Before the Fire Page 18

  Alex cleared his throat, causing Kane to look toward him. “In a little over eight months,” the marquess choked out.

  Kane squinted as she considered that piece of information. Apparently her husband and friend had experience with this disorder to know exactly how long it would last. “Oh?”

  George lifted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. He was smiling terrifically so she obviously had contracted something curable. “Kane, my love, your disease is no disease.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it?”

  He kissed her soundly on the lips then gently grabbed her chin once more. “You’re going to have my baby.”

  Chapter 25

  “You could have broken the news a bit more gently,” Lady Blake chided her son.

  “Your mother’s right, my boy,” Chester added, “gave the poor chit a fright, you did.”

  “When do you suppose she’ll wake up?” Alex asked.

  The three of them hovered over the Blackmore marriage bed, watching as George tended to his wife. He wiped her brow down with a cool cloth, then turned to his audience and scowled. “I’ve no notion when she’ll wake up. My wife isn’t at all the type to succumb to a fit of the vapors.”

  “Look what marriage to you does to the gel,” Chester quipped.

  George glared at him. He grunted and turned back to face his wife.

  The foursome watched the countess intently, cheering up a great deal when her eyelids at last began to flutter open. “George?” she asked in a whisper, her eyes still half closed.

  The earl grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m here, darling.”

  Kane smiled ever so slightly, then just as quickly began to frown. She was remembering. And if memory served her correctly…

  She bolted upright in the bed, thumping her husband’s jaw in the process. Her eyes flew open and narrowed into icy blue slits as she accused him through them. “You!” she spat, shaking her finger at him ominously. “You…you…defiler of the laws of the Milky Way Galaxy!”

  “Kane,” George pleaded.

  She threw his hand off of her arm. She was in no mood to be consoled. “You impregnator of high born women!”

  “Kane,” he gritted out between set teeth, “’tis the way of breeding in this world.”

  She lost some of her fire at those words, closing her eyes morosely at the thought. She certainly hadn’t considered this breeding business when she’d jumped at the chance to marry George. “It will hurt!” she accused him, opening her eyes again.

  “Dreadfully so,” Lady Julia agreed.

  George spared a brief moment to glare at his mother before trying to make amends to his wife. “I’m sorry sweetheart,” he implored her. “I thought you understood how it was done here.”

  Kane knew he was right. He had no way of knowing. And she should have considered the fact that her pregnancy inoculation was no good when used in conjunction with mating a non-inoculated male. It was all her fault. She couldn’t stop pitying herself, however. “Oh George,” she cried, “I’m too small for such an event.”

  George blushed, trying to behave as though her words in front of company were anywhere within the realm of propriety. “All will be well, my dear.”

  “What if I can’t squeeze it out?” She clutched the covers to her chest and gasped. “What is it tears me apart?”

  Chester clapped a hand to his forehead, grimacing at the notion.

  “Or what if it likes my belly so much that it never desires to leave it?” She burst into tears.

  “That won’t happen,” George assured her as he awkwardly patted her knee.

  “Oh? And you’ve had one to know this?” she cried. “Perhaps it will stay in my belly, refusing to come out. Then it will grow so big that my stomach will burst open and it will jump out at us like a mutant hybrid from Zyphon’s twin planet Zypher!”

  Alex felt faint. The mental picture was not a pretty one.

  George shook his weary head in confusion, uncertain as to how he should proceed. He decided that patting his wife’s knee was as good as he was liable to come up with. “That won’t happen,” he clumsily offered.

  “Do you know this for a fact?”

  “Yes, I do,” he stated firmly.

  “Your lord husband is correct,” Lady Julia assured Kane as she plopped down on the bed next to her. She reached for her hand and stroked it. “I promise you that nothing dreadful will happen.”

  “Really?” she inquired.

