by Jean Winter
“Well you … I—” Lyra floundered, “That was still mean!” That was lame.
Lyra sat hunched, waiting for him to laugh at her again. He didn't.
“You should have seen how gleefully he was digging his knife into Ahskr when I came upon him,” J'Kor said, softer now. “He was no' as innocent as he appeared.”
Lyra wished he had laughed. She would have taken it in a second over this moiling inner turmoil. It was unbearable. Had she been judgmental? She? The righteous Saint? The Bearer? The Believer? She lay back wearily against the headboard, not sure how to feel about anything anymore.
After all her worrying and fear and suspicions, what had the Spirit continually counseled? Wait. Trust. Continue forward in faith. He needs you. Lyra blinked at the hot tears trying to sting her eyes. She had wanted so badly to hate this man—to label him evil. “Forgive me, my lord,” she mumbled, “for judging you. I just … I wish I knew what you are thinking—what you are planning for me.”
He breathed a weary sigh. “I already told you earlier, I am undecided.”
“But that was in reference to how you felt yesterday.”
“And that feeling has no' changed. I have been racking my brains for two days trying to figure out what I should do with you. Well, I know what I should do, but it is no' what I want to do, and I am still unsure which is the right thing to do, and you keep driving me daft!”
Strangely, Lyra felt better with that little outburst. He was just as confused about her as she him. She sniffed and wiped at her cheeks, and J'Kor bent over, clasping his hands between his knees.
“But oddly enough,” he said, “the security o' my country is no' my greatest concern at the moment.” Taking a breath, he looked up at her. “I ask about your children because you are about to meet mine. They will be home for the weekend in a few hours.”
No, no, no! No new complications! This is too much!
“You have …?” She sat up straight. It did make sense. She'd noticed little things about the home: extra towels and toothbrushes, the clothes he had given her, the one door in the hallway painted lavender, certain telltale scuff marks on walls and furniture indicative of youthful grime and wear. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I suppose …” some fingers twirled randomly in the air, “I wanted to have the first couple days with you, simply, as a man before I had to wear the single father mantle again. Though, I had no' planned to wait until this last minute,” he told her with a grimace. “Things have no' gone quite as expected since bringing you home, so forgive me for floundering now.”
Silence unfolded between them and Lyra's thoughts, as she sat in the bed, spun into turbid motion, churning, agitated—until a question, like cream in a bucket, rose to the top. “My lord?”
He was staring out the window again.
# # #
“My lord!”
Kade turned.
“My lord,” she said one more time, “do you wish me to be a nursemaid or—or some mother-figure to your children? Is that why you have not turned me in?” The woman's soul-searching eyes penetrated deeply into his own.
Her hair was unkempt and matted against her head. Her eyes, rimmed with red puffiness. Her right cheek sported the regrettable, colorful welt from the back of his hand. And she was still beautiful.
“Aye—as a matter o' fact,” he said. “Something along those lines had crossed my thoughts.” Among other things. “At least, through today.”
“Today, my lord? And what about tomorrow?”
Kade rolled his eyes. “I canno' say how I will feel about things tomorrow. Ask me again in the morning!”
She went still and Kade berated himself for sounding so wishy-washy. He was usually pretty sure of his convictions. Yet, here he was, quietly sweeping the law under the rug for his own personal motives. Hopefully he wouldn't trip over the untidy lump he had just created.
Lyra's eyes were guarded as she looked at him again. “So, my performance today will affect tomorrow's decision?”
Well, that was how blackmail usually went—much as Kade hated to admit this what he was doing with her. His shoulder was still sore from the log splitting frenzy of two nights ago and he rubbed at it, as if easing the muscles might also ease his conscience. “Lyra, do you wish to stay here?”
She hesitated before answering.
He was an insensitive jerk. She had family and friends who probably thought she was dead. Of course she didn't want to be here! But she understood his meaning and nodded quietly.
“Then keep giving me reasons to keep you. Make me believe your kind are no' a threat.”
It bothered Kade, these strong feelings of empathy for her, but what else, in good conscience, was he to do? Setting her free was not an option—on multiple levels—and even if he wanted to, there was no known safe procedure for removing an implant. Furthermore, the signal could only be blocked by a very few, rare elements which required the person to be completely enclosed. It would just be a different kind of prison. He was not the bad guy here!
He watched her stir uncomfortably in the bed, lines of resignation worrying her lovely mouth. “What can I do to keep you pleased with me, my lord?” she said.
Now, that was the million rednote question.
CHAPTER 5
Her hair hung across her bowed head like a curtain as the woman sat small and hunched in Kade's bed, hugging her knees to her chest. The strong, vibrant khar of a few days ago now appeared very fragile and pale, indeed, but how to answer! Kade really didn't know. All he did know was that he was not yet ready to part ways with her. You must protect her. The clear impression from the auction still gnawed at him mercilessly, demanding satisfaction.
Fine. Fine! I give in—for the time being.
