Reckless Rescue (21 page)

“Kiss me now then,” Marlee said, shocked at her own words. She blushed, but didn’t look away. Her body tingled in anticipation.

“What?”

“Kiss me now,” she repeated. “There’s no pressure, and no one watching.” A shiver ran through her, whether from excitement or cold she wasn’t sure.

Tyris cocked his head, staring at her. Marlee tried to encourage him with a smile, though her heart fluttered. He took a half step towards her, closing the distance between them, and his hand reached out and brushed the hair out of her eyes gently. When he cupped her cheek and Marlee held her breath.

He lowered his head and her eyes slipped closed. This time, his lips met hers as gently as the snowflakes swirling around them. She felt the tension drain from his body in a sigh, and he pulled back. She opened her eyes to find his face only inches from hers.

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he stared into her eyes. His finger caressed her cheek, sending tremors all the way down to her toes. “Is that better?”

“No,” Marlee said.

Tyris’s cheeks flushed and his hand fell away from her face.

“This is better.” She stood on tiptoe, put her arms around his neck and leant into him until her chest rested against his. Then she kissed him properly.

She could feel his heart beating wildly against her chest. A soft groan escaped his lips and his arms went around her waist. He kissed her desperately, not coming up for air.

No one had ever kissed her like this before. It filled her mind, pushing aside all other thoughts, and sent heat coiling in the pit of her stomach. She was aware of every place their bodies touched—his hands flat against the small of her back, her breasts pressed up against his chest, and the hardness against her stomach, indicating that his desire flared as strong as hers.

Finally, he pulled back a few inches, his breathing ragged. He stared down at her intensely.

“Was that better?” she asked, tilting her face, smiling at him. Nerves suddenly assailed her. She shouldn’t have done that. What if he didn’t feel the same way?

“Much better.” His low voice sent a shiver up her spine.

Marlee stared at him, not moving. She didn’t want to risk anything breaking this moment.
It won’t last
, a little voice tried to intrude, but she ignored it. For just a few moments, she let herself enjoy the magical feeling coursing through her.

“We should get in out of the cold,” Tyris said. But he didn’t move.

“Yes, we should,” Marlee agreed, but she kept her arms around his neck.

Then Tyris took one step back, breaking the contact between their bodies. Marlee bit back a sigh. They couldn’t stand in the snow all day, but that didn’t make it any easier to let go. Neither of them said anything, just turned together and walked back to the house.

*****

T
YRIS FOLLOWED
M
ARLEE BACK TO
the house, needing a moment to clear his head. It had all happened so quickly. His lips still felt warm from her kiss, and his heart still thumped like crazy. His whole body ached with the need to take Marlee into bed and make love to her thoroughly.

But he couldn’t.

He’d seen the passion in her eyes and felt in her kiss. There was something between them, something he didn’t even want to examine right now. But it was tied up in the villager’s weird ideas, and he didn’t like the association. Even though everything she’d done indicated that she wanted this as much as he did, she’d grown up with so many rules around relationships and sex, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility that there was still some idea of the obligation in the back of her mind.

But even if he had been certain she wasn’t feeling pressured, even if he believed she truly wanted him, wanted to take the risk of loving someone again, he couldn’t give her what she needed. He couldn’t give her a child. Not while he still had the contraceptive implant in his arm.

So when they were alone in the warmth of Marlee’s house, instead of taking her into his arms and letting passion lead, he kept his distance, and said quietly, “We should talk about this.”

Marlee’s shoulders slumped. He couldn’t blame her. Talking was the last thing on his mind too.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice wavering. “If the council is changing the rules on us….”

“Has anyone asked for proof of a relationship before?” he asked

Marlee shook her head. “No, not that I know of. I guess they think this is different. People just assume that a couple is sleeping together when they move into the same house. But that wasn’t why you moved in here.”

Tyris nodded. “Do you think we convinced them?”

Marlee blushed. “I think so, yes.” Tyris hoped he wasn’t blushing as well. The thought of kissing her out in the snowstorm warmed more than his face. He cleared his throat. “Well, that’s something I guess. But even if we did, we might not have as long as you thought.”

“No.” Marlee heaved a sigh. “I can’t believe they would do this.” Tiredness filled her voice, and her face.

The urge to take her into his arms and kiss her distress away was strong, but he curbed it. “How long will they keep pressuring somebody?” Tyris asked. “I mean, after you’ve been through enough relationships, surely the council is willing to accept that someone is infertile and let them choose their own lives?”

Marlee winced at the word infertile, and Tyris cursed his thoughtless comment. She had to be afraid of the possibility even though she never spoke of it.

“I don’t know,” she said. “We haven’t gotten to that point yet. Most of the original refugees each had at least a couple of children, and most of those children are still young enough that they haven’t tried more than a couple of times. Except Beren I guess.”

“Beren?” It took a few moments for Tyris to put the name with a face. A young man around his age, with sandy hair in tight curls. He always seemed to be laughing or smiling, and he always seemed to have a group around him. “What happened?” he asked.

“Beren was ten when we arrived here,” Marlee explained. “There weren’t too many other women around his age, which meant he was a little older when he had his first partner. He’s had five now, none of which have resulted in a child, though one woman has gone on to have a child afterwards. His last relationship ended a year ago, but no one is willing to take the risk anymore,” Marlee said sadly.

“So why can’t he be with anyone he wants?” Tyris asked. Perhaps, if he told the council that he couldn’t have children, he could opt out of this strange deal they had going.

