Romance: Alien Romance: Having The Kings Baby (A Paranormal Science Fiction Shifter Romance ) (Sci-fi Alien Invasion Abduction Romance)

by Riley Forrest

  Clare asked, “Do you want it in the order of importance, or sequence?”

  The Duchess grinned. She knew that whatever fire had started, Clare would have already dampened some of the flames. “I’ll leave it to you.”

  “Okay.” Clare took a breath and began. She briefed the Duchess of all the current affairs not missing a single happening. It really proved how efficient the maid was.

  She made a note of all the information her maid fed her. “I’ll attend to all the matters one by one, so give me a little time, will you Clare.” She said.

  “I don’t think those words translates into something negative?” Clare said and waited a moment, then went on, “I’ll leave you to it and see you as soon as you can spare the time. But I would appreciate very much if you would give top priority to the case of Bealot, day by day she is getting out of hand and because of her, we have lost a couple of lambs.” She smiled impishly.

  The Duchess frowned. This was something she’d been expecting. “Okay, Clare, I’ll get back to you in a few minutes.

  After Clare had left the room the Duchess leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She had indeed been expecting this request from Clare.

  The Duchess opened her eyes and automatically reached for the, bell ready to ring for her maid as she had so many times after her husband’s accident, when her eyes fell on the smiling painting of her husband, framed and resting on the antique table. She put down the bell. She’d learned not to call and inquire about her husband, not to smother him with her concern, her private need to assure herself that he was all right, still miraculously alive….that although she could never, ever change what had happened, or forgive herself….he was still alive. He’d hated those inquiries, had finally accused her of checking up on him, of denying the fact that wheelchair or no, he was functioning at least as half a man. His coldness at those times was too painful.

  Fredric, she breathed to herself, trying to keep her emotions from taking over. They’d once had it all…evidently had enough to offend the gods. And now, just two years after the accident, they lived in a sort of truce, each terribly conscious of the other’s fragility, stepping around one another’s feelings, never addressing problems head on. They lived as though it had not happened; trying to pretend everything was the same between them.

  It was only when she was alone, or very tired, that she allowed her feelings to surface. At those times she felt like a crazy woman. Sexually Frustrated, furious, unable to understand why it happened to them, unable to forgive the fates.

  And how she missed the love and bed they had once shared. Now, there was almost nothing. And she would have accepted so little, his touch, his caressing, his warmth, his affection.

  Unconsciously her hands reached out to her vitals, one hand between her thighs groping with her pubic mound, while her other hand caressed her rounded pouting breasts.

  Camellia straightened in her chair, chiding herself for becoming maudlin, she swore she would never allow herself to be over carried by her sexual frustrations and wants.

  The Duchess could not ignore, no matter how much she disliked Bealot as a person. Of course Bealot knew her worth and took full advantage of it. She never pretended otherwise. Still, not a day went by which the Duchess did not wish that she could afford to get rid of Bealot.

  The Duchess faulted herself for hiring Bealot, but her background as a former maid had been perfect for the job and she seemed mature enough to take the nobles verbal instructions. Obviously she had been wrong.

  Bealot never wanted the farm to succeed; she wanted the farm workers to learn only enough to do her drone work.

  Well, the Duchess couldn’t let Bealot go on. She was a practical Duchess and a farm like this couldn’t afford to throw away the reputation it had gained. She sighed and rang the bell to summon Bealot. At least she could guarantee that the farm would find Bealot a better job somewhere else.

  Bealot, heard the bell ring her chin and shoulder, stared lovingly at her expensive deer skin coat hanging on the back of her closed door.

  She murmured the usual, “the bitch wants me,” she stood up, but she was thinking of the luxurious coat against her skin. Not only was the coat wonderfully sensuous, it was tangible evidence of her vanity. She had bought the coat for herself …. At the county fair to be sure….but nonetheless she’d bought it with not her own money.

  Few males ever gave Bealot presents. Especially men of standing, aside from her strong personality and subtle ability to let a man feel somehow inferior, men were put off by Bealot’s astonishing beauty. There was something almost wild in her flashing turquoise come hither eyes. She was a petite young woman, but her body suggested a lushness from her firm, full breasts to her long, slender legs. She was attractive and frightening at the same time.

  Now Bealot quickly slipped into the coat. Okay, Bealot, she addressed herself silently. Step into the lion’s den before lunch, Mustn’t keep her highness waiting.

  The Duchess looked up as Bealot entered and saw the coat, “Aren’t you rushing things a bit?”

  Bealot smiled. “Let’s cut the talk, I suppose this summons is about my employment here at the farm? Honestly, my Lady, for a woman with your farm knowledge, I will never understand what criteria you base your hiring practices on

  “I seem to recall I also interviewed you before an offer of employment was extended to you.” Margarita pointed out.

  Bealot looked uncomfortable for only a quick second. “Yes, well I admit I thought I might have had potential. I probably let my charitable instincts get in the way.”

