The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit

New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer delivers an intergalactic tale of impossible love...and betrayal

The first time Mekashe, Captain of the Imperial Guard, meets blue-eyed human beauty Jasmine Donally, the two nearly come to blows. Forever devoted to the Cehn-Tahr, Mekashe is forced to sever ties with the object of his adoration. Years pass before their paths cross again, but Mekashe hasn’t forgotten what transpired—or the way she makes his heart race. But even if he can forgive the past, insurmountable barriers still threaten to keep them worlds apart. With their mutual attraction escalating quickly, they’ll have to find a way to bridge the gap—or be lost to each other forever.

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The Morcai Battalion: The Pursuit

Diana Palmer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08324-9

THE MORCAI BATTALION: THE PURSUIT

© 2018 Diana Palmer

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Praise for New York Times bestselling author DIANA PALMER

“Palmer proves that love and passion can be found even in the most dangerous situations.”

—Publishers Weekly on Untamed

“You just can’t do better than a Diana Palmer story to make your heart lighter and smile brighter.”

—Fresh Fiction on Wyoming Rugged

“Diana Palmer is a mesmerizing storyteller who captures the essence of what a romance should be.”

—Affaire de Coeur

“The popular Palmer has penned another winning novel, a perfect blend of romance and suspense.”

—Booklist on Lawman

“Diana Palmer’s characters leap off the page. She captures their emotions and scars beautifully and makes them come alive for readers.”

—RT Book Reviews on Lawless

Dear Reader,

This book is a continuation of my Morcai Battalion series, which, with the publication of this one, now comprises five novels. I never dreamed the first one would ever be reprinted, much less that I would be allowed to do more. It truly is a dream come true.

Thanks to everyone who helped me along the way, especially Tara and Mary-Theresa, and all the kind people who encouraged me. When I started the Morcai Battalion in late 1964 as nothing more than a short story for a writing course, I thought that my characters would lie dormant forever after. But there was more to be written than I knew at the time.

As they say, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. And what a long and fascinating journey it’s been! To all of you whom I met along the way, thank you for your encouragement, kindness and prayers. Writing is a lonely business. But the richest reward it brings is not money or fame; it’s friendship. Thank you for yours.

I am your biggest fan,

Diana Palmer

To my friend, editor Carly Silver at Harlequin, who has been so kind and supportive over the years. Thanks for everything!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

Dear Reader

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Extract

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS THE most boring voyage of Mekashe’s recent life. He’d been sent to represent the Cehn-Tahr government at a meeting of security experts who dealt with the safety of heads of state. Since Mekashe was captain of the Cehn-Tahr emperor Tnurat Alamantimichar’s Imperial Guard, he was the obvious person to attend.

But he was used to military routine, and this was far from that. It was an A-class cruise vessel, intended for use by the general public. Because it was more expensive than most transports, the people aboard tended to be from the highest level of their respective societies. It wasn’t commonly known, but Mekashe was a royal, a great-nephew of old Tnurat. His relationship to the emperor was why he was given the position of Imperial Guard Captain. Clan status denoted position. So when his best friend, Rhemun, followed Dtimun as the commander of the Holconcom, Mekashe was given Rhemun’s former position as captain of the guard. Clan status was the most important facet of the Cehn-Tahr’s rigid class culture.

Despite the relaxed atmosphere of the ship, which was uncomfortable, Mekashe did enjoy the observation deck. He could look out and see comets and meteors and distant stars as the huge vessel plowed its way through space. It was a novelty in his life, because the Imperial Guard was composed mostly of ground troops, elite infantry. The Holconcom, captained by his best friend, Rhemun, was more like space cavalry. The Holconcom was the most feared fighting force in the three galaxies, a specialized commando battalion on the flagship Morcai with both human and Cehn-Tahr personnel in an almost-equal mixture. Rhemun was bonded to the Morcai’s former Cularian medical specialist, Dr. Edris Mallory, and they had a son, Kipling. The boy was almost as talented with the Kahn-Bo fighting style as Mekashe, and he outclassed his father, Rhemun. He was so good that Mekashe—fleet champion in Kahn-Bo—had to work very hard to best him.

