Heart Fortune (Celta) Page 9

  “We have a bond,” Glyssa responded stiffly. “And this is the first time I’ve seen him in years.”

  “You knew him before?” Raz asked.

  Glyssa hated revealing all this. “Yes.”

  “Hmm,” Raz muttered.

  “I went to bed late, early this morning, and we spent much of the time together or linked. I would have known if he’d left his tent, been excited by descending into the ship by himself, taking a box. I’d have felt such an . . . adventure.”

  “Would you have?” Del questioned.

  “Yes.”

  “Truly?” Del pressed.

  “Yes! I am very sensitive to him at the moment.”

  “I deduce that Jace Bayrum doesn’t know that he’s your HeartMate?” Raz asked.

  “No.”

  “Nothing wrong with a woman going after her love,” Del D’Elecampane gritted out.

  “No, indeed,” Raz said, picking up his wife’s hands and kissing her fingers, then he grinned at Glyssa. “Especially if it includes dream sex.”

  “Here,” Jace called out from the threshold.

  Glyssa jolted and turned, seeing his shadow on the canvas. Her pulse thumped hard. How much had Jace heard?

  “Come in.” Del pulled her hands from her HeartMate’s, flicked her fingers, banishing the security spellshield and the tent flap opened.

  Jace strode in without Zem, stopped and glared at Glyssa. “You! Didn’t I ask you not to interfere in my business?”

  “GrandMistrys Licorice had information she thought she should tell us.”

  “Dream sex.” Del’s lips curved.

  Raz shrugged, all casual. “Dream sex isn’t so unusual between couples who’ve had a fling.”

  Glyssa didn’t know how he’d figured out she and Jace had only had a brief affair, but she knew Raz Elecampane was trying to minimize the connection between Glyssa and Jace, helping her keep the secret that they were HeartMates.

  Raz bent a stern look on Jace. “You aren’t the only one affected by the theft.”

  “No, just the one affected most.” Jace held out a worn leather roll. “My small trim knife is missing.”

  Del took the case, opened it. One of the slips was empty. She stroked her fingers over the soft, butterscotch-colored leather. “I don’t feel any spellshields on this.”

  “It only had the minimal, easily broken,” Jace said.

  “Like your tent shield,” Raz said.

  “That’s right.”

  “I see,” Del said.

  Raz stared at them thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would be best if we decided, despite all your protestations of innocence, the statement by GrandMistrys Licorice, and your Fam’s ‘evidence,’ to keep you, Jace Bayrum, aboveground and away from the action for the moment.”

  Jace flinched.

  All the blood drained from Glyssa’s head. She’d made things worse, not better for Jace.

  Raz continued smoothly, “And though we’ll privately keep an eye out for GrandMistrys Licorice, we’ll show the utmost confidence in her and let her roam as she will.”

  A noise strangled in Glyssa’s throat. This was so bad!

  “This should help us flush out the wrongdoer or wrongdoers.” Another hard and direct look from the actor. “What is between you two is none of our business. Our business here is this project which we have funded and which we run. Our primary goal remains the same, to excavate this last starship for history and for profit.” Raz stood and Del rose with him.

  “I understand,” Jace said. Fury emanated from him, snapped down his connection with Glyssa. Sweat beaded on her neck and slithered down her spine. She didn’t look at him, he was so angry.

  Jace jerked a bow to the owners. “Until later.” He audibly inhaled, stared at them. “I did not go into the ship last night and steal a box. I am as committed to this venture as you—”

  “Not really,” Del said. “We have a fortune invested in this excavation.”

  “I have spent two years of my life here. Not only because I’ve found you to be good employers, but because I’m interested in more than the money. I’m interested in the ship and our ancestors themselves.”

  “You think your ancestor arrived on Lugh’s Spear?” Del asked, real curiosity in her voice.

  Jace stood tall. “I don’t know. My family didn’t keep track of our line.” Another sucked-in breath. “But I know the ship is very important to the history of Celta, and I liked working on the project, being a part of this.”

  Raz’s brows lifted. “Past tense? Do you leave us on the next shuttle, then?”