  The Duchess made a small, impatient movement with her head. “Spare me, Bealot. In any event now that you have decided to quit on your own, I have no option but to let you go.”

  “Well,” Bealot said, not bothering to disguise the disdain in her voice. “I’ll scarcely know the difference as some of you consider me hopeless, a complete incompetent.”

  The Duchess managed to keep the anger out of her tone as she said, “It seems you were competent enough to mess up the farm.”

  She shrugged elaborately. “Oh, that…..”

  Margarita suddenly had no stomach for conversation. “What do you want, Bealot?”

  Bealot did not miss the edge of irritation in Margarita’s voice and smiled sweetly. “Well. If you really want to know ….. I want the farm.”

  The Duchess refused to rise to the bait. “Bealot, If I did know your ambitions, I wouldn’t have hired you in the first place. Anyone who is after my throat isn’t enough to be a farm hand.” Not giving her a chance to respond, the Duchess continued, “Now, if you can manage alone for a while, I’ll start Clare on the prescreening process for a new farm hand.”

  Bealot was one of the people who knew how far she could push the Duchess and she learned it the hard way.

  A Nobel Decision

  Meanwhile Sir Fredric was at home in his wheel chair and giving a lot of thought to his marital status, after his fatal accident he was now half a man, he had known. He had paralyzed Margarita along with himself.

  He had rejected psychiatric counseling; no amount of talking would ever change the fact that he was dead from the waist down and would forever be so. It was useless and Fredric had no time for lost causes.

  Sir Fredric slept in his own room, John Bailey always within sound of the call bell, and the Duchess went to bed alone. Alone and lonely. Fredric was unable to bring anything to the marriage. Still unable to give Margarita the sort of relationship she needed….and had a right to.

  He prayed that she would go away on her own. That she would finally accept that there was nothing she could do to save the marriage…there was nothing of the marriage, as they had known it, to save.

  He spun his wheel chair away from the window when he heard the Duchess at the front door. She entered the study, the unspoken question in her eyes… how was his day, what was his mood? Questions she had learned not to ask, knowing full well what the answer would probably be. She looked particula
rly tired this evening and he forced himself to put a light note in his voice, forced himself to behave as though he hadn’t spent the day trying to figure out how to leave her.

  “Well, the lady of the Manor returns. How are things in your world of farm management?”

  Her smile relaxed as she sat opposite him, crossing her long beautiful legs, looking feminine even in her tailored riding suit. “Its days like today that makes me wish I’d paid more attention to my better instincts,” she said wearily.

  “Rough day?”

  “Not any more than usual. Thanks to that wretched woman, Bealot.”

  “Well,” he said lightly, “I could use a drink if you can pour one for me.”

  “I happen to be in need of one myself,” she said, smiling in relief at her husband’s apparent good mood. “Just let me get out of my suit and I’ll be right with you, my dear.” She said planting a kiss on her husband’s cheeks.

  Fredric watched her head for the bedroom and the quick wash she would take. No more long soaks in the tub for Margarita. She wanted nothing they had once shared and could share no longer. It was another way in which she denied herself as much as possible. They were killing one another and it had to stop. The lump that came into his throat threatened to strangle him. He had to find a way to free her….free the two of them. She wouldn’t go on her own; she had said for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, and she meant it.

  Fredric didn’t know how, he wasn’t sure just when, but some way, somehow he would do it. He had to….for both of them.

  An uneventful day passed and Clare Barlow sat at her farm table awaiting the arrival of the Duchess. Clare was always in the farm a half hour before normal work hours. Margarita never arrived before 10 a.m.

  Clare held fort at the farm. She was very good at the job and she truly admired the Duchess, both as a friend and a Lady. But she dreaded what this morning’s message would do to Margarita’s façade of calm serenity.

  The most important message was from The colonel of the Manor House, He had an urgent matter to discuss with the Duchess.

  The colonel. wanted Margarita to come to London and join him to discuss the signing of a new document for the purchase of another large extent of land.

  Margarita always traveled for her elders, making whatever trips were necessary in order to screen potential deals.

  Clare thought that Margarita’s willingness to go the extra mile was the mark of a true professional and she was professional to the core. At least that was how she’d always conducted matters before Fredric’s accident. She hadn’t traveled at all the first year after his fall from the unruly horse.

  Clare certainly had found that understandable. The physical therapy had been extremely painful and Fredric’s adjustment was difficult. But as the second year came and went and the Duchess still found reasons not to leave the Manor. Clare became more and more concerned.

  The Duchess had managed to avoid traveling any more, by using her vast resources and friends in the right places. But signing of the new deal was an important matter. She should not refuse the colonel. Yet Clare knew her mistress would try to find some way not to go.

  Clare felt a mixture of sadness and anger, Fredric’s accident was going to wreck everything for which Margarita had strived so hard, but Clare wasn’t going to let it happen. Even if she risked losing her place in the farm and friend, she was going to convince the Duchess that she had to make this trip.

