* * * *
Sarah took her place with the others, her white hooded gown covering her head to toe. Part of group one, she was herded into the corner of the room nearest the main door, groups two to four taking the other corners, group five placed in the center. The noise level in the room rose as the women took their spots, quieting only when the main doors opened and the men came in.
One tall, thin man rushed into the room and headed for their group, almost stumbling on his robe in his rush. Sarah watched as he cast about wildly then jerked forward to stand in front of the white figure she knew was Laura.
He held up his band and showed her the symbol. "My name is Parras Olmas."
"I’m Laura...Laura Thomas," Sarah heard her friend’s soft voice answer.
He reached over and pulled up her mask, then allowed her to do the same to him. Sarah watched as the pair gazed into each other’s face, the look of wonder and joy that followed. Parras reached one hand forward and gently stroked Laura’s cheek.
"My wife," he whispered.
Her gaze fixed to him, Laura allowed herself to be lead away without single backward glance.
In the meantime the rest of the men had entered and searched the hooded women for their wife. Using their innate attachment sense, they seemed able to identify their ladies with surprising speed, narrowing in on that one special woman in spite of the concealing hoods.
Sarah watched for her husband, assuming he shouldn’t be too hard to spot, his bigger build making him easy to identify amongst the others. In spite of that she didn’t see him, and soon, well over half the couples were gone from the room heading for the banquet hall. A thread of worry attacked Sarah, wondering what could be wrong, why he wouldn’t be there.
He’d been late for their second meeting, too. Perhaps she didn’t mean that much to him. Perhaps their marriage was a sham. Perhaps, perhaps…. Nervousness made her imagine the worse.
Her fears fled when a familiar figure dressed in the characteristic brown robe strode toward her, his speed and accuracy a relief until she realized that she was the only woman left in her group.
She stared as he stopped before her. "You’re late...again."
He seemed taken aback. "I didn’t realize you were keeping count. I’m sorry, it isn’t because I don’t want to be here." He reached for her hand with the band, pulled it up to examine the symbol, his hand stroking hers gently. "I’m glad to see you, wife."
His contrite tone made her laugh. "I’m glad to see you as well, husband."
"You remember your promise. To do as I ask?"
Curiosity assailing her, Sarah spoke. "I remember."
"Very well then. I want you to tell me your name and I’ll unveil you, then you unveil me and I’ll tell you my name. Then we’ll leave, but I don’t want you to say anything until we’re alone."
That wasn’t how the others had done it and Sarah couldn’t understand why he wanted to change what seemed to be a common ritual. But she’d made a promise. Sarah nodded. "I agree."
That meant she went first. He waited while she collected herself. "My name is Sarah Johnson."
She waited while his hands found the bottom of her veil and lifted it, pulling the hood back as well. His appreciative gasp warmed her to the core.
"You are...most beautiful, my wife. Sarah, I mean." He touched her hair and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. Sarah found herself leaning into his hand.
Now it was his turn. "You want me to pull off your hood and then you’ll say your name?"
He stiffened and gave a brief nod. Smiling in anticipation, Sarah reached for the bottom edge of the mask and pulled it up, then over his head, taking the hood with it. It fell back, revealing his face, hair slightly disheveled and his cheeks flushed.
Sarah stared. He was handsome, this husband of hers, very handsome. The long silky hair she’d felt was as she’d hoped dark brown, and his skin pale as if it had rarely seen the sun. Deep blue eyes with an anxious look gazed longingly at her over the long patrician nose and firm jaw her fingers had touched.
She smiled at him and some of the anxiousness left his face. He opened his mouth then closed it, and Sarah realized he’d yet to say his name.
"So what do I call you, husband?" she said to encourage him.
The anxiousness returned, followed by resignation. He took a deep breath. "My name is Garran. Garran Doranth."
It took a moment for her to recognize the name. She’d so often heard him referred to as just the General or by his nickname, the Gaian Beast.