He thought about families. He had been mildly infatuated with Edris Mallory and spent much time talking to her, learning about human culture. Rhemun had been jealous. That was in the time before, when Rhemun was forced by Clan structure to take command of the Holconcom and captain the flagship Morcai. He had hated humans, and Dr. Mallory came in for a lot of harassment from him. That changed when she ran from a particularly painful argument and wound up at the lawless Benaski Port, hiding from everyone. She was attacked by a brothel owner while defending two little girls and left for dead. Rhemun had sent several members of his squad after the perpetrator, who was left in pieces. After that, he and Edris bonded. It had been a sad day in Mekashe’s life, because he adored the little blonde physician. But he was happy for his friend.

It was odd that he liked humans so much. In past times, Cehn-Tahr had been prejudiced toward outworlders. Ahkmau, the infamous Rojok prison camp, had changed all that. A combined crew of Cehn-Tahr and humans had been captured and held in the hellish concentration camp. Many had died regaining their freedom. It had drawn the two very different races close and led to the formation of the Morcai Battalion. The integrated group was a sentinel of racial tolerance in a sea of interstellar prejudice. It had done much to change attitudes in the three galaxies.

Now humans were family to the military Cehn-Tahr. Many of Mekashe’s comrades were as fascinated with the species as he was himself.

Mekashe had dreamed for most of his life about a blonde human female with exquisite features. But unlike Edris Mallory, who was short and delicate, Mekashe’s dream female was tall and willowy, and kindhearted. He had the gift of telepathy, which he shared only with the Royal Clan, of which he was part. Cehn-Tahr never publicized the ability among outworlders. In fact, they never spoke of their culture to anyone outside Memcache, the home planet of the Cehn-Tahr.

He wondered about the prophetic dream. Only Caneese, the bonded mate of the emperor, had such a great gift for seeing the future. It had not arisen in any other member of the Clan. But Mekashe often saw things before they happened. So the gift was at least present in him, if not as formidable as Caneese’s ability.

He was probably just dreaming, he thought, amused at his own weakness. His position gave him status among the Cehn-Tahr. Captain of the Imperial Guard was no small government job. It put him among planetal leaders, like Field Marshal Chacon, former field of the Rojok Army, who was now Premier of the Rojok Republic, having displaced the despot who had ruled after Mangus Lo. The depravity of the former Rojok government was something that Chacon was still having to live down. The death camp at Ahkmau had been hidden from everyone, even from Chacon, until he was forced to go there to save the Cehn-Tahr emperor’s daughter, Lyceria. In the course of that rescue, he had helped the humans and Cehn-Tahr of the Morcai Battalion to escape execution, as well. Now, in an irony of fate, Chacon was bonded to the emperor’s daughter. They were expecting their first child very soon. Gossip said that Chacon, that powerhouse of might, was pacing the floor and worrying himself to death, like any other prospective father. His passion for his mate had raised eyebrows, because Rojoks and Cehn-Tahr were traditional enemies. Now all sorts of new bonds were being formed. Homogenous cultures were becoming galactic ones, with the mixing. It produced some beautiful children. Kipling, Rhemun’s son, was one of those. He had long, curly blond hair—his father had long, curly black hair—and human features, but he had his father’s cat eyes that changed color with emotion. It was an exotic, fascinating blend of traits.

Mekashe would have liked a son, but he had found no Cehn-Tahr woman with whom he wanted to bond. The dreams of perfection, of that blonde phantom, haunted him. Probably, he reasoned, it was only a dream, and he would never meet...

“But I know it was this way!” a soft, feminine voice wailed, interrupting his thoughts. “I can’t believe this! Why isn’t there a map of the ship, or a holo, or anything...! Oh! Hello,” she said as she stopped just in front of Mekashe. “Sorry, I was just talking to myself. I do that, far too much. I’m lost. I’m lost! I was supposed to meet my father for dinner, and I can’t find him or the dining room or anything! I’m just hopeless!”

Mekashe’s eyes had turned from the solid blue of introspection to the soft, twinkling green of amusement as he listened to her. She was substance out of his dreams. He could hardly believe it. She was tall and willowy, with perfect, beautiful features. She had blue eyes and wavy blond hair pulled up into an elegant hairdo with glittering jewel accents. She was wearing blue—a pale, soft blue gown that left her arms and her nape bare, but covered her completely from neck to toe in front and draped in soft folds down to her jeweled high-heel shoes. She was the most magnificent creature he’d ever seen in his life.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurted when he didn’t speak. She wondered if he spoke some other tongue than hers. Her high cheekbones colored red. “I apologize for...” she began loudly, as if he might be hard of hearing rather than raised in a separate language.