Kade dragged his chair to the bedside and turned it backwards to straddle it. Folding his arms across the tall back, he said, “Well, to begin, perhaps we can offer each other a fresh start.” Maybe he could call this an investigation. Aye. He could investigate her further before making any decision. “You are in need o' a place to live and, as luck would have it, I need a live-in maid and, er, helper. Are you game, Mrs. Woodrose?”
He may have just crossed a dangerous line there, but the change in her countenance was worth it. Kade just had to remind himself that this investigation—this experiment of gentle probing and discovery—was, first, meant to be an exercise of the intellectual kind. Business first. The pleasure would come later. He just needed more time to work his way into that infatuating, though misguided, head of hers.
She took a cleansing breath and dabbed at her eyes one more time. “Okay,” she whispered. “Um, tell me about your children. How many do you have?”
“I have two. But how about I leave you to eat before I give you the grand tour o' their rooms?”
When Lyra was ready, he ended up just cradling her in his arms, carrying her. It was easier that way. And it was a good excuse to touch her … and get her accustomed to him touching her. “They are at boarding school in the city during the school year,” he told her as they crossed the great room, “but they come home one day a week. Sid' is their day off.”
He took her to Breht's room first. Kade set her in his son's desk chair and let her eyes wander through the simple, sparse bedroom of his teenager. Breht: the spitting image of his grandfather, getting taller every day, voice beginning to crack, too smart for his own good, a little impetuous—much like his own father at that age, and at that time in adolescence when his friends' opinions were more important than his dad's. Lyra asked questions about his interests and his schooling endeavors. Kade showed her Breht's trophies in disc and team obstacle. The boy had natural athletic ability, but it was his gift for strategy of which Kade was most proud.
“How old was he when his mother died?” Lyra asked as Kade carried her out.
“He had just turned twelve when she got sick with the mytes—about three years ago. She passed away three weeks later.” He took her past Jos'lie's pastel purple door and inside
his daughter's room. “It was a hard time. Ahna's death was his first brush with the realities o' mortality. And I think it shook him.”
“Was it the same for your daughter, too?” She lifted sympathetic eyes to his.
“Well … Jos'lie did no' really understand.”
From his daughter's bed, he let Lyra view Jos'lie's artwork pinned to the wall—rudimentary stick figures, coarsely outlined house and flower shapes, oval-bodied animals. An ill match for the nearly woman-size dresses hanging in the closet.
Lyra turned on him quizzically. “Is Jos'lie extremely tall for her age?”
“No,” he answered quietly. “She is eleven.”
“And these drawings are recent?”
“Aye.” Kade waited for the usual curl of the lip and nervous discomfort he got so often from others. It didn't come.
Lyra picked up Jos's little felt doll from the cluttered nightstand heaping with small stuffed animals, rocks she had collected, and colored hair ribbons. “Tell me about her,” she said.
Kade joined her in gazing upon the old doll—Jos'lie's first and favorite since she was three. “She was born that way,” he began simply.
Jos'lie was delayed in just about everything. She wasn't out of diapers before four and tying a simple shoe lace was still quite the challenge. She had problems forming words properly. Simply adding two and two didn't even quite compute, and Kade paid extra for her daily special instruction and help at school. But in spite of all, Jos'lie was serenely happy and innocent by nature. She was always ready with a big smile for anyone who cared to give her the time of day and she loved being around people, feeling like she was part of the group. Unfortunately, it was not a frequent experience.
Lyra took it all remarkably in stride. She asked about Jos'lie's coordination and her ability to understand directions, and, instead of reluctance, Kade sensed a respectful fascination from his khar—er, Believer hostage. Before he knew it, he was lying on his back on Jos'lie's bed with its lacy pink coverlet, his legs dangling over the edge, and staring up at the ceiling as he told Lyra more of his frustrations and fears.
“She is three levels behind, and the pressure from certain o' the faculty to take her out o' school all together is increasing. They think I should just try to get some use out o' her at home instead o' being a financial burden at school.”
“Do you see her as a burden?” Lyra said, a slight edge to her voice as she looked down at him.
“No, no, o' course no'. She is the light o' my life. They both are.” Kade turned his head to her. “And I do no' want to give up on an education for her yet. It is just frustrating, no' knowing if a normal life for her will ever be possible. A family o' her own. Love …”
A few of his fingers began to stroke the side of Lyra's leg just in inch away. He made them stop.
“My lord—” Then Lyra stopped, like she was afraid to say more
“You may speak your mind.”
“My lord … God does not make mistakes. He sent your daughter to you just the way she is for a reason. Sometimes blessings come in unusual packages.” The warmth of her hand fell over the back of his. “And I can't wait to meet her.”
Kade was sure the mention of her religion would bother him, but it didn't. He was thinking, instead, how he wanted to turn his hand up and return the gesture.
Restraint. Patience.
The conversation about Jos'lie continued, but Kade found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. The afternoon light streaming through the window penetrated the light fabric of Lyra's nightgown and the gentle curve of her back from shoulder to hip was quite visible.
His arms got waved away when it was time for her to return to bed for a nap. She said she wanted to try walking, but Kade hovered close, just in case.
“And they are expecting to meet a new woman in the home today?” she said in closing, having made it through the great room with no mishap.
