Текст книги "Sleeping With the Enemy"

Автор книги: Kaitlyn O'Connor

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Thirteen

    Sybil watched the viewing monitor as the U.S.S. Cosmos settled into orbit around Venus, remembering the first time she’d come to the planet, fearing any moment that the Sumpturians would blow them to bits before they could report back to base. She didn’t think there was any chance of that this time, but the knowledge did nothing to tame the nervous quivering butterflies in her stomach. Unconsciously, she lifted a hand and coasted it lightly over the slight mound of her belly, remembering when Anka had appeared on the ship, remembering those first frightening hours on Venus, remembering the first time Anka had kissed her, the first time they’d made love to each other.

    She’d had nearly two months to do little besides think and she still had no idea what she was going to do beyond the fact that she absolutely refused to spy on Anka for her government. She didn’t believe he was any threat whatsoever to her country or mankind in general and she wasn’t going to betray the father of her child.

    She just didn’t know how she was going to protect their child and protect the father of her child at the same time.

    She still had trouble believing there was really and truly a baby growing in her belly even though she’d begun to feel feathery movements that told her she wasn’t just getting fat. As time passed she’d ceased expecting any day that she would miscarry and she’d allowed a tentative hope to bloom that it was alright and meant to be. She supposed it was that fear of letting herself accept when it seemed so unlikely that it was possible that made it so hard believe it was real and not some sort of strange dream. Soon it wouldn’t be hard for anyone to believe, though. By her calculations she was nearly half way through her term. There wouldn’t be any doubt once her belly began expanding, but for now no one seemed to have noticed and she meant to keep it that way as long as she could.

    It would give her time to figure out what she was going to do.

    It all depended upon Anka, really. If he’d lost interest in her or decided to simply ignore her because he’d taken a new lover then Meachum couldn’t expect her to report anything to him. That was the ticklish spot-just how vicious the bastard was. He might decide to have her sent back if she wasn’t of any use to him, in which case she might still be tried for treason and god only know what would become of her baby. She thought she might appeal to the Sumpturians for political asylum if he recalled her because she was more inclined to think he would want to punish her than let her go.

    She actually thought that might be her best course anyway-asking them to allow her to stay. It might be hellish living among a people completely alien to her, but it certainly wouldn’t be any harder on her than it would for her baby to live among humans.

    Unless it looked nothing like Anka. She found it hard to hope for that, actually, although she knew that would make her life easier. If it could pass as completely human, she might prevail on the Sumpturian government to take her back to Earth. The only upside to the chaos back home was that it was harder for the government to keep up with everyone than before. Of course, they tried harder than ever before, but between all the disasters that had forced people to move and the economic situation that also had everyone moving around, she thought she had a good chance of eluding them.

    The problem with that idea as a solution was that it could cause problems for the Sumpturians and they might not be willing to risk it for her sake-either by giving her asylum or helping her escape Meachum.

    And none of that was going to be an issue if Anka fell into their trap. She’d have to figure out some way to convince him to let her go to his quarters to escape surveillance. Then she could make up whatever she wanted to tell Meachum to appease him.

    It was awful to want to be with him and know that every time she was she would be risking discovery. Eventually, he would figure it out and he would hate her. As unhappy as it made her to think of him being with another woman, she thought that wouldn’t be as bad as the alternative. She didn’t want him to hate her.

    Sighing, she left the observation deck where everyone had gathered to stare at the world where they would be living for the next several years and headed back to her quarters. She’d packed her personal belongings up already and had nothing to do but sit and wait and think some more until she was summoned to the shuttle that would take them down to the planet.

* * * *

    The Earth people were certainly going to think they were delighted to have them, Anka thought wryly as he watched the excited activity of the crew that had been selected to prepare for the ‘welcome’ festival that had been planned. Not that that was a bad thing, all things considered. If they hadn’t been so enthusiastic about the opportunity to party they might’ve had trouble expressing any warmth at all and that might have created more animosity in an alliance that was already tenuous at best.

    He dismissed it. It didn’t matter if the Earth people got the right impression for the wrong reason. What mattered was that morale was higher than it had been in a very long time and it boosted his own spirits to see the young people actually happy and excited for a change. It had almost begun to seem as if their trials had turned them into old people, that they’d lost youth along with everything else. They needed the hopes and dreams of the young to build again as much as they needed material things.

    Satisfied that the group needed no encouragement or supervision-he’d never seen them work with quite as much enthusiasm-he left the ‘conference’ center they’d built that was a replica of the one the Americans had erected for the treaty talks. Once the festival was over and the Americans returned to the temporary Embassy they’d constructed, the ‘conference’ center could be used to house the colonists arriving from Pluto until the real construction began.

    It was uncomfortable to walk outside-still. Even so close to the northern pole, the temperature was usually miserable at the peak of the day, the air quality and atmospheric pressure oppressive enough to make any sort of activity a test of endurance, but he crossed the landscape toward their base on foot anyway. Despite the discomfort, it was a pure joy to walk on solid ground, to look up into a sky instead of the deck above, to see a sun and clouds instead of artificial lights and peeling paint.