  Ten

  Do you let whoever framed you win?” Glyssa put in. She was stuck here, couldn’t follow Jace if he left on the next airship, even though she wanted to.

  Jace didn’t look at her. “This conversation isn’t productive.”

  “It’s a matter of pride, isn’t it?” Raz asked softly, sympathetically, and Glyssa was struck that he used his voice, his manner, to get the results he wanted all the time. She couldn’t truly gauge how sincere he might be.

  “The accusation of theft smears a man,” Jace said. “I leave now and the problems continue on the site, and you’ll know it isn’t me.”

  “Yes, theft smears,” Del snapped. “You leave now and rumors will follow you wherever you go.”

  Raz put a hand on his HeartMate’s shoulder. “Neither of us have ever been incriminated of wrongdoing. We don’t know what Jace might be feeling.”

  “You’re an actor, you can imagine,” Jace said. “I’ll consider my options until the next airship.”

  Glyssa wet her lips, said softly, “You also must consider your BirdFam, your companion who has only known this area.”

  “Later,” Jace said, pivoted on his heel and walked out of the tent.

  As he stalked away, she contacted him mentally, Jace!

  Glyssa, I don’t want to be beholden to you, dependent on you. Taking and not giving is bad.

  We’re . . . lovers.

  We WERE lovers.

  We should support each other, depend on each other.

  You tried to manipulate me.

  The situation, not you!

  Tried to manipulate the Elecampanes, then. That is not a quality I admire. One I don’t believe belongs between even acquaintances.

  Acid coated her throat. She’d never been a victim of injustice and she’d taken her own status and her place in the world for granted. And now everything had come tumbling down.

  She didn’t know a lot about Jace’s background, but did know from occasional comments that he’d never had the advantage of a deep bond with a loving family. She’d guessed that his parents hadn’t been strong emotionally, hadn’t supported him well.

  Now Jace was charged with being a dishonorable man.

  And her bumbling had made things worse.

  The Elecampanes were staring at her. She wanted to press them for assurance that they believed her, believed in Jace like she did, and knew she couldn’t.

  Their faces were inscrutable. She couldn’t tell whether they thought she and Jace were conspiring against them or not.

  Maybe they even believed that Laev T’Hawthorn had hired her to undermine the project. Or that Camellia D’Hawthorn, whose share of the ship’s treasures would be large, wanted Glyssa to spy for her, let Camellia know when the excavation reached the Captain’s Quarters.

  Glyssa had been so naive, so sure that just being a Licorice would proclaim her honesty, that telling them she was HeartMates with Jace would show them that he was honorable, too.

  She wasn’t in Druida City anymore with the backing of her Family and friends.

  Her lips thinned and she lifted her chin. This is what she wanted, this chance to be somewhere new, do something different, even if it dented her pride and sense of self.

  She’d grow. Hurt made a person grow.

  But she didn’t have to like these particular circumstances.

  She dipped a curtsey, ready to leave without sayi
ng anything else, since her throat had dried and she wouldn’t force words. Her mind spun with all the threads of conniving that might blanket the camp.

  She knew she was innocent. She knew Jace was innocent. But now his name was smeared and the Elecampanes would do nothing to wipe that away—and the camp would probably follow their example. Whoever had set up Jace had achieved his purpose.

  Meanwhile the Elecampanes would outwardly show they were pleased with her, though they’d privately made it clear she was under suspicion.

  Terrible outcome of all she had planned.

  After one furious jab of anger at her, Jace had closed down their link to a width smaller than a fox’s whisker.

  Less than two days here, and she’d made a mess of everything. A bigger mistake than any other in her life. So much for her self-image of calm, collected efficiency. That was in a shambles, too.

  After a few breaths, she cleared her throat with croaking sounds. “I need my breakfast and to supervise Lepid’s. I’ll see you later.” Considering her schedule, she said, “I am due to meet with your daughter, Maxima, and go over Captain Hoku’s journals, the map he made of the ship.” Glyssa gave them a cool look. “I would prefer to work in my pavilion instead of here or the workshop.”

