Angel stopped beside the bedroom easy chair, smiling. "Hhhoorrses," she mocked his ‘accent’, saying the word from her stomach. "Horses are delightful, four-legged animals that can be ridden, used for work, and make wonderful companions."

Her rapid fire of words forced Gian to translate. Then his eyes widened. "Beasts?"

She laughed at him outright. "Yes, I suppose. We’ve called them beasts of burden at times. But they have awesome personalities and make very loyal friends. And a tidy profit when they’re high class."

Thank Ushuatan he hadn’t spoken outloud about his decision to serve her. Gian considered aborting the idea. First he was forced to adjust to living amongst humans, and now, to work with…"Picture!"

"Of a horse?"

Angel radiated happiness. Twirling on one foot, she bustled to a crowded bookshelf. Without the slightest pause to select one, she plucked down one of many thick manuals. She had it open and ready by the time she reached his bed.

"There, this is a picture of a Morgan Stallion. A male. Isn’t he beautiful? His name was Region’s Royalty. This book here, volume 47, is the official stud registry from 1935 to 1940. These are usually kept at the Stables in the manager’s office, but after I closed, I brought them all up here for safekeeping."

Gian stared at the beast in shock. An animal! He’d never seen one of these, or any other creature in his entire life. Beasts didn’t exist on Tro^ious Acron. An incredulous grumble rolled up his throat.

She frowned and withdrew the book; cradling it possessively in her arms. "It’s so sad that you have to be snobby about anything but dry old research and study. You’ve no idea what wondrous creatures they really are. After all, Ushuatan made animals along with humans and Tro^ians, so He must think us all worthy of love and kindness." She turned up her nose and walked away, lovingly sliding the manual back into its place amidst the countless others stocked on the shelf.

Gian stifled his irritation. She made it so easy to refuse. Or not offer, rather. But she’d done so much for him already that he had no other moral choice. A small bit of humor spread inside him. Her faked bravado was entertaining. His messenger angel was as sweet as she was beautiful. The files on humans in the Tro^ian archives was completely inaccurate. How could that be?

Edited by: Lorraine Stephens

Copy Edited by:Crystal Laver

Senior Editor: Pat Casey

Managing Editor: Elizabeth Struble

Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens

Cover Layout design by Pam Ripling

Character rendition by Belinda Palmer

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Wings ePress Books

http://www.wings-press.com

Copyright © 2002 by Belinda Palmer

ISBN 1-59088-131-1

Published In the United States Of America

October 2002

To my beautiful children,

who frequently had to make the pilgrimage

to my keyboard and brush the cobwebs off me

in order to see me,

I love you for your patience.

To Linda,

my devoted writing friend,

who tutored me to publishable work,

and Chris,

the one I always rely on

for accurate medical facts,

thank you, from my heart.

Exile with humans?

Death was preferable.

Fire from the navigation panel scorched Gian’s face, but he ignored the pain and programmed a fatal crash to the planet.

Intense heat burned through his protective gloves and singed his fingertips as he pounded on the melting directional control keys. He fisted the panel when their functions failed. No!

The dive of his plunging craft pulled him from his station but Gian tightened his legs around the seat to stay at his post. Surviving this crash was unthinkable, even though he wished this wasn’t the end.

"Ushuatan show mercy, kill," he prayed arrogantly, sucking hellish heat into his lungs. The struggle to breathe stole his concentration. He lost his hold on the chair and flew backwards from the pilot’s station. A sickened scoff bubbled up from his seared throat.

Final justice for a life poorly lived.

Crashing into the half-contracted door, Gian groaned, the sound swallowed up by the roar of flames raging through his science flyer.

One by one his numb fingers slid off the door’s edge. He was dragged to the aft of the ship by the spiraling downward force. Thrown between the narrow space of two body-sized cabinets, he slammed into the wall and gulped huge, useless breaths, suffering a slow asphyxiation. Determined to face death with dignity and eyes open, Gian fought to stay conscious until the end.

The violent impact shattered his small ship and he was hurled into cold, dark air. His terrifying free fall was cut short when he slammed into a solid object. As the pain shot through him, he spun around in mid-air. Unable to bear the agony, Gian blacked out before he hit the ground.

~ * ~

Angel Wright screeched in fear and sat bolt upright in bed, her heart slamming out a beat. She shouted into the silence, "What? What do you want?"

She waited to hear more proof there’d been a terrible explosion--the smell of fire or smoke, her twin sons shouting in distress, this big old colonial house crashing in on itself.

But moments of silence elongated uncomfortably without a hint of anything unusual, her heaved breaths the only sound at all. Staring into the intimidating darkness, she recalled her pleasant dream about riding the Friesian horse she’d owned, when she was 17, through a field of yellowing alfalfa.

Two dreams, maybe? Angel clutched the warm covers to her chin. She scanned the shadowy room again. She hated being the only adult in the house to keep it safe from danger, robbers, murderers, or the nasty little demon-things in movies that always made her jittery, even at her age. Refusing to deal with the possibilities, she cowered under the toasty-warm blankets. Lying there, she imagined every small noise or creak was a thief. It was almost four a.m. before she finally calmed down enough to fall asleep.

~ * ~

Two days of constant fretting about that night passed before Angel gathered enough courage to investigate. It hadn’t been a dream; the explosion of sound was real and somewhere not too distant from home. She had to solve the mystery before she worried herself to exhaustion.

Besides, she had no more nail tips left. She’d chewed them all off to expend nervous tension the past days each time that horrible crashing sound replayed in her head. It was grating, a deep bone-wrenching vibration.

Paused over her morning cup of herbal tea, she stared out the kitchen window in the direction of the northern acreage of her Connecticut homestead. Ugh. Just the idea of going alone sent a prickle of fear up the back of her neck. The featherlight rhythm felt like spider legs. Angel fought the urge to reach up and see if one was really there.

Already anxious as hell, she couldn’t get the violence of it out of her mind. Trees snapped in a rapid cascade of devastation. The earth groaned deeply in complaint of impact. All of it has been so loud, yet so far away. It seemed like a soundtrack from a dramatic movie instead of reality, but the dead silence afterwards had seemed even more ominous than the noise, somehow.

Intimidated, Angel tried to think of a good excuse not to go.

She cast a glance at the calendar. Well, she had little time to explore this morning anyway. Today, her boys turned sixteen. The private family party was tonight. She had plenty of final preparations to tend.

But even this joyous event had its pain. Instead of candles topping their cake, Angel imagined sixteen miniature smoking or flaming cars in various types of fender benders and wrecks. Full of motherly fear, she gave a harried sigh. The driving years had roared up much too quickly for her. Life as a parent had been much less complicated when they were younger and still thought action figures were cool. Now she worried she might lose one of her precious boys to a moment of indiscretion behind the wheel.

Angel sipped her cooling brew.

Then, of course, Eric would be here tonight, in full faculty of his sensual charm and confident of his handsome face. Damn him.

No, damn her for not acknowledging the divorce she’d sought and won over five years ago. At some point in time, she had to stop having sex with him. But how could she? Feelings between them still ran as deep as the day they married. The love wasn’t the problem. Eric’s need to control and conquer was.

Angel drummed her ragged fingertips on the tabletop. "Well, I’ll just have to stop looking at him from now on."

"Talkin to yourself, Mom?"

Samuel Wright-Stevenson swung open the refrigerator door and grabbed his lunch, Angel’s mood brightened. "Good morning, dearest. William got up this morning, didn’t he? I know he was up until eleven thirty doing the homework he should have done when he got home yesterday," she stressed her meaning at Samuel, too. "How about I institute a new directive around this house, about losing luxuries if homework isn’t tended immediately after you two get home from school?"

Samuel’s face grew impatient. "But I’m hungry when I get home, Mom."

The back talk annoyed her, but she smiled patiently. "Forgive my error. Homework begins the moment after the usual half-hour face-stuffing feast is over. Is that better?"

Samuel smiled briefly, nodding. "Yeah."

"Do you suppose taking away car privileges might provide ample incentive to obey my rules, or should I just break down and tell your father about this?"

Samuel clicked his tongue. "Okay, Mom. When we get home. From now on."

Angel laughed softly. "Want to earn a couple of extra bucks?"

"I do, I want to buy another game this week," announced William Wright-Stevenson as he cruised into the room in a carbon copy performance of his brother, heading for the fridge for his lunch. "What do I have to do?"

Angel admired her strapping sons. Already they stood nearly eight inches taller than her. Will had fifty-nine pounds on her, Samuel, fifty-one. They were almost as tall as Eric now.

"Use the tractor and move the half cord of wood by the barn door to the back porch, and put part of it next to this hearth. Well, I suppose you could use the truck. Last winter when I offered the same job, you couldn’t drive."

"All I got was a rap about losing the car privileges," Samuel complained. "Why does he get to do it?"

"Because you were too slow to accept the job, loser," William quipped brightly for a boy who’d only had six hours sleep.

Angel eyed Samuel. "Do you have a low blood sugar problem we should have checked by your doctor? Each morning the past month you’ve been super crabby."

"I’m fine, Mom." He headed towards the hall door, grumbling, "Love you, bye."

Will rushed over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Mom, I love you."

"I love you both. Hope school’s cool," she quipped.

She listened until the front door closed. Satisfaction thrummed through her. They were polite, respectful boys. While they’d inherited every bit of Eric’s dark and striking good looks to the point of looking like clones, they demonstrated the Wright happy demeanor and even temperament. Well, usually.

Suddenly, Angel noticed the silence of the house. Her smile faded. Jittery, she downed her tea on one long pull. She hurried to the key cabinet and plucked off the jeep’s keys. Tucking them into her bra, she pulled on her suede coat and shrugged it over her shoulders. What she wouldn’t give right now to have the Stables in full operation, buzzing with activity and hired help. She could have a manager or a hand join this investigation. Life here hadn’t seemed right ever since she shut the family business down. Instead of bolstering her confidence by driving through the busy compound on her way to the quarries today, she’d pass through a ghost town of barns and outbuildings. Creepy.

Angel put her cup in the sink and headed toward her bedroom. Rifling through her underwear drawer, she felt the heavy metal firearm in her hand. She recited a small prayer and slid the gun into her inner coat pocket.

Once past the deserted stable compound, Angel steered her Jeep right at the forked gravel road. To shorten the trip, she headed off the main road at the end of the old alfalfa fields and took the dirt bike trail she and her sons used on weekends. Mindful of the pristine paintjob on her vehicle, she navigated around tree branches instead of scraping by them. She turned right at the next fork, then steered back onto a well-traveled dirt road. The knot in her stomach tightened. The quarry turn was next.

"Better not be Jones again." She’d caught the thief poaching Garnets and Tourmaline from her mines last year. The small battle over land rights in Superior court had been just. $9000 in cash settlement for the gem rough he’d managed to market, complete ownership of all the cut gems already in the jewelry stores, all those still stored in the raw, and $3000 in punitive damages. After all, this had been Wright land since 1701, what other decision could there have been?

But nah, Jones never mined in the wee hours of the morning; and he used a pick and shovel, not dynamite.

Angel braked at the scenic overlook and looked down over the naked treetops at the quarry.

What the heck… What was that mess down there? Metal pieces of all sizes were scattered through the small parking area. She strained her eyes to make out the big picture. Wow. Something really did happen the other night. Inspired, she took her foot off the brake.

Parking in the middle of the deserted lot, she sniffed the cold February breeze that gusted through the open window and shook the car. Crows railed at each other in the distant woodland and the sunlight emerged from behind quick-moving patches of puffy white clouds. Despite the idyllic scenario, tension tightened her shoulders.

Before she stepped out of the Jeep, she glanced in all directions, swallowing hard. As she walked toward a patch of debris, a cold wind blasted in her face. Oooh. She shivered and fastened the top three buttons of her coat.

She stared down at the mess. Big shards of whitish metal, blackened by flame, lay half buried in the frozen ground as if they’d been there all winter long.

But they hadn’t.

Last December, she’d taken a perfect seven-foot Cedar tree from the corner of the lot as one of their Christmas trees. None of this had been there then. Behind her, a squirrel scurried along the leaf-littered ground near the bushes. Skittish already, she spooked when the wind whistled through the nearby open mine tunnel. Angel exhaled sharply, annoyed by her easy cowardice.

She wouldn’t run away like a frightened little girl the way she always wanted to in tough situations. Taking that first step, she listened to her boots crunching across the frozen gravel, and focused on friendly sounds. She stopped at another large chunk of tattered metal and toed the ravaged edge that stuck up. Small flecks fell off, making a slight tinkling sound as they hit the ground. She grimaced and squatted down, smoothing her gloved fingers lightly over the surface. Expecting to see smears of black ash on them, Angel puzzled more at the pristine clean appearance. Very strange stuff.

Senses keen, she looked skyward at the high wispy cirrus taking over more of the clear blue. A cold front was moving in. Angel stood and sniffed a deep breath of the crisp fragrance-free air.

Snow was coming. The forecast said so. Possibly six inches.

Angel glanced over her shoulder at her Jeep. Though it was only fifteen feet away, the distance seemed more like a mile. Then her gaze strayed over it at the hill beyond. Her mouth dropped in awe.

A whole swatch of trees had been snapped off just into the woods beyond the stream, just as she remembered hearing. But what had impacted the earth?

Nervous, she pressed her arm over the hidden bulk of her gun for courage, and headed towards the unnatural clearing. At the stream, she mounted a tall boulder the water had cut around for centuries. She surveyed her new perspective.

About a hundred feet in front of her was the point of impact. Dirt and earth formed a big mound circling a wide crater in the side of the hill. Angel turned her eyes skyward again and imagined a meteor ripping through the atmosphere.

But meteors left stone and mineral debris, not metal.

Mesmerized by the great cavity, Angel couldn’t recall any news stories about any downed craft, and she’d paid closer attention to the news and papers the past days.

Then a horrible thought raced through her mind. "Supposing someone was in whatever this metal trash once was?"

With a quickstep pace she moved towards the treeline. What if she found a body? Circling around the big hole, she eyed the wreckage for identifying signs but there was only scraps left. And those were so destroyed she couldn’t even imagine what shape the object had been.

Daunted, she broke into a slight sweat and unbuttoned her coat to let the winter wind cool her off.

Maybe this was a fallen satellite. One of the hundreds orbiting the planet. Lower flying planes usually left evidence of what they were, even when the pieces were scattered over a large area, didn’t they? Whatever this was, it had been obliterated, obviously plummeting from much higher in the atmosphere. Only by the grace of God could someone have survived the crash.

Angel hiked along an animal path through the trees and stopped in a small valley streamside. She considered the old fallen oak in front her. Save wading in the frigid water or hopping along the miserly scattered rocktops sticking out from the icy surface, this natural bridge was her only choice. Fortunately, it wasn’t frosty.

She teetered precariously on the wide bark surface before she found her balance. Staring down into the flood flat, Angel’s heart skipped a beat when she saw more wreckage. Half-buried under the packed fall leaves in the overflow ditch, singed hair, a bloody, crusted face and wide shoulders peeked out like a macabre mystery.

Angel loosed a wordless sound.

After a few moments of mindless gawking, she finally conquered fear with compassion. She climbed down, instantly sinking to her knees in the damp leaf debris piled high by the fierce rainstorm winds and flooding last week. She fought through the chilly mess.

Oh god, this poor, poor person. She brushed away some of the loose leaves to uncover the charred and battered victim.

This man had suffered terribly before he died. Guilt weighed heavy on her. Maybe his death was her fault for not checking sooner, for surely, to end up nestled in this icy grave, he’d crawled from the wreckage a fair distance away.

But Angel had seen death at her father’s wake six years ago. Lifelike color, pale as it was, still existed here. She waded closer, but took one sniff and grimaced. The smell of old blood and new blood wafted upwards on the slight breeze.

Angel chose the cleanest spot on the tattered arm of the blackened jacket and pushed with two fingertips to stir up some life.

The victim groaned in torture. Shocked, she jumped backwards a few feet and fell on her rear when her legs sank in the thick leaves again. Angel welled with sympathy for his obvious agony.

She should go get help. Her first aid experience was limited to Band-Aids and ankle-wraps. But there was no time. It was amazing this man had survived winter exposure this long.

Digging through the layers of leaves to expose his full form was hard work. "You’re not only a wide man, but you’re very tall, too," she said between gasps of air, hoping to rouse his attention.

No response.

She lifted up his blood-crusted hair enough to look underneath. Strands of it came off and stuck to her fingers. Disgusting! She shook her hand furiously to get it off.

Glazed copper eyes opened. Angel gasped, leaning away. How odd. The unusual metallic color of them sent a creepy feeling up her spine.

"Hello, I’m Angel," she croaked.

"Angel take to Edin."

His accent was so gut forced and thick she almost didn’t understand him. "I’m not an angel, I’m Angel and I guess it’s no wonder you’re delirious." She lifted his hair again and held the partially frozen mass back. "Who are you? Where are you from?"

"Have mercy. Humans savage." He shivered from the strong wind that blew through the ditch.

Angel yanked her arm back in surprise. Humans savages? Humans? Another breeze forced his rancid smell up her nose. She cupped her hand over it like a surgeon’s mask. "Whether you’re crazy or not, I have to get you out of here before the snow comes. Can you walk?"

"Edin."

Angel stifled her annoyance. Clearly, the man was used to being in charge. "So there is still some strength left in you after a couple days of New England winter. Who are you?"

"Gian to Edin, angel."

Angel’s jaw clenched. Have patience…. "Your accent sounds like bad French, and grunty Neanderthal. I have to get you to a hospital. Let me help you up…Gian…did you say?"

She tossed her long hair over her shoulder, and grasped his destroyed jacket and pulled firmly upwards. He hissed in agony through his teeth. Angel forced the issue and dragged him out of the leaves. Once he was lying outstretched, Angel noted his clothing was charred all the way down to his boots, but was still mostly intact. A vision of him engulfed in flames flashed through her mind. Goodness, now that she’d found him alive, would he stay that way?

Glancing around at the surrounding woodland, Angel whimpered. So far from any help, they might as well be lost in Siberia.

"I’m sorry I’m not an angel because if I were, I could heal you instantly. Instead, we are going to have to do this the hard way. I’m small and you’re big, so you’re going to have to help me. Now get up!" She yanked on him. "To the hospital with you."

"No! Not abandon to primitives." His hand reached out to her, but it fell short, as if his strength was nearly gone.

"Be reasonable, you must see a doctor. That’s all there is to this matter," she announced, aware of the tremble in her strong speech.

"Not doctor."

Angel clicked her tongue. How could a man so near dying have the presence of mind to be issuing orders, anyway? "You aren’t from this planet, are you? That’s why you won’t see a doctor, right?" A sense of panic raced through her blood. "You’re a fool to put your life in my hands!"

Fevered copper eyes lifted to hers. The knowing glint there dragged a dramatic breath out of her. "You think I’m going to let you die in my care? Oh, I hate you already!"

Angel wiped away angry tears and plotted the easiest path to the Jeep. "An alien. A suicidal alien dropped on my land. Oh my god." She strangled off a sob before it surfaced. Angel squatted down and stared deep into those alien eyes. "Maybe you like the idea of death, but I can’t leave you here so you can fulfill your morbid wish. And since a doctor isn’t an option, that means you’ll suffer through seventeenth century type care as my patient. I don’t care where you come from, how presumptuous you are to give up before you’ve walked the whole path the Lord put you on. Now get up."

They made a sloppy team. Angel ignored him as a person and thought of him as an oppressive weight she could barely hold up. Wedged under his right arm, she replaced the support he couldn’t seem to provide himself on his right leg. She’d always been strong for her size, but this was the test of her life. She stumbled along with drunken steps. Perspiration rolled down her pounding temples despite the cold day. Ten feet from her vehicle, she was huffing and puffing for air.

Maneuvering him into the passenger seat was impossible without shoving and yanking. Angel fretted over his weakening moans. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry." She patted the air in front of him in desperate little motions as if to wave away his pain. "Your thigh is broken, no question about it."

Angel sensed he was trying to quietly endure by the time she lifted his heavy, swollen leg into place. "I’m so sorry." She nudged his leg further in so she could close the door without hitting it. Staring through the window at him through tear-blurred eyes, she had to appreciate his inner strength. Would she be so silent if she were the one in such torture?

She scurried around the jeep and launched into her seat.

~ * ~

Angel chose the easiest, smoothest road home, but even that one jostled them roughly. He muffled most of his pained noise. She ached with empathy. Just looking at him, she had to assume his body was screaming in agony from his injuries.

She halted at the clearing of the lawn. Gripping the steering wheel until her knuckles went white, she scouted the entire area. Good. No visitors were in the parking lot or stopped in the circle by her house.

Casting a nervous glance at the patient, she gasped to find blind eyes staring at her. "Are you awake?" Sure she was speaking to a dead man, Angel imagined that all the violence of movement to get him into the car had sent lethal infections racing through his bloodstream.

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath before his lids sagged shut. Ambivalent, Angel gave a giant sigh. She didn’t want him dead anymore than she wanted him alive.

Dropping her forehead to the steering wheel, she moaned. She only allowed herself a moment to mourn. A life was at stake here.

Angel drove on and parked as close to her back door as she could get without driving on the lawn. She hurried around the Jeep and began the awful struggle to get him inside. Using every fiber of power she had not to destroy the house in the process, they knocked into a small table in the hall anyway. An antique crystal vase smashed on the floor. Angel growled. Keep your perspective. His life is more important than a priceless three-hundred-year old family heirloom.

She lost hold of him once, thankful there was a perfectly placed Boston chair for him to slump into. Quickly she yanked him to his feet and managed him into her private bathroom. She steered him into the tub. Her knees crashed into the hard rim. She cursed under her breath.

When Gian crumpled, Angel barely managed not to collapse under his weight. Giving one last surge of power, she aimed and guided him in, then promptly fell in on top of him. Her cheek smeared against his damp, crusty chest. Angel silenced a shriek of disgust and righted herself, swiping the forearm of her new suede jacket across her cheek. "Gross!" She yanked it off and threw it in a heap on the floor.

At the linen cabinet, she grabbed an armload of towels and washcloths and dumped them at the edge of the bath. Angel assessed his burned, tattered clothing and turned to retrieve her sharpest hair trimming scissors from the mirror shelf.

Coiling her long hair in a tight bun, she jammed in the teeth of her clip. When Gian shivered violently, Angel pursed her lips at the next concession and turned up the thermostat twenty degrees.

She pulled the showerhead down and adjusted the hot and cold faucets until the water was tepid. Weapon in hand, she breathed deep for courage. "Prepare yourself, I have to clean you up."

The only sensible place to start was at the top. Angel gently pushed his head against the wall and aimed the stream on his hair. Massaging the stiff stuff carefully between her fingers, she discovered that it was a very odd shade, much like the coat of a chestnut horse. Judging from the uneven lengths and chunks falling out in her hands, fire had styled it for him.

She eyed his red, blistered face. He really needed a doctor!

Angel forced herself to calmness and masked the shower stream with her hand, managing a gentler trickle. The warm water amplified the smell of burnt skin and moistened old blood. Stomach gripping, she swallowed hard against the urge to retch and rinsed him as thoroughly as she could.

Taking a moment’s rest, she assessed her work so far. She traced her fingertip along his extremely low hairline. How unique. His hair grew straight up and then curled over. Following the longest chestnut strand, she saw it reached his shoulder. Surely, he wasn’t going to be pleased to have had his hair shortened so radically.

Angel dropped her arm and stared down at the next part of her work. She blew out a nervous breath and picked up her scissors, eyeing his ripped up clothes. "Oh dear." Fortunately, he was unconscious again.

The material of his jacket and pants were surprisingly tough. She had to hack at them. Pulling away the cloth, she blushed furiously when his private area became exposed. But her eyes were drawn to the differences there. Beyond the head of his penis, two extra, evenly spaced ridges continued halfway down the shaft and the rest of the length waving around in the water had raised lines that looked like thick veins underneath the skin. She flicked guilty eyes to his face, grunting in relief that she’d not been caught gawking.

A bittersweet smile curved her mouth. So, he didn’t dye his hair...

Angel examined his inflamed thigh as much as she could through the black bruising. "Good Lord, I’ve never splinted a broken leg." His lids raised halfway. "You need a hospital."

"Trust angel." Strong shivers racked him to his toes. He groaned in torment.

Angel scowled. "My name is Angel, dammit. I’m not an angel. Get that straight, will you?"

Her anger seemed to rouse some semblance of recognition in his half-closed eyes. "Where are you from?" She pried off his burned boots. "Well? Was that a plane you crashed in, or something else?"

Angel pushed down the drain lever to let out the fetid water. He was now totally naked and mostly clean. Refilling the tub, she doused some liquid antibacterial soap into the warm water. "Well?"

"Earth horrible destination. Savages."

Angel bristled and averted her eyes. "Never mind. You said your name was Gian?"

"Gian…" He coughed violently. "D-Daushur."

"Nice to meet you, Gian Daushur. I don’t know how to help you. You’re badly burned. What do I feed you? Can you eat regular food?"

"Trust..."

"I’m glad you trust me, savage that I am, I’m just not sure you should. I’m not a nurse. I design clothes, and you, Sir, are not a piece of material that I can mend freely. You’re putting your life in my hands and maybe you think that’s fine, but I’m scared out of my wits."

Gian’s eyelids drooped as if he couldn’t hold them any higher. "Ushuatan hold life in hands."

Angel tried to imagine a name that even came close to ‘Ushuatan’. Despite her lifelong studies of religion through the ages, she couldn’t think of one. Drawing in a mighty breath, she maneuvered him out of the tub. Again, she had to practically carry him to the bed in the spare room adjoining hers. At the edge, she aimed him the best she could and let him fall back as gently as she could manage. Despite her effort not to, Angel landed on top of him.

She scurried off. At least he was clean this time.

Angel wrapped the burns on his arms and hands using all the non-stick bandages and white gauze she had. Now he needed something to wear. At the armoire, she yanked open the spares-drawer and rifled through the materials. She chose a long tunic of soft black afghan wool. "This will have to do."

Wrestling it onto his big damp body was no easy task. Angel worried he might freeze to death before she ever finished. She yanked the covers over him and clicked the electric blanket on to medium. She raised the wall thermostat to eighty degrees. Hospital rooms were always too hot for visitors, but just right for healing patients. Since Gian had been shivering for two days in the winter cold, he deserved that much.

A little wobbly, she slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Raking her wet hair out of her face, Angel dropped her head to her knee. She indulged in a short cry even though she knew she shouldn’t put off wrapping the rest of his wounds and splint his leg using her very limited medical skills. "I can’t take care of someone hurt as badly as you are. I don’t know what I’m doing!"

Though a good portion of her misery drained away with her tears, Angel felt no better. She stood and stretched stiff muscles, studying her patient as he slept. "So, your fate is in Ushuatan’s hands? Why does it seem that it’s in mine?" Angel blotted her wet stinging cheeks with a dry cloth.

Reaching underneath his blankets, she pressed the back of her fingers on his chest. Good, he was warming. "Maybe a prayer will help give me comfort and divine guidance, but Mom always taught me that the Lord helps those who help themselves."

She hoped for insight as she cleaned up the bathroom. Angel leaned on the doorjamb and studied her alien guest. Pressing her hand over her mouth to silence another cry, she closed her eyes to pretend for just a moment that this hadn’t happened to her.

"This is crazy! I’m a clothes designer, not a skin suit repairman. Why would you send him to me? Why?"

Nervous all afternoon and evening that her secret might be discovered, Angel checked the lock on the patient’s door for the third time. No one would be able to enter this spare bedroom from the hallway because she’d locked that solid and installed a hand latch, too; and now, not from this small anteroom that annexed her bathroom. She hid the key under the hollow porcelain horse on the shelf and glanced up at the clock. Nine fifteen p.m. Stepping into the hall, Angel listened for noise in the distance. She felt like a criminal in her own home. Was hiding an alien a bonafide crime?

If she was lucky, Eric would be downstairs with the boys playing with their new air-hockey table in the game room. After a day from hell, she didn’t have the will to face him. He was suspicious of her tonight, watching her every move, more carefully than usual. Having a secret extraterrestrial guest since this morning already frazzled her nerves and his scrutiny wasn’t helping matters.

Angel walked down the hall, praying for an empty kitchen. She peeked around the doorjamb, grumbling in frustration under her breath.

Eric was at the table reading the newspaper. Great.

Feigning a smile, she strolled to the stove, lifted the heavy lid of her large cast iron pot and swirled the ladle around the steaming beef-vegetable soup. Her hands shook and she tried her best to keep them steady. "The boys like their game. Did you get tired of playing?"

"Yes, they do, and no, I was waiting for you," he said, coming up behind her. "You look marvelous tonight. I like this dress." His hand slid onto her waist.

Assailed by his personal scent and the familiar warmth of his closeness, Angel stiffened when a dangerous thrill coursed through her. "Thanks." She eased out of his grasp with an agile sidestep. Reaching into the cabinet, she took down a single serving stoneware bowl and set to her work as if everything was normal.

"I brought a bottle of your favorite bubbly. Want to share it when the boys go to bed?"

"It’s too late for me to drink, Eric. I’ll just get tired."

He stood in her path to the stove, sliding one hand on the countertop. The dusky glow in his eyes sent a beckoning swirl of desire through her loins. "It doesn’t have to be alone, besides, it’s been a week. You usually can’t go that long without it."

Angel veered around him. She jammed the ladle back into the soup, irritated when an image of him naked and aroused in her bed burst through her mind with tantalizing clarity. "I can’t keep sleeping with you, Eric. What was the point of the divorce?"

"I never wanted it. So far, you’re all talk on the threat of celibacy. Not that I’m complaining. What’s with the gigantic pot of soup? Are you sick?"

"No. I’m on a diet," she lied and dumped only steaming broth into the bowl. "Remember all the times you told me I was fat? I finally believe you."

Eric sighed impatiently. "Angel, come on, I don’t want to fight. And I never called you fat. You’ve great curves and the way you squirm beneath me is just right. Now how about a glass of wine? Might relax you, you’re unusually tense."

"No." Without having to see it, Angel could feel his frown. She went to the freezer and plunked two large cubes of ice in the steaming soup. Batting at them with the spoon, she struggled to think of a way to get him to leave.

"What happened to the Jeep? The inside’s trashed on the passenger side."

Angel’s heart skipped a beat. Then her mood darkened. "Checking up on me again, Eric? To find signs of other men?"

Eric frowned. "It was parked so close to the stone path I had to walk around the rose bush. Either that, or leap over the stone wall. I found that odd behavior for you, so I looked inside." His expression grew stony. "I thought maybe the chubby carpenter messed it up on you."

Angel cocked her head in challenge. "Can I go now? I have a headache. I’d like to relax in my room. Maybe watch a movie."

Softly, he stroked the back of his fingers down her hair. "I could watch it with you."

She damned the sexual glow that burst to life inside at the suggestion. "No. You talk from beginning to end and I miss everything important, like watching a silent movie."

He huffed impatiently. "I won’t this time."

Angel gave him a quelling look. "You did come to visit the boys, didn’t you?"

"I come to see you, too," he snapped. "You’re pleased to see me when you’re burning hot. I get treated better those times than during your obvious frosty moods like tonight. I’m beginning to think you’re using me for sex, Angel."

Always a fight when he couldn’t have his way, she thought with tired annoyance. Her carpenter friend, Jeremy didn’t hassle her this way when she put her foot down on any issue. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? "Can I go now?"

Eric scowled and gave a small bow. "Far be it from me to stop you, your highness. If you change your mind, I’ll be with our sons a while longer, unless that would displease you tonight for some reason."

Angel bit her tongue. Balancing her tray, she hurried down the hall. Once she shut her door, several unladylike curses flowed off her tongue. Why did she always feel like the bitch that he subtly hinted she was? Because he’s a controlling ass, that’s why, Angel reminded herself. That’s why I divorced him... But then again, she was nicer to him when she was…

She stared down into the cooling broth, giggling perversely. Eric had one good quality that her guest didn’t, too.

At least Eric was human.

She rolled her eyes. An alien fell from the sky and broke his body when he landed on her property. An alien! Of all things to beset her with. Her life had just become Movie of the Week.

Crossing quietly through his room, she slid the tray on the nightstand. Only two of her fingers fit on the narrow space between Gian’s singed brows and low hairline.

She frowned and withdrew her hand. Too warm again. What if he did die? She envisioned herself with shovel in hand, choosing a place on her land to bury his body. How was she supposed to live with that? Or even get away with it?

"Wake up. If you’re going to run a fever, you’ll need constant liquid intake."

Gian fought the grogginess to obey the angel’s bossy demand. She was winsome and beautiful as he remembered her, even with that unusually high forehead. Long dark paint lashes framed her big blue eyes.

She looked as pained as he felt. "I’m scared for you. You need so much and I can offer so little. I don’t want you to die."

Gian moved his mouth to say...

"Please stop telling me that you trust me again. It doesn’t help me feel better." She sat on the very edge of the bed, at least a full arm length away. She held a spoon full of brown liquid close to his mouth. "Try this broth."

Though it was blessedly cool, the noxious taste bit at the inside of his tender mouth and made his stomach clench. He forced himself to swallow, hoping not to offend her.

She groaned. "Great. Judging from that tortured reaction, broth isn’t going to be a basic with you."

"Grateful for nourishment."

The angel gave a dismissive snort. "I’ll try something else."

Her tone was polite but laced with subtle distrust that made him uneasy. He was at her mercy and her moods fluctuated erratically.

She swirled the almost melted square of ice around in the bowl. "I’m sorry I took so long to rescue you. A lot of your suffering is my fault."

Gian blinked to clear his blurred vision. Again her mood had shifted suddenly. Intelligent eyes studied him critically. He licked his cracked lips slowly. "Blame pilot."

"Where are you from?"

Gian thought of home. A deep yearning stung worse than the horrible food she tried to feed him. "Tro^ious Acron, ninth planet orbiting white pulsar, Iliaad Community."

She stared for a moment, a dour look darkening her uniquely pretty face. "How nice. Why are you here?"

Gian was anxious of the coldly low inflection in her voice, but a wave of nausea rippled through his belly. He weathered the intense cramp. Finally, the pain subsided.

She stared at him with such a disheartened expression that he was amazed how unhappy he made her. He was probably the only wretch in the galaxy that could offend a kindly helper angel, moody or not. Yet, was he to admit that he was stranded here because he’d failed yet again? He opted for the morally incorrect choice. "Malfunction of improperly installed ships’ equipment."

"Malfunction of..." she mocked, but cut off.

She looked at him as if he had three heads. Gian swallowed hard, waiting for her to desert him now that she knew he’d just been dishonest, too.

"Do you know where you are?"

Gian looked around at the strange surroundings. Wonderfully warm, enclosed from the elements, this room was cozy. "Angel’s domain, between realms."

She gave a short, silent whistle and stood up, setting the bowl of awful soup down on the tray and moved a few steps toward a huge, cushiony…chair?. Her fingers danced nervously over the top of it. "I’m not an angel. My name is Angel. I’m a savage human and this is a spare bedroom in my home."

Her words sobered him. He should have known. Pain, hunger, cold were not characteristics of the between realms. His recollections of waking up after the crash made some small bit of sense now. He glanced around at the primitive dwelling again. Horror stole his breath for a moment. Did he really deserve this wicked punishment?

"Do you now comprehend your situation?"

Gian opened his mouth to speak but words failed him. Wary, he studied her. She was incredibly small, but he was completely immobile and defenseless.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Relax, I don’t plan to eat you for breakfast." She stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you on my world? Do you have evil intentions? I have a gun, I’ll use it."

Gun? He tried to translate the term she stressed, but without luck. "Arrival...vile accident," he grumbled, outraged to discover he was prisoner to her and her erratic moods.

She smiled unkindly. "Well, I’m not too fond of this dirty little situation either. I’m not exactly pleased to have you as a guest."

Gian swallowed the bitter taste of regret. How gravely he’d insulted her. And how badly she took it. But an apology lodged in his throat. Perhaps she was not a dirty savage living in a filthy cave outdoors, but she was so clearly stunted intellectually. He couldn’t live with that under any circumstances.

He stared at the bowl on the tray and considered his options. Exile with humans? "Choose to finish poison."

She sucked in an offended breath. "Poison! Oh, you’re horrid! If only it were. Have you any idea how hard I’ve worked to make you comfortable? And the risk I’m taking to keep you here! Especially when you could be the savage? Well, for a super intelligent spaceman from an enlightened world, you sure are a jerk without any manners!"

Her stinging appraisal humbled him. Gian stared at the bandages around his hands. At the bandages all over him. Taught all his life that humans were a race from the ‘primitives’ group, he’d simply stored the data as truth. So, if it was, why did he deserve her reprimand? Confusion and discomfort made it difficult to think straight. Gian closed his eyes. A vision of the lab he worked at, of the moment he shut the hatch of his science flyer, loomed large in his mind. If only he’d postponed his flight, or not gone at all…

Warm weather, safety and security; purpose in duty. And all of that gone.

Forever.

When he faded away and went unconscious again, Angel’s tension stood down just a bit. She stayed by the easy chair until she was sure he was asleep before she dared to move. For all her brave words, she was scared silly of him. He was hostile and rude, a lousy guest, and twice her size.

Angel shuffled to the edge of the bed, ready to jump away if he opened his eyes. A rush of wind from the snowstorm outside blasted against the windows as strongly as if someone was beating on the glass. Angel froze, weathering an adrenaline rush.

She watched the large white flakes swirl around and rubbed her arms to create some blessed heat even though it was quite warm in this room. If she’d not rescued Gian today, he surely would’ve frozen to death by morning. How awful that would’ve been for him.

Angel sighed. He wasn’t any too pleased about this situation, either. Even through the nasty burns on his face, she’d been able to make out his expression of horror once he fully understood his plight. She considered how she might feel if she were in his place--on another world because of an accident, all burned up and battered, afraid because the indigenous people were primitive.

Well, he seemed harmless, for now. She glanced at the ‘poison’ in the bowl. It wasn’t a crime not to like beef soup. Especially hers. Angel snickered. No one in her family would eat it without a battle either.

She yawned and rubbed her face roughly. Goodness, she was tired.

Underneath all the damage, was his face that much different from hers? What did a man from Tro^ious Acron look like? Well, this one had surface skin blisters, but no tissue was exposed. What was that, first degree, or third? She couldn’t remember which. Not that labels mattered much. What he needed was care.

The aloe vera plant came to mind. Supposedly, it was superior for burns. But where would she find a tropical plant in the middle of February?

She marveled at the very unhuman hue of his hair. Not only was the burnished chestnut gawk-at-it bold, but each strand was twice as thick as hers, too. But the novelty of it was squelched by a scary thought. What if he asked for a mirror to see what the fire did to it?

At this moment, that bothered Angel more than wondering if he was going to one day eat her for breakfast.

"Well, I guess I could trim it while he’s asleep? Or lose all my mirrors?" As she straightened the tray, Angel arranged the priorities for his care. First, medicine, and second, food that didn’t gag him. Grumbling at the fate of her day, she headed out the door to tend errands.

~ * ~

Early the next morning, Angel was out scavenging supplies for her extraterrestrial guest. After snapping up two aloe plants in the garden shop, she rushed off to the drugstore, yawning all the way. She’d stayed up until 2:30 cooking, and cleaning up the messes she’d made of her room, the bathroom, and his room in the search for supplies to doctor him. Then she’d gotten up at 7:00 to receive an incoming call from the manufacturer of her clothing line in Maine.

Once she was home, there was no time to slow down. Yawning, Angel steamed through the bathroom. She pushed open the anteroom door with her foot and crossed the threshold, taking a deep breath. She wrinkled her nose. Yuck, the odor of burnt skin still flavored the air. It was a terrible smell, much like someone beet-red from baking far too long in the hot summer sun. She set the tray down on the nightstand and glanced at her patient, her brows raising high in surprise.

"You’re awake. How do you feel?"

If Gian ignored the cramps in his belly, he could say: "Less terrible." He shifted, groaning when a surge of pain streaked up his leg and through his groin.

"Your fever is down this morning, but I’m worried about your leg. It’s swollen and hot. I don’t think there’s any infection, but the bone must be set, before it does it naturally. Maybe heal crooked. I don’t know how to do that, so I..."

"Hungry, Angel," he pleaded, so starved he was willing to beg for mercy.

Genuine enthusiasm lit up her face. "Oh. Well, I brought samples of foods and juices." She reached for a many compartmented tray, wielding it as if it were a great treasure. "But first, have some of this." She peeled white paper off a thin white tube and plunked it into a glass of clear liquid.

Gian understood the theory quickly and put his cracked lips to it. His first sip inspired desperate, instinctive mania. If he’d had the strength, he would’ve grabbed the glass from her, but he settled for gulping before she had a chance to whisk it away in her efficient manner.

"I guess water is universal. But you’re dehydrated and shouldn’t take too much at once. You might get sick."

Desperate, Gian sucked down all he could before she took it away from him. Cool relief trickled all the way down to his stomach. He clung to the heavenly sensation. A bit of comfort to compete with the agony.

She frowned at the empty glass. "Since I honored your refusal to not see a doctor, please try to be respectful of my wishes. Could we strike that bargain, at least? Here try a little of this."

Steeling against the horror lurking in the loaded spoon, Gian opened his mouth. Expecting to shudder in distaste, he stopped himself from swallowing the goop instead so he could savor the delicious sweetness.

"So, the applesauce is a winner, eh? Want more?"

Gian stared into her big angelic eyes. She was so delighted to have pleased him. And he’d been inexcusably rude. "Grateful."

The stiffness in her posture relaxed just a bit. With a more gentle hand, she served him the next mouthful. Gian flushed with humility. "Angel not savage."

A slight smile broke through her icy expression. Without responding, she offered a more generously filled spoon this time.

"Manners appalling, forgive."

"You aren’t going to hurt me, are you?"

She was exquisitely vulnerable, trying to trust him. "Harm Angel never."

Her entire body relaxed, except for her small delicate chin. It raised higher, stubbornly, warning him off with her forced defiance. He huffed weakly. Her bravado was entertaining, even when he felt so rotten.

While he relished the cool feast of non-poisonous food, Gian studied his host. She was the first human he’d ever seen and not at all what he’d expected. Her forehead was indeed very high, but it wasn’t unappealing, only different. And she had such very dark, excessively long hair! The ends brushed the small of her back, but it was pretty. What little clothing she wore was always restricted to two colors and was scandalously form fitting. She was extremely short in stature, and had voluptuous plumpness in unusual places. She showed mastery of compassion, intelligence and kindness. She did talk too much, said far too many words; and she had some intimidating moods and expressions, but obviously, she was not primitive. She had fully developed language skills and a sense of spirituality or else she would not have saved him. Angel was actually quite exquisite. The propaganda on humans was inaccurate.

How could that be?

The vexing question taxed his foggy brain often throughout the short but continuous feasts of blessed fluids and tasty solids she supplied in increasingly generous amounts. Tro^ians kept flawless records. But not about humans. He rested and napped, but kept his senses alert as much as he could to keep track of her comings and goings. Finally, he found the energy to open his eyes. First sight was her mincing a light green plant into a pulpy goop with a sharp, cruel looking blade.

Her knife halted in its ruthless motions. Her brows lifted at his pointed scrutiny and she glanced at her hand. "This is a medicinal plant. The paste is for your burns. I’ve never tried it but I’ve heard it’s good. Are you willing?"

"Help welcome, Angel."

She put down the blade and poked her finger at the edge of the green gel. "You’re a bit nicer today."

"Regret hostile behavior. Overwrought. Forgive," he said as benignly as he could. "Burns how bad?"

She averted her eyes and grew secretive. "They aren’t serious." She stood and came to him, watching him intently. "I should put this stuff on them, will you let me?"

Gian’s stomach churned at her too casual tone. "See," he demanded.

"I don’t have a mirror handy." She sat warily on the very edge of the bed and began applying the sticky pulp on his cheek as if it were the only activity she had scheduled. "You don’t appear to have facial hair. Is that natural?"

"See!"

Angel’s hand paused the slightest bit. "Gian, trust me. If I were you I would want to see, too. But then I might regret not giving myself time to heal."

A sick feeling spread through his chest. The angel was beautiful despite her humanness and he was a beast despite his exalted birth as a Tro^ian. "Not have facial hair," he said dully.

"You’ll heal, I say. You were in a terrible crash and almost killed. Your skin is only blistered so it should heal without scarring."

Should heal without scarring? Was that supposed to make him feel better?

Angel casually resumed her doctoring, but he could see her hand shaking. "How come you speak English?"

Gian accepted the diversion only because she wished it. He was unaccustomed to being ugly, especially around a woman. He turned his head away. "five hundred seventeen languages spoken, two thousand, six hundred, and fifty-two read. Basic study requirement by year twelve Tro^ian life. Tro^ian research data-base...comprehensive," he said with a snub. "Novia Cantapas...or Earth, and the simple languages are just a tiny, insignificant fragment of the whole Tro^ian domain.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her wipe her hands, gather her supplies, and leave in a casual hurry. The door clicked behind her. He was being inexcusably moody, but vanity was his master at the moment.

Some example of superiority he was, making this illegal contact with the people of this planet. Not only had his apparent negligence destroyed his craft, but he was a hideous sight as well. Especially when faced by her unexpected human grace.

Ushuatan punished his failures with life instead of death. To become a monster saved by beauty.

He prayed for enlightenment. Why did he survive? Time to pay his debt for being cast out of marriage because he’d failed to give his mate a child? Forced into solitary status, he’d devoted himself to work extra hard after that. He’d redesigned a revolutionary warp-flector invented by another race, and planned to add the technology to the Institute’s credits.

Gian scoffed.

He hadn’t succeeded there either, his present dilemma was proof of that. To add to his list of failures, he was facing permanent disability with his leg. Deep depression sank into his aching bones. He’d been sent to purgatory. Instead of being tended by a repulsive demon, Ushuatan provided a host that would quickly teach him what torture truly was.

~ * ~

Angel had no idea why Gian spent the next few days barely waking to eat what she practically had to force down him, and comatose the rest of the time. She was scared out of her wits that he might be dying. Staring through bleary eyes at the antique cuckoo clock on the wall over her desk, she struggled to make out the time.

Midnight.

Was it her fault that he slept so deeply? He ran a fever less and less often. Wasn’t that a good sign? Was his bad mood responsible for his decline? What had she done to cause it? Just the sight of her seemed to annoy him.

She buried her face in her arms, mourning ...I’m not cut out to be a doctor... A small sigh competed with the pop and sizzle of the fire in the hearth. After a while, the warmth and peaceful solitude calmed her. Straightening her back, she stretched her knotted muscles. Must’ve taken a catnap.

Twelve forty two am.

The crackle of paper alerted her; Angel gasped in surprise. "Eric! How long have you been sitting at the table?" She stalked to the fireplace and jabbed at the burning logs with the poker. "Don’t you have to work early in the morning?"

"What the hell is going on with you?" He raked a thick lock of his lengthening dark hair off his brow, mouthing an impatient curse at it.

Angel nearly dropped the poker when she tried to set it down. Whenever he barked this way, she got jittery, even if he was wrong. "I’m tired."

"No kidding. You’re scurrying around this place the past days like you’re keeping a secret. What are you doing?"

"Don’t start, Eric. I’m not chattel anymore, remember?"

He walked to her in deliberate steps. "Why’ve you been locked away in your room constantly?"

Angel cracked under the stress of the past days. "I don’t answer to you anymore. This is my house, remember?"

Eric’s face darkened. He took two strides closer. "You’re falling apart. Acting strangely. What affects you, affects my kids. I have rights in this matter, Angel."

Momentarily cowed, she became resentful. She felt controlled. As usual. When he tried to run his fingers through her hair, she twisted her head away.

Flame glowed in his dark eyes. "Those stains on the passenger seat in the jeep are soot and blood. From what?"

Angel swallowed hard, her mind whirling for a good excuse. "I found a hurt animal, all right? I brought it here and called the...that guy who runs the vet truck."

"Why are you being so secretive then?"

"Don’t you have a house of your own, Eric?"

"I’ve spent a great deal of time here in your bed since we divorced, Angel. I’ve come to consider this my second home."

Angel fought to keep her wits. "Yeah, well, your ability as a lover is the only worthwhile quality you have." She turned away, not daring to look back at him after a jab like that.

"I stayed up with Will working on a report he was supposed to have done last week. You haven’t been leaning on them the past few weeks like we agreed. Why is that? I can’t keep him on the honor roll by myself, Angel."

Guilt pressed down on her chest like a two-ton boulder. "I have a project and it’s none of your business, so drop it," she said with all the conviction she could muster.

"Kristen called earlier. I took the message for you. She says she missed your call last night, if you even made it at all. What’s the project, Angel?"

Fear for Gian surged through her. Too exhausted to think straight, she lowered herself into the chair and pretended to review tomorrow’s schedule. "Why do I always feel that you own me? Like a little kid, I’m supposed to answer to you. Isn’t that why I divorced you five years ago?"

His slow steps were too casual as he approached from behind. Angel tensed when he slid his hands over her shoulders and settled close. His personal scent floated on the breeze from his motion. In scandalous expectation, she closed her eyes. He massaged firmly, the way she loved it.

"You know it’s only a matter of time before we get back together. You proved your point by divorcing me and I’ve learned my lesson. But what about you, Miss private dancer?" he whispered in her ear. Applying more pressure to her tight muscles, he wrung a moan of delight from her.

"I would be miserable." Her tone was too enraptured to have the right effect.

Eric laughed. "What’s the next lie? Nothing’s changed between us over the years. To this day, even the sex is still as explosive as high yield dynamite."

"Please, if you’re going to grace me with a massage, then treat me even more and shut up."

"Fine."

When he grazed the sensitive side of her neck with a kiss, Angel growled, twisting her head to stop him from doing it again. "No!"

Eric whisked his hands off her shoulders. When she groaned in frustration, he chuckled. "I can’t touch you without becoming aroused. It’s always been a flaw of mine." A dangerous calm laced his voice. "You said you’d tell me if you started dating the carpenter."

"You never believe what I say unless it’s what you want to believe, so why bother even defending myself? You’d find a way to ruin it for me anyway."

"Angel, soon, you’ll extend another late night invite and I’ll come; and you’ll understand, again, the way you always do, that we belong together." He dragged his coat on as if it weighed a ton, shrugging it into place. "Not a day or night goes by that I don’t think about how wonderfully kinky you can get. I know you think about it, I can see it in your eyes every time you look at me. And that rawhide tie is still in your drawer. That you saved it proves how deeply you feel for me."

Angel blushed furiously, enraged and embarrassed for having been caught with such a racy relic. Her brows narrowed in suspicion. "Are you leaving?"

Eric offered a dry smile. "Going to my own home. I don’t want to fight with you. Besides, if I stay, I might ruin my mannerly record and obey the urge to crawl into bed with you. You’d wake up too turned on to refuse me, but you’d throw things at me in the morning. The boys don’t need to see that."

Was she going to get off that easy tonight? Relief soared through her when his hand rested on the door handle.

"Maybe you don’t admit dating anyone, Angel dear, but this ‘project’ has you all shook up. You’re gorgeous; whatever you’re mixed up in, it involves a man, I’m sure. But you don’t want anyone else but me, which is why you haven’t dated anyone for the past five years. There’s even a wager around town that we’ll remarry. That’s probably because of the numerous kisses you’ve given me in public, the dinners and slow dances, especially this past fall and winter. I don’t intend to lose what I’ve worked so hard to keep." He twisted the doorknob. "I love you, good night."

Perspiration dripped down Angel’s temples. Waves of heat made her sick to her stomach. He planned to spy on her. Now that she’d implicated herself with the rolling veterinarian, she’d compromised her ability to give Gian safe shelter. Eric could check out her dumb story and find out she’d lied. Why had she been so stupid?

After a brace of hours fretting over the issue of Gian’s medical care, Angel decided she was right. She would rely on old associations from her father’s stable days and call a family friend. She gave him a detailed assessment of the patient’s leg. Within two hours, he’d arrived and was bedside, working. Fortunately, the boys were at Eric’s this weekend and taking a short, business/sightseeing trip to Philadelphia, so she wouldn’t have to explain the doctor’s visit to anyone.

Doc Gerhard’s old weathered hands crawled slowly and skillfully over Gian’s swollen thigh. Angel gritted her teeth in sympathy. Gian was clearly in agony, but he bore it with courageous dignity. The bone was broken in three places and healing crooked because it hadn’t been properly set. The doc was about to remedy that.

With a somber seriousness set on his kindly old face, the doctor asked Gian, "This is going to be very painful, are you prepared?"

Gian nodded like a man in complete control, but Angel saw him steeling himself breathing deliberately, so tense he was shaking. God, he was courageous.

Dr. Gerhard finally nodded to himself as if satisfied. Angel tensed and nibbled on her fingertip. Grasping Gian’s knee with both hands, he took care to position the leg at the right angle and then pulled steadily downward.

An agonized howl burst out of Gian’s mouth. His whole body contracted as if he were having a seizure. Horrible sobbed grunts rolled from his chest unchecked.

Though Angel clamped her hands over her ears, the horrifying sound reverberated around inside her head anyway. Tears splashed down her cheeks. Guided into a chair by gentle hands, she curled up in a little ball. Angel counted three quivering growls before Gian’s next ground out. Ominous silence reigned.

The doctor shuffled back over to the bed and began arranging his rolls of gauze. "Are you going to be all right, Angel?"

She covered her mouth with a shaky hand. "I’ve never heard agony vocalized. I wish I never did," she cried, her voice breaking. "Now I’ll never forget it."

"Angelina, I’m not going to minimize his situation. While his burns aren’t that serious, there’s the possibility of infection in the numerous contusions and open wounds. A few of them are deep. I’ll clean them thoroughly again, and stitch em up. But it’s the severity of his leg injury that bothers me. Multiple breaks with a few shattered pieces. He really needs them pinned into place for a proper healing because I can feel shards of bone swimming around. He’s lost a significant three-fourths inch or so of length. Without proper setting, his thighbone may heal crooked, and definitely shorter. Without surgery to correct the damage, healing time will also take longer. We’ll be laming a healthy middle aged man. Are you sure he can’t go to the hospital?"

Agh, poor Gian. Would the bad news for the quality of his life here ever stop mounting? Solemnly, she shook her head.

"Well then, it’s settled. Expect more swelling and pain. I’ll phone in a strong painkiller, it should do the trick, but he might be somewhat disoriented. He’ll require therapy and may take months before he can walk without a cane or crutch. And when he’s walking again, he’ll have a noticeable limp."

She shrugged helplessly. "There’s no other choice."

"I’m too old for this type of active doctoring, Angel, hunching over, breaking partially healed femurs." Dr. Gerhard shifted his back, giving a small groan. "He’s had a big shock to his body and will likely sleep the rest of the day and night. The cast’ll take about two hours to finish. The cleaning and stitches, maybe a half-hour. You can use this time to nap if you want."

Angel sniffled and blotted her stinging eyes. "I’m too tired to tend chores. Too depressed to get up and do anything else. I guess I’ll just sit here and consider your offer. If you need anything more, water, towels, something to drink, let me know." She sagged deeper into the chair and pulled the cashmere afghan half hanging off the arm over her. For a while, she watched the doctor build the special, thick, stark-white cast over Gian’s thigh, but slumber slowly took her.

When she awoke, the doctor was gone and Gian slept under neatly arranged covers. Unnerved that she’d slept so deeply while so much went on around her, she swept aside the blanket and went to the bed to check on him. She watched the covers raise and lower over his chest. Overwrought, she wedged the tip her finger between her teeth and began nibbling on it.

Well, now another person knew about her guest. There was no avoiding more as time went on. Sooner than later she was going to have to introduce Gian to the boys. What bothered her most was that once she told them, they’d share the news with their father. She certainly wasn’t going to tell them to lie to Eric. Flushing with dread, she wondered how bad Eric would explode when he learned she was taking care of a man, as he predicted. Angel stifled the urge to get annoyed. She knew for certain he’d point out the fact that he’d correctly predicted it, too.

~ * ~

Gian couldn’t be roused from his constant bad dreams the next few days. Sometimes he’d nearly awaken, but would always return to troubled sleep. Was this new problem really her fault?

She wasn’t much of a nurse, but she knew that a patient’s attitude towards recovery was as important as the quality of the doctoring.

After all, from the moment they’d met at the quarry, they’d not gotten along well. The last couple of conversations they’d had before the doctor reset his leg had been pointed debates, both of them acting like paranoid racists towards each other.

She didn’t trust him because he’d been born on a faraway world.

He didn’t trust her because she was a resident savage.

An ember in the fireplace popped. She drew in a deep breath, thoughtful while she appreciated the dancing flames shimmering over the blackened logs.

At times, she was content with his silence. She didn’t have to deal with who and what he was. But as time dragged on, those vivid flashes of digging a large grave somewhere deep in the woods of her ancestral land to secretly bury Gian’s body increased until she was haunted constantly. She’d be forced to live with that horrible secret for the rest of her days?

No. This drama couldn’t end with him dying. She couldn’t bear it.

No racial differences could be that insurmountable.

Angel stood and walked cautiously to the edge of his bed, her arms crossed over each other against the chill her shivery nervousness caused. "I’m as intimidated by you as you are by me. Maybe it’s time we talked and asked some key questions of each other, try to shorten the distance between us. What do you think?"

She wasn’t surprised when eventually his lids lifted slowly. Armed with a ready glass of water, she dared to sit on the edge of the bed. "You’ve gone without food and water for several days. I don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know how a few more days of that will ravage what’s left of your strength. As you intend, I think." Angel rolled the straw between her fingers. "If you die, you’ll be free, but I’ll have live with the guilt and remorse for the rest of my life. Please have mercy on me and don’t do it. If I can learn to deal with you, you can learn to deal with me." Angel pressed the straw to his ragged lips and tried to keep her trembling hands steady.

In that second, Gian was surprised by a surge of motivation. Though she used far too many words to say it, her offer of friendship deserved a good study. Anthropology was always an interest he’d never had time for and humans certainly seemed to deserve an accurate investigation.

Gian savored the cold water sliding down his throat, expecting to instantly liven up from the liquid replenishment, but as hard as he tried, he couldn’t keep his eyes open, never mind talk to her. In her faithful way, she continued to fuel him up with drinks and solids. Eventually, he had the strength to shift his head to see her. When he did, the tight, burned skin on his face lifted with his brows in surprise.

Dressed in a long, lacy gown and matching robe, his host appeared ready for an eve of Tro^ian coupling. But her outrageously curvaceous body looked so alien in the outfit that he could hardly take the overture seriously.

At his pointed attention, she looked down at herself and became suddenly modest. She swept the lapels of her robe closed as if he were a frigid wind and hurried over to the chair nearby, slipping on a much heavier pink wrap that covered even her bare toes.

"Excuse me," she murmured. "You’ve been eating and napping for many hours now. I didn’t expect you to be so awake all of a sudden and this late at night."

Gian was relieved when the misplaced offer of intimacy was rescinded. Even if he entertained the ludicrous idea, when faced with a figure such as hers, how would he ever become stimulated?

Angel neared the nightstand tray. "Can you feed yourself some of the grapes? They’re full of nutrients, and water, too." She held out the small bowl, lowering it slowly to the bed by his hand. Once it balanced in the covers, she retreated to her chair, assessing him carefully.

"Tell me about right and wrong, and good and evil, on your world."

Gian bent his arm to deliver the small, pleasant little earth fruits to his mouth but grimaced when pain and stiffness from everywhere slowed him down. Even his teeth hurt. Gently, he pushed the berry over his sensitive lip and chewed it carefully while considering her question.

"Exists right and goodness."

She made a face. "Listen, right and goodness exist. Put the action word after the person, place or thing. You’re often inconsistent in your use of them, even in the same sentence. So, what about wrong and evil?"

"Not exist." Her dubious expression in response to that made him feel like he had three heads again.

"No evil, no wrongdoing? How can that be?"

Her utter disbelief mystified him. "Tro^ians study... dedicated..." he struggled to use her formula. "Tro^ians dedicated to study. Only."

"Who is Ushuatan? Is that your god?"

"Not god. Lifeforce of universe," he explained between grapes.

"You mean Ushuatan is a what? Honoring it is like loving yourself and everyone around you?"

He took a few seconds of time to slim down her barrage of words into a concise thought. "Acceptable."

Her mouth formed his one word answer silently. She gave a wistful smile, but quickly grew serious again. "No wrong or evil where you come from, and you maintain a sacred trust in the Lord, or Ushuatan. Maybe, we should discuss what you consider right and wrong. I would be wrong to harm you in any way. We value life and the right to keep it. What is your view of killing?"

For a primitive, she certainly was articulate and spiritual, and for a person making an overture of comradeship, her brows were knit too tightly in tension. A weak laugh puffed out on his breath. She was not all at what he’d expected. She was actually quite captivating. He’d been so busy being paranoid of her that only now he accepted she was afraid of him. He ate the last fruit and leaned back against the pillows to rest his aching muscles. "Killing wrong. Not harm Angel."

"How can your world be so perfect? Are you all scholars or something like that? So absorbed in study that you don’t have time for anything else?"

Gian warmed significantly at the title. "Scholars. Tro^ians scholars."

"I’ve given our situation a lot of thought. I’m so dreadfully afraid to have you here. You’re a secret I have to keep and I’m so worried that I won’t be able to. Already one other person, the doctor, knows that you must be kept secret. Your Ushuatan could have been kinder and sent you to a much strong protector."

Gian grew sad that she thought so badly of herself. He knew in his heart she was meant to be his messenger angel, not his protector. A lump constricted his throat. "Ushuatan did not err," he whispered, strangely upset. "Angel hospitable. Appreciate."

She averted her eyes. "You’re welcome."

As rude as he’d been, she was still willing to sacrifice even more to make him comfortable. And he’d always be a burden now that he was exiled here. "Ship destroyed say Angel."

"Angel says." She nodded in earnest. "Yes, and I’m sorry to say so. There’s only pieces of it scattered everywhere. You’re lucky to have survived. Your people will be looking for you, won’t they?"

Pain stabbed through Gian’s gut. "Experimental equipment send ship too far off trajectory, flung across the galaxy. Not find. Lost forever." He waited to see the compassion he needed so badly.

"I’m so sorry." She rested her hand gently on his forearm before withdrawing it. "That means, simply, that you’ll have to forgo useless fretting and to learn to fit in here. Though, if you’re used to flying spaceships around, I don’t know how easy that’s going to be."

"Not used to flying spaceships around," he said glumly. Being a pilot had been a one-time deal, he’d been honored to be the one to test the redesigned warp-flector in actual flight. His fellow Tro^ians were no doubt questioning his abilities now, again. Gian exhaled heavily. And now he had to learn to ‘fit in’ with humans?

Ushuatan was punishing him. Took away everything he’d ever had. Not even his clothes remained. Even most of his hair was gone. What horrors would this new life hold for him?

"It won’t be so bad, Gian, I promise. I’ll help you as much as I can." She gave a small, bittersweet smile. "I also worry about other things, such as vaccinations? We have nasty diseases here that kill people. Though you seem quite hardy, clearly, you aren’t immortal. As far as fitting in, I’m sure you could work for NASA with what you know, but you’re going to have a hard time getting the job without legal residency. We’ll have to discuss options for that later sometime. If you want, I could buy you a computer. I’m online and who knows what you could accomplish from there. I don’t know what else I could offer you, I design clothes for a living, and other than that, there is only reopening the stables. And I can’t imagine you being happy doing that."

Her barrage of rapidly spoken words confused his tired brain. But he saw her focus shift towards the other end of the room when she said ‘stables’, though, he wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Even her body motioned subtly in that direction. All those words and the only one with any personal meaning to her was that one.

"Stables?"

A gentle shine came to her large eyes. "I kind of like your accent. You speak from your stomach, gives your words a slower, more forceful effect," she murmured sweetly. Then her smile faded. "Anyway, this house has been in my family since the founding pair of Wrights, Daisy and Joshua, built it in 1702. The Wrights have bought and sold livestock, horses, mules, and oxen since our opening, then in 1806, we went all horses. In 1855, we began specializing in a new breed, the Morgan. And so it’s remained since then. Five years ago, after Daddy died, I closed down, regretfully, ending a very long tradition. But I have my own business and sons to raise. I couldn’t handle the stables, too. I miss it very much though." His messenger angel sighed deeply, a sad, contemplative sound. "Maybe one day, when the time is right, I’ll be able to oversee its operation. It’s a tradition I want to pass onto my sons, the way it’s been done for so many generations. I can’t end the tradition, I just can’t."

Gian was impressed. This ‘primitive’ world had a rather advanced work ethic. "Understand tradition. Gian Director of Space Institute, as with father, and father before." He felt sick to think how he ended succession for his own particular branch of the family line because of his infertility. Different circumstances, same result. Maybe Ushuatan gave him this chance to earn merits in his behalf by helping her with her similar problem.

"You’re used to being the guy in charge? Why am I not surprised," she said dryly and stood. Walking to the hearth, she poked at the fire with the jagged hook end of a long thin pole, sending glowing sparks and crackling embers in all directions. She crossed the room again, to the door this time, and retrieved an extra-large, thin notebook off an ornate wooden table against the wall. Tucking it under her arm, she headed back. While he watched her, Gian noted that her pace slowed dramatically the closer she came towards him.

"What be horses?"

She stopped at the chair, smiling. "Hhhoorrses," she mocked his ‘accent’, saying the word from her stomach. She warily eyed him and the edge of the bed again. "What are horses? They are delightful four-legged animals that can be ridden, used for work, and make wonderful companions."

Her rapid fire of words forced Gian to pause and translate. Then his eyes widened. "Beasts?"

She laughed at him outright. "Yes, I suppose. We’ve called them beasts of burden at times. But they have awesome personalities and make very loyal friends. And a tidy profit when they’re high class."

Thank Ushuatan he hadn’t spoken outloud about his decision to serve her. Gian considered aborting the idea. "Picture!"

"Of a horse?"

She radiated happiness. Twirling on one foot, she bustled to a crowded bookshelf in an alcove built around a set of windows. Without the slightest pause to select one, she plucked down one of many thick manuals. She had it open and ready by the time she reached his bed.

"There, this is a picture of a Morgan Stallion. A male. Isn’t he beautiful? His name was Region’s Royalty. Kind of a tongue in cheek name, because my great grandfather was sure when this one was only a foal that he’d be a high-class stud. In his time, which began in 1939, he was the prize-winning stud. His reign lasted fifteen years. This book here, volume forty-seven, is the official stud registry from 1935 to 1940. These are usually kept at the Stables in the manager’s office, but after I closed, I brought them all up here for safekeeping."

Gian stared at the beast in shock. An animal! He’d never seen one of these, or any other creature in his entire life. Beasts didn’t exist on Tro^ious Acron. And now, Ushuatan... An incredulous grumble rolled up his throat.

She frowned and withdrew the book; cradling it possessively in her arms. "It’s so sad that you’ve never had the chance to work with ‘beasts’. Might teach you a thing or two about how wondrous they really are. After all, Ushuatan made animals along with humans and Tro^ians, so He must think us all worthy of love and kindness." She turned up her nose and walked away, lovingly sliding the manual back into its place amidst the countless others stocked on the full shelf.

Gian stifled his irritation. She made it so easy to refuse. Or not offer, rather. But she’d done so much for him already that he had no choice, whatsoever. And her bravado, whether faked or real, was quite entertaining. A small bit of humor spread inside him.

"Help with horses. Reopen stables for Angel."

She whirled around, her long hair settling all around her a few seconds after she stopped. "You would? Oh, no way, you’d be miserable. You’re a snob who thinks working with animals is best left for savages." Her nose raised a little more.

"Repay. Qualified to supervise operation. And..." he cut off, a painful memory of the Institute at home flashing through his mind. "Need duty."

"But you’ll hate it. No. It’s not a good idea. You redesign ‘warp-flectors’. Animals require personal attention and affection to flourish. Thank you, but no. It’s not a job for you." She shook her head emphatically.

