by Autumn Dawn
He looked off to the side as if searching for patience. “Let me share with you my dream of family, instead. I had envisioned myself coming home from work to find my family content and happy to see me. I work hard so that my wife can spend her time making our home pleasant and seeing that our children are raised right. I have no objection to her having hobbies, but I don’t want to see her so consumed that she has nothing left for her family. I would hope to see her put her family first, yet find a way to fulfill her own needs as well. I can’t see how running a business would leave room for this.” He looked up, clearly watching how she reacted.
She considered him. “Do you feel the same about my ambassadorial duties? After all, you arranged for me to have them. Went to a great deal of trouble, in fact.”
“They were not intended to last longer than our wedding,” Ryven said, frustrated, then froze as he realized what he’d revealed.
Too late. She pounced on his words. “Of course, being an ambassador is a highly respectable and genteel occupation. If only it took up more of my day, I’m sure I could be content.” When he remained mute, she added sweetly, “Of course, it would help if the IC and GE would communicate a bit more often. There haven’t been any pin beams from them, have there?”
He studied her a long moment, his expression a mix of frustration and stubbornness. At last he admitted, “As I said, your duties were not arranged for the purpose of supplying you with an occupation. I could not wed you if your rank was not closer to my own.”
This was interesting. She digested that, then said slowly, “Let me see if I understand what you’re saying. You planned to marry me all along, and went to a great deal of trouble to make it happen. Why? What was I to you but an alien?”
He refused to answer, simply tapped one hand on the table in silent aggravation.
She could hardly contain her glee. He might not admit it, but he was neatly trapped. Just to torment him, she said, “Well, now that I am an ambassador, I find I like it. I would like to see any communication from the GE and IC, please. I can’t do my job if I’m not informed.”
He was silent for a time. Finally he said, “Have you ever run an estate?”
She cocked her head, wondering at his change of subject. “My sister has one, but I don’t know much about it. I don’t see what this has to do with our discussion.”
He nodded. “We have one with several dozen tenants. Many of them grow produce for the fresh market: flowers, spices, fruit. A few of them produce livestock or farm crafts. Do you know how to judge superior produce?”
She frowned. “Are you really that desperate to change the subject?”
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said doggedly. It was clear he was determined to ignore anything he had no wish to discuss.
How annoying. Well, she could circle back to her point later. She, too, could be stubborn. Just to show that she, at least, was cooperative, she said, “I didn’t work in the kitchen much, but sure, I could tell good stuff from bad. We couldn’t accept goods from bad vendors.”
“Excellent. And your knowledge of farming?”
She looked at him suspiciously. “I have none. Are you suggesting I might want to…what? Oversee this business? I don’t see how I’ll have time. An ambassador is a busy woman…when she’s allowed to read her mail.” She’d thought about it after her talk with Tessla and decided there must have been communication between the two groups. If nothing else, the IC would be very curious about the Scorpio. When word got out, the people back home would want to know everything they could about the “mysterious” race. She’d tell them for nothing that they were uncommonly stubborn.
He reached for a piece of fruit from the display on the table and toyed with it. “You wanted to be productive.”
She could only bang her head against a brick wall for so long without developing a headache. If he thought they were done, however, he was dead wrong. She’d give ground now and come back at him when he didn’t expect it. It was easier than keeping track of two conversations. “Who runs it now?”
“I have a manager. You can train with him, and with me when I have time.”
“It doesn’t sound like something I’m going to enjoy for long, and I get grouchy when I’m bored. You might live to regret this.”
Ryven raised a brow. “Then you agree?”
She snorted. “You are so manipulative.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ve already had a shuttle prepared for us. We’ll leave to tour the estate immediately.” He looked pleased.
Her eyes narrowed. “You had this all planned?” Granted, it was before she’d brought up her arguments, but as a distraction, it worked in his favor.
He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s traditional for wives to have a hand in running family estates. Ours has been part of the family for six generations. You’ll be carrying on a legacy.” He offered her an apologetic look. “I hadn’t mentioned it before because I wanted you to be more settled before we discussed such things. We’ve had an unconventional courtship.”
Ryven, apologetic? Unlikely. He was just trying to soften her. She was tempted to argue just because her blood was up. It annoyed her that he’d outmaneuvered her.
There was nothing she could say, however, so she forced a toothy smile. “Great.”
However annoyed she was with his stubbornness, she liked his plan to take a scenic flight in his personal aircraft before heading for the estate. She hadn’t known he had a personal aircraft, let alone one with comfortable seats and plenty of legroom. It came equipped with a small galley, lavatory and bedroom. “Nice,” she told him. “Can I fly it?”
He smiled ruefully. “I knew you would ask. Of course you may, since I’ll be here to act as your flight instructor. I’ve heard some encouraging things about your simulator training. I’m eager to see you in action.”
The flight went as smooth as Xera could have hoped, and Ryven soon relaxed with her at the controls. They traveled at a leisurely speed so she could admire the snow-covered mountains and expanses of farmland between towns. After they’d traveled for nearly an hour, he took over and piloted them down to a neatly terraced hill farm. A generously proportioned but welcoming mansion of brown stone trimmed in white granite occupied the side of a gentle southern slope.