Her first reaction was shock, then loss. Where was the man whose touch she’d learned to appreciate, whose voice had thrilled her to the core? Instead he was her worse nightmare, her enemy. Anger warred with tears as she gazed at him.
He seemed to know when she made the connection. His mouth grew thin and his jaw set, but worst of all was his eyes. When he knew she’d recognized him, the hope in them died.
Sarah might have felt sorry for him if she hadn’t been so angry. As it was, it was all she could do to fulfill her promise, holding her tongue as he led her through a side door the other couples hadn’t taken, the bodyguard she’d noticed during their last meeting falling into place behind them.
* * * *
Other eyes watched them leave the room.
GONE AGAIN! Second time loss of opportunity to search, attack, destroy lost,…. second time! The creature seethed with frustration. Shouldn’t take more than once, should search, attack, destroy on sight, but now seen twice and missed twice, could have finished already…. but failed!
Furious, IT watched its target leave with the woman, a bigger man in tow. Probably meant to be protection...protection from me. Evil laughter greeted that thought. As if one man, even one as large as that one would be protection enough from IT!
It was the female’s fault. Stupid female, stupid to choose that man, choose IT’s target. She’d interfered the first time, struck him, drove the target from the room before IT could act, before IT could search, attack, destroy. And now she’d done it again, gotten in the way, caused IT’s target to leave. And he’d taken her with him. She would likely interfere again.
The doors closed solidly behind the three. IT couldn’t follow, not now.
Must maintain cover. Must. Regret at that, didn’t want to go back under. It was good to be out. But there was no choice. Another opportunity must be found, another time to find the target, to search, to attack, to destroy. Must retreat, let host take over.
"Mary...are you all right?"
Concerned man standing next to IT. Concerned voice in ear, concerned hands on shoulders. Evil glee. Could rip concerned heart out.
Unwelcome dismay from host. Confusion in IT--host stronger than was. How possible? Host weak, host was always weak, no will, that’s why host. But now... host care for concerned man, didn’t want hurt--didn’t want IT to hurt man.
The creature mulled that over.
Better to retreat. Find target and search, attack, destroy later. Let host care for concerned man, for now.
Mary blinked and smiled into her new husband’s face. "Oh, Karra, I’m fine." She gave a shaky laugh. "I guess I just need something to eat."
With a besotted smile Karra took his wife’s arm and led her to the banquet hall.
Chapter Thirteen
They moved down the unfamiliar corridor at high speed, the General’s arm around her like a vise, directing Sarah around corners and through connecting passages. Hot on their heels was the big man she’d noticed before, now obviously a bodyguard. When Sarah looked back at him, she could see him watching the way in front of them for signs of danger, his gaze scanning every doorway and side passage.
She also noticed that his gaze landed on her more than once with that same searching stare. Apparently she too was considered a threat.
They arrived at a doorway, somewhat wider than the others but otherwise not distinguishable from the other doors. The bodyguard tapped in a code on the adjacent keypad, and the door
slid open.
In the instant they were inside, the door closed behind them and at last Garran released her and Sarah stepped away. Folding her arms, she watched as the bodyguard made a swift search of the rooms then reported back. "All clear, Garran."
"Thanks, Maxxa." He shot a tentative glance at Sarah and she responded by tightening her mouth and narrowing her eyes. He took a deep breath. "Maybe you better give us some time. Alone."
The bulky man looked uncertain, eyeing Sarah with apprehension. "I’m not supposed to.…"
Sarah’s temper fired. Promise of silence be damned, she wasn’t going to let pass the bodyguard’s suggestion that she was a threat. "It’s all right," she said dryly. "I promise I won’t lay a hand on him."
Garran’s lips tightened while Maxxa seemed to suppress a smile. "Just go.… I want to be alone with my wife."