Her rebuff hurt. "Think not able to learn?"

"Now, don’t get all dejected. I didn’t say that you weren’t intelligent enough to do the job, but a man must be content with his work, especially with horses. I couldn’t stand having you around if you hated what you did day in and day out. And neither could they."

The pain she’d inflicted was whisked away like a fragrance in a sharp wind with that wordy apology. Angel would excel as an emissary.

Gian caught her eye before he spoke. "Angel give much, Gian return much. And have contentment, if for only that reason."

The corners of her mouth curved up, her eyes twinkled. Half expecting she might explode and leap around the room, Gian welled with appreciation. This ‘savage’ human was exquisite, a treasure rather than a being to escape at all costs.

Angel considered him for a moment. Then she darted to the big chair and grabbed her large, thin notepad. Without her usual caution, she sat next to him on the bed, and this time, at his side. Her soft hair splayed across his arm and hand. He marveled at the incredible striking darkness of it against his bandages. Tro^ian hair ranged from white, to his, the darkest, a medium auburn. He’d never imagined hair could be so dark, or eyes so blue.

"I’ve been busy sketching from memory, the cut and style of the burned and tattered clothes I sliced off you. I’d like you to approve of these before I have them patterned and sewn. This is how I perceived the layer under your outer suit."

Gian absorbed the details of the drawing she thrust under his nose. He frowned at the headless figure wearing well sketched, detailed, colored clothing. Comforted by the figure’s lack of hands and feet, Gian hoped she hadn’t left his face off because she didn’t want to torture him about his ugliness. He eyed her with meaning. "Angel perceives underclothes."

"Underclothes? You wore all that as underclothes?" Her brows crinkled and she leaned closer to see the image.

At first, her wonderment amused him; then another picture painted graphically in his mind. Embarrassed warmth rushed to his face.

And she knew at this moment, that only now he realized she’d seen him naked. A pink blush tinged her cheeks and she looked away, her teeth clamped down on her plump lower lip.

As usual, she rescued him from the drama by ignoring the tense moment. "So do you approve of this final sketch? And what of this one, the outer layer?"

When she tossed the thick page back, the rush of wind blew her subtle aroma along with those of paper and pencils into his face. Though his scorched nostrils could barely detect differences in smells, her special, fresh fragrance was already imprinted on his brain. Not sure why, Gian rested his head back on the pillows without studying her pictures any further.

"Angel decide clothing. Require uniform for work at stables."

"Uniform? Really? Humm." Big blue eyes bored into his. "I think you could like the job if you were willing to think of the horses as friends, instead of...beasts. And as manager, you’d be very busy with the ledgers and accounts, a thousand different types of inventory. That’s very detailed work and requires a keen eye and patience. I have countless manuals and records on all aspects of the business, perhaps you should read those first before you commit."

"Not necessary. Decision made."

Her dark brows knit. "You keep in mind that I’m the owner and you’d be my manager, my employee. I don’t care if you are used to being the boss where you come from, I don’t like your unpleasant tendency to override my judgment."

To support her bold stand, her chin raised in that way of hers again, but that part was feigned. Rather than to find her outbursts of defiance tedious, Gian respected her courage because she worked hard to train herself to be brave. And perhaps it was her incredible smallness that filled him with the urge to protect her. The exact opposite of a Tro^ian woman, Angel was spirited and truly breathtaking to behold. He conceded his loss and said nothing at all.

Angel calmed, but she didn’t completely relax. After she stood, she examined her drawings intently for a moment as if in deep thought, but he knew by the slightly bewildered softness on her face that she was gathering her wits.

"Umm, would you like something to eat?"

"Please."

Angel dropped her sketchpad into the chair and went to the tray on the nightstand. "You liked the turkey stew, would you like more? It’s cooled perfectly now the way you like it."

"Please." She used the small ladle to fill the bowl she had nested in the palm of one shaking hand. Though she seemed collected, he could easily see her signs of stress. She licked her lips, swallowed more than normal, slowed her breathing purposely. Her body was stiff. Even if the issues they argued over concerned the quality of his life, he supposed he should stop being so autocratic with her. She responded to that treatment with unusual venom.

"You’re being very quiet," she said, delivering a bowl to his waiting hands. "Is the pain coming back? I wish those painkillers worked. I can’t believe they don’t do a thing for you. Thankfully, Ramona’s herbal teas do. I have some brewed and ready."

After all of his bad behavior, still she offered her loyal services. "Not need tea yet." A good dose of humility surfaced. "Show bad manners. Forgive. Overwrought."

Her patient’s apology, one of dozens so far, said a lot about him. "I think I’m getting used to your Spartan manner of speech. You don’t use any pronouns, or a subject if you’re speaking about yourself." She offered him an understanding smile. "There’s no need to apologize any more, really. We’re both uncomfortable and paranoid."

"And why is that?" asked a low, dangerous voice from the doorway she’d forgot to lock behind her.

An adrenaline rush catapulted Angel to her feet. "Eric! You scared me half to death. Couldn’t you have knocked?"

"And interrupt this cozy scene? Then you’dve accused me of bothering you. I can’t win." He strode into the room, the long lapels of his coat flaring out from his aggressive pace. Stopping at the edge of the bed, he jabbed a pointed finger at Gian. "What the hell is this?"

Angel’s eyes darted at Gian. "This is my guest," she began to explain, then she frowned. "No, wrong response." She jabbed her finger back at Eric, forcing bravado into her manner. "What the hell are you doing sneaking around my house at ten o’clock at night?"

"Will forgot his history book, so here I am." Eric’s eyes raked down her and back up. He raised his brows. "I told you that your strange behavior had to do with a man, didn’t I?"

Angel sighed. She knew he’d say it. "This is my house. I’m not committing a crime by playing nurse. We’re safe, as you can see, he’s in no condition to harm us. The cast is obvious, or do you suspect him of faking the injury?"

Eric seemed foiled how to cow her again, so he turned on Gian.

"You know what, Eric? I want you to back off." Angel stepped a few inches away from him, too exhausted to care what he thought tonight. "I’ve been working hard to keep my guest healthy and you’re staring down at him like a bull scraping his hoof on the ground in challenge. Move to a decent distance, and that isn’t a request. Come back in the morning, we’ll talk then."

"For christ sakes, why isn’t he in the hospital? He sure looks like he could use one."

Angel cringed for Gian at the heartless observation. "Talk tomorrow. Do you understand?"

"You think I’m leaving here without an explanation for having this...person here? How do you know he’s not a criminal? Because he told you he wasn’t?"

"Eric! Leave me alone, go home, take care of the boys, after all, you’re supposed to be with them, aren’t you?"

He gave her a crooked frown. "Spare me, Angel. They’re sixteen. They can do without me for an hour."

"Fine, but go away anyway. In the morning, if you still feel the need, you can come back and confront me about my right to have guests in my home. I mean, what do you care, as long as he’s not my lover, right?"

"Cute, Angel. Fine, I’ll go, but expect me tomorrow. I’m going to clear my morning schedule just to discuss this matter. After all, since you’ve refused to give me one scrap of information about him proves there’s a story behind his appearance. If you don’t have decent answers, I’ll call the police to have him checked out, for the boys’ safety. And yours."

"Okay. Go home now, Eric." Too her utter shock, Eric backed off, slowly, towards the door. His eyes were flared with aggression, his mouth thin and tight, but he managed himself over the threshold.

Because she told him to.

Soaring with a sense of victory, Angel broke into a smile when Eric stalked out her bedroom door and disappeared. He uttered a foul curse and some threat she couldn’t make out under his breath as he strode down the hall.

She did it! Stood her ground, and won the battle. Her small giggle filled the silence.

But a vision of Eric returning in the morning squashed her good feelings. Angel’s smile drooped to a frown. How lovely that would be to deal with just after dawn tomorrow.

She offered Gian an apologetic smile. "Tonight we have to agree on a sensible story that will explain you to everyone and I don’t have a lot of ideas. Whatever we come up with, its maiden flight is in the morning with Eric. We must hope to be very clever for he’ll be ready to pounce on any inconsistency. Your safety depends on it."

The remainder of winter had been very strenuous. Gian needed minute by minute care. She’d never known a person so close to death and so critically dependent on her.

Along with his extensive burns and shattered leg were the horrible deep bruises all over his body that stayed black and inflamed for nearly a month before they began to show signs of healing. Disabled by them, he could barely move his arms to eat without tremendous pain.

She was exhausted. Needing personal time, Angel leaned against the shovel, eyes closed, an easy smile plastered across her face. From a clear sky, the May sun shone down warmly. Birds warbled from every tree and bush; the breeze was gentle and brought an added ‘bonus’, the faint smell of manure from down the road.

Opening her eyes a little, Angel looked up, staring into the cloudless expanse.

Miles and miles and miles of sky, and he’d experienced the whole plunge awake. God, he was brave. But then, Gian was very stoic; losing control was undignified, unprofessional, unpardonable.

By spring’s beginning, their unique situation had bettered. He could finally tend his own needs, even maneuver that heavy cast to the chair pushed close to the bed. There, he devoured every book she gave him, reading the entire supply in this 300 year-old house. The entire supply! The man’s brain was as efficient as her computer hard drive. After he’d read the very last one, an old book she’d found stuffed in the back of a cabinet, she’d become a regular at the local bookstore. But it was not a chore she minded for her quiet friend.

Watching him read was a lesson in humility. A very technical journal of three to four hundred pages would take him less than four hours to finish. Occasionally, during his break, she’d pick it up, flip to a page and ask him what was on it. Word for word he would recite it. Even three days later. Angel had to smile at the mega-power of his Tro^ian brain. Gian privately enjoyed her amazement and she supposed boosting his lagging self-esteem was a small reward to give him even if it was humbling to admit how smart he was.

Life with her alien patient was growing more and more pleasant, too. The recent weeks revealed a whole new man. One who’d become impeccably mannered because his nerves weren’t frayed from constant aching pain. One hard at work learning about his new life and not hating it anymore because he was no longer bored and bedridden. A man kind, thoughtful, and driven solely to better himself. Gian was a deluxe-model template for how all men should behave.

Angel sighed. No time to daydream. Too much work had to be done. She straightened up and surveyed her small flower garden plot. Weed vines were curling around the bases of her French lilac bushes, even winding up the slender trunks and spreading awkward tendrils that hung like long fingers outside the dark green leaves.

The crunch of car tires over the stone and gravel of her driveway drew her attention. She rested her chin on the top of the shovel’s handle again. A small red Miata stopped behind her Jeep. A leggy, tall, slender blond in sexy high heels and a perfectly-tailored business suit got out and shook her free-flowing shoulder length-hair in the breeze like a shampoo commercial.

Kristen Bernard followed the stone path to this side of the house and stopped in front of her. "Hi, Angel. Don’t we look sexy today in a vest top? Ah, but then, if my chest was overly blessed like yours, I’d wear that, too." Smiling, she held out a packet Angel was expecting. It was chock full of orders and invoices for her spring line. "The work I said I’d be bringing by, boss."

"Don’t have any free hands."

"I don’t blame you for not wanting to work." Kristen tucked the large mailer back into her leather tote bag. She sniffed the next breeze and grimaced delicately. "The day isn’t complete until you’ve waded around in manure?"

"This isn’t manure, it’s compost. The pungent manure smell is coming from Henderson’s Dairy down the road. How’s your day?"

"I’m paid well, but I’m overworked lately. Since you’ve been working here at the house, files have been piling up on me at the office. We need an assistant to handle orders from the shops that bid for your new fall line. If you don’t like that, you can cut back savagely on production," Kristen informed with a pert expression.

"Hire an assistant then."

Kristen looked nervous. "You’re the boss."

"Right. You’re my manager, you hire other staff members."

"Enjoying working at home?" Kristen’s smug mood whisked back into place.

"I miss going to town, actually. Lunch with friends. Women’s night out."

"How is the patient?"

"Why do you say it like that?

"No reason."

"After three months of treatment and constant care he’s ready to see the stables today. I have to keep pinching myself to make sure this isn’t a dream. Reopening the stables. Just saying that gives me a thrill." Angel beamed happily.

"How’s Eric been the past days?"

Angel grumbled at the cruel jab to her fanciful mood. She laid the shovel against the edge of her wheelbarrow, slid her hands into her jeans pockets and turned south towards the gravel road that seemed to end at the top of the hill.

Beyond the huge ornate iron gates that were never closed was a secluded paradise. The stable compound existed on two hundred and forty-five acres of fertile valley land. Built on it were ten barns and eighteen outbuildings, including three cottage homes meant for key employees--the manager and the number one and two assistant managers. There were twelve riding paddocks; an auction and sales ring large enough to seat five hundred people, five show rings, and one largely ignored hunter course that she and the boys used for drivers’ training with their dirtbikes.

The land worked at the Wright Stables, too. Thirty-five stonewalled fields were once rich in alfalfa, oats, hay, barley, corn, and vegetables, amongst a few crops grown. Angel’s grandmother, Jessica Wright, reserved thirteen acres for an orchard from which she made a great deal of money in fruit and honey sales. To tour the place, there were countless miles of roads and elaborate riding trails. One would need a full week of pleasure walking or riding to enjoy all the sights, hidden woodland and garden niches the land had to offer.

This homestead was very much like a true nobleman’s sprawling estate in England. But then, Daisy had been the daughter of a noteworthy marquis in London. She ran away from home at seventeen in rebellion when her parents refused to let her see the New England livestock merchant, Joshua Wright. Daisy never explained in her personal journals how such a prim and proper, titled English girl met her future husband in a British sea harbor. But, none the less, she shrewdly made sure to pack all of her considerable personal wealth and credentials before she crossed the Atlantic and settled here, and began recreating the home she already missed so much. Three hundred years later, Daisy’s dream was still the neighborhoods’ example of grandeur. And here she was, in charge of it all. To her shrewd and sensible credit, she’d recently added to the prestigious family legacy, a man from another world! The stress of this bizarre adventure had driven her down, but perhaps the way would get easier for them.

"Hello, Angel dear, you’re dreaming again," Kristen called persuasively. "I have to admit, I haven’t seen you this content since we were young. Getting the horses back means a lot to you. How soon before you buy for the venture?"

"Buying? Gian’s just taking a tour today; this is all still tentative. Buying may come later." Vexed, she stared at the thick lawn and an acorn from last year half-embedded in the waking soil, moody about all the trouble her guest caused just by being here.

Kristen wrapped her arm around Angel’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug. "I know Eric’s been tough, but you knew he would be. He was at Nero’s today, lunching with a client; he’s definitely wound up tight. When I went over to say hello, Eric sized me up. I had this idea he wanted to interrogate me about anything I might know about you that he doesn’t. You’re going to have to get together with him sooner or later about accounts for start up costs, why put it off?

Angel snorted. "I still haven’t gotten over the police interrogating Gian last week."

"Eric is right, Angel, this has to be done. Gian must have an identity. After all, he’s been offered the cherry position as manager to the Wright Stables. Seems an odd choice to make when there are many others that would apply with ‘experience’ listed on their resumes. You’re sure he can handle the job, not having worked with horses before?"

Angel sighed, tired of fretting that someone might poke a hole in their web of lies and discover Gian’s true origins. "Well, I’m trying to remain practical. He needs a job worthy of his skills; I need a great manager. It seems a perfect marriage to me." Angel hugged Kristen fully, then let go and reached for her gloves and shears off the flat topstones of the rock wall. "He’s studied every book, manual, record, file and journal about stable business and horse care during his confinement. The volume of new trade knowledge stored in his fabulous brain is incredible. And it’s all available at a moment’s notice;" she said, snapping her fingers, "...minute details and facts that I search my small unseen mind for to no avail. And I was the one taught horses from the cradle."

Kristen’s model-perfect face bore a peculiar smile. "You’re hopeless, Angel, you’ve completely lost touch with your natural womanly instincts, I swear."

Angel eyed her warily. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Kristen drew in a leisurely breath and then began, "if I told you, then I would be explaining part two of this mystery before you’ve even had a chance to explore part one. That wouldn’t be much fun. For me, or you."

Cocking her head, Angel waited for the details.

Kristen giggled. "Part one, what do you see when you look at Gian?"

Angel chilled with fear despite the warm day. Were his physical differences more noticeable to others than to her? "A person?"

"Honestly, Angel."

She played stupid for safety’s sake. "I don’t know what you mean."

Kristen grunted. "What is he to you? Just a patient with a fabulous brain? Is that all you see?"

"Well, his face is healing nicely, there’s only a little scarring on the boundaries of the burns. The constant application of vitamin E oil is working wonders with them. He’s put on quite a bit of weight. There’s a healthy sheen to the fast-growing new growth of hair, it’s filling out and is full of body. I like the vivid chestnut color and the way it grows upwards from his hairline. I especially like that front flipped curl over his brows. It’s adorable the way it bounces whenever he moves. I don’t know, Kris, he was nearly dead when I found him and now he’s hobbling around on crutches, itching for work. What am I supposed to see besides a recovering patient?"

Kristen laughed softly. She stepped into Angel’s personal space and glanced around the yard before she spoke. "Angel, take a really good look. Your smart patient turned out to be a drop dead gorgeous hunk of man."

Angel drew back slightly, the idea of it too strange. Gian, gorgeous? He couldn’t be, he was alien!

"I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. Let me light the fire beneath your backside: he’s what, six foot three or four? Built very nicely, broad shoulders, large boned, though he’s somewhat slim for his size. But you can take care of that. He has a strong, squared face, that classic strongman wide jaw, and a uniquely seductive innocence to his manner, despite being a shrewd observer and not missing a detail about anything. Look at Gian today and try to imagine that you’re actually a hot-blooded woman, see what everyone else does when they look at him, what Eric sees. Give that an honest try. Then call me. I just have to know your very next thought after that revelation."

~ * ~

Planning to be prompt for her official appointment with Gian, Angel went inside twenty-five minutes later, at one, and quickly washed her hands. After shoving the Jeep keys in her pocket, she headed for Gian’s room. She knocked lightly before she pushed the door open. A big smile burst across her face. Gian was hunched forward, crutches parked deep in his armpits as he examined the special pant leg she’d designed to accommodate his cast and its awkward appearance. "Would you like me to fasten the ties for you?"

Gian startled and straightened up too fast. Struggling to stay balanced on one foot and two crutch legs, he was forced to hop quickly to save himself from toppling over.

Angel gasped. "I’m sorry! I’ll knock louder next time. It seems I’m always apologizing for being so abrupt, something I accuse you of." She hurried to him and gripped his forearm. Feeling his lean strength under the soft material, Angel heard Kristen’s words race through her mind... ‘drop dead gorgeous’...

Suddenly aware how tall Gian was, she stared up with fascination. The top of her head passed easily under his chin. Lying down, he’d seemed so much shorter. Like his height, his shoulders seemed wider today than when he was captive in the bed. Gian commanded a powerful presence with his looming size, and the intelligent glow in his intriguing copper eyes was accentuated by the shock of his uniquely colored hair. A strange feeling fluttered in her chest.

Angel was self-conscious already, when her line of vision drifted back up to his incredible face against her will. "Would you like me to tie those for you?" she murmured.

"Please. Cannot reach without sitting. Hard to stand up."

Angel giggled. She’d seen him struggle with the problem of rising plenty of times. When she knelt and reached for the ties, her eyes intimately leveled with another choice area. Memory of his nudity, there, flashed to mind. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. Concentrating on her nursing, she straightened the fabric with a slight jerk. Lining up the edges, she looped the first set of ties. Small beads of sweat broke on her upper lip, but not from her work. She liked men whose thick-proportions went all the way down their thighs and calves. They were a powerful visual aphrodisiac for her. Though too lean because of his long recovery, Gian was built that way, even if one leg was concealed in a cast. Finishing off the last set of laces, Angel stood, dragging her eyes up his impressive length. Wow, he is incredible... she admitted with a mixture of horror and exquisite attraction. A gorgeous alien.

"Do you like these, or not?" she asked almost breathlessly.

"Grateful for consideration and care."

His gut forced alien accent tickled her as it always did. And the mouth that spoke them was sensuous, shaped naturally into a plump, succulent kiss, his lower lip just a little thicker than the upper. Mmm, how would it taste?

As he shifted around, Angel was riveted by the frantic bounce of that delightful curl hanging dangerously close to his lashes. She loosed a passionate, wordless sound.

Gian wasn’t allowed to be handsome and desirable. Not in her thoughts, not in her world!

Angel tried to calm, but the surge of heat to her loins made her shamefully aware of her reaction to him. She glanced down at the quick-shot of generous cleavage where her denim vest v-ed. What kind of woman did he find attractive? When she looked up, she discovered he was assessing every move she made, the way he always did. Heat burned her cheeks.

Did he know what she was thinking about him?

Please, no... she prayed... he never said he was telepathic.

"Are you ready for the drive?" she asked with a light, cheery tone she had to fake.

He nodded only once with a strong, abrupt motion, the way he always did, but his eyes lingered on her. Clearly, he was alerted despite her subterfuge. Seeming to let the matter go, he stationed the ends of his crutches firmly in place on the hardwood floor. "Eager to be useful. Much to repay."

His deep voice had a hypnotic effect, yet another sensory aphrodisiac. A mindless smile broke across her face before she could stop it. A nervous giggle followed. Mortified to be acting like an infatuated schoolgirl, Angel turned away from him, too visual for her own good. "You don’t have to repay me, Gian. I simply want you to be happy." She stared out the window and wrestled her conscience now that she’d fallen prey to part one of Kristen’s game.

God help her, what was part two?

"You’ve been through a lot; suffered a great deal. You’ve paid your dues." She turned back to him and managed a few seconds of indifference before his beauty jolted a full sexual awakening below. Her breath gusted out in surrender. So what if he was alien?

He was the most remarkable man she’d ever seen. Or known.

Gian moved closer, eyeing her with concern. "Upset."

She laughed, her fingers dancing around one button on her vest. "No, it’s not that unpleasant, just a little bothered, really, why don’t we get going? The weather is wonderful today, warm, not humid. Was the air humid on your world?"

"No." His gaze lingered on her before he looked down at his feet.

Angel frowned. "I hate that look because I know what it means. Look in a mirror, will you? You’ve healed very well; you’re not the monster you believe you are. If you won’t look at yourself, can’t you at least use your fingers to feel the well-being of your face?" She walked her fingers lightly over her own face to demonstrate blind-seeing.

He gave a small, dismissive waggle of his head. "Not want to see. Or feel."

Angel tried not to laugh at his bickery challenge. She feigned a stern frown and parked her hands on her waist. "It’s time that you do. I need a manager who’s confident of how he looks. You’ve got no problem there." This was crazy, trying to convince Adonis he was handsome. "If you’re unaccustomed to looking in mirrors, I insist you do just this once."

"Scholars use intellect to excel, not appeal."

Angel raked her eyes down the length of him, pleasure and anxiety clashing inside her. "Well, you have both working in your favor," she murmured under her breath. The women are going to be all over him... she thought, quite sure she didn’t like that vision of the future.

On the trek through the hall, she fought flirtatious urges, but they surfaced unconsciously anyway. She moved more slowly, her hips swayed more, her shoulders straightened and jutted her breasts out to their fullest. She even found herself swinging her hair around more. Her body’s mating urges were afire and out of her control. Only her mind gave a damn that he wasn’t native to the planet.

Once in the kitchen, Angel ambled away from him and to the fridge. "I packed a small lunch. I figured after touring the main compound, we could break and find a nice spot by a brook to relax. Agreeable?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder with a flirty smile she could barely contain from turning into a mindless grin.

"Agreeable." Gian navigated into the room and onto the thick braided rug carefully, his eyes focused on his feet.

Angel was glad he was so chaste in nature. At least one of them was in control of their desires. She went out the back door, holding the screen open as he exited. Didn’t want one of those occasional strong gusts of wind to play mean tricks and snap it shut in his face. "I forgot the lunch basket. The jeep is parked at the end of the walk, I’ll be right behind you."

Despite her instructions, he stopped on the stone porch and waited. Sigh. He was chivalrous, too. Angel turned back for the packed lunch. Suspicion lurked in the back of her mind.

This guy was too perfect. Surely, he had habits that would stand her hair on end; she just hadn’t witnessed them yet.

To make sure her note to the boys wouldn’t blow off the counter in the wind, Angel set the salt shaker on the corner of the paper. She closed only the screen behind her. Leading him down the path, she found herself walking sideways so she could face him. "Are you sure you don’t feel like you’re going to your doom? To see the place where you’ll have to work with the beasts?"

His head jerked up, that front flipped curl jostling wildly. "Beasts important to Angel. Priority set."

Affection welled hotly inside. She opened the passenger door and smiled. "Are you always this devoted?"

Gian stopped at her side, his face clouded with an expression she could only hope to translate. It lingered long enough to make her nervous. Her hand shot to a hank of hair she immediately began twirling around her finger.

He opened his mouth to answer, but finally noticed the vehicle he was expected to ride in. His auburn brows shot high in surprise at her.

"Don’t you remember your first trip in this jeep, when I brought you up from the quarry?" She gave him a little nudge on the arm towards the seat.

Gian resisted for a moment. "Not remember."

"No cars where you come from? How did you get around at home then?"

He struggled into the seat with a series of deep grunts as he positioned his leg. Smiling dryly, he jabbed a finger at his cast. "Tro^ians walk."

"Oh." Angel slid his crutches into the back on the floor and plunked the basket on the seat. She hustled around to her side and hopped behind the wheel. "What if you have to go a very long way?" She started her vehicle and drove around the circle to the main drive.

"Not often go very long way. Live near work. Long journeys require air shuttle. Enclosed air shuttle," he said with emphasis, pointing up at the missing roof. His grip on the seat arm grew white knuckled.

Angel giggled and slowed to a crawl near the iron gates to keep paradise still out of sight. "If you live near work, then I assume you have a more city-like layout, unlike all the woodland here."

He glanced around in all directions, giving a wistful look at the big house in the distance. "No woodland. Only buildings, walks and gardens."

Tickled again by his innocent manner, she decided to cease the useless battle of fighting her attraction, and decided to concentrate on finding his fatal flaws. "Sounds pretty sheltered, but then, if all that was important was your work, I guess it makes sense. Here, we value open space for freedom and the woodland for conservation and enjoyment. What did you do for fun on your world?"

"Fun?"

Angel snorted and stepped on the gas. "I should have known better than to ask." She stopped at the crest of the hill to give him a good look of what lay below. "Welcome to the Wright Morgan Horse Stables, Mr. Gian Daushur from the sky. I hope you will find some happiness here."

Gian’s eyes widened at the numerous stately buildings and plots of green lush land encircled with high stone wall fences as far as he could see. He’d studied pictures of stable layouts in the books he’d read, but he’d not anticipated this huge scale, or grandeur. Trying to imagine horses grazing the grassy fields and stablehands tending every paddock, barn, and building, Gian flushed with deep contentment he’d not expected to feel. This place was as comprehensive as the Institute. Duties as manager would keep him blessedly busy, and set aside the beasts, would require the same organizational and administrative skill, as had the Institute.

Finally aware of his long silence, Gian turned to see Angel, sure she was studying his reaction closely. He was humbled by the knowing glint in her turquoise eyes.

"So, Gian, does the Wright sense of ‘large’ match your own?"

"Very impressed. Angel not mention how expansive work area was."

She foiled the grin that twitched the corners of her mouth. "By the way, hang on."

Before Gian could heed her warning, she accelerated into a frightening pace down the long, gradual hill towards the compound. The G-force took away his breath. His hair plastered back from the force of the wind and he gripped the seat so hard his fingers hurt. She came to a surprisingly smooth stop at the first huge red barn.

He glanced over at her, not surprised to see her playfully gauging his reaction. Breathing deeply now that he could, Gian felt something warm and agreeable and new burst to life inside him. "Angel ride fast to shock passenger?"

"Absolutely."

"Mission complete," he told her dryly. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he grimaced at the knots the wind had made of many strands. He gave up and focused on her rapid fire of words as she explained the functions of each structure or corral, navigating down all little roads between and around them. By the time they drove out the south end of the main compound two hours later, he was even more delighted with the prospect of overseeing the operation.

He was also beginning to question his perception of Ushuatan’s plan for him. Existing side by side with Angel these months wasn’t exactly what he would consider Purgatory. Today, he enjoyed her even more since her true mischievous nature had been set free. Now that she’d had a chance to rest the past weeks, she was always full of teasing and humor; both well timed and always meant kindly.

Gian related his feelings to his anthropological study. His human specimen had very sophisticated spiritual beliefs, faith guided her every move. She’d put her life on hold to heal him. Her children and friends, excluding the two poor examples, Eric Stevenson, deposed patriarch, and Jeremy Cooke, hopeful suitor, were much like her, friendly and kind.

How could this be the place where he was sent for punishment for failures and incompetence? This planet was a lush garden, lovely, fragrant, amazing.

"Ready for that break now? I think two hours of touring is enough of a work load today, don’t you?"

Gian was yanked from his thoughts and stared blankly at her.

"Uh oh, I disturbed the ruminating process. I wish you’d tell me what you think about. You’re probably studying me, aren’t you? Superior spaceman with the incredible brain." Her hand smoothed down her excessively long hair.

Gian’s eyes followed her fingers. Just below her outrageously large bosom, they clasped and stroked the curved ends with an appalling sensual enjoyment. Disturbed by his focus, he flicked his gaze upwards, only to find her even more amused.

Straightening in his seat, he took a stabilizing breath. "Angel is rich source of information, of revelation. Tro^ian data of race suspect of prejudice."

"Ooh," Angel purred with surprise. "That’s a relief, and really juicy. So, are you going to tell me what you folks on Tro^ious Acron do for fun?"

Gian was intrigued by her loaded smile. "Fun? What is fun?"

"Fun, well, let me see." Her hands cradled the steering wheel, caressing gently. "Fun is what you do after the day’s work is finished. We have fun in many ways." Seemingly stuck on whatever she was thinking, she repeated with a purred murmur, "Many ways."

He obeyed the urge to hurry her along. "Study is fun. Research satisfying." When she laughed outright at him, he frowned.

"It is, that’s absolutely true, but there are fun activities I could show you. After all, since you are examining me, I think you should see all there is to see about us."

She had a very valid point. But her smooth tone and annoying habit of running her fingers along the top edge of her skimpy top was beginning to pick at the limit of his nerves. Forcing his eyes off of her, he surveyed the thick woodland before them. "Remaining areas for crops and forest?"

"Not exactly. A lot of the acreage starting here at the south road, is woodland and trails, but there are delightful places with brooks, gazebos, campsites, or small cabins. Many of those have seen a lot of fun and action through the years, that’s for sure. It’s time you saw more." She accelerated quickly again down the gravel road, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Gian hung on to the seat through the twists and turns. Once they emerged from the cool, dark tunnel of shadows caused by the thick tree canopy above, a large, sunlit, grassy field opened up in front of them. He grunted with delight at the striking colors, and the wonderful smells.

"This is the Fire Meadow. In the fall, the knee-high grass turns the color of orange flames. The leaves on the shrubbery turn yellow, orange and red in competition with the spectacular show. When the Stables are featured in a magazine or paper, it’s usually either the horses, or this field that is requested most. It featured in New England calendars nine times since 1955. We’ve always been October. See that road off to the right in the distance?"

Gian followed her finger toward the distant landscape. He pointed at the small swatch out of the treeline that looked more like a darkened cave entrance than a road. "Light years away going into woods?"

She snorted humorously. "Yes, that would be the one. That leads to a very nice babbling brook with excellent scenic points of its own. Want to eat lunch there?"

Gian looked behind them, down the small dirt road leading back to civilization. Noisy footfalls raced through the forest on his right. He cast a surreptitious glance that way, swallowing hard. When her hand came to rest on his arm, he jumped at the intimate touch.

"Hey, don’t be intimidated. These woods are full of small to medium sized prey animals that know exactly how you feel. You’re hearing squirrels and chipmunks foraging for lunch. Birds sifting through last year’s fallen leaves for seeds and bugs to eat. There’s countless other types of wildlife around here scavenging for a meal, but nothing that’s wants to eat you."

Gian was oddly provoked by the way she brushed her thumb back and forth over her lower lip. She constantly touched herself today and every time she did, he was both mesmerized and irritated by it.

He studied her well-proportioned face, most impressed with the intelligence that radiated from within. But he liked the delicate curves of her face, her shapely lips. Though her small body was shamefully proportioned and odd looking for it, he’d grown used to her. Gian understood her figure was extremely desirable for a human female by the media he’d read, and the improper expressions of men when they looked at her.

When his stomach complained about the fast, Gian glanced around the meadow and realized his boon.

Now that he was functioning independently, she resumed her work and maternal duties. That often kept her inaccessible to him. Out here in the seclusion, he was finally alone with her.

A sense of excitement dissipated his discomfort. But a flash vision of his scarred ugliness sobered his mood.

"Hello, Gian, are you in there? Stop ruminating and talk to me."

He gave a curt nod and stared at his cast, dejected.

Angel leaned to look into his eyes. "I forgot to show you something. Look behind the visor." She pointed to the flap over his half of the windshield.

Brooding, he cast a glance at it. He didn’t want to see anything.

"Pull it down, Gian, come on. I heard your stomach growl, it’s time to eat. But I want you to see this first."

Gian indulged her playful mood only because it was polite. He pulled the flap down and, predictably...saw the back of it. The same as the front. He eyed her dubiously.

"No, silly, that’s not all there is." She fussed with the angle of the sun-blind. "See that smaller tab? Pull that down."

Gian sighed tiredly and obeyed. A window. No, a mirror. He inhaled sharply in surprise at the familiar face.

"Yes! Yes! I made you look!" Angel exploded gleefully. Her arm raised and her hand fisted. "Yes! Gotcha! See, you’ve no scars, no disfigurement. You’re a very handsome man." She nibbled a nail, grinning at him.

Gian’s thoughts whirled. He wasn’t disfigured! Relief surged through him. A throaty laugh rolled out of his mouth. Caught being vain, Gian felt his cheeks warm. "Angel good nurse. Devoted and diligent. Grateful. Very grateful," he said, able to look at her with confidence now.

Gian leaned against the thick trunk of a white pine tree. He loosened his sore hands over the crutch handles, sighing with a mixture of elation and disbelief. He wasn’t scarred or disfigured. It was vain of him to care so much, but he did, nonetheless. Staring through the clear water of the swift-moving brook, to the pebble-covered bottom, he tried to readjust his perception of his life here, but found the noisy trickle and pop distracting.

What a day of gifts Ushuatan offered, atop the blessing of a messenger angel. He’d healed perfectly. Gained assignment to a top position at a prestigious establishment. He didn’t feel so bad about his fate today. The scenery was certainly grand.

In front of him in the distance, the shadows of the evergreen grove ended and a bright splash of yellow sunlight spotlighted a huge meadow of lush, tall, incredibly green grass. Spectacular. Awe inspiring. Earth was a sensory haven of smells, sights, tastes, and sounds.

A tiny black and white bird, a Penthestes atricapillus, or Black Capped Chickadee, flitted to a rock on the other side of the brook. Gian’s brows raised in excitement to finally see a live example of the miniature creature. It jerked its head in back and forth motions, then bent forward and dipped its minuscule black beak into the water. An instant later, the bird launched to flight, a shower of little water droplets falling back to the waters’ surface. Hopping onto the thin green needles of another tree, the bird sang a pert melody of ordered chirps. After an impressive, grating little sonata, it once again took flight at extraordinary speed through the thick green pine needle canopy. Though a picture of the bird in the book he’d read the other day was informative, seeing it in person was exhilarating. Eagerly, he looked for another new animal.

He wasn’t disappointed.

On the trunk he leaned against, a small brown six-legged insect crawled towards the ground. Completely engrossed as it sped along, he studied its unfamiliar shape. Bizarre. Rather barbaric looking. It steamed past his eye level. He tilted his head to keep up with the speedy gait. It just missed his shoulder. Gian ogled it as it kept a consistent parallel distance from his arm. Classifying its behavior, he thought it focused and persevering. A worthy insect.

Then the brown bug careened unexpectedly off course, quickly mounted his wrist and walked across it. He sucked in a sharp breath and let go of the crutch handle, shaking his arm. The ant fell to the ground and continued off across the ground litter at a dead run to escape.

In the distance, he heard Angel try to muffle her amusement. She turned her head slightly and shielded the lower half of her face with her hand as if he wasn’t supposed to see that she was laughing at him, but her shaking shoulders were a giveaway clue.

Gian stared into her twinkly blue eyes. Did some small bit of esteem for him hide behind her easy smiles? She showed clear signs. Noticing everything he did, even small details. He liked the way that felt.

But even if she was, she was still deeply involved with Eric despite her five-year-old divorce. Eric was a master at manipulating her weaknesses to suit his own selfish purposes. His emotional abuse and aggressive treatment was the reason she was teaching herself to act brave.

Gian was deeply offended. A woman as small and giving and with such big trusting eyes shouldn’t have to protect herself from an overbearing suitor? Eric didn’t deserve her.

But relations between her and Eric were changing quickly. The more she set boundaries for him, the more he obeyed, and in turn she appreciated him more. Soon, if there was no intervention, the two would likely pairbond again, this time, ‘successfully’.

Gian’s heart clenched into a big knot at the very idea. Everyday spent with her developed his longing that she prefer his companionship over all others. She was his messenger angel, after all.

Shifting his position, Gian grimaced at the pain through his shoulders. Ugh, the strain of using these crutches was constant. Resting against the rough trunk of the tree, he watched her study him. She was serene and relaxed, at ease in the vast woodland while she lounged comfortably on the red bench seat. As untamed as her world was, she was a magical, bewitching creature. Ushuatan wanted him to learn something from her. That’s why they crossed paths.

A whoosh of wind through the pine needles played with the ends of her long hair, waggling a hank of dark brown over her cheek. She pushed it behind her ear with one finger, her gaze never breaking from his. For the first time, he proudly returned her stare.

But he was actually entertaining the idea of pairbonding with a human? How could such a venture ever prove successful? Such a move wouldn’t even be legal on his homeworld. And because of her race, taboo.

"Silent as always. Will you ever share a fraction of what you’re thinking?"

Gian drew in a deep breath to gather his nerves. "Angel is extremely kind. Save life, give quality to days and nights, and loyal friendship. Indebted."

"Thank you. You certainly know how to lob a compliment, at least, nowadays."

"Pain, and longing for home degraded ability for diplomacy."

"I understand. Watching you suffer was no easy task either. I suppose I was more short-tempered than usual, too. But that’s over now. Spring’s here, you’re well on your way to a perfect recovery."

Gian’s lips tightened a little. "Not know how leg will turn out."

"Well, I think it’s safe to trust the Doc’s prognosis. Your leg will be ‘almost as good as new’. I know him, he’s not misleading us. Have faith."

"Will try."

"I wish you’d learn to use pronouns. You’ll be working with employees who’ll notice how different you are. You look like us, basically. But your face is different, your hair and eyes, your manner certainly is. Your accent, while I adore it’s gut forced quality, clearly, clearly defines you as odd. These are things you can’t change to fit in, to be undercover, really. But learning to use pronouns is something you can change, and I wish you would."

Tro^ians didn’t use pronouns. Staying chaste of the concept of Self, and personal goals was what made them excellent scholars. Peoples from all around the galaxy made pilgrimages for a chance to gain admission to the great libraries of Tro^ious Acron. There, they’d find specifications for perfected inventions of all types, and volumes upon volumes of precise research on every subject matter that existed. But his messenger angel made a demand, and he should comply. Still, he couldn’t nod to acknowledge her, or speak the words to agree.

She seemed to understand, as she always did, or just didn’t press. "You’ve worked in a technologically advanced space lab. Though I’m deliriously happy to start-up the stables, still I worry that your new position won’t be enough of a challenge to keep you content."

Gian watched her slender fingers fiddle with the top button of her vest. Considering its placement, in the middle of her large bosom, he dragged his eyes away and worked to construct yet another answer to the question she asked almost daily.

Angel anchored her foot onto the seat, and tucked her other leg underneath. Her delicate brows arched slightly. "No suitable answer to that?"

"Choose new goals. Experience what Ushuatan wills." Gian studied her smallest of reactions to see if this twentieth explanation would hit home for her.

Angel fanned off a small white moth as it flew too close in front of her face. "Our societies have placed importance on different issues, but we still have the same types of emotions and thoughts. I never imagined that could happen with a man from another world. I think you’re very brave to accept what you cannot change, and you do it with admirable dignity."

His heartbeat took off. Gian looked away to regroup. She was more than surprisingly agreeable to his overtures; she returned his interest. Not only did she notice intimate details about him--she spoke of them. Undeniable proof of her esteem. Rallying his nerves, he gave a slight nod. "Thank yyyyoou," he forced the unnatural word off his tongue.

"That was a toughie, eh, using a pronoun?" She laughed silently. "I love the way you say that. Yyoouu’re welcome. Why don’t yyoouu come over and eat lunch. You’re accustomed to the wild scenery by now, aren’t you?"

Gian felt his cheeks warm. That was a very polite assessment of his fear of the woods.

"Don’t worry, most people from the city have to get used to the solitude and isolation of a forest, too, but it eventually happens."

Setting his crutches securely in the yellowed pine needle litter, Gian groaned when a painful burning sensation shot across his tight shoulders and down his arms. When he reached the bench, he plopped down and gave a long sigh of relief he felt all the way to his toes.

"A daily therapeutic massage would relieve most of your discomfort." Angel gathered his crutches and leaned them against the conveniently placed tree stump he’d propped his casted leg up on. She pulled out a moderate sized ‘wicker’ basket from under the bench by the double handles and balanced it in her lap. "I packed some tasty goodies." She pushed the hinged lid back. "Since you prefer poultry, I made turkey sandwiches with lettuce and tomato, and brought apples and grapes. Though you hate salt, I did bring pretzels since I caught you eating one the other day, even though you had this incredibly funny scowl while you crunched it. No salt on Tro^ious Acron? Did I say that right?"

Her interest was another excellent sign. "No salt on homeworld, youu said correctly." He rubbed the noxious little white sodium crystals off hard twisted bread before eating.

"Ayyye can buy them without salt, would you like that?"

Ignoring her attempt to goad him into using a pronoun, Gian accepted the wrapped sandwich, his stomach fluttering. Nervous about encouraging this union forward, he ran his thumb over the ‘waxed paper’ binding his meal. "Would like that."

"Then expect them. I have to go shopping later, I’ll pick up some."

Gian’s gaze strayed over her while he formulated his next careful advance, an invasive one, focused on training her to share intimate facts with him. "What was reason for divorce?"

Coughing on her sip of juice, she stared ahead into the mass of tree trunks. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the bottle’s nozzle over her lower lip. "I didn’t know exactly, at the time, back then. All I knew was that I had to get away from him. I was shattered when Daddy died of a stroke; I’d lost Mom to a car accident only four years before that. Even though I struggled to handle the loss, Eric was still...Eric. He never let up on his type A behavior. I needed his support but he had nothing to give. He didn’t feel the loss, so he spent no time trying to imagine how I felt. But I began to realize that I was the one who needed to change, not him. Only recently have I realized that a lot of the problem was never telling him what I needed, or how I expected him to treat me. I just let him do whatever he wanted to. I’ve discovered that he’s actually fairly compliant to my demands, when I make them."

Gian’s stomach roiled with anxiety. That conclusion was dangerously insightful. "Incompatibility is true cause," he said almost too quickly. Was his private motivation embarrassingly plain to her?

"I suppose you’re right. I don’t know what I am yet, besides Angel-the-always-afraid, but I’ve always thought of him as Eric-the-Conqueror. He has a very warrior-like nature, like a Viking with sword in hand, ready to go to war. I can’t reasonably expect him to act differently. That’s his nature. So, of course, along with his handy gallantry are other taxing qualities to go along with it, like aggressive, go-getter, competitive, unstoppable, energetic, vigorous. Just the list of them tires me out. But it’s been almost impossible to let go of him," she said sadly.

Gian prayed in relief. Despite her strong attraction to Eric, she knew he was wrong for her. "Angel is kind, gentle, nurturing, friendly, scholarly. List is smooth and reassuring."

"Scholarly? I suppose, in ways." She laid down her sandwich, stood up and jammed her fingers into her pockets partway. "Leave it to you to describe my hobby nicely. Eric finds my fascination with religious history something to poke fun at, not scholarly. In four months, you’ve discerned what took me seventeen years of marriage to see. But then, one doesn’t have to be a genius to think faster than I do. Fortunately, despite your disturbing intelligence, I trust you. You may be from another world, but you’re still my friend."

Hearing a human vowing trust in a Tro^ian inspired a religious moment. Then a dry wind helped the moment along, whirling her hair all around her like a dark heavenly halo. Gian’s heart skipped a beat. "Angel is truly messenger angel," he whispered reverently.

She gave a small, self-conscious smile. "I’m sure you’re the only one to ever accuse me of that."

He gestured his hand between them. "At beginning of new life journey, teacher is first to be seen," he said in wonderment. "Angel is the teacher.

She gave a husky laugh. "I’ll have fun trying to imagine what I know that you don’t."

Instantly her hand went to her shiny hair again and began fiddling with it. Gian was riveted on her motions and something inside alerted, as if every part of him was tuned to her.

"Did you leave a family behind, Gian?"

For the first time since the dissolution of his marriage to Malana, Gian felt freed instead of rejected. "Not leave dependents."

Angel’s sky blue eyes narrowed at him. Humans were very instinctual, and he knew she sensed he was holding back. Time for confession. "Homeworld family not like family here. Belong to Lai Daushur line, have parents, siblings, but affectionate interaction between members not exist." His mouth refused to finish, but he forced himself to continue. "And once had mate," he rushed in.

She purred with delight and slid down next to him. Angel reclaimed her sandwich, but still couldn’t hide her intense curiosity from him. "Tell me about it."

Humiliation was swept away by his desire to test if she would once again accept him freely, as she always did.

"Summoned to Chambers, told by council that pairbond arranged. Two moons pass, go to Chambers to meet future mate. Pairbond sanctified. Union lasted five years." He quieted a small sigh, humiliated to have to tell her about his failure.

Angel leaned forward and angled her head to look into his eyes. "You’re divorced? Like me?"

Understanding was etched on her beautiful face, but he’d not yet told her why. "Mate break bond, for infertility."

She was silent for a moment. "What am I missing? That sounds suspiciously like human politics. Scholars divorce each other if the union doesn’t produce children?"

"Yes. Tro^ians must procreate."

"But you’re also…shamed…by this?"

Gian groaned under his breath. "Dissolution considered failure. Same as crash. Two major missions, two major failures."

She discarded her sandwich into the basket with a plop. "Divorce is considered a failure here as well. But it happens. We get over it. We forgive. Are such failures more weighty on your world?"

"Weighty?"

"Forgive the slang." She bit her lower lip. "Um, you consider them unforgivable?"

Gian took a deep swig from his juice bottle and balanced it on his thigh. "Tro^ians value career success and impeccable record of honored obligations. Failures bespeak ominous meaning for character."

"You mean, forever damned?"

Ugh, this was humiliating. But the angel should know what he was. "Reputation on homeworld, irreparably damaged."

"Wow, you come from a tough neighborhood. How are you supposed to control a genetic mandate, such as the inability to father a child? I mean, after all, you inherited the gene from your family line. Why are you personally reviled for that?"

Put that way… Politics had been so clear to him…until now. "Not have decent answer."

"Ah ha. Well, I want you to know that I don’t consider that a crime, if my opinion matters. And as for the crash? A part malfunctioned, and I don’t see how that’s your fault either. Besides, I got a new friend out of it."

Gian exhaled harshly. "Angel special. Always crediting best and forgiving shortcomings."

"Now there’s an edict to write down in your study of us."

Gian smiled dryly at her jab and took a bite of his nourishing sandwich. Riveted on the menagerie of different tastes within one meal, Gian recalled how Tro^ian food was bland and boring compared to the bounty of delicious cuisine here. After a few minutes of quiet between them, he looked down to find her watching him. "How know research of native peoples in progress?"

"When a burned, broken man tells me, his rescuer, that humans are savages, and then finds out that not all of us are, what else would he be doing if he’s the type of guy like you who can’t stand errors in the accuracy of anything? Besides, I’ve come to recognize scholarly impartiality when it glazes over your expression. I’d be doing the same thing if I were on your world."

Gian imagined her crashing onto native soil. Shame warmed his cheeks. "Tro^ian not rescue human."

"You’d just let me die?"

Her sad tone made him feel like he came from a barbaric race. He blocked out the idea of such a fate happening to her. "No. Notify authorities."

Her pout changed to a mutinous frown. Arms crossed over her generous chest. "That’s what Eric would have done to you if he’d been with me."

Being compared to Eric irritated Gian. "Forever indebted that Angel is kind and caring."

She stood up again, sliding her fingers into her pockets partway. Kicking at the pine needle carpet with her toe, she stared off in the direction of the sunny field. "I don’t care what Eric would have done, or what you would have done. I did what I thought was right and that’s all that matters. Despite my panic, I obeyed my human ethics that told me to help you any way I could. I couldn’t imagine turning you over to authorities, knowing how ignorant some can be. I couldn’t live with wondering if you were suffering at someone else’s hands."

"Angel has unique empathy. Treat others as would wish in return."

Her lips thinned. "We call that the Golden Rule here. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I happen to think it’s another very profound and wise edict to live by, don’t you? Jot that down in your research notes, too," she said, her chin noticeably higher than normal.

"Absolutely, Miss Wright."

Fighting a smile, she shyly averted her gaze. "Jerk." When she looked at him again, her cheeks were delightfully pink. "That sandwich went fast. Now that you’re finally eating for your size, I packed several for you, want another?"

Gian found her bashful nature as charming as her playful one. When she bent to pick something up, her hair slowly cascaded over her shoulder. She mumbled in irritation and jerked her head to chase it back so she could see.

"Why have hair so long and troublesome?"

Angel gave a dismissive shrug. "This is a pinecone." She held it up at his eye level. "It’s long and spindly, and the squirrels and birds eat the small seeds on the inside of each little woody tab."

"Have books to read on trees?"

She tossed it back to the ground and sat beside him, rummaging in the wicker basket. "I can get you some. I noticed that you absorbed the new bird books I gave you. Are trees next?"

Gian took the sandwich offered. "Research requires complete recording of all indigenous flora and fauna," he said with cool professionalism.

Angel offered him a wry look. Then she smiled. "You’re teasing! That’s got to be a first."

He leaned towards her. "Fabulous brain made the endeavor possible."

"And a sense of lighthearted fun, something new for you."

"Notice how the human studies the alien, too?"

Her mouth rounded to speak, but no words came out at first. "I don’t. Okay, sure, I do pay attention to your differences, but only because you’re interesting. You make being different charming."

Gian grunted with victory. "Study planet not only to load chip-key with non-prejudiced reference material, interesting as well."

She straightened her spine. "Sometimes I wonder if you do find me primitive, at least intelligence wise."

A heady rush of delight washed over Gian for the ease of courting her. "Not read 2652 languages, but intelligence is high. Angel has unique sight, same as Elders in Sacred Temples. Make ‘different’ charming, too." When she held his stare beyond casual time, Gian seized the moment yet again. "Not ask if handling stable business a problem anymore, please. Serving provides sense of rich comfort and contentment unequaled by any other duty."

"But I..."

"No. Not worry any longer. More willing to switch lifestyles than might appear."

Her small sigh was almost purred. Gian languished in her open regard. He admired the long dark lines of the thick lashes that fringed her large, mystic eyes and the soft sculpting of her heart shaped face. She was incredibly beautiful. Malana had been pale and plain compared to Angel. All Tro^ian women were.

But there would be major compromises necessary on his part to make their betrothal endure. The most repulsive challenge? Her carnal appetite. Though he watched only research shows with her, when she was busy, he cruised through other genres of shows.

His cheeks warmed. He was still shocked by the displays he’d witnessed on her television. Appallingly graphic shows. Human couples removing all their clothing, touching each other, shamefully engaging in the act of procreation for all to see!

They didn’t reserve the act of sex for its purpose, to conceive a child. They did it for no apparent reason except that they wanted to. Because it felt good. Humans had intimate relations with others they didn’t even know! A most disgusting vice was their oral fixations. They put their mouths anywhere and everywhere on each other. A tremor of revulsion rippled through him.

But compromises would have to be made whether he liked it or not.

Gian realized she was still staring. Though it was rather soon for this length of silent intimacy, he wasn’t willing to stop it. Angel searched his face as if weighing her thoughts carefully. Her gaze dropped from his many times and she seemed focused in earnest, but on what he didn’t know. She licked her lower lip several times with small sweeps of her tongue. Curious, he waited to see what she would do.

Angel leaned toward him. She tilted her head, her nose almost touching his. Her sweet scent drifted around him.

When her mouth barely brushed against his, he startled as if she’d struck him.

Angel’s eyes went wide. She stood abruptly and glided several steps away. Clearly upset, she scratched her brow, grimaced in discomfort. Her cheeks flushed pink. "Oh my god. Did I just do that?" she mumbled very lowly under her breath. Then she feigned a calm professional air. "Well, I suppose since you’ve agreed to throw yourself into the manager’s position, I’ve suggestions for your choices of key employees. And you should, ideally, have three assistant managers that you trust completely to carry on successfully in your stead. I can recommend only two. You’ll have to train a third."

Her reaction to her own action had him spellbound. He swallowed the dust in his throat and licked his dry lips, trying to compose himself. With regret, he granted her wish to switch the focus. "Assistants will know manager has no experience," he said calmly, though his heart still hammered.

She sat down, an overly polite stiffness to her back. "That doesn’t matter. Start up after five years is going to be slow, you’ll have enough time to catch on. I’m not worried about that. Lyndon will understand. Lyndon James. I advise choosing him as number one. He began working at the Stables in 1929, when he was ten, for my great Granddad. He was my father’s manager, too. Never missed a day, according to Daddy, except when his children were born. Danny Miller is number two. He began his career here in 1972 when Lyndon hired him as assistant manager. Before that he’d worked fifteen years as manager of another stable in the county until they moved up north to Vermont. And I’m absolutely thrilled that my son William is interested in working with you. You two have forged a very amiable friendship. He and I were talking just yesterday about this. He told me that you encouraged him to take his rightful place. That means more to me than you’ll ever know."

Though he was listening to her, Gian realized what she’d done. Or attempted to do. He swallowed hard when the moment replayed in his mind.

She’d tried to put her mouth on his.

"And I suppose there’s another item of business that I’ve postponed, because it’s... awkward...or, well, not really," she trailed off.

For the first time in his life, Gian was stuck in one moment. Her lips slowly coming towards his, the gust of warm air on his face from her exhale.

Angel cast a fleeting glance his way. "I didn’t want you to misunderstand, so I put off telling you that..." Bristling with discomfort, she exhaled sharply. "You’re perfectly welcome to stay with us, you must realize that. I only offer this because it’s part of the manager’s list of luxuries."

He’d been wrong to think he’d escape receiving those oral deviations from her in a pairbond.

"You know of the cottages for the…for the..."

Even though she was beautiful, he still didn’t want her mouth all over him. Or her tongue on his skin. Perspiration beaded on his temples.

"I wish you’d say something," she said in a soft voice, her expression pained.

How could he take her as mate after that preview?

"One cottage is for the manager. You’re entitled to claim it as your home territory."

He choked on air. She might want him out of her house? "Want that arrangement?"

"No! Not at all. I said you’re welcome to stay with me, us. See? I feared you’d think that’s what I want you to do. I don’t, but it’s your right to claim the manager’s cottage."

Strangely torn, Gian nodded. Her renewed esteem was a bittersweet blow.

Picking up one of the pretzels on the tray, Gian licked at a noxious grain of the horrible salt with the tip of his tongue. He grimaced at the sharp sting.

Where else would she want to put her mouth on his body? Gian stifled a groan and sucked off another disgusting sodium grain.

Better get used to taking the bitter with the sweet...

Standing with Gian on the main road in the center of the Stable compound, Angel could scarcely believe Jeremy Cooke was disgracing himself this way.

A festive rainbow of crocuses bloomed along the stone walls lining the road to the admin. barn. Ecstatic with the wonderful spring weather, every native bird warbled with abandon. A pleasant floral scent saturated the temperate breeze. Warm and sunny, it was a perfect June day, but she couldn’t enjoy the glory with Jeremy making a fool of himself in front of her alien guest.

"So, no matter the business, I have to report to him?" Jeremy jerked his head at Gian.

Never once in two years had her good friend ever acted this way. This certainly was an eye-opening experience. "I can’t imagine why you have a problem with that," Angel said icily.

Jeremy frowned. "I made the offer to you, personally a few weeks back at your cookout. I hadn’t expected to be handed down to a manager."

"Why not? I did say I wasn’t planning to manage the Stables myself."

The carpenters’ blond brows tightened even more. "I’d expected to consult directly with you since we’re friends."

Angel flushed with hate for that Eric-like glower of aggression. She kept her voice low. "What the hell is wrong with you today? I run another business. I can’t handle the Stables without a manager."

"Who’s idea was this anyway? His?" Jeremy’s tone dripped with accusation. "First he moves into your house, next he’s your manager? What’s next?"

Angel sucked in an offended breath. She took a large step towards him, her short five-two height forcing her to look up to stare into his eyes. "Two more seconds of this ridiculous behavior and I’m going to insist that my manager refuse you as a possible employee," she whispered. "We have a reputation for friendly professionalism and you’re not demonstrating either quality at this moment. Workers are beginning to stare, so show my manager the respect he deserves."

Angel stepped back and forced a small, pleasant smile, applying part two of the formula she used to handle Eric. "You’re the best carpenter in this county. I’d be honored to accept your bid without interviewing any other contractors. I’d hate to lose you over a dispute concerning my manager."

Jeremy smiled tightly in return. "I want the contract. This town was incorporated in 1748 with the Wright’s name well respected for two score years. You won’t regret your decision to hire me."

Angel extended her hand to close the deal. "Welcome aboard." When he grasped it, she felt the controlled iron. His gray eyes bore into hers with intensity that sent creepy shivers up her spine. When she tried to withdraw, he gave slight resistance before he let go. Angel struggled not to wipe her palm on the gathers of her skirt.

"Thank you, Miss Wright," Jeremy gave a polite smile and tilted his head with a gentlemanly air, completely ignoring her manager.

Fear knotted inside her. Instinctively, she floated closer to Gian. A predator lurked behind Jeremy’s calm demeanor. She’d never realized that.

Angel flicked her eyes up to find the friendly face she’d grown used to having so near. "I have an appointment with the mason in the family quarters of the stables to discuss renovation of the fireplace and other luxuries of my choice. One p.m. is approaching swiftly. Will you be up at the house for lunch? I’m sure you need to get off those crutches for a while."

When Gian nodded, the motion sent that front flipped curl into an adorable jiggle off the sides of his thick auburn brows. Angel’s heart fluttered wistfully. "Good, I’ll meet you later with the Jeep then."

Gian gave her a disarming smile. "Nice day for walk."

Angel smiled against her will, knowing how he still resisted rides in cars. "Yes, it is. One, then." Her warm glow fizzled out when she turned and was faced with Jeremy’s dark assessment. Nodding courteously, she took an extra, unplanned step around him to widen their distance. "Jeremy."

Gian basked in the personal esteem she’d freely given. It certainly made the carpenter irate. Served the wretch right for speaking to her like that.

Once she was well out of earshot, the prospective wood worker growled, "She may trust you, but some of us are watching."

Gian reached into the pocket of his black jacket and pulled out a ‘business card’. "Miss Wright’s numbers, website and email address. She is allowing small feature of each hired contractor on the website. Submit hopeful files via attachment."

Jeremy snatched it from his hand and shoved it into his pants pocket. "Thank you." He glanced over his shoulder as if to make sure Angel wasn’t near. "You’re being watched by those of us who care for Angel. You seem very comfortable living under the umbrella of her luxury. That tells me a lot about you."

Gian inhaled the fresh scent of growing greens with leisurely slowness. Wonderful variances of sweet, dry and pungent scents non-existent on his homeworld mixed in the gentle wind. Earth was a sunny, green garden planet compared to the white-gray skies of Tro^ious Acron whose sun was a pulsar star that cloaked the planet in a constant three hour rhythm of dusk and dawn. Finally, he deigned to notice the glowering stare fixed on him. "More to discuss?"

The carpenter scowled. "You’ll have an estimate for the main barns by sunset." Steering his chunky form off in the direction of his company truck, he turned just enough to shoot a narrow-eyed glare at Gian.

Human males had no respect for one suitor’s turn at courtship, as was customary on his homeworld. That forced Gian to adopt their ways to keep the competition off balance, unmannerly in power-struggles, and outside the main circle of Angel’s life.

Too bad all of Eric’s tasks was with her financial assets and liquidations because that limited the manager’s authority. But Gian wasn’t staying up late at night on the computer setting up the Stables financial records and learning all about current economics, currency, investments, and expenses just to keep busy. Soon, he would dethrone Eric and assume the billing and payroll duties for the Stables. When Eric was told, his human ego would self-destruct in front of Angel, destroying her high regard for his ‘sterling’ business demeanor, just as Jeremy Cooke had just done. Gian looked forward to that untoward scene, even more so than he had to this one.

Drawing in another greedy chestful of the wonderful spring air, Gian recalled the satisfying moment his messenger angel sidled nearer to him in the dispute with the carpenter. But he’d not liked the indescribable quality lurking on Cooke’s face and in his posture. Only once had Gian ever witnessed that expression. Strangely, that had been on his homeworld, in his lab, during an equipment exchange. Seneb, the man Malana would end up pairbonding with after their annulment, directed a similar look at him.

What could it mean? Gian’s focus strayed over to the admin. barn door into which Angel had disappeared.

Presently, he had no appointments or duties. A respectable suitor would take his place beside her while she conducted stable business. Straightening on his crutches, Gian shifted his heavy casted leg, wincing when every muscle in his shoulders burned from overwork.

"How long will you be hobbling around on those?" a deep voice said from behind him.

Gian twisted to see the owner and startled.

The stranger chuckled. "I’m used to that wide-eyed look when people first see me. I’m Lyndon James, Jarrod Wright’s former manager, at your service."

Accepting the large hand, Gian stared, mute from surprise.

"And you must be her manager. It’s good to see you can be rattled after all."

Astounded, Gian nodded. This eighty-three-year old man, as Angel had described, radiated vitality and power. Lyndon James stood head to head with him. He had a full head of healthy shiny white hair like a young Tro^ian man. His face and skin were creased with age but there was nothing lax or slack on the man. His huge barrel chest and thick limbs spoke of great strength and vigor. Although he couldn’t explain why, Gian trusted Lyndon James.

Lyndon raised one thick salt and pepper brow. "Well? The cast?"

Gian’s eyes dropped to it. "July."

Giving a grunt, Lyndon glanced around the compound. "What the hell did you do to it?"

Having seen an Elder only on the day he was born, Gian was impressed. Clearly, Elders existed on Earth as well as his homeworld, but instead of being secluded from the public in temples, they lived with the masses, dispensing wisdom wherever they went. Would he pass this crucial initiation? "Bone broken in three places, some pieces shattered. Might suffer some disability."

"Gerhard do that cast?"

Gian nodded.

Lyndon’s sharp gaze finally softened and became friendlier. "Angel says your knowledge of horses is limited to only what you’ve studied."

Gian swallowed hard. "Correct."

After a horribly long silence, the corners of Lyndon’s mouth began to curve upward. "You handled the applicant well I noticed. Used to being in charge?"

Ah, a credential, but he couldn’t use it. "Have the necessary poise to ‘handle’ troubled workers."

Lyndon’s eyes narrowed. "Um hum." He flicked his eyes to the carpenter as he sifted through a toolbox in the back of his truck. "I’ve never met Cooke, though I’ve heard his professionalism is sterling around these parts."

Gian huffed. "Not today."

Lyndon chuckled. "Is it the flirtation between you and Angel that bothered him?"

Once Gian translated the word ‘flirtation’, his stomach clenched. "Not telepathic."

The bald evasion raised both of Lyndon’s bushy brows. "Not a subject of discussion, I see. Angel said you had an abrupt way of talking and a heavy accent. She told me to watch out for your reserved nature, too, not to take it personal. I see she was correct. That leaves straight business. I have advice for you, if the sparkling reputation of the Wright Stables is important to you."

"Wish to be very attentive to that detail."

What was left of Lyndon’s coolness evaporated. "Good. Get Angel down here as often as you possibly can. Your reputation amongst the workers and buyers is going to depend on her endorsement. Endorsement they need to see constantly through the next year. If you can make it that far, you’ll have a strong rep of your own to boast."

Gian’s eyes swept over the vast acres of buildings, green pasture and cropland. A delicious sense of peace warmed his bones. "Only goal to please owner. Success is assured."

"Confidence is a good thing, but how do you plan to get her down here daily?"

Angel’s insistence on running her wardrobe business flashed through Gian’s mind. He glanced down at his cast. Her nursing would keep her close until it came off. But after that?

Lyndon chuckled almost imperceptibly as if he knew his thoughts. "The best answer is sad sack."

"Sad sack?"

Moving his massive form close, Lyndon stared down, his warm brown eyes darting all over Gian’s face with shrewd consideration. "Sad sacks are the horses no one else will work with because they fear failure. The abused, unloved, injured or just plain unlucky ones that drew too harsh a ticket to handle. Angel never took more than a month to have that kind following after her like little kids around their mama. She’s recycled quite a few in her time and found them homes with loving owners. She’s an old hand at it."

Gian wished to witness this communion with beasts. "How are sad sacks purchased?"

"I’m heartened by your interest. You don’t usually buy sad sacks. We hope never to find them. Most that we do find are free. But I’ll advise your search for one pathetic enough to inspire Angel’s attention."

"Very grateful," Gian said, relieved to have gained the favor of an Elder.

Lyndon’s shrewd assessment returned. "She didn’t exaggerate one bit. You are a man of few words, and a unique way of saying them, abrupt and heavy. So tell me, does Stevenson like you?"

"No," he responded with pride.

Lyndon’s old, seasoned face crinkled with a genuine smile. He reached into his jacket pocket, his gaze once again sweeping across the compound. "I don’t imagine you’ve ever seen Angel this way?"

Shoved under his nose was a photograph of a young girl in a black riding habit sitting atop a large equally black horse. Bewitched, Gian soaked up the innocence on her fresh, child-like face. Her smile was angelic and brilliant, but her eyes twinkled with a powerful wildness and mystery. Nothing like the mature woman he knew today who struggled to assert herself, rather, more the messenger angel who needed him as he preferred to consider her.

"She was fifteen in this snapshot. The horse was her birthday present from Jarrod, her father. She’d begged for that Friesian in the picture for almost a year. Considering they were about $25,000 a pop back then, it was a generous gift. I think Randy, owner of the Fieldstone Stables, held off selling that nice bit of horseflesh because he knew Jarrod would give in to her pleas and buy it soon enough."

Gian’s heart lurched when the wonderful picture was whisked away. He wanted one.

"She spoke of your memory loss. I don’t like the picture that painted, or how it’s going to taint everyone’s first impressions of you. But I suppose, as long as her reputation and trade is never disgraced, I don’t have anything to say about it. Let that be settled between us."

Gian’s stomach surged with nausea. He wasn’t native to the planet. Would that revelation serve her if it ever got out?

Lyndon growled. "I knew it. I know her. It’s a lie concocted to cover a past you’d like kept quiet."

Gian was too startled to speak. Getting caught lying was certainly humiliating, and by an Elder?

Lifting his cap, Lyndon scratched his head, his brows tightly knit. "As long as she remains your priority, I won’t press."

In defiance of Lyndon’s ugly thoughts, Gian defended himself. "Not criminal," he said, struggling for a better explanation. "Sad sack."

A smile crinkled Lyndon’s face. "Now, I like that. Fate can play cruel tricks on a man sometimes; I know that from working here for three score plus years. There were some of that nature who passed through here. Depending on the man and his work ethic, Jarrod didn’t press for the details. Good honest workers without criminal convictions, that’s what mattered. I trusted Jarrod’s judgment, I trust his daughter’s. It’s time for a tour. I want to test what you’ve learned and how much you need to be taught."

