Courting Kel (10 page)

“Good morning,” he greeted when she finished. The waterfall
ceased. He flicked his fingers and a towel floated across the room. Drying off,
he continued. “We’ve been invited to linner at Laurette’s.”

“It’s even later than I thought. And what is
linner
?”

“A meal served between midday and nightfall.” With that bit
of enlightenment, he strode from the room.

He truly does have a nice ass.
“Hey, how do I turn on
the waterfall?”

One of the words had the right magic. Water streamed from
the wall once more. To Kel’s delight, it held the scent of caills. As did the
shamwash and soap.

“Off. How do I turn it…? Off?” The waterfall stopped. “Neat
trick!”

When she returned to her room, she found the swirl of
blue-green and red-gold material Aren had given her before they left Storr
City.
So, a formal meal
, she thought, fastening her hair at her nape
with the blue-green scarf. The gown slid over her body, recalling Aren’s hands.
Like the snow blanket yesterday, the fabric hugged her torso but left her arms
bare. It also seemed to change color with more blues and greens than reds.
Wider touches of gold than she remembered from when he’d given the gown to her
ran through the fabric, lending it a festive appearance.

Satisfied her hair and clothes would not embarrass Aren, she
rubbed her stomach, feeling nauseous. She had no idea how to behave amongst
strangers. It seemed obvious Laurette’s father would eat with them. Would other
males join them at linner? How many and how old? Would they expect her to talk
with them?

On Amazonia, when the men dined with the women at a feast,
they served the women, then they went to sit with each other. Part of the
group, yet apart from their mistresses. Although Kel knew little of dining
customs on Ondrican, she surmised men and women ate at the same table—as she
and Aren had with Storr.

“Come along, Kel,” Aren called.

Gathering her courage, she went in search of Aren.

And found him outside, holding the reins of an enormous gray
horse. Since it wore a saddle, Kel realized Aren did not intend to mate with
her on this ride. Along with relief a curious disappointment pinged in her
heart.

Aren held out his hand. “Have you ridden double, Kel?”

“Only on Peg.”

“This is not so very different.” He mounted then reached
down for her. As if she weighed no more than a feather, he lifted her and
helped her settle in front of him. He urged the horse forward.

His arms around her, his chest against her back, his legs rubbing
hers made her wish they were naked. That their ride would lead to the bare
mating he had promised her. His cock hardening against her buttocks increased
her longing.

“Are you comfortable?” he murmured in her ear.

“Y-yes,” she lied, desire rampaging through her body. She
wanted him to release the reins and cup her breasts. She wanted him to hike her
skirts and plunge his fingers inside her, their rhythm matching the quick trot
of his mount’s hooves. She wanted…so many things she could not have.

She needed the release tears could bring. She willed them
away, refusing to shame either of them by arriving at his friends’ home with
red eyes. With her cheeks stained with tears.

“If the weather holds, we’ll come this way tomorrow.”

Glad for the distraction, she said, “What for?”

“Must everything have a purpose, Kel? Can we not ride simply
because it pleases us?”

“I’ve never had that luxury. When I ride, I patrol.” Even to
her she sounded resentful about her duties on Amazonia.
This guanshit world
of Aren’s is dividing my loyalties. I’m getting too comfortable.

“Another first. I’ll bring a book and read to you.”

She glanced back and saw him smile. He seemed pleased by the
idea of firsts. Although reading to her was something Basalia had done when Kel
was a child, a man had never read to her. Neither had she ever ridden for the
simple joy of the wind in her hair, the blue sky above, or the scent of
wildflowers in the meadows surrounding her path. With a brook burbling in the
distance.

They rode in companionable silence. Used to patrolling
alone, Kel welcomed the quiet. It allowed her to listen to the land. It had its
own kind of music. Wind caressing leaves high above. Fledgling birds chirping
for their linner. Other birds scolding when strangers approached their nests.
Squirrels and chipmunks chattering as if sharing news or the location of some
tasty treat.

Laughing at the course her thoughts had taken, Kel said, “I
think I must be hungry. Every sound seems about wanting food.”

“Including my stomach’s growls. We’re almost there, Flame. I
smell wood smoke and something roasting.”

Sniffing, Kel nodded. Her stomach lurched, leaving her to
wonder if hunger or trepidation held sway.

Too late now.