  The viscountess nodded forcefully. “Definitely. Oh, I won’t lie, it will hurt like the devil, but it will pass.” She kissed Kane’s worried forehead, smoothing a few tendrils of hair from her daughter-in-law’s brow. “But it will be worth it.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ll have a baby!” Lady Julia beamed. “My grandchild!” She looked at her son and smiled warmly. She then proceeded to burst into tears. “My little Georgie’s baby!” she wailed.

  Chester and Alex shifted uneasily on their feet. Too many tears they’d been made privy to this night.

  Kane reached out to comfort her mother-in-law, hugging her tightly to her body. “George’s baby,” she breathed out, as if the notion was now soothing instead of repulsive. She smiled at her husband while embracing the viscountess. She reached out and took his hand. “Our baby,” she whispered.

  George felt the tears gathering at his own eyes, but refused to let them fall. He smiled at his wife instead, stroking her hand and feeling vastly contented. “Yes, my love. Our baby.”

  * * * * *

  After tucking Kane into bed for the night, George escorted his mother, father-in-law, and best friend into his study for a drink. He had a servant bring a glass of wine in for his mother, then poured a glass of port for Alex, Chester, and himself.

  “She seems to be taking it much better,” Alex offered as soon as the butler closed the door of the study.

  Chester nodded. “Indeed. Got some color back, she did.”

  George took a sip of port, then sighed deeply. “Never thought she’d calm down.” He saluted his guests with a raised glass. “But she did.”

  “Praise the heavens,” Lady Julia mumbled, downing her wine.

  Alex reclined on the sofa and stretched out his long legs. He shook his head as he contemplated some of the horrific things the countess had said up in her bedchamber.

  George raised a quizzical brow. “What’s the matter, Alex?”

  The marquess shrugged as he took a sip of his port. “I was just thinking, is all.”

  “About?”

  Alex frowned. “Zypher. That planet sounds a dreadful place.”

  Chester grimaced. “Imagine that. Mutant hybrids bursting forth from one’s person.” He shivered. “I’ve no notion what a mutant hybrid is, but it sounds a trite wicked.”

  * * * * *

  An hour later, George crawled into bed and drew his wife into the fold of his arms. For the first night since they consummated their marriage, he was too exhausted to claim his privileges. Simply holding her against his chest was enough.

  And she did deserve the rest, poor woman. Finding out she was breeding had knocked the wind clear out of her sails.

  Breeding.

  His baby.

  Their baby.

  George tucked his wife’s head underneath his chin and fell into a peaceful sleep. He was the luckiest man in the world.

  Chapter 26

  The worries associated with pregnancy and the subsequent birthing were put aside to prepare for Melea’s pending arrival. She was scheduled to attempt the transferring process in precisely five minutes. After much deliberation on both sides, the consensus was that the Warrior Woman would transfer into the Blackmore London gardens, off the beaten path, where the Blackmores, Blakes, and the Marquess of Asherby often practiced their sparring.

  Kane paced frantically, clutching her laser-c tightly to her chest. George and Alex watched her wear a brisk indentation into t
he grass, choosing wisely to remain silent.

  Chester and Julia had wanted to be present for the transferring, but the viscountess came down with a megrim before the duo could set out this morning. Her new husband forced her abed, staying with her to look after his wife. Vexed, Lady Julia relented in the end, but sent a servant over with notes to the Blackmore and Asherby estates demanding their presence at dinner this evening at the Blake townhouse.

  In all actuality, Kane planned to visit her mother-in-law directly after Melea’s transfer. She winced with guilt knowing she could have prevented the viscountess’s headache had she but inoculated her long ago. The first item on her agenda was to inoculate everyone dear to her so they shouldn’t suffer needlessly. The second item was finding the damned kabitross. Once she had Melea, it was all she planned to do with her time.

  “Kane dearest,” George chastised, deciding he could hold his tongue for only so long, “you shouldn’t be pacing about so recklessly in your condition.” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her, daring his wife to say otherwise.

  She did.