"Have one p.m. appointment."

"Sounds like a lunch date."

Gian flexed his hands on the crutch handles, not sure where to go from here. He relied on what Angel would do if she were here. "Lyndon is included."

His assistant manager set a thoughtful gaze on him. "There’s a shot of tradition to my old bones. Thank you much. I accept. Let’s take that quick tour."

Gian followed after Lyndon, gritting his teeth against the complaint of the savage ache in his shoulders. Heart already pounding, he hoped he passed this next test.

Lyndon strolled past the white administration barn and onto the next building, the infirmary. "I have to warn you about the sad sack plan. You’re gonna need those nerves of steel because it’s going to look like insanity to everyone except Angel. Now hobble along faster on those sticks while I explain."

A few moments later, they stood in the show-grooming bay. Gian’s anxiety had changed to excitement; Lyndon’s idea was shrewd and wise.

Tugging on the newly replaced eyebolts in the thick beam, Lyndon nodded with approval. "When you buy, excellent leathers only. They can be the difference between safety and injury. Angel took a nasty spill off her horse when she was twelve. A fancy new cinch tore at the buckles on her saddle. She broke her arm, but she could’ve been hurt worse since she was at a canter through the woods. Jarrod was furious and never bought from the company again. Next is a trip to town to meet all the shopkeepers from whom you’ll be ordering."

Gian stifled a sigh of concern. The idea of leaving Angel’s protected haven was intimidating. "Tomorrow."

Lyndon eyed him sharply. "As long as it happens. You’re also going to need a veterinarian and a spare. Jake Tynes worked for Jarrod, but he’s a resident of Laurel Hill Cemetery, too now. His son, Scott, followed his trade and has a very good reputation around these parts. Like Jeremy Cooke, he’s wise enough to know a great working opportunity, too."

Gian understood instantly what Lyndon didn’t say. He’d been listening quite a while before he’d introduced himself. No other way could he have known what had been discussed.

For an old man, Lyndon walked very fast. Gian struggled to keep up. Answering the endless questions Lyndon threw at him about stable operation and care of the beasts was easy. But too quickly, wobbly painful muscles drove Gian to stop and lean against the clapboards of the tack building. He closed his eyes and let the sunlight warm his face while he struggled to catch his breath. Dreaming of a soft recliner, Gian sighed miserably. His shoulders burned, screaming of the abuse, his palms throbbing in unison. A dull thud in his thigh completed his sorrow. To add insult, his head floated a few octons above his neck. Even his stomach grumbled about the long stretch of time since the morning meal. He missed Angel, too.

"You aren’t long on endurance or strength. Your lanky form needs toughening up, that’s a fact. It’s to your benefit that you’re all heart. A man has to have something to rely on if he lacks physical strength."

Gian’s eyes shot open at the jab.

Lyndon grinned and stared intently. "Come July, I’ll test your meager power. We’ll see who can toss a bale of good hay the farthest."

Uninterested, Gian let his lids droop. Tossing a bale of hay further than Lyndon would hardly impress Angel, so why bother?

"Takes a lot of hard conditioning, and of course, a hearty diet full of proper nutrition."

Lyndon’s jacket crinkled as he leaned over slightly to check if he cared.

"Yes, Sir, I remember the last bale toss this stable hosted. Back when Eric wasn’t wearing stuffy suits yet, he used to work here occasionally, just to impress Jarrod. Another boy took a fancy to Angel. Eric burned red hot with jealousy. An argument between the young men led to a fist fight. I intercepted and turned the fist fight into an old fashioned challenge."

So human, Gian thought tiredly. They were always nursing wounded feelings about their self-importance.

"I’ll never forget Angel’s expression when he whipped off his shirt because it was binding him. She’s a fancy for a big man. Sometimes I wonder if she forgave Eric’s bad behavior so often because she liked the way the Lord built him."

Gian’s eyes snapped open.

Lyndon coughed. "Don’t know about you, but I’m ready to raid Angel’s kitchen for some grub." He rubbed his stomach. "You got the strength to make it back?"

Gian inventoried himself.

"If not, I could always go get Angel and have her carry you up to your bed."

Mood growing stony, Gian pushed off the wall, staring down at his feet to make sure they weren’t tangled. The true nature of Lyndon’s pokes finally sank home and he chuckled.

Lyndon grinned. "You seem scarce on flaws, and have a sense of humor, too, underneath all that careful control. Even when you’re pushed to the limits of your meager endurance."

The barb struck Gian solid in a new place inside him. He groaned and stared at Lyndon. "In July, toss bale further than Lyndon."

Lyndon guffawed. "Yeah?"

Gian’s brows raised. "Yes."

Lyndon let out a hoot. "You’ve got less than a chance in hell of beating me."

"Defeat Lyndon."

"Hope you know how to pray."

"Not necessary. Determination will prevail." Strange fire pumped through Gian’s veins. Whatever action would make Angel favor him more, he would do. Straightening despite the throbbing ache in his upper body, Gian stared proudly at Lyndon. "Time for lunch."

~ * ~

Gian hid his pain the best he could the entire walk up to the house. By the time he passed over the threshold, nausea crept up his throat. His pulse throbbed so loudly in his head he could barely hear anything else. Focusing on the chair by the hearth, he barely completed his turn before he plopped into it. While fighting to silence the groan of relief that rose from deep inside, he sank into a stupor, unaware that he dozed off until he woke two hours later.

Angel leaned against the counter. Her arms were crossed, her chin set stubbornly. "Was there really a need to push yourself so hard? You missed a meal you needed. Even I could hear your stomach growling on your way in the door. Lyndon tells me that you challenged him to a hay toss."

He challenged Lyndon? Should he say Lyndon purposely goaded him with the only issue he considered important? He shrugged the incident off, but grimaced when the muscles in his neck knotted painfully.

Angel tucked her shiny hair behind her ear with one finger. "Gian, please get up and sit on that stool by the table, would you?" She pointed to it.

To appear strong, Gian put on a mask of well being as he struggled to his feet. Once up, his head swam. Leaning heavily on his crutches, he clenched his jaw to keep from crying out when he set his tender palms on the handgrips.

"Why are you trying to pretend you aren’t in terrible discomfort? Do you really think I can’t tell? Even Lyndon could tell. He recommended the very same treatment you’ve been refusing for weeks. Now that you’ve committed to a toss, you’ve no choice but to submit, unless you’re planning to lose."

Gian sank down onto the small stool, tiredly dragging his arms to his thighs. Oh how he wished this seat had a back to it. "Not going to lose. Work hard to win," he told her, envisioning all the muscle he had to put on to match Eric’s strong build. Though Gian was taller and wider, there was a noticeable difference in their muscles.

Angel moved her beautiful face octons from his, her expression challenging. Her fragrance and heat gently settled around him. "I can relieve some of your pain if you’d only admit you need the care. You could soak your hands in Epsom salts at the end of the day to help with the pain, and I’ll put softer, spongier grips on your crutch handles. Then get used to the term ‘massage’, because you’re going to need one every day."

When she moved behind him, Gian listened, acutely aware of her nearness by the soft swish of her dress. "Of what use is massage?" he asked tiredly.

"It relaxes the muscles so they can heal. It prevents further injuries by calming the overworked area. You’ll be instructing many a worker to do the same for horses in training."

Holding his breath, Gian jerked when her small hands slid over his shoulders and down his chest as if she did this to him all the time. She deftly undid three buttons and dragged the open lapels of his shirt down his arms. Liquid anxiety pumped through his veins as exquisite caresses smoothed up and over his shoulders. The contrast of her softness compared to his hardness was scandalous and wonderous at the same time.

"Wow, you’re really, really tight."

Gian steeled against the improper contact meant only for sexual coupling. Her fingers splayed and kneaded one particularly painful knot in his neck. Shame and delight clashed inside him. He opened his mouth to tell her to stop but no words came out.

"You’ve been eating ravenously for months and that’s put weight on your large frame, but I get the impression that you’ve always been on the light side. Whenever anyone trains to increase mass, daily massage is advisable. You’re going to need it and more for the toss. Lyndon may be eighty three, but he’s as strong as an ox."

Shivers of relief ran down Gian’s arms, up his neck, across his scalp. Her hands glided over his flesh as if they knew where all the pains were trying to hide. When they bunched up at the base of his neck, her fingers pressed in a rhythmic motion until the tension fled and settled at the base of his skull. Her hands were in close pursuit. But allowing her to touch him was wrong.

Against his will, a low, breathless moan escaped. Angel chuckled under her breath.

She moved her attention between his shoulder blades as if searching for more painful spots. "You know, you’re actually a very big man, your bone frame is very thick, but I guess a scholar’s work doesn’t entail much physical labor, does it? Pushing yourself the way you do with the crutches has actually worked you out quite nicely. And the hard work at the Stables is going to change you, fill you out a lot, too. Can’t wait to see you this time next year."

Again, Gian’s mouth opened to object, but only a puff of air came out.

This was therapy. He could allow it.

Pressing hard against the stiffness of his upper arms with skillful fingers, she chased away the burning ache. But her beguiling scent sailed up his nose again. Gian stiffened. This female was his chosen, not a doctor; that meant this glorious contact was taboo.

When she leaned to knead the painful places on his left arm, her huge breast grazed his skin. Gian’s eyes flew open, his breath stopped in shock, but he was fascinated by the incredible cushy softness of her.

"You’ve been walking around in tremendous discomfort, more than you should have allowed."

The sensual glide of her palms over his neck wrung a tiny sigh of repletion from him. The war inside forced him into a stupor of indecision. His eyelids drooped shut.

"What did you think of Lyndon?"

"Elder," he whispered. Gian surrendered and sagged. He bent his head slightly offside to accommodate her search.

"Elder?" She ran her fingertips firmly up the back of his head, through his hair. "Is that good?"

Shivers rippled underneath his skin. "Yes," he barely whispered. Another soft moan trickled out of his throat against his will.

Angel huffed. "I can’t picture you challenging Lyndon to a very human contest of strength. It’s not like you. It’s so…human."

Gian opened his eyes halfway. The very moment she spoke of zoomed back.

"...I think she forgave Eric his bad behavior so often because she liked the way the Lord built him..." Lyndon had said to goad him.

"Not going to tell me, huh?"

She rubbed over his arms, up his neck with a tender, leisurely slide, across his shoulders. Melted with relief, his body was tuned to her touch. For a moment, the urge to procreate tickled in the back of his mind. Gian choked on air. "Cease, Angel!"

Her hands flew off him. She darted from behind him, skittering a few steps away, her big blue eyes wide with surprise. "I’m... uh... I’m... uh..." she trailed off, looking genuinely confused.

Despite his alarm, she could still make him smile. "Forgive, Angel." She’d only been administering nursing care, not initiating... "Tro^ians not touch."

Her brows knit, one hand parked on her hip. "Not touch? Obviously, Tro^ians do, or else you would not have been born."

"Only reason Tro^ians do touch, to create offspring."

Her jaw dropped.

Gian’s jaw tightened. How like a libidinous human to find decent restraint...bewildering.

"You guys don’t hug to show affection, or kiss, or give therapeutic massages when someone’s muscles are aching?"

"Not need therapeutic massages on homeworld. And certainly no deviant oral contact," he retorted.

"Deviant oral contact?" Angel’s slim shoulders shook.

She was laughing at him! Gian surged with affront, his head waggled in challenge. "Revolting." Her superior grin was even more annoying than her laughter had been.

"You can’t possibly say that unless accuracy of the facts isn’t important. You’ve never been kissed, or...anything else from a loving mouth, so how would you know if it’s revolting? Unless you observe and try out these deviant acts, you’ll never know if it is indeed revolting, or if you’ve just been conditioned to think it is."

Gian grumbled at her vexing perspective. "Humans depraved."

"Depraved?" She huffed. "You know, Mr. Daushur, I hate to admit this, but deep down, you’re a judgmental snob. You scholars have all the answers; the Tro^ian way is the only correct way, the only moral way," she said mockingly, her hand over her heart. "Why bother doing any research at all if you’re not going to throw yourself fully into the investigation? You should refrain from research at all for the most important reason--you’ll be really unhappy when you compile ‘all’ your data and discover that you’ve done a half-assed job."

Gian was shocked to be speechless. The human had stymied the Tro^ian in a battle of wits. The delight twinkling in Angel’s eyes, and the smile she worked hard to keep off her face, did him in. "Tro^ious Acron not ever know a time when children bear children and not take care of them!"

"Oh, please. The custom of making love to your darling is not the same thing as irresponsible sex amongst unmarried youths. Not that you will ever learn that, delicately virginal as you are."

"Gian not virgin," he grumbled.

"Right." Angel snorted. "You know nothing of heavenly intimacy of the heart, only a dutiful coupling to create offspring," she said snidely. "There is a big difference between making love and having sex to conceive."

"Human way not only ‘right’ way, either," Gian said with a brittle tone. He crossed his arms over his chest, daring her to challenge that truth.

"I never said it was. I merely insisted you check it out before you brand it as bad." Her hands parked on her curvy hips again and a knowing smile spread unkindly across her mouth. "But I noticed that you waited until I was nearly finished with this ‘taboo touching’ to object."

She did it again. Rendered him speechless. Gathering his crutches, Gian struggled up, aware that his shirt hung half off him. He stared down, vexed how to fix the problem without toppling over.

"Please, allow me. I’ll make sure I don’t touch your skin. I wouldn’t want to give you a heart attack."

Gian stewed as she straightened the material and rebuttoned the lapels. Angel had ‘propositioned’ him, as humans would call it. Offered him an intimate view of human sex for research purposes. She hadn’t said it outright, but that’s what she meant.

"Try to remember that although I gave you a massage and buttoned your shirt with illegal touching, we didn’t end up in a carnal clinch on the floor. Us savages do have some control." Angel stepped back. Her challenging mode turned repentant. "Gian, despite your beliefs that all touching is sinful, you’d be a fool to reject the medical benefit of massage. Unless you plan to lose to Lyndon in July."

Unsettled, Gian dropped his gaze and shuffled towards the hallway arch. He almost kept going, but he had to do the right thing. He had to yield to his messenger angel, or else he didn’t deserve her. Turning, he was almost undone by the air of victory around her.

"Grateful for care."

She shrugged one shoulder. "You’re welcome."

A messenger angel was a provoking gift. The one he’d been blessed with insisted he throw away his Tro^ian morals in favor of learning new ones. Hers.

Confused and vexed, Gian headed to his room.

Gian’s devoted search to secure Angel’s ‘motivational gift’, as Lyndon called it, took two very long stressful weeks of meeting dozens and dozens of new humans.

He’d devoured every source available--five ‘on-line’ hours emailing queries and following up on leads; twenty different daily newspapers; thirty-two phone calls to private owners in the county; verbal exchange with eighteen employees of the five feed and grain stores in a twenty mile radius of Angel’s homestead; five veterinarians; and fifteen stable owners and dealers.

Four days ago, a tip from the proprietor of the feed and grain in the neighboring town south of the Stables yielded the product he sought. Today was delivery day.

Quick stepping with his crutches down the gravel road to the stable compound, Gian prayed for mercy. "Lyndon please be correct."

Not another failure, please, not now, not with a presentation for Angel.

The past weeks had been achingly difficult with her. The bitter argument following his first ‘massage’ had tainted their growing relationship. The very next day, he’d set aside his ‘moral sense’ and asked her to perform daily treatments for the therapeutic value. Secretly, he did it only to please her. Though, he found the sessions pure heaven. She liked touching him and since her human sexuality was the only avenue open to him presently, he used it.

Despite his strategy, the rift born between them that eve had not healed one bit. She spent her time alone, seemingly lost in thought.

Disheartened, Gian sighed. Being out of her grace was a cold, lonely place. And she was so easy to please. What kind of wretch was he to repulse her so completely?

They hadn’t watched a single documentary together, taken one evening stroll in the large yard and gardens around the house, nor spent one second of time talking about any of their joint interests. The unspoken courtship between them had ceased.

Desperately, he wanted it back.

Halfway to the large iron gates of the Stables, Gian caught sight of a young, well-built stone mason reconditioning the rock walls lining the road. The man was dressed objectionably in a soil and dust streaked tee shirt and equally dirty jeans, but his perfect human physique drew all the attention. The fitter man’s thick muscles flexed as he balanced a large stone as if it were weightless.

Gian grumbled under his breath, feigning pleasantness as he passed by. The rugged worker nodded politely and smiled.

Returning the gesture, Gian fought his plummet into the ugly emotion of envy. Never in his entire life had he known the insidious, dark feeling existed, but he did now.

On his way up to the house after work one night last week, he’d stopped near the palettes of stone supplies. Hiding in the shadows of the setting sun as it shone through the maple tree canopy, he made sure no one was looking. He singled out one of the large rocks off the pile and tried to lift it. Not only was it uncomfortably heavy, it dug into his hands, leaving deep impressions in his skin after he dropped it.

Humans were far stronger and infinitely more robust than Tro^ians.

The toss challenge was only five weeks and three days away. He’d not yet had the type of hard exercise that employee had. No scientific formula would help him win, only sheer strength and coordination would work. Lyndon had suggested hearty dining to help the process of strength building, but that only made him constantly hungry, not stronger. Gian was quickly putting on so much weight he considered fasting to slow his appetite down.

Disability was hell. "Want cast off!" he muttered under his breath.

Gian stopped dead at the crest of the hill. Down at the complex, a dirty, dented truck and trailer backed in a stilted motion through the white gates of the sales paddock. Clenching with revulsion, he felt what little hope he’d dared to have slowly dissipate.

A warm, fragrant breeze whooshed over the field and waved through his hair, but he found no relief in it. Down below was his next spectacular failure. Why had he listened to Lyndon?

Dutiful, he headed down the hill without delay.

Lyndon looked over his shoulder. "Well, here you come, fifty miles an hour on those sticks. I knew you wouldn’t be kept down much longer." Lyndon shot Danny a wry look. "He’s still doomed for the toss."

Gian was too loaded with anxiety to feel a sense of competition. Instead, he focused on the unkempt trailer and truck. The Wright Stables horse trailers were shiny and sparkling clean, the exact opposite of this...stomach-roiling sight.

"I wonder what we have here," Lyndon drawled, slid his hands in his pant’s pockets.

"It ain’t likely to be class, Lyndon." Danny shoved the tip of his pipe between his teeth. "What’s in that ratty trailer, Gian?"

"Sad sack for Miss Wright."

"Sad sack?" Danny snorted. "What’s she need that for?"

Gian winced in defeat. Well, he was ‘divorced’. And exiled on earth. Did he really expect glorious victory with Angel?

Lyndon shook his finger under Gian’s nose. "Remember what I told you?"

Gian recited the law in a dull tone. "Angel always welcomes orphans."

"She adopted you, didn’t she?"

Ha ha…Gian thought dismally of Lyndon’s attempt at humor. Angel took him in because she had no choice.

The beat-up truck finally slowed, its screechy grating brakes another testament to the travesty waiting inside the horse carrier. The driver got out, slammed shut his creaky door and appeared at the back of the trailer. The old man appraised them in a quick, cold glance. His pallid, skinny face was angry and permanently pinched into a mean frown. He was poorly groomed and his disheveled gray hair looked as if he washed and combed it last week. Dirty clothes were faded and rumpled; old boots were scuffed most the way through in some places. Gian imagined the mud they sank in had to be leaking into them, too. Completely repulsed, he felt sweat bead on his temples.

As the man swung open the scratched and battered trailer doors, Gian almost wished he would just get back into his damaged truck and go away. The purchase of two sad sack horses for Angel couldn’t come from a more fitting handler.

"Get yer asses outa my trailer, you tramps." When the filthy rump of a gigantic beast emerged, he meanly snagged it with a quick jab of a whip. A puff of dust rose up and was carried off on the breeze. Gian gaped. The animal was colossal.

Half the man disappeared into the trailer. Foul language echoed out the door. A few more cracks of the whip backed the huge tottering beast down the ramp. When it nearly misstepped off the side of the ramp, Gian willed it to stay upright. Bony and gaunt, the animal looked dreadfully ill and seemed ready to fall down.

Lyndon and Danny grumbled in shock and outrage. A powerful ache crushed Gian’s heart. That was more than a sad sack. It was a crime. Or should be.

"Got no idea why you want these useless bums, lessen you got extra feed to waste. Gonna shoot em for my hunting dogs’ food, I was." The old man snapped his long whip down on the horse’s nose again. The towering beast had only enough strength to jerk its giant low-slung head.

Gian surged with fury. "Leave beast be!"

A quick snarl was thrown Gian’s way. "Do what you want with these nags, just pay my delivery bill." He slapped the whip against the shank of his dirty boot. Crossing over the low side of the ramp, he stuck it through the door and thrashed hard back and forth.

A much smaller, but equally unkempt, skinny horse rushed backwards from the trailer. It scurried sideways until it stood very nearly underneath its massive companion.

Lyndon’s face was pale and stricken. "May the good Lord have mercy on those poor bastards."

A familiar tinkle of laughter in the distance alerted Gian. He looked over his shoulder. Angel walked toward him from the parking area. May Ushuatan have mercy, what disastrous timing. And she wasn’t alone. "Eric," he said miserably under his breath. Gian swiveled and took a few steps to meet her. He used his body as a blockade to stop her from seeing what was behind him.

Angel’s smile was polite, the way it had been for days and days. "Did I hear you shout a few moments ago?"

Gian would have done anything to stop this moment in time. He almost reached out and grasped her face when she tried to look around him. Gagging on his breath, he croaked, "Laws against this terrible treatment?"

A fearful expression quickly replaced her happy mood. "Laws? Against what?"

"Jesus Christ Almighty, you’ve got to be kidding, right?" Eric shot Gian an offensive, superior smirk.

A rumble dissent amongst assistant managers and stablehands rippled through the small crowd around Gian.

Angel sidestepped Gian. Her blue eyes went wide and she inhaled sharply. Trotting to the gate, she went faster with each step. She swung her small fist at the shocked old man, shouting, "How dare you treat any of the Lord’s good creatures this way! Get out!"

A gnarled finger jabbed back at her. "You just pay my delivery fee."

"Delivery fee? I’m going to report you to the authorities, pal! Expect a bill for reimbursement of their medical and recovery needs!"

"You best pay me, Miss Wright, this is a fair deal."

Angel bent down, grabbed two big mud chunks and flung them at him. One clod struck him squarely on the shoulder and splattered his chin and the tip of his nose. His jaw went slack for a moment before he fled into his truck. Tires spun in the mud, leaving deep grooves behind in his wake.

Gian’s heart thumped with esteem. Angel was glorious, savage and warlike. Her beautiful face was tight with angry purpose as she righteously protected the abused beasts.

Beside him, Eric gave a hearty laugh of admiration. The tone irritated Gian to the core. He scowled and was caught off guard when Eric saw it.

Eric’s smile was cold and brittle, his dark brown eyes flashed with menace.

Gian heard himself grunt threateningly in reply.

The barest hint of an evil smile curved one corner of Eric’s mouth.

Angel will choose Gian…he willed Eric to understand telepathically. Functioning on adrenaline, Gian gave Eric a dismissive frown and went to watch and learn while his messenger angel healed the abused horses with her magical way. He was heartened to hear his assistant managers’ footfalls crunching behind him.

Angel ambled to the suffering creatures. "I’m so sorry, so sorry. He had no right to treat you this way," she cried, slowly reaching up to the huge horse’s dirty nose. Pulling the massive head lower, she slid her arm around the scabbed coat on its neck. "Life can be good here, I promise." Her voice quivered softly. "We’ll take care of you."

Suddenly, Eric stood beside Gian. He leveled a scornful gaze down his nose. "Good purchase, great eye for value, and an incredibly shrewd deal for Miss Wright’s money."

Jabbed in a very sensitive place, Gian snarled in defense much louder than he expected to. "Cost not issue!"

"Leave him alone, Stevenson. You ain’t in on the whole deal, so stow it!" Danny barked with iron in his tone. "Lyndon, the first thing she’s going to ask for is the vet, so I’m going to go call. I’ll send out some hands with halters and leads. Sure enough, she’s going to bring them to the infirmary and give em a bath, so I’ll get it prepared."

Lyndon nodded. "Good idea." He flicked his eyes to Gian. "Let’s go help Angel."

Gian followed behind Lyndon to the gate.

Angel reached into her pocket and offered a small niblet of carrot to the little horse. It sidled away. Its ears were pricked forward at her like antenna, it refused her gift of food. She didn’t force an encounter, only gave it a sad, kindly smile. "You’re safe now. You’ll come to understand that." Tucking the treat away, she headed for the men.

Wiping the tear-streams off her cheeks, Angel halted in front of the men. "Lyndon, the Vet? Infirmary bay? Mash and fresh water buckets?"

"No need to insult me by asking, Angel," he jested sadly.

Angel turned moist blue eyes to Gian. He gagged silently, his hands shaking on the crutch handles.

Eric waved one hand at the paddock. "Obviously your manager doesn’t understand what the term ‘investment’ means."

She cast a brief frown at Eric, then ignored him. "Gian, I hope we can save them."

Gian felt twenty deca-octons taller. Savage pleasure racing through his veins, he stared over her head at Eric, hoping to see him self-destruct in public.

"You’ve got to be kidding me!" Eric’s tone of disbelief echoed around the area. Workers stopped their chores to stare.

Angel whispered gruffly, "Eric, please!"

"How can you validate this purchase?" he wheezed with disbelief.

Her lips thinned.

"Oh, for Christs sake. Imagine my success if I ran my business the way your manager does. I can’t bear this. Congratulations, you own two nasty, filthy, starving horses, the first of many fine steeds for the famed Wright Stables."

Angel shrugged one shoulder.

Eric shot Gian a contemptuous look and headed to his fancy car in the small admin. parking lot.

Hanging on the nuances of her expressions, Gian suffered the long agonizing seconds she just stared instead of speaking to him.

"Gian, I hope you’re up for a crash course in emergency care. We have to get busy or those poor horses are going to starve to death just standing where they are."

The first invite to do anything at all with her in two weeks. And with everyone watching. The incredible success almost moved him to tears of joy. A success, finally!

"Lyndon?"

"Yes, ma’am?"

"Have one of the stablehands call the police."

"With pleasure."

Angel reached out and gently squeezed Gian’s forearm. "Record every medicine and first aid we use, our time, water, feed, record everything so we can bill the ‘previous owner’. I’m so sorry you were introduced to horses this way. So sorry."

Gian’s eyes misted. "No beast should suffer so."

Danny rejoined them, his shoulder weighted down with thick leather straps. "Hands are preparing the bay. Here’s a couple halters and lead ropes. This one may fit the heavy, hopefully. He’s a big one despite all his bones are sticking out," he grumbled bitterly.

Gian felt like a useless commodity when Angel, Lyndon and Danny formed a working trio handling the huge stricken beast. He edged to the gatepost, wishing he could help.

They slid the halter over its massive head. "I will relieve your suffering, come with me," Angel said in a soothing voice that struck a familiar chord in Gian’s mind.

He remembered that calm, gentle tone from the beginning days when he was in great pain and misery. Her seductive promise of comfort had saved him from slipping away many times. He knew instinctively that the great horse was listening.

"Well, it’s now or never." Lyndon stepped backwards with the black lead strap in his hand.

Angel smoothed her palm across the animals’ neck, her other hand slipping around the strap near its nose. "Come on, big guy, you have to get to the barn for me. It’s warm and protected, there’s food and water. Let’s go."

While the pair in front pulled, Danny’s boots slid in the mud as he pushed against the filthy rump with his whole body weight. The big horse jerked mightily as if to comply, but the first unsteady step sank deep into the mud and stayed there.

Gian tensed to toss away his crutches and hop to Angel’s rescue if the horse fell over. But its troubled gait smoothed by the time they crossed over the gravel road.

"Surprised skinny beast walking at all." He followed as close to her as he could without getting in her way.

She gave him a tremulous smile. "He’s run down to his last efforts. Like you’d been when I found you. This burst of energy is all from the heart, the same way you gave me. You’re a treasure, Gian; you know that, don’t you? To have a heart big enough to help suffering orphans."

Drugged by her endorsement, Gian floated on elation the rest of the way to the infirmary bay.

You’re a treasure, Gian. His former mate had never once in five years looked deep into his eyes and said that to him. Another success.

The slow rhythmic clip-clop of the animals’ hooves across the concrete floor held Gian spellbound. When they stopped, reality set in. He sidled out of the way and leaned against a large wooden beam, flexing his sore hands on the crutch handles.

"Danny, show the little one the bucket of grain, he may eat. Throw in some extra barley and corn. Did you reach the vet?" Angel reached down for the neatly coiled water hose near the drain.

"He’s on his way."

Lyndon stopped beside her. "I’ll put in the call to the precinct, Angel. Keep that drinking water lukewarm," he ordered a stable hand filling two shiny metal buckets from another hose. Lyndon faced Gian fully and slowly walked toward him, eyes drilling straight into his.

The private purpose in his Elder gaze mesmerized Gian.

Lyndon stopped a few octons from the toe of Gian’s boot. "You certainly take instruction very well. You couldn’t have found two more perfect sad sack’s."

Well, he’d worked very hard to find exactly what Lyndon said he needed to tether Angel to the stables on a daily basis.

The sadness on Lyndon’s weathered face gave way to a gentle smile. "You did good…manager."

Gian let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He’d earned Lyndon’s full respect, finally.

"And as long as Angel’s happiness remains you’re first concern, my advice is always yours."

An aching emotion that actually felt good surged through Gian. "Aye am grateful."

A chuckle was loaded in with the sound of Lyndon’s sharp exhale. "Eeyye," he mocked Gian’s slow, heavy delivery of the pronoun under his breath. For a moment, Lyndon just considered him. "I came here for the cell phone, but I’ve reconsidered. I have work to do. I think the manager of the stables should make the official call to the precinct for the boss, don’t you?" Smiling kindly, Lyndon returned to the horses.

Danny walked around the horse, his palm dragging over the bony contours of its body. "Lyndon, that sonofabitch should be shot. This horse is nearly starved to death, and has infections in assorted wounds. I doubt he’ll eat. Probably have to resort to a tube feeding."

"He’ll drink, at least I hope so." Angel cupped her hand, filled it with water from the hose, and held it under the beast’s lips.

Lyndon returned and began at the front end of the horse, his study intent on the nasty, long raised scar on its massive shoulder. "He sucking any?"

"Yes, actually, quite a bit, though, slowly. Thirsty boy?" Water splashed all over her clean clothes and boots, but she seemed not to care.

Sitting on an overturned bucket, Danny encouraged the little horse to nibble on some corn from his hand. He held very still, humming a low, gentle song the way he did when he sat on the bench near the pasture during his work breaks. But as Angel had been to him when he recovered in her guest room, Danny was exceptionally kind and nurturing toward the horses.

Gian grumbled with frustration. Disabled, he couldn’t help them because he couldn’t get his damned cast near that steamy warm, free-flowing water. Stablehands stood in attendance to the Stables real bosses, tools and supplies in hand, two others calmly, slowly rolled out wide carpets over the floor around the horses.

As if on cue, a young female employee wearing an eager smile appeared in the hall doorway with an armful of his ledgers and pack of writing implements. "Grateful," Gian said to Janine.

As he opened his supply log, he sighed. All he could do was sit and record the event.

"Time for a bath, fella. Been a long time since you had one of these, hasn’t it?" Angel asked as she ran the water over her fingers. She gave a nod of approval to the hand at the faucet and lifted the hose and began wetting down the huge shoulder. "Anyone timing the vet?"

"Only been ten minutes since we called him, Angel." Lyndon moved to the animals’ head and began examining its ears gently.

"Well, it’s five minutes too slow." She massaged her fingers through the longish hair, dirty water cascading over her hands and down her arms. "Lyndon, there’s another wound up here under his mane. Partially healed, but there’s infection."

Lyndon released the horse’s mouth, shaking his head. "Got a broken tooth that needs extraction. Gum tissue is angry red and swollen, he’ll need antibiotics."

"He’ll need them just for good measure." Angel turned to Gian. "What’s your assessment of its condition?"

Gian’s heart skipped a beat when everyone stopped whatever they were doing and looked at him. "Starvation most likely cause, but wasting could be because of parasite infestation, virus or disease."

Angel gave a small, warm smile then resumed the bath. "Where’s that damn vet?"

"Right here, Miss Wright."

At the teasing emphasis on her name, no doubt, Angel jerked a look over her shoulder. Then a horrible thing happened. Her serious expression curved upward, becoming warm and friendly. "Jim! I’m so glad it’s you."

"It’s a new era for the Wright Stables, Angel. Ours. I hope we’re as successful as our parents were."

"Oh, Jim, help these horses. Please say you can."

The good-looking man came toward Angel, his face pinching. "Who the hell is responsible for this?"

"Oh, we’re on him already, Jim. My manager is recording our case as we make it. Police are coming. They’re even slower than you."

Jim dropped his medical bag on the short stack of emergency supply crates and shook off his coat. "My timing was good, considering this is the first emergency call I’ve gotten since I was hired." He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-up shirt. "Thank you for the call, Angel. I’ve missed this place the past five years."

"So have I. So have I." Angel carefully washed the matted coat of the horse’s wide chest. Gian could see her mentally recording every minute detail. "I’m so glad you’re our resident."

Dr. Wonderful sifted through his bag. "I’m honored to be working with you again," he said as he filled a syringe from a small glass bottle.

The next thirty-eight minutes, Gian was awed by their teamwork, and jealous not to be part of it. They each took a duty without having to discuss who would do what. They spoke little to each other, surprisingly. What they did utter was quiet and abrupt, like Tro^ian vernacular, but most of their communication consisted of nods, jerks of the head, shifts of the eyes. All the while, they remained unnaturally calm and nurturing to the horses as if nothing was wrong. The pony was even starting to relax under this care. Show trust.

The communion between humans and beasts held Gian spellbound. He’d been taught that only an enlightened soul had this special ability with the animals. But these humans did it so naturally. Again, Tro^ian research on this race was flawed. How could that be?

The veterinarian paid as much attention to Angel as he did the horses. He was Angel’s age, human, and worst of all, interested in her.

Jim pulled out another long needle from the horse’s rump and pressed a white pad over the site. "What are the breeds, experts?"

With his arm still curled around the huge head, Lyndon stroked his weathered fingers over its nose. "Stands seventeen hands."

"Feather in the ankle, color’s not clear just yet," Angel murmured as she worked.

"Could be a Shire." Danny swiped a dripping soft-bristle brush behind Angel’s gentle hand bath. "Once he’s healthy and filled out we’ll be able to see his true coat."

Gian perked. A chance to prove his worth to Angel. "Brabant, Belgian Heavy Draught. Short back. Thinness is deceiving."

All eyes turned to him again.

"He’s got a better view from over there," Lyndon said through a slight smile.

Angel appraised him from under thick dark lashes. "No, he’s right." Approval sparkled in her eyes. "Now tell us what the pony is."

No success in Gian’s life ever inspired the fulfillment he felt at this moment. Eager to please his messenger angel, he assessed the little horse.

It danced nervously under his scrutiny, studying him in return.

Falling into the big trusting eyes, time ceased to exist. He realized this dumb beast was well aware of his precarious situation in life. Wishing he could speak to it and offer comfort made places deep inside him ache. His messenger angel was right again.

Just as suddenly as it began, the encounter ended. The pony dipped his head into the bucket at his feet, corn and oats falling off its nose when it came back up. It munched hungrily.

Gian missed its regard already. Seeing the horses through a new set of eyes, or maybe, through an open heart, he looked forward to getting to know them.

"Well, would you look at that, a bonding has taken place."

Expecting to find a teasing look on Lyndon’s face, Gian was relieved by the simple friendship and approval. Eager to please the Elder, he said, "Dale. Pony from New Britain."

When Danny scoffed, the pony spooked. "No way. This ain’t no Dale. Dales are bigger."

"Small for size. Feather on feet, thick, strong bones."

Angel chuckled. "I’ll wager fifty bucks the manager is right."

"Fifty bucks?" Lyndon said dubiously. "Sure of yourself, aren’t you?"

"Sure of him," Angel corrected Lyndon.

Lyndon chuckled. "Well, I agree with him."

Overwhelmed, Gian struggled to keep his composure. So many successes, and in such a short span of time. When the vet eyed him, Gian was surprised again. Instead of the menace he’d expected to see, there was the suggestion of regret. Empathy for Jim Tynes gave him a new observation to record in the human courtship section of his anthropological report. Some human males did respect the claim of another over a woman. His first subjects, Eric and Jeremy, had simply been lousy examples of the civilized people most humans really were.

Gian resumed scribing in relative contentment, his heart full. While researching at the great library of Tro^ious Acron had always been his idea of a satisfying venture, Gian honestly couldn’t imagine wanting to be any where else in the galaxy than right here, with this group of eighteen human beings and two rundown beasts. He’d never felt more alive, and content.

The vet handed Lyndon the horses’ broken tooth. Lyndon rolled it around in his palm. "Broken on the outside, probably from a blow." He smoothed his hand up the great horse’s neck and patted softly on a clean spot. "Never happen here, boy, trust me. The hell is over," he murmured softly.

The police officer arrived. Though nervous to face him again, Gian gave him all the information he had. Shortly after that, a reporter from the local newspaper fished for a story he promised would be in the morning edition. Gian barely escaped an interview. But since the reporter studied him often the whole time he was there, Gian was sure some word of him would be in the article anyway. Seems the new manager of the Wright Stables provoked intense interest by everyone in town. Angel had told him to expect it, and not to worry about it. Gian chaffed anyway from the paranoia of being figured out and revealed for what he was.

Set comfortably on a bale of hay, another as his backrest, Gian lowered his mechanical pencil, his eyes riveted on her. She was completely drenched. Her dress clung to her curvy body, outlining her bounties with disturbing clarity.

Irritated, Gian swept his gaze around the area. The older men watched her discretely; their appreciative assessments kept mostly private. However, the younger men stared more openly and were obscenely bolder with their comments to each other. Only when they noticed his glower at them did they show the proper work attitude and focus on their duties. But Gian saw their glances dart towards her when they thought he didn’t see.

Gian was well aware she was a high-quality specimen of her race, but it was rude to show the stable owner so little respect.

And how like human males to be thinking only of her physical virtues, ignoring her great ability as a leader and nurturer.

Wiping a trickle of sweat off his brow before it dripped onto his logbook, Gian lifted his eyes from his figures. Angel reached high, examining the blond mane for any remains of filth. The move exaggerated the curves of her breasts even more. The rust colored material of her dress clung like a second skin around them, accentuating their plump roundness.

Breathing in a deep draught of the warm, moisture rich air, Gian allowed his curiosity to develop into a quick daydream.

Gian lowered his head and resumed studying her from under his lashes. Would that ever happen between them?

She bent over, rounding her backside to drop the hose to the floor. When two stablehands shared a not so private smile between them at the sight, Gian’s fingers gripped on his pencil. He glowered at the pair.

As if by command, they noticed him. Though they broke off their silent exchange and resumed their duties, Gian’s gaze lingered on them.

Suddenly a wet boot landed with a loud splosh and slap just deca-octons in front of him. A tiny shower of water droplets splattered him.

Angel grinned. "Did I surprise you?"

The playful glint in her eyes made Gian steel for the next trick. With a kick of her leg, the other soaked boot sailed through the air and smacked down almost atop the other one, giving him another sprinkling.

Her brows knit, but her mouth twitched with a smile. "What are you scowling at? Are the workers taking time to breathe?"

He offered a wooden stare.

Angel giggled. "I’m hungry. Have any more of that bacon pizza that Will brought for dinner, or did you chow it all down?"

Water dripped from her hair until it reached the hem of her dress, it splattered on the floor at her wet bare feet in a dull thudded rhythm like a steady rain. Gian fought a smile. She was adorable, even drenched. "Now that task is complete, changing wet clothing is first priority."

"You had a change of clothes sent down for me? How wonderfully considerate."

Gian reached down towards a black leather pack. "In bag. Along with…under garments."

"Undergarments. How even more thoughtful. You’re a gem, Gian. I keep saying that." She glanced at the clock. "Gads, six thirty. Last I remember I was talking financial figures with Eric at two." Swiping her forearm across her temple, she looked over her shoulder at the horses. "Things are quieting down here now. Your new Belgian Draught napping again, enjoying a little relief. Jim shot him up with vitamins and antibiotics. He’s actually a nice medium gray-speckled brown. He’s a beauty with that blond mane, too, or will be, when he fills out again. Jim’s test detected no condition indicating the cause of his wasting. So, it’s a lot of feed, for many weeks. All very much along the same lines as your RX in the beginning."

The warm smile she flashed melted Gian’s heart.

Angel looked around them quickly. "I’m going behind that crate near you to change. No one will see me there. Make sure, okay?" She sank back behind the blind and set the folded dress down on a bale of hay. Wriggling her toes, she snickered. "I’m all pruny."

She yanked her dress over head.

Gian gagged on his breath and stared wide-eyed for a moment. He modestly turned straight ahead, but against his will, he focused on his peripheral vision.

She tossed the wet garment into the air. It landed with a wet splat. Though her hair clung and covered most of her body, her breasts were bared where the skimpy black lace of her brassiere ended across the expanse of pale white flesh. Her curvy hips were completely exposed, hidden only by the black lace of her matching panties.

"Angel needs privacy," he croaked from his tight throat.

"Well, with your unique customs, I’m in no danger of being fondled or raped, right? So, what the heck?"

Appalled by his inability to stop peeking, Gian was mesmerized when she removed the top undergarment and sent it to flight. Her wide based breasts were bare. They were huge, each one two good handsful. Only the small, dark shriveled nipples were normal looking. While she disrobed, they jiggled and bounced, the motion strangely succulent. They looked so soft and plush and inviting. His hand twitched over the pencil.

She slid off her panties. Gian marveled at the way her waist tapered in so abruptly, only to flair out just as abruptly to complete the exaggerated roundness of her hips. Ushuatan had designed human women to be a feast for the eyes, for the hands.

Scandalized that he might be caught staring, Gian jerked his eyes forward. He huffed in relief to find the few remaining people tending their various duties and not aware of his indiscretion. He breathed deliberately to slow his heartbeat down.

Mutinous thoughts towards home dragged a growl from inside and twisted his lips slightly. So what if he was Tro^ian with superior morals? He’d already had to sacrifice almost everything Tro^ian to fit in here. And besides, he was a failure on his homeworld, but a success here. With people he was beginning to like more and more. He was resisting fitting in because…why?

After all, Angel had already tried to kiss him. Surely, with time and patience, he could encourage her to do more. She had chastised him about researching human customs accurately for his report. Without thinking about it, Gian knew she didn’t mean for him to do it with any other woman but her. If she felt compelled to show him her bare body again, why should he refuse?

He startled when she sank down beside him on his bale of hay. Reclining back, she closed her eyes and sighed with relief. One arm draped over his thigh. Her head followed.

"Well, what did you think of all that, Gian?"

The intimacy of her touch made him tense, but when a stablehand walked by, Gian reached down and grabbed a blanket. Shaking it out, he draped it over Angel. Once the man was safely distanced, Gian took his hands off her.

Her cheek rubbed around against his leg before she stilled and yawned tiredly. "Well?"

"Horses require expansive care."

She mocked his words softly to herself. "That’s it? I mean about us. You’ve been watching me for a while, your expression strange. I’ve been afraid of what you think now."

Gian looked down at her, his brows drawn. "Angel saved beasts, gave comfort and care. All here work beyond normal duty to give aid."

"You saved them. I think you’re wonderful for that, too." Straightening stiffly with a tired moan, Angel drew in a deep breath. "I sure wish I’d had a camcorder filming the experience. I saw your shock when the vet took the Belgian’s temperature, from the back end? Your expression was unforgettable."

When that particular memory flashed through Gian’s mind, his cheeks warmed

"Gian?" Angel yawned and stretched, jutting her breasts out as she arched her back. "I was thinking a lot about your proposal to reopen the mines and start production. I have the feeling the extra work won’t phase you, and I trust you implicitly to represent my interests. So, if you wish to pursue it, the project is all yours."

Her endorsement filled the starving places inside him. "Aye am grateful."

Angel peeked over at him. "A pronoun. Your stubbornness against them is fading a little more, though it’s still in the way you drag the word along."

"Pizza is in the box, waiting."

Angel traveled on her hands and knees the short distance to the container. Seizing a cold slice, she took an enormous bite and barely chewed it before she swallowed. With a few more ravenous mouthfuls, she finished the piece. Immediately, she grabbed for another.

Kristen lifted her cup of steaming coffee to her lips, poised to drink. "Well, Angel, it’s Friday and Eric’s weekend with the boys. What’s on the menu for tonight?"

Angel’s smile was guarded as she looked out the small paned window at the colorful flower gardens in her backyard. Tonight, she would test one of her theories about Gian, using the new tan suede bikini she wore underneath her skimpy green sundress.

"I thought so." Kristen sipped. "That bottle of bubbly next to the half-packed dinner basket, goblets included, is kind of obvious."

"Oh." Angel set the bottle into the long section of the antique basket, tying the leather straps to keep it secure. Closing the wicker lid, she slid the carrier against the back of the countertop by the line of old cookbooks to hide it from plain view.

Kristen’s eyes lingered over it. "Eric knows, you know that? And surely, surely, you realize everyone easily sees how high your regard is for your very handsome manager."

"Oh?" Angel poured cool water into the vase for the roses she’d cut a little while ago this July afternoon.

"Really, Angel." Snickering softly, Kristen savored her coffee for a moment. "I can’t think of one woman who can blame you. Gian’s become quite the flavor, his cast off, and moving under his own power. I remember him in the beginning, thin, burned up, sick, hobbling around on crutches. Now look at him. How much weight has he gained? Forty pounds?"

Angel smiled demurely. "Try sixty nine."

"Mmm, that’s a nice number. He got big fast after Lyndon got a hold of him. And it’s all so very nicely placed. Hefty and healthy, he’s buff, Angel. That hair color is just outrageous in the sunlight, it’s looks like a great specialty dye job, it’s so beautiful, super shiny, thick and bouncy, sweeping past his wide muscular shoulders as it is now." Kristen whistled out softly.

Angel’s jaw muscles worked briefly. "You just keep your perfect body and blondy allure from under his nose, Kris."

Kristen smiled slightly, but it faded. "I think you should be careful with him, Angel."

"Why would you say that?" Carrying the flower-laden vase over to the telephone table, Angel slid it near to the corner. Trying to appear nonchalant, she fussed to place it perfectly. "I trust Gian to always work in my best interest. He shows that with his every action. Aren’t I supposed to judge him by his behavior rather than his beauty?"

Kristen’s finely arched brows knit. "Gian may be gorgeous, even clearly devoted to you, but he’s cold, as if he has no feelings, Angel. Beauty and ice. Rather than an enigmatic combination, he makes it an intimidating one. He certainly seems...benign, but he’s disturbingly remote. I’m not too fond of his unknown past, either."

Angel’s knees wobbled with fear, a shiver racing through body. Her nipples tightened from the cold chill and she crossed her arms over her chest to hide them. "He’s not cold. He’s just disciplined and excessively private. He has very strong feelings on many issues."

Kristen considered her for a moment. "He’s certainly not the average man, Angel, and you know exactly what I mean."

"I know he’s... unique." She swept her eyes around to make sure no one else was here and whispered, "But he’s also the first man I’ve wanted since..."

"Eric?"

Angel flinched at the mention of his name. Eric was an example of treacherous male beauty. Sweetness with a steep price: subjugation.

"Last time you followed your desire without thinking, you ended up pregnant with the twins an hour later."

Warmth flushed across Angel’s cheeks. She fought an embarrassed smile. "It was at least seven or eight, thank you."

...But Gian is unable to do such a deed... Sex with no chance of a half alien baby. What an incredible luxury she’d probably never know considering his prudish morals.

"Angel, you aren’t going to listen to me, I know that, but I still have to keep trying." Kristen set down her cup and went to the bench in the cloak closet. She opened her briefcase. "Here are the April invoices you asked for. If the one from Tidbury’s really exists, it’ll be in there. I already looked; it’s not in there. Though if we’d received an order, I assure you I’d have filed it correctly."

Angel smoothed her fingers across the inch thick catalog envelope. "I don’t doubt your efficiency, Kris, please believe me. You say it’s not in there, I don’t expect to see it. They’re a new company, already going through their second manager. When I talk to him on Monday, I wanted to be able to truthfully say I looked for their order."

"Thank you." Kristen straightened the lapels of her suit jacket. "Going anywhere special?"

Angel fiddled with the tie holding the top of her swimsuit at the neck. "Gian’s had a contractor working on the duckpond for almost two months now. I think it’s a nice evening to insist on a walk there. I can’t wait any longer."

Kristen pulled car keys from her handbag. "Yet another show of devotion from the new manager whom you deny is courting you? I can imagine what kind of suit you designed for him to wear," she said saucily. "A black leopardskin ‘G’ string? Mmmm, I’d like to see that myself."

Angel waved one finger at her stiffly. "Hey, I’m the one who busted my butt saving his life and nursing him back to health. And he isn’t courting me, he’s just...devoted." After giving each other a quick peck on the cheek, Kristen reached for the screen door handle. "Kris?"

"Yes?"

Angel swept her tongue nervously over her lip. "I know Eric and the boys want to critique the new Mexican restaurant in Berlin."

"And?"

"Well, I called the label manufacturer, and the labels we ordered are ready. They’re open till nine tonight."

Kristen’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed. "I see, since they’re in the same town, you’ve already told Eric I might join the party?"

Angel examined her fingernail. "You don’t mind, do you? I know you didn’t have plans."

"To make sure Eric doesn’t come back here tonight and ruin your steamy rendezvous?"

"Or call to warn me if he does mention coming back here."

"Please come out of fairy land, Angel. It doesn’t matter how many private moments with Gian you get away with; Eric has no intention of allowing you to settle peaceably into a new relationship. He paces around his office, growling about Gian to me over and over. We both know him too well to pretend that he’s not about to snap, don’t we?"

Angel flinched, remembering all too well Eric’s behavior towards men who liked her, or with whom she dared to flirt. "There’s nothing he can do, nothing he can hold over my head."

"How about his love? For the past eighteen years he’s used that with flawless accuracy."

Angel raised her chin in defiance. "I divorced him, remember?"

Shifting her briefcase to her other hand, Kristen gave a wry smile. "Angel, you divorced him at ten-fifteen on a Wednesday morning five years ago, and it was business as usual with him later that night in your bed."

"I haven’t been with him since Gian came."

"Yes, I believe what Eric muttered to himself in a very low, solemn tone about that the one time it came up: ‘He’ll regret touching her.’ I knew what and whom he meant, you do, don’t you?"

Shivery prickles crawled up Angel’s neck. Her anticipation for the ‘date’ tonight waned. "What’s your point, anyway?" she controlled the tremor from her voice.

"If you make Gian your lover, make sure he knows how to defend himself."

Angel balled her fist in frustration. "I am a single woman with personal rights! I can date any man I want," she whispered, gathering nerve, "and take a lover if I choose." After throwing one hand out emphatically, she parked it on her hip. "Besides, who knows who Eric’s been with since then."

A fleeting, indescribable expression shadowed Kristen’s pretty face. "I can tell you who. Only you. Eric’s still in love with you, and you know it."

"I don’t run scared around him anymore. There’s nothing he can do to me. There are laws stopping Eric from turning the men I admire into victims."

Kristen grumbled, then gave a small, resolute smile. "On a more pleasant note, I hope you have fun tonight, I really do. See you at the office Monday."

As Kristen went out the door, a whirlwind of balmy summer evening breeze rushed in and rolled through the room, rattling papers and tossing the curtains around. The lush fragrance from the outdoors rallied Angel out of her dark mood.

Desire swirled in her loins. She smoothed her dress over her flat belly, proud of the loss of the last twenty pounds Eric was always complaining about.

Antsy infatuation for Gian all spring and half the summer had burned it off. She was slim and willowy for the first time since she was eighteen. Angel laughed with satisfaction, shrugging off Kristen’s ominous bell tolling.

Stepping into the next breeze, she splayed her fingers on the cool metal pane of the screen door and looked down the road towards the Stable’s huge iron gates.

Gian was working late, quitting time was seven.

Rubbing her lips gently across the black mesh, Angel was amused by the tingly sensation radiating out across her cheeks.

Could she ever get Gian to kiss her with that sweet, full mouth of his? He was enjoying his daily massage, no doubt about it. He acted all controlled, but she could feel him pressing into her hands, and he always seemed disappointed when she finished. Kristen insisted Gian was courting her. But what Kristen was seeing was his attempt to ‘repay’ her for saving his life. He was a dry, sexless scholar who loved only books and for all of her thinking and thinking, she still didn’t know how to catch his manly notice. Maybe he’d never cross that line with her.

When her heart clenched, Angel paced to expend anxiety, a hip-swiveling dance step to her gait. She concentrated on her many fantasies and rehearsed conversations about tonight. A vision of her date as she’d last seen him at lunch troubled her.

What was he thinking when he looked at her the past months? His face would relax, but his plump curvy lips would tense a little and his auburn-lashed eyes would narrow just barely. Silent, he was unnerving for all of the five seconds it took until he’d look away.

"It must be a pout? A very handsome one. God, he’s incredible in every way," she mumbled lustfully under her breath. "Please tell me I deserve such a perfect man."

Angel fussed with her hair, looked at her nails, gave a good look down the neckline of her dress to admire the way her suit gave her breasts a lusciously rounded Wonderbra push-up. For a cool intellectual uninterested in sex, his eyes did often wandered to her breasts. Maybe she did have his manly notice, but he needed more prodding to finally show it?

Impatient, she went to the door again and peered out, antsy to see him. Straining to hear if a car was indeed climbing the hill, she glanced at the clock.

Five after seven.

His shiny black truck drove up the road. She shivered, intimidated and thrilled at the same time. He looked handsome behind the wheel. Of course, like everything else he tackled, when he learned to drive at her request a month ago, he was ready for the road test in less than two days. He parked next to her Jeep and the engine cut off. Angel leaned against the door to watch him.

Gian’s looming form filled the background. Ooh! His sleeveless black shirt uncharacteristically unbuttoned. The lapels waved open in the breeze of his uneven gait, showing the sumptuous curves of his big shoulders, nicely plumped up chest, and contoured belly. Her gaze drifted down to his thick thighs. The black pants he wore accentuated his wrestler build.

Angel sank her teeth into her lower lip with shameless appreciation.

Maybe it had been a bad idea to choose that color for most of his clothes because of the attention he received from the ladies, but he looked killer in the color because of his striking hair and eyes.

His work boots clapped quietly on the stones of the walk. Angel held her breath, listening to the heavier fall of his right leg and the quicker following of his left. Doc Gerhard had promised true, Gian did have a noticeable limp, though he was not disabled by it. His uneven gait was enough to draw attention, not pity. But it seemed heavier tonight?

When he’d reached the door and walked through, she nervously dragged her eyes up to his face. Pressing against the wall, she felt anticipation curl inside her as a gentle smile and a hard gaze focused down on her.

"Angel."

"Gian." Ah, beauty and ice. So what if Kristen was right? Gian was her Tro^ian ice cube, but she would melt through his frigidity down to the basic male animal he was, had to be. "Hungry?"

"Very much." He hung up his thin morning jacket on a peg outside the cloakroom door. "But need a shower first."

Angel quickly envisioned the soapsuds and water running down his big, naked body. Joining him topped her list of wonderful things to do. "You look ravishing to me. A swim in the pond would cool you down, if you’re willing to try a new custom tonight."

"No."

Angel rolled her eyes. "Very well then, I’ll just wait around even longer whilst you scurry into the nice safe shower."

Gian’s subtle pout pinched with irritation.

Angel sidled away and looked over her shoulder. "What?"

"Impossible woman."

She looked up from under her lashes. "I am not, you simply dislike logical solutions that go against what plan you have worked out in your head. We call that stubborn, here. Pig headed. Resistant to change."

Gian’s face morphed into that expression again. His handsome face relaxed, his eyes narrowed, his full lips drew slightly tight.

Angel squirmed under the strange beckoning of the mystery gaze, dearly intrigued.

"Will be quick, promise."

Angel waved goodbye and paced around the kitchen while she waited. Fifteen hot, juicy fantasies about their first kiss later, Angel sobered when her date reappeared in the kitchen. Chestnut hair was towel dried and combed, still springy despite the dampness. Unfortunately, his open black shirt had been replaced with a dark brown, long-sleeved cotton colonial style, all but one button at the top securely fastened.

Maybe the next batch of clothes she designed for him would have no buttons above the mid-point of his chest to foil his overly modest streak.

Gian looked down at himself. "What is amiss?"

"Nothing. Never with you. To be sure."

A satisfied light came into his eyes. "Aye have a surprise for youu."

Eyyee have a surprise for yoooou. Even his accent tickled her silly. "I hope it’s the pond, I’m dying to see it."

A soft, sweet and unrestrained upward lift curved his mouth slightly.

Twas a shame indeed to put such sexy lips on a man who thought kissing was deviant behavior. His mood seemed more giving than usual, best to get him in private quickly before it faded. Angel wrapped her fingers around the handle of the dinner basket. "I’m ready, as you know. Are you finally?

"Angel will drive." He extended his hand.

Angel was reminded of the quaint notion of a boy offering to carry her books home from school, and handed him the basket. "How is your leg tonight? You’re favoring it more than you were just this morning, aren’t you? Is that why I’m driving?"

"Yes." Gian reached for the Jeep keys off the wrought iron nail and gave them to her. He closed the main door behind them and waited for her to lock it. They traversed the stone walk side by side. "Dasan startled this afternoon. Swung monstrous back-end around very fast. Too quickly for slow moving fool standing too close."

"I’m sorry. I take it he knocked you over?"

Gian’s cheeks flushed a light ruddy hue. "Shoved over. Fell over two bales of hay and landed on right leg. Fortunately, only two assistant managers and seven stablehands witnessed the indignity," he said dryly.

Angel muffled her laughter and climbed into the driver’s seat. "Isn’t that quite a few people in Dasan’s stall, large as it is to accommodate his little buddy, Asha?"

Struggling to get situated in his seat, Gian slowly let his injured thigh rest against the closed door. He slumped back on the headrest. "Lyndon and Caleb were demonstrating the finer details of clipping facial hairs. Two grooms packing to leave. Horses’ evening ‘chow’ being served by one. Two hands at the door with questions."

"And I imagine the two at the door just happened to be female hands?" When he took a moment before he answered, relief soothed Angel a little. Gian was a celebrity with the ladies, but he was still humbly ignorant of it.

"Yes."

Angel stewed jealously. Since the clothing business she’d insisted she’d supervise never required her presence at the Stables, those fawning young ladies had him all to themselves everyday while she had to contrive decent excuses to go see him.

Smart move... she chastised herself.

"This is bad timing, with the toss two days away."

"Lyndon will still lose."

Giggling at his steely tone, Angel steered right down the very narrow old dirt road sandwiched between ancient stone walls bordering the rose gardens and the hedge maze. The next section of the old street was lined by the thick trunks of stately maple trees in perfect alignment like pillars along the entire eighth of a mile distance. She breathed deeply of the earthy aromas cooled by the shade.

Finally the treeline broke and opened up to a bright sunlit glade of thick green alfalfa grass littered with wildflowers and daisies. The smell of water lingered pleasantly in the moist breeze. In the distance, a duck launched high into the air with stiff winged flight.

"Tell me what you’ve had done to it."

Gian’s mouth twitched slightly with amusement. "Wait and see." Reaching between the seats, he lifted the lid of the picnic basket.

Pushing it back down, Angel smiled sweetly. "That’s a surprise, too."

"Will the pond be?"

Angel huffed. "You don’t trust me, how rude. You asked me not to come down here until you were satisfied it was complete. I honored your request, thank you."

"Angel is honorable. Forgive discourtesy."

"I’ll consider it. Maybe, in order to prove you’re sorry, you will cast aside one stubborn moment in favor of trying something new?"

Gian grumbled. "Water for bathing, not swimming."

Angel snickered under her breath to have caught the big alien scholar right where she wanted him. "Fine, I’ll choose another for you. You won’t mind if I go swimming, will you? Provided the pond isn’t stocked with various monsters you purchased wholesale?"

His face tightened with concern.

"I’m kidding." Just then, an impressively large body of water came into view. "Oh, wow," she murmured, parking the Jeep in the small gravel lot. Hopping out, she stepped onto the stone wall, agape at her awesome outdoor present.

"You made it larger by half, at least! Put in willow trees. And roses! Oh, Gian, it’s beautiful. There are flowers of every color growing everywhere; ohh, I can smell them from here. Wow, this is beautiful." Flicking her eyes to him, Angel was struck again when he halted his limping gait at her side.

How wonderful that he created the Garden of Eden for her and presented it the very eve she marked for a first kiss.

"The gifts you give always have privately provoking significance. As I once dreamed outloud, at your request, I said I wanted a private swimming pond. You really are wonderful. Thoughtful. Thank you so very much. This is the most personal gift anyone has ever given me, Gian."

A suggestion of grief swept over his striking face as much as his contentment did. Angel considered her spoken gratitude a successful direct hit to his heart. Apparently, from what she could fish out of him, Malana had never bothered to praise his devotion the way a wife should and wounded him deeply. Need for redemption over a crime he never committed was his main weakness.

Her breasts were his second.

Angel had a plan for that, too. Her heartbeat thumped hard against her ribs and the fire down below started a warm swirl again.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dearest?" Angel bit her lower lip for her slip, and wisely remained silent. The early crickets’ melodic drone and the hurried song of birds bedding down for the night made the only noise for a moment.

Gian limped one step back to the Jeep. As he retrieved the basket, Angel had to wonder if he was ignoring her endearment, or responding to it.

He returned to her side, staring down at the bundle with extra careful scrutiny. "Lyndon... says... Because of fall, Lyndon claims unfair advantage in the toss."

"And obviously, this teasing wounds you?"

"Teasing?"

Angel smiled at his surprise and scanned the beauty of the idyllic pond. Her mouth dropped. "A boat! Will you row around with me later, or would that be a contradiction of some sort of stuffy Tro^ian custom?"

He glanced down, his face etched dubiously by his thoughts. Then it relaxed, but his lips and eyes tightened ever so slightly. "Try new custom."

The mystery expression meant his stubbornness was giving way to openness to new things. Eureka! Then her enthusiasm wilted. Damn. She’d used her newly gained advantage to get it. Why was success always followed by a setback with him?

She offered a winning smile. "It’s a deal. But you owe me another concession for the special dinner I have to offer you."

Unsuspecting, Gian gave a short nod.

Yeah, she gained her advantage back! Angel hopped off the stone wall onto the tall grass, ready to explore her gift. But instinct called and she halted. Oh! Don’t be selfish.

She clasped her hands behind her back and turned to him. "Lyndon is teasing you, and it bothers you."

"Win the toss, can claim winning against odds applied by re-injury. Lose, can claim the injury swayed odds too greatly."

"Lyndon’s bad. He’s got you coming or going on that one." She squelched a grin. "You’ll have to forgive us, but you live in an impenetrable shell and the only way we can get inside with you is to throw monkey-wrenches into your well-laid plans or contradict your sense of order. It’s human nature to poke fun and tease. Be assured that amongst friends, it’s a sign of affection."

Gian grunted thoughtfully. "Teasing?"

"Lyndon is having fun with you. If my opinion means anything to you, I think it’s a fair match. Lyndon is much older, but he’s still very strong and has experience. No one’s ever beaten him. And while you’ve reached your prime, you haven’t had a lifetime of hard physical labor to prepare for this. If you win, and I’m sure you will because you’ve planned to, you can proudly claim a rightful victory."

Gian flinched, and for a split second, looked disoriented. "Grateful," he mumbled and took a slow, careful step into the grass.

"My pleasure." Angel let all of her loving declarations soak into his psyche unharassed and left him behind at a lively trot to explore.

The last rays of the day’s sunlight shone down over the treeline in the distance. She kicked off her sandals in the clean white sand at the shore of her new swimming hole. Angel dug her toes in and wiggled them around. Excitement pounded through her veins. Maybe Kristen was right. Why else would he have taken this magnificent effort to please her? Joy burst through her chest with force enough to steal her breath.

She unbuttoned her sundress and tossed it onto the mossy rock outcrop near the waterline. The warmth of the fading sun touched her body as if praising her for slimming down. Her next lively step came down in cool water. She kicked up one foot, showering droplets over the surface. The fragrant floral breeze on the next balmy wind even tasted good, the scent of Honeysuckle sweet as if she’d touched her tongue to a small white blossom.

Angel giggled, absorbed by her happiness.

Knee-deep in the water, Angel smiled, the smooth pebbles under her feet tickling. She held her breath and dove in. The cool water tugged sensuously at her suit like a lover’s fingers as she swam through the deepening water. Surfacing, she backstroked, staring at the puffy wisps of white in the darkening blue sky.

A very nice night was ahead. Too breezy for mosquitoes to hover over victims, and not sticky humid, yet just enough to carry the succulent scents in the air.

Little sunfish nipped her toes and Angel righted herself, cupping her hands to see through the water and down to the bottom. Three juveniles lingered around her feet hoping they would turn into easy food.

Angel dove under again and explored the clean sandy pond bed. How cool the long stems of the water lilies looked as they grew upwards towards the sunlight.

Breaking the surface, she shook her head to redirect the cascade of water from her hair out of her face. She dared to run her tongue over her wet lips to taste it. Fresh and fragrant.

Ducks chittered on the opposite bank. Angel twisted to see them. Backing away further, they were wary of her scrutiny. So shy.

She knew another just as shy.

Determined to kiss Gian, Angel dipped her head back into the water to straighten her hair before she began her trek back to shore. Cool water dripped between her breasts as they cleared the surface. About thigh deep, she halted and leisurely squeezed her hair out.

In this fantasy Eden setting, she would be Eve tonight. Flinging her hand-held ponytail behind her, Angel shook her head to spread it evenly around her, the dripping ends tickling the beginning curve of her hips. A pinch of pain on the back of her neck made her shiver. Reaching up, she realized that some of her hair was knotted in the hook of her suit top.

Fumbling with it, she stopped only yards from him, her figure and skimpy suit accentuated by her raised arms. She knelt in front of him in the grass, still battling with her tangled hair.

"Gian, you’re a treasure. We have the swimming spot in the brook, but there’s always a current to fight. Now I have this place. I love it, thank you." Angel leaned forward on one hand and lifted the picnic basket lid. "You didn’t have to wait while I played before you ate. Have dinner, please. That bundle is the main entrée."

Gian looked down at his wet pants leg where her hair had splayed across it. He flicked his eyes up to hers.

Offering a demure smile, she shoved it behind her shoulder. "Open this."

He plucked out the hatpin she had used to secure the cloth wrap and tossed aside the last corner covering the food. Angel watched his eyes widen with pleasure. He took a deep, delicate sniff and lingered over the scent as intently as if he’d taken a bite. Gian was naturally very sensuous, but so much that flavors and scents could occupy him indefinitely.

"I made this specialty just for you. It’s boneless fowl, whose species will remain unnamed at the moment," she said, nodding at the ducks, "breaded the way you like it."

Gian’s eyes lingered on her. "Grateful."

Angel took a bite of a crisp piece. "There’s the sweet wine you like, and a sourdough loaf. There’s a few more goodies in there, depending on how hungry you are."

For a while they didn’t talk, but their frequency of eye contact increased and lasted longer. She nibbled on food morsels he offered and fussed with the knot of hair, sure to show off her curves without seeming obvious. Successfully pulling several strands of long hair free of the mess, Angel tugged on the last few remaining.

All of a sudden, the hook popped open. Both straps and the cups supporting her breasts fell down to her waist. Angel gasped in disbelief.

Gian choked on his mouthful of food. He coughed discretely several times to clear his throat.

