Baby, it's Cold in Space: Eight Science Fiction Romances

by Margo Bond Collins

  That was why he chose the green parlor for this meeting. It had the most unblocked sound-conduits to the rest of the house.

  Then he sent Margaret Graves to spread the word that His Grace was about to do something extraordinary.

  "I know precisely which maid to tell," Mrs. Graves said, the wicked smile on her face reminding Edward why Graves chose her as his partner.

  His brief explanation of the situation caused everyone in the room to begin speaking at once—except, he noticed, Gabbi.

  "Wait." He held up one hand and projected his voice across the room, using the same tone he used when speaking in the Second House of Lords in New Parliament. "I have a plan to change his mind."

  He briefly considered whether to tell them that the king had already granted his grudging approval of Edward's idea.

  Not yet. If they agree to it, I will discuss it with Gabbi before moving forward.

  The ambassadoress subsided, crossing her arms and glaring at him, her mouth pinched tightly closed.

  Miss Esser took a step closer to the other woman, but continued to stand with her back almost against a wall, where she could easily see everyone in the rest of the room.

  She feels embattled.

  He hadn't missed the way she kept tucking her right hand into a pocket of her skirt.

  No doubt she has a weapon there.

  If he had his way, she would never again feel threatened on any of his properties—or anywhere on New London.

  "Well, Edward," his mother demanded, "please do tell us this plan of yours."

  Now that the moment had come, he found it difficult to put his strategy into words. A glance at Graves garnered no help from that quarter.

  He's as skeptical as the king.

  Begin at the beginning.

  He took a deep breath and started speaking. "We know the Drovek have ported through to an area near the Coriolis Quadrant." With a nod at Graves, he had his butler open a photonic display in three dimensions. "We assume they chose these points of entry"—he highlighted two places on the map—"because it is a gap in the Coalition's current defenses."

  Gabbi took an involuntary step forward. "That's where the Achilles was headed after I boarded the Odysseus."

  With a nod, Edward zoomed in on the old battleship's location. "Your former ship is currently the only thing between the Drovek and several major planets. Including your home planet," he said, turning to the ambassadoress.

  Her Excellency didn't change expression except to narrow her eyes even further. "What is it that you propose?" she asked.

  "That's just it. I … well, I propose to propose."

  That seemed to throw the off-worlder. "To do what, precisely? Take the king's place?" Her expression changed from skeptical to horrified as she considered the implications. "Absolutely not."

  Edward shook his head and waved his hand in negation. "Not exactly. Hear me out." This time, the ambassadoress dropped into a nearby seat and leaned forward to listen to him.

  "You know of New London's stealth-tech program, yes?" He waited for brief nods from both off-worlder women.

  Good. She told Gabbi. This could be awkward, otherwise.

  More awkward.

  "At this point, we have the only technology capable of taking the Drovek by surprise. Not to mention the only spaceships that can catch up with their attack ships before they reach either the Achilles, or any inhabited planets."

  "But," the ambassadoress said, and it wasn't precisely a question.

  She knows where this is going, at least in part.

  "His Majesty will not sign a treaty without some form of binding between New London and the Coalition. The events at the Winter Ball destroyed that possibility."

  "Can't I just apologize and be done with it?" Gabbi interrupted him.

  Edward shook his head. "No. You can't. There's no social protocol for it—you couldn't possibly apologize profusely enough to make up for an insult that immense." He paused nervously, then forged ahead. "However, a duchess could."

  Gabbi's face clouded. "A duchess?" She glanced around in confusion, her eyes settling on Edward's mother.

  "My duchess, in particular." He saw the moment she comprehended what he was getting at. Her eyes grew huge and round, and a series of emotions flashed through them so quickly that Edward couldn't read them all.

  But he was certain of two of them: Horror. And a spark of interest.

  I can work with that.

