and lace petticoats. His hand ran over her possessively. His face above her was heavy with sensuality. “Now this is the time when we hurry, Kira,” he said softly. “Like this, love.”

He exploded into wildness, the strokes deep and heavy with frantic urgency. She wanted to help him, but the sensations were so intense that she found she could only arch mindlessly up to him, her hands fluttering on his shoulders. Her teeth clenched as wave after wave of feeling surged over her, in her, around her. Then his lips were hard on her own as the final tidal deluge swept them away.

She couldn't move. She felt as if she might never move again. Zack's eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling with the force of his labored breathing. There was a touch of desperation in his low laugh. “You know, another fantasy like that one might kill me. I've never felt anything so intense before.” He opened his eyes and she was surprised to see how lazily sensual they were. “And do you know something else? Give me a minute or two and I'll be ready to do it again. You have a very wild effect on me, Your Highness.”

“It will take me a little longer than that to recover,” she murmured. “I feel as if I've just been through an earthquake.”

There was a faintly regretful look in his eyes. “Pity.” He slowly shifted off her. One hand moved to pet her affectionately. “I know I'm being a selfish bastard, but I can't seem to get enough of you.” He unfastened her skirt, then removed both it and the petticoats. “You tell me when you're ready.” He smiled crookedly. “I assure you I'm at your disposal at any time.” He lay down on the sheepskin pallet and pulled her into his arms, rolling her over so they were facing each other. Then he sighed contentedly. “Though this is nice too.”

“Yes.” She nestled closer. “I think nice is a definite understatement.” Her eyes were drooping drowsily and she smothered a yawn against his shoulder.

She was conscious of his hand running lazily down her arm to her wrist. “Take a nap, love. We have all night.”

She nodded. She would sleep presently, but right now she wanted to lie here and enjoy this wonderful closeness. Then his fingers were threading once more through hers in the intimate embrace that now seemed peculiarly their own. She smiled contentedly as her heavy lids closed. The last memory of which she was conscious was the sight of their hands joined in companionship and…

It was early afternoon when she heard the whir of the helicopter. At first the sound was so faint it might have been the hum of a bee and she didn't bother to open her eyes. She was drowsy and content sitting here against the trunk of the beech tree, with the sun on her face and Zack's head in her lap, and it was impossible to believe anything could disturb the bucolic enchantment of the moment.

Then the chugging whir became louder and her eyes flew open. “Zack!” There was an edge of panic in her voice. “Zack, I hear something.”

“Um-m,” he murmured, not opening his eyes. “So do I.”

“It's a helicopter.” She pushed his head from her lap and jumped to her feet in a flurry of petticoats. “I'm sure it's a helicopter.” She ran to the edge of the hill, her gaze searching the sky. “Zack, for God's sake, just don't lie there. They've found us!”

“I'm lying here because you nearly knocked me out when my head fell off your lap,” he said dryly as he sat up.

“Oh, dear, I'm sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder with a stricken expression. “But they're here, Zack.”

A cinnamon-colored helicopter had appeared on the horizon. It was moving purposefully in their direction.

Zack rose to his feet and strolled over to stand beside her. “So I see. But the question is, Who are they?” He suddenly grinned down at her. “Don't worry. It's not Stefan's storm troopers. I've been expecting this particular helicopter. I radioed Perry Bentley last night after you went to sleep and told him to fly in from Switzerland today.”

“Perry Bentley?”

“My assistant. You probably saw him that night outside the theater in Tucson.” He turned and started down the hill. “Put your boots on and let's go down and meet him as he lands.”

She stared after him. “How did you know I was outside the theater that night?” But he was halfway down the hill and could no longer hear her. She hurriedly thrust her bare feet into the boots and tucked the tail of her blouse into her skirt. Then she was hurrying after him.

She caught up as he reached the open field. Zack's own helicopter was stashed on the perimeter, beneath the cover of overhanging trees. She watched as the aircraft landed in the exact center of the field. “How did you know I was outside-”

His hand closed on her arm as he stepped forward eagerly. “Come on. I want you to see your present.” He was pulling her toward the helicopter, his expression endearingly boyish.

“My present?” she echoed bewilderedly.

The door of the helicopter was opening and the plump man who had run interference for Zack at the theater the first night she'd seen him jumped to the ground. He was dressed in casual jeans and a yellow T-shirt, and was carrying a small cardboard box.

“Perry Bentley. Kira Rubinoff.” Zack introduced them absently as he took the box and handed it to Kira. “Your present.”

“How do you do,” Kira murmured as she opened the box. A camera. A state-of-the-art Nikon-with every conceivable lens and attachment. Her eyes lifted to Zack's. “You had him fly from Switzerland to bring me a camera?”