Responding with ingrained modesty, Angel covered herself with her arms. She sniggered, her cheeks burning hot with embarrassment. She’d planned thirty different ways to expose herself this way to him, but she feared not looking innocent. Now the deed was done, accidentally.

Angel hid half her body under her long hair. With her free hand, she reached down to examine the hook. "I broke it," she whispered, giggling nervously. "Oh my god."

Gian cleared his throat. "Need aid?"

"I need my sundress." Angel stood and not so quickly turned her back to him. She walked to her dress and bent gracefully to pick it up. Chasing her hair back over her shoulders, she calculated the correct angle to give him a partial side shot while she removed the ripped suit top. She slowly pulled on her light loose dress, situated it properly over her naked breasts, and fastened only one button at nipple-level to hide them.

Well, she flashed him, and quite assuredly, he took a very long eyeful...a very long, interested eyeful...she mused warmly. Maybe he was more attracted than she’d ever imagined.

The sun had finally sank below the trees, dusk was giving way to dark. They were alone at last under the cover of night. The boys were with Eric. Only an emergency at the stables would send anyone looking for them. The full moon was a luminous white, the stars twinkly and bright. And they were in the paradise he’d made for her.

"Sorry about that." She went back to him, aware of the constant bounce above now that she was braless. "I wasn’t yanking that hard, it seemed at least."

Gian’s eyes lingered over her.

Stimulated by his full shapely lips, heat ignited her loins. Goddess wisdom floated through her and she let it take over her body. And her voice. "But I doubt you were offended. You’re curious. You want to see."

Gian exhaled sharply.

Angel knelt near him. The goddess directed her trembling fingers to the button she popped open with surprising skill. Her heart hammered and echoed in her ears. "I want you to sample a new custom."

Gian’s eyes darted downward seemingly against his will. This close to him, she could see his pulse pounding hard against the pressure point of his neck. "No."

Because his tone lacked conviction, she crawled nearer on her hands and knees. "Yes. Because it means a great deal to me. And nothing untoward will happen if you consent."

"Impossible woman,’ he whispered crossly.

"I want you to kiss me," she demanded softly, gently, coming closer with a few shuffling moves. "Such beautiful lips like yours are wasted if you don’t use them, it’s not fair. And you need to experience one in order to be able to accurately report on our custom. Kiss me." She leaned forward until her nose was almost touching his.

He grumbled, but didn’t pull away.

Rubbing her mouth over his lower lip with featherlight pressure, Angel increased her pressure for a moment, then pulled back. Mmmm, so soft.

When she chased after another, he twisted his head ever so slightly to foil her.

"I want you to kiss me," she encouraged.

"Fulfilled wish," he croaked, his eyes dropping low again.

"No, you didn’t. I kissed you. I could do that to you for hours, but you have to kiss back for my request to be fulfilled. Knowing you well, I worded my statement exactly."

The grassy hill behind him prevented him from shifting away. His eyes lingered on her mouth, then dropped subtly before flicking up guiltily to hers.

Angel slid her shirt back enough to fully expose herself. "You can feel them without us having to do anything more, no matter how primitive you think my desires. I know you like them because you look at them a lot, like you just did. Touch them while you learn how to give me a kiss."

She didn’t give him time to object but swept her mouth lightly over his again. Pressing bared chest to closed shirt, Angel coaxed compliance from his virgin lips, breaking off many times, careful not to be able to call any one a real kiss.

And delicious they were. He was relaxed and responsive, but she could easily sense his lack of passion. Suspicion lurked. Why was he being so easy?

Moving very, very slowly, Angel unbuttoned his shirt. Parting the lapels, she took a quick feel of his broad chest before she dragged her taut nipples over it.

He murmured, a sound charged with intimate undertones. But he jerked underneath her, as if trying to unseat her from his lap.

Angel’s hand slid up his neck and her fingers splayed softly at his throat. "To release yourself from this obligation, you must surrender for a few minutes." Angel reached for his hand and lifted it until his fingers brushed the ticklish underside of her naked skin. "You want to touch me," she whispered, scandalized by her own boldness.

Gian fought her attempt.

Aware of his nominal struggle, Angel gripped his wrist and guided it until his palm cupped her breast. She pressed against the back of his hand until his fingers closed.

A low grunt echoed in his throat.

Oh, yes, Gian’s hand was finally, ohhh. She’d never known any but Eric’s touch. The difference was erotic. Knowing it was an alien’s hand made the experience even more delicious. Heat liquefied her insides and shot down to her loins. Angel quivered with needy desire, her mouth stalled on his. Quickly, she encouraged his other hand to join the fun.

He kneaded gently, rubbing with tender, curious care. Angel greedily breathed in his warm outbreaths, aware that hers were markedly much faster and more intense. "Kiss me," she said anyway and used hard, wanton pressure. When he returned the move, she chased after his tongue without thinking.

Gian jerked violently underneath her, pulling his head back to break the contact.

Wisely, she tamed herself until she was back to the gentle smooches she’d started with. She sagged her weight against him anyway until he relaxed. Slowly, she guided his hands back to her.

Suddenly, Angel realized why he was being so easy, tolerating oral assault. He liked her breasts that much. Mmm. She approved of the trade off, madly in love with his tasty, pliable mouth.

Success was sweet, no matter the backstep she would invariably be forced to take once he rejected their closeness and resumed his stoic coldness.

Tension knotted Gian’s stomach. The July twenty-first summer afternoon was spectacular. Temperature was comfortable at 82.7 degrees, full yellow sunlight shone down, wisps of high cirrus clouds dotted the blue sky. As usual, birdsong made cheery background music, and the air was pleasantly scented with flower blossoms.

But the earthen paradise setting was marred by the chaos of noise all around him assaulting his concentration.

Like a disorderly tribunal mass, fifty-nine humans chattered loudly about the upcoming event. Though they were twenty feet away, they might as well have been in his face for the affect they had on his composure.

"Starting to sweat, eh boy?" Lyndon pulled the edge of his thick leather, working gloves, wiggling his fingers for a perfect fit. He stood behind his bale of hay, a big grin stretching over his weathered face. "Rightly so. My record is ten and zero. After today, eleven and zero." He laughed uproariously.

Gian feigned a mocking smile.

"Now, stand back and watch the pro that’s gonna keep you humble." Lyndon bent down and slid his fingers underneath the bale ropes near the center, using both hands to pull them together to make a big handle.

Gian nervously studied Lyndon’s hold in comparison to his own every one of the five hundred and thirty-two times he’d practiced in the past five weeks and three days. How was Lyndon going to send it into the air that way?

"Don’t look away or you’ll miss this." Lyndon drew in several deep breaths and straightened his six foot four bulky frame, spreading his shoulders out fully. Eyes squinted and unblinking, Lyndon planted his booted feet on the starting mark and shook the tightness out of his body.

Hiking the bale up to his hip, Lyndon drew in another deep breath before he spun completely around in his spot, using the momentum to launch it into free flight.

The bale flew through the air forever and landed on the grass with a solid thunk. A racket of cheers, whistles and claps drowned out all other sounds. Gian dragged his vision past the fifteen foot white line. At least 50.4 decaoctons additional distance.

"17-9!" boomed Charles in magnified loudness through that annoying ‘megaphone’ device he’d been practicing with all day.

The figure sent a shiver down Gian’s spine. Good throw. Sweat trickled down his back. He could have thrown the bale? This was a tremendous blow to his confidence. He mouthed a small prayer to Ushuatan, begging for mercy.

Bending to grasp his bundle of hay, Gian heard Lyndon chuckle under his breath nearby. Gian ignored him, but the heckling sent another flush of nervousness through his already shaky legs and arms. He looped his left hand around the two twine strings and lifted it to his right hip. The added strain cramped his leg muscles. He struggled to silence a groan. Pulse thundering in his ears, he inhaled deeply of the sweet grass scented air, but today the smell offered no comfort.

Eyes glued to the block Lyndon had thrown, Gian stationed his other hand at the end of the bale. Swiveling back slightly, he mustered every fiber of strength he had, then swung forward, releasing his fingers on the strings and launching it into the air. The moment his weight came down on his leg, shooting pain stabbed through it. He stumbled, fighting to stay upright and managed not to fall. The ache so great he wanted to cry out. Breaking into a cold clammy sweat, he swallowed hard against the nausea roiling in his stomach.

A roar of excitement...and laughter...sent his mood into a faster plummet. Weaving slightly where he stood, Gian blinked several times to clear his sight.

Couldn’t he do anything right?

"18-7, the winning toss!" the announcement came in ear-shattering volume.

Two blocks of dried grass lay very near each other in the distance. Whose was whose escaped Gian.

Angel rushed to his side. "No wonder you got so big so fast, practicing to toss the bale!" she giggled again. "I guess no one every showed you how to do it, did they?" But slowly her humor faded and she slid her fingers over his forearm, squeezing gently. "Are you okay, darlin? You’re very pale. You’re hurt, aren’t you?"

Gian struggled to eye the distances. At least they were very close. Losing wasn’t a total failure if he’d trailed the winner by less than a foot. "Am fine." He wiped the sweat off his brow before it dripped into his eyes, surprised by how heavy his arm was suddenly.

"Really? You don’t seem fine." Her gentle touch tightened.

He nodded in rhythm with the spasms throbbing in his leg. "Am."

"Are you happy that you’ve won, as you predicted?"

He stared at the bales again in disbelief. He won?

"Yes," he whispered dreamily.

Angel smiled without humor. "Lyndon, help," she whispered urgently.

Lyndon stopped at Gian’s side and grasped his shoulder. "Just back a few steps to the truck."

Gian resisted the firm pressure because most of his balance on his good leg. When Lyndon insisted, pushing more forcibly, Gian put weight on his painful leg, but crumpled. Many strong hands grasped his arms and waist and guided him onto the open back of a truck, saving him from an undignified fall in front of the curious crowd. Trying to sit comfortably, Gian muffled a groan the best he could, but the discomfort rivaled the early days when his leg was newly broken. Lightheaded, he breathed deep, trying to clear the tenacious buzzing sound in his head.

Lyndon’s towering form blocked the sunlight from Gian’s eyes and he gave a queer smile. "What the hell was that? You tossed it!"

Gian frowned in confusion. "Hay toss."

"You’re not supposed to take the word literally! A ‘hay throw’ doesn’t have the same impact."

Tentative laughter meandered around the celebrating crowd and echoed in Gian’s head.

"For over a century of competition hay tosses, no one’s ever just tossed it! What kind of a move was that?"

Angel whispered in Gian’s ear and told him to repeat what she said exactly. Without censure, he obeyed her. "The winning one, of course." He flushed self-consciously for such an egotistical remark, his cheeks warming.

Lyndon smirked and straightened up. "Well, now, that’s true." He extended his hand. "You won fair and square."

Gian clasped Lyndon’s hard callused hand and was jostled by the enthusiastic shake. "Grateful." Distracted when muscle in his leg cramped, he groaned under his breath, but a sense of victory was beginning to sink in. He’d won!

Lyndon’s blue eyes twinkled. "Some sort of hero, eh? Won despite the gimpy leg?"

The comment struck deep, but Gian appreciated Lyndon’s ‘teasing’. Smoothing his palm over his pants where a large red and purple bruise ached underneath, Gian nodded at him. "Yes, very true."

Angel dropped her cheek onto his arm to hide her face and muffle the sound of her laughter, but her shoulders shook so strongly his hair jiggled from the force. Gian understood how intimate the contact was, even to her people, but he indulged her in plain view of all the men ogling her anyway.

With that, carousing began. People talked excitedly to each other, lingering over the details of the toss; champagne sloshed over the rims of plastic goblets held by constantly moving hands. Lyndon removed his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead with his arm before cocking his glass to his mouth. But he stopped just short of drinking. "You need one."

When a female employee handed him a dripping glass of celebration bubbly, Angel quickly intercepted. But she stopped it so fast some of the champagne splashed on his leg. "Sorry," she murmured guiltily. "H2O is best until you’re feeling better."

"Not a problem." Gian wrapped his hand around the frosty wet water bottle she offered and licked his parched lips in expectation of the cool drink.

"You’re very giving this early eve." She lowered her eyes, but her desire and delight was plain in both her soft voice and hopeful expression.

Savoring a mouthful of ice water, Gian had a flashback to the night at the pond two days ago. May Ushuatan have mercy on his immoral soul, but her soft pliable breasts were extraordinary to touch. A surge of excitement traveled to his belly just to remember. And she loved it. That was the most provoking aspect of all. She moaned and sighed so sweetly.

Then he’d messed up his chance to fondle her more. So engrossed in enjoying his exploration, she’d collapsed her weight onto him. The urge to couple had roared to the front of his mind. Shocked by the force of his response, he’d nearly dumped her off his lap to get away from her curvy body. Now, he felt ridiculous for overreacting and blowing his chance to bring her closer.

He stared deep into her brilliant blue eyes. "Time is best spent together."

Angel’s gaze went misty and wistful. She cocked her head and raised her glass. "To your stunning success, Mr. Daushur."

Pain he could only describe as exquisite and addicting welled in his chest and throat, overpowering the hurt of his thigh. She made him feel wonderful, always. "Thank youu."

For over an hour and a half, Gian relaxed, quietly talking to Angel, waiting for the pain in his leg to lessen. The mass of workers, off duty and on, and guests partied around him without needing his participation. Memories of the other night filled his mind, as usual for the past two days.

To his astonishment, kissing was not unpleasant. And he had a good use for it. She loved it. That’s what was important. So, he entertained her with kisses so he could touch her. Now that he knew how amazing she felt, he wished he could do it again.

From the corner of his eye, Gian realized Angel was scrutinizing him.

Though she very nearly brushed his arm every time she moved now, Angel slid closer to him, a rush of her musky perfume wafting under his nose. "I’ve been waiting for the privacy to ask how our time together would be best spent."

Gian shifted his leg to see how it felt and stifled a grimace at the lingering discomfort. Surveying the crowd, he sensed their interest had been switched from the toss competitors to flirting and group conversations. His eyes swept skyward. A full moon was rising over the treetop horizon in the East and the sun beginning to dip below it on the West.

"Angel’s choice."

A suggestion of a smile tipped the corners of her lips, but quickly she smoothed it. "Not likely," she mumbled under her breath. "I would suggest a walk, but I think not, now that I know how you’ve really been feeling since you fell in Dasan’s stall the other day. You should have told me how much it hurt. We have treatments that could have helped. This could be a very nice evening for a drive."

Gian reluctantly offered a concession. "Perhaps, even a swim."

Her jaw slacked, big blue eyes round. "Oh, no way, not if you’re going to swim with your clothes on. Nah."

"No intentions of swimming naked," he said flatly, his hand sweeping out in finality.

Laughter rumbled in her throat. "Swim-trunks. That’s all."

Gian scowled, but Lyndon’s words came back to haunt him.

Sometimes I think she forgave a lot of Eric’s bad behavior because she liked how the good Lord built him.

Eric would swim naked with her without any thought. This was a good time to use one of his new assets. After working so hard on strength training these weeks, he had a fairly strong build to show her. But, ugh. He’d look ridiculous in such a sorry state of dress. "Fine," he growled.

Angel’s teeth clamped onto her lower lip. "You’ll find what you need in your lower armoire drawer."

At least her option, swimtrunks, was actually official gear. Gian relaxed a little. "Angel drives tonight. But must retrieve items from the office first."

"I, say the pronoun I. You use them so sparingly. Use them all the time. I. I must go retrieve items from my office."

Gian cocked his head in irritation. "Ayye must go retrieve items from mayye office first." Gian was humbled suddenly when she fought more laughter.

"I’ll wait," she said with excitement she couldn’t mask. Her dangling legs swung back and forth. She bounced with antsy energy. A softened grin stretched over her lovely face.

Gian slid carefully off the truck. Once his boots landed squarely, he shifted weight onto his right leg little by little to make sure it didn’t give out and send him tumbling. Seemed solid. "Must also shut down computer programs."

Angel shrugged, unaffected by the announcement of his delay. "I’ll be here waiting for you."

She made a fetching vision. If only he had a camera handy. Wearing a cool, thin sundress dotted with tiny red roses and her long chocolate brown hair waving free in the breeze around her beautiful face, she was certainly a superior choice for a mate. Despite her carnal ‘faults’.

When his vision dipped down to the cling of fabric over her large chest, Gian averted his eyes and headed across the trampled grass to the admin. barn as gracefully as he could, but it hurt.

About to round the hall archway leading to manager’s offices, Gian heard a noise behind him in the tack room. He struggled back a few steps and peered around the doorjamb. Seeing no one, he stalled and waited, sure of his own ears.

A vision of Angel’s naked breasts flooded his mind pleasantly. They were so big. And incredibly soft. Astoundingly soft. Kneading them eased his tension. Made him remember how addictively pleasurable the act of procreation was. She’d certainly encouraged him, her hands holding his there. What a wanton creature she was. A Tro^ian woman would be shamed to want him to focus so completely on one part of her body. But not his messenger angel. She loved his touch and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed.

Now that no one was here to see him be weak, Gian planted one hand on the doorway to take the weight off his leg.

Angel’s moans were singularly stirring. How much deeper and more sensual could he inspire them to be? He knew the history of the hay toss seventeen years ago. Eric won, and Angel gave herself to him for the first time, becoming pregnant with the twins. Was she hoping to offer the same luscious favor to the winner tonight as well? That sparkle was in her eye again minutes ago.

The lack of sound annoyed Gian. He heard someone, he was sure. He dropped his arm and walked into the room to investigate. A figure popped out in front of him.

Gian drew back in shock.

Eric gave a cold, cruel smile. "I wanted to congratulate you on your victory, even if your distance was nothing to crow about compared to mine."

Gian scoffed. "Empty praise is not welcome. Tribute from fool and bully of females is worth nothing."

Face darkening with rage, Eric said, "I’m so wounded. Would a token of my esteem do then?"

Eric’s fist caught Gian in the mouth. His head snapped back, a shock of painful stars exploded in his brain. He stumbled backward, crashed over an empty saddle rack, and hit the floor flat on his back.

Eric growled at the vicious throb in his hand. Kicking at the redheaded bastard’s boot, he checked for signs of life. "Out cold. You’re pathetic. Never felled anyone that easy, not even using my hardest hits." A surge of hatred boiled the blood in his veins. "If I could get away with killing you, I would. You can’t have her. Tonight, I take her back while you’re lying in bed helpless to stop me. That’ll teach you to fuck with me, pal."

A fat blackened lump grew on the manager’s split lower lip and chin. Blood dripped in little red drops plop, plop, plop onto the polished wood floor. Eric gave a self-satisfied laugh.

"Too bad I didn’t bring a goddamn camera. I’d use this picture as the background for my dartboard."

Glancing down the hall, Eric knew he couldn’t linger. No one had seen him arrive and no one would see him leave. Eighteen years of wandering this spread had long ago revealed its quick getaways, back when he used to meet Angel down here in secret after her curfew. Because they didn’t want to risk her parents catching them in bed at his apartment, they’d hide in the hayloft half the night before she sneaked back into her parent’s house. He went home, sticky and sated, looking forward to the next night.

That is, until she realized she was pregnant.

She’d cried and searched his face for a clue how angry he was. He raised a fist in victory, much to her surprise. He was proud of himself. He’d wanted to pat his dick for a job well done. Most guys his age were terrified of getting their girlfriends pregnant. Eric hadn’t ever received better news. Angel Wright was finally his. With her parent’s eager blessing, he married her immediately and moved his wife into his apartment. The sex was even better, if that was possible. Angel was a naughty girl, serious about her sexual pleasure. She’d try anything once. Even twice just to be sure she did or didn’t like it. Usually, she did.

And that ugly redheaded fuck was trying to steal that from him?

Eric slipped out a side door and peeked around the equipment alcove to see if anyone was passing by this alley. Waiting for a pair of stablehands walking hand in hand to pass, he strode past cars parked on this narrow access road, to his rental car. Once inside, he paused, patient, wary, waiting until he felt the moment to drive off come.

Eric battled another murderous streak. Angel had laid hands on her manager today so many times in front of everyone during the hour he was watching from his hiding place. That piece of shit lying on the tackroom floor wasn’t bleeding enough to appease his need for vengeance, but Eric fought his insane urge to go back and inflict more pain on the Stables new Prince Lovable.

"I’d love to beat your face to irreparable damage this time," he swore under his breath. Eric drove off when that feeling came, hidden behind dark tinted windows.

~ * ~

Angel waited for nearly twenty minutes before her patience ran short. If Gian had intended to delay this long, he would have said so, not just left her here to wonder. That wasn’t his style. Something important must have intruded on his quick mission. Glugging the rest of the champagne in her glass, she lobbed it into the trashcan and hopped off of the back of the truck.

She crossed the lush green grass of the paddock and glided through the admin. barn door. Where are you, dearest exiled treasure? Was he playing a flirtatious game of hide and seek?

Stepping into the hall, she breathed deeply of the office scent, hoping to smell her way to him like a bloodhound. Angel peered around his door and frowned. His laptop computer was off, but his ledgers open. On one corner of his neat desk, a medium-sized box wrapped in flowered giftwrap caught her attention. Ooh. Gian definitely was courting her. Devotion and loyalty were staples he offered, but this gift, his first, was a new type of gesture for him.

That meant, eventually, they would make love. Tro^ian, Human, whatever. Such a smart man didn’t expect to ask for commitment and think he could ignore her basic needs.

Kind of spooked by the silence, Angel sobered. If the gift was on his desk, that meant he hadn’t been here yet. It wasn’t like Gian to disappear. He was too responsible for that.

Fear tried to convince her to leave, but she refused to run away. She tiptoed to Lyndon’s office and looked in. As she expected, his comfortable space was closed down.

Danny’s office was as usual, messy. At least four pipes in big glass ashtrays littered his counter space, files were piled haphazardly on both sides of his desk, his computer was off, wadded up paper was littered around the trashcan instead of in it.

Another few steps brought her to the newly hired assistant’s office. Caleb was neat, his space neatly stocked with books and manuals like the boss he so clearly admired.

What the heck was going on?

Angel scanned the common area. The shadowed archway to the tackroom was the only choice left.

Cautiously, Angel stepped closer and peered across the darkened expanse of the room.

The sound of laughter echoed eerily the hall from outside. Spooked, Angel fought the urge to flee. From the corner of her eye, furniture out of place caught her attention. Snaking her hand across the wood-planked wall, she flipped on the light.

"Agghh, no!" Scurrying around the fallen saddlehorse, Angel rushed to Gian’s side. She stared in disbelief at the bloody swelling on his face. His chest moved up and down, at least he was alive.

Already she knew who hit him.

Angel closed her eyes, tears dribbling from under her tight lids. "Damn you, Eric, God damn you!" she spat silently to herself.

~ * ~

Lyndon, Danny and Caleb worked as quickly and discreetly as they could transferring the winner of the toss up to the house. Battered and unconscious, he was a patient in his bed again.

Doc Gerhard came at her request and decided to put two stitches in the split inside Gian’s mouth and a butterfly bandage on the outside laceration.

Doc said he’d wake later.

Later? That was hardly a comforting outlook. What would Gian’s mood be when he did come to? He’d been so elated about winning the toss, but Eric stole the victory from him.

He had no right.

Three hours later, Angel steered North down route 2 to Eric’s house, so furious she was nearly crying. She steered into Eric’s driveway and shut off the Jeep. On her way up the stone walk, she crammed the keys into her bag. Setting her fist to his door, Angel hammered rudely.

By the time she was beginning to feel pain, the blockade opened. Dressed in an open silky maroon robe and matching night pants, a barefoot Eric gave her a devastating smile.

"Angel. Always a pleasure." He opened the door wide and stepped aside. "Please, come in, babe."

Scowling up at the handsome, unbruised face, she strode into his domain. "You’re despicable."

"I don’t know what you mean, Angel." Clicking the lock, Eric walked to her, his innocent expression so faked.

Her eyes narrowed to slits.

Eric sighed. "All right, it was me." He passed over the threshold of the den. "But you’re here with me and not with him. I fail to find flaw with my accomplishment. This worked out exactly as I planned."

Angel gave him a look of wilting disdain.

Fire flashed behind his dark brown eyes. He leaned towards her and growled, "And you know why I did it."

She smiled sweetly. "You’re right, I am here. I was concerned that you might have hurt yourself." She smoothed her fingers over the black and blue knuckles of his right hand, and squeezed hard.

Eric winced and yanked away. He walked off and stopped at his big leather chair near the hearth.

"You broke your hand on his face! You’re horrible."

"I didn’t break my hand. It’s just bruised knuckles, and he’s a pussy. I’ve never seen anyone go down that easy. He’s not a small guy, either." He grabbed his shotglass off the tray and downed the contents in one gulp. He tipped the bottle, dashing more into his glass until it rimmed the top.

"Whiskey? Wouldn’t aspirins work?"

At the bar, Eric poured pink soda in a delicate tall glass. Ice cube slices bobbed up and down. "Here, in case you’re thirsty. It’s raspberry ginger ale, nothing in it."

She looked down her nose at it. "He’s not a wuss. He’s just never been punched before. Never entered his mind you would do that. But now that you’ve taught him violence, be aware."

Eric’s smile sent shivers down her spine. It was evil, full of rage, and knowing. Anxiety kicked up Angel’s heartbeat. She’d not expected to find him drinking.

"Why so blue, babe? Did I ruin your plans for the evening?"

From years of experience, she knew Eric was only getting started. But she understood why. A mixture of pain and anger clashed inside her. Eric was desperate not to let Gian replace him, and really, she was, too. But she adored Gian in a way she’d never felt for Eric. Something special based on more than abiding lust and passion. Something compatible.

Tortured by the emotional dilemma, Angel swiped his shot before he had a chance to drink it. Though she’d never had whiskey, she knew it would be awful and downed it without stopping the way everyone did when they drank it. The poison seared her throat. She coughed violently, wheezing. "God, how can you drink that stuff?"

Eric shrugged. "After the first few, it’s not so bad."

First few? Wary of his hawkish gaze, she skittered off, still trying to breathe normally. Eric was angry, in pain, and well on his way to being drunk.

Swirling the refill of amber acid in his shot glass, he ambled after her. "So, did I ruin your plans for the evening, babe?"

Angel bumped into the easy chair as she rounded it. When he snickered, she shot him a scowl.

"Feeling that triple are you? I’m surprised you got it all down. This could be interesting."

Her head swam and perspiration beaded on her upper lip. "Why do you have it so hot in here?"

"The temperature is fine, Angel. It’s you. It’s called a liquor rush. And I’ll bet you’re having a real big one."

She hung onto the edge of the bar for balance, but it didn’t come. Her legs were rubbery and getting worse, she felt disoriented, and that was getting worse. She sucked in a breath when his cheek rubbed in her hair.

He grumbled in her ear, "Don’t want to answer my question, Angel? Did I ruin your plans for this evening?"

"It wasn’t right to hit it…him." Angel hiccuped.

Eric gripped onto her waist and pulled her against him, her rear pressed intimately against his jewels. "Seeing you flirt with the hired hand drove me to act. That’s because seventeen years ago, I know you fucked the winner of the toss all night because it was me."

She pushed away, but he only gave her enough room to turn around in his arms before he hauled her back. "It would’ve been my right," she snapped, regretting the shadow of pain that swept over his expression.

"You love me, Angel. He’s just flavor of the month. Don’t get mixed up on me."

Couldn’t he have had more clothes on? Now that his dark hair was getting long, he had a tousled, sexy look, and being dressed as if he’d just finished making love didn’t help her stay mad.

And he knew.

Eric’s arm tightened around her. "I plan to outlast this indiscretion of yours. All the years since you divorced me, you’ve still been mine. By choice. Tell me you love me, Angel, I need to hear it."

"I do love you, Eric," she murmured automatically. "Oh, don’t do this to me." Angel tried to get away, but suddenly realized the only thing holding her on her feet was him.

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding at her. "You’re drunk, pretty lady." He clamped onto the back of her neck and steered her into his kiss.

Angel squealed and let her head fall back to disconnect him. "No, Eric. I can’t."

"You can, and you will, and what’s more, you want me."

Suddenly, he lifted her off her feet and plopped her onto a cold tabletop. She wiggled against his powerplay and tried to slide off, but only crammed herself against his nearly naked loins when he didn’t move. The fabric of his nightpants was so thin she could feel the semi-hard contours of him there. "I didn’t come here for that."

He bumped her back into place and sent his hand under her black denim skirt. "But you’d hoped to score tonight, just with him. But even though he’s feeling under the weather, I’m not."

Angel cracked him across the cheek, but in her inebriated state, it was little more than a scrape of her fingers on his chin. He shoved harder between her legs, his hand roaming intimate places. She whined and pushed her fists against his chest. "Let me go!"

"You don’t want to go, Angel." He whisked her panties off. "I’ll be good to you, like I always am."

"Eric, no."

He whispered gruffly, "You’re mad about how I took him down, but you still can’t resist a winner, you never could. That’s how I’ve captivated you for all these years, by being one. I knew you’d come to me tonight to get what you needed." Molding his hand over her breast, he caressed with practiced rhythm. "Oh, you’re so nice, Angel."

Angel dug her nails into his wrist, but he obviously didn’t feel it. "Are you going to rape me?" Fighting the sluggishness in her body, she tried to sit up.

With a quick shift, Eric dumped her flat on her back, knocking a vase off the table. "I’m protecting what’s mine," he growled unpleasantly. "Since our divorce, we’ve averaged two good lays a week. Some married men don’t get it that often. Though, I certainly did, didn’t I, you wicked little creature. So many nights you never even let me sleep for more than a couple hours. But, you’ve gone astray the past months, hoping to get into his pants."

Angel whimpered when he released the tie on his waistband and let his thickened flesh free. "Eric, please!"

"Oh, yes, Angel, yes." He speared her soft folds, seating for a perfect entry.

She gasped when he shoved deep. This wasn’t really happening. It couldn’t be. But his harsh, rhythmic grunts as he thrust hard and fast were not to be denied.

"Babe, next time it’s your turn," he whispered urgently just before he belted out a throaty groan.

As he emptied his lust inside her, Angel heard Kristen’s words race through her mind.

Angel grasped for a handhold on the table, but she was too uncoordinated to do more than flail. "You planned this. That’s why you’re dressed to play," she accused in a slurred whisper.

"Yes, darling. I did. I knew you’d come to me, you always do. And I followed through with my dastardly plan to have you instead of letting you have him." His hand slid under her shirt again.

"Stop," she whined, squirming.

He caught her wrists and pinned them over her head. "The deed is done already, Angel. Relax. You’re mine for the rest of your ‘month’. Hopefully, beyond that for the length of a pregnancy. I did always want another child from you after seeing how gorgeous our first pair of babies were."

She felt him harden inside her. "Damn you."

But he wasn’t listening. He took perverse pleasure in working himself to another noisy climax and laughed triumphantly after he filled her again.

Hovering in a surreal space, Angel wasn’t sure how many times Eric ‘did the deed’ before he let her be. When she woke at four a.m., she found herself nestled in his arms on the couch. His deep heavy breathing was almost a snore. Struggling from beneath him, she stood, weaving dangerously to one side before she caught her balance. I’m still drunk…

Angel felt cold air on her chest and looked down. The dim light from the desk lamp glowed on her naked breasts. Stifling a cry, she walked a crooked line to the door, fastening her bra and buttoning her shirt.

Grabbing her bag, she rounded the corner into the foyer, skimming the doorjamb despite her effort not to. She shouldn’t drive like this.

But she couldn’t stay here.

Out in the cool night air, Angel didn’t feel any more sober, but fear was beginning to work its way into her mind. She was more afraid of Gian finding out she’d been here tonight entertaining Eric while he was lying unconscious in bed than she was the cops pulling her over. Though she was determined to get home, she didn’t make it to her car without bursting into tears.

God, what had she done? She’d been saving herself for Gian. Or at least, hoping.

And Will--she’d told him at 8 last night she’d be back in an hour or so. He was probably worried about her.

Taking the back roads home, Angel stumbled in her front door a half-hour later. The familiar smells brought another rush of tears. As she sneaked to her room, she noticed the anteroom to Gian’s bedroom open. Peeking in, she found Lyndon asleep in an easy chair, his stocking feet lodged on a stool. Another set of big feet, these bare, shared the same space. Following the legs upward, she saw Will in another chair, sleeping, his arms crossed, head lolled to one side.

Angel choked silently on a guilty breath.

Sure Gian was well mother-henned over by his true friends, Angel felt unworthy of the man she loved and fled the damning scene.

Gian glowered out the window at the setting sun, his heart pounding.

For the past three Angel-less days while he waited for his head to clear from Eric’s violent assault, his sworn vow had become a mantra. It ran incessantly through his mind while he seethed and stewed.

Eric taught him that this was a brutal war, human style, over Angel. The smartest and strongest would earn the privilege to claim her. As a result of years of Eric’s abuse, she was incapable of making a rational decision in her own behalf. And now? Hiding from him proved Eric had done something else to her.

Eric thought to take his messenger angel from him? Gian scoffed. Not in this reality. He’d nearly died to earn her and he wouldn’t give her up.

Instead, tonight, he would plunder the connection between Eric and Angel forever. Then he’d spend the rest of his days, giving her the love and devotion she deserved.

"Gian, are you going to eat anymore of this food?"

Though melodious and pleasant, Kristen’s voice irritated Gian because it wasn’t Angel’s. "No. Thank youu. For the past three days youu have aided mme without flaw. Aye am able to tend mayeself now."

"I understand. Have plans for this evening?" At the nightstand, she covered a platter on the tray with its matching glass top.

Gian slid the icepack off his mouth and dropped his forearm on his thigh. "Why ask if youu already suspect?" With the tip of his tongue, he gingerly licked the tiny knots binding the laceration inside his mouth. He felt ridiculous sporting the huge black and blue wound on his face.

Kristen straightened her spine, clearly wary of him. "Fine, I’ll be plain. As long as I’ve known her, Angel’s never run away for an hour, never mind a couple days. I insist that you be gentle with her."

Gian shot to his feet and jabbed one finger on his chest. "Gentleman! The tyrant lives three miles north-northwest, 262 Grand Street!"

Kristen’s face paled. "All right, all right, I’m sorry." With a shaking hand, she ordered the soiled silverware that was scattered over the large wooden serving tray. "I’m sure I prefer you calm and remote, as opposed to furious. Very sure."

Gian yanked off his robe and flung it onto the edge of his bed. He bent to reach his shirt on the trunk. When his face throbbed in complaint of the position, Gian snarled. Defiantly, he pulled it on and left it unbuttoned.

"Did William and Samuel leave at six p.m. for Eric’s as planned?" Speaking the name shot a hot flush of adrenaline through his body. Gian’s hand fisted with aggression at his side.

"Yes," she barely whispered. "Will called a while ago and asked if I could drop off his backpack on my way. I told him I would."

"Youur devotion to Eric is clear to mme."

Kristen distanced herself a few steps before casting him a look filled with guilt.

Gian postured like a boss to a worker. "Hhe will need youur support."

"Are you going to hurt him? Seek revenge?"

Gian stretched a cold smile as far as his abused mouth could without splitting open. "Oh yes."

Kristen took a step towards him. "You’re bigger than he is! And at the moment, madder than he’s ever been. Confronting violence with violence is wrong."

"Aye am also smarter than hhe is. Next time youu see Angel, shhe will be wed to mme."

Kristen’s mouth worked, but no words came out.

A shot of satisfaction warmed Gian’s blood. "Go."

She skittered backwards as if she’d been pushed. "She’s not a pawn in this idiotic war!"

Gian growled. "Aye will not take offense to youur second insult to maye character!"

Her face flushed. Then it pinched with suspicion. "You suddenly speak excellent English." Her heels clicked on the wood floor as she moved around the highback chair again. "Why is that?"

"Angel will thrive under maye care." He raised one brow and glanced at the door.

"I know. Go. Yes, my liege."

Her defiance amused him, but his smile faded. Kristen hurried out of his room and shut the door behind her.

Gian headed to the anteroom, walking the familiar straight path to the threshold of Angel’s bedroom where he halted.

Shifting his sore jaw back and forth, Gian studied the uncharacteristic two-day messiness for signs when Angel had been here last. He patted the sensitive lump on the side of his mouth and chin and moved his lips as much as he could to limber them up. He’d been devoted using the ‘icepack’ as Doc. Gerhard directed. Today the doctor told him the wound looked ‘very well’ for the effort. But Gian knew he looked ridiculous anyway.

Angel’s tan leather handbag lay on her bed as if she’d tossed it there. The front flap was open, her wallet halfway out of it. A few feet from the bed, sandals were spaced as if she’d kicked them off as she walked. On the floor by his heel, a rumpled sundress.

There’d been a lingering smell of her shampoo and conditioner in the moist bathroom air. Less than two hours old.

The doors of her antique armoire were left open, the top and middle drawers pulled partway out. One leg of sheer hosiery hung over the edge, almost ready to slip to the floor. He’d never seen this room disordered. In her haste to avoid him, she’d neglected her regular neatness.

Gian surged with rage. It burned and boiled him inside. Wholly, it was unpleasant, but it stimulated him in a way that made him feel powerful, too. The beautiful messenger angel Ushuatan had given him so many months ago needed his protection, and she would have it.

Because of something Eric had done, or forced her into, she was in great pain. He had a good idea what it was, too.

He hadn’t seen her once since the toss. Sent her best friend to care for him in her stead. Even William and Samuel had come to him to ask if he knew why they’d not seen her much, set aside when she briefly organized with their daily schedule of needs. Whatever had happened, it was more than she could bear.

Fury surged through him again. Gian abandoned his unnecessary search for clues.

He knew where she was. Driven by emotion and passion, Angel was predictable. Though she’d distanced her body from him right now, he instinctively knew she’d chosen a place that was ‘near’ him. He’d spent the last two days staring out his window in its direction. Now that he finally had his wits about him again, she wasn’t going to spend another night alone and bewildered, eaten up by her guilt.

After all, if he’d been shrewdly human instead of stubbornly Tro^ian at a key moment, she wouldn’t be in this situation, he was sure.

After locking the back door, he shoved the keys in his pocket. Slinging the summer blanket over his shoulder, he headed across the backyard. The three-day rest had relieved his leg pain and his gait was strong and almost even tonight.

Too bad all the discomfort had been moved upward to his mouth. He hated Eric’s fist print on his face, hated him for putting it there.

Peeping treefrogs and chirping katydids sang loudly, content with the moderately humid summer eve. They grew louder as he neared the woodland. Crickets silenced all around him and started back up once he’d strode by.

Gian stepped off the grassy lawn and onto packed dirt road, his footfalls softly crunching on the sand and pebbles. Between the high set stonewalls bordering each side of the road, the air was much cooler and he shivered. It warmed somewhat as he walked through the long tunnel of maple trees, but his new odious emotions kept him too hot to be bothered by the earthen chills.

Eric’s attack opened Gian’s eyes. Angel’s lack of confidence and timidity in serious moments made strange sense finally.

Only a fool would believe that Eric had never struck Angel to keep her in line. Gian struggled through another hot surge of rage. To batter such a small, gentle creature was unholy. But tonight, he would use the earthen tradition of ‘I thee wed’ to wall Eric and his abuse out of her life forever.

Stopped at the stonewall bordering the small parking lot, he took one last good look to detect any movement below at the pond before the dusk light gave way to night.

Though he was furious, Gian weathered a self-conscious moment. Handling Angel would be tricky enough without his face bruised and tattered. He ran his fingers down the lapel of his shirt. Hopefully, his hard-earned muscular chest would distract her from the carnage above.

Listening to the wild sounds, Gian sensed he could travel unseen. The growing darkness would hide his approach. He wanted to assess her before showing himself.

Standing in the shadows at the sandy beach, Gian listened keenly. Good ‘watchdogs’, crickets went dead quiet whenever someone was near them. Their chirpy song was loud and distributed evenly around the edge of the perimeter.

Gian grumbled.

She was here--no matter if the insects chose to conceal her.

He drew in a deep draught of the cooling night air to chill the beads of sweat that popped out on his temples. Choosing the lower footpath to the south side of the pond, he remained in the thick grass to muffle any noise he might make.

The light from the rising moon reflected off the water’s surface, illuminating the beach that was across the large pond. No sign of her. Stopping at the full growth of cattails, Gian looked down as the hanging branches of a seven-foot willow tree brushed across his upper arm like gentle fingers. No doubt, this was a portent of the rest of the evening.

Eyeing the narrow dirt path that disappeared into the tall cattails, Gian licked the hard lump inside his mouth. He was about to leave his old life behind forever. To be with Angel, laid to waste would be all he’d been taught in his forty-five years of life on Tro^ious Acron.

But he had to see through new eyes. Human eyes. As Ushuatan demanded.

Angel was worth whatever sacrifice he had to make. With purpose pumping hot in his veins, Gian took his first step to that new life, too angry to be nervous.

The view of the pond opened up again at the end of the skinny winding trail. Angel was motionless, draped over the sitting rock. She was asleep, her head resting on her arm. Her luxurious hair was still slightly damp, but the ends were dry and fluttered over her back in the soft breeze. The thin flowery dress she wore barely covered her bent upper thigh. Little grains of sand clung to her bare heels. She looked vulnerable, stress etched into her face. Gian spread out the thin woven blanket and gently covered her with it.

Angel gasped and bolted to her feet. The blanket over her shoulders slipped down one arm. She caught and clutched it to her with such a tight grip her nails punched through the weave.

Her eyes darted to his. Down to the blanket. To him again. She twisted around and stared out at the water as if to avoid him, but her shoulders slacked and she turned back. The breeze waggled a hank of hair across her cheeks below her tired eyes, framing their redness.

Chasing behind the waning breeze was another. It flung open one lapel of his shirt. Blew her hair in the other direction, fully exposing her sad face. She settled for staring at the ground at his feet.

"I’m very sorry Eric attacked you. You’re within your rights to have him arrested."

He nodded with surety. But even though he yearned to do it, he’d jeopardize his hard-earned popularity with the twins. Tossing their father in jail would be a fatal move. Besides, his plan was much better for everyone.

Overwrought and clearly exhausted, she sighed. She stared at his mouth again. "Though, what he really deserves is to meet someone who punches harder than he does."

Gian nodded at the first of Angel’s desires tonight. So be it. Besides, he mused darkly, he looked forward to it.

She turned away and lifted her face to the next soft breeze, closing her eyes. Another big sigh slowly sailed out. A small whimper followed.

Gian took the human initiative. He went to her and pressed close, he slid his arms around her and rested his cheek against damp hair. She loosed a heart-wrenching sob from deep within and twisted around in his grasp. She clung as if he was the only force holding her up.

"Kristen warned me that Eric would get aggressive. I should have listened. I’m sorry," she cried on his shoulder.

Executing the correct nurturing moves, he stroked her hair while she wept. Her warm tears dripped onto his skin, her breasts crushed against his chest. The sensations were singularly provoking. "Youu’re not responsible for hiss actions."

Her breath cut off sharply. For a moment, insect song filled the silence between them. Then she moaned from deep within her soul and crumpled.

He hugged more tightly to hold her up, though, this time, the protective urge welling in his heart filled him with satisfaction. "Aye will protect youu, messenger angel," he swore to her, "Youu will not stand alone anymore."

Expecting her relief, Gian was surprised when she wrenched from his arms and backed away. Her mouth worked as if to speak, but she ended up shaking her head. The next instant her chin drooped onto her chest; she stared at her toes, which were barely in the water.

"But I’m responsible for my actions," she barely whispered.

He lifted her chin to make her look at him. "Not when Eric is involved." More tears splashed down her cheeks and dripped on his hand. Splattered on his chest.

"You don’t know what I’ve done." She pulled away.

"Knowing doesn’t matter. Hhe will not harm youu ever again, Angel. This is maye promise." Gian breathed against the aggressive slam of his heartbeat.

She dragged a corner of the blanket over her wet cheeks. "Don’t be so hasty with your gallantry. You may wish to know what you’re overlooking."

Gian spread his arms. "Then tell mme."

All aggression drained and brought her posture down with it. "I can’t." She shook her head. "But I can’t avoid it. Well, maybe I can, if I’m lucky." Hope seemed to brighten her face a little, but it didn’t last. "But I can’t. An omission of the facts is lying, too," she muttered to herself as she sank down on the sitting rock and held her head in her hands.

Gian’s fists balled at his side and he glanced into the sky at the moon. Had to be near ten p.m. Destroy their bond time was running out. Best to speed her along.

He knelt and planted his hands on either side of her to create an effective blockade. "Tell mme, or don’t. We have business to discuss."

Angel looked at him with moist bleary eyes. "Why is your English suddenly fluent?"

Gian shrugged one shoulder. "Aye learned the language the first weeks here. Time to use it."

A moist breeze tugged at their hair, wound gently between and around them, and sent a whoosh of noise over the tall grass and brush.

Angel searched his face. "Why?"

With savage contentment, Gian seized his opportunity. "Simple adjustment of priorities. What Angel wants, Aye will give."

She leaned back as if she suddenly didn’t know him. "What?"

"What youu want of mme, Aye will give youu."

"You will?" she screeched. "I don’t understand. How can you say this to me when you don’t know… I don’t know what you mean!"

Gian adored those thick dark paint lashes. Despite the redness around her eyes from crying and the glaze of defeat in them, she was a vision of angelic loveliness. Ushuatan had been remarkably kind to him.

"Youu desire a union. That is now youurs to claim. Privately. Publicly."

Her chest heaved from her harsh breaths. "You may not be so quick to offer if you knew that...if I admitted..." Her tears renewed. She fiddled with the edge of the blanket, her eyes downcast. "I’ve made a terrible mistake. With possible long lasting results."

"The problem will be overcome."

Angel jerked her head up. "You don’t even know what it is."

Gian stifled the urge to get annoyed. "Either tell mme what distresses youu so or never mention it again."

Angel struggled to get up. "I can’t. I just can’t."

Gian pressed down on her thighs to keep her still. He brought his face close and stared deep into her teary eyes. "Aye don’t care what it is. Maye vow to youu is unconditional."

She swallowed a sob, covering her mouth with a shaky hand. "Even if ‘it’ is a child? Eric’s child?" The instant she said it, a flood of wetness cascaded down her cheeks and splashed onto his skin once again.

Gian absorbed her words while she rocked back and forth and struggled not to weep.

He’d been sure the issue would turn out to be carnal. There was no more abiding arena than that between she and Eric. But her ‘guilt’ was a very positive sign. She felt so deeply for him that she considered the incident a ‘betrayal’. A smile of wonderment curved Gian’s sore mouth when he considered the long lasting results. What a strange twist of fate. Ushuatan would give him a child despite his infertility? Amazing. "A child would be welcome."

"You would be glad to see me bear Eric a child? Are you insane?"

"No, Aye am not." She was the one who was insane, but he would guide her through that.

Blazing blue eyes flicked up. "How can you not care that I had to be with...in order to get this way I had to..." she cut off, unable to finish either admission. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Gian lifted her chin gently. "Aye will make youu happy."

Angel whispered breathlessly, "Are you asking me to marry you?"

Ah, success. "Yes."

She seemed star-struck for a moment, little lights sparkled in her eyes. Then it all drained away. "Wouldn’t that be just great. Super smart you, married to a flaky me? You’d be hard pressed to stay content, I’m sure."

Gian grumbled, hurt by her picture of the future. "Youu may be driven by emotional outbursts, Angel, but youu do please mme. Very much." With the back of his hand, he brushed a hank of her drying hair away from her face. "Aye am the one with much to learn. Arrogant and stubborn, Aye have compounded youur vulnerability. Aye am the one who is sorry, Angel."

"You? How are you to blame for what I did? Besides, you said it was his fault. Make up your mind."

Affection welled in Gian’s throat. He clung briefly to his last moment of Tro^ian propriety before bidding it farewell. "If Aye had given youu what youu needed, would youu have gone to him?"

Angel’s little bit of defiance colored her pained expression. "Both of you serve yourselves as you see fit," she complained. "I’m sorry, that’s not fair. You have an excuse, you were brought up differently."

"There is no excuse for maye neglect. Custom or not, Aye knew what youu needed and refused to give it." Her trembling hand alighted very gently near his bruise. Gian saw a fleeting glimpse of the nurse surface behind her distress.

"You’re offering to marry me? Knowing all you do?"

"With pleasure, yes."

She slumped and drew in a deep, filling breath. "That’s so sweet." But suddenly she grew angry. "Oh, sure. Do you expect me to be a celibate like you? After all, I don’t want another child, and by Tro^ian custom, your sex life is supposedly over because you are unable to father one. Perhaps you’ll allow me to keep Eric as a lover?"

Gian scowled.

"I’m sorry. I’m mean. But I can’t just shut off my primal urges the way you can."

Gian wiped the new flow of tears off her reddened cheeks. He waited for her to calm before he finished their pact. Finally, she did, and gave him a dreary look. "The physical intimacy youu require will be given."

Angel scoffed. "You? Engage in the act of sex to please me? Would that be once a year? Or some other sparsely scattered arrangement?"

Gian forced his words out with surprising conviction. "As youu require."

Angel laughed at him. "Will you be able to endure it?"

If Gian could have kissed her to silence her traitorous insanity with proof of his claim, he would have. Instead, he glared until her smile faded. "Do not mock mme!"

Her face paled. Then fire ignited behind her watering eyes. "Prove it, now."

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. This was easier than he’d dared hope for. "Upon marriage. Proper human custom."

Her expression twisted unpleasantly. "I see. And when will that take place? Six months from now? A year? Whatever delay you wish!"

Ah, she was so easy to steer around. Gian glanced up at the moon. "Tonight. Now. Pastor Smythe is at his daughter’s house. A planned homebirth of his grandchild is imminent by dawn. Hhe sounded most intrigued at maye request for the ceremony. Whatever the hour, hhe claimed hhe would surely be awake."

Angel’s hands raised as if to touch his face, but they froze in the air nearby. She stared as if mesmerized.

Using her shock to his advantage, Gian escorted her to the house. While she washed up and changed, he replaced his shirt for a more modest colonial one, but buttoned it only two-thirds the way up. Angel cared little for formality. Gian was beginning to appreciate it more than he thought he would. Malana was so stuck on tradition and formal presentation, so impressed by his status, the status she eagerly married to make her own. He wondered why he was thinking of Malana this night, but he supposed, her hasty remarriage had affected him greatly. Perhaps it was normal that his remarriage reminded him of the unpleasant past.

Standing outside Angel’s bedroom, Gian decided to hurry her some more. He knocked lightly.

Opening the door slowly, she peered out.

"It is 11:00. We must go."

She nodded and stepped into the hall. She brushed one hand self-consciously over the front of her lacy peach dress. "I hope you like this."

Gian murmured appreciatively. How lovely she looked. Understated, yet elegant. As always. The cosmetics she applied to her face and eyes masked most of the signs of her distress. Her hair was combed and shiny. "Youu will be an excellent wife."

Angel gave him that look again, as if she didn’t know him suddenly.

Gian regretted her unrest. He was pushing her faster than perhaps he should, but she needed this ceremony as much as he desired it.

Guiding her out the back door to his truck, he loaded her in, taking a moment to meet eyes with her. Struck again by her exquisite beauty, he nodded with satisfaction and closed the door. On Tro^ious Acron, taking a human wife would be considered an abomination. But Gian felt lucky to have her.

A smug smile hardened his face. Within the hour, Eric’s hold over Angel would be banished, their long bond forever divided. Not even a conception could change that.

Angel seemed in shock through the whole ceremony. Standing in front of the hearth in Pastor Smythe’s daughter’s house, they were properly wed according to her customs.

When Gian pulled the two gem-encrusted gold wedding bands from his pocket, he hoped she was alert enough to perceive he’d used only jewels that had come from her mines. Sliding larger ring in her shaky fingers, he held it until he was sure she had it. He poised his left hand, eager to receive it according to her tradition.

As she pushed the thick gold band on him, a sweep of sensation tickled through to his wrist. He recited his vows and guided the smaller, more delicately proportioned ring over her slender finger.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Wishing he could offer one Angel would remember, Gian was forced to settle for a soft latch of relaxed lips over hers. He released her and stood tall, waiting for her reaction to the indelible commitment between them.

Angel looked at her ring and then up at the pastor with big round eyes. "Is this legal?"

Suddenly a squall of a newly born baby echoed from down the hall. Pastor Smythe and his wife, who was witness, beamed at each other. "This new marriage has just been praised again."

Both bolted for the hall. Pastor Smythe stopped his retreat one step into it. "Mrs. Daushur, I don’t perform fake ceremonies. Congratulations, may you two have a very happy and fruitful marriage." He shook both their hands vigorously before hurrying after his wife.

Angel dragged her eyes up to Gian, her left hand still in the air.

Gian wrapped his fingers gently around it. "The Town Clerk recommended Aye wait. But Aye am allowed to work, pay taxes, drive. All of those are legal contracts. Aye doubt this contract will be singularly disputed."

Angel’s nod was a slow exaggerated droop. Gian sensed her overload of emotion. He pulled her down onto the couch and waited for her to begin breathing deeply before he asserted himself once more. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you. I can scarcely believe this is happening."

Gian actually looked forward to the last phase of his goal now. He’d committed to her almost the instant he laid his eyes on her last winter anyway. Gian gently lifted her chin so their eyes could meet. "One matter remains between us."

"Oh?"

"Consummation of marriage vows."

Angel’s head waggled, her eyes rolled back. Gian cradled her small limp form in his arms and fanned her face with his hand, fighting a smile. Finally offered what she chased after so aggressively for months, she fainted. She was remarkably endearing. And lovely to the core.

And legally his wife.

Gian chuckled with great satisfaction, envisioning Eric’s explosion when he found out. But what if Kristen told him tonight?

Sobering, Gian fanned harder. Best get his bride home. There was pleasurable work left to finish and may Ushuatan have mercy on his Tro^ian soul, he was eager to have her.

Angel’s mind began to whirl again when a bump in the road jarred her awake.

Mrs. Daushur.

Why had she married Gian? Never once had she entertained the idea in all the months he was with her. Maybe she fancied herself smitten with him, or intoxicated by his powerful magnetic presence, even in love with him.

But she’d just eloped with him! By virtue of the simple words ‘I do’, she had an alien husband.

Growing too groggy to fret, Angel was lulled back to sleep by the powerful drone of the truck’s engine as they traveled home.

When they stopped, Angel stirred again and opened her eyes, blinking several times. The quiet click of Gian’s door was followed by silence. She sighed gratefully for the peace and let her eyes droop shut.

But her car door was whooshed opened. Gian scooped her up and set her on her feet.

Without breaking stride, he closed the door and hurried her up the walk. Grumbling when the key jammed in the lock, he finally wrestled the backdoor open and tossed the keys on the countertop. "Do youu require a refreshment first?"

Exhausted, she giggled at his rushed gallantry. "I’m fine..." Before she could finish, she was being steered down the hall. Passing her bedroom doorway and his, Angel steamed along obediently. She wondered what he would do if she held her ground. Carry her?

Once inside the library, Gian released her and swung around. He sent the double doors flying shut and locked them. Instantly, he was at her side and motioned his hand over to the sitting area where they’d shared many hours of talk over countless books, movies, theories of ethics and religion.

Angel followed his direction by sight. "What?"

"Come with mme." Gian took her elbow and herded her towards it.

Angel stopped at the cushy throne chair and grasped onto the edge for anchorage in case he insisted any further. "Have we matters to discuss, Gian?"

With brows narrowed, his face reflected confusion. "This room is best for privacy."

"Yes, it always has been. But privacy for what?"

Gian sank down into the backless lounger and swung one leg over, straddling it. "To complete the tradition."

Angel gaped at him. "What? Here? You say it as if it’s an expected duty, not a long awaited delicacy."

His handsome face set dubiously. "It is long awaited." He held out his arms with invitation. "And also a special delicacy this early morning."

Angel marveled how fetching he looked offering himself. After all his rejections these months, his urgency tonight was bizarre. "I-I don’t understand. Consummate our vows, right now, right here on this... lounge?" Her hand closed protectively over the V-ed neckline of her dress.

"Would youu prefer another chair?"

Another chair? So, Tro^ians had sex sitting up. Angel had to admit he looked completely edible with his thick thighs suggestively spread by the width of the narrow divan. This room was securely locked and the way he bounced the key across the top of the walltable a few moments ago, they might be lucky to ever find it. Offering his sexual favors, her new husband was a hungry wife’s dreams.

But something was very wrong. This sudden switch in his demeanor was unnerving. Angel stepped back. "Why here?"

Gian glanced around the room, then down at himself. "Why not here?"

Angel frowned. "Why are you in a rush to do this?"

"Why do youu delay?"

She stamped her foot in frustration. "Why the change of heart, especially after all I did? You’re not making your usual sense."

Gian dropped his arms. "Human custom. Marriage, consummation. Would youu prefer another room?"

"No. I mean, I don’t know, this seems so...like business." A remnant from two days of crying, a quiet shudder shook her shoulders. Angel chewed a fingernail. "Why are you so eager to do this very thing that goes against all your Tro^ian beliefs?"

"Aye offer exactly what youu want, and youu refuse." Confusion swept over his face and he swiped his hand over his eyebrow, fingers lodged into his auburn hair. "Aye had not anticipated this," he murmured with disbelief.

Angel smiled slightly. His surprise was adorable. "I haven’t refused. I just don’t...this is all so...sudden..." Her huge yawn broke the silence. "We’re married! I can scarcely believe I did that. I keep reliving the scene in front of the fireplace over and over in my mind, hearing myself say ‘I do’. Then I wait to wake up from such a wild dream."

"We are wed. Time to consummate the bond."

"I expected some weird scholarly ritual or... or... Here?"

His expression grew sorrowful. He touched his bruised mouth. "Do youu object to this?"

"No! Don’t think that. You’re injured, not ugly." Angel couldn’t deny the tingle of excitement inside her. He didn’t seem like a man about to do something he thought distasteful. The idea of coupling with him had her nervous as a blushing virgin. Perhaps she was thrown by the lack of a bed.

Angel swallowed hard. She’d schemed and schemed for a chance like this, so what was her problem? Heart thumping, she was overpowered by emotions again and began to tear.

In one swift move, Gian rose up, caught her hand and pulled her across his lap. "This occasion is for intimacy, not crying."

The feel of his hard body and alluring warmth sent a shiver of desire through her. When Angel leaned away, the move only stretched her thighs wider over his. Self-conscious, she scooted back, her hips ended up intimately close to his. "It’s one thirty in the morning. We’re both tired. We could wait until we’re rested."

"No. Aye want to consummate ouur bond." Gian’s gaze fixed unblinking on hers. The intensity glowing behind them intimidated her even more.

There was no passion burning in his eyes. He wasn’t the least bit romantic about the event. Only inspired to complete the marital contract. Confused, Angel stifled the urge to cry.

He stroked his fingers gently across her cheek.

She tensed.

He frowned. Raising one leg, he secured his foot on the cushion. The move pressed his thigh into her back and set her off balance, pushing her against his chest before she realized what happened. His subtle scent emanated from under his half-open shirt. Angel breathed through her mouth to avoid smelling him, but it was too late, and a warm ache grew in her throat anyway. She’d hungered him for so long. But…

"This can’t be duty, Gian. You must want to be with me or I don’t want to do it. The marriage is legal and binding without consummation if both parties agree," she croaked, averting her eyes. Was she nuts to let him off the hook?

Lifting her chin with a curled finger, Gian made her look at him. "Aye wish the intimacy." With surprising gentleness, the back of his big hand smoothed along the curve of her throat. "Aye want youu to think of youurself as miine."

She opened her mouth to tell him they should wait, but no sound came out to deny him. Daring to trust, she relaxed a little. She bent her neck to accommodate his soft caress. Her pulsing pressure points tickled in expectation. Oooh. She could do this. "Aren’t you anxious at all?" she whispered breathlessly.

"No." His thumb moved up her throat. Sensation rippled across her chin. His fingers swept across her cheek and speared through her hair. "Why would Aye be?"

She groaned softly. "I don’t know. Worried that you might do something wrong?" Another gentle whiff of his scent swirled lusciously under her nose. Oh, mmm. Angel curled her hand around the loose material of his shirt. God, he was deliciously sensual. And so…built now. She smiled wistfully at the scrumptious deep valley of muscle cleavage until his shirt hid the rest from her. Should she encourage him to continue?

"Youu are beautiful. Want to please youu." Gian dragged his thumbs slightly harder along her jawline all the way down her throat to the small hollow at the base. "Aye am honored youu allowed the marriage. And this intimacy."

"Honored?" she murmured with surprise. Honored? Angel stared deep into his copper eyes, trying to see his Tro^ian brand of desire.

This glorious alien scholar was in his prime of life, his shoulders twice as wide as hers, his thick-boned body ten times more powerful than her slight five foot two form. He could crush her throat easily, but instead, his hand moved so tenderly over her skin, wringing the fullest of response from her. And he wanted her.

Anticipation knotted in her belly. "Gian, will you have pleasure from this?"

"Already Aye do," he murmured with the barest hint of ardor. His caress over her shoulders dipped into every curve and contour as if he was measuring her for a shameless catsuit, or tracing sacred magic symbols on her flesh.

For a man from a world of bookworms, he was actually extremely sensual. Her eyelids drooped.

"Angel," he said firmly. His hands stopped adoring her.

"What?" she asked impatiently.

"Look at mme."

"What? Why?"

"Intimacy cannot happen with eyes closed. Or aimed elsewhere."

"Oh. According to Tro^ian style, right?"

Gian’s eyes narrowed at her unintended challenge. His face moved inches from hers, just under her ear and inhaled deeply, sensually. Thick strands of his soft auburn hair tickled her face.

Her whole body tingled. Angel moaned with delight and then wondered why. He hadn’t even touched her, just...sniffed. But it was so hotly erotic anyway. When he exhaled, warm air puffed onto her neck and sent shivers cascading down to the tips of her nipples.

She blew out a loaded breath.

He murmured a sensual sound. "Touch mme."

Such a husky request, and from him. Warm rough hands slid down her throat and kept going, stalling modestly where the material of her dress stopped. "Oh, Gian…" …yes. She copied his moves, caressing down his throat, and lower, dragging her thumbs down the deep valley until the V of his buttoned shirt stopped her again. She fiddled with the top button, cocking her head to see what she was doing.

He bent his to catch her gaze. "Look at mme."

"Look at mmmee." Angel wrapped her arms around his neck, amused by his autocratic style of lovemaking. "I thought you using pronouns would make you fit in, but you elongate them so dramatically that it makes you stand out more. What ever am I going to do with you? I wish we could kiss," she whispered, her lower lip brushing over his. "That adds to intimacy."

"Not likely." He entertained her upper arms with a stimulating slide of his fingertips.

"Once your mouth is healed, you’ll see." She tasted him, kissing down the undamaged side of his chin and across his neck to the pressure points he’d awakened on her already.

Obviously distracted by her taboo oral contact, his caress stopped and his face relaxed with the suggestion of enjoyment. He didn’t even chastise her for breaking their gaze.

"Oral deviation, disgusting, isn’t it?" she whispered mischievously in his ear.

Gian’s half-closed eyes shot wide open. His full lips formed a slight, adorable pout.

"It’s hard to admit when you’re wrong, I know."

The sudden shift of power aroused her even more. She worked open the buttons on his shirt and spread it over his shoulders. Her greedy hands roamed the wonderful hardness she’d longed endlessly to feel. The massages she’d given him entailed feeling up only his shoulders, his back, his thick sexy arms, but never this succulent beefcake plumpness. "There is one choice pleasure I would love to give you since my mouth is fine," she challenged in a husky tone, but sucked in a sharp breath when he unzipped the front of her dress as if he’d done it a hundred times before. He seemed pleased to find the zipper kept going, all the way to her hem until it separated. He slowly pushed the flimsy material over her shoulders, exposing her the same she’d done to him.

The air-conditioned coolness of the room seemed like a winter freeze and Angel shivered, but slowly his warm hands caressed the same trail over her chest the same way that she had over his. The seat of power shifted again.

A breathless sigh tumbled out of her mouth. "You’re so calm and composed, will you stay this way to the end?"

"Be more assertive and find out," he murmured while he kneaded her breasts.

She yanked at her bra, unable to get the damned thing off quickly enough. She wanted to feel him skin to skin. One tiny hook of the four seemed permanently welded shut. Ready to tear it, Angel relaxed when it finally snapped open.

"Aye cannot doubt that youu are eager for maye touch," he said thickly, giving a satisfied smirk.

She registered that as an Eric-like boast of supremacy. "I recall being the one rushed here." Angel let the lacy brassier slip from her fingers and watched a warm glow ignite in his eyes. His hand flexed, but he didn’t touch them, no doubt, because she wasn’t touching him.

Time to torture the man. Just a bit. Instead of touching him so he could mimic her moves, Angel dragged her tight nipples along his hard chest.

He grumbled hotly, even breaking eye contact to look down.

"Admit that you like looking at them, that you adore how they feel in your hands."

"Like fondling youu, Angel." He tilted his head and nibbled softly down her chin and along her neck. "By dawn, youu will feel like maye mate."

"Mmmm," she purred. Then she pushed away and gave him a sharp gaze. "You’re bad, you’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that goal, too, won’t you? Even swallow your prejudice and kiss me even though you’d rather not."

His tongue slid sensuously over his lower lip. "Aye can taste youu."

"Do you say this to soften me up, or do you mean it?"

His brows knit ever so slightly, just before his hot, rough palms roamed teasing along the sensitive underside of her breasts.

The quivery knot in her belly tightened. Her arms gave out, but she perked her posture so he could continue with his strange assault on her senses. Teeth pressed to her lower lip, Angel closed her eyes. "Fine, we’ll argue later," she whispered with little conviction.

She hung on his every caress, waiting breathlessly for the next. But when his hands stalled, her eyes flew open. When she resumed ‘gazing’ obediently, his maddening strokes began again. "You’re a wicked thing, training me like a dog, tossing rewards for compliance."

"Show mme how youu want to be touched," he enticed her, slowing his fingertips to a tingling tickle on her sides under her arms.

Angel reached for his hand, ready to guide him. But she realized he’d already taught her his own sexual language. Careful not to interrupt his gentle swirl on the underside of her breasts, she smoothed her hands over his chest.

Gian copied her motion exactly, fondling her breasts with the same pressure and rhythm.

Staring deep into his eyes, Angel experimented with her own pleasure, feeling him wherever she wanted his hands. Time ceased to exist. Her desire below burgeoned, pulsing through her veins.

Suddenly, she burned to explore more private places on his body. She’d never touched anyone there but Eric. But would Gian allow her to?

She smiled demurely. "Are you enjoying this?"

"How can youu not see?"

She pressed her palms to his chest, she felt his heart beat swiftly, breaths deep and hard. Even his touch had gained a growing enthusiasm that she hadn’t been aware of until now. "I thought...I worried this might be duty and.…" Angel continued to stare into dusky auburn eyes. "This how Tro^ians make love?"

"No. Tro^ian coupling much slower and more orderly than this."

"Orderly?" She lowered her mouth to his full lower lip and dared to kiss the undamaged side. A small salvo of ardent nibbles finally earned one short kiss from him. "It can be nice, can’t it?" She allowed no time to answer. Covering his bruised mouth with her own, she knew she was hurting him, but she carefully took a quick searching kiss, briefly brushing her tongue over his.

His heartbeat quickened. She could feel it pounding against her breasts. "What will you do to me now?" she whispered, staring straight into his smoldering eyes.

The corner of Gian’s mouth quirked up as if she’s said something funny. "Youu will show mme."

Ooh. She was about to find out if he was truly excited. Nervous, she slid her hand low, waiting to see if he would stop her. She popped the snap on his waistband. Grasping onto the little zipper tab, Angel pulled, watching his every reaction. The smolder in his gaze grew duskier when her knuckles grazed over the thick mound beneath. She cooed softly with delight. Ohhh, yes, he was.

