That’s how different Earth and Gaia was. Sarah had mourned the dying tree before the meeting at Xavier Hall, despaired over how so much of Earth had become barren, even to the death of the family, the relationship between men and women. Not only did the Gaians offer her a man guaranteed to be her mate, if she went with him she’d have living things around her all the time. It sounded like a dream come true.
But what about her other dreams...those of a tall dark-haired man with large gentle hands? While still back on Earth, she’d thought her dreams to be a quiet whisper that told her he was out here. Did she believe he was in the Outer Colonies? Maybe. Did she want to press on and find out? Part of her did.
Still, the Gaians had made a good point. The Outer Colonies were primitive places, frontier towns at best. She’d be better off on Gaia, as would the other women.
She’d come to the stars to meet a man who wanted a wife. The Gaians promised her one of their men would meet her needs better than one from the Outer Colonies. She couldn’t also hope he’d be the man in her dreams.
Besides, she was tired of dreams that left her wanting. It was time to wake up and smell the javi.
Sarah nodded slowly and turned to meet their friendly smiles. "Very well. I agree."
Chapter Seven
Garran adjusted his hood and the thin gauze mask that hid his features before slipping into line with the other men slowly moving into the hallway. Behind him, Sammul closed the side-door that Garran had taken into the corridor to avoid notice. As Garran looked back he saw a brief hint of melancholy on his unmarried bodyguard’s face. Sammul had foregone taking his place with the unmarried men, the better to keep Garran safe.
Safe from a bunch of women. Behind his mask Garran rolled his eyes but Symon and Bethan had been most insistent on keeping protection around him at all times. Only the anonymity of the meeting robes plus the guards that would be present gave them confidence enough to allow Garren to attend the meet without one of his bulky shadows.
He made a mental note to see what he could do to ditch the pair once he had Sarah to himself. The last thing a man needed when wooing a woman was another man hanging about.
Some of the other men in the hallway had yet to pull the masking hoods into place, their bright eyes and nervous smiles obvious even in the dim light. One of them jostled Garran’s arm in his eagerness to take his place in line, apologizing immediately. Garran muttered a low voiced acknowledgment, trying to disguise his voice.
It wouldn’t do for it to become common knowledge that the General himself competed with the younger men for a bride. Not that they’d begrudge his presence...but his antipathy to the Earth women was well known and the only way to explain his presence would be to let it slip he’d already attached to one of them. It would be best for everyone to keep that a secret if he failed to win the woman.
Especially if he failed to win the woman.
His stride halted at that uncomfortable thought, before determination took hold. He would win her. He had to, at least initially, Symon and Bethan had been most clear on that. If Sarah capitulated and took his band during the marriage meet, the rest of the women would be sure to follow her lead and accept attachment from the other men.
Of course another man might attach to her. Sarah could chose him and that would have the same result.... Garran’s hand clenched under his cloak. No, that would not happen. Sarah was his, and his alone.
The dark-clothed figures moved into the long corridor leading to the main assembly hall. Early in the construction of The Promise, it had been anticipated that the ship would be used to host marriage meets and so it was designed with that purpose in mind.
The corridor to the meeting room was long and wide enough to accommodate five hundred men standing on either side. The women would pass between them, the proximity close enough to allow attachment but still give a measure of comfort to the passing women.
Every few yards an unrobed guard stood, vigilant against any disturbance. There would be no violence, no fighting. Any man caught attempting violence would be expelled, and forbidden any further contact with the women. That threat was enough to keep the over-anxious in line.
All the men had taken position, stilling into dark-robed figures against the walls, hoods up and concealing masks in place. Garran was well along in the corridor, close to the middle of the route to the meeting room. He glanced at the still men to either side of him, then at the ones across the hall, and remembered his first meet, years ago, when he’d attached to Metta, then the fruitless marriage meets from the last year. The feeling was the same, the anticipation and the agony of waiting to know if a match would be made. Indecision, determination, and hope, especially hope.
This was what Bethan had told him, that the men needed hope, hope of attachment, hope of having a woman to love and cherish. Hope of becoming a couple, something greater than any one man could achieve.
At least he already knew a match existed for him, that a woman had captured his senses. Even now his body tightened at the thought of her and he blessed the tailoring of his baggy pants, which kept his condition from becoming public.
A faint odor reached his nose, musky, arising from the heightened awareness of the men around him. Garran felt a trickle of sweat dampen his undershirt and hoped it wouldn’t offend the woman he hoped to impress. Did Earth women distain honest sweat in a man? Would that be enough to cause rejection?
Garran straightened his shoulders. If they did, too bad. It would just be proof he’d been right all along, and that another solution would have to be found.
The tension in the corridor picked up and became almost a living thing, the musky odor increasing as a result. All heads turned as one to gaze down the hallway, masks hiding their faces, but anxiety in their poses. Garran swallowed and tensed with them, turning with the others, his heart beating as rapidly as the rest. He heard the distant shuffle of feet, small feet belonging to bodies lighter than the average man, moving cautiously through the corridor.