“You wanted it,” he said simply. “You said it was important to you and Marna.” His brow suddenly furrowed in a frown. “Don't you like it?”

She felt tears sting her eyes. What an extravagant and touching gesture! She felt a surge of feeling so intense it took her breath away. “I love it,” she finally whispered huskily. Her index finger caressed the camera. “It's the most wonderful present I've ever received. Thank you, Zack.”

“It's far more advanced than the first one he bought you,” Bentley said cheerfully. “They've made some amazing strides in technology in the last five years. There are some instructions in the box that will show you how to use the new-” He broke off with a frown as he caught her stunned expression. “Is something wrong?”

“That's what I'm wondering,” she said slowly. “But, yes, I'm beginning to think there may be something very wrong.” She turned to Zack. “You bought me the camera Marna gave me for my eighteenth birthday?”

Zack stiffened warily. “I was going to tell you about that. Somehow I just didn't get around to it.” His voice lowered. “I found myself otherwise distracted.”

Her heart jerked, and for a moment the shock and bewilderment ebbed as she remembered the “distraction.” Then she pulled her attention back to the subject at hand. She had an uneasy feeling this was even more important than it appeared on the surface.

She swiftly lifted her head to meet Bentley's eyes. “Zack was aware that I was outside the theater in Tucson, even though I was careful to keep in the background. Now how do you suppose he knew, Mr. Bentley?”

Bentley cast an uncomfortable glance at Zack. Then, when his employer slowly nodded permission, he said, “The security man who was tailing you called me on the car phone.”

“Tailing me? What security man?”

“The one who has been assigned to protect you for the last seven years,” Bentley said. He was definitely uneasy now and his words came out choppily “Jansen is one of Mr. Damon's best security men.”

Kira felt as if she were lost in a maze of mirrors where nothing appeared as it really was. “Seven years?”

“Actually, it was more like ten,” Zack said quietly. “I became very dissatisfied with Stefan's slipshod security and decided to protect you myself.” He motioned with a jerk of his thumb. “The encampment is through that grove of poplars, Perry. Please go wait for us there.”

“Right,” Bentley said in evident relief before he scurried toward the stand of trees.

“I think you owe me an explanation,” Kira said carefully.

He nodded. “Yes, I think I do too. I first heard about you the summer I was nineteen. Marna had come to the camp to nurse her mother and I was always off in the hills with Paulo so I didn't see much of her at first. Then I began to catch her staring at me.” He smiled crookedly. “Rather like a housewife considering the merits of a piece of meat for a stew. One day she took me aside and told me about the mondava. She also told me about a child called Kira, who was the other half of me. She said that one day, after the child had become a woman, she would send her to me.” He paused. “I didn't believe a word of it. I was accustomed to a certain amount of mysticism, but mysticism is difficult to accept when applied to one's own self. The whole thing sounded like a soap opera or one of those old bodice-ripper novels. A royal princess couldn't be the other half of a half-breed like Zack Damon. Not in real life. So I went back to Arizona and began to dismiss it from my mind.” He slowly shook his head. “I didn't take Marna's determination into account. The first letter came a month later.”

“Letter?”

“She wrote me every month or so. I was moving around a great deal then and I don't know how she managed to keep track of me, but somehow she did.” His eyes met hers. “They were always about you. What you'd said and what you'd done. Occasionally she'd send me a snapshot or a hair ribbon or a page of your homework on which you'd gotten a particularly good grade. I gradually got to know you. I looked forward to those letters as if you were my child. Then, as you grew older, that feeling began to change. You were still mine, but not enough mine. I began to think about the mondava and to believe in it.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I was growing very impatient by the time Marna sent you to me in Tucson. I don't think I could have waited much longer before I came to you. Perhaps Marna knew that.”

“She probably did.” Kira ran her fingers distractedly through her hair. “And she certainly wouldn't have wanted her precious mondava to be spoiled. There's more, isn't there? Marna's rescue was a little too smooth to have been effected on the spur of the moment. You already knew she was being held prisoner when I came to you.”

Zack nodded. “The bribe had been arranged over a month ago. I had a special operative, Steve Dubliss, waiting in Switzerland. We were planning to go in after her in the next few days.”

She shook her head in bewilderment. “You and Marna seem to have planned everything, down to the last detail.” She whirled away from him. “I've just thought of something. I don't believe you've told me the whole story. I have to talk to Marna.”

He fell into step with her as she hurried toward the encampment. “It's not as if we were trying to hurt you,” he said gently. “Why are you so upset, Kira?”

“I can't talk about it now,” she said jerkily. “I have to talk to Marna. I have to know everything.”

He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He was silent the rest of the way.

Marna was standing on the edge of the little crowd surrounding Perry Bentley, but she broke away as she caught sight of Kira and Zack. She came toward them with a wide smile on her face. “A camera, Kira. How you will love-” She broke off as she caught sight of Kira's tense expression. “What is wrong?”