"Perhaps Tro^ians move s l o w l y, but you’re ready for action now." A moment later her victory speech was shocked silent when her loins were jolted by a gentle swipe of knuckles over her panties. She gasped, not sure if she liked the rush and ebb of intense sensation. His deliberate, touch-for-touch way actually gave more pleasure.

A scandalized laugh vibrated in her throat. The idea of him copying her every move down there--ooh, wicked.

Angel parted the flaps, pleasantly surprised when his hips shifted to help her free up the material constriction.

"Not usually dressed in restrictive clothing to couple," he apologized.

"Not to worry. Clothes get in the way all the time."

When she slid an anxious hand down his belly, Gian raised one brow. Angel looked down, not sure what irked him. "You’re right, these panties must go."

She yanked the flimsy cloth off each side of her hip. Lifting only slightly to pull the tattered cloth from underneath her, she tossed it aside to keep her bra company somewhere. "Now you are free to explore."

Jittery, Angel feasted her eyes on her prize. "I’ve never known anyone but Eric," she murmured to herself with a wonderful sense of victory and rushed greedy fingers around his thick Tro^ian penis.

He exhaled sharply.

Goodness, it was really fat, she thought with concern. Undaunted, she caressed over the head, committing to memory the exotic feel of the three engorged ridges spaced evenly down his shaft just like a sex toy in a catalog. "Oh, my, I’ve wondered endlessly about what these would feel like," she whispered almost to herself.

Gian narrowed smoldering eyes at her in confusion. Then awareness brought the slightest blush to his cheeks.

"I saw...when you were...it was necessary, you needed a bath..." she tried to explain delicately. Her pleasurable exploration was shattered when intrusive fingers speared through her curly hairs. They glided over her swelled sensitive nub, along her soft delicate skin, until one gently penetrated her.

By his surprised grunt, she knew in an instant that his hand was drenched with almost embarrassingly copious fluid. A twang of pleasure burst in her belly. Frustrated when Gian ceased moving, she grumbled in complaint, but finally opened her eyes and rejoined the intimate gaze. "I’m sorry."

"No need," he murmured roughly, letting out a hot breath.

She stroked him slowly to imprint the delicious feel of it to memory and swirled her finger around the tip, over the slit to encourage him to rub in her most sensitive spot. "Is this different than you expected, Gian?"

"Wasn’t sure what to expect with youu." His finger plunged inside her again, his thumb rubbed lightly over her swollen clitoris in examination as if he’d never felt one before. Even his expression mirrored muted curiosity. "Youu rush. Focus on a few areas, ignore the rest. Build sensations too fast to control."

Though delivered on a husky tone, his unflattering critique annoyed her. She pushed her hands down the length of him with an aggressively tight squeeze.

Gian groaned as if in pain and dropped his forehead against hers. His slippery finger sank deep inside her with a roughness, and his thumb jerked forcibly.

Angel gasped and arched, unsure if she was feeling pleasure or torture. But his passion-laced sound pumped the swell in her groin into full blown begging. Her womb contracted with the force of an orgasm that did not peak. "I want you," she demanded hotly. She lifted on her legs, surprised when his hand slid under hers, unseating her hold. Glancing down, she nearly swooned at his willingness to oblige her. He curled his thumb around the thick base and aimed it for her.

She raised her hips a little more to meet him, her tongue pressed hard to the corner of her mouth in concentration. He seated nicely the first try. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she rocked her hips a little, sinking him to the first rib. Angel clamped her teeth into her lip and tightened her legs to stop penetration until she was ready for more of him.

"I’ve fantasized often about this moment, but I never thought it would happen," she whispered on heaved breaths. "Did you ever think that you’d do a human female one day?"

He looked at her in surprise, chuckling as if she was unbelievable. "Happy to be wrong on that account," He clasped her waist and gently applied downward pressure.

His desire to be inside was hotly erotic. "You are a basic male animal, as I suspected." Risking pain, she released her legs to send him deep inside her, but nothing happened. Her eyes went round. She squirmed, whimpering. This was an awkward mount. "Push harder dearest, harder," she urged him, patting his arms in encouragement.

His fingers tightened on her waist. Then he forced her down the length of him.

Both of them groaned at the same time.

Gian grimaced almost as if he were in pain. "Angel very small woman," he mumbled breathlessly.

"Don’t blame the squeeze on me, you’re a very big man," Angel whimpered.

"No, Angel very small woman," he gritted out, releasing a heavy breath she hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

"Do you like it?" she whispered just as urgently. Finally, she relaxed. "You feel good."

His only reply was a low sensual grunt.

She nipped hungrily at his lips. "Do we move now, Gian?"

"Move?"

Angel’s aching insides contracted with promise. "We aren’t going to move?" She undulated her hips gently.

He sucked in a breath and suddenly she was sliding up the rigid length of him. Unseated, Angel screeched in objection and dug her nails into his thick shoulder muscles. She broke their locked gaze to look down, regretful when his glistening erection slapped against his belly, homeless.

"Ouch," he gritted through a clenched jaw.

Angel relaxed her fingers to stop clawing him. "I’m sorry. But what are you doing?" she nearly yelled.

"Torture."

"Torture? I didn’t do anything...hardly," she complained, searching his eyes for the answer she needed. But sensation below changed her focus. She pushed her hand between them until she could wrap it around his rigid flesh. It pulsed, throbbed. "You’re ready to come?"

"Not yet," he whispered hoarsely, breathing hard as if he’d been running. "But soon."

She seated him in the slippery wetness before he spilled his pleasure outside of her.

He uttered her name in the sexiest whisper she’d ever heard.

Ooh, how erotic that felt. Angel pressed a drunken kiss to the good side of his mouth. "I’m yours now," she murmured, hoping to inspire the peak he fought.

Gian dragged in another dramatic gust of air and actually closed his eyes. "Not yet youu aren’t."

"Surrender, I want what you fight giving me." Angel shifted ever so slightly over him.

He tightened his anchor grip and shook his head ‘no’ but his arousing grunts grew deeper still. His fingers gripped her thighs with bruising pressure. "Not fighting," he forced out.

"You’re not?" She bucked her hips for an illegal stroke. "What’s the delicious pulse then?"

"Normal?"

"Normal?" Angel bit her lower lip, fascinated by the luscious sensation. If she concentrated hard enough, she could come this way. "This is a… a… pre-orgasmic condition for you?"

He nodded feverishly. "Tro^ian woman respond same way."

"Like this?" Angel tightened her inner muscles, mimicking the contractions of a woman’s climax.

He gusted out hotly. "Yes."

Angel kept doing it, in love with the growing ardor in his copper eyes. Trying to drive him over the edge, she worked him, only to realize she worked herself in instead. She tried to breathe, but sucked uselessly, sure she was suffocating.

Forehead pressed hard against hers, gaze deep into hers, he challenged, "Now youu are mine."

A powerful climax seized her. Instead of a pleasure explosion just in her loins, it shot through her body. Tingled all of her limbs. Prickles raced across her scalp. She saw a flash of stars before her eyes.

He sucked in a deep breath that was cut short. Jerking beneath her, he uttered the sexiest moan of surrender she’d ever heard.

Watching pleasure overtake him was a special thrill. "Yeah, babe," she murmured.

Spent, she sagged, burying her face in the sweaty warmth of his neck. Their heartbeats slammed almost in unison for a while until they both began to calm. "And I’d worried you would be cold and mechanical," she giggled to herself. "That’s a shamefully sensual style for a scholar."

"Beautiful angel," he whispered, hugging her as if they’d just reunited after being apart for ten years.

Gosh, he was sweet. "You’re a wonderful lover. I suppose I should be honest and admit that I’ve been worrying about being your wife."

He sighed contentedly. "Youu will be happy, messenger angel. Aye assure youu."

She brushed her lips over the hardness of his shoulder. "I believe you. After all, you’re an expert on foreplay."

"What is foreplay?"

"We call the caressing before the man thrusts, foreplay. You’ve never done it before, have you?"

"Thrust?"

Angel wiped beads of sweat off his brow. "Yes. After some hot foreplay, you’ll pull out most the way and then plunge back in. Many times. Feels incredibly good. I’m certain to squeal and squirm. You’re going to have to learn how, you know."

Gian grumbled something that sounded like objection and acceptance, but the fire in his eyes told her she wouldn’t necessarily have to force him.

"Our first time was your way. Now you have to try it my style. The first time was incredible. You don’t think the second could be anything less, do you?"

"No," he finally admitted a little breathlessly.

"Didn’t think so." She passionately kissed the unbruised half of his mouth. "I hope you don’t disapprove, but I’m thrilled we don’t have to worry about conceiving."

"If mmy flaw pleases youu, then Aye have no complaint." He rubbed his forehead lightly over hers. "Is safer this way, too." He caressed tentatively along her arms.

Mmm. "You’d be a good father, though."

Gian shrugged in his humble way. "Why move when it is not necessary to?"

Angel stifled a smile. The issue of ‘thrust’ had him concerned. "Movement can be heavenly and we are going to try it. After all, you like my kisses." She licked his neck, tasting the unique sweetness to his sweat. He hated salt and ate it only if he couldn’t avoid it. His body fluid reflected that. A naughty thought made her smile. Oooh. What would he taste like if she…

"Agreed," he said as if accepting a punishment, clamping down harder on her hips when she shifted.

Suddenly, Angel became aware of his testing touch, the sensation of being completely stretched and filled, still. "Are you still hard?" Astonished, she fought his hold and shifted around, ignoring his growl.

"And youu expected...?"

"Never mind." Angel smoothed her palms up his hard arms. "How long will you stay this way?"

Puzzlement swept over his face. "Until finished?"

"Oh, Gian, you’re a jewel," she purred. "So, I deduce that you’re used to more than once?"

His copper gaze dropped self-consciously. "Not taboo."

Angel snickered at that revealing admission. "No, it’s not. So, let’s make love again."

Gian murmured a hungry sound. He stroked across her cheek.

"Nu-uh," she refused. "My way. I’m going to move and you’re going to follow me. Please."

With brows knit in confusion, he nodded.

Wedging her feet against the arm of the chair where he leaned, Angel tightened her hold around his neck. She pushed off until he was between her legs. Well, this worked so well.

"How is movement accomplished this way?" he complained, rearing up on his arms.

Angel crossed her ankles over his hips. "You’re about to learn, stud. First, just relax, I won’t rush you."

Gian scoffed. "Not likely."

"Now, this is no time to be disagreeable. Just relax and caress whatever part of me you wish." Angel’s hands smoothed around the sides of her breasts. "Like here. I don’t mind at all that you like to fondle these." When the smolder behind his eyes grew duskier, she smiled victoriously.

Ohh, yes. At least being Mrs. Daushur had incredible benefits...

Five fifteen the next evening, Gian grumbled as he examined his reflection in the tall mirror of his dresser.

Right hand stalled on the cuff button of his left sleeve, he gazed deep into his own eyes, searching for what he wasn’t sure. He felt different. Being attacked had done something to him, changed his perspective. Helped him feel righteous about fitting into his messenger angel’s world.

Tro^ian, he should be ashamed of his evil feeling rage. But each time his eyes dropped to the nasty colored bruise covering a fifth of his face like a diseased, dying flower, he couldn’t find the decency within him. Four closely spaced, darkish-red circles composed the oval center and light-red, green and yellow mottled streaks formed petals all around it. Gian scowled.

Eric premeditated this brutal level of damage and suffering. Scrambled his superior Tro^ian brains for two days. Gian had been so dizzy he couldn’t walk, had savage headaches, throbbing pain in his jaw, on the whole side of his face, even his teeth hurt. He couldn’t connect one thought to the other without great effort, and sometimes that hadn’t even worked. Staring out the windows for days afterward was the only thing he could do well.

Turning away from the mirror, Gian flicked his fingers over the fabric at his wrist to unwrinkle it. He detested having to face everyone. He looked ridiculous with the evil artwork tattooed on his mouth and chin. After all, unspoken human law deemed Eric the victor, even though his attack was illegal. But today, Gian would set that aright.

He wouldn’t have to wait long. Eric was bringing William and Samuel home this eve by five thirty. Soon Eric would know Angel had violated their long maintained twosome and feverishly welcomed another man into her life, and inside her body. His mortal enemy at that. It was the ultimate insult to another human male--to penetrate his woman. In effect, ‘sully’ her.

Thinking of the little human treasure he won from Eric, he gave a wicked little laugh.

Ah, the beautiful Angel Wright-Daushur.

No doubt, she was wonderfully content because he was finally her sexual conquest, pleasurably dominated and sampled with her appalling human techniques.

When sexual heat rushed through his body, Gian glanced around his large, comfortable chamber, hoping for a distraction. His gaze lingered on the bed against his will.

She didn’t mind the lounge, or sitting when she coupled, but she didn’t prefer it, so they’d done it here several times. He rather liked being on his back with her mounted on top. She’d been even more assertive in her bed. Her hands and knees position vexed him. He’d like to think it was because her deep moans of pleasure were moving. Or was it because he liked seeing her impaled on his…

Hoping to find some respite from the carnal tortures she exercised on him and maybe have some conversation, he’d coaxed her into the private library where they’d talked so often, but she petitioned him there, too. Several more times. Her appetite for sex was legendary.

Trying to deny the arousal creeping through his body, Gian went to the nightstand. As he reached into the drawer for a small gift-wrapped box, his gaze wandered to the bed again.

A blush scalded his cheeks when he remembered what she’d done to him early after dawn today. Demanding that he submit to a new technique, she’d performed an appalling oral deviation. Angel gave him what she called a...

Put her mouth on his...

Stroked her hands at the same time and...

Her delectable moans of delight had filled the room as she slid her mouth up and down over his...

Angel loved doing it. Especially when he...

Gian closed his eyes at the shame of it, cheeks growing hotter.

His climax was a triumph for her. Her reaction was euphoria, like an idle scholar given an excellent new source manual to read. She’d greedily swallowed the pleasure draining out of him.

Then, as if to provoke him further, she made a perverse show of slowly coming face to face with him, licking her lips. Then she smeared her moist mouth over his for a gentle kiss. As if he didn’t know what her goal was.

And he did taste a new flavor on her--him.

Gian blew out a harried breath between his lips and shook his head, beset by the whole experience with her. Especially since he understood without being told, that one day, she would want him to do the same to her.

Only her rapture with him made any of her deplorable sexual intrigues tolerable. Angel was too much emotion, too much desire and too much sensation in a delightfully beautiful and small five foot two package. She turned the act of procreation into a clumsy chase for genital union and explosive finales. It was pure sensual torture to him.

Down below, his flesh betrayed his Tro^ian sensibilities and swelled.

Scandalized, he wiped a sudden burst of perspiration off his brow.

That part of him didn’t care about his moral reticence about the ‘vulgar’ acts. As a matter of fact, ever since she’d touched him there, she’d commanded it as surely as if it were her personal servant. A certain steamy look in her turquoise eyes, the suggestion of a demure smile on her plump rose lips, a purposeful sweep of her hand over his chest. If she used any of those tactics, it would engorge and rear up to obey her desires. Once it was like that, he was her captive, slave to her passions. On duty until she tired.

Gian reached for his doorlatch, his hand stalling as another thought hit him.

He’d obtained volumes of information about human sexual practices and properly recorded all of it.

In his head. It would be an indecency to scribe such appalling accounts to paper or disc.

He turned and took a last look at the bed, completing his thirty-nine-hour study on the subject. Shameless. Coarse. Lewd. Those were excellent words to describe the practices he’d been taught by his sweet-natured, gentle, kind and intelligent human mate. Gian composed a short personal summary of the experience to close the research file for the moment.

In conclusion, Humans craved sex so often because...they were very good at making it a pleasurably mind shattering experience.

He rolled his eyes, a smile trifling with the corners of his mouth again. Stepping out into the hall, he quietly closed his door.

The drone of many voices in the distance alerted him.

Low-pitched slow and deliberate tones identified Lyndon.

Two low, very fast-paced voices. The twins.

A melodic tinkle of familiar female laughter. Kristen.

The short and aggressive sarcastic tones he hated now with a vengeance. Eric.

His favorite voice was predictably absent. No doubt, Angel was struggling to be brave, and revealingly silent because of it. Righteousness pumped through Gian’s blood. He licked the thin jagged wound inside his mouth. It was time.

~ * ~

Angel soared with relief when Gian emerged from the hall into the crowded room.

Face set with cold determination, he scanned the room, lingering over Eric with a repressed hostility that sent an edge of caution through her. Eric should’ve been wiser and not awakened this combative streak in Gian. Frankly, that cool Tro^ian indifference combined with his new, raging aggression made him a little frightening to be with, especially because he’d puffed up so big with muscle the past months, too. Her gentle scholar had become a very imposing character.

Eric stood by the hearth nursing his steaming cappuccino. He smirked, the ramrod straightness in his spine revealing his preparation to fight. Eric deserved credit for not being daunted by the anger glittering in Gian’s eyes.

No-nonsense Kristen walked boldly between them, but because she was only five-seven, they stared over her head. "We brought dinner from Ashod’s and I’ve just about set out the spread, Gian, join us, we’ve been waiting for you."

Without breaking eye contact with Eric, Gian gave a short nod. "Thank youu."

The stare-off between the two men was punctuated menacingly when Lyndon dismissed his appetizer plate and stood up. Even the boys quieted.

"You two could sit down, I have the pitcher of tea ready," Angel said in a voice quieter than she’d planned.

Kristen gave a depreciating frown. "Nice try, but the gentlemen obviously plan to tend business in public, right now, even though they’re supposed to be acting like role models. If only they understood that violence is so incredibly boring." She turned on her heel towards the table. "Will, please set that lead crystal pitcher of lemonade on the sideboard when you’re done filling your glass. I wouldn’t want it in harm’s way."

Lyndon grumbled. "There won’t be any trouble, will there be, Stevenson?"

Eric shrugged casually. "I don’t know, ask trouble. He’s the one that came in here with that ugly red hair on fire."

A cold smile thinned Gian’s mouth. "Youu will be civil in Angel’s home."

Eric deposited his cup on the small side table so hard coffee sloshed out and pooled in the saucer. He took an aggressive step forward. "Yooouu don’t tell me what to do, bozo, least of all here."

Being mocked made Gian madder. He stabbed a pointed finger at Eric. "Aye will tell youu, and youu will be civil in herr house."

The tick in Eric’s jaw started. "Where do you come from with that bizarre accent? Jupiter?" He gave a nasty grimace. "And note, it’s not your job or your place to run this house, pal. I’m sure Miss Wright will tell me when she’s unhappy with me."

Gian advanced one stride aggressively. "That’s Mrs. Daushur to youu!"

Eric’s face slacked in astonishment before it twisted into a snarl. "You’re delusional to think I would recognize a claim of yours."

"The facts do not change to accommodate youur ego." Gian took another step closer.

Eric snorted with disregard. "She’s only a dream yoouuu entertain."

Lyndon’s looming form stepped into the shortening path between them. "Back off, both of you."

"Angel is maye wife, a commitment recognized by the law," Gian retorted as if he hadn’t seen or heard Lyndon.

Eric crowded Gian’s personal space despite the barrier of Lyndon’s outstretched arm across Eric’s chest. "Over my dead body."

"The terms are acceptable!"

Despite the dizzying speed of her slamming heartbeat, Angel mustered some courage to at least try to prevent any violence. "No fighting, please!"

Eric turned on her with blazing, accusing eyes. "This is between him and I, Angel!"

Angel blinked back the sudden rush of tears.

Gian growled, ignoring Lyndon when he stood assertively in front of him. With a quick stride, Gian sidestepped him. "Youu will show maye wife basic respect from this moment on or Aye will force the issue!"

Eric raised one thick brow at Gian. "Allow me to express my heartfelt opinion of your claim, and your threat."

Gian ducked Eric’s fist, but not fast enough. The blow clipped the healing bruise on his mouth.

"Dad!" William shouted disapprovingly from the table.

"Damnation!" Lyndon shouted and turned, shoving Eric back.

The flash of menace in Gian’s eyes at Eric frightened Angel. She shredded the edge of another nail painfully with her teeth.

Gian dropped his shaking hand, his expression deadly cold. Blood dribbled down the side of his mouth and chin and splattered on the autumn gold of his shirt. "NEVER STRIKE MME AGAIN!" he roared so powerfully a spray of red mist launched into the air on its gust.

"This is only the beginning, pal." Eric shouldered around Lyndon. "I’ve had all the interference from you that I can take. Angel and I were almost back together again until you got in the way."

Lyndon caught him and shoved back hard again. "Enough, Stevenson!"

Holding a clean handtowel poised and ready, Angel shuffled towards Gian. "Let it go, Gian, please," she whispered.

Gian moved around Lyndon. "Angel finished with youu at 11:27 p.m. July fifteenth when shhe exchanged marriage vows with mme in front of Pastor Smythe." Gian jabbed a stiff pointed finger into his chest.

The expression Eric shot her screamed ‘betrayal’, but he rallied quickly, his expression steel-set an instant later. His spread his hands dismissively. "It’s not legal because you’re not legal. Her grave mistake was null and void the moment she opened her mouth."

Angel took exception to Eric’s casual rejection of her brand new marriage. Apparently, so did her angry Tro^ian groom.

The clotted blood sliding down Gian’s chin emphasized the tight, satisfied smile he wore. Instinctively, she knew what was coming and cringed. "What of herr personal acknowledgment..." he glanced at the twins who stood tense, watching, side by side at the edge of the dining table, "... and private displays?" he finished in a low, smug voice.

Eric flinched as if Gian had stabbed him. Angel’s heart clenched. Did Eric have to find out this way? What was wrong with Gian? He never acted like this.

"I’ll kill you for touching her," Eric snarled.

Time elongated for Angel.

Eric’s white-knuckled fist drew back in slow motion. Gian’s gaze hardened and became even more calculated. He stood there as if planning to take the blow, but Angel realized the awful truth when Eric swung. Gian jerked into motion.

"NO!" she heard herself yell in distant-sounding echo. But her flung words had no effect.

Gian smashed his broad, well-aimed fist into Eric’s face with a hard downward punch. A gut-turning snap of bone sent shivers down Angel’s spine.

Eric groaned and stumbled sideways, his hands closing over his nose. His agonized groan was choked by liquidy coughs. Blood trickled out from between his fingers. He stared down at them in disbelief. "You bastard, you broke my nose," he moaned, "I’m gonna kill you." Eric muffled another moan and hunched, his eyes glazing.

Flexing his right hand, Gian watched Eric suffer, a dangerous enjoyment plain on his face. "Youu ever hit mme again, Aye will break more than youur nose!" he spat with enraged loudness that echoed around the large room. "And never... NEVER!...abuse, bully, or talk down to Angel again."

Evil-eyed, Eric drew up for a retort, but choked on a fluid swallow. For a moment, Angel worried if he was going to retch on the blood that had to be flowing down his throat.

Accepting the towel Kristen clamped over his nose, Eric glared over the festive pink edge. "She didn’t complain about anything when she came to my house the other night. And if her and I conceived again, you can bet your legal status will be challenged in court. You won’t raise my child. That’s a promise."

Angel nearly swooned when several sets of surprised eyes darted at her and dropped lower on her as if she were pregnant and ‘showing’.

How excessively mortifying that her sons and friends find out this way. Eric was such an inconsiderate oaf!

Gian’s fingers curled white-knuckled around the cloth Angel offered. "Persist in youur outlandish claims and all will see how jealous youu are."

Fury blazed in Eric’s eyes. "Outlandish claim? I’ve never disputed my jealousy where Angel is concerned. What’s your point?"

"Any child Mrs. Daushur carries will be assumed by all as mmine."

Eric’s head bobbed as if spring-loaded. "You’ve got it all covered, don’t you? Smooth and calculated. Well, don’t rest too easy, pal. You’re not a legal citizen, remember that." He pointed a red coated finger at Angel. "I never thought you, Angel, of all people, would put yourself in a position to require a DNA analysis to determine the father of your child. If I must insist on a paternity test, so be it. Though, if it’s born with his ugly red hair, we’ll all know who fathered it."

A scalding flush of embarrassment swept through Angel from head to toe. She fought to keep straight-faced and collected. "That’s a matter polite people keep private."

Eric’s head cocked with disdain. "Whatever you say, Miss Manners. But I’m glad we may have conceived another child." He lowered the cloth from his nose as if to appear recovered and collected, but a rush of blood ran down over his lips. Sucking it down his throat on a heavy breath, Eric was racked with hard coughs.

Gian glanced at his fist and chuckled with satisfaction. "What youu like or don’t like doesn’t matter anymore. Angel Wright is maye wife, be sure youu understand all that means." His tone dripped with menace.

Heaving air-starved breaths, Eric postured aggressively. "Broken nose or not, I’ll still pound you into the ground."

"Stevenson, don’t start," Lyndon growled, his patience gone.

Angel gazed at the auburn demigod, her heartbeat fluttery from the ordeal. Gian-the-King. Eager to record Eric’s response, she glanced over at him.

Through a mutinous frown, Eric snarled, "You could be useful and get me some ICE!"

Mesmerized by the fuming dark-haired warrior glaring at her, Angel’s breath caught in her throat. Handsome Eric-the-Conqueror. Suddenly, a sense of freedom warmed deep inside her. As passionately as she loved him, she didn’t have to obey those dark angry eyes anymore…

Angel took a step deeper into the King’s territory. "You hit him first, Eric. Again! Get your own ice."

A deathly cold mask set over Eric’s face. Partially hidden by the edge of the now red cloth against his nose, a cruel smile slashed his lips. "I see. I see," he said to himself, nodding as if he’d come to some great truth.

Lyndon stepped directly between them. "I hate to tell you this, Stevenson, but you’re going to bleed to death through your nose. You should get to the clinic."

"Your compassion is touching, as always, Lyndon."

Kristen breezed over to Eric and stopped, holding out a new cloth. "Here, use this. Give me that."

Eric lifted the bloody one off and jerked it at her. But he very gingerly covered his swollen nose with the fresh towel.

Tossing it into the sink, Kristen wiped the red smears off her fingers on a moist towelette. "I’ll drive you to Memorial to get you checked out."

"Gee, thank you, dear. How about some ice?" When Kristen went to the freezer and opened it, Eric shot Angel a dark look. He shot an even darker one at Gian before settling it back on her. "Surely, Angel, you realize that he rushed you to the altar to get revenge on me. You aren’t going to let him get away with manipulating you like that, are you?"

Angel meant to deny him, but only an offended gust of air came out.

"That’s enough, no more," Lyndon boomed, his hand cutting through the air with finality. "Kristen, get him out of here."

She gave him a deadpan expression. "Come on, Eric, that cloth is soaking fast."

Eric glanced over at the boys and glared at them with meaning.

Will averted his eyes. Samuel glanced dubiously between his brother and his father.

When Gian moved discretely towards the sink to tend his wound, Angel knew why. She edged over to Gian to let the tense moment work itself out without any interference.

Samuel went to his father. "I’ll go with you, Dad."

Some of the savagery behind Eric’s eyes lessened. "Will?"

Near tears, William Wright-Stevenson refused to look at his father and stared at his finger swirling in a tiny circle on the tabletop. "Gian’s my friend. I can talk to him in a way I can’t with you. He listens to me. You had no right to hit him," he mumbled, holding his ground, obviously torn.

Eric’s exhale was a quiet enraged grumble. "Just remember that he is trying to come between your mother and me. We were real close again, and that bastard knew it," he spat and jabbed a finger towards Gian, "so he rushed her into a marriage to make sure we didn’t get back together."

Will flinched, the barb obviously burrowing true.

"For Chrissakes, Eric, you just can’t stop, can you?" Kristen complained, swinging a slender fist in front of his nose. "Stop, or I’ll hit you again."

"I’ll be goddamned if I let this character ruin an eighteen year relationship. I don’t care what shit he’s pulled. Their marriage isn’t even legal."

Lyndon grasped Eric’s shoulder and steered him to the door. "GO!"

Mortified when Sam stopped in front of her, Angel hugged him and pressed a quick kiss him on the cheek. The sixteen-year-old clone of Eric smiled his father’s smile at her. "It’s going to be okay, Mom," he assured her confidently before darting out the door.

Angel swallowed hard, almost overcome with tears for the simple nurturing gesture.

Reaching up with the dampened cloth, she wiped the blood off Gian’s chin with a shaky hand. "I should call Dr. Gerhard. You no doubt need another stitch or two."

"I suppose this isn’t the best time for congratulations, but I hope you two are happy together," Lyndon said, giving them a critical once over as a pair as if he was sure he didn’t like the idea.

Gian returned Lyndon’s hard stare. "Angel will be very happy."

Lyndon stared at Gian as if he was a stranger. "Will, your mother can handle this medical matter. We need to go back to the compound. There are still a few items of business to handle before closing time."

Coming to Lyndon’s side, Will gave Angel a stressed out look. "Is it true, Mom? Did you marry him the other night?"

Angel sighed. "Yes." For several long agonizing minutes, he simply gazed at her.

Will gave Gian a slight smile. "I won’t lie, Mom, I wanted you and Dad to get married again, but you’re always number one on Gian’s mind," he told her matter-of-factly.

Angel’s eyes misted at the nurturing gesture from her other son. "Thank you."

Will glanced at Gian. "He shouldn’t have hit you," he said sadly, a shadow of confusion and grief over his youthful face.

Gian gave a graceful nod.

Lyndon herded Will out the door.

Stomach knotted, Angel listened to them talking down the walk. Two car doors clapped shut and the engine roared to life. After clearing the driveway circle, the sound grew more distant until it faded away. Lyndon’s look at Gian was…horrible. Like he knew about Gian. No way. He couldn’t.

Angel went to the freezer and pulled out two ice cubes. She wrapped them neatly in a moist handtowel. "Could Lyndon know about you, Gian?"

He replaced the bloody towel with the new ice pack she offered him. "Not know."

She sensed volumes in his fretful tone. "There’s nothing linking you to the mess at the quarry. I’m just not going to worry about it." Staring at the bright red blood soaked into the hand cloth, she sighed deeply. "I’m surprised by your violence."

"Hhe deserved it."

At the quiet, righteous tone, Angel eyed him. "You let Eric corrupt you."

There was no emotion in Gian’s stare. "Have the right to defend mayeself and maye family from threat and violence. Human law," he slurred through a fat lip. "Youu insisted Aye fit in."

Angel mourned the loss of that adorable innocence with which he’d arrived. "On the other hand, Will has really matured the past months working so closely with you. You’ve guided him over a potentially destructive time in his life. He’s stopped vegetating behind his video games to work hard with the business. What you’ve done for him is something Eric couldn’t, the first thing ever Eric couldn’t do because of his impatience and arrogance."

Gian dabbed his swollen skin with the cold pack very carefully. "Do not be afraid to say what else came to mind, Angel."

Angel hiked herself up on the countertop. Leaning against the cupboard, she gave a great sigh. "And Eric is jealous. Has been for months. Will has done his best not to mention you around Eric, but even Eric could see who Will is emulating with his new controlled, responsible behavior."

"Eric is selfish, and foolish. William has always wanted to claim the Wright heritage and act as owner in youur stead. Aye did not influence youur son to choose hiss goal. Hhe came to mme."

"He did? Angel murmured happily. Will’s lack of career direction all this time had been because she’d closed down the stables, and his dream? Angel punched out the Doctor’s number on the phone keypad. "God, that was all so embarrassing, for me at least. Did you see everyone’s expressions when the subject of a DNA test for paternity was shouted about?"

Gian winced and lifted the cloth to reposition it. "Angel?"

She held down the receiver button. "It’s busy. What?"

He eyed her forlornly. "Mouth hurts worse the second time."

"I know. That’s why he did it. Smack an already swelled and bruised wound and the pain is doubled."

Gian mumbled unpleasantly and set down his icepack. "Aye am sorry for youur discomfort." He made short work of his blood-spattered shirt and tossed it in the empty sink. Closing the drain, he doused the garment with cold water, filling the basin a few inches to let it soak. Then, beautifully bare-chested, Gian went to the hearth and sank into the easy chair, the icepack back in place over his fat, swelled lip. His misery was plain.

Angel pushed the doctor’s phone number again. Doc did pick up his phone this time. "Gian needs care, in the same place as last time," was all she said. Doc offered an arrival time, she hung up. A flash memory of the fight lit up in her brain like a big screen movie. Angel turned the disconnected phone around in her trembly hands, one accusation stuck in her mind like a permanent wedge.

"You did rush me to the Pastor, Gian. Eric was wrong, wasn’t he?"

Gian scowled at her.

Flustered, Angel dropped her gaze. "You didn’t deny it."

On his feet in a second, Gian brooded down at her in disbelief. "Aye’ve ignored repeated insults to maye character, but Aye did not expect it from youu!"

Angel fought not to falter. His honor was all-important to him; she’d just wounded him deeply. "We never discussed marriage. Ever. Next thing I know, I’m standing in front of the Pastor at midnight, at a ceremony already planned without my ever being informed."

Gian’s brows knit. "Youu did not object. In fact, youu smiled up at mme with pleasured surprise. Or was that just the mood youu were in at the moment?"

"Hey, I have the right to ask reasonable questions, or is that something I won’t be allowed to do with you, either?"

"Asking mme if Aye married youu to exact revenge on Eric is not a reasonable question!" he shouted, then winced, favoring his mouth.

"Why did you rush it then?" she retorted just as loudly.

The aggression in his eyes went alien superior. "To protect youu from youurself."

The air punched out of her chest in a gust. Her husband didn’t really think that about her, did he? God no. "Well, thanks for rubbing it in, Daddy."

For a moment, his expression reflected confusion. He dismissed the moment and went to the sink, filling a glass full of cold water from the tap.

"I thought you married me because you loved me! But maybe that is just a dream of mine and not a reality that you, in your Tro^ian coldness, can provide. Since you’re so bad at lying, go ahead dismiss my fears about your intentions and tell me you love me."

Gian downed his drink and carefully set the glass on the countertop. He stood over her, staring down with cool auburn eyes. "Aye love youu."

Though he said it rather convincingly, Angel was sure he didn’t mean it. He mimicked the phrase that tumbled over her lips when they made love. He was Tro^ian. Devoid of sentimental heart-attachments, calculated, a cool scholar devoted to study if he loved anything at all. Tears splashed down her cheeks. "You do not." Angel slid off the counter and pushed past him. "You married me to protect me from my foolish behavior? How nice to know that you think of me that way. How can you love a foolish creature?"

Gian released a barely audible moan of frustration. "Youu demand Aye tell youu how Aye feel, then deny what Aye say."

"You don’t love anything. Everyone around you has a significant, important placement, but you don’t love anyone, least of all me. Maybe you did marry me out of a misplaced sense of responsibility and even a minor bit of learned affection, but this is no major love affair, and you know it!"

Gian’s expression grew very dark. His brows wrinkled menacingly. "Youu are maye wife, by law, by intimate consummation. Many times," he threw in as a Tro^ian barb, "in youur overwrought, immature state, do youu now rescind youur vows?"

Angel gaped. "You think I’m immature, too? How nice! How very damned nice! I can’t believe my ears. Why did you rush the wedding then, if your bride was so disgustingly immature?"

Gian’s aggressive posture deflated. In his lofty Tro^ian bearing, arguing was beneath him. "Youur other wonderful qualities far make up for one irritating flaw, Angel," he said tiredly and sat on the hearthstones, dabbing his swollen mouth with the dripping handtowel.

"Gee, that’s comforting, thanks for the praise." She wiped at the itchy tears meandering down her cheeks.

"Aye love youu. Aye do. In addition, if there is a child, youu will be spared gossip. All will consider Eric merely jealous. Hhe will not abuse youu in any hiss many despicable forms," Gian spat the last with venom.

Gian’s meaning made Angel squirm. Had Eric…raped her that night of the toss? Gian believed so. "I want overpowering love and romance between us. Something you can never give me. Even in bed it’s painfully evident. You agreed to learn human techniques, yet you’ve managed to avoid them all by adapting your sensation-explosive Tro^ian style to control me and my pleasure. I’ve tried to teach you to thrust, yet you work me to a point where all you need apply is a bare minimum, four or five at the most, to push me over the edge. I know, I’ve counted. You’re usual number is three. Three gentle, barely notable thrusts and I’m gone. That’s not what I had in mind. You’re determined to ‘adore’ me Tro^ian style, but I need more from you. I am not a Tro^ian woman!"

Gian looked at her as if she’d slapped him. "That is painfully evident."

A frustrated screech roared up Angel’s throat. "I’ll tell you what, you stuffy Tro^ian snob. You won’t have to bother trying new human techniques in bed. I won’t trouble you that way anymore. I’ll be loyal, devoted, and composed at all times. The perfect Tro^ian wife. I hope you’ll be deliriously happy in your new pairbond. Doc Gerhard will be here shortly, dearest, I’m sure you can direct him to your mouth."

Raising her nose, Angel trounced out of the kitchen. When she reached her room, she slammed the door shut and locked it. She scurried to lock her bathroom door to prevent her cold Tro^ian groom from entering and bothering her. Angel flung herself on the bed and began crying in earnest.

Was she stupid?

No, just immature, just as he claimed, Angel mourned into her damp pillow.

Only three or four frustrating thrusts or not, his caresses lit her body on fire with pleasure she never dreamed possible. When he touched her she felt loved and cherished. So why had she just insulted him so hideously and then kicked him out of her bed, his bed, any chair or lounge he might choose? She knew his reticence was really because the motion caused him a distressing overload of sensation. He needed time to adjust to a different type of pleasure.

To add to her meanness, she’d insulted him hideously. First, his honor, and then his sexual performance. Angel groaned, deeply pained by her behavior.

She was as bad as Malana. No, worse. At least Malana freed him by divorce. Angel couldn’t bear to let Gian go, now or ever. Even though he was out there bleeding while he waited for Doc. Gerhard, she had no courage to face him and apologize. What if he’d decided he couldn’t stay married to her? She couldn’t bear to hear him say such a thing.

Paralyzed by her conflicted feelings, Angel curled up. Now that she’d carved a huge rift between them, how could she ever fix it?

The next morning, Angel faced a grim task. Walking through the glass door Kristen held open, she stepped into the town police station, feigning every bit of composure she showed.

Angel headed down the hall that smelled like a combination of paper and stale food odors and stopped at the front desk.

"Miss Wright. Let me guess who you’re here for, your manager," said the mature officer, Dan Jansen, with a wry smile.

Miss Wright. Angel flushed uncomfortably. Her fingers kneaded the thin leather handbag clutched in her hands. "Obviously you’ve not been told. He’s the stable manager, yes, but I’d like to take my husband home now."

Officer Jansen assessed her for a moment. "When did you marry Mr. Daushur, Miss... Ma’am?"

"Hoping to avoid trouble from Eric, he and I exchanged vows privately four days ago, July fifteenth. Now, on the matter at hand, against my complaints, you’ve kept him prisoner in a cell, all night. I suggest you make him wait no longer."

Thoughtful, the officer jiggled the keys in his pocket. "Mr. Stevenson didn’t mention the new marriage."

Angel raised one brow. "He certainly knew about it. When he found out, he attacked Gian."

Officer Jansen nodded as if he wasn’t sure what to believe. "Come with me, Miss, Ma’am." Angel followed after him down another hall. She stopped at the steel bar door. As he sorted through his key ring, she peeked around the doorjamb.

Poor Gian. First he’d been punched, then she lost her mind at him. Shortly after that, he was arrested right after Doc finished giving him stitches. Driven to this station in handcuffs, Gian escorted into a cold cell where he spent the night. Stiffly reclined against the wall, he had his arms crossed over his wide chest; he stared at the floor, a stormy set to his face.

Funny, she’d expected to see discomfort and concealed fear because he was an alien in captivity. Instead, he was fuming, as usual lately. How unlike the Gian she’d once known, before Eric taught him violence.

"I’ll release him," Officer Jansen murmured as if preoccupied.

Angel gave Kristen a helpless look. "Eric’s gone too far. Having Gian arrested on battery charges. Does he really think he’s going to get away with this?"

"You can’t honestly be surprised, Angel."

"Why? Is it unreasonable to expect some peace?"

Kristen laughed. "It is from Eric. He’s always been this way, Angel. Do you really think he can change his basic nature?"

Angel scowled.

Gian entered the room following behind Dan. Officer Jansen went to his desk and shuffled through papers piled in an open file, seemingly distracted. Gian stopped in front of her, only a little of the darkness in his expression softening.

Angel’s heart fluttered, but she remained cautious. The last words she’d spoken to him yesterday had been insults to his character and clearly, he was still plenty frosty over it. "You look okay. I see they provided ice for you, much of the swelling has gone down. Were you able to rest?"

Officer Jansen glanced at them while he ordered and signed several of the pages. "This violence charge isn’t going to look good on his application for citizenship."

"What? Last I knew, a man was entitled to defend himself. Eric threw the first punch and Gian showed great restraint in not returning the gesture. Or is he supposed to be a punching bag for any who attack him until his application is approved, so it won’t look bad?"

"Mr. Stevenson threw the first punch?"

"There were four other witnesses who will attest to the same fact. I told that to the arresting officer last night, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I’d like to know on what date the Wright integrity came under suspicion that my word would be ignored?"

Officer Jansen’s mouth worked a moment before words came out. "Your reputation is sterling in this town, Miss... Ma’am. But Mr. Stevenson is a respected member of this town as well."

"Perhaps, but the Wright reputation was firmly established centuries before the Stevenson’s stopped their frequent drunken barroom brawls just a short fifteen years ago. And the fist fights haven’t stopped yet, as you can see."

"Yes, Ma’am, I see your point."

"But that changes nothing, right? Mr. Daushur can expect to be victimized by Mr. Stevenson because Eric’s reputation has changed?"

"A fight is seen through many perspectives, Miss... Ma’am."

"Try Mrs. Daushur. It’s a good name. A respectable one. Seventeen years ago, I changed the town’s opinion of Eric by accepting his marriage proposal. Some of the community’s ‘best’ people warned me it was a mistake. That I might stain the Wright name with the infusion of such…trash. Yet, many daughters of those very same people were seen pursuing Mr. Stevenson not long after our divorce, with their blessing. His female fan club has only grown since then. If my endorsement made the townsfolk realize that Eric is a decent person, doesn’t Mr. Daushur deserves the same benefit of the doubt, providing my reputation as an honest business owner and private citizen hasn’t suffered some way that I don’t know about."

"Your status has not changed, please believe that." Officer Jansen gave Gian a begrudging once-over. "He still engaged in a fist fight, Miss...Mrs. Daushur."

Angel lifted her chin to take advantage of his slacking confidence. "I don’t suppose Eric mentioned that he attacked Mr. Daushur on July twelfth as well. Just after the hay toss, Eric punched him in the face, causing the first wound, that required the stitches Doc had to redo yesterday, mind you. Mr. Daushur neither retaliated afterwards, nor pressed charges that time. I feel that shows genuine poise and grace. The kind we hope to have in our citizens."

Officer Jansen’s brows knit. "Mr. Daushur, did Eric Stevenson attack you on July twelfth?

"Yes," answered Gian in a kingly tone.

"And again yesterday? He threw the first punch?"

"Yes."

Scratching his head, the police officer’s reserve seemed to crumble. "Do you wish to press charges of your own, Mr. Daushur?"

"No." Gian seemed to choke on the word. "Not because Aye don’t want to. Aye must consider the twins. Thhey’ve been put through enough."

The officer’s shoulders drooped ever so subtly. "I suppose so. William seemed rather upset when he visited earlier this morning."

"Will was here?" Angel glanced at Dan and Gian.

Dan spoke first. "Brought him juice and some kind of tasty-looking pastry doo-dad from the "Earth’s Kitchen". Here, these are release papers you need to sign, Mrs. Daushur."

"Pastry doo-dad?" Angel gave Gian a charming smile.

He broke their eye contact and stared out the window. "Tamara created a fruited, ‘healthfood’ pastry. The past weeks, before the workday started, hhe and Aye drove here together in the early mornings to buy some."

Officer Jansen smiled pleasantly, but Angel grew moody. Ole school-chum, and recently divorced, Tamara Bochek was baking sweet snacks special for Gian, and had been for the ‘past weeks’? She rallied her composure. With an aggressive hand, she drove the pen into the paper as she wrote her name after the black X’s on four sheets. Gian drew women’s affection with appalling consistency like a girl-magnet. Being his one and only was unsettling at times.

Angel put the pen down and kneaded her stiff fingers over the leather of her purse again. "Is this the end of it? Or shall I warn Gian’s lawyer to remain on duty?"

"If Mr. Stevenson drops the charges today, it’ll be over."

"Drops the charges? He drew blood first! Twice! Have you heard nothing I’ve said? Is he still receiving preferential treatment?"

"Well, no." Dan stared at the release forms in his hand as if considering the case from a new perspective finally. "Are you telling me that our real cause here is Mr. Stevenson’s jealousy over your relationship with Mr. Daushur?"

As if rehearsed, Angel, Gian and Kristen all responded at the same moment. "Yes!"

Officer Jansen considered them all very intently. "That he filed false charges?"

In the silence, Angel sighed quietly. "Yes, Eric filed false charges just to cause trouble. Yes, he did."

The officer’s face pinched. "Do you wish to press charges on that accusation, Mr. Daushur?"

A cold smile trifled with Gian’s bruised mouth. He raked one hand cruelly through his tousled hair. The mean mood faded. Resignation moved in. "No."

Angel raised her brows at the officer. "Will you record that polite refusal, made only for the sake of my boys, as a positive observation of my husband’s personal good will towards other town citizens?"

"Yes, Ma’am, I suppose I should."

Angel felt business was finally handled. Though, she decided to wait to enjoy the relief until they were all safely out on the sidewalk. "May we go now?"

"Yes, certainly."

Angel shot Gian a glance. "I couldn’t come here before eight, and couldn’t sleep either, so I kept busy and cooked a huge breakfast. It’s waiting, at home. I’m sure you’re hungry."

Gian murmured in appreciation for the offer, but was still cool. When he seemed ready to speak finally, Officer Jansen’s voice intruded.

"I require all the important documents concerning you and Mr. Daushur be kept in his file here. So please forward a copy of the blood test results and marriage certificate to me, I’d appreciate it."

"Blood test?" Angel faced the officer.

"The one obtained before the marriage ceremony?"

"I thought that was some old fashioned premise."

Dan nodded. "It’s still a law, however. Do I understand that one wasn’t taken?"

Angel swallowed hard. "No."

"Have one done without delay. Please, forward the proof to me."

Angel couldn’t look at Gian. She’d see her stress reflected in his eyes and she couldn’t handle it. "Can his physician perform the test?"

"Any legal physician."

Exactly what type would Doc. Gerhard find Gian’s alien blood to be? "We’ll comply. Forgive me for not realizing it was required," Angel said as if nothing was wrong.

"No problem."

"Good, we’ve had enough of those the past week." Angel smiled blandly, but her knees were shaking so hard she was afraid they’d give out.

Kristen drove them home in Angel’s Escolade. Angel stared out the window at forests of tree trunks and green lawns flying by her. Still absorbed in wonderment for her tiger act, rescuing her extraterrestrial mate from the cold-steel arms of the law, she said, "I still don’t know where I found the guts not to break into tears, especially about the blood test."

Kristen glanced into the rear view mirror. "You got Gian out of jail this morning on bullshit assault and battery charges. What’s the big deal?"

Angel realized she was caught fretting outloud about Gian’s alien status. Smart move. "Oh, well. Nothing, I guess."

When Kristen resumed driving, Angel finally let herself breathe. She sneaked a peek at Gian to see how annoyed he was with her slip. He offered a chilly glance, but his whole face seemed upturned with the suggestion of a smile.

Angel sighed and let him be. When the time was right, she would apologize profusely and win him back. At least she hoped. With the blood test problem looming, she wondered why all she could think about was a vision of last night, her stupidly telling him: I won’t be troubling you for sex anymore.

Of all the ridiculous things to say to him, especially when he was such a sensual, incredible lover. It was another trophy for stupidity to put in the crowded menagerie of Angel’s brainless accomplishments.

When she crossed the threshold, Angel breathed deeply of the smells of breakfast in her kitchen and sighed with relief. "Oh, thank god, that’s over," she murmured. Staring at the coffeepot, Angel deliberated. It was early for coffee, but it would taste so good. After her great performance at the police station, didn’t she deserve some?

"Kris, you’d like coffee, wouldn’t you?"

"I would. I have to eat and run, though. Appointment in the office at ten. The buyer for the Virginia boutique."

"Hiring you five years ago as the CEO of my company was the smartest move I ever made. I should make you a partner. You deserve it."

Kristen gave her owl eyes. "I wouldn’t refuse, it would be an honor should you consider it seriously. To my credit, my line of lingerie and swimsuits has added a handsome twenty percent in sales this summer. All we need is a line of shoes and we’d have every woman’s needs in the country covered in one catalog. Add in the jewelry made from the stunning gems coming from Gian’s supervision of the mines, and we’d be one big, solid company. It would generate even more business, you know, if we included it all in one catalog. One stop shopping. The web site would clinch success."

"It does sound good. We’ll have to talk more about it later. Just imagine, a catalog. Already I want to flip through it."

Filling the glass carafe with cold tap water, Angel discreetly eyed Gian. He lifted each lid on the large warmer tray and spooned a loaded serving of every entrée she’d prepared. When he put his back to her, she enjoyed his nice butt. Tight, muscular. His unique auburn hair was starting to V down between his wide shoulders and still not a peep from him about cutting it even though Tro^ian fashion was a bob just before it touched the shoulders. As he shifted sideways a bit more, Angel’s eyes were drawn to the blackened bruise on his mouth.

Then there was that ugly thing he bore with grace.

Gian was so...fascinating, and she’d been so foolish.

"Gian?"

He raised his brows in question.

"I trust you, despite the accusation I flung."

The frost she’d hoped would melt still lingered. "Youu considered hiss charge."

Angel’s heart flip-flopped. He was still pretty mad. "I do trust you. Even though you were acting very strangely that night."

Gian smiled, but it was not a kind one. "Listen to youurself. Each time youu claim to trust, youu follow it with a justification why youu should not."

Angel dashed the water into the coffee maker. "Well, you were. You never rush anywhere, ever."

Routing a piece of bacon into his mouth, Gian eyed her. "Youur accusation was unfair." He offered his back as he went to the table and sat down.

What fun were three or four wimpy thrusts anyway? They always left her aching for more despite her explosive peaks of pleasure.

"I apologize and you ungraciously refuse it." Aggressively dropping the scoopfuls of chicory coffee into the drip filter, Angel gave him the evil eye. "I thought an apology would mend the rift between us. I see I was sorely mistaken."

Gian’s fork stalled over his scrambled eggs. "The ‘rift’ requires more than one apology to mend. Youur unjustified jab to maye character was only one slight flung on angry words, Angel."

She stared at the coffee dripping into the pot, and blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. "So I am supposed to accept all the blame, I see? Your uncharacteristic behavior is supposed to go without explanation?"

"Aye did not say that."

"Seems like it to me."

Gian grumbled and set down his fork. He took a leisurely drink of his water. "Maye uncharacteristic behavior has an explanation, but not the rude one youu suspect."

"Well, then please enlighten me."

"Aye told youu maye intention was to protect youu."

"Yes, I know, from myself, isn’t that what you said?"

"That’s what Aye said," Gian’s voice was ambivalent. "Aye don’t want to fight with youu again, Angel."

The coffeemaker gurgled noisily on the last bits of water. Angel flicked her eyes to the dark brown liquid. "Kristen, would you like coffee now?"

Kristen stood up from her place at the table, her expression sour. "No, I’ve lost my appetite, thank you. Do you mean that you’ve actually considered Eric’s accusation over the intentions of the man you just married? Am I catching the drift of this conversation correctly?"

Angel parked her hand on her hip. Now two people were chastising her! "I don’t believe that’s what’s going on."

Kristen scoffed. "Eric will say anything to come between you two, twist any action to support his claim, and you fell for it?"

"He was in a big rush to complete the entire custom that night. I’ve never known Gian to rush anything. Mr. Calm and Orderly."

"Then you married a man whom you do not trust?" Kristen’s arms folded over her chest.

"I trust him!"

Gian scoffed from his place, then gave his food intense focus.

Angel almost launched the napkin basket near her arm at him. "Well, isn’t this pretty. The two of you, wounded and wronged. And me, the culprit..."

"You are the culprit. Nothing ever makes you happy!" Kristen almost shouted. "You never seem content unless you’re UNHAPPY. I just don’t get you."

Angel’s heart hammered so hard she could hear the beat in her head. "I don’t want to be unhappy!"

"But you work so hard at it, Angel. You’re either dedicated to unhappiness or you’re really inept at handling your own life. Which is it?"

Well, gee, out of two really lousy choices, which was she to choose? "What’s wrong with you?"

Kristen laughed caustically and went after her purse and laptop case. "You have two great men falling all over you, willing to do whatever it takes to be with you. You dump one of them flat after a long, stormy relationship that continued just as heatedly after the divorce, and accuse the other, for whom you dumped husband number one, of terrible intent and then wonder why he’s insulted."

Gaze dropping to the floor, Angel struggled to understand Kristen. Kristen never talked down to her this way. Never. Not in eighteen years of close friendship.

"Why do you feel the need to insult me?"

"Don’t like how it feels?" Kristen hiked the black strap of the case over her shoulder. "I’ve never understood you as long as I’ve known you. When we were younger, I figured you did the messed up things you did because you had poor-little-rich-girl syndrome. I figured you’d grow out of it. But as the years have dragged on, I’ve come to realize that what you really are, is just all messed up." Kristen nodded with surety, then hushed her voice. "You’ve been married only three days, and you’ve already picked fight number two with your brand sparkling new husband? I feel sorry for him to be stuck with you for the rest of his life."

Kristen faced Gian. "My condolences on your new marriage, Gian. Have a nice day." She let the backdoor fly behind her.

Angel stared at it for a moment, so closed and final. Embarrassment, guilt and hot humiliation swirled inside her.

She couldn’t shut out the horrible memory of Kristen’s patronizing expressions. Her eyes stung and glazed over with tears. She held her breath to stave off the crying sounds that wanted to come out. Had she just lost her best friend?

And there was still more to come.

When she turned around, Gian would be there. Hiding his satisfaction that her close friend had just verified all his negative appraisals of her.

Angel wanted to go hide some place dark and gloomy. She darted her eyes far to the side as if to see behind her. How could she get by Gian without him seeing her crying?

Settling for scratching a fake itch on her forehead, Angel tipped her head down to use her hair as a shield, too. Sidestepping, she tried for the hall.

Just reaching the archway, Angel heard Gian stir with purpose. A flush of surprise stole her attempt at pretense and her arm dropped. Before she could stop herself, she looked right at him.

Gian feigned empathy, his face stripped of the previous ice. "Angel," he encouraged her falsely. Even his arm raised as if to offer a compassionate touch.

Angel skittered back and hit the wall behind her. "Leave me alone!" she shouted, mesmerized by the beauty of the cold alien in front of her. Pain welled up her throat like a big boulder and lodged there. Unwilling to show him her vulnerable side, she used one of his gestures and stabbed a pointed finger at him. "Just leave me alone!"

Gian dropped his napkin on the tabletop and came toward her anyway, that sickening, sugary sweet expression deepening.

She surged with fear that he’d trap her here. To watch her mourn after having been humbled so completely. Grabbing the nearest item on the phone desk, Angel flung the vase of roses at him. "I don’t want to talk to you!"

Angel hurried down the hall. Instead of going straight to her room or right down the next hall toward Gian’s room and the library, Angel veered left, taking a very old escape route. At the end of that short, dimly lit corridor was the study door on the left. Angel pushed aside the wall bookshelf in front of her and slipped behind the secret panel. Sliding the blind closed, she hurried up the narrow staircase.

Fifteen stairs up, she reached the second floor. But the sewing and craft room wasn’t her goal, either. Angel continued up the next set of secret stairs to the third floor. Stepping out from behind the ivy planter, she hurried softly through the ‘observatory’ and into the half of the attic that was fantasyland for kids. The spacious room was divided into four sections by age groups and stocked with the appropriate toys and entertainments, centuries of collections.

Angel’s goal was in the corner of the adolescent section--her rightful place. Throwing herself at the small antique door, she burst through it. From years of practice, she shut and locked it behind her without a sound, even in the pitch dark.

Diving into a neat pile of featherbeds and quilts, Angel buried her head under her arm and curled up into a ball. Out of breath and weeping silently, she struggled to calm down.

No one would ever find her here. This secret place had hidden her throughout her childhood and young adulthood. Filled with linens, blankets and sleeping equipment, this room had often been ransacked on holidays by children who wanted to leave the adults behind downstairs to their boring ‘talking’. After a day of minimally supervised play and a giant mess, they’d often drag out the bedding gear and lay over the couches and daybeds to watch a movie from the collection.

Rolling onto her back, Angel wiped the stinging tears off her face. Staring into the darkness, she listened keenly to the silence.

Kristen was right. She was ‘messed up’.

She was born that way. Afraid of everyone and everything. A big ball of fear.

Angel had hoped to outgrow her runaway anxieties and unreasonable fears. Fervently she wished there was a clinical name for her condition so she could get help and medication for it. But here she was, at thirty-five, still afraid of everything. Still messing up.

The rock in her throat finally dislodged and a loud sob cracked the silence around her. And worst of all, everyone knew. Everyone watched her mess up, and expected her to. Especially her super smart, alien husband. Angel felt like the stupid human he thought she was.

God, it was embarrassing to be her.

Angel’s already shaky sense of worth crumbled around her and soaked into the blankets beneath her back. Quickly, her crying and tears stopped, but the hole that had wedged her heart open to bleed widened further. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there in silence before sneaking downstairs to her room.

~ * ~

Broken inside, Angel spent a great deal of time the next days thinking about herself and her life. How she lived it. How she should have lived it. She was so occupied with her self-evaluation that her family seemed to function around her, without demanding much of her. She performed her motherly duties, though the boys seemed to be spending a lot of time with Eric, Gian or Lyndon. But then, young men needed role models. So she tended her work and chores; threw herself into drawing new designs; answered the few questions asked of her.

She even hosted a luncheon for the manager and his assistants so they could talk about new plans at the Stables in private. She was the perfect Tro^ian wife, polite, composed, supportive of her husband’s work. Never pressing, never demanding, locked in her own little space and barely acknowledging the world around her so she could work and think.

It wasn’t such a bad state, thinking over one’s life and business was important. Gian enjoyed this sterile existence; she could see why. At least when one was shut off to those around them, the doses of pain were decreased greatly.

Angel saved her crying for alone times, though they were increasingly harder to obtain unless she hid on purpose. No matter what she was doing, or where, Gian would manage to choose the same room. He’d seem mildly surprised to see her, then he’d settle down to tend his work, by himself, silent. Angel tolerated his presence easily enough because he never tried to approach her or talk to her. But occasionally, she’d start tearing and had to hide it when he was nearby. Or was it because he was nearby?

Did he relish his satisfaction knowing she understood now? That she was indeed the culprit and everyone around her the unfortunate victims of her stupidity?

Angel wasn’t prodded from her numb state until she woke up one morning very nauseated. Swallowing the excess moisture in her mouth over and over, she refused to run to the bathroom to retch. Instead, she covered her head with the sheet and willed herself back to sleep. Relief eluded her, save a short catnap. Though she was no longer fighting the heave in her stomach, it roiled unpleasantly.

Dragging herself out of bed, Angel plodded to the bathroom and stopped at the countertop. Staring at the tired woman in the mirror, she reached for the little date book shoved between her makeup tray and tissues on the wall shelf. Wasn’t she due for a period soon?

Once she had it in hand, a shaky, trembly feeling started in her arm and traveled upwards. Cold sweat broke out on her temples and her upper lip. Her knees grew wobbly. She slid down on the cool wood floor as if she had no bones in her body. Angel hung her head and weathered the loud buzzing in her brain. Goodness, what was happening to her?

When the fog blurring her vision lessened, Angel opened her book with fumbling fingers. She couldn’t make out the numbers at first.

August twelfth already?

An icy flush of adrenaline jump-started her to life again, panic clearing her vision. One whole month of her self indulgent moping had gone by?

Staring at the thirty-one little boxes for the month of August, Angel swallowed hard. Her last cycle had been in the end of May. Had the one expected in the beginning of July happened? She’d not paid attention since she wasn’t intimate with Eric anymore. Since winter.

Remembering wasn’t important, though. The suggestion of sickness in her belly the past days was rivaled only by the increasing tenderness in her breasts.

Oh, god, no! Not another spectacular failure, please.

A helpless sob racked her. The book slipped from her fingers and disappeared in the folds of her long thin nightgown somewhere. Tears splashed down her cheeks in hot rivers. Her shoulders began to shake as she cried.

Oh, god, no.

From her stupor, Angel was only vaguely aware of melting further into a boneless puddle on the bathroom floor. Cheek pressed against the smooth polished wood, she stared at the room from this low level. In a flash of twisted humor, she imagined this was the view a tiny baby would have.

A baby. Eric’s baby. How had she let this nightmare happen?

Trying to ignore the drunken spin in her head, Angel closed her tired eyes.

No, there was only one option, one horrible option. Angel couldn’t bear Eric a child while she was married to Mr. Right.

But how could she ever end a life? Indecision tortured her.

Oh, God, please let this be a wicked flu, Angel prayed to herself while her head stopped spinning and a buzz in the background began.

A vibration on the floor registered under her cheek and the sound roared in her ears like violent waves at the beach. Heavy fall... vibration... silence... heavy fall... vibration... silence... heavy fall... vibration…. The sounds were spaced unevenly and familiar...

Maybe, if fate was kind, she could fade away into blackness that beckoned her now and never wake up. Then she wouldn’t have to face anyone ever again.

The rhythm of quiet footfalls vibrated louder and louder in her head. Suddenly they stopped somewhere nearby.

"Angel!" the hushed and echoed male voice sounded urgent as it rolled around inside her head.

A wave of luscious scent and heat gusted in her face. Ah, god, he was heavenly. Even clinging to consciousness, Angel felt safe.

Cradled in strong warm arms, Angel’s head lolled back and she let the blackness come.

"Angel!"

Her eyes flew open. "What?" she said with alarm.

"Beautiful Angel," Gian’s warm breath gusted on her stingy cheeks. "Are youu all right?"

"I’m...uh...uh..." Ugh, it was too hard to think right now. Angel closed her eyes and burrowed against his shoulder. The sensation of being lifted off the floor snapped them open again.

"Do youu need a doctor?" He lay her on a soft featherbed and pulled the thin cover over her.

Angel’s arms curled instinctively over her chest. "Don’t touch my breasts."

He dropped the blanket as if it burned him. "Aye was not. Only want to warm youu. Youu are cold." Very slowly, he grasped onto the edge of it again.

Angel nodded in agreement. "I know."

His warm palm swept along her forehead. He leaned until his wonderful alien face was inches from hers. "What can Aye do for youu?"

"Don’t touch them, they hurt."

Gian gave a small nod. "Youur breasts hurt?"

"Yes. And I think I’m hungry," she said, giving a small sleepy yawn.

"Why were youu on the floor, Angel?"

"I felt weak. Maybe I’ve not eaten too well lately."

"No, youu have been eating all Aye have...that’s been put out for youu."

Angel caught his mistake, and correction. The constant coincidences of tasty plates stationed wherever she’d ended up in the house made sense finally. She supposed she’d always known he provided them, she’d just denied accepting his care.

"Aye can get youu crackers, or make toast, would youu like that?"

Neither dry entree offered tempted her, but there was only one way to deal with morning sickness. "I suppose one or the other is best." Angel licked her lips. "It’s been hard getting up in the mornings lately."

Gian gave another self-assured expression. "Aye know."

For the first time in a month, Angel stared deep into her husband’s copper eyes. A sense of knowing swept over her as well. She sat bolt upright, clutching the rose pattern sheet. "You know! I don’t even have to tell you. In your scholarly way, you probably researched the subject the second you knew I’d...that I’d been with...YOU KNOW, DON’T YOU?"

He masked a pleased smile. "Aye’ve been watching youu closely."

And he was still happy? "You can accept this?"

"This is a blessing."

She gaped at him. "Blessing? BLESSING? Eric’s child is a blessing?" Her head shook at the idea. "He’ll make it the worst ordeal we’ve ever been through, worse than anything stupid I’ve ever done! Are you insane?"

Gian’s expression darkened. He dared to sit next to her on the edge of the bed. "Hhe has made trouble since the day Aye first arrived. None of it lasts. Hhe has no real power. Like a stormy earthen wind, thhey always pass."

Angel’s mind whirled. "Eric’s baby? You want to hold Eric’s baby?"

"William and Samuel are hiss babies, too. And Aye have deeply enjoyed being with them."

Nine months of pregnancy flashed through her mind. How could she ever bear the time, getting rounder and fatter without going insane? "I can’t do it, I can’t go through with this. I just can’t."

Gian’s expression twisted. He stood and backed a half step as if she stunk.

Angel’s shoulders slumped. She drew her fistful of the cover to her sore chest. "Oh my god," she mumbled in defeat. Get an abortion now? With that horrified Tro^ian attitude staring her down? Yeah, right. Gian would never forgive her. He’d rewrite all his personal observations about humans to reflect how barbaric she was to have a sacred life ripped out of her womb because it didn’t please her to have it. Everything intimate and sweet between them would be plundered forever.

But how was she supposed to live with her only remaining lousy choice? How?

Angel fell back into the pillows and stared up at the ceiling. "You would relish the experience, wouldn’t you?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He returned to her side, one knee bending to the floor. "Ushuatan...God...gives this divine blessing. A child! Angel, how can a child, youur child, be anything else?"

Angel laughed humorlessly. "Because it’s his. If it were yours, I would be pleased."

Gian grumbled. "Aye am pleased not to be in a position to compromise youur health, Angel. Dr. Gerhard tailored and approved a blood test stating that Aye was free of disease and had type AB. But hhe knows now that Aye am not normal."

"That crabby look of his is nothing new to me. He and his wife are one of those couples who seem happiest when they bicker. Besides, Doc will keep any suspicions to himself. He’s always judged a man by his reputation, and yours is sterling in his eyes. I wouldn’t worry."

Gian sighed thoughtfully. "Perhaps."

"Knowing its parentage, you still want it?"

"Aye approve of maye wife; any child shhe carries is a blessing."

"It will probably be born looking just like him, as the boys do. Everyone will know it’s not yours."

"Aye don’t care," Gian said impatiently. "Ushuatan allows mme to experience a newborn through maye mate. Aye feel blessed"

More tears meandered down her chapped cheeks. "I’ve done it again, messed up, bad. You and Kristen are right, I do act foolish, and I do mess up my life all the time."

Gian vaulted over her onto the middle of the bed. He gathered her into his arms as if he’d known hugging all his life. "Kristen and Aye were unkind. We acted badly toward you..."

"My breasts, my breasts. You’re holding me too tight."

"Aye am sorry." He loosened his rock hard arms. "Do youu want something to eat?"

Angel sniffled and shook her head. "No, I’d rather you continued."

Gian smiled sweetly at her. "Angel, Aye have waited these long weeks for a chance to tell youu Aye am sorry. Aye was angry, and hurt, but had no right to be cold."

"I must be pretty pathetic to get you mad, considering how tolerant you are."

"Aye love youu. Aye do."

Angel lifted her gaze. For the first time, she realized his bruise was gone, save a very slight yellowish coloring along his lipline where his second set of stitches had been. She traced a shaky finger over it. He had a slight scar for life now, because of Eric. "How could anything excuse what I’ve done?"

Gian drew in a deep breath and let it out just as slowly. "Unpleasant people fluster and confuse youu. That doesn’t make youu foolish."

His faith soothed away some of her pain. Suddenly, she flashed back to a few moments ago when he claimed he loved her. He’d gazed down at her, giving a heavenly little heart sound, almost like a purr. "Oh, Gian, you do love me."

"Aye meant it when Aye first said it a moon ago, and will say it more often because it means a lot to youu."