  "Therefore," he said, striding to Gabbi, taking her limp, cold hand in both of his, "I have something very particular I must ask of you." Turning to his press secretary, he said, "Please take notes. You may need to issue a press release later today." The secretary, his eyes almost as wide as Gabbi's, nodded, and turned on his hidden recording device.

  Edward gazed intently into Gabbi's eyes and dropped to one knee. "Would you, Gabrielle Esser, consent to be my wife?"

  ***

  This can't be happening.

  The duke's fingers pressing against hers felt like they would scorch her skin, and the room seemed to grow inexplicably smaller.

  "As in, marry you?" she said.

  He grinned at her, the heat of his hand reflected in a banked fire in his eyes, and for the first time, she noticed that his dark hair curled a little around his ears. "As in," he repeated with a nod.

  Panicked, her gaze flickered to Kiara, who didn't seem terribly surprised by this development.

  "You knew," she accused her friend.

  "No," Kiara said, gesturing at the man kneeling before Gabbi. "His Grace mentioned an interest in you to me earlier tonight—last night, now, I guess—but I had no idea the Drovek would …" she paused, as if searching for the right phrasing, "force his hand so soon."

  Gabbi glanced around the room at the various people waiting for her to respond. None of them seemed to openly oppose the duke's plan.

  In fact, his mother seemed to be suppressing a smirk.

  "But I'm nobody," she protested.

  "I, on the other hand, am the king's cousin. I am a Peer of New London. And if you marry me, you will not just be my duchess." He stood, and used his grip on her hands to pull her close to him, until they stood only inches apart. "You will be the savior of the Coalition from an alien lifeform determined to wipe us out. You'll be the reason your former shipmates survive what would otherwise be a devastating attack against which they cannot defend. You will be the catalyst to propel New London to join the twenty-eighth century."

  He paused. Gabbi wouldn't have thought it possible, but he deepened his gaze into her eyes. "And if you will allow it, you will be the woman I spend the rest of my life loving."

  ***

  "This is insane," Gabbi hissed at Kiara, who smiled beatifically at her.

  "Oh, yes," the ambassador sang out. "It absolutely is."

  The two women stood at the entrance to the tiny chapel on the manor grounds. Gabbi wore the silver-blue ball gown, hastily altered to look slightly different, and festooned with fresh flowers. She clutched a matching bouquet.

  "I can't marry the duke," Gabbi said, for what must have been the hundredth time in the last hour—the amount of time it had taken her to prepare for the wedding she had agreed to in an apparent bout of psychosis.

  "No," Kiara said. "Having been betrothed to the king, I can't marry the duke. You, on the other hand, may marry anyone you please."

  "It's utter lunacy."

  Kiara's voice turned serious. "But it really will save us all, Gabbi." She paused. "I can't make you do this. No one can. But if necessary, I can beg."

  Blowing out a breath, Gabbi shook her head. "No. You don't have to beg. I'll do it."

  Even if it means staying on this god-forsaken planet.

  Yet she didn't feel the surge of horror at the prospect. Instead, she flashed on an image of the duke—Edward, she corrected herself, he's Edward now—telling her he would spend the rest of his life loving her, if she'd allow it.

  A part of her she hadn't even known was empt
y seemed to fill with emotion at the memory.

  If I permit it.

  This was not a man set on conquest.

  The duke was, rather, determined to save his people, his planet, her ship and the entire Coalition.

  That was a man of honor.

  The doors opened and some kind of orchestral music cued her to begin walking down the aisle, filled with the duke's household servants and his mother. Yes, she decided as she caught sight of him waiting at the altar, I could learn to love a man like that.

  Besides, he looks awfully good in those pants.

  Chapter Eleven

  "TECHNICALLY," THE DUCHESS—really the dowager duchess now—said, "the marriage should have been consummated before the treaty is signed." She shot a significant glance at Gabbi. "I trust I can count on you to attend to that as soon as it becomes feasible?"

  Gabbi nodded, her face flaming.