  Raz inclined his head. “Workshop doesn’t sound safe to me.”

  “Parents!” a girl’s voice called before the Elecampane’s sole child, teenaged Maxima, strolled into the tent, carrying a long-barreled blazer. Her chubby cat rode on her thin shoulder.

  Glyssa blinked. Maxima had struck her as a serious student who wouldn’t be out of place as a public librarian—that the girl carried a weapon and seemed competent with it, surprised her.

  “We took a walk to where the wounded hawkcel was found,” Maxima said, moving with her father’s grace as she put the gun away in a locked and spellshielded cabinet set in the far corner of the room. “There was little to be seen, nothing that might have caused harm to the bird.”

  “It’s been a full day since the attack,” Del said. “Things happen quickly in the wild.”

  Maxima said, “I heard that someone knocked out the guards and broke into the ship last night, stole a box. That evidence was found that Jace Bayrum did it and that Glyssa the librarian”—the girl’s gaze flicked to Glyssa—“got an immediate crush on him and came here to intervene for him.”

  Glyssa’s face flamed. She’d never been the target of salacious gossip before, either. So much for her professional standing in the camp, no doubt tarnished forever as a love-starved woman. “That is untrue,” she stated coolly. She wasn’t about to tell the girl of a sexual fling, or talk to her about HeartMates.

  “I think all of it is untrue,” Maxima said. “I don’t think Jace did it.”

  The older Elecampanes shared a glance that Glyssa couldn’t read, perhaps speaking to each other telepathically. Probably had been doing so all the time she’d been in their pavilion.

  “What we intend to do about the matter is our business,” Del said, but in a mild tone belying the reprimand.

  Maxima’s cat leapt from her shoulder, sniffed. I like Jace.

  “Because he sneaks you food,” Maxima said.

  “We will be proceeding with the excavation as we decided last night, theft or no theft,” Raz said.

  Maxima glanced at Glyssa. “We’ll be studying the journals?”

  “Yes. Scan a couple of your copies and choose the one you believe will be the most useful.” Glyssa didn’t wear a timer on her wrist to check. “I haven’t had my breakfast, and I have requested that we work in my pavilion, starting at NineBells.”

  Maxima’s eyes lit. “Oh, in a top-of-the-pyramid new pavilion! Most excellent.” Her brows wiggled. “I hear you have a little no-time filled with good food and drink.”

  “I do, but I’ll be eating in the mess tent.” She’d have to nerve herself to do that, face everyone gossiping about her. And she’d have to dress well. Her stomach rumbled. “Please, excuse me.” She left, head high, and kept a serene face and straight posture the few paces to her own tent next door, not that she saw much. For some stupid reason, her eyes had filled with tears.

  At being judged so quickly? At being thought lovestruck—had she let her feelings for Jace show so openly? At the whole humiliation of not being believed . . . She didn’t know, and though she’d like to hide in her pavilion, it wouldn’t be wise.

  The absolute best thing she could do was to eat among the others and poke fun at herself and her situation, and that idea had her writhing. The worst thing she could do was to act stuck-up and professional . . . but that was her default manner.

  This was not the library. Not a place her Family had ruled for generations.

  This was a brand-new place, and she’d have to work in a different way to relate with people as never before.

  This part of the adventure wasn’t fun . . . but it was challenging.

  * * *

  Jace found the two guys who guarded the ship the night before, looked them in the eyes and repeated that he hadn’t hurt them. Since they grunted in response, he didn’t think they believed him. Chin jutting, he strode through the camp back to his tent to cache his tools. People avoided him.

  “Hey, Jace!” called Symphyta, the Healer.

  He turned, tried to wipe the scowl from his face as he saw the curvy, wholesome blonde jogging to him, her full breasts bouncing. What was it about him that he had no inclination to bed her? That he still itched to get his hands on a thin redhead with modest attributes? A pushy redhead who couldn’t keep her mouth closed. It had been obvious she’d shared the fact that they’d connected in sexy dreams . . . had a brief affair a while back . . . with the owners of the project. Like Jace wanted everyone—anyone—to know that.