Angel rubbed her forehead against the black material of his shirt, trying to reconcile his declarations with her perspective of herself. "Kristen had some good points."

"Her private agenda made her mean."

"Her private agenda?"

Gian shook his head. "We can discuss that later. Youu need nourishment. And will also rest today. In bed. Aye will take care of youu."

"I am very very tired. But that’s expected, right? How long have you known?"

Releasing her, he slid off the bed and extended his arms to her. "The past nine days. The nausea began. Youur breasts are not only sore, thhey are bigger. Aye didn’t think it possible."

Angel giggled and held on to him while she stood. "I’ve been feeling faint lately, too. I suppose I should see a…" Her composure cracked. "I don’t know how I’m going to stand it. I don’t want to be pregnant."

Gian lifted her chin and gave a patient gaze. "But youu are, Angel."

Angel wasn’t sure how he was going to stay her champion when Eric found out about this baby. Fatherhood gave him rights. Rights he’d use to keep Gian from enjoying the baby at all.

"Would youu like to wash up? Aye will escort youu."

Angel was more than happy to let him. When she slid her hands off the sink’s countertop and stepped away, she found she needed him. Fortunately, he caught her before she fell. "I’d blame this on low blood sugar, but I’ve felt like this even after I’ve eaten at night. I don’t want a standard practice obstetrician, Gian, I want a midwife this time. And if I must go through with this, I want to give birth here, at home. I didn’t like the doctor I had with the twins, and all the craziness in the delivery room. I’m surprised the twins turned out so well-balanced after their shocking entry into the world. A shivery cold room, bright lights, loud voices and noises, nine million sets of frantic hands all over them. Poor things."

"Do youu want to change?"

Angel shook her head. "I’m want to try to sleep after I eat. What do you think about the midwife?"

Gian scooped her up and carried her through her bedroom door into the hall. "Whatever youu wish."

"I can’t believe you let me stay in my own little world so long. You fed me, watched over me, cared constantly."

The hall opened up into a bright sunny kitchen. He set her in the rocking chair by the hearth and knelt beside her. "Youu needed the time to reflect. So Aye made sure youu had it." Gian gave her a smooch on the cheek, then pursued her meal.

Angel wondered how she could tactfully bring up the issue of sex. Now that they were at a truce in their month long ‘separation’, would he forgive her for kicking him out of bed?

A tray with cider and a piece of lightly buttered bible bread on a small plate was set beside her. Angel caught his hand before he got away. "Gian?"

He knelt and gave her his full attention.

Angel stroked softly along his strong jaw. "Would you let me claim that you are the father?"

"Honesty is preferable."

Angel sighed. "I knew you’d say that. Most men would say yes without thinking about it."

"Aye am not most men."

This time she murmured sadly. "In this case, I’m almost sorry."

Gian’s auburn brows knit. "Honesty is best."

From the corner of her eye, Angel saw a blond head bob by the window. The knock on the door sent hope and misery clashing inside her. "Gian!" she whispered urgently.

Gian let their guest in. He nodded politely at Kristen, but Angel saw strong wariness wash over his handsome Tro^ian face.

Kristen stopped at the edge of the braided rug and glanced nervously at Angel.

Angel studied her, not sure what to say.

Kristen spoke first. "Hi."

"Hi."

Kristen stared at her feet. "I’m sorry. I was wrong to be so nasty to you. I planned to let you know I was frustrated, but I... lost my sense and said a lot of things I didn’t mean."

Angel lowered her eyes to her lap, at her shaky hands as she balanced them nail to nail. "It’s okay, I agree with you."

"No. You shouldn’t. Over the years, I have thought about your tendency to act rashly, but never the vicious way I said I did. You don’t plan the things you do, Angel. They just happen while you’re freaking out over something Eric has done." Kristen sat cautiously on the edge of the trunk near her. "He’s always been a master at scattering your wits. Eric knows how to get to you, how to twist you up in knots. And he’s been pretty tough lately. That doesn’t mean you’re bad."

Angel’s heart flip-flopped.

"If you can ever forgive me, I’d be grateful. I wanted to come here sooner, but I didn’t have the nerve. You’re my best friend and I’ve insulted you inexcusably. I’ve missed you, Angel."

Angel extended her arms and hoped. Kristen hugged her. "I’ve missed you so much, Kris. I forgive you, if you forgive me."

Kristen sat in the easy chair, even dragging it slightly closer to the rocker. "I just want to forget and start fresh."

Angel sighed with relief. "I do, too."

"How have you been? What’s with the nightgown? It’s eleven a.m. You’re usually up and about by now. You look tired."

Flushed with guilt, Angel felt even worse when Gian postured in readiness, his expression growing wary. What did he know that she didn’t?

God, now she had to tell Kristen the news.

"I’ve not been feeling well the past week or so."

"Oh, I’m sorry to hear it. Isn’t it kind of early for a flu?"

Angel cringed. "Yes."

Kristen’s face paled. "Angel! Is something wrong with you? If there is, I’ll never forgive myself for adding to your discomfort."

Angel tried to swallow the huge lump that lodged in her throat. "It’s not...I’m not sick."

Green eyes darted all over her. "I don’t understand. Have you just not been sleeping well?"

"I’m uh...I’m uh... " Angel faltered, afraid to say it. Oh, how she wished Gian would let her have this one lie. She’d never ask for another. "I’m pregnant."

Kristen’s brows flew high. "Pregnant?" Her gaze flew to Gian and back. A tentative smile curved her perfect mauve lips. "Really?"

Angel swallowed the new lump that constricted her breathing. "Yes." Tears welled in her eyes.

Kristen leaned back into the chair, her gaze growing guarded. "Why so glum? You did just marry. This is a ‘legal’ pregnancy."

Oh, Gian, please!... Angel screamed inside.

"I know."

"I don’t understand." Kristen’s expression darkened more. "Your husband is your lover, right? Odds are it’s probably his."

Oh, if only…. "He’s not...not...responsible."

Kristen scowled. "How can you say that? Have you been using protection?"

"No."

"Then how can you claim that?"

"He’s not able to give me a child."

Kristen glanced at Gian. He offered a slight shake of his head. "How can you know that? Was his fertility tested?"

Angel swiped at the tears starting to overflow. "No."

"What the hell is going on then? I don’t understand."

Angel cringed at Kristen’s growing tension and offered Gian a silent plea. The compassion in his eyes punched the air out of her lungs. "He can’t. His first wife left him because she wanted a child."

Kristen leaned back further, though this time, caution shadowed her features. "Wait a minute, I thought he, you, had a memory loss. I guess that’s a lie?"

Gian eyed Kristen sharply. "Do not make a scene."

"A scene? A scene?" Kristen sputtered. For a moment, she was silent as she absorbed the news. She fixed a sinister stare on Angel. "Then you know this is Eric’s?"

The very words crumpled Angel’s composure.

Kristen clutched her bag to her stomach. "No!" She shook her head. "It was going so perfectly, tell me you didn’t mess it all up for me, again."

"It’s Eric’s." Angel waited, not sure why Kristen was so upset. Her pregnancy didn’t really affect Kristen’s life that much.

Kristen’s face twisted into a mask of rage. "God damn you. GOD DAMN YOU, ANGEL."

"Kristen!" Gian shouted over her.

Kristen shot him a warning glance. "What do you think I’m going to do, beat her up? Or are you another Eric? No one can speak their mind if you’re around?"

Angel raised a shaky hand over her mouth as Kristen stared at her like she was a loathsome, horrid creature.

"You just won’t let go of Eric, ever, will you?"

Gian was at Kristen’s side and used his superior size to back her off. "Cease shouting at Angel!"

"Go to hell!" She glared at Angel. "I thought things were going to settle down now that you were married. Eric is just starting to warm up to me again in that old way! Eighteen years ago, he was my guy! We were dating casually, but he was growing to expect our weekend plans! Ask anyone from school." She threw her arms wide. "It was Eric and Kristen long before you were ever in the picture. I only befriended you to break you two up," Kristen croaked, tears welling. "In the beginning, he was seeing both of us; you didn’t know that, did you? I wasn’t going to hand him over to you without a fight. All I needed was a little more time and he would’ve been mine. Remember the night you stood him up for the dance? I invited him over to ‘cheer him up’. I was going to offer him my virginity that night. But naturally, you changed your mind less than two hours later and had the audacity to call him back--at my house! My house!" she cried with outrage.

Angel gawked.

"If you’d just left us alone, his interest would have been switched like that afterwards," Kristen said and snapped her fingers, "from you back to me. You would’ve been history, a fleeting fantasy he had before he ended up in my bed. All this would’ve never happened! I was hopeful when you divorced him. But you continued having sex with him. Kissing in public, all the intimate lunches and dinners in town. Finally, the Lord blessed me and sent Gian your way. You wanted him, married him, I had hope again. And now, you’re pregnant. Forever tied to Eric yet again. Damn you, Angel. You bitch!"

"Kristen!" Gian stood between them.

"Move aside, big boy! Don’t worry, I’m done anyway. You shouldn’t worry anyway, Angel is actually tough as nails. She only acts pathetic to conceal the manipulative bitch inside that makes sure she gets what she wants, every time, what ever way works best. Now, she has you both at her beck and call. You’re not as smart as you think. That temptress always said you were a basic male animal, that she’d wear your tough exterior down just to prove it to you." Kristen shot Gian an evil smile, looked him up and down, but more insidious was the subtly seductive way she moved into his space, hips first, while she dressed him down to size from under her long lashes. "And here you are, her husband."

Kristen straightened up and gave a pert smile to Angel. "As always, it’s been a pleasure. Never has anyone but you broken my heart so many times in my thirty-eight years. All I ever wanted out of life was Eric. And he’s the only treasure I’ll never have. I have you to thank for that, Angel."

When the door slammed behind Kristen, Angel began to shake from her very core from sobs so deep they hadn’t surfaced yet.

Through blurred eyes she gave Gian a brave smile. "At least I was honest," she moaned and dissolved into tears.

Angel was sure it was the depression of losing her best friend again that sent her to bed for three months. Surely, no one could be this ill because of a pregnancy. Learning how terribly she’d hurt Kristen over and over all these years was too much to take. All this time she’d never known Kristen was in love with Eric.

More than sick in the mornings, she was sick all day. All night. So tired, she couldn’t get out of bed for more than an hour or two. Those times she drew designs for her end-of-winter line, conversed with her attentive husband, ate, spent time with the boys, or weathered the nervous visits from Lyndon and Danny. As if they feared she was going to die. Although she’d managed to eat five meals a day, even while nauseated, she’d lost four pounds.

Gian’s and the boy’s devotion and constant care helped, but she felt so awful she was unable to enjoy it much. Summer ended and turned to fall, her favorite time of year. She didn’t care. The season for colorful autumn leaves, pumpkins, and trick or treaters came and went without her participation. Angel planned to sleep until she felt better, period.

Ramona, her midwife, said she was healthy. She was just taking the complications concerning the pregnancy too hard, and she was ‘older’ now. Two other physicians gave her a clean bill of health, too, with the opinion that some women were this miserable in the first trimester. It was uncommon, but not unheard of.

Angel occasionally blamed Ramona’s pregnancy teas, but whenever she didn’t take them, she felt even worse.

Then on November twentieth, she woke up at six p.m. feeling fine. Angel snuggled under the warm covers and waited for the nausea. It didn’t come. She was still tired, but she rose easily despite it. Her legs were no longer wobbly and the urge to faint into a boneless heap was gone. She dared a nice warm shower and savored it.

Staring in the bathroom mirror, Angel slowly traced her finger over the darkened circles under her eyes. A heavy dabbing of ivory concealer and a quick blending covered them up, mostly, but she’d never had them before in her life. Perhaps being pregnant at thirty-six was the cause, as Ramona gently hinted. Dragging her fingers through her pregnancy-thickened hair, Angel smoothed and fussed until she felt perfect. Focusing on her figure, Angel noticed that Gian was correct, her breasts were fuller, bigger. Dolly Parton huge, really. Her face had rounded slightly, but other than that, she looked as she had before she’d been stricken.

Angel stared hard at herself. Hunger rumbled through her belly, but another craving possessed her to distraction since she’d been up. All she wanted, even before something to eat, was to find Gian and romance him into her bed. Four months has passed since they’d been intimate. Their ‘honeymoon’ at that.

The time had gone by like a sickened blur, but tonight, she remembered everything he’d said or done so clearly. The succulent scent of him as they rubbed together while he helped her do everything the few times she couldn’t tend her personal needs alone, like dress, shower, or even sit up sometimes. Often he’d lull her to sleep with the low, gentle steadiness of his voice, talking softly of future plans, fun times ahead with her. Always, he was patient and devoted, strong and reliable. But most of all she remembered the constancy of sweetness twinkling in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Angel huffed at her reflection. "I hope he didn’t listen to the terrible things Kristen said."

The scene replayed in Angel’s mind as if it happened yesterday. The claim she was going to have Gian just to prove she could. "I never said that, not like that." Kristen had been ripping mad, but she didn’t have to lie and hurt Gian to endorse her argument.

Angel brushed through her hair and remembered fonder days with Kristen. Their long friendship was really over. Or, had there ever been a real friendship?

After all, Kris had remained very close to Eric, but Angel realized now that it had been much more than a trio of friends. How could she not see what was going on all these years? Whenever she and Eric fought, Eric would go to Kristen to talk. Kristen was a frequent visitor to Eric’s office in town. Many times they had lunch together, dinner. Perhaps Kristen’s whole reason for pretending all these years was to stay close to Eric. Was that nasty scenario possible?

Flipping off the light as she left the room, Angel went to the armoire and opened the dress cabinet. She glanced out the window, wondering what to wear.

Early winter winds frosted the crisp fall leaves and blew them around in little violent mini-tornadoes. She eyed a teal green dress of cashmere. "Warm, yet revealing. Just as I designed it."

Angel zipped her new dress up and folded the long false-front panel with the tiny pearl buttons into place. Smoothing her palm over her hard, slightly rounded belly, Angel’s mood darkened a little, but she kept Gian’s wisdom firmly in the front of her mind.

Her baby.

Her baby.

If only it were Gian’s baby, too. Eric was a good father, but Angel was sure Gian would be stellar at the job, no pun intended. Giving gentle instruction without condescension was his forte. The boys adored him, especially Will. He said they could tell him anything. Besides, it was just a primal urge she felt, to make Gian a father. But sadly…

Giving a deep sigh, Angel envisioned the arrogant delight of this child’s father as he seeded her. After doing what he did to her, she should hate him. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Her love for Eric would never die. It was pure, real, passionate; they just couldn’t live together. In a way, she was glad Gian rushed her to the altar. Eric was her past, Gian was her future. It was clear-cut now, nothing to agonize over.

Angel studied her reflection. Was this dress too clingy, considering she’d lost a few pounds and gained two cup sizes in her breasts? Even her small pregnant swelling seemed huge because she was so thin. Well, Gian’s reaction to it would be the final judge.

A rustling of bags at the door drew her attention.

Ramona Thomas stared at her in surprise. "Angel! You’re up. Just this morning you were green and moaning. You look very fashionable. Like a model with an overdone boob job."

Angel chuckled at her warped brand of humor. Ramona was a big woman, not fat, but matronly. Her face was youthful like her manner, but her salt and pepper hair made her look more like a grandmother than a woman of forty-five. Angel liked her a lot.

"I’m surprised I feel good, too."

Ramona lifted the paper grocery sack in her left hand. "This is several pounds of dried rose petals from your garden. I understand it’s a tradition."

"Yes. A tradition I invented when I was thirteen. It’s my contribution to the Wright heritage, I’m proud to say. Thank you so much for doing this. I would have missed making potpourri’s, for sure. So would those who count on sachets for Christmas each year. Few holiday shoppers who leave my boutique go without buying at least one."

"Your husband deserves the credit. He was very concerned over the issue; tried to hire my services. I refused. My only fee is one of those Christmas sachets you spoke of."

"Expect two."

"Great. For the past six weeks, my shop has smelled heavenly. I didn’t know the scent of roses varied with the colors. Customers comment daily, ask when I’m going to finally sell some. There’s more at home finishing drying. I’ll bring them tomorrow."

"I’d also like to offer you a free trip through my shop downtown. An outfit, on me. Please don’t say no." Angel raised her arms to fasten her pink tourmaline necklace strand Gian designed for her. For a scholar, he was actually quite creative.

Setting the bag on the table, Ramona gave Angel a shrewd once-over again. "You’re much to skinny for a woman four months pregnant."

"I’m not trying to stay thin. I don’t remember it being this hard when I carried the twins. Maybe this is just a hungry baby." Uncrumpling the paper bag, Angel spread the sides wide and fluffed the crackly maroon rose petals up.

"Your husband’s in the kitchen making dinner for you. Your goal is ten pounds. But not from sweets. Keep eating the superior vegetable protein combinations hubby’s been making for you, though supplement with meat or eggs at least a few times a week. Especially, take calcium. Organ and brain development has leveled out some, now it’s time for teeth and bones. Eat heartily."

Angel smiled to herself. "Yes, I will, I am hungry."

"Four times a day, the two tonic teas, until you’re up those ten pounds. Use lots of fattening honey."

"Eight cups of tea a day? I’m glad I like the tastes of your brews." Stopping just inside her door, Angel considered her midwife. "I wanted to thank you for being here so often while I was in bed. You’re very dedicated."

Ramona gathered her small tincture bottles on the nightstand tray and loaded them into her small carrying case. "Your husband did most the work. I’ve seen many good husbands in my time as a midwife, but yours is a jewel. His intelligent devotion is almost unhuman."

Angel laughed at the ironic statement and glazed over it. "How I wish this were his baby."

Ramona waved a hand dismissively. "What can you do, sometimes? Making a mistake with someone you love isn’t a crime. The whole town, including me, was quite surprised when you married Gian. Considering all the tender, public displays of affection, we’d been expecting you to remarry Eric."

A streak of pain shot through Angel’s chest. She sighed. "The quiet compatibility between Gian and I taught me that loving Eric is fine, but I just can’t live with him."

"I recommend sticking with the red head, too. He was made for your happiness. Perfect match."

Angel fanned her fingers on the door and clicked her neatly rounded Gian-maintained nailtips on the wood. "He deserves better, but if he’s going to settle for me, I won’t try to change his mind."

"Ah, tsk tsk." Ramona took Angel’s elbow and led her out the door. Whispering, she said, "I’ll go in first, bid him farewell and go. Then you make a starring entry and wow him. He deserves that after all his hard work."

Opening her mouth to agree, she held back when Ramona crossed her lips with one finger. Angel walked silently up the hall with her midwife.

At the kitchen door, Ramona patted her arm and smiled before heading in. Angel leaned against the wall and listened, already alert to the sound of a spoon tinking against the sides of a glass.

Angel just knew it was her regular chocolate milk. Mmm.

"I’m leaving, Gian. Call if you need me again," Ramona said cheerily.

The spoon clanged against glass sharply then stopped. "Need youu, again? Are youu quitting without notice?"

Angel laughed silently at the controlled panic in his voice. This was no time for a joke on him. She stepped into the room. His adorable expression of stress framed by a shock of chestnut hair made her heart flutter. "Hi."

"Angel!" Instantly, he was at her side, a strong stabilizing hand on her upper arm.

His grip sent shivery thrills through her body and made her eyelids heavy as she stared up into his concerned face. "I feel much better. Really. I can stand on my own tonight without trouble. I even took a shower by myself."

After auburn brows lifted slightly, Gian’s gaze darted all over her and his hand remained secure on her.

"Really," Angel assured him.

"Showered by youurself?" He sounded affronted by the very idea.

That moment, Angel realized if she’d been shrewd, she would’ve waited to take one. She had to be naked to shower. What better time could there be to finally take back what she said months ago, stupidly exiling him from her bed?

"Goodnight, newlyweds." Ramona gave them a gentle, approving smile. "Should you need me before morning, call. Angel, eat first."

"Goodnight, Ramona," Gian and Angel said together as if planned. Finally absorbing Ramona’s last order, Angel felt a flush go to her cheeks. Was she that transparent?

"Angel, good to see you up for a change." Lyndon towered over her, sipping the last of his coffee.

"Oh, hi, Lyndon. I’m glad to be up. I’ve told you so often that I’d be fine, didn’t I? Now you can be secure that I’m right."

"You did."

"No doubt it was Gian and Ramona’s excellent care."

Lyndon glanced at Gian. A begrudging, bittersweet smile curved his lips upward. "No doubt," he murmured.

Instinct screamed at Angel. Lyndon suspected Gian was more than he appeared. One visit to the quarry was damning proof enough to anyone that something from outer space crashed there. Then by coincidence, she nursed a burned and broken man back to health. Hired a personal physician they knew would help hide a man’s identity if an old trusted friend like her asked him to. How tragically remiss she’d been. She should’ve had the mess quietly cleaned up right after she found Gian. Her stomach got a little queasy. A few times, she’d seen Lyndon and Danny return to the stable complex coming from the back roads of the property.

Please don’t ever hurt him…she thought to Lyndon, wishing she could plead outright.

"Perhaps youu should sit, Angel, here." Gian guided her towards the rocker by the hearth.

Angel fought his forward stride, only her arm going in his direction. "Dearest, I am fine. Please believe me." She grasped Lyndon’s broad forearm. "Goodnight. I’m so glad you’re a regular part of my family now. I missed your trust and loyalty the past years."

Lyndon’s reticence faded as if she’d hacked through it using old ties. He gave a fatherly smile. "This is just a break, really. Will and I are working late again tonight. It does my old heart good to see your boy so interested in stable business."

"I guess Eric gets one of our sons, and I get the other. Samuel has taken quite a fancy with life as his father’s right hand in financial matters."

Lyndon lifted his hat off the peg by the door. He gave Gian a long once over. "I’ll see you in the morning when Danny and I come up with the briefing. Angel." He tipped the brim at her.

Expecting romance now that they were alone, Angel gave her husband a come hither smile.

"How can youu be suddenly fine?" Gian stepped close and hovered at her side. Again, he inspected her from head to toe, his eyes lingering on her breasts before he considered her belly.

A fluid rush of heat swirled in Angel’s loins. God, he was so sexy, his attention was wholly focused on her as if nothing else existed in the world. "I can’t tell you why, only that I am."

Taking advantage of his unbuttoned shirt, Angel reached up and stroked the soft, flame hair trifling with his bared skin at his collarbone. This color was extraordinary, not ugly, no matter what Eric said. Even though no human had this shade without help from a bottle, it looked completely natural on him. "I would assume it’s because of your excellent care. And I see the loaded tray; you were about to present me with a meal."

He seemed relieved but he examined her carefully anyway, as if unwilling to accept her declaration.

Instinct jabbed at Angel again. He seemed almost... guilty. Quickly, she dismissed such a stupid inkling. He would never be knowingly guilty of anything. Gian was honorable to the bone. "I’m hungry."

Unable to stop herself, Angel trailed her fingers down the deep valley in the middle of his chest. She managed to pluck them off before they went any lower. "I’d like this chocolate milk, for sure."

Gian beat her to the tray and wrapped his hand around the tall glass before she could. He gave her another long inspection. Reaching out, he speared his fingers through her hair at her collarbone as she’d done to him, and thumbed the texture.

A shivery thrill of expectation surged warmly through Angel. She dropped her gaze to the glass. "Are you refusing me the milk you so sweetly made?"

He raised it in offering. "No. Aye am surprised that youu are so quickly recovered, Angel."

Angel took a sip and ended up downing half the milk before she came up for air. "You always mix it just right. I have to struggle to blend it this perfectly." Urged by her starving stomach, she tipped the glass and drank the rest.

"Do youu want more?"

Angel stifled the urge to be wary of that guilty nuance to his demeanor. She gave a dismissive shrug of one shoulder. "This will hold me over."

"Hold youu over? Youu need nourishment, youu are too thin."

Angel capitalized on the opportunity and slowly smoothed her hands around the sides of her breasts and stopped at the curve of her hips. "This is the rage in figures nowadays. Ultra-thin. I like it, I’ve never been this trim before," she marveled with wonder.

Gian frowned. "It doesn’t suit youu." Then he mumbled, "doesn’t suit any human woman. Designed to have succulent curves."

"I don’t look good?"

"Youu always look beautiful, Angel." He relieved her of the glass and set it down in the sink. "Youur pregnancy had taken much of youur curvy plumpness to use for its own advancement. Four pounds looks more like fourteen." His hand motioned towards her chest. "Except..."

Angel cupped them suggestively. "Yes, I admit it. They’re monstrous. When I stepped out of the shower, I looked in the mirror. Quite astounding isn’t it?"

Gian huffed self-consciously and averted his eyes. A light ruddy flush colored his cheeks. Grasping both handles of the tray, he stepped towards the hall. "Youur stomach is grumbling. Would like to feed youu."

Angel had a flashback to her last shower. Warm water and soap dripped down her body as she leaned against a hot, hard wall of man. Gian’s big hands washing over her swollen breasts with efficiency, but adoring efficiency, as if he yearned to linger but didn’t dare for the sake of decency. Promise set the hot swirl faster in her loins.

Had the concept of desire actually taken root in his intellectually driven mind and developed while he tended her so closely all this time?

"I wish for a change of pace and would like to eat out here. I’m sick of my room. We could light some candles, turn on some pleasant music."

Gian gave the room a fleeting inspection. "No. Not so soon. Aye will comply with those requests in youur room." He went to the archway and turned. "Please."

There was a peculiar urgency to his request. "Why does it matter to you?"

Gian shot her a loaded glance, and then at the tray. The dubious quality to his expression deepened. "Please," was all he said and headed down the hall.

Angel frowned, foiled out of her chance at a romantic dinner with him. She sighed in resignation and closed the back door and locked it, wondering why he hadn’t done this himself. Will and Sam were well-trained to use their keys to get in.

When she walked into her bedroom, Angel breathed deeply of the aromas. There was a lingering smell much like that of Ramona’s herb shop, but her perfume and fresh flowers scented the air most strongly. "Gian, I’ve lived in this small space for months. Why couldn’t we dine elsewhere? Maybe even the library?"

Gian’s head shot up, his hand paused over the lid of a serving dish. "Library?"

Angel could have sworn the subject of sex flashed through his mind. That would explain his self-conscious shyness. "Never mind. Here is fine."

When his glance shot towards her bed, Angel felt her temperature rise another degree. Gian knew everything about her sometimes more accurately than she knew herself. He was very alert to her cues. Was it possible he knew where her mind was?

Ah, of course. The obviousness of his ploy to lure her in here became clear. He didn’t want to get ambushed at the kitchen table! Or even in the library.

Angel came up behind him and ran her hands up his wide muscular back, across his hard shoulders and down his thick, strong arms, concentrating on the luscious V of plump hard muscle where his biceps began. "I was very stupid when I claimed not to want to be physically intimate with you ever again. Mad and just plain stupid, I dug myself into a hole that only you can help me out of. I think you expected as much, didn’t you?" She hugged him, her fingers rubbing his bared skin between the hanging lapels of his shirt.

"Are youu…that well?"

Angel’s eyes flicked open at his simple acceptance. "Yes." His heartbeat quickened under her stilled palms.

"Aye would rather youu eat first."

Angel couldn’t believe her ears. First? "Why are you so agreeable suddenly?"

A haunted light shadowed his expression. "Youu will have anything youu want," he swore solemnly.

"Is something wrong, Gian?"

"No."

Angel fiddled with a abalone button on his shirt. "Will you simply be allowing my wishes if I did this again?" Sliding her fingers underneath his shirt, she nudged one shoulder back to expose more flesh. He shivered visibly. "Or is it possible that you’ve fantasized once or twice about me touching you?"

Their eyes met. That damned resignation was there, but Angel focused on how quickly he was aroused instead.

"Aye have considered it once or twice."

One corner of Angel’s mouth quirked up. "Considered it?" She raised one brow. "More than once? I’m flattered. But before I consider removing your shirt, you must forgive me for acting a complete fool."

"Forgive, Angel. Always."

Gian drew in a trembly breath when she shoved his shirt off the other shoulder. "I was silly to think that you wouldn’t. Prove that you wish to make love and slide this off." She hung her hands on the thick material of the lapels.

With his usual unconsciously seductive manner, he obeyed, letting the garment slip down his arms. The move spread his meaty chest in her face. Mmm.

As his shirt dropped slowly to the floor, she cooed with appreciation. "Do you really want to do this?"

He swallowed hard. "Aye want youu, Angel," he admitted, a scandalized blush flushing his cheeks and chest.

Angel licked her lower lip. "Enough to kiss me?"

Gian cupped her face and stepped back, bringing her gently with him. He sat on the edge of her bed, evening their heights. Pulling her closer still, he tilted his head and parted those heavenly plump lips.

Almost in disbelief, Angel pressed her mouth against his, nervous and curious, as if this was their very first time. The probe of his soft kiss grew harder. Angel’s heartbeat quickened its thud against her ribs. After a few heavenly moments, their liplock deepened. Angel moaned softly and slid her arms further around his shoulders. Oh, what sweet willingness. And his loaded grunts, he was enjoying it.

Angel slowly chased after his tongue. She was repaid with interest. She sagged weakly against him, collapsed in his lap. The abrupt movement ended their glorious contact with an audible smack of their lips. "You do want this," she whispered hoarsely.

"Aye want youu, Angel."

Passion. Plain as day.

Her nipples tightened like little stones against the softness of her dress. Tingles raced from them through her body. His heavy thighs were conveniently spread. She could kneel between them and…. She smiled, growling under her breath.

Gian’s eyed widened knowingly. He slid back onto the bed in a second, shaking his head.

"Later." She shook her head to drive her intent home. Her tongue washed over her lower lip at a delicious chance postponed. She planted both palms on his heaving chest. "I’m surprised there’s no Tro^ian taboo about coupling during pregnancy."

"There is."

"And you’ll still allow this?"

His hands slid to her hips. "Human females often desire sex more when they are with child. For many reasons."

Angel welled with affection for his cute textbook explanation. "I love you so much, do you know that? You are the sweetest man I could have ever imagined. You’d probably rather hold off, but you wouldn’t dare reject me, right?"

His heavy lidded eyes roamed over her body. "Tis not a big struggle, beautiful Angel."

"Then show me your desire. Do what you want to me." Gian lifted her off him. She expected to end up on the edge of the bed in his lap. Instead, she was plunked on her back. He settled between her legs. Mmm. "Oh, Gian, yes."

Angel arched instinctively. The move pressed his hardness against her leg. A delicious thrill shot through her when he pressed back. "I don’t know why I woke up needing you so badly. But I do, and I can’t stand it. I have to have you, Gian. Even before eating anything."

"Then Aye will make this quick." He kissed her, his fingers carefully working the zipper of her dress.

"You? Make love quickly? That’s not possible with your Tro^ian s l o w training, is it?" Twisting her head to see his progress. "They aren’t sore anymore, at all. If you want to touch them." She commandeered the zipper tab from him and yanked it down. Her swollen breasts popped out, jiggling in their hugeness. "Touch me."

His warm hands lovingly caressed her. Angel closed her eyes to savor the shameful pleasure.

"Aye will do more than that, wife," he murmured and lifted off her.

His hot mouth closed over one nipple, his tongue twirling around it. A scream of delight erupted up her throat. "Sweetness, I love it, please!"

Angel shivered and shook underneath him as he divided his attention between them. He licked across her skin, sucked softly, growing more skilled by the moment. His shiny hair swept this way and that across her shivery skin. Down below, her loins twinged with great promise, pulsing with her heartbeat. Lost in heaven, Angel kneaded his arms since they were the only part of him she could really reach well while she rubbed herself to distraction against his thigh.

Gian’s lips clamped down on hers, silencing her. Their heavy breaths mingled to create humid summer warmth around them.

He kissed her until she was ready to burst into tears from need. She pushed him away. "I want you." Her hands rushing down his belly.

Gian levered back on his legs to let her unfasten his belt and pants. His throbbing length spilled out like treasure from an overturned chest.

Greedily she reached for it. Her arm got tangled in his as he slid his hands up her legs, parting her dress fully.

Angel grunted and re-aimed. This time she caught the fat smooth steel firmly. Again, she was forced to let go when he slid between her legs and hefted some of his weight back onto her.

Pressed into the bed’s softness, Angel gasped when he probed her sensitive folds. She raised her hips to accommodate him.

His hands slid under her buttocks. She could feel his whole body shaking with desire. She relished the glorious stretching sensation until he finally pressed deep to her core. He muffled her desperate scream with a kiss. Satisfied to see the same savage pleasure drugging his handsome face, she croaked breathlessly, "This is quick for you, but I want you to..."

He didn’t need to be told. Gian withdrew and pushed back in. Growling under his breath in torture, he did it again.

Waiting for the climax that usually came on her by now, Angel squirmed helplessly when it didn’t arrive. Ready to weep in confusion, she dug her fingers into his hair and kissed him savagely, searching out relief somehow.

To her shock, he began an aggressive maddening rhythm that grew more forceful with each plunge. His groans dripped with torture and lust and they kept in pace with his movements. As the ride became fierce and hard, she clung to him.

"You’re good, so good," she praised as ecstasy engulfed her. His hoarse shout mingled with hers and echoed around the room as he filled her.

Her arms dropped from his neck and fell to the bed. A numbing, delicious darkness swept over her.

"Angel! Angel!" an urgent, fearful voice yelled at her.

When Angel came to, she giggled drunkenly. "You made me swoon! Hail, Adonis!"

"Angel, are youu all right?"

She tightened her legs around his hips. "That was awesome," she purred, reaching up weakly to stroke his hard arm. "Did you like it?"

"Torture," he murmured in a tone that could be either pleasure or annoyance.

Angel arched slightly to jut her breasts out, brushing his chest with her nipples. "Can we do it again?"

When he pulled out of her quickly, she screeched and dug her nails into his arm.

"Oww!" he growled through clenched teeth. Lowering his face an inch above hers, his hair swept around them to form a private, dark cave. "After youu eat."

Angel released him. She had to remember that Gian didn’t like it rough the way Eric did. She frowned at the tray nearby. "After? Promise? The same way?"

He grumbled like a harried husband, but there was a new fire in his eyes. "Promise."

Thrilled by her hope, she grasped his arm. "You do want to do it again? You liked it?"

He appraised her silently for a moment. "Yes."

Elated, Angel sat up, her eyes fixed on his exposed erection. "You’re still hard," she whined.

Gian looked down at himself. Frowning, he tucked it aside, underneath the flap of his open pants to hide it from her and zipped up. "And will be after, too."

She flung her flattened, damp dress on the floor to get it out of the way. Still trembling with desire inside, she sat on her spread legs. Looking down at her breasts, she touched her nipples until they tingled. "God, your kisses were so good. Did you like it?"

Gian slid a plate near her and set gingerly down on the edge of the bed. "Like everything with youu."

"Is your prejudice for ‘oral deviations’ conquered?"

As if he knew where her mind was, Gian glanced between her thighs and blushed.

"Do you want to taste me...there?" Her cheeks flushed warmly.

He choked on air and coughed. "Aye have considered it."

His hardly audible, rushed answer sent thrills racing through her body. "How am I supposed to eat now? Knowing you...that I can teach you what I like?"

He smiled dryly. "Youu don’t eat, Aye get dressed."

"All right! All right! I’ll eat!" She reached for the plate. But her aggression made her lightheaded and she struggled not to weave where she knelt. His strong hand cupped the back of her neck and the other slid under her arm. He lowered her back against the pillows and hovered at her side.

"Open youur mouth."

Angel chewed the omelettey tasting thing he put in. Drawing in a deep cleansing breath, Angel reached up and fingertipped his naked nipple. He flinched, but didn’t stop her. "Gian, you’re the most wonderful husband I could have ever dreamed possible. You’re incredibly sexy and you take care of me so reverently. And I trust you, I do. I hope you believe me."

"Aye believe youu, beautiful angel." He fed her another bite and stroked gentle fingers over her forehead. "Aye hope Aye haven’t done youu wrong," he barely whispered the last.

Angel barely heard it over her chewing and studied him like a good Tro^ian wife. Sad vulnerability swept over his face, again. Fear it was, plain and simple. What did Gian have to fear?

Surely it had to be some simple issue that only Gian thought was bad. Angel dismissed it and roamed her gaze down his tight belly to the bared skin exposed by his open pants. Curled chestnut hair peeked out from under the flap and that telltale bulge, long and fat, teased her mercilessly though it was concealed.

She looked up to find his eyes twinkling with affection. "I can’t help it, you were incredible, I want to do it again."

Gian laughed, free and easy for a change. He kissed her softly. His nose rubbed over the tip of hers. "Aye love youu, beautiful angel. Youu are the greatest gift ever given to mme."

Angel stole a quick kiss, but quickly wrapped her arm around his neck and forced a longer, more intimate one until she was breathless. She stared deep into smoldering copper eyes. "Feed me."

"Yes, wife."

"Then do me again, the same way. I’ll beg if you want me to."

Gian pushed a bite of warm buttered bread in her mouth. "No need. Aye want youu. Again. Always. Constantly. Aye can’t live without youu. Aye won’t."

There was an ominous hint in his voice despite the loving tone. Angel ignored it and focused on the fun just beyond her reach, waiting for her on the other side of two plates of assorted entrees.

Christmas and New Year’s came and went in full festive, gay spirit, but Angel wouldn’t have managed any of her family tasks and local donations without Gian’s help. Despite the late November start, everything went beautifully.

He was quite the organizer. Who else could pull off 29 major financial and civic tasks in less than 30 days? Not even she could have and she’d been doing it for years.

Usually, she’d have started way back in August in order to be done on time and still tend her personal shopping for her family. But administration was second nature to Gian.

At Christmas, her home had been blessed with a steady flow of her friends and extended family. The employee Christmas party for the stable was a well-catered smash. Her holiday food and present drives were so productive that the townhall still had funds remaining to stock up the soup kitchen at the United Church and supplement the emergency town welfare fund. The New Year’s Eve buffet dinner and party at the meeting house was excellently planned and enjoyed by all. Not only had it been her first day out of the house since she’d become pregnant, it had been also been the first time in public on her new husband’s arm.

Though he’d been a ‘public’ figure ever since he’d taken charge of the stables in June last year, Gian was known for being particularly shy. Only those who ran the shops he bought from had the chance to meet him. Still, few found lengthy conversation. The only real way to get to know the Wright Stables manager was to buy a horse. Though it hadn’t been his intention, by virtue of his quiet Tro^ian personality, he cloaked himself in an air of irresistible mystery to her people.

Because of that, his formal introduction had gone extremely well, despite his well concealed nervousness. No one suspected that he was an alien from a far away world despite his unique look and speech. Frankly, he seemed such a princely statesman that everyone was too busy admiring him to care about his differences.

She smiled perversely. Having an alien on her arm had been, and was, a dangerous kind of fun. What she liked most was that everyone had congratulated them on the little one in her belly, too. Not one person assumed it was Eric’s. She’d really enjoyed that. Especially when Gian didn’t correct any of them.

While she waited for him to be ready this February morning, Angel admired the robust breadth of his shoulders as he pored over a file of papers. Half turned away from her, he stood at the phone table, working figures.

Angel realized she’d have to tax his Tro^ian brain more often in the future. Maybe a huge gala for the fourth of July this year…

Her gaze traveled down his narrow hip to the flare of muscle where his thick thigh began. Mmm. Her blood warmed. He might be shy in public, but not with her. She’d label him even a little kinky, though she’d never, never, admit that to him. Might ruin the good thing she had going. Since all human sex practices violated his Tro^ian sensibilities, he didn’t have a selective objection to any particular acts. Just last week he let her tie him up…

She glanced at the clock and grumbled with frustration. What a pity. No time for anything at all. "Are you ready yet, Gian?"

No response. She could smooth her hand over his nice behind. That would get his attention.

"Gian, darling?"

"Yes?" he responded almost impatiently, his eyes still fixed on his work.

Angel smiled. "Are you ready to go yet?"

He straightened up and looked at her, his eyes blank. A groan vibrated in his throat. "Aye forgot the figure!"

"I’m sorry." Angel schooled a smile. Such a terrible failure, forgetting a math figure. Tsk, tsk. "I want to go before I lose my nerve, that’s all. Didn’t mean to mess you up."

"Not a problem. Can go now." Dropping his mechanical pencil down on the top paper, he finally gave her a nice, leisurely lover’s hug.

Angel held her breath, trying not to inhale him too deeply lest she turn on too much. Fortunately, he broke away just as she thought to cling.

"Aye remember!" He turned to his file, but didn’t pick up the pencil.

"Then write it down, I can wait that long."

Gian shook his head. "Aye will remember." He gave a nip of a kiss on her lips. His hand slid gently onto her rounded waist and caressed the growing bulge the way he always did. "Aye worry this meeting will be too much for youu."

"I’ll be fine. My real concern is getting you to surrender to my desires. Our time for comfortable sex is waning and I want to store up for leaner days when I only get to look at you and dream."

That familiar shadow dampened the sweet smile he wore. "Youu always get what youu want," he said yet again in that same solemn tone.

"I’ve finally realized that you’re afraid I might not live through this pregnancy. I know this has been pretty violent on my body, but the variety of symptoms are all normal, even the nosebleeds. The fainting. And the constant anemia." Frowning at how dismal her narrative sounded, Angel shrugged it off. "I’ve been claimed healthy by yet another physician, a specialist."

His mood remained dour as always on this subject. Then magically, he relaxed and a come-hither look surfaced in his eyes. "As soon as wwe get home, Aye will perform youur favorite act. Afterwards, youur second."

Angel cooed with scandalous delight. She shivered with anticipation just imagining him... ooh... "Ah, the hell with going," she murmured and tilted her head.

He gave one of those never-ending kisses where they came up for air, but they never really stopped smooching either. Angel gripped onto his jacket sleeve to keep from wobbling when her knees went weak.

Then reason poked through her desires. Pulling her head away, Angel narrowed her brows. "Bad boy, trying to distract me from going!"

Gian sighed and gave a helpless smile. "Aye had to try."

"Kristen’s continued her good work all these months, but I can’t keep avoiding my office."

"Aye know." He claimed the keys to her Escolade off the wall hook. Clearly dejected, he stared at them. Obviously, he didn’t realize his unrest was plain.

What was with the guilt whenever Kristen was mentioned? "Whatever," she whispered to herself in annoyance. "Please stop, you’re making me more nervous with your expectations of trouble."

Gian’s face shadowed with terrible indecision.

Angel wished to simply ask him what was wrong. But that was not the Tro^ian way. She’d learned to accept his reserved nature since he was little likely to change. "Are you ready now?"

When he nodded, the front hank of hair that grew upwards from his low hairline dislodged from the rest and fell forward. It curled off to the side down his cheek, a long graceful ringlet, bouncing away with life of its own every time he moved. This way, he looked tousled, sexy. Mmm.

"Getting too long is it?"

"Not too long for here." He combed it back with his fingers. It stayed. For now.

Angel raised one brow dubiously. "You don’t particularly like it, but you’re growing it anyway?"

Gian walked to her, her cloak in hand. He slid it over her shoulders and straightened the edge of her collar. "Aye want to find out why youu wear yours so long."

"Oh, god," Angel murmured, shivers rippling through her. She gripped the lapel of his jacket and pulled herself close. Tilting her head as if to take a kiss, she stared into his surprised eyes. "You are the sexiest man on this planet. If we don’t get out of here in a few seconds, my primitive urges are going to conquer my mind and shut it down."

Gian grasped her cloak as if to remove it. "Youur first desire will be...?"

Knowing he only wished to avoid Kristen, she snapped, "To get going." Fears churned in her gut. How had Kristen managed to compromise Mr. Honorable?

The silence between them lasted several miles down the road, just on the outskirts of the center. Angel was peeved, and now worried, but she regretted being so crisp with him. "I’m sorry, Gian."

He shot a troubled glance her way before concentrating on his driving. "Is all right. How do youu feel? Still well enough?"

Angel drummed her fingers on her leg, fighting the urge to ask him. "I’m fine, dearest," she murmured with strained nerves. Best let it go for now.

When Gian turned onto Main Street, butterflies tumbled in Angel’s stomach. She’d run short of mental preparation time. Her company office was only four blocks away. Swallowing hard, she watched small white snowflakes flurry through the air and land on parked cars and the tops of people’s hats as they traversed the sidewalks. How would Kristen react to the boss walking through the front door after all this time?

Pulling into the ‘Reserved’ parking space, Gian twisted the ignition keys off. The silence that followed hit Angel hard. Just one pleasant thought. One pleasant thought.

Angel looked to her husband for inspiration. With his black gloved hand propped on the steering wheel and the other resting on the volumous black wool of his cloak over his thigh, his vulnerable expression pierced straight through her heart. A fluttery pitty-pat beat made her sigh.

"In a week, on February fifteenth, your one year anniversary comes. Our lives were forever changed the night you crashed. We’ve come a long way since then. I know what we could do that day."

The corner of Gian’s mouth quirked up. "Have sex all day?"

Angel huffed. "Noo. Are you suggesting that I’m some sort of nympho?"

"Nympho?"

"Nymphomaniac."

Confused and thoughtful, Gian pondered a moment. "Aye don’t recall that word in my readings."

He was so serious. "A woman who is obsessed with sex."

"Ah." He nodded. "Youu."

Angel snickered. "Me? Who came after who last night, Mr. Daushur?"

He cupped her cheek. "Aye had to adjust and acclimate to maye new existence."

Angel ignored his flirty jab. "Anyway, your arrival blessed my life. I’d like to visit your crash site. I know you suffered terrible pain and loss there, but to me, the quarry will always be the place I found the most precious man in the universe. You."

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. She could feel him shaking; his breaths were uneven and harsh on her face. "Beautiful messenger angel," he whispered like a tortured man. A moment later, he released her and sat back, staring out the windshield that was slowly coating with flurries. "Youu will have anything youu wish."

Angel felt wholly loved, though how he managed that while in such deep pain, she wasn’t sure. Fighting the urge to get upset, she straightened the material of her 1777 reproduction cape over her rounded belly and gave him a very serious look.

"And then, Gian, I’m going to have the quarry cleaned up."

He returned the same grave expression. "Too late for that, Angel. Site has been seen by more than youu and mme."

"You saw it? I thought you were still against viewing the site." When he said nothing, Angel’s heart sank. "You wish I’d had it cleaned up after you crashed, don’t you, the way I wish I had?"

"Condition of burned and broken crash site and timing of the arrival of Angel’s burned and broken patient are too coincidental for human curiosity to ignore."

A shiver coursed through her. "I know. I’ve seen Lyndon and Danny returning from the outback a few times. Your somber mood about this tells me you think they suspect?"

"That Aye am an alien invader?"

Angel managed a weak smile at his weak joke. "The first time I saw them returning to the complex from the woods, I went to the quarry. I’m sorry, Gian. I guess I got so caught up in finding you and then nursing you back to health that I never truly saw the site for what it is… I’m sorry. I failed you."

"No. Don’t think that. Aye don’t think that."

She finger-combed through his thick red hair. "I know the ground is frozen solid, but we could have someone bulldoze over what’s sticking out."

"Decided already that mining operation begins in winter instead of waiting until spring. Contractors will remove and bury ‘metal junk and debris that might impede access to mines’."

"I take it that’s how you’re going to fill out the work order?" Angel fingertipped over the slight scar Eric gave him.

"Filled out work order."

Angel dropped her hand to her belly. "Past tense?"

"Strange metal junk sticking up from the ground did not break under pressure from a contractor size bulldozer, and the ground was too frozen to dig it out."

"Oh, god." Angel sucked in a deep breath.

"When ground thaws, contractors will remove whole pieces and bury."

"That ‘metal junk’ brought you to me, you know. I’d like a shard of it to keep."

"Two souvenirs, the rest disappears."

"What of Lyndon and Danny? What do we do, Gian?"

Gian murmured with sad humor. "Hope."

"Hope?"

He silenced her with a kiss. "Is cold out here, inside is warm."

"I love you, Gian. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our secret safe. To keep you safe."

A shy smile brightened his face. "Precious messenger angel." Then it drooped into that troubled look, again. His hand curled around the steering wheel. "Aye refuse to allow any shouting. Youu must not become upset. Surely youu agree."

"I’d like you to believe in my ability to remain in control of myself. I’ve become stronger since you’ve been part of my life."

"Aye believe in youu, Angel," he said gently. Like a perfect gentleman, Gian escorted her along the snowy sidewalk, arm around her waist so she wouldn’t slip. Wiping her boots on the dry mat at the door, Angel noted the flattened pieces of shoe-packed snow scattered all over it.

Clients? Friends? The mailman? Eric?

Angel stared up at Gian and drew in a stabilizing breath. "Wish me luck." The guarded expression on his face irritated her instead of inspired her.

Dozens of scents greeted Angel’s entrance into the receptionist’s area. The smell of cloth varied by the bolt of material. Unconsciously, she began identifying what was new as she unfastened her cloak.

Silk. And velvet, amongst others.

The receptionist, a redhead in her late twenties, smiled brightly. "Mrs. Daushur. Mr. Daushur. Good Morning!"

"Emma, how have you been?"

"Fine, thank you. It’s so good to see you after all this time. May I get you coffee?"

Angel shook her head. "Thank you, no."

Emma turned her attention happily to Gian. "Pineapple juice, Mr. Daushur?"

Silent and stiff, Gian gave a slight shake of his head.

Suspicion roiled in Angel’s stomach. Emma knew what he liked to drink. Gian had been here in her absence. But for what?

Angel refused to be distracted by this mystery. "Emm, I’d like copies of official memos and messages couriered to me at the house."

"Yes, Ma’am, immediately."

"Why is that, Angel? Afraid I’m leaving you uniformed of important news?" Kristen asked coolly from the antique wood archway of the main office.

Surprised by the stranger before her, Angel sized Kristen up. She was as beautiful as ever, even glowing with health, but she looked remote, and miserable despite a bitchy slant to her eyes and mouth.

"Kris." They stared at each other for a moment, silent.

A wicked smile curved Kristen’s mouth. Her gaze almost smoldered at Gian. "Hello," she said with seductive softness.

Gian’s tinged with a ruddy hue. He tensed with anger at the same time. He switched his attention to Emma.

"Would you like juice now, Mr. Daushur?"

Gian gave a regal nod. "Grateful."

Kristen looked him up and down from under her lashes before facing Angel. "Is there anything I can do for you today, Boss, or are you out sightseeing?"

"Checking in. I don’t want our personal falling out to affect our business life."

Kristen murmured a sound that could have been appreciative or sarcastic. Once again her gaze settled on Gian and her mouth thinned into a satisfied, evil smile.

Angel forced herself to be calm. "Is that agreeable to you?"

Examining her long opalescent-pink nail, Kristen answered. "I think your answer is clear. Or are you dissatisfied with my work?"

"No. Not even for one day."

Kristen seemed momentarily thrown off by the honest praise. "Then may I be of service to you in some way, or shall I return to my work?"

Angel saw a glimpse of her old friend for a moment. "My goal today was to review the early spring schedule?"

"Of course. It’s on my desk. I was just registering your latest designs in the cutting cycle."

"Perfect. I’d like to see how they turned out."

"Yes, Ma’am." Kristen eyed Gian with meaning. "Is your bodyguard to remain out here?"

A little shaky, Angel shrugged. "That’s up to him."

Kristen gave that knowing seductive smile to him again. "You’re familiar with the layout, Gian, of course, do as you wish."

Gian’s eyes flashed, a distinct pout pulling his mouth down.

"No need to worry, she and I will just be...talking."

Enlightenment washed over Gian’s face, but it sickened him instead of relieving him. "Angel?"

Angel swallowed the knot of anxiety that lodged in her throat and tried to focus on the calm perspective she arrived with. "I’ll be just fine."

"Oh, that’s right, Angel. Your belly is certainly rounding nicely. I understand you’ve been feeling poorly."

Angel heard just a hint of sympathy in Kristen’s cool tone, but not enough to hang on to. "I’m fine. Can we get to this?"

Kristen turned to go to her office, but her attention caught on the clock on Emma’s desk. Looking over her shoulder, she gave everyone a brief once over and seemed to be calculating a plan. "I have a better idea. Why don’t I grab the schedule, and you and I can go to lunch?"

Feeling like she’d just been invited to her own sacrifice, Angel made a mental note to tread carefully. "Fine with me. I assume you mean just the two of us?"

Gian’s grip on his juice bottle went white-knuckled. "Is that necessary?"

Kristen laughed at him. "Oh, please. You can’t honestly be worried about her safety, what are you really afraid of?"

He laughed caustically.

Angel’s heart pounded. "Could we go, please, I’ve made plans for later," she said with meaning, glancing at her upset husband.

Gian’s pout was legendary. Angel chilled to the bone at his clear regret. I’m supposed to be able to trust you, so I will.

Angel averted her eyes. She had to in order to get out the door. Even when she tippytoed to kiss him goodbye, she avoided looking up. "I’ll be about an hour. I love you," she assured him and followed Kristen out the door.

Was it coincidence that Kristen stared at their feet on the snowy sidewalk and walked closely by her side, close enough to catch her if she slipped? Perhaps not all was lost with her old friend. They halted at the edge of the sidewalk next to Kristen’s car.

Kristen glanced across the street. "How about the Old Towne Inn, it’s right there?"

Angel sensed her duplicitous mood. "Fine. I love their lunch salads."

Main Street was still only two lanes wide in the big quaint town and today, even at noon, traffic was light and rolling along at a relaxed pace. Crossing after a pickup passed by, Angel walked carefully through the blowing flurries.

Inside the inn, the toasty warmth and the heavenly aromas of food enveloped her like a wonderful fog. At the other end of the dining area, the main hearth crackled with a lazy yellow fire and flavored the air with a lovely smoked scent. With a sigh, she relaxed. Leaving her cloak with the coat check man, Angel followed the waiter to a booth. She sat, wondering how long it would take Kristen to do the evil work she seemed to have planned.

Perusing the menu, Angel quickly located exactly what she wanted. "Hot chocolate, chef’s salad. Blue Cheese dressing on the side, please, and your tasty garlic butter with the bread." Folding closed her menu, Angel glanced around while Kristen ordered.

Suddenly, she alerted, her heart knotting up. Several booths down near the corner, Eric was sitting with the lovely brunette just about their age. Already watching her, he nodded to acknowledge Angel, than resumed his conversation. Was it her imagination that jumbled in with his mixed expression, was guilt?

Fussing with her napkin in her lap, Kristen turned to look with her. She raised a brow. "He’s been seeing her lately."

Under the table, Angel spread her fingers over her hard belly. "He looks like he’s conducting business to me."

"Tsk, tsk, Angel. See what I mean? You just can’t let go, can you? Just because they’re discussing business doesn’t mean they aren’t having sex."

Angel focused her eyes elsewhere, anywhere. The table had a lovely pewter vase full of purple and red flowers. Delicate baby’s breath dotted the greenery, giving an elegant touch. Very nice.

"Don’t worry though, you’ve ruined him for life when you cast your spell over him back in high school. There will never be anyone for him but you."

The sting of sarcasm irritated Angel. "If he’s dating, then that wouldn’t seem true, would it?"

"That baby you carry keeps him captive. But he’s your willing captive. And always will be. Even though you took another man to your bed and flaunt him in public under Eric’s nose."

The waiter delivered her cocoa in time to hear Kristen say that. The heat of embarrassment surged through Angel’s veins. She stirred the steaming brew. Wisely, she kept silent.

"Considering all that, you have to marvel that at least he’s been leaving you in peace. You have noticed?"

Angel breathed in the chocolate aroma, impressed with her own Gian-like control over her raging emotions. "Yes, I’ve noticed."

"You can thank me for that. Since no one else had the brains to realize the only people in the world Eric is vulnerable to are his sons, I finally stepped in. They’ve been on him pretty hard about letting go and giving you a chance for... happiness..." Kristen emphasized the word ever so slightly.

"You set Will and Sam on him about that? Why would you do that?"

Kristen gave her a wilting look over the rim of her ice water. "Oh, please. By insisting that Eric treat you better and respect your wishes, I’ve set them upon him? Isn’t that being a little dramatic?"

"Will and Eric are barely speaking. Several times the past weeks he’s come home from Eric’s without Samuel and refused to go back. And you don’t feel bad for that?"

"Angel, Angel. Will simply insists that Eric apologize to Gian for hitting him. Like a spoiled child, Eric refuses, but for the sake of his relationship with Will, his stubbornness is crumbling. Hence, their arguments. No one else can move Eric to that point but his intelligent, reasonable sons. I guess I should have nixed the idea because...why?"

Angel’s teeth set on edge. "The boys are only sixteen. They need a healthy relationship with their father in order to grow properly."

"Seventeen in a few days. They are almost adults, mind you. They’re six feet tall and have rather remarkable maturity for their age. I think they’re having the healthiest relationship I’ve ever known them to have. The boys want you to be happy and left in peace, so they’ve rallied around you in your time of need and kept the bad boy at bay. Eric has conceded on most issues to please them and they’re helping their father take the final step into maturity. You’re right, that is terrible."

Welcoming her salad, Angel spooned dressing onto the vegetables. Man, Kristen was tough today. Reaching for a roll, she noticed that Kristen had nothing but an apple in front of her. "That’s all you ordered?"

Kristen flicked the red fruit with her nail. "I’m not hungry."

Completely frustrated with Kristen’s Mr. Hyde personality, Angel thought of Gian. She felt now how he’d looked then in the receptionist’s space, unsettled and vulnerable.

Without meaning to, Angel looked over at Eric again just to see what he was doing. Head down in conversation with his ‘date’, Eric pointed to items on the page in front of them with the tip of his pen. It moved in a familiar pattern, columns of figures. She’d watched him do this for eighteen years. His manner was strictly professional. That woman was his client. She was sure of it. So what was Kristen trying to do?

Steeling herself for round two with the new Kristen, Angel picked up a knife and smeared garlic butter on small piece of the Inn’s sumptuous sourdough loaf. "Gian certainly wasn’t pleased to see you again."

With the knife held loosely in her hand, Kristen tapped the sharp tip over and over again into the apple.

The cold-eyed look she aimed at Angel was unsettling. "Can’t imagine why, he certainly left energized last time we were there alone together."

Adrenaline forced a searing, prickly heat to the top of Angel’s head. She put her hand down so Kristen couldn’t see that it was shaking.

Fire ignited behind Kristen’s frosty glare. "He didn’t tell you why he was at the office, did he? I wonder why."

"But you will be glad to do it."

"Sure. He wanted to surprise you with a comprehensive catalog."

Angel clicked her tongue. "Did you enjoy blowing apart his surprise?"

Kristen shrugged and tossed down the knife. "Our team work was halted when he gave up some weeks ago."

"Why?"

"He didn’t tell you any of what went on between us?"

Angel feigned calmness. "No. He must have thought it not important enough to talk about."

Picking up the knife again, Kristen gouged a chunk from the apple. She nibbled at the end, satisfaction icing her classic features. "Thought he always told you the truth?"

The new trap Angel walked into snapped shut and caught her solid. A shot of aching pain and all. But she refused to get upset or cry the way she always used to. Sipping her drink, Angel gazed intently at Kristen, all ears.

Kristen seemed to be waiting for her to react, too. When it didn’t happen, she shrugged casually and smiled, that bitchy slant back. "I should be honest. Something of interest did happen to me while you were under the weather."

"I can’t wait to hear," Angel pushed out with lagging confidence.

Kristen laughed. "Miss Dubious over there isn’t the only one Eric’s been doing."

"Really?" Angel said with forced ease. Kristen knew she was carving her heart out and she seemed to relish doing it.

"I fulfilled a very old, or rather, a very constant fantasy. After I found out you were pregnant, I decided that I was really goddamned tired of missing out on all the fun you’ve always had. So I told Eric I needed a man’s opinion on my new line of lingerie. Naturally, I modeled them. At his house. When I was sure he was hot and aroused, I offered him relief. He accepted, and I had sex with him."

Angel’s stomach bottomed out.

"I understand you now, totally. He’s incredible."

Rendered speechless by Kristen’s appalling lack of conscience, Angel stared in horrified amazement.

"He’s quite a bad boy in bed. Heavy duty, aggressive, vigorous; oh, Angel, and so kinky. I’m still sighing from his adventures last night. I’m sorry for being so hard on you. What woman in her right mind could let go of that big...him once she’s sampled his considerable charms? I know I can’t. I get to him whenever he allows it."

Angel’s mind whirled and stormed. Was she telling the truth? She certainly had him pegged. But what did any of that matter? Eric was a free man and she was married.

"I think it’s been so electrifying because we haven’t used protection the way you always avoid. It does add a dangerous thrill to the moment. Now that I think of it, I missed my period the other day."

Laughing in utter bewilderment, Angel gaped at this devil’s tool in front of her. "Does Eric know?" she asked, not sure what else to say.

"Nah, it might not be his. But not for lack of constant, thorough seeding."

Angel really wanted to run away screaming from this awful person. But she knew there was more to hear. Instinct nagged that she’d find out why Gian was so upset.

Kristen smiled tightly. "You don’t believe me, do you?"

"You’ve really got me at this point. Truly."

"Aren’t you going to ask me who the other contributor is? You know him fairly well."

An anxiety attack swept over Angel and very nearly wiped away all of her careful control. "I’m sure you’re going to tell me."

"What’s the matter, Angel, you look upset. Your hand is shaking. Your face is pale. Do you suspect who it is?"

For some reason, Angel kept her wits. Nonchalantly, she sipped the remainder of her cocoa, shaking hand and all. Kristen had worked very hard to upset her, why hide it?

"The sexual encounter with Gian was a nice surprise. We were discussing which items should go in the catalog. I showed him photos of the lingerie I recently designed and was filmed in? Remember?"

Feeling sick, Angel had no choice but to listen.

"I really adore those pictures. Best ones ever of me. He lingered long over them. Gian’s a breast man, I found out. When he got to the naughty one of me with only the pasties covering my nipples, he was riveted. I was very flattered. I couldn’t resist showing him the other one, the short red lace robe with nothing else on? Nipples peeping out of the front, my bare derriere peeking out of the hem? Hot photo, my favorite. To make a long, delicious, sexy story short, I saw clearly that he was aroused and thought, what the hell? You’ve screwed both of them. So, I got really close up against him and wrapped my hand around his really fat dick. It’s even bigger than Eric’s. I don’t know how you take it being so small. Anyway, we ended up in a nearby chair, me in his lap. He takes forever, but he’s good."

Angel swallowed hard against the swollen feeling in her throat. Sweat beaded on her temples and upper lip.

Kristen seemed disappointed there was no cry of defeat or weeping. She shrugged and tossed down her half eaten apple slice. "I don’t take stock in your rumor that he’s infertile, he just doesn’t seem the type. Like you, I’ll have to wait and see when my baby is born who fathered it."

Kristen gathered her bag and looped it over her shoulder. Sliding out of the seat, she stood and smiled nicely. "We didn’t get to the schedule, but somehow, I think you’re too occupied to care. Goodbye, Angel." She turned and left her sitting there all alone.

Only because she was in a public place did Angel fight to control the rage and disillusionment whirling around inside her.

Gian couldn’t have, couldn’t have... could he? Kristen had described him perfectly, too. No! Not her wonderful, devoted Tro^ian husband. No way!

Angel’s shaky hand rose and covered her mouth. Inside her chest, pain twisted and ached so badly she wondered if she was going to have a heart attack.

Gian’s regret, because he’d... they’d...?

God, no! Please!

Angel clutched her bag against her six-month pregnant fat belly. God no, Gian wouldn’t! He didn’t! Did he?

Heartbeat thundering in her ears, she shot a panicked gaze around the restaurant. She had to get out of here before she fell apart. Sliding on her rear across the bench seat, she struggled not to knock her vulnerable stomach against the table’s hard edge.

Once on her feet, Angel heard patron’s voices elongate and grow distant in her head. Her wobbly legs gave out.

"Whoaa. Good thing I’ve been watching you, Angel," Eric said as he caught her. Levering her back into the seat, he sank down on one knee, his hand firm on her shoulder. "Angel? Angel? You in there?"

Angel saw him, heard him, but couldn’t respond in her paralyzed state. For eighteen years, Eric had been happily, passionately faithful, even the five years following their divorce. And she’d thrown him away to marry who?

Eric jostled her lightly. "Angel? Should I call the doctor?"

"Call 911!" a frantic voice said from the small crowd of waiters lingering close by.

Angel shook her head, beseeching Eric with a soul-searching stare. "Please," she whispered weakly.

"Hey!" Eric barked at the jumpy bystander, "Let’s not get carried away, she’s just lightheaded."

"Yes, Mr. Stevenson."

Eric’s face mirrored true concern. "Are you all right?" he whispered gruffly. "I know you’ve been having a very hard time with this pregnancy."

Her heart fluttered to know he’d been paying attention.

"Angel, if you don’t talk to me, I will have them call the doctor."

"Please, don’t." Her heart twisted again thinking how Kristen described Gian so intimately? Several lucky guesses?

Eric snapped his fingers in her face. "Whispering ‘please’ twice doesn’t convince me you’re all right, Angel."

A surge of rage inflated her chest so violently that it raced up her throat. She choked on it, coughing. "No doctor," she wheezed.

Eric reached across the table for her iced water. "Here, sip some of this then, if you’re fine."

"I don’t want it." Angel bared her teeth at the glass. Gian couldn’t have! But how could Kristen have known the facts? Size? Gian’s lap? His lap?

"Fine, what do you want?"

Angel scoffed at him. Kristen and Eric...and Gian?

Suddenly the spectators spread apart. A tall, commanding figure arrived in a rush of billowing black wool from his 1777 reproduction cloak and a shock of bouncing chestnut hair.

Angel glowered into worried auburn eyes, her stomach roiling in anger. GOD DAMN YOU!...she raged silently at Gian.

"Angel? Do youu need to lie down?" asked the handsome alien cheater through plump, traitorous lips that had slopped over Kristen’s.

Puffed with rage she needed desperately to expend, Angel clutched the folds of his cape rudely. Forcing words out, all she managed to do was bare clenched teeth at him.

Eric scowled at Gian. "Don’t shove me out of the way, pal. Where were you when she almost fainted?"

"Don’t bother mme now."

"Meeeee." Eric snorted. "Where do you come from with that accent anyway? Jupiter?"

Angel yanked on Gian’s cloak again. Hardened gaze bored into his, she croaked, "Bring me home."

Eric stood, a smug satisfaction smoldering behind his eyes. "Trouble in paradise already?" he asked in a hushed voice. "What a surprise."

Angel shot Eric a warning glance. Fist white-knuckled and clenched on Gian’s cape, she was pulled to a stand when he straightened. "I’ve regained my feet, but I’m losing my composure," she whispered in a quiet, iron tone.

With firm support under her arm, Gian escorted her through the dining area and entryway, both of them hurrying in silence.

Crisp winter air blasted in Angel’s face and momentarily stole her breath. She aimed an accusing, narrowed gaze up at him. "I want to…" Her legs went rubbery beneath her.

Gian scooped her up. "Aye will carry youu."

Angel sputtered with anger to have him touch her after what he’d done. At least when she’d conceived this child with Eric, there’d been no commitment between her and Gian, never mind a marriage. "I can walk, thank you."

"Do not be difficult, Angel!" His grip tightened around her.

"Difficult?" She scoffed. "You knew, knew what she was going to tell me, didn’t you?"

Gian slid her to her feet at the passenger door of the car, but held her firmly. "Aye knew."

She shrieked under her breath and waved her fist weakly under his chin. "I should use this."

He bent ever so slightly, his chin poised perfectly as if daring her. "Why not? It’s the human way."

"Seems you’ve adopted a few nasty human ways of your own." Angel dropped her hand

Gian’s face flushed with guilt. He opened the door and guided her inside. Reaching over, he fastened the hip strap underneath her bulging belly.

Angel ground her teeth. "At least I know why you didn’t want to tell me. You’ve looked so guilty for weeks whenever her name was mentioned. No wonder."

Gian winced as if she’d hit him. He offered a guarded glance and then closed her door.