Drew and another fair-haired girl sprang at them from
overhead. A half-dozen lads raced from the trees, laughing and shouting and
whooping like warriors about to capture invaders. Kel instinctively reached for
her nonexistent dagger just as Aren’s horse bolted.

“Guanshit,” Aren swore mildly, quickly controlling his
horse. “I’d forgotten the boys are out of school.”

Kel gulped, resisting the urge to pat her heart and soothe
it to its normal beat. “H-how many children do your friends have?”

“Just one of their own—Laurette. They foster… You’ll see for
yourself soon enough.”

Chapter Seven

“Stop that noise!” a female voice demanded. Silence
descended as the boys circled Aren’s horse. The tallest—dark-haired with the
look of Aren on his face—took the reins Aren tossed to him.

Dismounting, Aren reached up for Kel. Ignoring him, she slid
to the ground, barely managing to hold her tongue. All the boys seem miniature
versions of Aren. Although, to give Aren his due, they might not be his sons.
He was, after all, bringing up Drew as if she were his own and she looked
nothing like him.

“Welcome,” a petite, green-eyed blonde greeted, nodding at
Aren while holding out her hands to Kel.

“Jocelyn, meet Kel. Kel, Jocelyn.”

Flummoxed by the warm greeting, Kel returned her hostess’s
hug. On Amazonia handshakes or nods were the norm—caution so ingrained that
even women greeting women for the first time kept an eye out for signs of
danger. As a diversion to answering her unspoken questions it worked but Aren
still owed her some explanation for the boys’ coloring.

As if reading her mind, he whispered, “I’ll explain later.”

“No guanshit,” she murmured as Jocelyn led them around the
massive wood and stone structure Kel assumed was Jocelyn’s home. She could hear
the boys arguing about who would tend to Aren’s horse and who would bring food
from inside the house. That was a familiar discussion. Amazonian captives often
had the same small wars about “men’s work” versus “women’s chores”.

As they entered a roofless area with smooth, level stones
its floor, Kel halted mid-stride. She thought Aren and Storr the tallest men
she’d ever seen, but the man turning toward her from his spit dwarfed even
Aren.

He seemed to take Kel’s measure with the same intensity she
took his. On her homeworld such scrutiny occurred only when choosing a male for
mating. Here it seemed ogling was the norm.

Jutting her chin, Kel met his stern gray eyes and saw them
brighten a heartbeat before he smiled. The smile made him look like an enormous
cherub.

“You chose well, lad,” he said to Aren and sticking out both
hands to Kel.

Laughing, Aren warned, “Don’t crush her, Caton.”

Aren introduced her to his giant friend. The two men
retreated to the enormous freestanding spit. Jocelyn led Kel to a large round
table where Drew and the girl she’d seen earlier with the boys set out knives
and plates. Laurette, Kel assumed.

“Aren seems happy,” Jocelyn said with a small smile in his
direction.

“He is usually amiable.”

“That’s a strange description from a bride.”

“We are not—” Disclaiming they were married would lead to
questions better left unasked. Kel said, “We are not well acquainted.”

“Then it is good he’s brought you to the country. You’ll
have solitude in which to learn about each other.” Motioning Kel to a chair
large enough for two, Jocelyn sat.

Giggling for no apparent reason, Drew and her friend drifted
away.

“Don’t go far. We’ll eat soon,” Jocelyn called to them.

“Aren has explained how men and women divide their work. I
understand Caton cooks and tends to your children.”

“And you wonder what I do.”

“Yes. If I’m too nosy or you’d rather—”

“I don’t mind telling you. I raise sheep and weave their
wool. The gown you’re wearing came from a consignment shop in Storr City.”

“But this material feels like silk—not that I’ve ever worn
silk. Books describe it as if it feels exactly like this. Smooth and weightless.”

“You do wonderful things for its colors.”

Blushing at the compliment, Kel smiled. “Aren…Aren selected
it.”

“When he described you, I knew it would suit.”

“D-described me? When? How, when you live so far—?”

“Linner,” Caton shouted, effectively cutting off Kel’s
questions.

Damn!
If Aren could communicate with Jocelyn, perhaps
Kel could reach someone who could contact Basalia and have Kel rescued. Someone
with a spacecraft had taken her off Amazonia and someone—by all the gods!—could
damn well take her back. Her wishful thoughts faded under the boys’ racket as
they placed bowls of aromatic foodstuffs in the center of the table. As if
programmed, they held up their hands for Jocelyn’s inspection then repeated the
ritual for Caton.