Well …
She read the look on his face. “You didn't tell them?”
“I let it be a last minute decision.” He shrugged. “It is no' a big a deal, anyway. I have brought women home before.”
“But this is different, my lord. I am different! What are you going to say?”
“I am going to tell them that I went into town and bought myself a khar.” Henna's bosom! Women get so caught up in the details!
Her mouth hung open for a moment, then she quickly shut it and got herself back into bed. Thank you. Now, you just relax and let me handle my own children like I have already been doing their whole bloody lives.
Kade left after that to get some work done out in the barn. He had a plow that needed sprucing up for spring planting, among others things. His mind, however, was soon traveling back to his house. In his bedroom. He hadn't told Lyra how concerned the huge man from the caravan had been yesterday—though he had tried not to show it. Kade also hadn't let on how long Hundt actually sat at her side. Kade had had to do some convincing that his home was the safest place for her now before he could even get Hundt to let go of her hand. Not that the guy had any legal say in the matter. Nevertheless, Kade was not stupid enough to provoke someone thirty pounds heavier in lean bulk. And he decided he kind of liked the guy. Mr. Hundt appeared to have some brains working in tandem with those engorged biceps.
Now, as for the fiasco with the goodly Doctor Nim. Bloody zeth'! Kade didn't even want to think about that woman's mind blowing notion. As if he didn't already have enough to worry about!
Nevertheless, Nim's assertive, parting words ran through his head one more time. … and you had better take good care o' that girl. She had actually poked him in the chest when she said it! Well, he had another week to ponder that conundrum before she was back.
The sprocket he had just oiled for the third time got set down and Kade looked around, surprised at how little work had gotten done in the hour he'd been out here. He growled. Oh well. At least enough time had passed that he could go check on Lyra without appearing overly attentive. Then he should probably stay inside anyway to start fixing dinner. He did not expect any work from her today.
Lyra was emerging from the lavatory in a freshly donned frock, towel-drying her washed hair when he stepped back inside. “What are you doing out o' bed?”
“Just give me a few more minutes, please, and I'll be ready to work again. I know dinner needs to be started.”
“No. You need to lie down. You need rest.”
“I'm feeling much better, really. Let me do something useful.”
Her complexion was still too pale and the slight slump to her shoulders belied her weakened condition. “No, I—”
The wire receiver in his office started ringing. With a warning look that he was not finished with her yet, Kade spun on his heel to go answer it. It was probably Sal, unable to actually wait a whole week before checking up on him. He would be wanting details. Kade chuckled darkly. How well could he lie to his best friend?
“Hello?”
The voice at the other end was not Sal.
“Oh, Lord D'Arby,” Kade said, “How nice to hear from you. … Aye, it has been a long time … Aye, I am fine and the children are well. Thank you for asking.”
Reluctantly, Kade settled into his chair and put his feet up. This could take a while. Lord D'Arby was an old acquaintance of the family and he could carry a conversation all on his own for hours.
“… Aye, that was me.” Kade winced at the old man's mention of the auction. “Thirty thousand, ay—” He shook his head at D'Arby's mild outburst. “Well, she is quite the woman. What can I say? I got caught up in the excitement o' bidding—eh, my Lord D'Arby, was there something o' particular interest that necessitated your call?”
D'Arby spoke more, and Kade listened with growing dismay.
“No, she is no',” he finally answered. “Why would you—? … When exactly did she say that?” He looked at his watch in horror. “No, she did no' tell me.” Curse the gods! What timing. “Okay. Okay, aye, o' course I will. Uh, if t
hat is all, then, as much as I would enjoy catching up I-I have something pressing—I will see you later then. … Aye. … All right. Give my regards to Lady D'Arby. … Thank you. Good bye.”
Kade slammed the receiver down and swore.
“What's wrong?”
Lyra's meek figure shadowed in the hallway peered in at him. Kade bent over his desk, rubbing at his temples. “That was an old friend o' the family. He wired, hoping to speak with my mother. Evidently she told him this morning that it had been a while since she had seen her grandchildren and she was coming for a short visit. He thought she might already be here.”
“And … this is bad.”
Kade stood. “Look, the Lady J'Kor—my mother—is one o' the few women in this country who has been able to attain any degree o' influence politically. She is a very active lobbyist in the highest social circles and makes it her solemn duty to maintain the sacred status quo. She is no' coming to see the children. She is coming to judge you.”
What little color Lyra had regained in her face drained. “Are you sure?”
He snorted. “No doubt she has heard every minute o' every thing that happened with you in the public eye—in triplicate—and she is on errand to determine if you should be disciplined and relocated.” Kade ran his fingers through his hair, agitated. “She would have called otherwise. And the timing ….”
“How long until she arrives?”
Kade looked at his watch again. “A half hour, maybe, if she left at the time she told him she would.”
“My lord, you … you want me to stay, right?” She looked up at him with luminous, questioning eyes.
As the Mother is my witness, as close as skin. “Well, I am no' ready to let anyone take you yet,” he said as flippantly as he could muster.
“Then, what do you want me to do?” she said with a little jut of her chin.