“She knows everything, Marna,” Zack said with a rueful shrug.

“Not quite everything,” Kira snapped. “But I'm beginning to suspect quite a lot.” She drew a deep breath. “Marna, when we crossed the border back into Tamrovia from Sedikhan and arrived at the Gypsy camp, how did Stefan's soldiers know we'd show up there?”

Marna gazed at her impassively for a long moment. “I told Paulo to send an anonymous message to Stefan telling him when we'd arrive.”

Zack let his breath out in a low whistle. “I didn't know that. Do you suppose Machiavelli had any Gypsy blood?”

Marna shrugged. “If he had been Gypsy, he would have had the sense not to become involved in all those intrigues and enjoyed his life instead. Intrigue should be used only infrequently to accomplish one's ends.”

“You deceived me,” Kira said in disbelief. “I was so frightened and worried about you, and it was you who deliberately arranged for your own capture. Why, Marna, why?”

“It was time for the mondava,” Marna said simply. “I had to find a way to send you to Zack and set it into motion.”

“She only did it for your happiness, Kira,” Zack said quietly.

“I know that.” Kira's voice was charged with tension. “She'd walk through fire to make sure I was happy.”

Marna nodded. “It was for the best.”

“You're both being so marvelously soothing and unconcerned about it all.” Kira's sapphire eyes were suddenly blazing in her pale face. “Don't you realize what you've done? You've manipulated me! All my life I've been just a chess piece for Stefan and my parents to move around the chessboard. I accepted that.” Her smile was bittersweet. “Perhaps not tamely, but I could accept it because they didn't really care about me. But you love me, Marna, and yet you've manipulated me too.” She turned to Zack. “And didn't it ever occur to you to come to me in all those years and not wait for Marna to pull the strings? You know, I don't think it did. I was just an empty-headed doll to you. Well, I'm not a chess piece or a puppet or a doll. I'm none of those things, and I'm not a child, either.”

Zack took an impulsive step toward her. “Kira-”

“No.” She backed away from him. “Don't touch me. I can't think when you touch me. And it's time I stopped reacting and started thinking.”

“You are hurting.” There was a flicker of sadness in Marna's face. “I never meant for you to experience pain.”

“Perhaps it's time I did experience pain,” Kira said huskily. “Whenever I was with you, Marna, I felt I had stepped out of the glass bubble. But I hadn't, not really. A strong, overprotective love can be just as effective in keeping someone from the real world as protocol and a ring of guards.” She thrust the box with the camera in it at Marna. “Will you keep this for me? I have some thinking to do and I want to go back up on the hill to do it.”

“I'd like to come with you,” Zack said.

She shook her head. “I want to be alone.” She smiled shakily. “You distract me too. I'll try not to be long.” She started away and then turned back to them. “It's not that I don't know how good you've both been to me. It's just that I feel as I did the other night when Paulo ruffled my hair and called me a child. I can't let that…” She made a helpless little movement with one hand and turned away again. “I'll be back soon.”

It was dusk when Kira came down from the hill. She had watched the piercing blue of the sky turn to the blazing scarlet of sunset and then fade to the gentle violet of twilight. She had felt the warmth of the Indian summer afternoon cool to autumn evening chill, and still she had sat under the beech tree lost in thought.

Zack and Marna were alone at the saldana when she walked into camp. The evening camp-fire had been lit and the pungent smell of coffee drifted to her.

Marna glanced up from her cup. “You haven't had anything to eat since lunch. I've made a stew.”

“I'm not hungry. I'll take some coffee, though,” Kira said as she strolled over to the fire and plopped down on the sheepskin pallet beside Zack. She crossed her legs tailor-fashion and took the tin cup Marna handed her. Marna returned to her stool on the other side of the fire and picked up her own cup again.

Kira felt their concern as she took a sip of the strong, hot coffee and looked up with a half-comical grimace. “I feel like Moses coming down from the mountain with the ten commandments. I didn't mean to be that pretentious when I stalked off. I haven't made any philosophical discoveries that will shake the world.” She paused. “Except perhaps my own.”

“And ours,” Zack said quietly. “Everything you do and say and think are very important to us. Did it help, Kira?”