“I hope you like meat,” Caton said, setting a plank of
succulent pink meat in front of his wife.

Aren grinned at Kel as if remembering how he’d introduced
her to the delicacy. She felt her face heat and looked away.

“Yes I do,” she said softly, trying to ignore Aren’s warmth as
he settled in the chair alongside her. Under the table, he rubbed his thigh
against hers. “Stop it!”

“Let Kel eat in peace,” Jocelyn commanded, placing small
portions of food on a small plate before passing it on.

Kel followed the plate to Caton who sat with the boy of
three or four on his lap.

“Cut, Papa?”

“When everyone is served, Storrsix.”

As plates progressed around the table, Kel discovered the
four older boys were named Storrrfive through Storrtwo. The oldest boy took his
plate then announced, “I have chosen my name. Henceforth you may call me
Erland.”

Even on her world, names had meaning. Knowing
Erland
meant
“leader”, Kel thought the name fit him like a glove.

Aren explained. “On Ondrican sons bear their father’s name
until their thirteenth season. Then they may select a name they like.” Turning
to the lad he asked, “Why that name, Erland?”

“I am tired of sitting at the back of my classrooms. Now I
shall sit at the front.”

“Where Erland can better claim the attention of his young
and very pretty teachers,” Caton said, chuckling.

“If your grades suffer, Erland,” Jocelyn warned, “you will
choose a name that begins with zed. Now, Storrtwo, tell us about your day.”

As they ate, each boy acknowledged Erland’s new name before
regaling the party with his deeds of daring. The process reminded Kel of
stories she’d read that involved heroes larger than life. No one took the tales
seriously. In truth, they seem more like entertainment—intended to make
everyone laugh while still teaching lessons about survival and such.

Storrsix announced he’d caught a frog.

“What did you do with it?” Caton asked, ruffling the boy’s
dark hair.

“I put it on a lily pad with its friend.” Storrsix’s chin
trembled. “I shoulda kept it ‘cause its friend eated him.”

Kel wanted to take the boy in her arms and comfort him.
Then, with everyone else laughing, she realized the youngest Storr had told the
funniest tale.

Laurette told her own tale. Then she and Drew produced a bundle
of wool. It seemed to Kel the girls had serious work. Rather than playing—an
activity seemingly reserved for all males regardless of age—they’d created a
cloth of shimmering gold.

“Oh my!” Kel said. “It looks like spun glass.”

“Softer,” Jocelyn approved, passing the material to Kel.
“Closer to fluffy clouds. Take it, Kel. It is a wedding present from us all.”

Tears welled. Swiping them away, Kel took the delicate
fabric from Jocelyn’s hands. Her gaze focused on Drew and Laurette, she said,
“Tak,” then fled.

Aren started after her.

“Let her go,” Caton advised.

Jocelyn added, “She doesn’t—”

“Want to be married,” Aren blurted.

At some unseen gesture, all the children left the table,
Erland with Storrsix in his arms.

Aren sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands.
At last he muttered, “I thought—I prayed that tonight would show her the
happiness a family brings.”

Jocelyn snorted. “With all our boys looking like Storr? Like
you?”

“They don’t look like me.”

Caton cleared his throat. Aren scowled at him.

“It is obvious Kel thought them yours. Even after you explained
our naming customs, she doubted.”

“I’ll make her believe me.”

“How?” Caton challenged.

“I’ll tell her again and again until she believes. Not that
it does any good to tell her anything. Stubborn beyond words.”

“That should work,” Jocelyn scoffed.

“What should I do? Take her back to Storr City and force my
father to admit he’s ignoring my brothers? Kel already despises Tage for not
claiming Drew. Despises me for letting Drew believe I’m her father.”

He started to look away but caught the glance his friends
exchanged. “You told her,” he accused, feeling too weary for righteous anger.

“Drew is an intelligent young woman,” Caton said cautiously,
as if he feared awakening Aren’s rage.

“Observant as well. Were she ignorant of our naming customs
she could still see she resembles Tage more than she resembles any Storr. Or
you.”

“Perhaps Kel and I should avoid the subject of Drew’s and
the boys’ parentage completely?”

His friends shrugged but he knew they preferred discussing
differences of opinion. Even if they ended in shouting matches. “What if Kel
brings it up?”

“Answer her questions,” Jocelyn advised.

“And hang on to your temper,” Caton added.