They landed on a private shuttle pad and Ryven shut down the engines. “Welcome home.”
Xera blinked at him. “Home? I thought that was your palace.”
Ryven shook his head. “Not really. Put your gloves on. I want to show you the grounds first.”
He was justly proud of the place, she thought as she walked the freshly shoveled pathways and admired the snow-cloaked gardens and stone walls. There was even a fountain close to the house that was flanked by backless benches. A current kept the shallow water ice free for the bright fish that darted through it.
Lavender snow might cover the hedges and orchards, but Xera could see the bones of a very lovely garden. The setting was tranquil, far different from the hustle and bustle of palace life. She could see why such a place would appeal to Ryven, but…
“That’s an odd smile,” he commented as they walked arm in arm. Apparently a private garden didn’t forestall that kind of touching. She was still learning what was considered appropriate and when it was okay to bend the rules.
“Of all the places I’ve seen you, this is the first time you…Well, I’d just never have imagined you on a farm.”
He smiled. “There’s more to me than war. Come and see the house, and you’ll see how much.”
The entryway had a bench to one side for removing winter boots, and a walk-in closet to the side for their coats. Xera was pleasantly surprised to find slippers waiting in her size. She sent Ryven a questioning look.
“I had the caretaker prepare the place for us,” he said.
She glanced around at the gleaming staircase in front of them, then at the hallways leading left and right. She chose to investigate the living room first. A copper-tiled fireplace warme
d the far wall, and she thought the picture over the mantel looked like one of Tessla’s. The floors were tiled in earth tones, and the walls were a lovely shade of cream. Some of the sitting pillows were made of animal hide with large black and white patches. Others were brown leather embroidered with gold thread. The accessories were tasteful and elegant. It looked like the work of a professional decorator and probably was.
“Nice,” she said.
The room on the other side of the hallway was a dining area with a view of the kitchen. There were more floor pillows here, and the absent cook had thoughtfully left the table set for two. A pair of covered dishes and a plate of sweet dumplings sat on the table.
“I’m impressed,” Xera said when they sat down and pulled the covers off the pots. “They’re still steaming.”
Ryven smiled. “Timing is everything.”
She smiled in return and accepted a serving of rich vegetable soup. She didn’t know how it was done, but she’d never had a broth that was so incredibly rich and satisfying, without a trace of cream. She was about to ask if Ryven knew how it was prepared when she caught him looking at her expectantly. “What? It’s very good, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
He grimaced. “I’m trying to be patient, but you’re making it difficult.”
“About what?” she asked, all at sea.
He seemed about to speak, then sighed and asked, “How do you like the house?”
Was that all he wanted? His look had seemed to ask more. She said slowly, “Well, it’s beautiful, of course. I haven’t seen all of it, but if the rest of it looks like this, I’ll love it. Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“No.” He shut his mouth firmly and applied himself to his soup.
Wondering what had gotten into him, she finished her broth and the spiced vegetables in the other dish. She was hungry! Must be the winter air. A gusty sigh blew over her as she was reaching for a second dumpling. They were filled with a delightful brown cheese with a crunchy texture. The filling practically danced in her mouth, and she was reluctant to take her attention from it. She shot her husband an inquiring look.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked.
What? This was starting to bug her. Why couldn’t he just speak his mind? “What do you mean?” she snapped.
He looked exasperated. “The baby! I thought you’d tell me by now.”
“What baby? I haven’t been around any babies lately.” She thought about his family, his nephews and nieces. All of them were well out of diapers. “Is one of your sisters pregnant again? Nobody told me.”
He stared hard at her, then blinked. “You don’t know?”
“Know what? What are you…?” She trailed off as a thought came over her. “Wait a minute. You don’t think I’m…” She laughed, but her humor was short-lived. The expression on his face was too serious. The hairs on her neck stood straight up. “Not funny, Ryven.”
His eyes moved to her middle and lingered. It was almost as if he could see…It hit her: “You can see in infrared. But…there should be nothing to see yet. I-I mean, there’s nothing to see. I haven’t even felt anything yet.” She was stammering, his intent expression throwing her off. She frantically reworked her mental math, calculating dates. Her birth control must have worn off. Well, it was a good product, but not infallible. Still…“Look, I would know if something was up, okay?”
“Apparently not.” He sat back, his eyes beginning to heat with amusement. “I thought you were only teasing me by not saying anything.”
She took a deep breath. “Only a doctor would know this early in the game. I can’t be pregnant!” She realized she’d been depending on the supposed differences in their physiology to keep her from becoming pregnant; it had allowed her to nod and smile when he’d talked of family planning. Apparently there weren’t any of significance in the matter of fertility. That’s what she got for making assumptions.
“You are. I can see the color markers. I noticed it this morning, but all you wanted to do was argue. Why do you think I was so vexed?”