The women were coming.
* * * *
"It smells down there." Even with her face covered by the white gauze mask, Sarah could imagine the look of disgust on Laura’s face as she prepared to enter the hallway.
Apprehensive, Sarah looked down the corridor in front of her. Darkness lurked there, the feel of waiting men imparting heaviness to the air. There was, as Laura had noticed, an odor, but it didn’t bother her in the way the stench of the p-tran had. For some reason the smell enticed her, welcomed her, pooling in her center and turning her concern to excitement.
In spite of that, she hesitated. It had been her decision to go forward with the marriage meet, the other women from The Dove listening and agreeing as well. When time had come to don the white costumes the Gaians had insisted they wear, she’d pulled hers on first, and had taken the front position in line to walk by the men.
Now she was posed to do just that. She gazed down the long corridor before her. Dark robed figures lined the walls as far as she could see, with a man or woman in normal Gaian clothing every few yards. They were there, she’d been told, to insure peace. No one would hurt them, or even touch them unless they allowed it.
All she had to do was walk down the hall between the men waiting quietly. One of them could become her husband, his face hidden for now, his identity unknown until her decision was made. That’s how the Gaians selected their mates, sight unseen, depending on the attachment of a man to a woman and her reaction to him to make the decision. Depending on chemistry.
She’d never liked a man’s touch and even now walking close to so many raised a tendril of fear. Suppose one of them grabbed her...but no, that’s what the guards were for. She would be safe...they all would. That was the promise made, and Gaians kept their promises.
A leap of faith, that. Behind her the other women lingered, expectant of her decision. If she didn’t go in, most likely neither would they.
Bethan stood by the hallway waiting to lead them through, her face show
ing only a hint of the concern Sarah suspected she felt. She waited to for a sign from Sarah to proceed.
It all depended on her.…
Squaring her shoulders, Sarah moved to the entryway and motioned to Bethan, who took the lead, her relief palpable. Together they began the long trek past the line of dark-robed figures.
She thought she could hear the beat of her own heart in the quiet. Only the sound of quiet breathing from the lungs of five hundred men, broke the odd silence in the hall. The dark figures stood tensed against the wall but maintained the space the women needed to pass. No hand reached out to grab her and slowly Sarah’s anxiety faded. It would be her choice to accept any hand offered.
Behind her there was a sound of a man gasping, searching for his breath. Bethan stopped, and the line halted as well. Sarah turned and watched as one of the dark robed figures leaned forward, obviously the origin of the noise. After a moment, he straightened and stepped away from the wall to stand near the woman closest to him. One of the men near him clapped him gently on the shoulder and the rest seemed to nod in congratulations as well.
The woman, an anonymous figure in her white robe, seemed poised to jump away until he stopped without touching her. Instead, he waited a respectful distance. For a moment the pair seem to judge each other, then he held out his hand. Sarah could feel the woman’s hesitation before she placed her hand in his.
Along the corridor, the dark figures leaned toward each other and a soft whisper fled down the hallway, the news spreading rapidly. A man had attached.
Bethan tapped her shoulder and Sarah turned to see a smile on her face. Nodding, she led the way forward again, this time slower.
Within moments, the sharp sounding gasp of breath happened again, but this time Bethan didn’t stop and the man had to recover and move quickly to catch up to the white robed woman he’d attached to. Sarah glanced over her shoulder, to see him offer his hand to the moving woman and her take it, no hesitation this time.
The women knew what to expect now and weren’t as concerned as they had been. The men stood expectant but Sarah felt less anxiety coming from the dark robed figures now that a few of them had attached. Perhaps they’d been worried it wouldn’t happen, and that they’d have kidnapped the Earthwomen in vain.
Now it was clear attachment was possible, and each waited for it to happen to them.
Along the corridor, the sharp gasp and heavy breathing of initial attachment became a commonplace sound and soon the line was filled with the heavier footfalls of men walking with the women they’d matched.
No one walked with Sarah. She began listening for the sound of attachment near her, waiting for it, her own breath catching in her throat in anticipation. They were nearly halfway to the assembly room, where the newly attached couples could sit together and speak quietly.
It didn’t happen the way she expected. He made no noise, didn’t seem affected by her coming close to him at all. The tall brown robed man simply straightened as she came by and stepped away from the wall to fall into step with her without any problem with in catching his breath. They walked several paces down the hall before she realized he was holding his hand out to her.
She kept her hand by her side, continuing to follow Bethan down the hallway. He didn’t withdraw but walked with her, his hand stretched out to her. They continued that way for several paces, until she finally surrendered and placed her hand in his.
Sarah waited for the inevitable surge of nausea a man’s touch usually provoked, and was surprised when it didn’t happen. His hand was huge, hers small in his gentle grip, and the warmth of it spread up her arm, a tingling sensation that soon covered her body. Caught in the spell of his touch, she barely registered when they reached the meeting room and he led her to a cushioned couch several yards from the doorway.
* * * *
She was so small, so delicate to the touch. Her hand felt like that of a child’s...although it had hit him hard enough, he remembered, a wry grin hidden behind his gauze mask.