“If she’ll let me.” Aren sighed. “Do either of you know how
long an Amazonian woman’s menses last?”

Jocelyn’s growl drew Aren’s attention to her face. “What?”
he demanded.

“Before you start a family, Kel must accept your marriage.”

Aren folded his arms over his chest. Leaning back in his
chair, he said, “If she is pregnant she’ll have to acknowledge our union.”

Caton and Jocelyn snorted.

“And that approach is working, is it?” Caton asked.

“Not— Not very well.” Aren raked his hair with both hands.
“She enjoys what we do to each other, but she won’t fuck.” Shooting a warning
glare at his friends not to pursue the subject, he admitted to himself Kel
didn’t mind the fucking but seemed to hate the idea of marriage.

“Because she knows mating leads to pregnancy,” Jocelyn said,
sounding less judgmental. “And pregnancy would force her to admit you are
married.”

Aren nodded, disliking Jocelyn’s rationale, but admitting
she made sense.

“You need to court her, lad,” Caton advised.

“I am courting her!”

“How?” Jocelyn challenged. “By making her observe others
having sex? By reading her pornography?”

Feeling his face heat, Aren nodded.

“Arousing her body,” Caton said, “while leaving her heart
untouched. In your defense, Aren, it’s the approach we’re taught from puberty
onward. Capture her body and her heart will follow.”

“Which is backwards,” Jocelyn added, twining her fingers
with Caton’s.

“And requires more than pretty words or extravagant gifts
like that gown Kel’s wearing tonight.” Caton added his opinion to the ideas boiling
in Aren’s mind.

“How do I win her?” Aren sounded as desperate as he felt.

“You’ll figure it out, lad.”

Gods willing
, Aren thought, wondering where to begin.

* * * * *

Swiping at tears she could not stop, Kel tried to find
Aren’s horse. Since Aren and Drew were such good friends with Jocelyn and
Caton, Kel reasoned his horse would know its way home.

Another reason to get off Ondrican. My warrior skills are
waning. Soon I’ll grow so content…
“No! I won’t let that happen.” she vowed
to the darkening sky. To the two moons now visible—one brightening, the other
fading. She tried to remember how long each moon was visible from the country.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said to herself. “I won’t be here long
enough to see them all anyway.”

“Don’t you like us, Kel?”

Whirling toward Drew’s voice, Kel reached for her dagger—the
one she had yet to demand Aren replace for her.
Guanshit!
She’d become
so careless she hadn’t even heard Drew approach.

“I like
you
just fine.” Even to herself she sounded
sulky. And rude.

“But you don’t like Erland or Laurette or the Storrs or
Jocelyn and Caton?”

“They seem like very nice people.”

Drew stayed silent so long, Kel expected she would say
nothing more. She paced away, stopping when the girl sobbed.

“It isn’t our fault our fathers don’t want us.”

Kel’s heart clenched as if cruelly squeezed. “Oh Drew.
Sweeting.” Gathering the girl against her, Kel led her to a nearby boulder and
sat with her arms about her. “I know this will seem like excuses but…from what
I’ve learned about your father, he must love you very much.”

“Th-then why does he leave me with Aren?”

“A spaceship is no place for…young women.”

“Children, you mean. I’m not a child anymore, Kel. I have
what you have now. I mean, I have breasts and hips but I can’t show off like
you can. Instead, my clothes are so loose they make me look like a sack.”

“Probably best for now. Aren still thinks of you as…younger
than you are.” Kel squelched the urge to tug her neckline higher to hide her
own breasts.

Drew nodded. “I know Tage cares for me. He always visits
when he’s in Storr City and he brings me gifts. Gifts for little girls!”

Kel squelched a laugh, saying, “Does Aren allow young men to
see you?”

A tremulous sigh preceded, “Only here. I know that
Erland—all the Storrs—are forbidden. We are related in some way I don’t
understand.”

Kel could probably figure it out but realized Drew needed
comfort more than a family tree. Right now she needed someone to talk to.

“Kel?”

“Mmm?”

“Do you like Aren?”

Like?
If she could separate lust from the myriad
emotions Aren aroused in her, she might come to like him. Seeing him, living
with him in this milieu, he seemed different. More tolerant of her opinions and
moods. More…playful. She liked play, she realized, but since play could easily
lead to lust… Kel recognized she liked cuddling with him, more than liked his
kisses, liked hearing him laugh.

“I suppose,” Kel admitted reluctantly. “Is
like
important?”