  “George dearest,” she gritted back, “you are the one who got me in this ‘condition’, as you so aptly named it.” She scowled at him, wagging her finger. “I have decided that I am much looking forward to having your child, but carrying him or her doesn’t make me an invalid.” She straightened her shoulders, throwing her hands protectively toward her belly. “You will leave us alone.”

  George smiled. He knew he should have been angered by her insolent words, but he was too pleased in realizing that mother and child were already bonding to be bothered by the proprieties. Kane would make a most delightful mama.

  Alex pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time. He glanced sharply at Kane and nodded. “We’ve but two minutes left, my lady.”

  Kane rubbed her belly absently as she took a deep breath. Patience had never been one of her virtues. Apparently it still wasn’t. She wanted this business over and done with already.

  A minute later the air around them began to grow fuzzy and tense. There was a charge of energy about them that neither George nor Alex could give a name to. It was similar to an electrical current, like one emitted in a lightning storm, yet vastly different. The energy was calmer, more controlled. It was called fero-nitrum, but of course, neither of the gentlemen would have known that.

  Kane smiled, knowing the time was at hand. Any minute now she would be reunited with her closest female friend. Any second and she would finally be in the presence of—

  “Melea.”

  A smiling twenty-fifth century woman carrying her travelling kit and laser-c stepped out of the energy emission and hugged Kane tightly against her. “I have missed you!” she declared.

  “And I you!”

  The women hugged each other for a few moments as the energy surrounding them faded, speaking rapidly in their own dialect. George noted at once that their words were English, yet they weren’t. They spoke close enough to the king’s English for him to make out most of what they were saying, yet there was a definite difference to their speech in both pattern and phraseology.

  Remembering their audience, Kane grabbed Melea’s hand and steered her toward her husband. Smiling broadly, she introduced them. “Melea, my permanent companion and husband, George. George, my best friend, Melea.”

  The earl took Melea’s hand and kissed her chastely on the palm. “Mistress Melea. It is a pleasure.”

  Melea inclined her head hesitantly, unsure as to what was expected of her. Shrugging her shoulders in the universal symbolism of “ah, what the hell”, she picked up the earl’s palm and kissed him back. George sputtered, looking to his wife for aid, uncertain as to how he should go on. Melea ignored that. “It is a pleasure to meet you this fine day, daddy-o.”

  George and Alex raised a brow.

  Kane winced. It was obvious that Melea had undergone the same useless data injection that she had before coming to 1776. “Melea,” she informed her, “for the most part it is wise to forget what you have learned from your injectable.” She clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Women do not kiss men’s palms here. Nor is a gentleman referred to as ‘daddy-o’!”

  Melea frowned. She made a mental note to kill Linder when she returned. She grunted, turning to face the marquess. Her eyes lit up, twinkling their mischief as recognition struck. “Ah,” she teased, “I’d know this humanoid anywhere.” She squinted her eyes together as if seriously pondering the matter, then snapped her fingers in faux deliberation. “But I have to be sure.” She circled him slowly, mischievously. Winking at the earl and countess from behind Alex’s back, she then pulled up his coattails and nodded. “Yes, definitely the same man.”

  Alex’s face turned crimson, a curious mix of embarrassment and indignation. “Mistress,” he gritted out, “we do not subject noblemen to such treatment here.”

  Melea nodded, completely unperturbed. She stood up on tiptoe, grabbed the marquess by the back of the neck, and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Is that better, humanoid?” she breathed out.

  His face bright purple, he still managed to nod. “Of the two, yes, it is preferable.”

  George studied his boots. Interesting shade of black.

  Kane giggled. By Saturn’s rings, it was fun to see Melea make all the same mistakes she had made when first joining 1776!

  Melea patted Alex playfully on the rump, causing the marquess to expel an undignified yelp. “Well,” the Warrior Woman announced, totally unaware of the fact that she’d just made another blunder, “let us make haste to the bachelor pad.”