  Her bell rang. The Duchess had arrived.

  “Morning my Lady.” Clare looked at her carefully. “Ready for the deluge?”

  The Duchess seemed relaxed enough as she glanced at the pile of notes in the maid’s hand. “It’s only a quarter past ten. Could so much happen so early?” Clare nodded and decided to get the bad news over first. “Sir Fredric called this morning. It’s the colonel. He says that the colonel wants you to join him in London, my lady.”

  She saw Margarits’s body stiffen, saw the protective veil descend over her green-flecked eyes.

  “That’s not possible,” Margarita said. “Not with everything that needs my attention here….” She gestured at the sheaf of papers Clare held. “I can’t leave now…. Let me talk to Sir Fredric first.”

  Clare kept her voice soft but firm. “You know you can’t handle this without going to London, my Lady. Sir Fredric’s call wasn’t put as a request….he was leaving for Oxford this morning but he’ll be back in three days. He wants you to see him when he returns and arrange your schedule.”

  There was both surprise and reprieve written on Margarita’s face. Surprise at her maid’s uncompromising attitude and reprieve that she would have three days in which to come up with something. “Yes, well, of course I’ll see him, just as soon as he returns. I’m sure I can work from here. Sir Fredric is a reasonable man.”

  Clare said, “He’s reasonable all right. But what excuse can you give him that he can consider reasonable, my Lady?”

  “Why….the problems I have here. Sir Fredric knows that the colonel Isn’t my only worry.”

  Clare had to push Margarita, “Sir Fredric will be all right. He has his aid full time. I’ll check in on him for you. You have to make this trip.”

  “Sir Fredric? What does Sir Fredric have to do with this?” There was panic in her eyes. “It’s the other problems….I….” She could not continue. There was no anger in her voice and suddenly Clare realized that Margarita probably had not talked to anyone since the accident about the state of her marriage.

  “My Lady,” Clare said softly. “I’ve seen what these past two years have done to you. You can’t continue like this….it isn’t normal, you’re only human. You are going to wind up destroying yourself…..and your vast plantations along with you.”

  The Duchess felt the panic rise…it was all too much. But she couldn’t confide in anyone. It was too hurtful, too personal. She forced a deep breath into her lungs and calm into her voice. “Clare, you’re a wonderful friend, but really this is not something that I can talk about. Not now.”

  Margarita frantically searched her mind for something for Clare to do for her. “I’ve had a headache all morning. Would you hold my callers until I tell you to send them through?”

  “Sure, my Lady.” If the Duchess wanted time alone, she would have it. “Take all the time you need.”

  Sir Fredric sat in his wheelchair, waiting for Camellia to come home. He felt a mixture of panic and relief. This was it. His first chance for an honest confrontation. He hoped he would handle it well. Hoped he could be a man from the waist up, but felt as if someone had poured ice water down his spine when he heard her at the front door.

  He took a deep breath as she entered the room carrying a pitcher of milk and two large silver containers. Her smile was brave, but her face showed the strain of a day he knew had been rough. She looked so very vulnerable. “Busy day?” he asked.

  Margarita sat across from him in the big couch he used to love. “I’ll say it was.”

  He forced a laugh, although the tension in her beautiful eyes caused his throat to ache with sorrow. “That bad, huh?’

  “Not bad, more chaotic.” She smiled. “How about yourself?

  “Actually,” he said, forcing a false note of enthusiasm into his voice. “My cousin, Duke Ainslie, sent a dispatch rider to inform that he would present himself here in a couple of days. As you would be going to London for a week or so.” He informed Margarita. “Good for you, it will give me plenty to do while you’re in London.” There! He’d done it!

  The Duchess turned pale and took a sip of her drink. “London? Who said anything about going to London?”

  Okay, she wasn’t going to face it. He would have to force the issue. “The colonel, for one. Surely he tried to reach you at the farm?” He could see her mind racing.

  “Oh, Ainslie,” she said casually. “Actually, no, he didn’t reach me. I missed his dispatch rider and he’s off to some place. Nothing important, I’m sure,” she hedged. “I didn’t speak with
him; he left a message with Clare.

  “I’m sure he did, Camellia. Probably the same message he left with me.”“

  “With you?” There was fear in her eyes.

  Sir Fredric steeled himself to continue. “Yes, he dropped by a little past nine. He thought he’d catch you before you left since he was leaving on a deer hunt himself.”

  “Yes, well, as I said, I missed him,” she replied, not looking at her husband.

  “So when do you leave, Margarita?” he asked.

  “Leave? She asked hollowly. “I’m not leaving, Fredric. I can’t get away now.”“Oh, yes, you are, Margarita, you answer me. You always traveled for your elders before my accident and you will travel for them now. Why back off now.” He held her eyes. “Are you going to start cheating your elders now? And with Ainslie of all people?”