by Autumn Dawn
An odd, fleeting expression crossed his face as he embraced Jasmine. It was gone so quickly Andrea could not decide if she had not just imagined his concern.
"As long as it's not twins,” Jasmine agreed.
Surmising this disjointed conversation meant Jasmine was pregnant again, Andrea offered her own congratulations.
The quartet fell into stride, with the men carrying on their own conversation while the women had theirs, occasionally inserting comments into each other's dialogue. The women did not notice as Keilor and Mathin subtly dropped back.
"You sensed something.” Keilor's tone was carefully neutral.
Sorrow pierced Mathin, as sharp as when he'd embraced Jasmine. Sometimes he felt things, knew things about the people he touched. Keilor knew.
"There will be no more children for you.” It was not the way he would have chosen to tell him.
A muscle twitched in Keilor's jaw. “I had hoped ... Jasmine badly desired a girl.” They were silent a moment.
"Will you tell her?” The sight of Jasmine's jaunty stride was enough to break Mathin's heart.
"She is my wife.” Keilor's simple answer spoke volumes.
Unaware of the grimness in their companions, Andrea enjoyed the scenery. She had yet to see the market, and was looking forward to it. “Are you excited?"
Jasmine smiled. “We love the boys very much, and we're looking forward to having another child.” She lifted her face to the sky, staring at the passing cumulus clouds. “Though politically it's probably not wise. I shouldn't have pressured Keilor into it they way I did.” Her smile was quick, though shadowed. “There's not much he wouldn't do for me."
"Dragonfly.” Keilor wrapped his arms around her, giving her a tender hug from behind. His hand caressed her stomach. “I am not sorry."
Andrea looked away, unwilling to intrude on their tender moment.
Mathin wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Come. You will enjoy our seafood, I think."
Feeling rather bold, she put her arm around his firm waist. The slight squeeze of his hand on her shoulder told her he was pleased.
* * * *
Andrea got only a glimpse of the marketplace before they led her into the restaurant. The wide windows sparkled with recent cleaning. A pleasant odor of sweetness and steaming seafood set her mouth watering as she surveyed the buffet. Mounds of snowy shellfish meat, swimming with vegetables, orange crustaceans arranged on leaves of kale, and seafood salads in bright red and white radicchio bowls tempted her chef's palate. Excited by the never-ending quest to try new foods, she loaded her platter.
"You're brave,” Jasmine said, eyeing the tentacle hanging off Andrea's platter. “Do you know where that comes from?"
"Don't tell until I've tasted it.” Andrea neatly flipped the appendage back onto her plate. “Besides, it can't be poisonous. He's eating it.” She nodded at Keilor, who'd taken a large helping.
"Keilor! I am not kissing you,” Jasmine warned.
His look said, we'll see.
They settled at a table by the corner to enjoy their meal. Although Andrea didn't think she'd ever enjoy the jellyfish, the moist baked fish was perfection. The tangy sauce that accompanied it could become an addiction. Equally as tasty was the hot and spicy crustacean stir fry.
Pleased to see Andrea enjoying this piece of his world, Mathin was caught off guard when Keilor casually asked, “Now that you're settling into respectable life, will you be seeing to your estates? I understand they've suffered some neglect in the last year."
Mathin stiffened. Ignoring Andrea's interest, he said, “I sent an overseer."
Keilor reclined against the back of the bench he shared with Jasmine. One arm was stretched across the back, toying with her hair. “Rumor has it he is incapable of handling your clan alone. They say he will walk away unless you come home."
"It is not my home.” Mathin's expression brooked no argument.
"It needs a warlord.” Keilor's tone was relaxed, but underneath was the Master of the Hunt. “Jayems and I agree that it becomes a threat to Haunt security. The last thing we need is another uprising.” He let the statement hang a moment. “Your presence could prevent it."
He would not say it, but Mathin knew the words were tantamount to an order. Grim duty clenched his jaw tight. This was not a confrontation he would make. Despite his wishes, he knew Keilor was right. His presence would prevent war.