  * * * * *

  Dinner at the Blake townhouse that night was decidedly noteworthy. Indeed, George was certain it would be commented upon for many years to come by all parties involved, servants included.

  His wife’s friend Melea was, well, unique. The earl thought it wouldn’t be understating the issue to say that she would have a lot more difficulty fitting into Georgian England than Kane had had. He glanced over toward the harridan in question, enjoying every moment of Alex’s discomfit at the Warrior Woman’s capable hands.

  “I rather like the color black on you, Alex,” Melea stated after sipping from her wine. “I desire for you to wear nothing else in my presence. Unless, of course, you’re naked.” She inclined her head regally, stating without words that the subject was closed and no arguments to the contrary would be permitted.

  Alex narrowed his eyes into menacing green slits.

  Kane clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled.

  George studied his wine glass. Interesting specimen of crystal.

  Viscount Blake cleared his throat. He tried desperately to think of a way to turn the topic. “I, uh, I’m partial to black myself, Melea,” he sputtered. “Interesting color, that.”

  Smoooooth, George thought wryly.

  “Why yes,” Lady Julia added, her aristocratic cheekbones stained scarlet, “I daresay black should be all the rage.”

  Alex grunted, downing the remainder of his wine in one swallow. Annoyed by Melea’s boldness, and even more annoyed by his aunt and uncle’s attempt at saving face on her behalf, he cocked an arrogant eyebrow and regarded his quarry. “I’m rather partial to the color of flesh myself.”

  Lady Julia gasped. She retrieved her fan from only the goddesses know where and began whipping it about her face. Her husband rolled his eyes and ripped the delicate lace contraption out of her grip, but then, thinking better of it, began fanning both of their heated faces with it.

  George studied the paintings on the wall above Alex’s head. Interesting. Vastly interesting.

  Melea flushed, looking away from the marquess.

  Kane arched a golden brow. It was at that moment that she became aware of her best friend’s game. She would keep her secret, of course. For now.

  Alex smiled predatorily, feeling every inch the victor in this round of the Battle of Words. He straightened in his chair, leaning into the table with
a casual air of pompousness. He winked at the earl while motioning for a servant to refill his glass of wine.

  * * * * *

  Over the course of the next few weeks, Kane and Melea became intimately acquainted with every known collection of books in London. They searched the private libraries of a variety of Britain’s reputable (and not so reputable) households.

  They hunted everywhere, from logical starting points such Lord Ames’ collection of books, which he housed for his work within the Agrarian Society, to less logical domiciles, such as Lord Smith’s collection revolving around his passion for the London Antiquities Society. And yet, weeks later, the women were still no closer to finding the damned plant than Kane had been on her own.

  The ever-elusive kabitross wore more and more on Kane’s mind with each passing day. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Had she been wrong in her research? Had the kabitross ever grown on planet earth?

  There were many moments of late when she feared the answer was no, it had never been here. More often than not, however, she worried that the kabitross had indeed dwelled within the earth’s boundaries, but in a different millenium altogether. Not that she could be sorry for the error she’d perhaps made, otherwise she never would have met George. But for Linder she was sorry, and for Egis more than anyone.

  On her better days, Kane still held high hopes for finding the plant in Georgian England. Something deep inside of herself—the gut instinct she’d always relied upon in the past—told her not to give up. She had to have faith. And she had to keep searching.

  One conclusion, however, was inescapable: she needed to search the land again and forgo any more library-hopping. The books she’d scoured through with Melea had been filled with a lot of interesting drawings of many a notable flower, but none was the flower, the kabitross.

  After arriving home late in the day from viewing Lord Smith’s collection of books on antiquities with Melea and George, Kane vowed to herself that it was the last library they would search—ever. For one thing, she was down to grasping at straws. For another, she realized it was a lot of work on her husband’s behalf having to set up viewings in the individual homes of London’s nobility. On top of that one unavoidable reality, there was also the fact that it took too much time away from George’s other duties to escort Kane and Melea all over London every day.