Shield's Lady

uncomfortably of how she had felt when Etion Rakken had made his businesslike marriage proposal. She had found herself thinking it would have been nice to have had a declaration of love and passion thrown in on the side. That had been a very western thought, too. No easterner in his right mind would have worried about the role of love and passion in a marriage that had everything else going for it.
    Well, she had gotten a clear demonstration of passion, at least, from the man who had married her. Whatever else had happened on her wedding night, there had certainly been an element of passion involved. Gryph had wanted her with an intensity that had burned its way right into her soul. She had been vibrating with the aftershocks ever since she had left his bed.
    This morning he had saved her life.
    Tonight he had not tried to press his claim on her, even though he genuinely believed he was married to her.
    Gryph Chassyn believed a lot of strange things, Sariana reflected. But, so did the other inhabitants of the western provinces. Their First Generation legends had taken some weird twists and turns. Which was understandable when one considered that The Serendipity had carried a whole class of storytellers and dramatists.
    Sariana found her traveling cloak and slipped it around her shoulders. As long as she kept the front closed no one would know she was wearing only her sleeping chemise underneath. She stepped into her slippers.
    At the cabin door she stopped, questioning her own actions. Then she opened the door and stepped into the corridor. There were things that had to be settled tonight. She had been floundering in a morass of emotions for far too long. The rule to follow when one found oneself in an untenable situation was to negotiate.
    The scarlet-toe, nestled for the night on a glove Sariana had left on a nearby table, hissed questioningly. “Go back to sleep,” Sariana told it. “I’ll be back soon. I am finally thinking clearly again.”

    Gryph sensed her presence a second or two before he caught the sweep of her cloak out of the corner of his eye. He had been leaning against the rail, nursing a mug of ale and hoping the sea breeze would calm his restless, hungry senses to a point where he could sleep. Whatever progress he might have been making was undone completely, when he realized Sariana had come looking for him.
    He held the mug in both hands, his forearms resting on the railing, and turned his head to look at her. In the moonlight she looked very beautiful and infinitely compelling. The hood of the cloak framed her face, giving her a hint of feminine mystery. In the shadows he could see the mixture of caution and determination in her huge eyes. A few tantalizing tendrils of her unbound hair had escaped the confines of the hood. The long folds of the garment drifted around her slender figure, revealing even while concealing.
    This was his wife, he told himself as he studied her in the moonlight. This was his Shieldmate, whether she knew it yet or not. The realization still had the power to daze him. He wanted to reach out and take hold of her to ensure himself that she was real and solid. He restrained himself with difficulty.
    She had sought him out of her own accord tonight. He would take that as a hopeful indication that she was beginning to accept the situation. He did not know all that much about women, but he decided this was probably not the moment to push her. He had been telling himself that bit of wisdom since dinner, though his body had raged against the decision. She deserved some time to herself, Gryph had determined. By the Lightstorm, she had been through a lot today. His stomach still twisted into a cold knot whenever he thought of her on the docks.
    “The luck of the evening to you, Sariana,” he said formally. He was afraid he’d send her running back to the cabin if he tried any other greeting. A kiss, for example. She’d probably turn and flee if he tried to kiss her. His hands tightened around the mug.
    “And to you, Shield.” She inclined her head regally.
    Gryph’s mouth twisted. She hadn’t called him husband. She hadn’t even called him by his name. She had addressed him by his social designation which was about as formal as a woman could get. “Can’t you sleep?”
    “No.”
    He nodded. “That’s understandable, considering what you went through this morning.”
    “My life here has been one surprise after another.”
    He heard the dry note in her voice as