Courting Kel (22 page)

“No matter our child’s sex, Keleos, I’ll take our baby home.
And you’ll never hear from
us
again!”

“Guanshit blackguard!” she shouted as she slammed the door.

“Liar!” he roared. “You cannot even keep a promise not to
swear!”

Chapter Thirteen

That Afternoon

Kel studied her reflection as Drew finished weaving
realloppas into her shiny hair. “I am still amazed by how the shamwash makes my
hair dry so quickly,” she told the young woman. She had no idea why she’d allowed
this farce of a wedding ceremony to continue, but allow it she would. She owed
it to her people, both here on Home and on Amazonia. For their sakes she would
endure.

Drew grinned. “Tak the shamwash. You are beautiful, Kel.”

“Thanks to your skills, I feel beautiful.”

Sighing, Drew admitted, “I wish my hair were red like yours.
Laurette told me there are dyes on Home that can change its color.”

“Your hair is lovely, Drew.”

“But I look like every other girl on Ondrican. No man will
notice me amidst all the other blondes.”

Be grateful, Drew. A man’s attention brings only
heartache.

“The right man will,” Basalia proclaimed, breezing into
Kel’s dressing room, a gown of ivory silk draped between her arms. Hanging the
gown on the curved door, she cupped Drew’s chin. “Your eyes are turquoise. A
truly remarkable color, child. Run along now. I’ll help Keleos finish
dressing.”

“Tak, Drew. I’ll meet you downstairs in a little while,” Kel
said. She smiled, hoping to ease Drew’s obvious resentment at being dismissed.
“Please see if you can find our bouquets.”

Bobbing a brief curtsy, Drew left.

“A bit high-handed even for you, Basalia.” The scolding
sounded mild, just as she’d intended. If her mother sensed Kel wanted to run
away and hide until Aren went back to Ondrican… Only the Goddess knew what
havoc Basalia might wreak.

“Where were you last night, Keleos? I waited up for you
until after two o’clock.”

“Did you? For a woman without much sleep, you looked
remarkably well rested. Or should I say well mated?”

“That is none of your business.”

Good!
Haughtiness Kel could deal with. “As my
whereabouts last night are none of yours.”

Surprising her, Basalia laughed. “A true queen. At last!”

“Was I that terrible a child?”

“Willful. Overconfident. A bit vain perhaps—for which I
blame myself. I too am vain and since you look like me…” She shrugged then
cupped Kel’s chin. “You did not sleep, Kel. Nerves, or did you and Aren argue?”

“Nerves,” Kel quickly avowed as she removed her mother’s
hand from her face. She desperately wanted to burrow into Basalia’s arms and
bawl like a babe. But she wouldn’t—could not. The argument she’d had with Aren
was between them and only them. If Basalia leaned of it, she’d try to convince
Kel to reconcile with Aren, apologize for her irrational behavior and do as her
husband bade her.

As if Basalia had ever or would ever submit to a man!

“Mother?” Kel said before she could bite her own tongue in
half and render herself incapable of speech.

“Keleos? What troubles you, daughter? Surely you don’t fear
your wedding night.”

“Not that. It is only… By all the gods, I already sound like
Aren!”

“And don’t think to distract me. Something distresses you. I
will
know what.”

“H-how important is this peace with Ondrican?”

Basalia shot her a surprised look. “It means an end to
conflict between our planets. It means safety for all our people.”

“What…?” Kel licked her suddenly dry lips. “What about our
other enemies, Mother? Will peace with Ondrican free us from the threat of
other invaders?”

“Storr… Ondrican will protect us with weapons we can never
hope to build. We lack the resources, both natural and technological.”

“And Storr gains what? If he has such formidable weaponry
why hasn’t he already conquered us?”
There! A logical excuse to seem unsure
,
Kel thought with pride in herself.

Basalia laughed. “Believe it or not, Keleos, Storr respects
our sovereignty. We have waged a personal war for decades, during which he
could have reduced Amazonia to rubble. I believe this treaty—your marriage to
Aren—will ensure survival for both our worlds.” Once more she cupped Kel’s chin
and looked into her eyes. “Having second thoughts, Kel?”

Surprised that her mother had shortened her name, Kel
blinked and leaned her cheek more firmly in Basalia’s hand. “A few doubts.
We…Aren and I will work through them.”