Then she’d been angry and decisive, seeking control of the situation, if not her temper. Now there was softness to her hand, and an uncertainty in her that he could read even without seeing her face. He held her hand and she enjoyed it, he could feel her reaction--even if she didn’t seem sure about it. He directed her to the couch and took the seat next to her, close enough to feel the heat from her thigh but not enough to touch it. Not yet.
Win her to his side…that was the goal of this first meeting. Hold her hand, talk softly to her, and make her want more of both. Only once before had he done this and for the first time he questioned how he’d been able to accomplish it. This was an Earth woman and no doubt she had plenty of experience being sweet-talked by a man. What could he say that she’d never heard before?
No innocent, his fiery Earth-born woman. He knew about Earth and their ways. She’d probably had her first lover before leaving her teens. But there was something ingenuous about her now, the way she trembled as he captured both her hands and raised them to kiss them gently through his mask. If she’d been born Gaian, she couldn’t have behaved more like an unschooled girl, and he couldn’t be more charmed by the air of sweetness about her.
He would have to fight it, not be taken in. No woman raised on Earth would remain untouched by the corruption there. She breathed out, and her scent captured him again, his body aching in reaction.
"Are you sure you attached to me?" Uncertainty colored her voice and he realized what she meant. He hadn’t made any of the characteristic sounds a man made during initial attachment and she was clever enough to notice. For a moment he considered pulling her hand to his crotch to show her just how attached he was, the thought of her touch making him even harder.
No, even a non-innocent Earther would be offended by that blatant an action. He laughed quietly. "You are my match, not to worry. I’m just quieter about it, I suppose."
"Oh." Her head bent as she seemed to study his hands clasping hers. She stretched out her fingers to compare them to his, the length of his half again as long. "You have large hands."
"I’m a big man. Big hands go with it."
She could measure the height and breath of him for herself. His commenting on them wasn’t needed. By comparison, her white clothed figure seemed tiny.
"I don’t mind your touch." Puzzlement was in her voice.
"I don’t mind yours, either." He put her hands on his shoulders, directed them to slide across his chest to his waist. "I like the feel of your hands, Earth woman."
She pulled her hands from him. "Is that what you intend to call me?"
Amusement at her reaction made him tease her. "Perhaps--until I know your name--and that’s not for a day, yet. Until we agree this is what we want and exchange bands."
"I see. You don’t sound like you have much love for Earth."
She’d heard the harshness in his voice. He’d have to watch that. Garran touched her face beneath the mask, using the back of his hand to feel the contours of her cheek. "That won’t stop me from having love for one of its women. I attached to you.… I can love you."
"Is that what this is, love? A physical reaction to my smell, and you’re in love?" she scoffed.
"It’s more than just your smell." It was a lot more than that, but he couldn’t tell her he liked the moss-green color of her eyes and had imagined a child with her wild red hair. He also couldn’t say that he’d watched her with the other women and admired her spirit, that there was something in her that made her worthy to be his bride.
He wasn’t supposed to know who she was, or what she looked like.
"Is it?" She didn’t sound so sure. "Hard to believe that two people can create a relationship based on no more than this." Her hand took in the room and the robed figures sitting together.
Irritation flashed at her criticism. "It’s what we’ve done for many generations now, chosen our mates this way. It worked for my parents, and their parents. We don’t have divorce or unmarried people."
"I’ll show you, then. What do you think about me?"
"I don’t know what to think."
"Then what do you know?"
She paused, considering. "I know you are tall, with big shoulders. You have a deep voice, a nice voice. Something about it is familiar.…"
"What else?" Garran broke in quickly. If she remembered where she’d heard his voice, she might recognize who he was.
A soft laugh escaped her. "You have big hands and are gentle with them. I’ve dreamed of such a man."
His breath caught in his throat. "Dreams? About what?"
"Nothing really," she said quickly.
Some emotion colored her voice. Embarrassment? Interesting. "Perhaps I should tell you what I know about you."
Another soft laugh and she folded her hands in her lap. "So tell me."
He grabbed her hands and pulled them to his face, feeling the palm and fingers carefully. "I know you have soft hands, but that you’ve worked with them. There is strength in your fingers and calluses that comes from use. I know your smell is that of sweetness, that you like cleanliness, you are most likely an orderly person."
Garran touched her shoulders under the gown, then ran his hands lightly down to her waist, keeping his touch light. "You are small, but have the size of a woman, particularly here." His hands moved to her hips and molded around them. "Definitely a woman," he told her.
He gave her waist the lightest of caresses before releasing her. "I know you are strong willed and that you question everything. You ask questions when others merely experience. That’s what we are intended to do now, you know. Experience."
"Experience what?"
"What it is to be a couple. When it comes down to it, two people alone in the dark is what it’s all about. How we relate to each other without sight, by touch, that’s what makes a Gaian couple."
"I’m not Gaian."
No, she wasn’t. "If you were, we wouldn’t be talking like this. But if you join with me, you will be."
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