They stood in silence once the big man left the room. The General undid his robe and hung it on a hook near the door then reached to take Sarah’s from her. She slipped away before he could touch her but undid the robe and handed it to him.
A flash of pain crossed his face. "I’m not going to hurt you, Sarah," he said as he hung it up.
Too late, Sarah thought. She was hurt. She’d given her heart to him...only to find he wasn’t who she’d thought he was. She’d thought that she’d finally found someone to build a life with, a man to love her, a man to have children with. She’d thought him someone she could love.
Instead he was the one Gaian she’d sworn to hate.
And he knew that, too. From their first meeting when she’d lost her temper and struck him.…
Another thought ripped through and filled her with dread. "General, is this some sort of revenge?"
He honestly looked puzzled. "Revenge? For what?"
"For that slap I gave you. Is this how you intend to repay me, instead of having me arrested?"
The dark shaggy eyebrows she’d felt yesterday with her fingers lowered into a glower. "I never really thought of marriage to me as being a kind of punishment," he growled. "That’s pretty insulting, don’t you think?"
"Maybe...but what else can I think? You knew when we met that I disliked you. Why go through this charade? Why ask me to be your wife?"
"I attached to you Sarah, that’s why I asked you to be my wife."
Another thought, even worse occurred to her. Suppose that too was a sham. He hadn’t held her close enough to tell...when they’d been alone he’d avoided making love--maybe he couldn’t. "Did you, really?"
Again he looked puzzled. "Did I what?"
"Attach to me. I’ve seen no evidence of it, I didn’t hear you do it and we didn’t make love. Maybe you’re faking it."
He blinked once, twice, then a hard frown covered his mouth. He crossed the distance between them, and pulled her into his arms, tight. Fear leapt through her as he grabbed her buttocks and forced their bodies together. "What do you think, Sarah?"
Too startled to struggle, Sarah allowed him to hold her, then realized what was pressed tight against her.
Well so much for not having hard evidence, she thought sardonically. He was hard, all right. Even with her inexperience Sarah could recognize an arousal when she felt it and this one was impressive. The thought of that rigid length probing her depths caused her momentarily to lose focus and she had to force herself not to rub against the intriguing lump of male flesh throbbing against her belly.
His harsh voice brought her to her senses. "I hate to spoil your misconceptions about me, but I’m not this good an actor." She looked up to see the intense look in his eyes. Intensely angry? Or just--intense?
She pulled away and he allowed it, dropping his arms. "I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I couldn’t let you think I didn’t want you."
"So I was wrong. But I didn’t hear it in the hallway."
"No, because I was already attached. From the first time I saw you, in the assembly hall."
Sarah stared at him. "When I slapped you?"
"I doubt that had anything to do with it...I hope, anyway." He rubbed his cheek, a rueful grin on his face. "I’d hate to think that would become a trend. But I’m sure I got a good whiff of you at the time and that was enough. You’re a match for me. Even if I hadn’t been attached already, it would have happened in the hallway. If I’d been there."
Sarah caught the last remark and frowned. "Why wouldn’t you have been there?"
Hands on hips, he gave an awkward laugh. "Because I didn’t want a Earther wife, that’s why." His stare returned to her and ran up and down, taking in her claiming garment and the crown of braided hair on her head, shaking his head in admiration.
"Of course, that’s before I met you. Now I can’t imagine anything I’d rather have." His gaze was frankly reverent. "You look wonderful, Sarah."
The complement and the warm look in his eyes made her flush. For a moment she considered his appearance. Like her he wore a white top heavy with fancy stitching and dark green pants of brocade similar to her skirt.
She looked more carefully. No, not similar...identical! With an open-mouth she stared at the embroidery on his shirt, the red-gold roses parading down his sleeves.
"Your clothes. We’re dressed alike."
He looked more carefully at her garments, and his mouth twitched in amusement. "So we are. I suppose you got those from Bethan."