“Because you’re a…” She bit off her retort and stood up. This was horrible news! She wasn’t ready for something like this. She felt trapped, confused.
He stood also. “You don’t like it?”
Her angry arm gesture was meant to convey extreme agitation. “No, I don’t like it! I don’t like these sorts of surprises. I’m not ready to be a mother.”
“We talked about this.” His expression was stern, a touch cold.
“You mentioned it. I never agreed,” she said vehemently. “Do I look like a mother to you? Do you look like a father?” Her throat closed up as she saw him flinch. What ever she felt, it wasn’t the need to hurt him. “That wasn’t fair. I’m sure you’d make a great father. It’s just…I’m not…” She turned away, unable to explain what she felt, not to him. She was trapped. If she was having his baby, then she was truly trapped. Had he known that?
She felt Ryven settle a hand on her shoulder. He couldn’t miss her tension, but she didn’t want to relax just to spare his feelings.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “If I’d known what a shock it would be to you, we could have taken more care.”
She drew a ragged breath. “It’s my fault—I assumed I had it covered.”
“You’re not alone,” he murmured. He waited, his touch drawing away her resistance. Eventually, she turned and buried her face in his chest. But her hands rested on his stomach, ready to push him away.
“I’m so not ready for this. This happened too fast.” Being cut off from her family, the crash, him. Maybe she’d never really dealt with all of it, had been too busy surviving. Funny, how a thing like a baby could shatter all the walls. A wave of panic rose up and threatened to engulf her.
“Breathe,” he commanded, taking her face in his hands. “Xera, listen to me. Breathe!”
She tried to obey, but it was a struggle. She’d never hyperventilated before.
He muttered something, then carried her into the living area and settled them on a floor cushion. “Breathe,” he coached her, and began to massage her feet.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, and tried to jerk her foot away.
“Giving your mind something to focus on.” It was weird, but it worked. In a few minutes, her breathing was mostly back to normal. She began to feel tired. Worse, she began to cry.
Ryven instantly stopped rubbing her feet and moved up to hold her. “Easy, wife. Hush.” He held her while she blubbered and babbled, then rose to fetch her some tissues. When the storm finally calmed, he stroked her hair. “Some better?”
“No,” she groused, though she did feel somewhat improved. “I hate that I cried.”
He thought about that. “I understand that’s not abnormal.”
She sniffed. “If you tell me that pregnant women cry all the time I’ll have to hit you.”
He laughed. “Have mercy! I’d have to let you win.”
She growled. “It’d serve you right if I had triplets.”
There was a pause. “Is that a possibility?” He had the nerve to sound eager.
“I doubt it. Oh, I hope not!” The idea of babies in triplicate was daunting. She had an appalling vision of herself as large as a shuttle. “Do you know how helpless pregnant women are? I’ll look like I swallowed a moon!”
He sat up and took her by the shoulders. Sternly, he said, “My wife will look regal and lovely carrying my children. I will not accept you holding any backward beliefs about this. It’s a proud moment in a man’s life. I’ll be pleased to see you change with the life that’s within you.”
Xera took a breath. No, she couldn’t take this man’s child away, and couldn’t talk about her feelings. Even if he’d trapped her on purpose, she couldn’t hurt him, not about this. “Change scares me.”
He kissed her. “Change brought me you.”
Chapter Eighteen
They didn’t go home that night. Ryven let Xera nap. He woke her just before d
inner to show her the rest of the house. He distracted her with a board game and joined her for a hot bath when she began to yawn. Most importantly, he didn’t try to make love to her that night, sensing that what she needed was to be held. When they woke in the morning, he was very gentle in his lovemaking, careful that it held the reassurance she craved.
It was different, seeing her so vulnerable. After everything she’d been through, he wouldn’t have thought it would be the news of her impending motherhood that would bring her low. Women were strange creatures, he mused as he escorted her back to the shuttle. Sometimes he thought his was stranger than most. Still, he liked her. It was a novel sensation, being friends with a woman who wasn’t a relative. It was especially refreshing having that relationship with a wife.
He grinned, thinking of his children to be. He made sure Xera wasn’t looking. It wouldn’t do to have her catch him at it when she was feeling so low—she’d probably try to damage him. But, why shouldn’t he be happy? This moment had been a long time coming.
He needed to find a sufficiently distracting matter for Xera. She didn’t need to be brooding about this, and he suspected she’d become used to it in time. With luck, she’d soon take her situation in stride and treat it with her accustomed practicality.
Of course, he would never admit that he knew pregnancy would hobble her. As happy as he was about the baby, he was even happier to know that his wife was now welded to him. She missed her family, yes, but there was nothing like carrying a child to create stronger ties. He’d seen it many times before. He understood Xera well enough to know it would be the same with her.
And he was fiercely glad. Her strong will had given him pause in the early days, when he had first began to desire her, until he’d realized that will would probably be inherited by any children they might have. It had pleased him enough that he’d decided it would be worth it to have a wife who was a bit beyond his control. She was the only woman who had ever made him happy, and that’s all he really wanted in a wife.