  What is it about this planet that makes me blush every single time anyone brings up the issue of sex?

  Luckily, only Gabbi, the dowager duchess, and Kiara were in the carriage. After what Gabbi had been given to understand was an extraordinarily short marriage service, the duke—Edward—went ahead of the rest of the party to speak in person to the king.

  And now I'm going to have to give my scripted apology.

  In the meantime, the duke's press secretary was releasing the news that there was a new Duchess of Wiltshire.

  As she and her party entered the palace, however, it became instantly clear that the gossip was already making the rounds, official announcement or no. The giant foyer, buzzing with activity only a moment before, fell silent as the other nobles there began to recognize their party.

  "Chin up. Back straight. You are a duchess now," Gabbi's new mother-in-law said out of the corner of her mouth, before stepping forward without looking to either the left or the right.

  Gabbi and Kiara trailed along in her wake, Gabbi attempting to replicate her confident stride.

  Kiara was better at it, Gabbi suspected. After all, she had trained for the position of Queen of New London.

  A tiny voice at the back of her mind repeated over and over, "This is totally cracked."

  It was, however, too late to back out now.

  Unless I refuse consummate the marriage.

  She dismissed that thought almost immediately, then had to stop herself from giggling aloud.

  I guess my sex drive is stronger than my sense of self-preservation. And has more influence over me than my sanity.

  As they entered the antechamber where they were to wait for an audience with His Majesty, the dowager duchess handed more of those paper-like cards to a servant, who glanced at them, a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

  Apparently the news hadn't made all the rounds.

  The duchess moved toward several empty chairs at the end of the room, and as their group passed a cluster of noblewomen also waiting to see the king, someone hissed, "Slut."

  Gabbi froze mid-step. Every instinct she had told her that she needed to put down this kind of behavior immediately. She'd seen it before in the Fleet—let one pushy soldier get away with insubordination, and the entire squad went bad. Fast.

  The dowager duchess was in the process of scanning the seated women to determine who had spoken, but Gabbi also knew she had to take care of it herself.

  "Lady Victoria," she said in her best imitation of her haughty mother-in-law, "are any of these women important?"

  The dowager duchess blinked, allowing her gaze to rove over them once more. "Why, no, my dear Duchess. Not at all."

  Gabbi nodded, ignoring the collective gasp at the use of her new title, and turned to Kiara. "When I return home, would you be a darling and remind me to strike them from any future guest list?"

  Without looking at any of them again, Gabbi brushed her skirts to the side, as if to keep them from being contaminated, tilted her chin up, and practiced gliding to her own chair.

  "Well done," the dowager duchess murmured as she joined Gabbi a few seconds later.

  I might be able to get the hang of this duchess business eventually, after all.

  ***

  Something about his new bride had changed since the last time Edward saw her. Or rather, changed back. The woman who entered the throne room where he and the king waited carried herself with the self-confidence she'd had when she attacked him in his own foyer. He needn't have worried about the fact that his mother and the ambassadoress wouldn't be able to come in with Gabbi.

  Absolutely perfect, he wanted to sigh.

  Instead, he simply took her hand and raised it to his lips in greeting. Turning to the king, he opened his mouth to introduce her, but George held up two fingers, telling him to wait.

  "We understand that you are Our new cousin by virtue of marriage to Edward here?"

  Gabbi blinked at the use of the royal We, but curtseyed to the ground and said, "Yes, Your Majesty." She remained there, awaiting the king's permission to rise.

  George frowned, glancing between her kneeling form and his cousin. "This is not precisely what I meant when I told you to find a bride by Boxing Day, you know."

  Edward couldn't help the lopsided grin that spread across his face. "And yet I have adhered precisely to your commands. And, by Your Majesty's leave, have thereby solved a rather knotty problem for the realm."

  The monarch shook his head in resignation, but he, too, was smiling. "You may rise, Duchess Wiltshire. We will arrange to speak more fully soon. Now, however, it seems you and I must avert a crisis."