She fumed as he walked around to his door. Before he was even situated in the driver’s seat, she descended on him. "Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear such nasty information from my enemy instead of my...husband," she cast out the word distastefully. But as she did, an itching, full feeling raced down her nose inside. Blood gushed out. "Ohhh!"

Instinctively cupping her hand underneath, Angel could feel warm liquid dripping down her wrist and into her sleeve.

Gian swore under his breath. Grabbing a conveniently handy finger towel, he rushed it to her face. "Press, Angel."

Too surprised to deny him, she closed the thick blue cloth over her nose. Gian grasped her free hand and swabbed it clean of red with quick efficient strokes.

Angel jerked her hand away from his. How many places on Kristen’s body had that thing been? "Never have I had one nosebleed in my entire life until this pregnancy," she grumbled with aggravation. "Ruins whatever I have on, floods down the back of my throat. I may shrug off my troublesome symptoms, but they bug the hell out of me!"

"Always happens when youu are upset or laughing too hard."

Angel glared at him. "Well, I’m certainly not laughing too hard, am I?"

He twisted the keys and started the vehicle. "Please try to calm, Angel, then wwe can talk."

Giving a haughty scoff, she eyed him over the royal blue edge of the cloth. "If you know what she told me, then it must be true!" Averting her eyes when they filled with tears, she stared out the window at the frozen landscapes. God damn him! Ushuatan damn him!

Blotting at her nose, Angel fingertipped her skin to check the blood flow. When liquid dripped down her upper lip, she pressed hard again. "It’s true? What she told me is true?"

If only it wasn’t. Angel watched Gian struggle to keep a deep sigh silent.

"It’s true…" he admitted quietly, his attention focused on the snowy road.

Angel screeched with rage. "How could you? How could you?"

Heart pounding uncomfortably hard, Gian glanced at her again, flustered by the venom in her voice and the dangerous flash in her eyes. "Aye did not pursue the outcome! It was herr doing."

She gaped. "Her doing? How could she succeed without your participation? Do you think I’m stupid to believe such sorry, pathetic, ridiculous plea for forgiveness?"

"Aye couldn’t help what shhe did!"

"Were you tied securely to the chair?"

"No." Gian worried she might launch out of her seat at him and cause an accident before they reached home.

Angel’s expression went alarmingly calm. "Then you have no excuse. I can’t believe you of all people, did such a hideous thing. Wake me up, this is a rotten nightmare, right? I’m not married to what I think I’m married to?"

Her contemptuous tone sparked his anger. He couldn’t help what Kristen did to him. But as he pulled into the driveway, he groaned at the sight of Dr. Gerhard making his way slowly across the snow-covered ground to his car.

"Oh, great," Angel complained. "Make him leave. We are going to talk."

He braked to a stop near the walk and drew in a deep stabilizing breath. Could the situation possibly get any worse? Angel was upset, and now the Doc was here, again. Gerhard had been acting funny toward him the past weeks.

Coming around the Escolade, Gian nodded politely at the doctor. When he opened Angel’s door, she slapped his helpful hand. He stifled the urge to get irritated.

"He’s here to see you, so get rid of him."

Stepping back, he gave her room to maneuver on her own as she demanded, but he shadowed her. "Would youu like mme to throw himm off youur property?" he snapped in a whisper.

Her eyes flashed at him. "Whatever works. We have a serious problem to deal with privately."

"Hello. Am I intruding?" Doc Gerhard’s voice reflected his curiosity. Coming very close, he peered at both of them. "Angel!"

"It’s just a bloody nose, Doc. Nothing out of the ordinary." Walking around them, Angel headed up the stone walk.

"Another one, eh?" He shot Gian a cool look. "She’s certainly having a rough time with this pregnancy. I’ve never seen the like in all my life."

Gian’s stomach clenched. At the moment, two humans hated and mistrusted him. A wave of vulnerability swept over him. "Are youu coming in, Doctor?"

Hands shoved in his pockets, Gerhard considered him. "I seem to be intruding on a personal matter."

Gian upturned his palm in resignation. "No need to let that interfere with important business." Without waiting for a reply, he hurried after Angel.

Inside, Gian helped her lift off her heavy outer coat the moment she unfastened it. As he hung it up, he caught sight of the doctor wiping his feet on the outer mat. Gerhard shut the door behind him, then hooked his hat on a peg.

"Let me take a look at you, Angel."

Angel eyed the doctor dourly over the top edge of the new cloth Gian handed her. "It’s just a nosebleed. Pregnant women get them. Especially me."

Grasping her thin shoulders, Gian dared to guide Angel back into the rocker. Surprised when she obeyed, he stepped back to give the doctor access.

"Perhaps, but you’ve had more than your fair share of difficulties. I’m not comfortable with it." Gerhard lifted her chin and pulled away the cloth. "The bleeding has stopped." He balled the red soaked cloth in his weathered hand. "Have you been taking the vitamin formula I recommended?"

Angel gave him an impatient look. "One with breakfast, one before bed, though Ramona is wonderful at her midwifing duties," she monotoned. "The headaches have stopped, I must admit."

"Good. Your pregnancy induced chronic anemia is just as disturbing at the rest of your symptoms. You shouldn’t be this depleted of vital nutrients considering what you’ve been eating and the good state of your health before this." The doctor went toward the sink.

At the counter, Gian gave the doctor a meaningful expression. He held up an already moistened clean cloth to claim his place as Angel’s mate and brought it to her.

The glower in her eyes pierced straight through Gian. Weary of his endless worrying, he plopped down on the edge of the table and took a few moments to feel sorry for himself. He stared intently at the small healing knife-cut on his hand.

In this new place, his home now, where he’d thought he’d changed his noteworthy record of failure, he’d managed to make several serious mistakes yet again.

But what happened wasn’t his fault.

And the doctor. Ever since he’d taken the blood test, Gerhard had been quietly suspicious, always leveling that dubious, thoughtful gaze at him, as if he had two heads. Or wasn’t human. Gian huffed miserably and poked at the thin crusted scab. With perverse interest, Gian wondered what his blood type was in comparison to a normal human. Had Gerhard gone further, and analyzed his Tro^ian DNA, too? He would have if their positions were reversed.

What would Gerhard do with that information?

Gian crossed his arms over his chest and dared to face the loathing in Angel’s eyes. He was almost relieved to find it aimed at the doctor instead.

"I really don’t understand why you’ve taken an interest in my condition, Doc. I have a competent midwifing team. You are a general practitioner, aren’t you?"

"I have a degree in obstetrics. Back in the old days, I delivered many a resident of this town before hospitals were plentiful. I’ve never seen a healthy woman have such a tough pregnancy in all those days."

Angel’s face twisted with mock confusion. "Is there a point to all these suppositions and questions?"

Doc. Gerhard gave Gian a sidelong glance. "I think it’s odd, that’s all, Angel. Instead of the expected, typical glowing health, you’re tense and drawn most the time. You’ve failed to gain enough weight despite your efforts. I’ve seen you eat."

Angel grabbed a glass from the cupboard and dashed cold water from the faucet into it. Poised to drink, Angel gave the doctor a terse look. "What are you suggesting? That I should go have a late abortion to spare myself the unhappy adventure of having this baby?"

Gerhard’s brows knit tightly. "Of course not!" he said, clearly annoyed. "You used to be bright, friendly, and tolerant, do you remember those days, Angel?"

Drinking, she gazed coldly at him over the rim. "Even you’ve proclaimed me healthy, so could we just drop this?" She plopped the glass on the countertop and turned, her eyes flying open wide. Her hand flew to her belly. "Ohhh."

"Well, finally some movement from that child?"

Angel leaned against the edge of the counter, her fingers splayed as if to hold her stomach in place. "That was a hefty kick."

Gian slowly neared her, lingering just beyond her personal space. She’d said this movement would happen one day, and for months, he’d yearned to feel it. Why did it have to happen now, when she wouldn’t let him touch her?

"Angel, should youu sit down?" he asked gently.

Her look of bewilderment quickly changed to a mask of intolerance. Giving him a frown, she tottered across the room away from the both of them. "Doctor, you interrupted us in the middle of an argument. If you’ve nothing but vague lamentations to offer, why don’t you leave and let us finish what we started?"

"Very well, but I’ll be around. I’m keeping my eye on you, Angel."

"Thanks for the warning, but I already guessed that weeks ago," she retorted. "Though, I have no idea what you have a problem with." Leaning on the phone table, Angel tapped the lead of a pencil on the surface in a rhythmic clack.

Gian closed the door behind the doctor and watched him slowly make his way down the stone path in the blowing flurries.

The pencil tapping stopped. She dropped it. Her eyes raked him from head to toe. "I can barely believe it. How could you?"

The disregard in her tone irritated him. "What happened to the trust youu swore youu would give?"

She laughed humorlessly. "You’re the one who admitted it all happened."

"Ah, well," Gian straightened his spine, "perhaps Aye should rescind maye acknowledgment of guilt until Aye hear what Aye have been accused of."

"So you’re going to change your story now? How convenient. And I’m supposed to believe you? Do I look that dumb?"

"Impossible woman." Edging a little closer, Gian looked down at her. "Aye admit to maye truth, not her truth. Aye remember very clearly the day Kristen directed her mischief at youu, accusing youu of selfish intentions towards mme. Aye gave youu trust. Where is youurs today, Angel?"

Angel gaped at him. "You’re angry? I don’t believe this. Is this your way of railroading the situation away from your terrible offense?"

Gian cursed under his breath. "Aye ‘railroad’ nothing. Nor do Aye admit anything until the trust youu swore to mme replaces that horrible look of disgust and betrayal youu wear."

"I’ve just been informed that you deserve no trust. Do you expect me to just ignore what I heard?"

"YES!" he shouted at her. "What kind of union is this if youu turn away in times of hardship?"

His onslaught appeared to make a dent in her thorny exterior. But though her eyes glazed with moisture, her expression went witchy. "What are you waiting for? Why don’t you tell me your side of the story then?"

Gian shook his head. "No. Not until youu come back to reality. Wwe are the team, not youu and anyone else, least of all a lost friend on the rampage."

She averted her eyes and stared off into space. From where he stood, he could see her shaking.

"Fine, we are the team. And a lost friend on the rampage accused you of a horrible deed."

Gian boiled inside, but he held an iron control over his emotions. "But youu still do not trust mme."

"Not really. She knew too much about you." Her voice choked off.

Knew too much about him? What did that mean? "Angel, please. This is not good for youu. Youu should lay down in youur room," he suggested reasonably.

"That’s the last place I want to be with you right now, thank you. We can just work this out here."

"Then at least sit, please." When she obeyed and sank into the rocker, Gian felt as though he’d managed some measure of success. "Thank youu."

A tear popped out of her eye and beaded on her dark lower lash. She wiped it away discreetly. "What’s your delay in telling me?"

"It’s not maye favorite memory."

"I’m not surprised," Angel said caustically.

Gian’s mouth set in a grim line. "That was uncalled for."

She refused to look at him.

Gian’s anger deflated as embarrassment flushed through him. He closed his eyes. Agh, did he really have to talk of the shame of Kristen’s behavior that day in her office? "Aye wanted to tell youu, but Aye couldn’t bear to, it’s...humiliating."

A spark of curiosity in her eyes helped him go on. "Humiliating?"

Gian shrugged. "What else would youu call what happened?"

She grew thoughtful for a moment. "Treacherous?"

"Treacherous?"

"Yeah, that’s what I said."

Her righteousness confused him. "Treacherous? What did she say Aye did?"

Angel rolled her moist eyes. "That you...that you and she had...that you and she were...intimate."

Gian’s fury almost choked him. "Aye did not!" he said indignantly.

Angel’s expression mirrored her easy disbelief.

Gian came undone deep inside. "HOW DARE YOUU!" he bellowed at her. "How dare youu accuse mme of such a scandalous, sinful act! Aye would rather die than be unfaithful."

Her shaky hand lifted and covered her trembling lips, tears welled in her eyes and overflowed. She sank back into the chair as if trying to disappear into it.

Gian knelt in front of her. "Angel! How can youu believe Aye would tread over ouur vows that way? If youu believe Aye am capable of such terrible behavior, how can wwe go on together?"

Both her hands covered her face and she shuddered, her too-thin shoulders tossed by it. "I don’t want to believe it," she cried, "but she knew things about you."

Gian dared to stroke the errant lock of her soft hair by her cheek. "What did shhe know?"

"Oh, no." She bravely met his eyes. "You tell me what happened, and that’s that."

Gian shook his head. "Youu believe mme untrustworthy."

Her chin raised. "She knew things she should not!"

"All right." Gian stood up and swiped his fingers through his hair. Heat crept to his cheeks. How excessively mortifying this was. Unable to look her in the eye, he stared out the window and remembered.

"Aye called Kristen on October twenty-eighth, while youu were bedridden. Aye wanted to create the catalog youu had expressed interest in--with all accessories? Jewels and lingerie included? Shhe was agreeable. Remote, but agreeable. For seven weeks, correspondence was through courier, sending plans back and forth. Goal was for a late spring shipment."

"I know, she told me. Not exactly like that, but she told me. And enjoyed blowing the surprise, I might add." She sniffled behind the dry cloth in her hand.

Gian muttered disparagingly at Kristen’s memory. "Finally, in December, shhe called. Had a working blueprint for mme to see. Aye went to the office. The meeting went smoothly. So did several more after that. The catalog plans were almost a completed project. January seventeenth, she called again, said there was more to look at. Aye traveled to town." A shot of anxiety pumped through his veins as he neared the end of the tale.

"When Aye arrived, Kristen had the final prints of the lingerie ready and wanted mme to choose one for the cover. Since the photos were of herr, Aye quickly singled one out. After giving mme a look Aye will never forget or understand, shhe dragged out a large packet from the desk drawer. A thick stack of photos. Of youu. In lingerie. And...other states."

"Photos of me? The lingerie photos we had taken back in Spring of last year together?"

"Shhe didn’t say."

Angel whistled quietly. "There were quite a few...racy photos...she and I got a little carried away, though the photographer didn’t seem to mind. I hope she hasn’t shown them to anyone else."

"Best would be for a woman of stature NOT to have portraits of that type taken at all."

Chewing one nail, Angel merely shrugged. "I know. But what’s done is done. Please, go on."

Gian gazed out the backdoor window again, shaky inside. "Aye must admit...Aye... Aye..." He blushed furiously. "There was one... Youu were wearing... youu were lying on a plush rug. All youu had on was...high heels." He offered her an apologetic face.

Angel’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink. "Well, I told you we got a little carried away. I’m glad you liked it."

"Shhe knew Aye did." Gian closed his eyes when a surge of hot, abiding shame boiled the blood in his veins. "Shhe came very close. Too close. Smiled that devious little smile of herrs. ‘Do you like that one?’ shhe asked. ‘Do you want it?’ Since Aye couldn’t seem to put it down, Aye felt herr offer sensible."

Angel snickered quietly.

"When Aye moved aside to put distance between us, shhe closed it. Next, shhe..." The words failed him, caught in his throat and lodged there. Embarrassment burned his face. "Shhe..."

"Kissed you?"

Gian shook his head, wiping the beads of sweat on his upper lip.

Angel sucked in a sound of contempt. "Fondled you?"

"Refused to let go," he said with horrified wonderment. It had been deeply humiliating to have one’s private parts violated by someone he trusted. "Aye squeezed her wrist, tried to push away. Aye was torn, to stop herr meant to cause mayeself great pain. Aye wasn’t sure what to do. Couldn’t believe it was happening."

Gian rubbed his shaking fingers back and forth slowly along his forehead as he gathered his nerve to continue. "Aye chose pain and pulled away. For a moment, Aye was free! But shhe hooked herr fingers around maye belt. Herr other hand... Aye stumbled back into a chair. Shhe fell into maye lap. Instead of getting off, shhe got comfortable. Aye stood and dumped herr off. Clearly, shhe intended to try again, so Aye fled the office."

"And never went back?"

"For more of the same treatment? Aye think not," he said with surety. "Aye wanted to tell youu, so many times, but couldn’t speak the scandalous words, describe the shameful situation."

Angel covered her mouth with a shaking hand, but her tears had stopped flowing and what had fallen dried on her cheeks.

He dared to take a few steps toward her. "Angel, do youu believe mme?"

She rocked ever so slightly, staring ahead of her. "Yes."

Gian’s breath was knocked out of him. He knelt down at her side. "Youu do?"

Angel nodded slowly, her gaze falling to her hands clasped in her lap. "I believe you, Gian. All that she knew had been gathered in those few crucial moments."

Gian dared to caress her arm. "Aye wish youu would learn to trust, Angel. Aye would never forsake youu by acting so disgracefully."

"I believe in you, Gian. Please forgive me." Her eyes twinkled with sweet reflection. "Why have you acted so guilty? I don’t understand."

Gian stared at her shapely knee. He lightly traced a Tro^ian symbol on her skin with the tip of his finger. "Women frown upon men lusting over images."

A new rush of tears flooded down her cheeks. "Oh my god. Is that all? How like you to worry so much about such a small matter. Lusting over pictures of me is quite acceptable and always in good taste. Wait a minute. Lusting? You just admitted to lusting? Do I believe my ears?"

"That picture, Angel. With youur legs lifted high...curvy body naked, wearing only high heels? Such a wicked smile, breasts bared? Ah, so shameless. Shameless, Angel." He shook his head in amazement.

She speared her fingers through his hair. "I’m so very flattered that the picture made you all steamy hot."

"And caused all maye troubles."

She laughed, hiccuped and cried at the same time. "Yes, it did. I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me, Gian. You helped Kristen use the situation against you. Next time, tell me right away. None of that Tro^ian stoicism, please."

"Aye will." Gian kissed the back of her hand, sniffing deeply of her many wonderful scents. "Aye should have trusted youu."

"I should have known Kristen was lying anyway."

"Why?"

Angel smiled tremulously. "You are distinctly different than a human male down below. If she’d seen what you have, she wouldn’t have failed mention it."

"Is that why youu believe mme, because youu have proof?" he asked with disappointment.

"No. She did embellish the tale back in August about me chasing after you, just as she embellished the story of what happened between you and her."

Still she required proof over just believing in him. Gian sighed. "If youu are satisfied, the subject may be closed now."

"It may, eh?"

"Youu must calm down. Already today youu’ve had a nosebleed, and youur baby became upset and kicked in objection to youur panicked state of mind. And youu must eat. Youu barely touched youur salad plate and bread loaf in the restaurant." Gian kissed her forehead and stood.

Heading for the refrigerator, he planned her midday meal in his head. Having two dozen prepared entrees and snacks available, Gian chose the most protein-enriched. After all, she’d missed a meal.

Angel thrived on his Tro^ian based nutrient-wealthy vegetarian diet. Though Ramona had recommended she supplement with animal protein, Angel suffered stomach upset, headaches, and more fatigue whenever she ate it. Pushing the toaster handle down, Gian arranged her plates, ignoring the unpleasant nagging in the back of his mind.

He listened to her puttering around the room, ordering up tilted piles of horse publications and National Geographics. She dusted a small wall shelf by carefully swiping her fingers around the knickknacks and blowing the particles into the air on gusts of breath.

"Angel, let the housekeepers do that. Mention what was left undone, Aye will see that all is done."

"I’m not an invalid, Gian," she murmured from the phone table.

Very nearly, Gian thought to himself. Angel’s pregnancy had confined her to the house, and often, her bed.

Angel came up behind him. "Kristen also told me she was pregnant. That she’d have to wait until the baby was born to know who fathered it."

Startled, Gian frowned. "It’s not mmine."

"Yes, I know. You didn’t, and you can’t. I wonder how Eric will feel when he learns about this. Two on the way?"

"Maybe shhe lied." He set the buttery knife down and offered her the plate of toast. "Appetizer."

"No, I think she is, in an instinctive sort of way, she looked pregnant to me. Radiant. And her business suit was surprisingly loose for her. Was that to cover a pudgy belly, do you suppose?" Angel wolfed one piece down before she reached the table. The second was gone a few moments later. The third followed at legendary speed.

Sliding the tray off the counter, Gian delivered her meal.

"Well, we’ll know soon enough. Pregnancy can only be hidden so long," she said between hungry bites.

He sat down opposite her and watched her dine off all three plates of entrees. Downing half a glass of chocolate milk, she held it in one hand, poised in readiness while she hungrily forked bites of food into her mouth with the other.

The muscles in Gian’s jaw worked. When undisturbed, Angel gorged on meals as if she’d been starved for weeks and ate twice as much than if she was conversing. Angel was painfully thin; she desperately needed every calorie he could get into her.

He slipped back in time to his extensive research about pregnancy when Malana had petitioned him for a child.

A Tro^ian woman’s nightmare was pregnancy. Only established families could afford the down time from career that pregnancy required. For twelve months, she was confined to her domicile and a select team of women physicians and Elders moved in for the duration.

The first of her difficulties was the immediate, a tremendous nutrient drain on her body. The Tro^ian brain was large and very complex, enabling them to store and recall every bit of data they absorbed in research. The Tro^ian body had twenty-four double-enameled teeth and two hundred and twenty-six nearly solid bones that would order themselves into a standing height no shorter than five foot nine. This required a fivefold increase in the amount of calories, vitamins and minerals in a Tro^ian woman’s daily diet. Despite that, a mother could expect to gain little weight, save that of the fetus.

She suffered a variety of unpleasant symptoms: constant fatigue, assorted physical deficiencies, fevers, nosebleeds, and oddly, strange dreams, a Tro^ian woman was unhappy and uncomfortable.

The physicians constantly monitored the pregnancy, continually tested the mother-to-be for nutrient absorption. They administered potions and aids for her many disabling symptoms.

Fortunately for her, the child within was of little bother. Calm and quiet, it didn’t add to her difficulties.

Gian watched his small human angel empty the second plate. Pain from deep inside welled in his chest and choked him up. She was so lovely. So frail.

A vision of Malana towered in his mind. With her platinum blond hair and no particularly alluring features, she was typical of his kind. Studious and quiet, she appeared normal in every way. Very traditional and always working, Malana was a credit to her field.

Yet, she’d violated Tro^ian custom not once, but twice. First, in Chambers, when she announced her intention to divorce without having undergone the usual two year counseling by the Elders. And again, when she broke from the standard courtship time period of a year to rebond to another man within four months. And even again, a third time, when she bore a child twelve months later. Malana had lost the privilege of his status through annulment, and then stepped further backwards in status by marrying Seneb. They couldn’t afford the down time her pregnancy required.

And surprisingly, the man she mated to had been the same one who’d produced the experimental warp flector that had malfunctioned on his ship.

Gian had been mystified by her actions for a long time. Only now, as he gained experience living with humans and their crazy politics, did he begin to wonder what Malana might have been up to when she hacked his life and reputation to bits, starting with the sudden divorce.

Heart pounding in confusion, Gian savored the sight of his stressed mate. The past months he’d worried to exhaustion. After all, every single pregnancy side effect Angel had was more consistent with a woman carrying a Tro^ian child than a human child. Or a half Tro^ian child? But it couldn’t be possible, could it?

Considering Malana’s strange behavior, had she found some secret way to prevent conception in order to have a reason to divorce him? Had her mischief doomed Angel to failing health and an uncertain fate?

"I’m sorry, the number you’ve dialed is no longer in service," a pleasant, recorded male voice said with almost inappropriate cheer.

Angel rolled her eyes and let the receiver drop from between her fingers into the phone cradle with a crash.

For the past week, Kristen hadn’t answered her office number or home phone, and today, that greeting?

Stirring uneasily in her office chair, Angel rubbed her mountain of a belly and sighed. The child within was also a lost member of the family. Only once in seven months had it moved and that was to forcefully kick her last week when her temper ran amuck. Other than that, this little one was more like a ghost than a baby with two months to go before birth. Angel wouldn’t be surprised if delivery day came, and instead of the tiny carbon copy of Eric she expected to emerge, her belly would simply deflate as the bodiless soul within returned to the spirit world it came from. This was a strange stoic child.

A portent for the future?

Petulant, Angel stared out the large alcove window at the cold February day. The tweny-seventh. Twenty-one days since the twins seventeenth birthday. One day past Gian’s one-year anniversary since his arrival at her quarries that cold winter night. Nine weeks from the delivery of the baby she’d conceived with her ex-husband.

And now, the first full week since Kristen had been gone. The naked stems of her rose bushes swayed back and forth in the light, variable winds. She remembered them in their full blooming glory of last summer and longed for warm weather. For a moment, when the rush of the blowing wind against the window ceased, the silence of her office was so complete all she could hear was the faint beat of her heart.

Angel swiveled the chair and rested her arms on the desktop. Deep in thought, she fiddled with her pen, studying her careful notes from this week’s investigation of her errant best friend. What now? Kristen had vacated the apartment she’d lived in for nearly ten years now. But was Angel supposed to allow Kristen to disappear and stay gone? That was hardly a reasonable option. Kristen had gone to great lengths to piss everyone off before she left. Was that to make sure they didn’t want to look for her?

Fat chance. Angel was a better friend than to do that.

Angel thought of the facts and figures from her business, as Kristen had left it. What was she to do now?

In the distance, a door clapped shut. She listened to the quietness that followed. Quickly, an uneven gait of heavy footfalls grew closer and louder. A smile of anticipation broke across her face, her teeth pressed into her lower lip. Big and burly Prince Charming was looking for her. How very nice.

Gian’s broad, magnetic presence filled the doorway, his head almost brushing the top of it, Angel decided that if he was a typical Tro^ian man, then buildings on his homeworld had to be scaled larger than this standard colonial home.

His squared face was bright, his eyes twinkling with fortune. "Angel, youu must come with mme. Aye will carry youu if need be."

His enthusiasm brought her instantly to her feet before she realized she moved. "You’re beaming, what’s happened?"

With big strides he was at her side, looming over her. "What is about to happen." He scooped her up and cradled her in strong arms. "Aye am glad youu are fully dressed. Not much time before the event begins."

"I can walk by myself, dearest."

Gian shrugged. "Youu need the rest and Aye can always use the exercise." He carefully maneuvered out the door and into the hall.

"Yes, I was just thinking about how you’ve filled out," she told him affectionately.

"There’s no time for that, Angel."

Looping her arm around his neck, she smiled as they entered the kitchen. "What a pity."

"Aye am consistently amazed at youur appetite." He set her on her feet and draped her heavy cloak over her shoulders.

"My appetite? Who was it that just had to do it that last time last night?"

He chuckled. Making short work of the frog closures, he set the heavy rim of the hood over her hairline. Reaching in the cubby, he pulled out her fur-lined gloves and handed them to her. "It’s not so bone chilling cold today."

Angel pulled on one glove. "Well, then, since you tolerate winter so badly, that means it’s rather warm despite the breeze. Why are we in such a rush? You’re so bubbly with excitement. Where are you taking me?"

"The stables." Gian shut the door behind them and locked it. Before she could take a step on her own, he picked her up again and carried her down the stone walk.

As he hurried her into his truck, she grimaced with frustration. "But you didn’t say why," she asked as he shut the door.

He slid into his seat, a big smile lighting up his entire face. "The Friesian that was special-ordered arrived yesterday. Today is sale day."

Angel shrugged. "Big deal. We run a horse stable, we sell horses all the time. An average of fifteen sales a month since you took over."

Gian laughed softly under his breath and drove onto the driveway circle. "Ten minutes ago, William asked to make the sale."

Pride washed over Angel. "Oh, Gian, I love you for all your hard work as manager, but I am most thrilled that you’ve trained Will so quickly."

Gian’s expression mirrored contentment. "Hhe’s much like youu. Quiet and attentive while learning, then, when Aye least expect it, out comes fully developed wisdom and confidence, mastery all at once."

Already warm in her heavy winter cape, Angel cracked her window open. "Will I can imagine, but when was the last time I mastered anything?" she asked, thoughts occupied with Kristen.

Gian drove under the archway of the tall wrought iron gates. "The past months youu have been extraordinary."

"Then you don’t disapprove of our rigorous schedule of intimacy, do you?" She shot him a knowing smile.

"Aye wasn’t thinking about that," he said wryly. "Aye meant how youu’ve changed. Youu finally found contentment in who youu are, Angel."

"Well, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an unintended insult."

Gian’s face reflected his burst of regret. "Aye mean in a very spiritual way, Angel, above the gentle wisdom youu’ve always had."

"I’m glad I decided to tease you. Out came an even nicer compliment."

He gave a mocking frown that quickly upturned into a radiant smile. "Aye hope Will hasn’t started yet. Aye want to watch himm work."

"You’re sweet," she murmured, as they passed by the admin. barn. Angel smiled contentedly as they reached the bottom of the long hill. His pride was fatherly. What a pity he couldn’t be one. Her mind turned to business. "You realize that while Kristen precisely prepared the new season’s line and made the manufacturing arrangements into spring, I still have a business to run all by myself now. Kristen left town because she was starting to show her pregnancy, I’m more sure of it than ever."

Gian grumbled something under his breath. "It’s not mine."

"I know, you’ve said that before."

He offered a guilty glance. Steering right at the second paddock road, he slowed the truck. "Youu often ruminate on negative images, Angel."

"And you refuse to ruminate at all, dearest. Not once in a whole year now have I ever been able to get you to speak freely about your former life. You will give facts when I insist, but never do you return in your mind, and give full mental images. It’s as if you can’t bear it. Repressing painful feelings doesn’t make them go away."

Gian slowed his truck to a crawl and pulled into a parking place beside a stable truck, at the front fence of the lesser used sale ring. He shut it off and twisted to face her. His curled fingers brushed across the middle of her forehead and temple. "Aye don’t repress painful feelings, they are always with mme."

"Well, perhaps. But you refuse to talk about the coincidence that the man your former wife remarried was also the one who equipped your craft with the part that failed. That’s a very nasty coincidence, don’t you think? Worth talking about?"

A shadow of disbelief swept over Gian’s strong featured face. "Aye will help youu run youur business."

"I knew you’d offer. I gratefully accept. Oh! I see a horse being led around the corral, Will’s sale has already begun."

Angel refused to be carried this time in front of everyone here at the compound. She looped her arm around his for support. Excitement twinkled in his eyes. Her heartbeat fluttered affectionately. But by the time they neared the gate, Angel could hear the edge of affront in the buyer’s voice as he spoke. Ugh. This wasn’t good. He and Will had their backs to her, so she quickly studied the horse being lead around for flaws or color defects. Looked like class to her.

"Yes, this is exactly what I ordered, William, but because of the shipping foul-up, this mare was ten days late."

"I understand your frustration. But unfortunately, the extra time was beyond our control. I do apologize, especially since it was supposed to be a gift for your daughter."

Buyer, seller and Lyndon turned with the fine Friesian mare as it was walked in a large circle by the gate. Will looked more vexed than worried, his thick dark brows knitted, his brown eyes glittering with irritation. Angel’s hand tightened over Gian’s arm as the tension grew. She prayed that Lyndon wouldn’t have to step in or take over if Will surrendered to the grip of his Eric-like impatience.

The man in the fine pinstripe suit complained, "At first, I was told to expect the mare well on time. Then four days before her birthday, I was informed of the two week delay. Rebecca hid her disappointment well, but she shouldn’t have had to."

Will nodded. "I agree completely."

Angel swallowed hard. She knew what Will should do, but did Will know what he should do? God, please don’t make Lyndon have to step in…

Will shrewdly eyed the black mare. His lips pursed and hands went to his hips. For a moment, Angel feared his Eric-like posturing would doom his first sale.

He turned to face his buyer, his expression determined and looking like a carbon copy of his father at work. "I was already prepared to reimburse the rush fee you paid, Martin, but I’ll give you a twenty percent discount on the sale price for the trouble you were put through. It was inexcusable." Will extended his hand.

The older man flustered, his face going slack as he stared. "That’s very generous, William, very generous." His hand shot out.

The deal was finished with a firm, friendly handshake.

Angel sagged with relief. Gian grunted with satisfaction. Even Lyndon seemed to breathe easier, relief relaxing his face slowly as Martin Talbot walked over to his daughter’s new horse.

Will fixed a cautious, testing stare on Gian.

Gian smiled warmly and nodded with approval.

Will’s face transformed into bright confidence. He even straightened a few millimeters higher.

Angel fought happy tears, but lost. She was laughing and tearing as Will approached. Her tall, nearly grown son looked at her the way he did when he was younger, those times he needed her to endorse him.

"I’m so proud of you," she whispered. Opening her arms, she gave him the closest hug she could because of her belly. "You’re a natural, Will."

"Thanks, Mom." He responded with casual politeness, but when he stepped back, even she could see his relief and pride.

Gian clasped Will’s outstretched hand and shook firmly. "Good work," he praised. "Martin walks away happy, sure to tell about hiss good experience with the Wright Stables."

Will laughed caustically, shaking Lyndon’s outstretched hand. "Don’t think we’re going to take the financial hit. Graaslunde Stables handled the deal badly. Shipping foul-ups happen, but lately they’ve been terrible. They were incompetent as hell with the mare. They’ve already received my demand for the shipping fee and the discount I gave Martin."

Angel’s eyes went round. "You planned to give the discount?"

Will gave a birdlike look of surprise. "Martin Talbot is known for his toughness in sales and I knew he was already pissed. But, I didn’t want to offer it unless it was necessary."

"Oh, Will." For the first time in his life, Angel noticed the Wright fullness in his face and the kindly set of his eyes that reminded her of her father. "I’ve always felt terrible for being the one to end the three century dynasty of the Stables. You have no idea how much your interest in the family trade means to me," her voice broke.

"Ah, gee, Mom, don’t cry."

Angel laughed a watery sound. "I’m happy. I’m very happy, and very proud, Will. Very proud of you."

Will gave an Eric-like toss of his head and blew on his nails. Rubbing them on his shirt, he grinned. "Thank you, thank you, but good business depends on good organization, not luck, or even talent."

Lyndon smiled wryly. "That sounds just like the manager, doesn’t it, Angel?"

Will frowned at the jab only someone close to the family would understand. "Come on, lighten up on Dad, Lyndon. So, he’s a little jealous about my working here, but he’s been real good about leaving Mom alone lately. Sam’s with him right now at the office, poring over endless, boring columns of numbers and financial percentages, thrilled together. He’s happy for that."

Angel seized the moment she’d waited a week for. "Kristen mentioned talking to you two about your father."

Will jerked one big shoulder. "I wish someone had mentioned it sooner. She told us to stop him from being mean since we are the only ones he listens to. So, we gave Dad a bunch of demands about the way that he should treat you, Mom, and he’s obeyed them. I respect him for it, a lot; I know how hard it is for him. Sometimes I think he’s going to explode when he holds it all in." Will smirked briefly, but his face grew serious again. "I still want him to apologize for hitting you, Gian. He had no right. Either time. I wanted you to know that we still expect Dad to say it someday."

Gian dropped his gaze, his expression marked with surprise. Grateful surprise. "Thank youu," he barely whispered.

"Hey, look, even Dasan and Asha came to congratulate me," Will kidded, pointing.

The huge former sadsack Belgian horse and his faithful companion stood quietly together less than ten feet behind them on the road, watching intelligently as usual. Gian had more than a gentle way with the ‘beasts’, these two horses followed him around like faithful dogs. In the sparing sunlight, their thick winter coats had a healthy sheen. Both horses were full bodied and strong, no trace of bones showing, no sagging heads, but mostly, no defeated spirits anymore.

Angel smiled at Gian. "Your pals for life. Dasan follows you everywhere. Even busts down gates if he can’t open them. Imagine that, beasts, infatuated with you."

Gian gave the two fine animals a long appraisal. "Aye am infatuated with them," was all he said in a soft voice.

A sense of resolution swept over Angel and she absorbed the peaceful feeling as it vibrated in her body and mind. "You know, this day may have started a little rocky, but it certainly has rounded out well. I have a wonderful idea, Will, how about if we have an open house buffet in celebration of your stunning success, and preparedness for your buyer’s personality? Would you like that?"

"Yeah. I would. But isn’t that too much work for you, Mom?"

Angel adored his little boy smile and enthusiasm. "This will be a catered affair, Will, feel free to invite whomever you please."

A serious moment of thought overtook him and whatever he was musing about, a sense of hope twinkled in his eyes. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I’ll do that, Mom. I have a phone call to make right now."

Will turned and hurried off. As he passed by the corral, he neared the fence where the buyer communed with his new horse, stroking its mane and neck. "Martin, good doing business with you, I hope the mare works out. If you want to discuss the idea we spoke about, I’m willing."

"Expect to hear from me then, Will."

Hand fisted in victory in front of him, Will continued down the road towards the admin. barn.

Lyndon chuckled and shot Gian a knowing glance. "You want to bet that first call is to Taylor?"

Gian murmured positively. Angel studied both men. "I thought that cooled down over the holidays, didn’t it?" she asked, irritated that she was uniformed about her own son’s life. "They even ‘broke up’. Didn’t they?"

Gian shook his head very slightly. "Only from public and parental view, Angel."

Angel gave him owl eyes. "What do you know that I don’t?"

Lyndon glanced around them. His arms crossed over his barrel chest. "Remember how quickly they got serious last summer?"

"Yes, I was rather relieved that they cooled down...well, they didn’t have to break up... "

Gian looped his arm around her and drew her close against him. "Thhey didn’t break up. Gone secret with the relationship."

Lyndon bent closer. "It’s serious. They hushed it up when you and her parents offered their misgivings, just before Christmas. I talked with them a few months ago, and make no mistake, they were quite pleased to have William Wright-Stevenson as a suitor to their daughter. But they’re concerned that both are only seventeen."

Angel stared into Gian’s eyes. His face was impassive. There was more coming. "What?"

"Aye believe that..." Gian looked around their surroundings. "That...Aye have gleaned from Will’s comments and hiss questions, that..." His cheeks flushed.

Lyndon groaned. "Angel, I don’t know where you found such an old virgin. Ignore him. What he’s trying to say is that we believe Taylor," he stopped and glanced around before continuing, "may have recently deflowered the young man." Lyndon drove his meaning home with a solid stare and a raised brow.

Will? Her second-born son? Pretty, wholesome Taylor Hubbard flashed through her mind. Will and Taylor? Having sex? Angel touched her pregnant stomach and agonized over the crummy example she’d set for her sons.

"Tell me you aren’t that surprised, Angel." Lyndon peered down affectionately. "As a grandfather and a great grandfather, I’ve gone around the block quite a few times. Seventeen is a very reasonable age, for today’s kids."

Angel gasped. "Are you trying to make me feel better, or worse?"

Lyndon spread his arms helplessly. "They’re young, but what can you do about it? If you forbid them to see each other, you risk them marrying much, much sooner out of spite than they might otherwise."

Angel tried to speak, but only a gust of air came out of her mouth.

Gian offered an understanding smile. "Will has begun pursuing the duties of a man with the purposeful drive of one. Whatever hiss reasons, hhe has decided to step fully into manhood, Angel. Now come, Aye want to get youu out of the cold. Lyndon, will youu please put Dasan and Asha in the corral so thhey don’t get hit by a car?"

"No problem. I’ll see you two up at the house later. Get Swedish meatballs. I love Swedish meatballs, and…"

"Aye know, mashed potatoes."

Lyndon gave Gian a bittersweet smile and walked off.

Speechless and shocked, Angel went with Gian wordlessly. She offered a wave and polite smile to Martin Talbot as they passed by. By the time she reached the truck, an ache low in her back stole her focus. Straightening her spine, she gave a small moan.

"Angel!" Gian scooped her up. "Are youu all right? Aye worried about telling youu because youu might become upset."

The stretched position of her back helped. She whispered gruffly, "Damn right I’m upset. My son! My god, can you imagine if Taylor ends up pregnant? I’ll have a baby and a grandchild at the same time, how embarrassing. Not to mention the end of their own short childhood? Surely he’s using protection, isn’t he?"

Gian’s cheeks flushed again. At his truck, he let her slide down to the frozen ground slowly. "Aye have not approached himm that directly, Angel."

When he closed her door, she played the waiting game again. When he climbed behind the wheel, Angel studied him. "And I thought my only real worry was to have the business to run all by myself."

Gian laughed softly. "Aye will help youu, worry not. Just as Aye will with the arrangements for the celebration today."

Angel huffed and slumped against the back of her seat. "Mighty kind of the Lord to send me a man capable of organizing all the messes in my life. Oh, Gian, what am I supposed to do about Will?"

Backing out of the space, Gian headed down the side road. "Lyndon’s correct, what can youu do? And Aye am surprised at youur reaction. The goddess of love and sex shocked that herr nearly full-grown son is in love? Is Will’s luck in finding love early, a ‘mess’, Angel?"

Angel rolled her eyes in defeat. Looking out the window, she watched endless sections of white fence go by. "You sound convinced he’s thinking forever, Gian," she said dismally.

"Is thinking forever, Angel. At least, hhe’s planning financial and personal goals as if hhe is. Building a portfolio, working hard to establish a good reputation. Those are signs a man is thinking about taking a wife."

"And here I am again, taking you from your work. You’ve spent my entire pregnancy at my side. I’d be thrilled except I feel guilty for monopolizing your time."

"Maye place is at youur side, Angel. Aye have been relying heavily on Lyndon and Danny, and now Will, but once youu have youur baby and get strong again, Aye can resume fuller duty."

"I’m not weak, Gian."

"Yes, youu are. Youu still spend most hours of youur day off youur feet or napping. Aye am sorry for that."

She rolled her head against the cushion to look at him. "Several times you’ve inferred that you’re responsible. Is there something you aren’t telling me?"

Gian gave her a bland smile and shook his head.

Angel let the moment go. Will and his possible sex life monopolized her thoughts, but she couldn’t bear it for the moment without going crazy. Instead, she remembered the meeting she’d had with Kristen in the restaurant. "I can’t let Kristen disappear like this. It’s not safe, especially if she’s pregnant.

Gian pulled into the parking space by her Jeep. He turned off his truck and relaxed in his seat. "Shhe was very cruel to youu. Youu will forgive herr?"

"Do you still care for Malana, despite her mean ways?"

"Aye remember herr good qualities. And the times spent in peaceful research together. But shhe betrayed mme. What other intent than to humiliate mme? Aye wish Aye could ask herr why, but Aye don’t care in the way Aye once did."

The hard steely glow in his eyes proved his words. Angel hoped never to earn that cold regard herself. "I understand."

"And Aye understand that youu will always care for himm. Hhe is a sociopath at times, youu do realize that?"

Angel’s sad laugh turned into a soft groan at a flash memory of the forceful lovemaking that created her child. "Yes, I know, he is. I wonder if he knows about Kristen. I wonder if he knows about Will."

"What do youu intend to do concerning Will?"

"I don’t know, Gian. You and Lyndon are right. If Will is sexually involved with Taylor... God, I can barely say it, let alone believe it."

"It’s not for certain."

Angel snorted. "No, you’re sure or you wouldn’t have said anything. I can’t put him under house arrest and watch him every second of the day and night. He’s nearly a man, I have to accept that. If he and Taylor are that involved, I can only hope he’s smart about it. At least until I can figure out what to do. But I certainly plan to be more open to her if she shows up today. I choose to be silent and informed rather than loud and left out." Angel yawned. "I knew this day would come, I just hoped not so soon."

Gian leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Aye believe William has sense. Is level-headed and determined to follow the Wright legacy, personally and professionally, Angel."

"I hope so," Angel scoffed. "Is this how my parents felt when I was dating Eric? Look what I did to them. And the twins were seven weeks premature, too, which made my sudden marriage even more scandalous to them. We have a saying on this planet, ‘Paybacks are hell’, and they sure are." Resigned, Angel sighed and moved on. "If I’m going to organize this gathering, I’d best get to it."

"Aye will bring youu inside, get youu settled in bed. While youu decide on the menu for the gathering, Aye will prepare youu a snack. Then Aye will take youur list and make the appropriate phone calls while youu eat. That is ouur plan."

Angel brushed her curled fingers along his forehead and temple, returning his loving gesture. "I’ve become a better person because you are in my life, I want you to know that."

A shy smile toyed with his mouth. "Thank youu. Aye am better for having youu. Youu not only opened youur home to mme, a man from another world, but generously youu’ve taught mme many wonderful customs and traditions that Aye am eternally grateful for."

"Especially the sex, right?" she teased and tilted her head invitingly.

"Mmm." Gian leaned closer and cupped her cheek.

His exquisitely soft, tender kiss scattered all of Angel’s troubles. She slid her palm up his hard arm and wound her fingers up in the thick hair piled on his shoulder. Even her toes curled inside her moccasin boots. Each of her breaths drew in his clean, softly sweet scent. Her defenses weakening, a long sigh from deep inside rolled out.

Rubbing the tip of his nose on hers, he loosed a dreamy sound. "Aye love youu, Angel."

Her eyes closed and her forehead dropped to his cheek. For a few moments, Angel cuddled into his heat, absorbing him, listening to his long slow breaths. She could even hear the strong beat of his heart through his layers of clothes. It was a strong beat, slow, deliberate, powerful.

Angel almost dozed off in the heaven of his warmth and protection. But the sound of tires crunching over frozen gravel snapped her eyes open.

Gian released her and they stared out the slowly fogging windshield. He sighed ambivalently. "Good news, honey, Samuel’s home."

Eric parked his Seville in the space near to the walkway. Angel felt all of her troubles swoop back down in her like a suffocating blanket.

Pouting, she imagined Eric making love to Kristen the way he used to do to her. Did they have a rawhide tie as a souvenir tucked in a nightstand drawer? Did they moan sweet things to each other as they conceived the child Kristen carried?

She shoved her jealousy aside when Samuel got out of the car. A flash image of her seventeen-year-old son and his seventeen-year-old girlfriend naked and in bed together forced a helpless surge through her chest. Did Samuel know what his brother was doing, and keeping the secret, as well?

Most likely... she fumed with impotent frustration.

Angel’s jaw worked as she watched Eric get out as well. "I don’t know if I should talk to Eric about it. No matter what, I’m sure to get mad at him, either because he’ll blow up at Will, or for giving me that proud racy smile I hate so much when he learns what his son is up to. I have two lousy choices with him, as usual. Tell me, Gian, out of two lousy choices, which one do I pick?"

Anxious, Angel watched Eric circle around the shrinking group of young people gathered at the den hearth. He stopped by the reading desk near the wallshelves and leaned against it, casually sipping a Long Island ice tea. He appeared as if deep in thought.

But all afternoon and evening, Angel moved around the house, following Eric, watching him scrutinize Will and Taylor. Always his expressions were calm and unconcerned, but she saw his cues. Dark eyes often were steely and aggressive, his jaw worked almost constantly. She could almost hear him grumble whenever the pair gazed adoringly at each other.

About eight forty, cozy on the loveseat with Gian in close attendance behind her at the work desk, Angel depicted an ease she didn’t necessarily feel.

"I gotta be home with the car by nine, Will," one of his friends said.

"We’ll walk you out," Will said with a polite tone. His hand slid to the small of Taylor’s back and just as quickly fell away. For a moment, he seemed lost what to do with it. Giving Taylor a dreamy smile, he gestured towards the door.

There was a sweet twinkle in the young woman’s eyes. As the group left the room in a flurry of excited conversation and muffled laughter, Eric shot Angel a dark look.

Angel murmured a small prayer.

In the silence of the room, Eric stood up. One hand slid into his pocket, he took a long leisurely drink, glancing towards the door cautiously before he spoke. "How the hell long has that been going on, Angel?"

Her fingers dug into the purple throw in her lap. "I guess for a while."

Eric’s head bobbed with aggression. "And when were you going to tell me?"

Gian grumbled impatiently. Looking up from his pile of files, he gave Eric a cross look.

"Just go back to your papers, professor. Or better yet, leave us alone to talk privately about our son."

Gian scoffed and tossed his pen down. His big arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in the chair with kingly authority. "If shhe wishes it, Angel will tell mme to leave."

Eric raised one brow at her, his face a mirror of growing ire. "Tell himmm to leave." As an afterthought, he added through tight lips, "Please."

"Whether you like it or not, Eric, Gian is the only one Will talks to lately, so don’t add more crap onto the pile of troubles we have already."

Danger flashed in Eric’s eyes. "How dare you keep this from me."

"I only found out today, just after his sale. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do."

Eric laughed caustically. "It’s a little late to do anything, Angel, don’t you think? It’s clear enough that they’re intimate. We’re going to talk to him, tonight."

"What are we supposed to say that he will listen to? You’re his father, isn’t anything said better coming from you?"

Eric took another deep drink, eyeing her over the rim of the tall narrow glass. "Is it this queasy reaction that prevented you from taking action in the first place?"

Angel averted her eyes, uncomfortable that she was so naked to him. "I told you I found out only today. I haven’t seen them together since before Christmas. I thought they’d broken up, the same as you."

Foiled, Eric glared at Gian. "And you felt no sense of responsibility to tell Angel what you knew?"

Gian stood, returning Eric’s cold regard. "Curious question coming from a man who has ordered mme to ‘butt out’ as far as the children go."

There was a long brittle silence. A cold knot formed in Angel’s stomach. With a shaky hand she set down her milk glass on the nearby tray. "If the two of you launch into a fight, I swear I’ll fall to pieces."

Gian relaxed the tight pull of his shoulders and sat down on the arm of the loveseat. "There will be no fighting," he assured her, then gave Eric a pointed look, "unless hhe hits mme first."

"I’d certainly like to, believe me, but I won’t, Angel. Only because I’m worried about you. You look like hell, skinny, exhausted, hollows under your eyes."

"God! I wish you’d all just relax. I’m fine. I’m just tired, thank you. Four doctors even agree, so let’s talk about our current problem, okay? And what’s happened to the delightful Dr. Jekyll personality you’ve had lately?"

"Well, when I come to the rude realization that Will is having sex with his girlfriend, AND that this chump didn’t bother to tell you until today, what do you expect?"

Angel’s heart beat to a higher pace against her ribs. "Stop, someone will hear you, Eric."

Eric’s grip was white-knuckled around the glass. "When did you plan to talk to William?"

Angel’s cheeks flushed. "When I thought of something constructive to say?"

Frowning darkly for a moment, Eric stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what she said. "Fine, I’ll handle it then. Right now."

Angel gasped when he turned towards the door. "Eric, please!" Her arm went out as if to grab him back, but she dropped it self-consciously when William stopped in the doorway and gave his father a suspicious look. Swallowing hard, Angel struggled to swallow the constriction in her throat.

"Both of you come in here and shut the doors," Eric growled.

Will obeyed, quietly closing them without a sound. He seemed to sense his father’s cool scrutiny and stepped protectively in front of Taylor.

Angel gave Gian a helpless look, her shaky hand inching across the empty cushion towards him.

Gian slid into the loveseat with her and cradled her cold fingers in his and rubbed them.

Staring at Will, Eric swallowed the last of his drink. "Are you at least using protection when you’re having sex with her?"

Taylor’s mouth hung open and she shrunk further behind Will. Will’s confidence flustered, his chin slightly raised. His cheeks flushed.

Impatient, Eric spread his arms. "Yes? No?"

Will’s gaze dropped modestly.

Eric slammed his glass down on the tabletop. "YES OR NO?"

Cheeks flushing with more color, Will met his father’s angry glare. "Yes."

Eric smiled without a trace of humor. "Well, at least we have that to reassure ourselves about. What a relief."

Will’s eyes glistened.

Taking deliberate, predatory steps around them, Eric focused intently on Taylor. By the time he came face to face with Will again, her eyes were filled with tears of humiliation that slowly meandered down her cheeks.

Eric gave them both a deprecating look. "Sex is an adult’s pastime. Not something we find embarrassing to discuss. Why are you acting like two children caught being naughty?"

"What do you want me to say?" Will said with a tremor lacing his brave voice.

Eric invaded his son’s private space and stepped close, nearly nose to nose. "I assume, since you are making love to her, that you have active plans to marry her? Have you asked her parents for their consent yet?"

Will visibly shook where he stood. "I’ll marry her."

"How chivalrous." Eric frowned. "Then I assume by that answer, there is no current plan in the works?"

"No, Sir."

Huffing, Eric distanced himself a few steps, then halted, turning to Will again. "You should know that the act of sex is notorious for creating babies," he said sarcastically. "Many responsible married couples using protection are now raising children they created by accident. How will you take care of the child you may have already conceived? Is your current job paying you enough to support a home for your pregnant wife, Will? Surely, I’ve taught you better than to expect your wife to work? That’s your job. Or were you planning to live at home?"

Will opened his mouth to speak, but only a gust of air came out.

Eric raised both brows in challenge. "What? No plan on that either? I expect better from you, William."

Will faltered again, speechless.

Eric sidestepped until he could see Taylor cowering behind him. "And you? Your college plans? Or were you going to postpone your education Veterinary medicine until the child is grown? And possibly even postpone high school graduation to take care of a demanding infant? What caliber of mother will that make you?"

Taylor stared owl eyed at Eric, her lower lip trembling.

Eric smiled curtly. "I see, no plans on your end either. This isn’t very adult of either one of you. Having sex is easy. It’s a blast. But affording marriage and family is serious business."

Will’s hurt was naked in his eyes. "We’ll marry if that’s what you want. There’s never been anyone for me but Taylor, even in grade school. I want to marry her."

"It’s not what I want, it’s what’s right. Unfortunately, since you chose to put the chance of a baby before the slightest ability to support it, it’s time to grow up fast." He stared at Will with steel-eyed harshness. "I worked hard to raise the Stevenson name out of the gutter around this town, even though I’ve been known to kick it back in there once or twice. I’ll be damned if you’ll sully my effort, or the Wright name that you should be honored to bear, with an unplanned pregnancy while you are still in high school. I refuse to deal with the scandal. There will be no marriage until you are at least eighteen. Is that clear?"

Will nodded stiffly. "Yes, Sir."

"If you want the support of your family and your name, you will pursue and complete your education. You will engage in this relationship, openly. You and she will appear to be pillars of virtue, as expected by the weight of your family names. No other way will you receive all the trusts and inheritances waiting for you. I’ll see to it. You may defiantly claim that you don’t need or want the money, but remember the quality of life you’re used to. Don’t doom your wife and children to life without it for the sake of pure stubbornness. Are we clear on the ground rules?"

"Yes, Sir," Will said obediently, but the edge of irritation was in his tone.

Eric’s face hardened even more. "Have something to say, Will?"

Sweat was beaded on Will’s furry upper lip. "I don’t like being treated like a criminal. We love each other."

"I’m not treating you like a criminal. I’m treating you like a man. Trying to make sure you don’t muddy our reputations with your foolishness. Don’t conceive out of wedlock. You’ll never live down the scandal of an unplanned pregnancy between two seventeen year olds from prominent families. The town will talk about you for decades to come, no matter how much you achieve. Believe me, I know all about that," Eric snapped painfully.

"Are you going to tell her parents?"

Eric laughed. "I plan to talk to Jack as soon as possible."

Taylor cried out and darted from behind Will. "Mr. Stevenson, no! Please!"

"Oh, absolutely I will, Miss Hubbard." He looked at his watch. "As soon as we are finished, as a matter of fact. It’s never too late for something as serious as this." He gave Will a sharp glance. "You chose an adult activity that often causes dramatic life-changing situations as nothing else can. Try to bear the next painful steps of manhood with the grace I’ve come to expect of you. Now go. I have to talk to your mother."

Will shot Angel a shattered look that wrenched her heart in her chest. Torn by her own raging emotions, she fought the abiding urge to comfort him. She gave only a curt nod to back Eric up. Will’s tortured gaze flicked to Gian.

There was an exquisite blend of compassion and sternness on his Tro^ian face.

Will sucked in a dramatic breath that puffed his chest. Grabbing Taylor’s hand, he hurried out of the den, pulling her after him.

Eric stood with his back to them, his face icy cold and tight. "Shut the door behind you."

After the quiet latch of the door, Angel glared at him. "Is that all that matters, reputation and money?" she hissed irately.

Eric burst alive with emotion, scoffing a watery sound. He fought honest tears that glittered in his eyes. "It was all that was left to use, Angel," he croaked hoarsely. "They are sure to have a completely new perspective of lovemaking next time they start undressing each other, aren’t they? Or were you hoping to simply avoid the problem by refusing to deal with it?"

Angel flinched. She brushed away the free flowing tears down her cheeks. "If you’d bothered to discuss the matter with me, we might have found a less traumatic way of confronting the issue. After all, we didn’t set much of an example for our children."

"There was no other way, and our situation was different. Not only were we both graduated from high school and pursuing our careers, I was nineteen and completely prepared to support you financially in a manner nearing you were accustomed to. I worked hard to achieve that."

"I know, but despite your admirable readiness, it was still a scandal, Eric."

"I know! I’d hate to watch my son follow in my footsteps that way. We can argue about this another day if you like. I have to go talk to Jack and Elizabeth. God damn, I hope Will was being honest when he said they used protection. I don’t want to watch my son go through that kind of negative public scrutiny," he whispered sadly. "And he would, because he bears my name. Well, he is a Stevenson...they’ll say. Only yours will save him from disrespect. Your solid family name was the only thing that spared you, Angel."

Though Angel brimmed over with pride for Eric’s mastery of the delicate situation, she burned to make him experience the horrible vulnerability Will had trembled with a few moments ago. "Eric, don’t go just yet, I have something to tell you."

He turned at the door and glared impatiently. "Can it wait?"

Angel shook her head. Adrenaline rushed through her body, prickling across her skin. Her fist tightened around the blanket in her lap. "I know how you dislike waiting for important news."

Eric paused, staring. Then his arms spread. "What? It’s getting late."

"Kristen."

A painful shadow swept over his face. "What about her?"

Angel sensed volumes in his receptive response. "She’s disappeared."

"She’s a grown woman. It’s only been a week."

"She’s in love with you," she said softly.

Eric laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out myself the first time we... I suppose you knew about that, too, and didn’t bother to tell me?"

"I didn’t know!" The hurt and savagery in his eyes pulled out all of her jealous feelings. She struggled to breathe properly. "There’s more you may not know."

"What? That she flipped out, turned real bitchy?" he snapped, but his poignant expression bore his true feelings.

In that moment, Angel realized that Kristen had cruelly worked Eric over along with the rest of them, hurt him. Hoping to repel him from wanting to find her, too? Suddenly a sense of rightness filled her.

"I have to go, Angel," he said, his voice strained.

Angel stared deep into his soul, knowing when she next spoke she would be saying goodbye forever. Her eyes misted and stung and she swallowed the lump in her throat. "She’s pregnant."

Eric’s face paled and he drew back slightly in shock. "Are you sure?"

Terrible regrets assailed her. She shivered, torn to be sending him into another woman’s arms. "I’m sure. She took off because she was beginning to show."

Eric pondered that a moment, staring at her rounded stomach. Eyes glazing over with moisture, he twisted his head away when they began to drip down his face. "Yeah, that makes twisted sense. Bitch, she did it to me again," he whispered painfully.

Angel covered her mouth with a trembling hand. "Please find her and bring her home. She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this."

Eric dragged his gaze to hers. Her heart burst with anquish. He knew, too. That their story was over forever. They’d failed each other and had to live with that pain for the rest of their lives. Tall, dark and handsome Eric-the-Conqueror now belonged to another woman, just like Angel belonged to another man. Her eyes blurred. She fought the agonized cry that worked its way up her throat.

Eric flinched when a new flow of wetness streamed down his cheeks. "I’ll keep in touch," he murmured brokenly and walked out the door.

"Goodbye, baby," she whispered after him. Pain exploded inside Angel and the cry she’d been holding down flew out of her mouth with a watery sob that seemed to have no end.

Strong arms wrapped around her like a thick protective blanket. Angel clung to the safety and heat while she wept her heart out. She wasn’t sure how long she cried. Minutes? Hours? Days? She was aware that when she finally stood up, her whole body went rubbery. If Gian hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen to the floor in a heap.

~ * ~

Lying comfortably in her bed under the crisp, clean smelling covers, Angel focused on the gentle drone of voices hovering over her. The world was going on without her; she wanted to wake up. Today was warm; she could smell the promise of spring blowing over her face on the gusty breezes coming through the open window across the room. Behind her, the bed sank down as a very large person sat beside her. A warm, loving hand swept through the hair draped over her face as she lay on her side. Gently, this caregiver smoothed it over her shoulder. Another waved a fragrant cup of tea near her nose.

"Angel, time to eat something again," Ramona’s voice gently prodded her.

In a strange, substanceless space, Angel gently swirled and whirled, half captive, half willing. And she wasn’t alone; she shared this strange place with a serious, stoic, yet happy presence.

Her baby.

But today, something was different. The sweet, inquisitive little spirit was slowly receding into the nothingness. Without knowing why, Angel understood that the last intense growth spurt was finally over. And the mystical bonding between mother and daughter was complete.

The tea roused Angel enough to open her eyes. She blinked against the fogginess of the images, sniffing deeply of the aromatic herbal blend.

Suddenly, she catapulted wake. Turning onto her back, she struggled to sit up. Hands gripped everywhere, guiding her against a soft stack of pillows.

"Angel?" a soft, low, sweet voice beckoned. "Are youu feeling well?"

The saddened set to Gian’s face dragged a loving murmur from deep inside her. She reached out and slid soft fingertips along his cheek. "What happened this time?"

Raw emotion darkened his expression. "You’ve spent the last two and a half weeks bedridden again. Don’t youu remember?"

"No. Yes. Sort of. I remember things from days gone by, but nothing clearly. At least right now."

At the nightstand, Ramona fussed with her tincture bottles on her tray. "Gian have her drink the tea before she eats." She flashed a cheery smile at Angel. "You’ve been with us the whole time. Talking, watching boring religious documentaries with your husband, drawing a few designs here and there. Sleeping a lot. Growing very heavy with child. You don’t remember any of it?"

Angel sipped from the teacup Gian held poised. "I remember hearing that I gained three pounds in a week. I remember standing on the scale."

Ramona frowned. "Yes, that happened. And right after I mentioned that you’d lost another 3% of your body fat. Seems the baby was the only one gaining."

"We’re fine. Why am I the only one who believes her and I are just fine? It’s been tough, but we’re fine. Geez." Angel drank the full cup, her stomach rumbling hungrily.

The silence in the room made her look up from the plate of fruit Gian had slid onto her lap. "What?" she asked the two troubled faces staring back.

Gian stared at her as if she had three heads. "Youu said, shhe."

"No, I said, she, not shhheee," she quipped. "She who?"

Ramona’s hand settled on her hip. "You said she, when referring to your baby. Sometimes mothers just know."

As Angel thought about it, a strange thrill ran through her. "Yes, I just know." She nodded at the news, then she welled with elation. Happy tears brimmed in her eyes. "I claimed all this time that I didn’t care, but secretly, I’ve been wishing for a girl. I have two sons. I want a daughter."

Every emotion but horror drained from Gian’s face. Then just as quickly, he masked it with a soft, contrived smile. "Congratulations. Aye am happy for youur wish come true."

Vexed with his facade, Angel sighed with resignation. "You’re still fretting unduly over my health. Am I not a good judge of my overall health?" she asked reasonably. "Ramona, aren’t I a good judge of my overall health?"

Ramona patted Gian’s shoulder compassionately. "She’s a good judge of her overall health. You do worry a little too much."

Angel gave him a winning smile. "See? It’s not unknown in history for some women," she mocked a southern accent, the back of her hand coming to rest dramatically on her forehead, "to be simply overwhelmed by the condition of pregnancy."

Gian was numb to her attempted humor. Waves of apprehension rippled through him. Tro^ian mothers always knew the gender of the child by the last few moon phases. The pair, mother and child within, established a spiritual connection. This combined with all of her other symptoms?

Was it possible Angel carried his child? Or did he envy Eric so much he wanted to believe it was?

Human mothers often knew, because of their great intuitive powers. Again, a stalemate. He was worrying too much. For Angel’s health, he would continue to pray that Malana hadn’t lied about his fertility to divorce him. How could she have prevented conceiving, anyway? Was that even possible on the homeworld? Birth control wasn’t an issue physicians wasted time researching.

"Gian, you hovered over me for days and days, and now that I am fully awake, you go off into a world of your own. Come back to me, darling. I miss you."

"Aye am sorry. Aye have been worried. Very much."

"I’m fine. Why are you still so glum? Are you having a premonition of doom that I should know about?"

He shook his head to ease her. "Please eat." Moving the tray closer to give her a comfortable reach, he offered a light smile and slid off the bed. He plopped into the easy chair he had crammed right to the bedside to be right near her at all times. "Youu have become even thinner," he complained.

Angel fiddled with the cut red rose in the little vase on the tray. "I’ll survive. I bet a lot of your worry is because all I ever do lately is eat and sleep. I’m going stir-crazy, too. I’ve always heard about confining pregnancies, but I never expected to experience one." She shifted a little to face him. Her dark paint eyelashes accentuated the stressed paleness of her skin. "I’ll be glad to get back on my feet." Her eyes went dusky and her smile seductive. "I do remember some very, very sweet lovemaking between us the past weeks."

Gian stared into her big blue eyes and contemplated sharing his worries. But there was no time if he’d decided to. From the corner of his eye, he saw William and Samuel peering cautiously into the room from the doorway. "Youu have visitors, Angel," he murmured, "Aye am not the only one who worries."

Angel gave her sons a big smile as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Motioning with her hand for them to come inside, she shoved the tray away from her. "Come in and see me." Her fingers splayed on her swelled belly. "What are you hiding behind your back, Samuel?"

He beamed and produced a bouquet of rich red roses. "Mom, these are the other eleven. Gian gave you one, six are from me, and five from faggot here," he said, jerking his head towards his brother.

Angel gave Samuel a dry look, her arms outstretched for the flowers. "Thank you! They’re beautiful. Now apologize for calling him a name."

"Sorry, faggot."

"Samuel!"

Gian couldn’t help but smile at the youthful antics. Or their mother’s cute affront. Even in his darkest moods, this trio of humans never failed to lift his spirits with the open love between them. He was honored to have the chance to watch, and belong. Gian imagined he understood Malana’s delight with his status, for gaining his stature by name was equal in significance to the marriage to Angel that brought him this affectionate family unit. He stood and walked around the bed. "Aye will put these in water for youu." Already prepared, Gian went to the vase on the other nightstand and slid the long stems into it. He ‘fluffed’ them the way Angel always did. Something about balance of the blooms. Stopping behind his chair, he rested his arms on the back, a silent witness to this ‘visit’.

Samuel chose one of the many guest seats. Will, sullen and clearly uncomfortable, stood, his hands jammed in his pants pockets.

Angel’s face was bright with love for her sons. "I’ve spent yet more of your lives sleeping, what else have I missed this time?"

"Mom," Samuel said solemnly, sliding to the edge of his seat, "this is scary. You’re just so...not well."

"I’m fine. Tired, but I’m fine. I feel like a broken record, I swear."

"Is this because, well, because, you’re…older?" Samuel’s face was so sincere.

Angel’s shoulders slumped, her expression bland. "Gee, thanks. I’m so glad you came by to cheer me up, dearest."

Samuel smirked at her playful jab. "Seriously, Mom."

"What’s so wrong with me? I see the same me in the mirror."

"Nah uh. You’re really skinny, Ma. Your face is all…stressed. Suddenly you’re stomach is huge. Is this a normal baby? Is there something you aren’t telling us?"

Angel stared in surprise for a moment. "No! I-am-fine," she insisted. "If I wasn’t, I’d tell you. Now let’s talk about something more pleasant. I insist." She patted the bed at her side. "William, sit next to me."

Obedient, he sat stiffly near her knee.

Angel reached out to him. "Will, move closer. Would you like to talk?"

William averted his eyes to their joined hands. "Do you think...less of me?" his voice ground out to a whisper.

Angel sighed deeply. "Of course not. Just concerned for your future. Is that what you’re worrying about?"

"Well, you’ve been awake, but not much for talking the past weeks."

"I know, I’m sorry, I can’t seem to help it." Angel offered her breadbasket to both of them. "Here, have a piece of sourdough."

They served themselves a roll and took a small bite at the same time as if rehearsed.