  The camp was full of women he hadn’t rolled around on a bedsponge with yet and might want to.

  “You still speaking to me?” he asked, when she reached him.

  Several people had already looked away from him, moved from out of his path as he’d walked to the new communications center.

  She stopped and jerked her chin up, her pale blue eyes irritated. “Of course I am. I happen to believe your bird. Who is in the mess tent, waiting for you. You left him with the cook.”

  “Damn.” He’d completely forgotten his new friend. A friend who’d stood by him. Turning on his heel, he strode fast toward the tent.

  Symphyta kept pace with him. “And I think that you’ll find you have plenty of friends in camp.”

  “I’m a friendly guy,” he said sourly.

  “Yes, I’m sure several people resent your popularity.”

  That had him sending her a surprised look. “You think that’s part of it? I thought it was just because I’m damn poor.” Too poor to have enough gilt on hand to pay for a return to Druida on the shuttle without a previous withdrawal from his bank. Should have kept more gilt on hand . . . though he had a tendency to gamble it away in boredom. Well, he hadn’t been bored since the redhead and her fox . . . who now sat outside the mess tent looking at him . . . had arrived.

  Symphyta snorted. “Like we aren’t all poor here. I couldn’t quite make it in a first-class HealingHall and wouldn’t settle for a city clinic. So here I am. The frontier.”

  “But you believe in what they—we—are doing.”

  She shrugged. “Enough. The Elecampanes are interesting, influential, and wealthy people. They single-handedly built a community in Verde Valley. A community that will be establishing a small HealingHall soon.”

  He stared at her. “Huh.”

  Another shrug, this one irritable. “That’s what that jerk Trago told me to get me out here.” They were at the mess tent and she stopped. “I’ve eaten.” She glanced around the camp and he followed her gaze, once more noting the neat and orderly layout of the tents—most of them as shabby as his, with the exceptions of the Elecampane’s pavilion and Glyssa Licorice’s shimmering new Flaired one.

  “And I’m needed at this camp. I like the
energy of this place. I like the verdant landscape, the forest and the grasses and the two large bodies of water in the distance.” Again she moved her shoulders. “I think this place would suit me more than the mountains where the Elecampanes live.” Symphyta patted his shoulder, gave him a compassionate look like a sister or a friend. “You’re popular and personable and lucky enough here with the treasures you’ve found to arouse jealousy and resentment. That’s what it is. Later.”

  She turned and walked away and Jace was left to face the reproachful look of the young fox alone.

  Lepid belched. I am full because MY FamWoman fed me. Zem is empty.

  Jace flinched. “I’m here to remedy that.” Ignoring the small fox, he entered the canvas tent. Good smells hovered in the air, and he realized that he’d burned off the couple of bites of the dry travel bar he’d eaten as he walked in the dawn with Zem. Jace had been grabbed and hauled to the ship before the fox had caught the first mouse for Zem.

  Guilt wrapped around him, especially since he saw Zem perched on the top rung of a high-backed wooden folding chair. The hawkcel’s gaze fixed on Jace. He’d been ignoring the fat cook who held out a plate of raw ground furrabeast bites.

  Striding up to the cook, Jace took the plate gently from the shorter man, clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks so much, Myrtus. I’m sorry Zem’s so persnickety. He doesn’t know much about people.” Jace reached out and gently stroked Zem’s head. The tension in the bird—stress Jace realized he’d felt through their bond—eased. “Zem, this is Myrtus Stopper, a very good cook. Myrtus, this is my FamBird, Zem.”

  Zem cocked his head. GREETYOU, MYRTUS, he projected loudly.

  Myrtus nodded, smiling. “Greetyou, Zem, you are a very beautiful bird.”

  Zem said, along their private bond, I cannot tell if the meat is good. It IS dead.

  Yeah, and Jace had no doubt Zem would rather crunch live mice or shrews or whatever.

  “Lepid?” he called. A sharp movement caught his glance—Glyssa sitting at the far table in the corner with a bunch of others. Even as he watched, her color came up, but she didn’t look his way.