  As Edward stepped forward to assist his wife as she rose—help she didn't need, he quickly realized—the king stepped down from the throne.

  "I thought I had to apologize?" Gabbi whispered to Edward.

  "I believe we can consider it done," he replied, equally quietly.

  "Now," George said. "Let's get this treaty dealt with."

  ***

  "You know," Gabbi said, gazing at the blinking lights surrounding her in the palace's War Room, representing the placement of the various spaceships in the forthcoming battle, "for a planet that frowns on the use of technology, you're awfully good with it."

  In the hours since she'd arrived at the palace, the treaty had been revised, ratified by a special session of Parliament, and signed. King George and Kiara had actually met for the first time at the signing, and Gabbi was sure she saw regret flash across the king's features when he looked at the ambassador from the Coriolis Quadrant.

  Had the king actually wanted to marry Kiara?

  For an instant, Gabbi felt guilty, but the sheer relief on Kiara's face as she turned away from signing the document mitigated that concern. Then her new husband brushed his hand against hers as he walked by, sending tingles up her arm, and all concern about the king's thwarted plans disappeared from her mind.

  Now, she stood in the War Room as special advisor to the king, discussing potential strategies against the Drovek.

  "That remains our biggest obstacle," she was saying to him. "We don't know exactly what their capabilities might be. We don't even know what they look like. No one's ever caught one, and their ships self-destruct the instant we capture and attempt to enter one." She glanced at Kiara. "Unless there's something I don't know?"

  "No," the ambassador said. "That's everything. Our physicists have some guesses as to their means of propulsion, but we've never been able to test it. All we know is they port into an area, wipe out everything they can, and port right back out. All attempts to follow them have failed, as far as we know. None of our ships have returned."

  "The QE23 has arrived on site, Your Majesty," a technician announced.

  "As has the HMS Yorkshire," another added, as two new pinpricks of light appeared in the room's display.

  The monarch gazed at the lights in the air above him, the representations of the spaceships that would out his planet's long-hidden stealth technology program.

  "Fire when ready," he said.

  The demolition of
an entire fleet of Drovek ships looked like nothing more than silent, sparkling fireworks in the air above them, and for a moment, the room was silent.

  Gabbi wondered if they would ever learn more about the aliens' goal in attacking human-settled planets.

  Edward finally spoke. "With your leave, Your Majesty, I would very much like to take my new bride home."

  When she glanced up at him, his eyes bored into hers, and her stomach flip-flopped.

  "Oh," she breathed. "Yes, please. Your Majesty," she added as an afterthought.

  They all but raced to the carriage, and once inside, they didn't speak again for a long, long time.

  Epilogue

  TWELVE DAYS LATER, ON BOXING DAY, Edward held a ball to introduce New London Society to the new Duchess of Wiltshire.

  "I think they probably remember me," Gabbi said ruefully as she rang for one of the maidservants to come help her dress in the new gown the dowager duchess had helped her choose.

  Edward grinned at his new bride. "I think you'll be surprised at how much more a duchess can get away with when compared with a mere lady lieutenant."

  Rolling her eyes, she dropped onto their bed. "You should be careful," she said. "I used to be in the Coalition Fleet. I know at least five different ways to kill you with my bare hands."

  "Mm," Edward said, his eyes heating up. "It's not so much your bare hands I'm interested in." Sliding his own hand up her thigh, he captured her mouth with his.

  "Do we have time?" she murmured against his lips.

  "Our guests can wait."

  "Oh, yes," Gabbi whispered, then a moment later, said aloud, "Dammit, Edward. How do you cancel a call on this thing?"

  With a throaty laugh, he took the controls out of her hands and entered the command. "You're the duchess, you know. You can simply tell the maid to go away when she arrives."

  Gabbi shook her head and sighed. "Seriously. You New Londoners."

  Then she wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and pulled him down to kiss her again.