Marlee stared at him, and he knew he’d missed something. “Technically, I suppose, except there isn’t anyone else who is exempt from the rules. Maybe we’ll get to that point, but it’s a few years off yet.”

So he could opt out, but it would mean leaving Marlee. He couldn’t face that possibility. He couldn’t imagine having to watch her with another man—ever. The stricken look on Marlee’s face as she had looked at Nelor with another woman haunted him.

“Who was that with Nelor tonight?” he asked.

He tried not to be jealous of the fact that she still cared about Nelor. Nerris might say she didn’t love him, but he wasn’t convinced, meaning he couldn’t discount the idea that her sudden affection for him wasn’t fuelled by a desire to convince someone—herself, her family, Nelor—that she had moved on too.

Marlee busied herself with checking the fire, even though they hadn’t been gone long enough for it to have died down. “Brenda,” she said, her voice muffled.

“But why is she single, she already has kids? Did they split her up from the dad anyway?” It didn’t make any sense, but then again, nothing around here did.

Apparently this was a safer topic. Marlee stepped away from the fire and sat down in the chair. Tyris took a seat opposite her.

“No, if a couple has a baby, they don’t get split up, no one has yet anyway. Brenda’s partner, the kids’ dad, died about six months ago,” Marlee said. “He cut himself with an axe. Karla did everything she could, but it got infected and…” she trailed off.

Tyris didn’t need to hear more. A serious infection without access to antibiotics could easily be fatal. And a slow, distressing death. “So now he’s gone, the pressure is on again?”

Marlee shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Perhaps it would’ve come, but not yet. She’s kept to herself for quite a while. I was surprised to see her tonight.”

She jumped up again and fiddled with the fire, feeding small sticks into it though it was burning merrily.

“Are you okay?”

Marlee shrugged, without turning around. “I’ll survive.”

Tyris knelt down next to her, and despite his earlier plans to keep his distance, he took her hands in his. “I didn’t ask if you’d survive, I asked if you were okay.”

She smiled wanly, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all. I hope he’ll be happy with her. He’ll love playing with her kids. I always knew he’d be a great dad.” Her voice broke on the last sentence.

Tyris wasn’t sure if her grief was for losing Nelor or sadness that she might never have children herself. Did it really matter? He couldn’t help her with either.

Wordlessly he pulled her into his arms and patted her back. She held him tightly for a few moments. Then she pulled back, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and asked, “Do you want something to eat?”

Tyris nodded. He sat by the fire and let her distract herself with the familiar tasks, preparing scones to go into the oven and making them both a cup of tea. It was only when she sat opposite him, tea in hand, that he braved the topic he couldn’t leave unsaid.

“What do you think about your mother’s warning? Does it change our plans at all?”

Marlee stared into the fire, sipping her tea. Tyris wasn’t fooled into thinking she hadn’t heard his question. She was considering it, considering all the possibilities, the same ones that had been playing on his mind since her mother’s comments.

Finally, she looked over at him. “You mean, am I considering giving in and trying for a baby?”

Tyris swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

What would he do if she said yes? How would she react when he told her he couldn’t have kids? Chances are she’d throw him out. What use was he in a world where having a baby meant so much?

Marlee stared at him for a moment, and it felt like she was looking into his soul. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

Then she shook her head. “No, this changes nothing. It’s going to be hard enough when the council declares this over. If I start to hope that it might not have to be, then it will be unbearable. I don’t want to do that again.”

Tyris nodded, trying not to let the relief he felt show on his face. “We continue as we are then,” he said.

Marlee nodded and stared into the fire again.

Tyris watched the flickering flames too, staring through them, trying not to imagine walking into the hall holding Marlee’s hand—with their own child in his arms.

M
ARLEE WALKED QUICKLY TO THE
barn, eager to get out of the cold. Inside, the body heat from the animals crowded into the stall warmed the area considerably. She called quietly to Benati, and the goat nuzzled her hand.

She whistled as she began to milk. Even after their resolution to continue as they had been, it felt different. Marlee’s face warmed at the thought of Tyris’s kiss. How could they pretend nothing had changed?

The only thing holding them back was her fear. Could she let it go? Could she find a way to hope again after all the disappointment?

Could she let Tyris go without even trying to make it work?

Marlee squirted the last of the milk into the bucket, no closer to a solution. But she wasn’t upset. The answer would come to her when the time was right.

As she straightened her back, something made a noise behind her. She ushered the goat back into her pen. Putting down the bucket of milk, she looked around the barn. Noise greeted her on all sides. Sheep bleated, chickens clucked, animals moved around the barn. She tried to filter them out, listening for a sound that did not belong here.

There it was again. A soft sob. Marlee crossed to the bales of hay and peered behind them.

Jaimma sat with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest, her face red from crying. When she saw Marlee, she burst into tears.

Marlee knelt in the hay beside her friend, and put her arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I’m not pregnant,” Jaimma sobbed.

“Oh, Jaimma.” Marlee hugged her more tightly. “Does Jaidin know?”

“Not yet,” Jaimma’s voice was muffled. “I don’t know how to tell him. I really thought I was this time. I was two days late.”

Marlee didn’t know what to say. She wanted to do something to make it better, but she couldn’t. Nothing could make it better. So she just held her friend, patting her back while she cried out her frustration.

“How much longer do you have?” she asked, when Jaimma’s tears slowed.

Her question started Jaimma crying again. Marlee leaned close to hear her voice through her sobs. “One more try.”

“Well, it’s not over yet then.” Marlee forced her voice to sound bracing. “You and Jaidin will just have to try harder next time.”