“Yes, it did help.” She cradled her cup in her hands as she gazed into the fire. “For one thing, I decided I had no right to be upset with either one of you. If you manipulated me, it was because I let myself be manipulated. I've made a habit of acting impulsively. I relied on you, Marna, to do my thinking.” She met Marna's gaze across the camp-fire. “No mature adult would let herself be sent to a stranger with instructions ‘to do whatever was necessary.’ I was so accustomed to relying on you and believing you were always right that I merely followed your instructions without questioning them.” She held up her hand as Marna would have interrupted. “I don't say that I wouldn't have done it if I'd stopped to consider. There's a good chance I would have acted in exactly the way I did. But I would have known it was my choice, the choice of an independent individual.” She paused as if searching for words. “You see, I've always played at being independent with my little defiances, but I've never been willing to take that extra step into true independence.” She laughed shakily. “I was frightened, I guess. As long as I was an irresponsible child I didn't have to commit myself totally to anything or anyone. Well, I've decided I can't live that way anymore. I have to assume the responsibilities that go along with love.”

She set her cup down and spread her hands on her knees, her fingers flexing nervously. She drew a deep breath. “I love you, Marna, and I'm going to keep on loving you until the day I die. You're going to be a part of me for the rest of my life. I don't give a damn what you think the mondava is going to do to our relationship. I know myself and I know my love for you isn't going to change… except to grow stronger maybe.” She turned to Zack. “And I love you too. I've never told you before. We've all been so concerned with this mondava business that we've ignored the basics.”

Zack smiled faintly. “I'd say you couldn't get much more basic than the mondava.”

She met his eyes directly. “Yes, you could. There's always a plain old-fashioned declaration of undying devotion. Which you haven't made, by the way. I think there are several people around here besides me who have a few problems.” She made an impatient gesture with one hand. “We'll address that later. Right now, I just want you to know I love you. And no matter how you feel about me at the moment, someday I'm going to know that you love me too. You once said I had the idea my value lay only in my title, and maybe you were right. But I've been thinking about it, and I'm a hell of a lot more than a title. I have intelligence and stamina and determination.”

“And a very loving heart,” Zack said softly. “Thank God.”

Her eyes met his with glowing serenity. “Oh, yes, I have that too. Any man who gets me will have a prize. I'm going to make sure you appreciate me, Zack.” She was having trouble tearing her gaze away. His dark eyes reflected so many wonderful things-pride, understanding, tenderness. She finally managed it and looked back into the flames. “However, that's all going to have to wait. I'm going to have to straighten out this mess with Stefan before I'm free to pursue you.”

Zack stiffened warily. “I don't like the sound of that.”

“I didn't think you would.” She made a face. “You're going to like even less the way I intend doing it. I'm going to fly back to the palace tonight and make Stefan give me his word that Marna will be allowed either to live with or visit her tribe without any interference on his part.”

“No!” Marna said harshly, coming erect on her stool.

“Yes,” Kira said firmly. “I'm not going to let you suffer for helping me. Stefan was wrong. I just can't cave in on something this important.”

“You tried to convince him before.” Zack's face reflected none of the resistance she had expected. His expression was merely speculative. “What makes you think you can do it now, when you couldn't do it then?”

“I pleaded. I appealed. I reasoned. Now I'm going to try something else. I'm going to set forth my terms and cram them down his throat. If I'm forced to, I'll blackmail him. I'll tell him I'll give interviews to the press revealing conditions in Tamrovia. I'll even involve Sedikhan if there's absolutely no other way. If you decide to do something, it's worth going all the way.” Her lips curved in a tiny smile. “Or so someone told me quite recently.”

“You're not going back to the palace. I fight my own battles.” Marna's eyes were flashing.

“This isn't one of your battles. It's mine,” Kira said just as firmly. “And make up your mind that I'm going to be the one to fight it.”

Zack set his cup on the ground. “All right. We go back to the palace tonight.” He ignored Marna's low cry of protest. “I'm not sure what good it will do, but we'll give it a try.”

Kira shook her head. “No, not ‘we.’ Me. I'm going back alone.”

Zack didn't reply for a moment. “I rather thought you had something of the sort in mind.”

“I wouldn't be the one fighting the battle if I had Zack Damon beside me, ready to exert economic and political muscle.” She shook her head. “I'll do this my way.”

His expression was inscrutable as he studied her face for a long moment. “Okay.” He rose abruptly to his feet. “You return by yourself. I'll go get Paulo and we'll pull the helicopter out from under the tree cover and check it out. You'd better change your clothes.” He smiled. “As beautiful as you look, that's not an outfit in which to discuss ultimatums. It's entirely too soft and feminine.”

Kira was startled that he'd given in so easily. She stood up, her eyes narrowed on him with a touch of suspicion. “No arguments?”

He shook his head. “It's your battle.” He looked toward Marna. “And your debt. I respect that. I'll meet you in the clearing in fifteen minutes.”

Marna was glowering ferociously at both of them. “I've changed my mind. You are a chitka, Zack. Tell her not to go. You are joined in the mondava. She will listen to you.”

“If she did listen, she'd be taking a step backward. I wouldn't ask her to do that.” He turned away. “Fifteen minutes.”