Sarah’s jaw dropped. "She did both of these, didn’t she? That means she must have known.…"
Garran laughed. "Knew I was attached to you? Of course, she and Symon both knew...they encouraged me."
"And me. We’ve both been coerced into this." Fury over the pair’s betrayal filled her. How dare Symon and Bethan encourage her to look for a husband when they knew she’d end up with General Doranth!
"It didn’t take much coercion for me."
Unable to cope with the mixed feelings running through her, Sarah turned to gaze at the room around her, taking it in for the first time.
Garran watched her look around. "These are my quarters--our quarters now. This is the lounge," he told her.
It was impressive, a large room shaped something like a half-circle with couches, chairs, and small tables scattered along the outer walls. The room was configured to accommodate several small groups of people, or a large group facing the media center that covered the inner wall. It would have been ideal for presentations, discussions, as well as parties of up to thirty or so people.
On the left side of the room, was an eating counter with some tall stools. Behind the counter appeared to be a small kitchen area, with cabinets and counters.
The color scheme was all dark browns and tans, with bright splashes of red, green, and blue to brighten the room.
It was easily the loveliest room she had seen to date on The Promise--a ship that seemed filled with lovely rooms. "It is very nice."
He seemed pleased at her praise. Smiling he looked around and when he looked back he had a pleased look on his face. "I’m glad you like it."
Heading for the area behind the counter, Garran gestured to her. "Come and sit down. I didn’t eat much this morning, and I suspect you might be hungry as well." He bent down to look in a cooling cabinet. "Let us just see what the keepers might have left."
Curious, Sarah did as he asked, taking a seat on one of the stools.
He rummaged around in the cabinet and then peeked up at her, his face wearing a delighted grin.
"We have at least one thing in common. You must like pranas as much as I do!" He pulled a large platter arrayed with bright pink shellfish from the cabinet.
Pranas, she remembered, were a dish that had been served earlier in the week. They were prepared in the shell, served cold, and tasted something like the synthetic lobster and crab she’d eaten on rare occasions on Earth...only a hundred times better! She had eaten all of hers, plus a number of others when it turned out some of her tablemates hadn’t cared for them.
Sarah grimaced. It was interesting that someone had been noting her
tastes in food and she bet she knew who’d been keeping such good tabs on her. Bethan again.
He put the platter on the counter, then retrieved plates and eating utensils from other parts of the kitchen, creating two place settings for them. He also found a bowl of greens with a light dressing, a loaf of fresh bread, and got a butter-like spread out.
Then he looked again into the cooler saying, "There should be something else.…
"Oh, yes!" Garran glanced up at her, positively beaming. "This should prove truly helpful." He pulled out a cold bottle of white wine.
"A very good vintage," he told her looking at the label. "And if memory serves, an excellent year. Someone likes us a lot." He pulled the cork, and poured two glasses, looking jubilant over his find.
Apprehensive, Sarah looked at her glass, then at him. She drank wine with meals, but didn’t feel like she should now, too anxious to be even remotely tipsy while alone with him.
"So how is this going to be helpful? You want to get me drunk?"
Again his face turned downcast. "No, not at all. But we need to talk, and a glass or two of this," he said raising his glass, "can be very helpful. Sarah, you are completely safe with me. I would never do anything that you didn’t approve of, and would never take advantage of you. Actually, no true Gaian man would."
He sipped and smiled appreciatively. "Ah, it’s as good as I remember."
Sarah tried her own wine and was delighted with the cool tartness that spread across her tongue and the sweet aftertaste. It was as he said, excellent. As a gentle relaxation filled her, she reluctantly decided that the wine might have been a good idea after all.
Hungry, they dove into their lunch, going through the pile of pranas, salad, and bread quickly. It was some time before either of them felt the need to speak again.
Finally, Sarah broke the silence. "Well, one thing for sure, you certainly live well." She another sip of wine and checked the pile of shells in front of her for missed pieces of the succulent meat.
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