He held up a hand and smiled. “No apology is needed,” he said in a deep, soft tone, in unaccented Standard. “The ship is extremely large and there are no virtual hubs to help you find your way. Where do you want to go?”

She studied him with utter fascination. “Did your eyes just change color?” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and unblinking on his golden-skinned face. He had eyes oddly like a cat. She was afraid of cats. But he was a man. He was a gorgeous man. She could overlook the eyes. They weren’t really catlike at all, she thought.

He chuckled, or what passed for one in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes,” he said. “It is a characteristic of my race. The colors mirror moods.” This much he was allowed by custom to discuss. The color changes were well-known.

“What is green?” she asked, truly interested.

“Amusement,” he said softly.

“Oh!” She sighed. “I was afraid that I’d offended you!”

“If so, my eyes would be dark brown, not green,” he replied.

“Are you an alien?” she asked. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never been off Terravega until we boarded this vessel. I saw a blue man just now!”

“Altair,” he said. “Possibly Jebob. The eye colors are different, but they both come from the same ancestry.”

“That’s fascinating!”

So was she. He was entranced. She’d never been off-world. Never seen an alien. He’d been all over the three galaxies and had seen races that were even now almost unreal.

“Would you like me to escort you to the dining room?” he asked politely.

“That would be so kind of you!”

He managed a smile. It was foreign to his culture, but he studied human traits and often emulated them. It was a holdover from his infatuation with Edris Mallory.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, and bowed slightly.

She caught her breath. He was gorgeous. She’d never seen anyone so handsome, alien or human.

Unknown to her, he read those thoughts with delight. The attraction was mutual, it seemed.

“Are you on holiday?” she asked as they walked past bulkheads that lined the outer structure of the spacegoing ship.

He chuckled. “I am returning to my home, after attending a conference. I would have taken a shorter route, but my...employer said that I needed the downtime. So it will be weeks before I reach my destination.”

She smiled. “Most people benefit from an occasional holiday. I know my poor father does. He was a college professor on Terravega—that’s where we’re from. He taught political science.”

“An interest of mine,” he replied.

She made a face. “I hate politics,” she murmured.

His dark eyebrows lifted in an almost-human manner. “What subject do you prefer?”

“Medicine!” she said enthusiastically. “I wanted so desperately to be a surgeon, but my mother, God rest her soul, was horrified, even though she was a physician from the time she was out of secondary school.”

“Why?” he asked gently.

“She said that I was far too innocent and sheltered for such a brutal profession.” She sighed. “Besides that, the only career path I could find led through the military. When I mentioned that, Daddy got involved, and he and my mother blindsided me.” She didn’t add that she despised the military, so she hadn’t fought them very hard.

He frowned. “Blindsided?”

“They joined forces to oppose me, before I knew what they were about,” she translated with a laugh like tinkling bells. “I suppose they were right. I’ve never seen alien planets before, or been in space. This is such an adventure!” She looked up at him with soft blue eyes. “Have you been in space before?”

He’d lived in it most of his life, but he hesitated to admit that. “Yes. A time or two,” he prevaricated.

She smiled. “I’d love to hear about it sometime.” She flushed and averted her eyes. “I mean, if you’d like to talk to me. I’m daffy. I drive Daddy nuts. Most people avoid me because they think I’m scattered.”

He stopped walking and just looked down at her. “These idioms.” He chuckled. “I must confess that I need a translator.” He said it softly, so that he didn’t offend her. “The humans I’ve known used very few.”

“I’m notorious for them, I’m afraid. What I mean is that I’m easily diverted and I don’t concentrate well. Daddy says it’s a sort of attention deficit disorder, but he doesn’t believe in drugs, so he refused to let them give me any to correct it.” She grimaced. “I suppose I sound like a lunatic...”

“I think you sound quite fascinating,” he said quietly, and his eyes began to take on a soft, light brown color.

“Your eyes changed color again,” she remarked, fascinated. “You aren’t angry?” she added worriedly, because he’d said that brown meant anger.