Looking as if she disbelieved her, Basalia kissed Kel’s
forehead. “As for being a terrible child… You were and are exactly what you
need to be. I’m proud of you, Keleos.”

Startled by the tears sparkling in Basalia’s eyes, Kel stood
and wrapped her arms around her mother. “Tak.”

“I wish you’d allowed to your cousin Gracilina to attend
you.” Basalia eased from Kel’s arms.

Knowing Basalia resorted to imperiousness when tender
emotions struck her, Kel simply smiled. “’Lina and I were never close. Drew is
my very special friend.”

“You love her as you would a sister.” Basalia looked
indifferent but her voice resounded with those tender emotions she tried to
mask.

“Yes. Which is why you’ll send her to me on your way to
greeting our guests. No one is better, Mother, at mixing oil and water than
you.”

“Yes. Then you know about the building brouhaha between the
two tribes on this planet.”

“A delegation from Snow greeted us soon after we returned to
Sun.”

“They won’t create a scene today?”

For once Basalia resembled the bride’s mother who wanted
nothing to mar her daughter’s wedding day. Smiling, Kel said, “They vowed they
would not. But tomorrow is a different matter. You see why I’m counting on your
diplomatic skills, Mother.”

Basalia eyed her suspiciously. “Mother, pah! You only
acknowledge our relationship when it suits you.”

“It’s your queenly skills Aren and I require now. Storr’s
bluster may serve on Ondrican but Home’s people owe him no consideration.”

“Sly child. Very clever.” Brushing a kiss on Kel’s cheek,
she swept out.

Drew appeared scant seconds later.

“You must stop eavesdropping, Drew,” Kel gently scolded.

Obviously unrepentant, Drew grinned. “How else am I to
learn? Besides, I changed my gown.” She pirouetted, setting her turquoise overskirt
and ivory petticoats flaring. Even the lace on her sleeves and around her
neckline fluttered as if sharing her delight. “And found our bouquets, Majesty,
just as you commanded.” She held up two bouquets of caills, one with
bell-shaped chiords arranged throughout.

“Tage picked them at Aren’s direction and Laurette arranged
them just for us.”

“We are blessed in our friendships.” Kel inhaled the
fragrances and thought of Aren’s pride in his gardens. Perhaps some of his
flowers would grow on Home. Perhaps they could have a greenhouse built or even
plant…

“If you don’t dress soon, Kel, you may attend your wedding
garbed only in your bouquet, shoes and realloppas. Tage is trying to muscle
Aren to the altar, but your groom is very stubborn.”

As if to lend credence to Drew’s observation, Aren’s
bellowed “Flame” carried up the staircase to Kel’s dressing room.

“It’s my wedding day,” she shouted back. “I’ll not be
harried.”

“It is
my
wedding day as well. You’ll hurry or I’ll—”

The sudden silence fired Kel’s imagination. Had Tage gagged
Aren? Hit him on the head? Killed him? Perhaps the old tales of bride and groom
not seeing each other before the ceremony were more valid than Kel had wanted
to admit.

“Don’t worry, Kel. I sent six footmen to carry your groom
where he belongs,” Drew told her, looking smug at having Aren under her control
for once.

“Clever girl. Help me with my gown, please.”

Drew fetched the gown then held it out to Kel. “Step here,
between these folds. The cloth will form around your body.”

“Not too well I hope. My belly precedes me everywhere. Or so
it seems.”

Laughing, Drew picked up a corner of the heavy cloth and
placed it at Kel’s shoulder. As they watched, the cloth flowed up her body,
creating a shimmering drape over her as it went. A single strand of realloppas
accented the low-cut neckline. A triple band of them circled beneath her
breasts. Her skirt fell in soft folds to her ankles.

“Beautiful,” Kel said.

Placing her bouquet in Kel’s hands, Drew retrieved her own
then guided Kel downstairs.

I will do this. For my people’s sake, I will marry Aren.

* * * * *

Feeling the perfect idiot, Aren stuck his finger between his
neck and the knot Tage had tied. His cousin had grinned evilly when he
fashioned the neckwear. No doubt he’d intended it to feel exactly as it did—a
noose around Aren’s neck. A minute-by-minute reminder of his impending marriage.