Angel nibbled on hers, giving her sons a good looking over. "Your father didn’t discuss the issue with me before he confronted you, Will. But I do agree with him and I’m proud of him for acting at a time I couldn’t figure out what to do. Have you talked to him about the lecture he gave you?"

Will’s face went sullen again. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Will. You don’t believe he thinks less of you, do you?"

He shrugged. "He’s been kinda frosty lately, Mom."

Angel patted his hand. "You two were frosty before, too, remember. He’ll always love you, Will, surely you know that. You need to understand how closely the issue strikes home with him. I grew up with a respected family name. Your father didn’t. When I first met him my last year of high school, for a split second, I looked for the negative image of a Stevenson I’d been taught to expect. But an instant later when my sense returned, I knew he was different. He’s had the same job since he was sixteen, did you know that?"

Will perked up just a little. "Just like me."

Angel murmured appreciatively, smiling at her son. "Yes, just like you. But he had to overcome so many preconceived opinions of him. Most coldly said that dating me was just a ploy to kiss up to society, or to get next to the Wright money. I didn’t listen. I knew he loved me. And when we conceived while still so young, he couldn’t hide his excitement, but he was also in pain. He didn’t want to have to get married or offer the town another scandal to mark against him as a Stevenson. But he bore it very gracefully. That day in the den, he was speaking to you from that experience. And he’s right. You’re too young to be a father, Will. And Samuel, this lesson is for you, too. Your father and I haven’t set the best example, I know. I half expected you to challenge him about that. We did it, who are we to preach? But I know you understand."

"I do, Mom."

Angel’s face mirrored bittersweet thoughts. "My parents were very religious, very strict. When I told them I was getting married sooner than our wedding date and why, they were very shocked and disappointed. I had to put my schooling on hold to raise babies and that hurt them even more. But they loved me, supported me, accepted Eric as a son, and bore the scandal with quiet grace. But I hurt them and I’ve regretted that every day since then, I want you to know that. Your father and I should have been more sensible, more careful, and waited to have you two. His advice focused on reputation and the sacrifice of raising children while so young. And my advice is to consider that you will live to see twenty. And thirty. And forty. And when you reach those years, better that you look back and feel satisfied that you were careful and didn’t repeat our mistake, didn’t hurt the ones you love, didn’t have to bear a scandal, or give up your youth before you were done with it."

"Mom, do you like Taylor?"

"I like her very much. She’s beautiful, smart, and she loves you, that’s clear enough. She’ll make an excellent wife, when you’re older."

Will glanced over at Gian, his face growing very serious. "Do you think less of me?"

A warm surge of delight swirled around in Gian’s heavy heart to be included. Though they always included him, and he always waited until that moment. "Of course not. Aye worry, like youur parents. As youu can see, a baby is a very serious responsibility. A child deserves two settled, secure parents to care for it."

Angel reached out to him with her free hand. "Don’t hover in the shadows."

Gian let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding after speaking his opinion without censure. Hypnotized by his need to belong, he stared deep into Angel’s eyes as he came around the chair. Careful with his hulking weight, he set down on the soft bed slowly.

"That’s better." Angel’s thin hand squeezed over his. "I hope you realize that I know how completely you’ve guided my sons while I’ve been...confined. Thank you."

Her praise shot straight through him like one of her shamelessly seductive, ‘I want you’ looks. Her sons offered quick smiles of approval that Gian knew they meant. For a moment, contentment eased through his body and melted away his nagging concerns. For a moment, and only for a moment.

Ramona appeared in the doorway, her face reflecting her disquiet. "Excuse me. As I was leaving, another visitor knocked on your door."

Gian almost stood up to prepare for Eric and his brooding manner to steal back his placement with his family, but Angel tightened her grip.

"Who is it, Ramona?"

"It’s Dr. Gerhard, and he’s in a mood."

Cold prickles of anxiety crept over Gian’s skin and up his neck. And he thought Eric’s arrival was sure to be unpleasant?

Ha, that was nothing compared to the pinched, steely expressions the doctor directed his way lately.

Angel grumbled and offered Gian a helpless sigh. "Show him in, Ramona, thank you."

Dr. Gerhard appeared in Angel’s bedroom doorway, his hard steely gaze sweeping over him. Gian swallowed against the heavy feeling of nausea climbing up his throat. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He dropped his gaze to the large white envelope the doctor had clenched so tightly in his old, weathered hand that he was wrinkling it.

Gerhard’s face mirrored his dark, angry mood. "Boys, I have to talk to your mother, would you mind leaving us alone?"

Both of Angel’s sons stood. Will’s brows were knit tightly. "Mom?"

"Bless you for being so protective. You know, I woke up hungry for pizza. Why don’t you two go to town to get one while we talk? Bacon and onions on mine."

"Really? You haven’t wanted one since, a long time ago," Samuel said, giving a pleased smile. He kissed Angel’s cheek.

"Get a stuffed crust."

At the door, Will stopped and stared at Gerhard. With dark brows knit again, he looked the doctor up and down with a suspicious, challenging, warning glance so reminiscent of Eric that Gian felt some small measure of relief in their loyalty.

William and Samuel exited. Gian swallowed hard, that brief relief murdered when Gerhard leaned out of the room to watch them leave. After a few moments pause, he closed the door, though he didn’t step any further into the room. Doc glanced his way without making eye contact and edged a half step back towards the door.

"I’ve been patient long enough. It’s time to talk, Angel." He waved the envelope. "I just got these results."

Angel’s eyes followed the shaky motion of the white paper. "What is it?" she asked with genuine curiosity. "Is it about me?"

Gerhard scoffed. "No. It’s about...about..." he used a sharp flick of his wrist and waved the envelope in Gian’s direction. His mouth worked but no words came out, his face shadowed.

Angel gave Gian a dubious look, her face pinched with concern. Gian’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might explode. Afraid, Gian stared into her eyes. How would his messenger angel save him this time?

Angel swallowed hard and turned a polite smile to the doc. "What is it you have, Doc?"

Gerhard shook it again at Gian. "The three of us know I faked the blood test so you could marry. I swore his type was AB. Frankly, I don’t know what blood type that was. I had a DNA test performed. That’s what’s in here, the results."

Angel sat up on the covers, frowning. "I don’t recall asking you to analyze his DNA. What right do you have to do that without his permission?"

"I was so shocked by the first report, I had it done again to be sure. This is the second report confirming the first results!" the doctor’s voice was laced with fear.

Gian fought the instinctual urge to bolt from the room. But where could he go to hide what he was? Only once had he felt this alien and in danger before, when Angel first found him in the frozen ditch at the quarry.

Angel slid her feet off the bed. "Well, since you gave yourself the liberty to pry, Doctor, why don’t you tell me what has you so tied up in knots?"

Gerhard seemed offended by her cool reply. He rallied and waved the report at Gian again. "YOU TELL ME WHAT THAT IS!"

Angel scowled. "Lower your voice, doctor. I’m a bedridden patient, remember?" she said in an iron tone. "And kindly do not refer to my husband as a ‘that’."

Gerhard laughed caustically. "First, his strange blood. And now, this test," he croaked in high emotion. "The subject is not human. A direct quote of the final notation."

Gian’s eyes followed the crazy trail of the envelope through the air in Gerhard’s hand. He feared that he might purge the contents of his stomach right here on the floor.

When Angel stood, Gian went to her side, but he faltered on rubbery legs and caught the bedpost to save himself from falling. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gerhard’s back press against the wall as if to get further away from him.

Angel gave him a solemn look when he neared and offered a helping hand. "I’m okay, dearest, really," she said softly, staring hard into his eyes.

Gian was surprised to see her stern expression morph into dead calm and an intention he was lost to understand. How could she be so composed while he was frozen by his own panic?

She straightened her silky peach gown modestly over her pregnant belly. "You’ll have to excuse my state of dress, Doc, but you did insist on a conference in my bedroom."

"Stop stalling and tell me what he is. He’s not human."

Angel sighed a deep abiding sound of defeat. "According to the report," she said calmly, pulling her robe on.

"The blood test revealed an unknown type, and absolutely no RH factor. None. Every human being has one, positive or negative. This DNA resembles humanoid life, but the subject of this test is not a human being!"

Angel lifted her long hair out of the neckline and let it tumble down her back. "All right, so you know. You’re right, my husband isn’t human. It’s clear really, with a simple examination. His bearing, his unidentifiable accent, his eye color, that shock of chestnut hair, even the contours of his face are noticeably different than ours. Yes, he’s from a world far away. He crashed his spacecraft in my quarry last February, and almost died from his burns and injuries, if you recall." She waddled slowly to her armoire.

Gerhard wheezed painfully, staring at his report with wide, disbelieving eyes. "I tried very hard to convince myself these test results didn’t indicate something horrible like that."

"Horrible?" Angel slid her hand underneath her bras and panties, obviously searching for something. She turned from her drawer and made a face at Gerhard. "I rather consider Gian’s arrival here to be a blessing."

"He’s not human!"

"Oh, yes, I know, we live in paranoid times. Even when a wonderful alien man stands before you, you can’t see how little a threat he is?" Angel turned to face the doctor. From the voluminous folds of her robe, she lifted a Colt .45 handgun, aiming at Gerhard. It was a shiny metallic black and looked ridiculously huge in her slender hand. She cocked the hammer back.

Horror shot through Gian. He glanced at the doctor, imagining her killing him to hide the truth. "Angel!"

"You see, Doc, back in February, I found a charred, dying man almost buried in a ditch full of frozen leaves. He spoke a strange language, told me that humans were savages, that he’d rather die than be stranded here. I was just as scared as you are now. But quickly, I realized that extraterrestrial or not, he was in agony and needed my care urgently. That was my compassion stepping in. I’d like to see some of that in you. You’ve cared for him for over a year now. You like him. At least you did before this. Don’t deny it, you’d be a stinking liar if you did." She bent her head and stared down the barrel of the gun at Gerhard.

Gian’s fingers wound so tightly on the bedpost they were going numb. "Angel, no!"

She smiled through thin lips. "I cared for Gian, nursed him back to health, with your help. Quickly, I realized what a treasure he was. A gentle scholar who fought settling into his new home amongst humans he thought were primitive creatures who would harm him just because he was different. I couldn’t help but fall in love with him. Are you going to abandon your honest friendship with him because you now know that he was born on another world? Tell me you aren’t that ignorant."

"Ignorant?" Gerhard snapped.

Angel tightened her grip on the gun and looked down the barrel again, her face lit brightly by cold purpose. "Are you a product of our immature paranoid culture? If it’s not just like us, hunt it down and kill it? That’s not very nice, Doc. I’ve always thought better of you than this. Doesn’t your Hippocratic Oath cover any person who bleeds and suffers pain, no matter what planet he was born on?"

"You’re the one waving a gun at me, Angel," he countered angrily.

Gian saw his chance to get nearer to Angel. What if she shot the doctor to save him and their secret? Right now, he believed she might, for never had he seen such coldness on her face. In short, light steps, he closed the distance between them. "Angel, please!" he begged her to drop the gun.

"He’s not human, Angel! You married an...alien person. And may God help you, you’re breeding his child. You can’t be thinking straight," Gerhard warned, waving the envelope violently in front of him.

Angel smiled oddly. "Well, let’s analyze that," she said and swung the gun at Gian. "Gian is, after all, an alien."

Gian knew it was weak, but he couldn’t stop his shaky legs from giving out. He sank to his knees in front of her. Staring down the primed pistol, held by his messenger angel, was too much. Gian stared into cold blue eyes, wondering if she would pull the trigger and kill him. This moment was surreal, anything could happen.

"Jesus, Angel!" Gerhard wheezed. He raised his hand as if to appeal to her. The envelope slapped down on the wood floor. "Don’t."

Angel laughed caustically. "Well, you waved that file around knowing it was as lethal as a gun. Let’s analyze, Doctor. Gian is an extraterrestrial. Maybe he didn’t crash by accident. Maybe he marks the beginning of an invasion, the first of many. You can plainly see how dangerous he is, down on his knees, after having pleaded for your miserable life. He is overly intelligent and used to be quite a racial snob. He could have evil intentions, we could just kill him now to save ourselves from any danger," she said with simple ease, her voice so cold.

"Angel, please don’t. Put down the gun."

Angel stepped closer to him. The icy cold metal of the gun’s barrel jabbed his hairline right in the center of his forehead.

"Why not? What had you planned to do with that revealing DNA test? Show it to someone? Fax it to the White House? Shooting him now would be much kinder than the horror his life could become if this knowledge was made public, don’t you think? Or were you looking forward to performing the first medical experiment on him once he is captive? I’d rather shoot him now than to have to live with the guilt of dealing with whatever horrible things could happen to him."

"I don’t want to harm him! Please put down the gun."

"Then what do you plan to do with that report, Doc?"

"I’ll throw it away, just don’t shoot him, for the love of God, Angel, please. Don’t kill him."

Angel gave Gian another of her deadly calm smiles. "So, you came in here, threatening us with that file, and now you’re pleading for his life?"

"Yes! Yes! Don’t kill him, it doesn’t have to come to that. I wanted to know about him, that’s all."

Angel nodded and sighed deeply. "That’s a relief. He’s pled for your life, you’ve pled for his. Very pretty. Now let me tell you how the future goes, Doc." Angel stepped backwards until she was several arms’ length away.

She aimed the gun at her own head.

Gian tried to get up to go to her, but only fell forward on his hands. Tears blurred his vision. His messenger angel was insane, absolutely insane. "Angel, please, put it down!" he begged in a shaky voice as he struggled to his feet.

Angel backed up and warned him with a tight expression. "Listen up, Doc. If you ever reveal what you know and endanger Gian’s life, I’ll kill myself. Just to spite you. Whether you have two minutes left to live, or twenty years, you’ll wallow every second you have left in horrible guilt. My blood will be on your hands."

"Angel! Please!" Gian croaked in a broken voice.

Angel studied him briefly and glanced at Gerhard. "He’s a menace to society, isn’t he, begging this way?"

Gerhard dared his first step. "Angel, for God’s sake, think of your family without you."

Angel gave Gerhard a crooked smile. "I’ve thought for a long time about what I would do if this moment ever came, Doc. I love him. Gian is part of my family. The scandal of my strange suicide might serve to muddy any of your ridiculous claims. Angel Wright Daushur, so much to live for, two wonderful sons, wealth, a gorgeous new husband, a baby on the way, and she killed herself, they’ll say. They’ll clamor to find out why, speculate, even maybe that your absurd claim against Gian was the reason. But my purpose will be served, the focus will be on me, and off of him. And you, Sir, will curl up into a heap of guilt and regret to know you caused Jarrod Wright’s daughter to kill herself. Over what? Because the unthinkable happened, you met a man from another planet?"

"I don’t want to harm him, I just wanted to know about him."

Angel crinkled her expression. "Yeah, right. Don’t try to bluff me, doctor, I’m really in no mood. If you try to destroy my happy life, and my family, you’ll be endlessly sorry, I assure you. I will do it."

Rising, Gian stepped as close as he dared and reached out very, very slowly. "Angel, please," he whispered. "He’s not going to say what he knows."

"He’s right, Angel, I’m not, I promise. You’re right, I do like him. He’s a remarkable person, really. I don’t think he’s here to invade, I think it’s just like you said, he crashed. Had no choice. Please, drop the gun."

"I do like how that sounds much better than the attitude you came in here with. I don’t care where he comes from. He’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. You can’t take him from me, my heart would break. I won’t live that way, I can’t, do you understand me?"

"I understand, I understand!" Gerhard said hurriedly.

"Hhe understands, Angel." Gian’s fingers reached her arm. They walked across her forearm and closed around it. Ever so gently he eased it down. "Please."

Angel let him pry the gun from her tight fingers. Her eyes were glassy. He tossed the .45 onto the rug behind her. "Are youu all right?"

She smiled softly. "I love you so much." She glanced at Gerhard. "I will do it, don’t push me. You’ll regret it. William and Samuel are grown up now. Will’s talking marriage. They don’t need me anymore."

Gerhard swung his head back and forth. "I won’t ever reveal what I know. I’ll toss this report into your fireplace right now to seal the pact. Watch me."

"Do it, Doc, right now."

Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Gian watched Gerhard bend with a groan and pick up the large envelope. He shuffled to the hearth and sent it flying into the crackling yellow flames. "It’s done. There are no copies, Angel. I was so shocked I shredded the first copy."

A sense of peace swept over Angel’s face and she murmured with happy emotion. "Gian would never hurt anyone. He’s the one I worry for. He’s gentle and sweet. He didn’t know about violence until Eric taught him what that was."

"I know. And he’s safe around me."

"Good." Angel laughed drunkenly, her eyes rolling up.

Gian caught her when she crumpled and set her on the bed. He stroked her face with a trembling hand. "Angel?"

Doc Gerhard halted bedside. "This is your child," he spat angrily. "Not Eric’s."

"NO!"

Gerhard lifted her lids, felt her skin. "Yes, it is. I’ve been watching you fret. You’re worried about her because she’s growing your alien child in her body."

Gian shook his head. "No! Angel will be fine." His grip closed around her cool hand and he smashed it to his cheek, rubbing against the stingy tears.

"She’s anything but fine. She’s very sick. Anemic in a fashion I’ve never seen before in my life. She can barely get out of bed each day. Your child is draining her life away."

A strangled moan broke from Gian’s throat. "No! Will be fine," he whispered hoarsely.

Gerhard stared hard. "You better hope so. If she dies from the strain of carrying or birthing your child, you better run faster than you ever have before and hide from me," he warned with a low, dangerous tone.

If she dies... The words ripped Gian apart inside. Life without Angel? His beautiful messenger angel? Her death on his hands? For carelessly making her pregnant?

"Shhe not die!" he shouted to chase away the specter of death as if it hovered near, waiting. He envisioned an ugly, unthinkable image of her lying lifeless in a coffin, her face paled by death, her lovely body draped in a funeral gown, her hair splayed out neatly against the white pillow. "No," he cried to himself and crouched over her little hand. A primal groan vibrated in his chest.

"You’d better hope she doesn’t. Her death releases me from my promise not to sell you out to the highest bidder who wants a genuine alien creature."

Gian heaved great gulps of air to control his panic, oblivious to the doctor’s ominous threat.

Was this place Purgatory as he believed in the beginning? And his punishment was to learn to love a woman with his whole being, only to watch her die? The child couldn’t be his. Couldn’t be.

Ramona, he had to call Ramona, Gian thought and forced himself to a wobbly stand. Tears blurred his vision.

Call another human to aid him?

Confused what to do, Gian battled himself for mastery. He couldn’t bring himself to release her thin hand. Nor get down beside her and weep for the first time in his wretched life until his agony was spent.

The buzzing noise in his brain grew into a debilitating sensation. Gian’s head waggled on his shoulders. Clinging to the only lifeline of reality left, Gian sank to his knees, cradling Angel’s hand against his cheek.

For a moment, he couldn’t move, only gulp air into his air starved lungs. His whole body shuddered, adding to his misery. Even when Gerhard’s long coat brushed against his shoulders, Gian was unable to act. He lost track of time and place. Finally, the sickening swirl that rolled around inside him slowly started to recede.

A sense of time and place opened Gian’s eyes. Releasing Angel’s hand, he gripped the bedpost and struggled to stand.

"You feeling a little better now?" Gerhard’s voice lacked warmth, but he seemed sincere now.

Gian tested his strength. "Aye guess," he barely whispered. Tottering across the rug, he stared blindly into the fireplace. What would the DNA analysis of Angel’s baby reveal? Gian wished he knew.

"Is it yours?"

Gian laughed to imagine the joy he’d feel to get a child from Angel. Then Malana’s face flashed bright like the sun in his head. "No. Cannot be. Cannot be," he whispered. Pacing, Gian stopped at the small end table by Angel’s desk. He stared down at the new ledger she’d bought him, the one she suggested be his personal journal. The one he should start keeping. His mind whirled with images of people and conversations.

All of her symptoms are normal, mostly…

I’m just tired, that’s all, I’ll be fine…

Your child is draining her life away…

"It cannot be!" he raged to himself, all of Malana’s evil actions now making twisted sense. Gian’s arm shot out, shoving the journal and a few other items caught in his path off the tabletop. They crashed to the floor and scattered. "Divorce because of infertility. Mate wanted children, Gian not able to give."

"Christ, you took a chance with Angel’s health based on one woman’s claim?"

"Why would shhe lie?" Gian threw his hand into the force of his words.

"Women have been known to lie sometimes if it serves them, Gian, for christssake. We have birth control available on this planet, you should have used some. Is this child going to harm her?"

Gian swung to his beautiful messenger angel. "No!" he denied and then wondered. A new rush of tears flowed down his cheeks, his heart constricted. "Not mine."

"What if it is?" Gerhard snapped impatiently. "Would bearing it harm her? Your DNA is nothing like ours. Are her symptoms like those of your women?"

Guilt washed over Gian like a sickening fog. "Yes."

"You sonofabitch. What right did you have to take chances with Angel’s health? What right? Especially with dozens of contraceptives available?"

Gian, with his superior Tro^ian brain, had no answer. He stood there impotent, weaving while he suffered. He shook his head, unable to do much else.

"Well, this explains why you’ve so possessively guided her diet and care. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve known, or strongly suspected right from the very beginning."

"Aye know nothing," Gian admitted, his voice growing stronger with each word, "similar symptoms suffered by both races. Aye not know."

Gerhard chuckled coldly. "This child won’t be born bearing Stevenson’s darkness; it’s going to look like you, auburn and different."

"No!"

"Fine, deny it to the end, whatever that may be. But you continue your excellent care. She’s flourished under your regime better than any her midwife or I use. Does that tell you anything?"

Gian walked stiffly to Angel’s bed and sank down on the end corner. His gaze roamed over her pale, lovely face and downward to the huge bulge of her stomach. "Will take excellent care of her, not out of fear, but love and devotion."

They considered each other silently for a while, only the crackle of fire filled the empty quiet. Gerhard’s face reflected his raging emotions. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, Angel’s small whimper took his turn.

Gian twirled off the bed and knelt near her head. He stroked her hair gently. "Angel?"

Angel’s lids lifted. She murmured and sucked in a deep breath. "Don’t test me, Doc, I mean it."

Dr. Gerhard lifted her wrist and checked her pulse. "Angel, you know me well, I couldn’t live with myself if you killed yourself. You know how to torture an old man with a vision of Hell."

"Umm," Angel said, nodding slightly. "Gian, dearest, it’s time."

"Time? Are youu hungry?"

"No, not hungry."

"What then?" he asked with desperate impatience.

"Call Ramona, it’s time. She’s going to be born in the next day or so."

Gian gaped in horror. "It’s too early."

Angel shook her head. "Not for her. She’s ready."

Hypnotized by her sureness, Gian was speechless.

"Angel, you should go to the hospital for the birth," Gerhard insisted firmly.

"That may not be a good idea, Doc, don’t you agree? Besides, this child is Gian’s."

The doctor stammered and shot Gian a surprised glance.

Gian shook his head, denying her crazy claim.

Angel huffed affectionately at him and reached out to stroke his wet cheek. "You’re safe forever from him. He would never take my daughter’s mother from her. Would you, Doctor?"

"Angel, I swear, I’ll never say a word. Please, let’s get you to the hospital."

Angel shook her head furiously. "No! Call Ramona. You can stay and help her if you wish. For my health, she’s intent to be born soon." She turned twinkly eyes to Gian. "She’s a wonderful, special girl. She’s been looking out through my eyes the past weeks. At you. She is smitten with you already. She’s your gift for bearing your hard trials gracefully, and I’m the one chosen to bring her to you. I’ve wondered all this time since my pregnancy was so odd. It wasn’t until the past few weeks that I’ve actually been able to hear her thoughts. It’s going to be all right, Gian," Angel meant to continue, but her face tightened and her breath stopped for a moment. "Ohh! Ohhh! It’s time. She’s coming. Get Ramona."

Gian’s arm shot out for the phone.

Angel refused to let go. "Wait, there’s something more I’m supposed to tell you."

"After call, Angel, after."

"No! Now. They know, Gian, that you live."

"Who? Who knows?"

"The Olds...Olders…" she struggled for clarity.

"Elders?" Gian hissed with disbelief for what his own ears heard her say.

"Yes, Elders. Not your...society, but the Elders know you live. They say," she licked her dry lips, "they say that one day your people will come for you and that if you are to prevail you must be strong."

Gian became nauseated again. "No. Not want thhem to come for mme." Sweat beaded on his upper lip and itched.

Angel smiled with adoration. "This child is meant to be a companion for you, so you won’t be so lonely for Tro^ian conversation. But she’s special, she’s going to prepare you for your future. When you go home." She groaned and splayed her hands on her belly. "Call Ramona, you’re going to be a father." Angel laughed almost deliriously.

Standing, Gian stared at her. She was insane. He knew he was having some kind of shocky reaction to her revelations. His whole body felt unnatural. He blinked to clear his vision. Prayed he’d wake up from this strange bittersweet nightmare.

Gerhard brought him around with a stern command. "This is no time to blank out, call the midwife."

His hand shook and jumbled the tiny numbers on the keypad so he couldn’t read them. The buzzing in his head returned and he swallowed hard against the bile rising up his throat.

Finally, he managed the phone number and flinched when Ramona’s low voice rasped hello.

"Angel says the baby is coming, now." Gian’s body went loose and he groaned, overwhelmed.

"Jesus, sit down before you fall down," Gerhard growled and pushed him onto the edge of the bed. "Get a grip on yourself. You’re surprisingly squeamish for such a big man. When you’re composed, go get lots of towels and blankets," he said, sliding his jacket off. "It’s time to bring a new life into the world."

Angel groaned as another contraction gripped her. Sweat beaded on her temples. She pressed into the pillows, concentrating hard on staying calm as Ramona gently directed over and over. Blowing out eleven fast gusts, Angel finally relaxed, and closed her eyes. "Wow, I passed through first stage labor awfully fast."

Ramona patted her arm reassuringly. "Not really, you spent the past four and a half hours napping through most of it." Ramona’s fingers moved skillfully around Angel’s belly, face intent, her eyes staring sightlessly as if she was blind. "Seems turned to me, too, James."

Doc Gerhard nodded. "I thought so. It’s been a long time since I delivered a baby. It feels big for thirty-six weeks."

"It’s a calm, quiet baby, not burning many calories."

Angel’s grip tightened on Gian’s hand. She looked up at him with loving, trusting eyes. "What’s the date?"

"April eighteenth," he reported quietly, licking his dry lips. "Why?"

"Another important birthday to remember."

Sweltering in his guilt, he nodded, rubbing a frantic pattern into her forearm, over every octon of her skin he could reach. A Tro^ian symbol of achievement. He scanned the room again, trying to fathom the preparations for the birth. Three tall stacks of blankets and towels were piled high on the table nearby.

What purpose would all those serve? Already the temperature of the room was very warm.

A large pitcher and a porcelain basin were full of fresh water. Was Angel supposed to drink all of it?

Various tools were positioned neatly alongside Ramona’s little brown tincture bottles on a standing tray near the bed.

Scissors? Another small knifelike instrument? Gian didn’t want to know what they were for.

The fire crackled as it consumed several new logs while the cold wind of a late spring storm howled outside the window.

With his free hand, Gian rubbed his temple. Already he had a headache from copying her breathing. Why was she so much calmer than he was?

Angel tensed, panting in big bursts, her eyes closed in concentration. Yet another contraction.

Ramona glanced at her watch. "Five minutes apart. And you’re at 6 centimeters. Coming along nicely. This should be a fast delivery. I could give you something for the pain."

Angel relaxed, shaking her head. "They’re strong, but I don’t have pain unless I tense up. This isn’t so bad, certainly much easier than I expected."

Ramona smiled at Gian. "How about you? You look like hell."

Gian averted his eyes from her direct stare. "Want Angel to be fine," his voice drowned out and broke. Knowing Gerhard was nearby and fiercely hating him for being alien, Gian couldn’t get a hold of his raging emotions.

"Ah, I see, worrying too much again," Ramona said.

"He’s sweet, isn’t he?" Turquoise eyes twinkling at Gian, she leaned, offering her lips. "Give me a kiss, handsome."

He gave her a short, firm peck. "Please tell mme when to leave," he said, eager for that to happen so he could join Lyndon and the boys in the study while they waited.

Ramona made a face. "You don’t want to be here when it’s born?"

Gian leaned back slightly, horror surging through him. "No."

Angel’s laughter shook the bed. "You’re not leaving me, dearest, don’t even try. I need you here."

Gian’s mind whirled for good reasons to escape. Already he was exhausted by her labor. And still deeply shocked when her ‘water’ broke an hour ago. Copious fluid gushed down her legs, soaked her fuzzy pink slippers and pooled around them on the wood planked floor.

How much of this did she think he could take? Men were never present at Tro^ian births. And rightly so, childbearing was a woman’s event.

Samuel knocked on the door and slowly, slowly took a few steps into the room, his face somber, serious. "Mom? Is this a bad time?"

Angel gave him a cheery smile. "Come here, Samuel. I’m having a baby, not dying."

Samuel glanced wide-eyed around the room. He wiped his brow with his forearm. "Man, it’s hot in here."

"Samuel, what did you come to tell me?"

"Oh, uhh, are you up to a visitor?"

Angel’s face tensed again. That signature moan marked her next contraction. This time she forced blasts of breath between her teeth. As he quietly copied her, Gian thought the top of his head would blow off from the pressure pounding in his brain. Just before he passed out, she sagged into the pillows and he was able to draw a proper breath.

"Whoooo! They’re amazingly strong and intense," she said breathlessly. Turning to Samuel, she smiled as if nothing untoward had just happened. "Who is it?"

Samuel’s face was contorted into a mask of horror and disbelief, his brows high, his mouth slacked.

"Sam?"

Angel’s son looked at her as if she had three heads. "Uh, um, are you up to it?"

"Yes, darling, who is it?" she asked with a bit of singsong impatience.

Samuel gave her a tortured smile as he back-stepped towards the door. "Well, then, I’ll be going." He whirled and fled into the hall, disappearing.

Angel snickered. "Well, he was helpful."

Gian nodded to everything she said, efficiently blotting the perspiration off her forehead and temples with a stiff hand. "Nervous," he croaked.

"Just like you are? Your hands are shaking. You’re pale. Out of breath. Who’s the one giving birth here?"

Gian stared deep into her soul with fervent hope that she’d have mercy on him. "Aye will come undone if youu make mme stay, Angel," he whispered desperately.

"You’ll be fine, and with what we know now, it’s your place," she assured him. Opening her mouth to speak, Angel’s words were cut off when another stronger contraction gripped her. Her moan was long and low.

Gian stared down at her, panicked by her distress and unable to stop breathing in unison with her. His head ached so much he could hardly focus his eyes. Once she relaxed, he hung his head until his nose was octons from hers. "Aye can’t. Aye can’t," he begged her to be reasonable.

Challenge blazed in her eyes. "I need you with me. You’re staying."

"It’s a birth, Gian, get ahold of yourself," Ramona chastised him gently. "Women do this successfully everyday. You’re supposed to be her rock."

Rock? Rock? How could he be her rock when he could barely keep his wits about him?

Angel sighed and caressed her fingers over his cheek. "You’ll manage, dearest, you have to."

Suddenly, Gian realized a tall figure leaned on the end bedpost. A spurt of adrenaline tensed his whole body, but even the sight of Eric couldn’t muster any aggression.

Angel murmured in surprise. "Eric! Are you back already? Did you find her?"

Eric considered Gian for a moment, a subtle smirk curving his face slightly. His gaze drifted to Angel and became a soft, loving glow. "Ready to push yet?"

"No, but soon. Tell me."

"I never left, Angel, not while you’re feeling so poorly and close to your delivery date, which is obviously this afternoon, not next month."

"Thank you, you’re sweet to be so concerned. But Kristen?"

"I have a stake in this birth, remember?" Eric eyed her meaningfully. "I had a friend at the bank trace her credit card activity. Then sent an investigator to go where the bill originated and see if she was still there. I know where she is. Apparently, she decided to do her childbearing alone. I think I’ll let her stew in her folly for a while. She’s not having a hard time like you are…did."

"Where’d she go?"

"She’s lazing in the sun in St. Thomas, working hard over a laptop."

Angel frowned. "So, she is…is she...?"

"Yes. Developing a nice belly as we speak, so I’ve been told," he said with ambivalence he didn’t even try to hide. His jaw worked, his eyes smoldering with aggression.

Angel tensed, another contraction overtaking her.

Ramona looked at her watch. "Three and a half minutes apart. They’ve speeded up," she said, her voice reflecting mild surprise.

Angel sighed loudly as it ended. "I love you for being here, Eric, but shouldn’t you bring her home?"

"You love me, huh?" He gave a bittersweet smile.

Angel shifted to sit straighter. "I’ll love you forever. Just because we couldn’t live together peaceably, doesn’t mean you don’t hold an indelible place in my heart. Which gives me a responsibility to tell you something else."

Eric crossed his arms. "What’s that?"

Angel tossed Gian a brief glance. Then her brows knit, her expression uncertain. "Well, just that," she shifted to look at Eric directly, "I imagine Kristen told you about the claim Gian couldn’t father a child. But he can, and he did. This baby is his, I just know.."

"Where are the test results to prove that?" Eric asked with subtle sarcasm.

"There you go with that tone. That’s why we’re divorced, you know. If I had to state one reason for not being able to live with you, it’s your crappy tones and that arrogant smirk. They’re so infuriating. Sets my teeth on edge..." her lecture was cut off. A low groan dragged from deep inside her.

Gian suffered with her, wide eyed as the pangs of childbirth took over her body yet again. Why did she have to expend so much useless energy?

As if she had it to spare?

She squeezed his hand with surprising vigor, pinching his skin. Gian winced and clenched his jaw. It lasted twenty-five seconds longer than the one before. Captive to her cycles, Gian savored the brief respite while he could when Angel finally slacked with relief.

"Bozo here doesn’t look like he’s going to make it through, do you want me to stay?"

Gian straightened his spine, deeply offended to think that Eric could watch Angel give birth while he could not.

Ramona chuckled. "That did it."

"Eric, stop calling him that. His hair is a lovely shade of auburn." Angel smiled slightly at Gian, knowing etched into her face. "And thank you. You just cured what ailed my partner."

Eric huffed dryly. "I assure you that was not my intention."

Angel wheezed softly, the next muscle contraction coming quicker, stronger. "I love you, Eric, but go now," she said between gusts of breath, "it’s time to get this damn nightgown off and get to business."

Ramona helped Angel unbutton her skimpy pink gown down the front and pull it aside with Gerhard still in the room and hovering around the bed! His face flushed with embarrassment.

Humans were shameless about nudity. Especially Angel.

"I want to check you again, Angel."

Ramona’s hands perched intimately between Angel’s legs. Gian turned his head, another wave of heat burning his face. Calculating the time compared to her last ‘check’, Gian looked back to find the midwife’s fingers still pressed inside Angel. But her curious smile overpowered his squeamish urge to turn completely away.

"I’m swirling my finger around in very thick, long hair. This little one has a full head of it."

Not interested in the fact at the moment, Gian modestly averted his eyes.

"More than nine centimeters, it’s almost time."

Gian grunted in discomfort when Angel squeezed his sore fingers. He shot her a desperate glance and noted the humor etched into her tired features.

He choked back a useless plea for mercy.

The pace of the birth picked up considerably. Soon, all Gian could hear through his pounding headache and sickened senses was: ‘Push. One, two, three, four, five…’ Angel wrung his hand, forcing his throbbing bone joints together over and over. He growled under his breath, gritted his teeth, whatever worked to keep it there for her. Sometimes shooting pains raced up his arm and into his shoulder. Bruises were a certainty.

Angel burst out with a loud squeal that echoed around the room. Shivers raced down Gian’s spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

"Here’s the head, Angel, ease up a little."

Gian made the mistake of looking up. Between her legs were piles of red soaked towels and cradled in Ramona’s hands was a dark mucus covered ball. Gian’s stomach wrenched. A strong hand on the back of his neck pushed him forward. Grateful when a clean towel was clamped over his face, Gian fought to contain his dry heaves.

Through his malaise, Gian swore he heard Gerhard chuckling. Along with Ramona and Angel.

"The shoulders are almost out, give me a big push, Angel."

Angel groaned as if she were dying, her nails poked through the skin on his hand and twisted over his aching fingers. Her moan lasted a full thirty seconds and wore him out.

"Good work, Angel! It’s a girl!"

Gian sagged with relief. He hovered in his malaise, the bed shaking constantly from the action around her. Through the fog in his brain, he listened to shuffling and scuffling, the quiet drone of voices. Angel’s sighs of relief. And most compelling of all, the tiny whimpers of a newborn baby. He couldn’t help but smile at the offended tone in its unsteady whimpers.

"What’s with this cord? It’s...two intertwined," Ramona said with wonderment. "This smaller white one’s got thin tendrils attached to the larger normal looking one. I’ve never seen anything like this, have you, James?"

Gerhard eyed it briefly. "Seen all sorts of strange things through my days as a doctor, Ramona."

"Here she is, Angel," Ramona said. "Take a good look now that I’ve wiped her off."

Angel cooed weakly. "Hi, sweetheart."

Gian considered opening his eyes, but he was riveted on the smell of blood and a sweeter, very light aroma near his nose. He sniffed lightly, afraid to exacerbate the pounding headache with energetic breaths.

But Angel tensed again and let out a grunt. "Gian, darling, get up and hold the baby."

A strong hand gripped the shirt over his arm and pulled him upright. In a daze, Gian accepted the small white mewling bundle.

"Why don’t you turn away, there’s a little more business left, dearest."

Gian stared at her in surprise. Her hair was soaked, her sweaty face notably drawn, yet, she smiled at him. "More?" he whispered hoarsely.

Angel nodded. "Go, turn away, take a look at the baby while we finish."

Gian’s eyes darted to her lower body. More red soaked towels were packed around her legs like mini mountains. Did she have any blood left in her body?

"Gian!" she snapped her fingers in front of his nose. "That way, go. I don’t want you retching again, thank you."

He obeyed and moved as far as his rubbery limbs would allow. That was a dignified slump off the side of the bed, her child cradled in his arms. He sat on the floor and rested his head against the edge of the mattress, listening to her huff and puff through mild contractions. What was happening now?

A burbled sound drew his attention. He stared in awe at the tiny face peeking out of the whiteness. Glassy auburn eyes considered him intelligently. Smooth skinned and fair like her mother, this baby even had her cute upturned nose. Chestnut brows were finely arched, her mouth a full-lipped pout. He stewed in savage contentment that Angel’s daughter looked like her instead of Eric.

"Look at the size of the placenta, wow," Ramona said. "Nearly twice the normal. No wonder she was so drained of energy and nutrients."

Angel sighed deeply as if freed from her troubles. "Just make all this mess disappear, please. I want to gawk at our new arrival like he’s doing." She yawned.

Too busy studying Angel’s baby, Gian listened only halfheartedly. Angel was fine. So was the baby. After they cleaned up the carnage of body fluids all over the bed, maybe Gerhard would go away. Hopefully leave them in peace. The rest of the evening might be fine.

Gian reached into the blanket to free the tiny hand rustling under the covers near her petite chin. The baby curled it around the end of his reddened swelled forefinger. Counting the five perfectly-formed tiny fingers, Gian couldn’t help but smile in wonder at the miracle of birth.

"Gian, you can’t hog her all to yourself," Angel complained. "I want to stare, too."

Gian reluctantly peeked around his hair, surprised that she relaxed against the pillows in the middle of clean sheets, her nakedness covered by a new gown. Stiff and achy, he shifted onto his knees, carefully balancing the fragile bundle. He lifted the baby onto the bed between them in outstretched arms. "She’s very beautiful."

"Well, so is her father."

Ignoring the stab of affront, Gian grumbled to himself, imagining the moment Eric came in here to victoriously claim his little daughter.

A deep sense of failure overwhelmed him. How lucky Eric was, two fine sons, a new baby girl, too. Since his great grandmother’s time, sons had succeeded the Daushur line. When he and Malana had agreed to conceive, he’d wanted to be different and have a daughter follow in his footsteps.

Gian pried his unwilling fingers from the blanket.

Ramona sat beside him and smiled patiently. "Angel, he doesn’t get it yet. He’s still dazed from the event."

Angel looked at her baby, then up at Gian. "Do you approve of your handiwork, Mr. Daushur?"

Another delightful burble from the baby tugged at his heart but he didn’t dare pick her up again, not knowing her father lurked around the house, waiting to see her.

"Do you?"

What did she want him to say? Eric’s daughter was beautiful? Well, she was.

"I know you’re exhausted, despite the fact that I bore the baby, dearest, but at least you can tell me if you’re pleased to be a father."

"Father?"

Angel rolled her eyes.

Ramona sniggered. "Gian, let me help you with this." She grasped the section of blanket edging over the baby’s brows and pulled it back to expose the whole head.

Gian noted the long, dark, damp hair. He nodded. There was a lot, as Ramona had claimed. Nearly two inches all around, it was thick with a reddish tinge.

"Good grief," Angel complained. "You’re right, he doesn’t get it." She reached over and bounced the front flipped curl growing upwards from the rather low hairline. "Doesn’t she remind you of someone?"

Staring in fascination, Gian tried to place Eric’s face anywhere on this gorgeous baby. With fierce gladness, he couldn’t. Angel bounced the curl again.

His breath caught in his throat. Emotion twisted forcefully in his chest. She really was his!

Angel leaned to look him in the eye. "Congratulations, Gian, you’re a father."

A tortured cry of disbelief flew out of his mouth. His hands wrapped possessively around the bundle and drew it close. He could barely see her through the tears blurring his vision.

Memories whirled around his brain. His messenger angel had just given him the child he denied to the very end was his.

Malana’s betrayal loomed clearly in his mind for the first time, the proof here in his arms. But Gian overflowed with adoration for this tiny person in his arms and instantly, his life was prioritized.

Unwrapping the white blanket with shaky hands, Gian exposed his child’s small naked body and cradled her close. He filled his eyes with the miracle of her.

So tiny, so perfect. A joyous blend of both her parents.

A tear tolled off his cheek and splashed onto the infant’s cheek. She jerked, burbling in complaint but continued to stare up at him. Gian very gently ran his huge fingers through her drying, bouncy hair, unable to resist flicking that front flipped curl.

So completely Tro^ian.

Gian wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying, but he shook from the force of his feelings. He’d not believed for one second that Angel’s baby was his, not truly. Heartbeat thudding in his temples, Gian stared deep into her eyes. He knew he must perform the Elders’ silent blessing since one couldn’t be present. He savored the brief but very important moment of introduction and acceptance.

Joy swirled warmly through him. A new flood of tears cascaded down his face. His daughter!

After all his failures, Ushuatan had blessed him so handsomely. In an instant, memory transported him back to that cold ditch he’d been found in. Cradling his baby as close as he dared without crushing her, Gian gazed at Angel, his heart overflowing with gratitude.

"Thank youu," he whispered hoarsely. "Youu saved maye life. Gave mme everything Aye have. And now, herr." He drew in a harsh watery breath and held it so he wouldn’t lose control.

Angel’s eyes brimmed with tears, her lower lip quivering. "My pleasure. You’ve been an inspiration to me, more than you’ll ever know. Thank you for my daughter."

Gian sat beside her on the bed. Together, they counted the baby’s toes and fingers. Almost continually one of them was flicking her front flipped curl. He’d never realized how unique this trait was until he saw it on his child. He’d seen a few humans with hairlines nearly as low, but he’d never seen one who sported hair growing so obviously upwards. Nor his outrageous shade. At least the baby’s hair had been darkened to a human auburn by Angel’s gene contribution.

Angel swiped her palms over her wet cheeks. "She’s so intent, so aware. Like an old, old soul."

Gian nodded. "Shhe is aware," he whispered covertly, but hushed any further comment while other company was in the room.

Angel caressed softly over his strong jaw. "I love you. It’s perfect now, all perfect."

"Well, parents," Ramona interrupted softly, "congratulations on the lovely girl. I think you have earned some time alone. Angel, you’re set, keep an eye on the flow. I’ll check in an hour or so. I hear the gathering in the study is gathering speed. A new arrival party. I think I’ll hang around."

Swirling her fingers in the child’s generous hair, Angel grinned sweetly at her midwife. "Thank you so much for tending me. My pregnancy could have been a very miserable experience, but you made it bearable."

Ramona blew on her nails and rubbed them over her chest. "I love my job."

Gian nodded politely and gave a tremulous smile.

Ramona chuckled, her eyes twinkling kindly. "You didn’t expect it, but you’re someone’s daddy now. How does that feel?"

Gian choked on the emotion that raced up his throat. He averted his eyes, his body tense as he fought not to break down.

"Good evening, Gian, Angel." Ramona slung her packed medical bag over her shoulder and gave a wave over her shoulder as she left the room.

Admiring his child, Gian was awed by the intense protective love he felt down to his very core. Tiny face, tiny body, so very vulnerable, so innocent. His eyes blurred again, but not enough that he didn’t see the infant reach up and grab his hair hanging off his shoulder. Her little hand grasped firmly around a hank and swung sharply back and forth, her copper eyes going wide with delight at the fun of it.

"Doc?" Angel said softly, question clear in her tired voice.

A sense of dread washed over Gian. In his arms was a half-alien child.

Gerhard gave a sad smile. "Congratulations. Healthy baby, healthy mother."

Angel’s mood was much more direct. "Tell me you accept this. Tell me that when you go, it’s over, we can relax and just go on living as we were."

The doctor waved his hand dismissively in the air. "Angel, I won’t destroy the happiness you two have found with each other. I respect what’s at stake. Would you like me to tell Eric the news? You deserve the respite from any more grief this evening."

"Thank you. I’m really not up to seeing him scowl."

Gerhard slid his hat onto his head and shoved one hand into his trenchcoat pocket. "Personally, I am. But don’t tell him that. I’ll inform the small crowd waiting for news."

When he closed the bedroom door behind him, Gian stared for a long time, half expecting him to come bursting back through, having changed his mind about not revealing what he knew, waving the copy of the DNA report he claimed to have shredded. Eventually his adrenaline stopped pumping so hard. He tried to relax and roamed his gaze around the room. The basins were empty, the water used for washing. The towels, well, they certainly used all of those. The scissors were used to cut the umbilical cord. While the whole event was still too graphically lodged in his mind, he did at least understand now. Birth wasn’t necessarily a mysterious task, but it certainly was a very sloppy, unappetizing one.

"Gian, you’re hogging her," Angel complained, prying the bundle from him.

He scooted closer to her. "Shhe’s sleepy."

"Busy day." Angel smiled up at him. "Well, Mr. Useful, you were of no help at all, save a handhold. Why is that? You acted as if the whole process was a complete surprise."

Gian huffed. "Until now, it was a mystery."

"It was? How can that be? Perhaps you’d never witnessed the event, but surely you were all studied up on the mechanics of birth?"

Gian laughed. What an absurd assumption. "No. My contribution is to seed the child, and maintain the home and her work business until mate is back on her feet. Not witness the birth. No, uh uh, not maye place. Birth is women’s business."

It was Angel’s turn for disbelief. "Really? No wonder you freaked out then. Women’s business? Gosh, I’m sorry, I had no idea. I just figured you knew every detail of what was going to happen. Though, I can’t believe you threw up. Gian, my rock, my stoic husband, squeamish?"

Gian felt his face blush. "Am sorry."

"Actually, you were quite the entertainment, stole the seriousness away from the event. I think we all enjoyed watching you fall apart. Or ‘come undone’, as you stated would happen."

Embarrassed, Gian still found the humor to laugh at himself. "Aye had no idea youu would insist Aye be here for the delivery."

Angel giggled. Stroking her fingertip over the girl’s low hairline, she sighed deeply. "I’m so glad she’s yours. I guess if we’d suspected you were fertile, we would have used protection and not conceived her on our wedding night. Dawn, rather. This was the only way she could have been born. Even I might have refused to try having a half Tro^ian baby."

Tears dribbled down his cheeks again.

For a few minutes, they both admired their baby while she slept. "Gian? I want you to name her."

He scoffed. "Mme?"

"Yes, you. I liked that elegant greeting you gave her. I suspect I’ll like the Tro^ian name she should have."

He lifted a tiny hand and fiddled with the fingers. He remembered Angel’s speech right before labor started. Dissatisfaction roiled in his gut. "Angel?"

She rubbed her cheek on his shoulder, yawning. "Yes, dearest?"

"Aye don’t want to go home. To the homeworld. Don’t belong there anymore. Would be very unhappy. Aye am home."

"What?" Angel said dubiously. She settled deeper into the pillows with a stiff sigh. "You don’t want to see your homeworld again?"

He shifted sideways and cuddled closer, their baby the only space between them. "Aye like living here. Like the people. And the beasts...the animals. Wonderful foods, the focus on how Aye feel, not how much Aye accomplish. Aye like being free to choose what Aye do with maye hours, with maye life. Aye could never go back. Aye don’t want herr to grow up only as a scholar, not knowing earthen luxuries and joys. Youur forecast upsets mme."

Angel touched the tip of the child’s nose. "Her forecast. I really feel victorious that my snobbish, superior alien visitor wants to stay. But the day will come, Gian, expect it. I don’t find it surprising really, after all, if I’d lost you, I wouldn’t give you up for dead until I found your bones somewhere in the galaxy. You will be faced with a search and rescue party, of that I am certain."

Gian lifted one shoulder, shaking his head slightly. "Aye will pray everyday from now on that the prophecy doesn’t come to pass."

Angel snickered. "I’m the one spouting reason, and you’re the one in denial. What’s up with this? A switch in our natures?"

Thinking of his homeworld, dread and doom was all Gian could feel. "What could Aye have to teach them?"

"What will this child be teaching me? Just before she dozed off, she purposely grabbed your hair and swung it around. That’s a trick only a human child could do after six months of life. What other advanced wonders can I expect?"

Gian murmured lovingly at the small sleeping person. "By the end of the first year, Tro^ian children are learning to read."

Angel gave a pained laugh. "Oh my god. In other words, she’s likely to be renowned as a prodigy?"

Concern for that idea struck Gian uncomfortably. He studied her miniature fingers again. "Yes, but Aye will teach herr to keep such abilities private."

Angel slid her hand over his shoulder and buried her fingers in his hair. "Don’t worry. We’ll handle it. And thank you again. I’ve really loved raising the boys. The kid movies, their adoration for action figures, all the endless horseplay and fun we have together. Now they’re growing so quickly into men, it’s hard to imagine them as boys. I’ve mourned that their youths were gone, that kind of fun was over. And now, not only do I get to have that again, but I have a girl. And you gave her to me. If unwittingly." She gave a tired grin, her eyelids hanging dangerously low.

"Aye love youu, Angel."

"Mmmm," she murmured, a big sigh following.

Gian panicked. "Angel! What if shhe gets hungry? Youu are going to... feed her... to..."

Angel opened her eyes slightly. "Breastfeed her? You know about that?"

Gian shot her a dry expression. "Aye know about that."

She giggled under her breath and closed her eyes again. "When she’s hungry, I’m sure I’ll hear all about it. You should put a diaper on her, though, sometime soon. While I take a nap, you can manhandle the job, right?"

"Diaper?"

"Tro^ian men don’t diaper their babies?"

Gian grumbled. "A live-in Aurella, a... ‘nanny’ is assigned to the household."

Angel’s mouth curved with a sleepy smile. "That’s always an option, but not tonight, Mr. Scholar man. You have a lesson with newborn diapers."

She fell asleep laughing at him. Gian was almost annoyed, but he was too elated to bother going with it. Diaper, huh?

He supposed that was the least of his tasks.

She required that he name the infant. That job belonged to the Tro^ian Elders...

Gian pulled the clean smelling sheets up to Angel’s chin. Ushuatan had been unbelievably kind tossing him in her path. Pressing a gentle kiss on her large human forehead, Gian worked his way carefully off the bed. He went to the fireplace and sat down in the large easy chair. By the heat of the crackling flames, he searched his mind for names. In love with the little face, he sighed deeply. He glanced over at his exhausted, sleeping mate, his eyes glistening with grateful tears.

His haughty, arrogant attitude from last year filled his mind. Exile with humans? Death was preferable. What a fool he’d been. Gian scoffed. He’d been lucky not to get that wish.

"It’s bedtime, little baby, and I have plans with your father, so please go to sleep." Angel gently rocked her six-week-old daughter. After pressing a kiss onto her forehead, she placed her in the brass crib. Angel tucked the pink flannel blanket under Brienne’s tiny chin.

They exchanged an intense stare.

A little intimidated, Angel chuckled softly. "You’ve got Daddy’s superbrain, don’t you?"

Brienne gurgled, kicking her little legs and waving her arms.

Angel snickered. "My baby girl. My half alien baby," she murmured with awe. "I love you, Brienne Wright-Daushur."

Gian seemingly chose a Celtic name for their daughter. But secretly, they knew that Brienne was the name of the Elder that blessed Gian on the day of his birth. He even remembered her face. The sound of her voice. Amazing.

In the distance, the backdoor closed. Angel’s ears perked. Already she knew who it was. "Daddy’s here. He and I are going to have some fun tonight. It’s been a while. Too long. Tonight, I’m going to remind him what desire is, believe me."

She licked her lower lip and eyed her baby warily. "It’s nine o’clock, past your bedtime. Or at least, past the one I want you to have. But you don’t want to hear anything about regular baby bedtimes, do you?" Angel crooned lovingly. "Well, neither did your brothers. They liked midnight. Just like you do!"

Brienne broke out in a big smile. With flailing motions, she tossed the blanket into a useless pile on her stomach.

Angel huffed. "I knew you wouldn’t be covered, as usual, that’s why you’re wearing thick winter pajamas."

Envisioning Gian’s movements around the kitchen, Angel supposed the only reason he hadn’t rushed in here to hold his daughter was because he was stuffing his face with an impromptu snack.

She waited impatiently for the sound of slightly uneven footfalls. Finally, they came closer, closer. A knot of expectation curled in her loins. Could he be persuaded to make love tonight?

Weighty footsteps crossed the threshold of their room. "Angel."

Throwing the last of a peanut butter laden cracker into his mouth, he gave her a bright smile. Wiping his hands on his pants, he reached in the crib and scooped his child into his big sturdy arms. "Brienne."

Angel gave him a wicked look from under her lashes. "I was hoping she would go to sleep."

"But baby isn’t asleep, is shhe?" he purred to Brienne, kissing her cheek, then a trail all around her face.

Angel’s heart welled to see father and daughter together. Gian’s voice was a low, gentle tone unlike any she’d ever heard. He developed and reserved it only for Brienne.

All Angel could hope was that he could do his magic and convince her to sleep, as he usually could. Locking her hands behind the small of her back, Angel circled around her sexy husband quietly like a predator, taking in all the sights. Such a big man being so tender to such a tiny person was erotic as hell.

But then, Angel mused, if he sneezed, she’d probably find the jerk of his body sexy, too. All day she’d stewed sensually, he filled her mind, her senses; every time he was near, she swore she felt his heat.

Angel smoothed her palm over her shrinking belly. He could hardly object. After all, she’d gained close to seven pounds since she gave birth. He couldn’t use her frail state as an excuse to refuse.

Gaze roaming the stretch of material over his thick upper arm, Angel envisioned it bared to her eyes and hands. Her lips. She imagined running her fingers through his thick silky hair. Preferably while locked in a passionate kiss.

"We should try to get her used to a regular bedtime, Gian. She and I were just talking about that." Angel dared to step into his personal space.

Gian gave her a bland, dry smile that broadened as he turned to Brienne again. "Mommy’s right. Little wonders like youu need regular sleep to get smart."

Circling around him again, she admired his wide, strong back. Gaze dipping to his perfectly proportioned hind end, Angel pressed her teeth into her lip. Mmm mm. But when he began reciting a ‘lullaby’ poem in Tro^ian, she backed off.

Essentially, it was an adorable little speech put to a slow rhythmic tempo, explaining to Brienne why she should go to sleep. Surprising, almost always when he put her down in her crib, she would turn over on her side and close her little eyes and go to sleep!

Gian had a magical way with his daughter and Angel was loath to interrupt them tonight.

Rubbing her shoulders on the bedpost, Angel studied her mark. Even though Gian had ‘turned human’ in his sensual appetite, he seemed completely unfazed by the sexual fast between them. Angel cooled a little, deciding to be very careful with him tonight. He still had many Tro^ian attitudes that would take years to diffuse and lessen.

Gian finished his little ‘song’ and twisted towards her, propping Brienne’s head up. "Say good night to Mommy."

Angel snickered. He was adorable.

Brienne smiled at her, her arms waving. "Mommy!"

Angel choked on air. Her legs went rubbery and she stumbled backwards. When she hit the mattress, she fell into a sit on the bed. "Oh my god," she moaned to herself. For a moment, she couldn’t draw breath.

Gian was at her side, waving his hand near her face. "Angel! Youu were supposed to be happy, not shocked."

"My six week old baby just called me Mommy, what do you expect?" she croaked, her head hanging low towards her knees.

Gian chuckled and caressed her back underneath her hair. "Aye am sorry. Aye wanted it to be a pleasant surprise. This is just the first of many words shhe’s learned to mimic."

Angel used the moment to her advantage and leaned against him. The fresh hay and alfalfa hung under her nose. She peeked around her hair at the crib.

Sure enough, Brienne was turned on her side, eyes closed, serenity sweetening her tiny face.

Then Angel realized this fainting spell could be used as an excuse not to make energetic love. She straightened and fanned her face. She even stood up to make sure he saw how well she was. "My, that was a shock, but I’m over it now. What do you mean, mimic?"

That bland dry smile curved Gian’s mouth again. "At first, she will mimic words frequently used. Shhe won’t come to understand them for another few months. And after that, shhe will learn very quickly."

Angel snickered wryly. "A few months? That long?" She stood and crept quietly to the crib to make sure Brienne was really asleep. Her breaths were nice and even, slow, Tro^ian slow, like her father. She turned and eyed her sexy husband, who hadn’t moved off the bed.

How very fetching he looked there. Her heart turned over in response.

"Did the mare foal finally?"

"Yes. A colt. Cute. Hhe’s a beautiful bay." Gian stood and walked to the end table. He took a long leisurely drink from her newly refreshed water bottle. "Angel, do youu mind if Aye breed Dasan?"

Would breeding horses put his mind on sex?...she wondered briefly. "Of course not. Do you have a lady in mind for him?"

Gian laughed quietly. "No. Not yet. But there are some prospects at the Cloverwood Stables. Aye have been talking with Jon about it. Wanted to make sure youu didn’t mind."

Angel grumbled under her breath. The subject of work was hardly foreplay. "I don’t. So, am I to deduce that you are finished with the workday now?"

From his profile, Angel saw him smile, then just as quickly mute it. By the time he turned to her, it was bland and dry like before.

"Yes. Aye thought youu might like to walk in the rose garden, look at the...buds, it’s a very warm night. The boys are downstairs, one of them would be very happy to sit with herr."

Angel surged with anxiety. "No. No walk, thank you for the lovely invitation. Maybe later."

Gian reached into the crib and fussed with the ruffle near Brienne’s head. "Youu have plans then?"

"No. I mean...yes. Er, no, not really."

Gian gave her an odd expression, his brows slightly knit as he walked past her. "Indecision, maye dearest wife?"

Angel’s stomach lurched as he headed for the door. "What about you?"

His hand paused on the knob and he looked over his big, luscious shoulder at her. "Aye can keep myself busy if youu wish to rest."

Angel exhaled sharply in horror at the idea. "No, I don’t need to rest!"

Gian curled his hand around the doorknob. He seemed innocently curious. "What then?"

She scrambled for any reason to keep him here. How could she break down his reserve if he left the room? "Well, I...hum...well," she cut off, no bright ideas popping into her brain. "Well, we could just...relax. Together."

"Relax?" His expression reflected guileless confusion. He closed the door.

Angel was pleasantly surprised he was still in the room. But quickly, she noticed the warm fire glow in his copper eyes. Suddenly, she understood. He knew. He always knew what she wanted, sometimes even before she did herself.

Gian swept away all her doubts when he flipped the lock.

Flinching at the subtle metallic click, Angel cooed softly. "You aren’t going to be hard to get?"

He raised his brows. "To maye mate, the mother of maye child?" He raked his gaze down the length of her. A steamy smile slowly curved his mouth up. "Perish the thought."

Angel suddenly felt like the goddess from before her pregnancy, attractive and desirable. Her lashes lowered demurely. "But it’s so early, what of intrusions?"

"The boys have friends over, four large pizzas and several rented movies. Lyndon and stable staff busy. Maye beautiful daughter is asleep. Are youu expecting any other intrusions Aye’ve not been informed of?"

"No." Angel worked hard to look prim. His sexy mood was more than she’d dared to hope for. "Is this just to service your primitive human bride and quiet her annoying deviant urges for a while?"

He closed the distance between them with several strides. Without breaking his rhythm, he reached out and grasped the back of her neck. Towing her a half step closer, Gian slid his other warm hand to the small of her back. "Oh, most definitely. Maye human mate is troublesome. Always burning hot. After mme for sex." He trailed slow kisses up her throat. "Aye have to suffer through herr deviant practices, like this," he murmured, licking across her lower lip. "Shhe even enjoys this…" He cupped one cheek of her derriere. "And this." His fingers gently slid toward her sensitive spots.

Angel was giggling and moaning at the same time.

Instead of touching her there, he smoothed his hand lower and lifted her thigh up, encouraging her to wrap it around his. "Shhe’s wanton and shameless," he baited before he covered her mouth with his.

Breathless by the time he let her up, Angel got no reprieve. He pressed into her intimate parts, rubbing slow and persuasively. "I’m so shameless I’m willing to beg for your service."

Gian chuckled. "The messenger angel that gave mme herr love, and a child, will never have to beg for anything."

Shaky, she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. "It’s been so long since we made love. Seems like a year," she complained. "You’re always under my nose, looking so good, being so loving. I’m happy you’re so in love with Brienne, because that means as long as I have her, you’ll always be near me." The second buttonhole eluded her clumsy fingers. "I can’t get this off this way!"

Gian released her. "Aye will never leave youu, Angel," he said in a heavy tone, his fingers curling around the lapels of his shirt.

Like a dream come true, he made short work of the buttons and whipped it off. Ooh, yeah. Angel feasted her eyes on the Chippendale beef. "Beauty, brains, and mine," she said thickly and wrapped her arms around his middle. She kissed up the deep valley of his chest, sucking lightly at the base of his throat.

As if he’d always been a passion-loving human, Gian scooped her up and gave her a smooch. One turned into another until they were breathless.

Suddenly, he lifted her off the ground, deposited her on the bed and came down on top of her. His heaviness sent a primal thrill through her. "Ohh, Gian, yes," she rasped.

Gian shoved his hips into her in a suggestive motion.

She inhaled sharply. His readiness to serve was plain against her softer parts.

He smoothed his hands up her legs and under her dress, dragging it upward until her position stopped him.

Angel hopped up and yanked it over her head. Her naked breasts bounced free.

He crooked one brow at her.

She blushed modestly for having been caught with no underclothes on. "Well, I was hoping."

The next minutes passed in a flurry of hungry caresses and kisses. His long hair tickled her arms as he feverishly kissed his way down to her breasts. He pushed them together and switched his attention back and forth to each nipple. "You do that so good," she praised hoarsely.

He caressed the swell of her hips. "Beautiful angel."

"Oh, Gian. I can’t wait! You know I’m no good at going slow, not when I want you so badly. You’re driving me crazy, please!"

Eyeing each other for a moment, they both rolled over to opposite sides of the bed. Drawers scraped open. Then slammed shut. Meeting in the middle of the bed again, they both held out a small, flat square packet.

Angel knit her brows. "Not that kind, that’s a thick, dry glove. Disease isn’t an issue..." She grabbed his and tossed it into the distance somewhere. "We get to use this good ultra-thin, lubbed kind, or have to, rather, since you’re not shooting blanks, stud. You’ll appreciate them, since it will feel almost like nothing."

The passion etched so clearly on his face sent Angel into a swoon. She flopped back onto the bed and stared wantonly, ripping the edge of her black packet open. "Present the wearer."

She tongued her lower lip as he released his belt buckle with a clank. His big fingers worked the snap of his black trousers free with a pop. He dragged the zipper down and spread his pants open. Thick, steel hard flesh sprang loose. Angel ran her fingers over the extra ribs and artful Tro^ian designs.

She eyed him from under her lashes. "No underthings tonight?"

"Aye was hoping..."

She tightly ringed the fat base and rolled the natural-skin sleeve down. "How does that feel?" she asked, giving a persuasive stroke, the condom sliding with her hand over the length.

He loosed a sexy grunt. "Good. Very good."

Angel tightened her hand over the swelled ridges just to hear him groan again. "I really was incredibly, incredibly thrilled when you first told me of your infertility, you know."

"Aye am sorry," he whispered hoarsely. He slid his fingers along her sensitive skin, until he penetrated her.

Shivers of delight rippled through her loins. "Oh, Gian, don’t apologize. Thank you for my daughter." She let go of him and lay back. "I’ve driven myself crazy wanting you all day."

With well-practiced grace, he probed his sheathed head through her moist skin until he seated and spread her to take him.

Angel nearly cried with pleasure when he pushed inside.

He worked into an aggressive rhythm. She lost all sense of time, clung and rolled with his plunges. As the sensation swirling in her loins grew heavier and heavier, Angel knew she was about to come, but he hadn’t even started that succulent pre-orgasmic throb of his.

Had to hurry him along. She tensed and released her inner muscles. Soon, his breathing grew hotter, harsher. That delicious pulse started. But she’d done herself in trying to bring him along. Determined to take him with her, she rocked in unison until he sucked in that telltale useless breath.

They lay intimately entwined afterwards, panting to catch their breath. Licking delicately on his neck, she marveled at the sweetness of his sweat. "That was good. You’ve learned the ‘thrust’ quite well."

Laughter echoed around in his throat. Caressing his palm over her shoulder, he stared heavy lidded. "Aye want youu again," he whispered ardently.

"Been a frustrating wait for you, too?"

"Mmm. Do youu suppose there is time? Wwe could wait."

"Wait? It’s been thirteen weeks, three days and seven hours since we made love last. And since Brienne’s not whimpering for her next feeding, we most definitely have the time. Why are you smiling like that?"

Gian chuckled. "You sound like Aye used to, precise and calculated."

"Oh, well," Angel purred and nestled closer to him. She carefully removed the sheath over his erection. "I have it on good authority that this is what the Elders had in mind by sending you here. To loosen up your stuffy, precocious Tro^ian ways, teach you how to relax and enjoy your life. And at the same time, you taught me to sharpen up and become more precise about the business of daily living. A very good trade off, don’t you think?"

Gian was frowning.

"What?" Angel reached behind her on the nightstand for a clean cloth.

"Aye don’t wish to hear about the homeworld."

She gently wiped him dry, afraid to get near any of his fertile seed lest she end up pregnant again. "There’s that denial again. You sound like I used to. We’ve switched our personalities around."

"Be quiet and kiss mme," he demanded roughly.

Angel curled her hands around his shoulders and gave him what he sought. Soon, he was nibbling down her throat. Warmth zinged through her veins. "We had a very rocky start, but I think we’ve really got this love stuff right finally, don’t you?"

Gian didn’t stop to talk. He grunted something in Neanderthal and kept kissing and nibbling down her belly.

She realized his goal and laughed, a little giddy. "I love you," she whispered breathlessly. His tongue tickled along her sensitive inner thigh, up high. "Oh, Gian, I never thought the love of my life would come from the sky. You’re my beautiful Tro^ian treasure. My exiled treasure…" was all she got out before he began his deviant assault on her senses.

With an endless flow of steamy romances in her mind every moment of the day, Belinda Palmer is a prolific writer of Science Fiction and Fantasy romance. An adventurer at heart but reclusive by nature, her dream is to live long enough to get them all onto paper before the afterlife begins.