"Um, what are you talking about?"
Andrea. The tension inside him mounted. His estates were no place for her.
Reading his glance with the ease of long friendship, Keilor suggested, “Take Isfael and Raziel. Our position is secure enough here, and you will need someone trustworthy at your back."
"Raziel perhaps. Not both. You are not that secure.” He sighed and regarded Andrea, who seemed about to burst from curiosity. “It seems I am needed on my lands."
Her brow furrowed. She hadn't known he had any. “Where are they?” Somewhere nearby, maybe?
"A few days ride from here."
Her eyes widened. “By stag?” She winced at his nod.
"Your grandmother would not enjoy the journey.” He would not pressure her to go. It was too dangerous unless she was willing. “I would not be back for a long time. Months, at least."
Andrea dropped her eyes and stirred the remains of her lunch, no longer hungry. Everyone was looking at her.
She'd just gotten somewhat used to this place; could she handle more adventure? “When would we go?"
Relief surged through him. “I dislike waiting, and the storm season is close. Three days."
Her soft grunt was her only answer.
"Good. I'll help with the details,” Keilor offered. He stood up and offered Jasmine his hand as Mathin did the same for Andrea.
They toured the market. At Mathin's insistence, Andrea bought several beautiful books. Each was covered with sturdy leather and bound with brass. The writing was similar enough to English for her to figure it out, although some of the words were odd. One was a cookbook.
"The Haunt version of Betty Crocker,” Jasmine assured her as she handed it to her. “Just don't try the recipe for pickled beetle eggs.” She smiled wickedly. “Too spicy."
She selected several bottles of essential oil and fragrance from the perfumer, and marveled later as Mathin pointed out which spices some of them came from as he purchased supplies. She chose her own herbs and seasonings from the colorful display of glass jars available in one of the numerous outdoor booths.
"Good idea,” Jasmine said, watching the merchant stash the herbs in waterproof packets. “Mathin's swamp slug leaves a lot to be desired."
"I was wearing a nose filter at the time,” Mathin growled. His temper had been short since Keilor's announcement. “You were the only one who could taste it.” He caught the merchant ogling Andrea and gave him a warning stare. The man hastily looked away.
He wasn't the only man who'd drooled over her during their expedition. For the most part Mathin's growls and frigid stares had doused the worst of their ardor, but only temporarily.
He'd have to take care of the situation before they left. There would be only one man enspelled by her when they rode out.
Unaware of his plans, Andrea followed Jasmine back to their rooms at the conclusion of their expedition. Their bodyguards, who'd hung back while Keilor and Mathin were with them, closed ranks to escort them through the crowd. It was difficult to imagine anyone braving the soldier's fierce countenances to get to the women, until Andrea remembered that everyone in the Darklands was a Haunt.
Unexpectedly tired, Andrea said good-bye to Jasmine and retreated to her room for a nap.
Unease nagged at her as she lay on the couch, one arm flung over her head. How had she become swept up so easily into Mathin's life? Why wasn't she desperate to go home? Her mind shied from the thought of going back, giving her proof of her feelings.
Still, she knew so little of him. Unless she'd misunderstood—and she thought she had
—Mathin was a lord of some kind. But why did he live such a Spartan existence, if it was true? It would explain how he could have arranged for this room—perhaps a favor from another lord. Jayems? She didn't like the idea of Mathin accepting favors on her behalf.
Did he resist going home because of lack of money? She chewed on the inside of her lip, considering. It would explain a great deal. Was giving up the tournament a bigger sacrifice than she'd suspected?
Guilt stabbed her. If Mathin was resisting entering for her sake than she was costing him far too much.
Resolved to push aside her personal reservations, she stopped squirming on the couch and got up to cook dinner. It would be easier to broach the subject over a good meal.
* * * *
"You want me to do what?” Mathin paused with his chopsticks half-way to his mouth. The combination of an excellent dinner and his travel plans had distracted him from even Andrea's enticing presence. Now he stared at her across the table, perplexed. What had caused this sudden change of heart?