He chuckled, or what substituted for laughter in a Cehn-Tahr. “Yes. The colors can become confusing when several emotions are involved.” He nodded toward a door to avoid telling her that the soft brown meant affection. It was too soon for that. “I am not angry. The colors are more complicated than I can explain to you at the moment. The dining room is through here,” he said, diverting her.

“I forgot to tell you my name. I’m Jasmine. Jasmine Dupont. Our ancestry, they say, is French, from ancient Earth. It’s where all Terravegans come from.”

“I am called Mekashe.” He gave it the formal pronunciation.

“Mekashe.” She flushed a little as she said it, and smiled delightedly. She hesitated. “Would you like to meet Daddy?” she blurted out, and flushed again, a darker pink. “I mean, if you’d like to, if I’m not imposing...”

“I should like it very much. Jasmine.” He made her name sound exotic, foreign, thrilling.

She laughed. “Thank you...?” She hesitated, afraid that she was going to mess up the pronunciation.

“Mekashe,” he repeated slowly. He gave it the pronunciation that a stranger would use on Memcache, because names were pronounced in many different ways among the Cehn-Tahr, depending on length of relationship, Clan status, position and so forth.

“Mekashe.” She studied his strong, handsome face. “Do names have meanings among your people? I mean, my name is that of a flower on Terravega.”

Even more fascinating. She reminded him of a flower, delicate and beautiful. “They do,” he replied. “I was born on the day of a great battle, which ended well for my people. My name, among my own people, translates as ‘He of the warrior blood.’”

“Oh.” She hated the military, but she wouldn’t mention that, not when she found him so attractive. She laughed then, lightening his expression. “I love it!”

He cocked his head. He smiled. She entranced him.

They stood staring at each other until another passenger came barreling out the door and almost collided with them. Jasmine staggered, but he didn’t reach out to steady her. He ground his teeth together. If he touched her, even in an innocent way, it might trigger a mating behavior—especially considering the attraction he already felt. He saw her mild surprise at his lack of help, and he grimaced. He wasn’t even allowed to explain it to her. One didn’t elaborate on intimate customs among outworlders.

“There are reasons for my actions,” he said, compromising. “I wish I could explain. But I can’t.”

“You aren’t allowed to touch human females. Right?” she asked with certainty.

His eyebrows arched almost to his hairline.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry. Daddy says I’m always putting my foot into my mouth, figuratively speaking. I just plow right in, instead of thinking about what I’m saying. I sometimes offend people because I’m so impulsive.”

“I’m not offended,” he said gently, and smiled. “But I can’t confirm or deny your supposition.”

She laughed softly. Her blue eyes sparkled like jewels. “Okay.”

She turned, reluctantly, and led the way into the dining room.

It was vast and like a maze. There were booths, formal tables and a bar all sharing the same general open space. Jasmine’s father was seated at a formal, small table near the wall where the bubble port opened onto glorious space. A comet was passing by and her father had touched the viewscreen that doubled as a force shield, to magnify the comet in order to study it.

“He loves space,” she told Mekashe as they walked. “He wanted to be a starship commander, but his health was bad. Back when he was a child, genetic engineering was out of fashion, so he had a bad heart and poor eyesight. He still has both. I’m afraid he doesn’t move with the times at all. I do worry about him.”

Mekashe was even more curious now.

Malford Dupont was forty-two, thin and graying, with a receding hairline and a stubborn chin. He seemed fascinated with the comet and oblivious to the two people approaching his table.

“Daddy?” Jasmine called softly.

His head jerked toward her and he blinked. He laughed. “Sorry, I find the comet absolutely fascinating. This tech is beyond anything I’ve ever known,” he added, indicating the many functions of the screen that permitted magnification of space objects. His eyebrows lifted as he noted his daughter’s companion.

“I got lost, again.” Jasmine laughed. She looked up. “Mekashe helped me find my way here. Mekashe, this is my father, Dr. Malford Dupont.”

“Sir,” Mekashe said formally, and bowed. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Jasmine’s father stood and bowed, as well. “And mine, to make yours. Mekashe. You’re Cehn-Tahr,” he added, as if fascinated.

Mekashe nodded, a very human mannerism.

“Of all the coincidences.” The other man chuckled. “In fact, Jasmine and I are en route to your home planet, Memcache. I was chosen to be the first human ambassador to the Cehn-Tahr.”