He looked down at the rest of his attire. From the brief
glimpse in a full-length mirror Tage had permitted, Aren had seen that his blue
velvet coat sported gold buttons at his back waist and also had split tails.
His trousers hugged his buttocks and thighs and outlined his
personal wealth
in the same manner he prayed Kel’s hands would this night. Golden buckles
gleamed on his spit-shined shoes. Shimmering gold-flecked white hose encased
his feet and calves. Drew had woven them herself and presented them to him as
he finished dressing. His only consolation for his clothing lay in knowing Tage
appeared equally ridiculous in his groomsman finery.

Now it felt as if he’d been standing under Home’s hot sun for
hours. Now it felt as if he would melt into a puddle of sweat or embarrassment
before his bride deigned to appear. Panicked, Aren knew Kel had run away. She
intended to disgrace him before their people. Pay him back for taking her to
The Choosing. Humiliate him because he’d argued with her last night.

He suspected Kel had deliberately picked the fight. But he
admitted he had allowed it to progress. He should have explained to her what
peace would mean to Ondrican and Amazonia…even Home. Especially Home.

All their people would benefit. Ondrican need fear
inbreeding no longer. Amazonia would prosper under Ondrican protection. Home
would retain the peace and prosperity it had known for decades. Decades that
would stretch into centuries, millennia, even eons. If only he could make
Kel—who had known only war all her life…

“I need to see Kel,” he said to Tage.

“Now?” Tage grabbed Aren’s arm. The footmen who’d carried
him to the altar stiffened and showed their teeth. “Besides, it is too late to
call off this ceremony. Look.”

Drew’s brilliant smile reassured him. If her honor maid was
here, Kel would soon appear. Behind his back he crossed his fingers on both
hands and sent a prayer heavenward to all the gods.

As was the custom on Home, Drew took her place across the
aisle from Aren and Tage. Storr escorted Basalia down the wide path edged with
Home’s dignitaries and their own councils. Home’s people stood on tiptoes to
glimpse the handsome older couple. For most, this was their first sight of
their parents’ rulers.

Striking
, Aren admitted, proud of his and Kel’s
parentage. Gods willing, he and Kel would age as gracefully as Basalia and
Storr had. Storr, he noted with amusement, had a boutonniere of tiny seros that
mirrored the buds crowning Basalia’s head. A symbol of peace, perhaps? Or only
a momentary truce? More likely, given their history and fiery temperaments. At
least it seemed they would avoid ruining the day for their children.

At last Kel appeared. She paused in the open doorway,
flanked by two guards from Home dressed in brilliant blue, gold epaulets on
their shoulders, gold braid on the brims of their tall hats. One guard
curtsied, the other bowed.

With all the pride of their homeworlds displayed in their
clothing and attitude, they led Kel to him. Their guests sighed. Aren inhaled a
gulp of air, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

The mere sight of Kel stole his breath. Her low-cut bodice
revealed the tops of her creamy breasts, outlining them as firmly as his hands
would this very night. Gods willing. The high waist and cascading pleats hid
her slightly rounded belly—a belly he would kiss and caress until she guided
him lower and took him into her liquid, heated cunt. The thought made him so hard
he feared everyone present would see how he lusted for his bride. He willed
lust away, returning his gaze to her face.

Had he ever seen a lovelier woman? Not that he could
remember. Had a woman ever looked at him with such love and trust in her eyes?
Those remarkable eyes swirled blues and greens and pale grays, reminding him of
sunrise here on Home. He and Kel would watch it together tomorrow and every
morning for the rest of their lives. And he silently celebrated that she had
forgiven him for arguing with her last night—if she had in fact forgiven him,
he amended, seeing her eyes begin to swirl blacks and dark grays. Remembered
anger or lust just beginning to stir? He had no time to ponder.

As was the custom on Home, Basalia took Aren’s left hand and
held it out, palm up. Storr took Kel’s left hand and placed it, palm down, in
Aren’s. Together they faced the official, their eyes focused on each other.

The official proceeded to marry them in accordance with
every civil and religious ceremony practiced on the entire planet. He’d
apparently memorized them all and droned on so long, Kel’s eyes began to swirl.

“Enough!” Aren whispered the sharp command.

“You may kiss your mate.”

Do I taste relief on Kel’s lips?
he wondered as they
kissed.
Does she taste it on mine?

Their guests cheered long and loud. Together he and Kel
hurried into their enormous gilded receiving room and sank gratefully into
chairs some thoughtful soul had put on the dais. Lifting her hem, Kel toed off
her satin slippers and sighed. Tage and Drew gave them each a goblet.

“Water for now,” Drew told them.