"I'd like to you see in action.” Andrea flushed, uncomfortable with the lie. From the sudden intensity of his expression, he suspected. She kept her eyes down and took a sip of her wine. “After all, everyone says you're so good."
This from the woman who got ill at the sight of him in danger?
Uncomfortable under his knowing stare, she gave up. “I'm afraid you need the money and I'm keeping you from it.” There. She'd said it. Would he get mad?
Mathin's lips twitched. “I see.” For a moment he regarded her, torn between amusement and consternation. Never had he imagined this situation would develop in the mind of a women. But then, he was used to Haunt women, who knew all about him. “How did you.... “The realization that she had never seen him in more than his simple room and the most utilitarian of clothes hit him. “Never mind."
"It's not like it matters to me, but you were so upset about going back to your estate that I thought—"
"It's all right,” he assured her, cutting off her words. He did not want to explain about his past now. Better to reassure her of the future. “But you do not have to worry about money. I have easily more than ten times what Ellipse is offering as enticement.” Cash, at any rate. It would take longer to count the worth of his numerous stags and investments. He did not wish to tally it now. “There's no need to be concerned."
"Oh.” Now she felt foolish, but how could she have known? It wasn't as if he wore a sign or something.
He watched her for a moment. “However, I would not mind entering the tournament if you would agree to be a prize.” In truth, he would relish it, but he didn't want to pressure her. “It will be the last time I have such an opportunity.” Besides, he wished to gift her with the prize. He smiled at the very thought.
Andrea's resolve crumbled at the sight of that sexy smile. Only two more days and she could do something about the hot buttered rum he made of her insides. “Well ... maybe this once."
The smile became dazzling. She felt a little faint. “Just don't make a habit of it."
He stared at her red, full lips, very tempted to taste them. Had she used cosmetics? They were especially glossy and ripe-looking this evening. Maybe it was the glaze in his eyes.
"Two more days,” she warned him, breathless. He had to stop looking at her like that.
For a moment he said nothing. Her scent curled around him, tried to mesmerize him as it played on his roused passions. It took a tremendous act of will to close his eyes and force his thoughts elsewhere. “After the tournament, then."
The gravely whisper set her hands to trembling. It was difficult to leave them in her lap when she wanted more than anything to touch him. Her throat felt tight. “After the tournament."
He stood, carefully leaving the breadth of the table between them. “I would kiss you goodnight, but it would not end with a kiss."
She sucked in a breath and stood as well. It was difficult not to try her luck. The air sizzled between them, and it was all she could do to croak, “Two days.” At the moment it sounded like forever.
Abruptly, he turned and strode out of the room.
Feeling bereft, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stem the cold emptiness. Was this love? The need to crawl inside another person's skin and become one with them? The need for them to do the same? She wasn't sure of anything except that she wanted him with a need that was dizzying. Was that enough?
Logic had long since deserted her when it came to Mathin. He'd thoroughly sucked her into the mysteries of the Haunt. Now she was leaning on him to show her the way, to guide her out of this maze of conflicting desires. To keep her logic, or to trust a man? Faith or practicality? Too overwhelmed to make such a choice on her own, she dropped to her knees and did something she rarely did.
She prayed. And as she prayed something odd happened. In her mind's eye she saw herself and Mathin. She was smiling, and in her arms she held—
Shaken, her eyes popped open. A baby. She'd been holding their son.
Convinced she'd had enough time touching the mind of God, she got up and dusted off her hands, determined not to dwell on it. A useless vow, for even as she cleared the table, doubts lingered. Was Mathin rubbing off on her? Why would she suddenly be seeing visions?
She'd barely begun to consider a life with Mathin. Would he want children right away? She wasn't ready!
Telling herself to calm down, she resolved to have a talk with Jasmine. She'd know what kinds of birth control were available here. Mathin would just have to understand her position on things. They'd talk.
Hands sweaty at the very notion, she wiped them on her pants before she broke a plate. Surely he wasn't the type to count his prowess by the number of children he had? If not, he was in for a big disappointment, because she'd never imagined having more than one or two. American girls were not big on breeding herds of children.
Ah, well. Tomorrow was soon enough to see about it.
Chapter 7
Mathin set down his sage tea and eyed Andrea. She kept surprising him. “It is the woman's choice.” When her eyes widened, he added, somewhat embarrassed, “Do you not wish to have children?” Though he knew they were alone, he couldn't help checking. The topic was not one he could imagine having in front of his friends.
"We haven't even.... “Her face heated. There was no way she could baldly bring up the subject of her virginity. “It's kind of premature."
"Then we will not discuss it.” Relieved to have the conversation over, he gulped his drink and stood up. There was still much to do. “Fallon will be arriving today. It might be your last chance for a long while if you wish to speak to him."
Andrea had mixed feelings about it, but Matilda wasn't nearly so tame.
"Fallon!” Matilda called, running up to him as he dismounted his stag in the courtyard that afternoon. Both feet had barely hit the ground before she had him in a bear hug. “I hoped you'd get here in time."
"Ah, my only love,” Fallon teased, hugging her fondly back. “I told you I'd visit.” He looked at Andrea over her head, returning his attention to Matilda almost immediately. “I brought you the magazines you requested."
Matilda lit up as he handed her a plastic packet, as eager as any child. “Ooh, the latest issues of Crochet Digest and Sweater of the Month Club. Thank you, I hoped you would."
"My pleasure.” With a lop-sided smile, Fallon handed Andrea a pouch. “Jacks, silly putty and cards, you said.” When she shook her head at herself, smiling a little, he added, “I also included some particularly fine chocolates. I thought you might appreciate them."
Somewhat sheepishly, she nodded. “Thank you. It was very thoughtful of you."
Taking Andrea's arm, he smiled at Matilda, who was already poring over her magazines, and walked from the yard. “Tell me how you like the Darklands."
"The weather's nice."
"And the men?” he inquired with a teasing smile.
"Are you flirting with me?"
He laughed. �
�If I were would you object? Or is it Mathin I should be concerned about?"
Her face heated, and she looked down, studying the cobbled walkway. “I don't think he'd like it."
"Reached an understanding, have you?” he asked gently. A trio of pretty women waved at him, obviously hoping he'd stop and talk, but he only smiled back and moved on. “I was concerned."
Irritation made her frown. “I never noticed."
Fallon stopped and looked at her. “Mathin is a friend of mine. I wish to see him happy, but not at your expense. Do you dislike his attentions?"
She blushed.
"I thought not.” He continued on, this time without taking her arm. The blue sky made an elegant backdrop to his blond hair, an unusual color among the Haunt. “The hurricane season will be here soon, and I won't be able to visit for some time. Business matters.” He was silent a moment. “Is there anything you would like me to bring from Earth?"
"A bicycle?” she asked, frowning as they saw a group of riders in the distance. “A horse would be fine, too."
"Livestock from Earth dies here,” he said, grinning. “But a bicycle might be possible. I'll see about it."
"What do you bring Jasmine?"
The question caused him to cock his head in curiosity. “She wants nothing. The Darklands are her home now, and she's severed the ties to her past. Says she's happier that way."
Andrea thought soberly about that. “What if something happened to Keilor?"
"She would never take her children from their family or their home. Besides, she likes it here.” He watched her face. “Perhaps you will one day feel the same."
Maybe, maybe not. Andrea shoved her hands in her pockets. Things were still so new and unsettled, and it was going to take a lot more than a couple of weeks in the Darklands to make up her mind.
Latter that day as she visited Jasmine, Andrea was still thinking about her conversation with Fallon. She was helping to prepare the evening meal—she was making dessert—when she asked, “How long did it take before you felt you belonged here?"
Knife poised in the air, Jasmine considered. “Had to be when I was injured.” She laughed. “Every cadet here sent fruit trees and candy. Keilor was so jealous."