    It was time he chose a new lover, he decided, ignoring the familiar tightening in his chest at the thought as he spotted the first shuttle drop toward the ground like a great bird to circle the landing field they’d cleared and leveled. He had little enthusiasm for it, but he knew damned well that everyone had begun to wonder about his lack of interest in looking for a woman. Theirs was a small community. Gossip was about the only excitement they had to look forward to and it was inevitable that he would become a target given his position. It annoyed him. He disliked the lack of privacy as much as he disliked the almost proprietary attitude they all had toward him.

    Regardless, he thought it was probably as important that they see him in a stable relationship as any of the other things he did to promote the sense of normalcy they all needed. Like it or not, he knew they looked to him for guidance in every aspect of their lives and he couldn’t expect them to begin rebuilding their civilization if he wasn’t willing to lead by example.

    Myune seemed interested in spite of the insensitivity, poor judgment, and worse manners he’d shown when he’d made the comment about her state around the time the humans had first arrived-when he’d first met Sybil. He was going to have to make it clear to Myune, though, that he wasn’t ready to father another child. His grief for those he’d lost was still too fresh for him to want to open his heart to another and risk more pain. If she couldn’t accept that, then he would choose another. It really didn’t particularly matter to him at this point, not when he knew he couldn’t have the one woman he truly wanted.

    The thought prompted memories he’d fought hard to banish from his mind and he struggled to push Sybil from his mind as he did every time the memories assailed him. He’d closed that chapter of his life. He wouldn’t be reopening it.

    It was harder to dismiss her than it would’ve been if he hadn’t discovered just how wrong he’d been about her. Right up until he’d seen the surveillance vids, he’d told himself that it was all an act on her part, that she couldn’t be trusted any more than any of the other humans. The counterassault she’d mounted against that worm, Meachum, had laid those doubts to rest-even while it raised fresh ones. It was indisputable that she hadn’t wanted any part of his plans, but the threats Meachum had made might well change all that.

    If she showed, he would know. He hoped to hell she didn’t. He hoped she would stand her ground and not cave in to empty threats and give him more regrets, but he wasn’t counting on it. He’d had a crash course on just how little faith one could place in humans. Deception and faithlessness seemed to be a part of their nature.

    Maybe he needed for her to show, he thought wryly. If she didn’t, he would be left believing she truly had cared about him and that was eating him alive, would make it hellish taking a new lover purely for appearances-because that was all it would be.

    He knew his people had been convinced he’d only taken Sybil as his lover for political purposes and hadn’t questioned his liaison for that reason-because they thought they knew his motives. That was the root of the gossip, the growing suspicion that it hadn’t been politically motivated and the only way to nix the gossip and appease them would be to take a new lover.

    It infuriated him, but he had to live among them, had to have their respect to continue to lead them, and he had a duty to his people that he couldn’t simply discard at will. Otherwise, he would’ve called them all together and told them fuck off and mind their own gods damned business!

    The shuttle he’d been watching settled to the ground at last and he paused, struggling with the urge to change directions and head to the landing field to see what, or who, had arrived. It occurred to him that he had a good excuse. He’d threatened his troop with bodily harm if they let on just how delighted they were to get their hands on the supplies, but they were young and not especially adept at guarding their emotions.

    He dismissed the urge and the excuse when he saw the door begin to open. Turning, he strode quickly to the base entrance and went in, calling himself a coward and walking faster. His

    heart was beating so uncomfortably fast when he reached his quarters that he felt downright lightheaded-the effects of walking outside, he told himself. If she was with them, he could be sure he would be forewarned long before the festival. He would have time to brace himself. He was going to need it. * * * *

    Sybil was so jittery with nerves she couldn’t be still. Her hands shook until it was nearly impossible to apply any makeup to her face without looking clownish. She finally discarded the idea of creating a masterpiece of perfection and settled for a little color on her pale cheeks and a few dabs of mascara to define her eyes.

    She hadn’t expected the Sumpturians to throw a party in their honor the moment they arrived. She’d thought it might be a possibility shortly thereafter, and worried about it, but they’d been told about the festival as soon as they’d been shown to their living quarters. Already on edge and struggling with nerves, that announcement had only made things worse and, contrary to all expectations, she’d grown more jittery as the time approached rather than more calm.

    With the exception of the gala on the moon, she’d never agonized so much over what to wear in her life. It had instantly popped into her mind to wear the sinfully expensive dress she’d bought for the gala, and then immediately occurred to her that that wasn’t the best idea for a number of reasons. A lot of the people, including Anka, were bound to remember the dress, which would make it clear that she didn’t have an extensive wardrobe-not that she especially cared about the impression it would make on anybody else, but she knew Anka would be there and it mattered what he thought. There was also the likelihood that Anka would think she’d done it to remind him, that it was an attempt to entice him back, and she was not only hoping that wouldn’t happen, she didn’t want him to think that was why she’d worn it. Beyond that, the moment she struggled in to it, another reason not to wear it became clear. The clingy black fabric that had set off her figure so well that night set off her blossoming shape with equal emphasis.

    Her waist had completely disappeared. Right up until she’d skimmed into the dress, though, she’d been convinced her belly was barely noticeable. One look in the mirror disabused her of that notion. She looked like a snake that had swallowed an egg.

    She promptly sat down and wept, ruining her first attempt at making up her face. When she’d stripped the dress off and washed her face, she lay down with a cool cloth over her eyes, trying to reduce the swelling of her eyelids. For a wonder, she fell asleep, a side effect of her pregnancy.

    She felt a little calmer when she woke. Her stomach till churned threateningly, but not as uncomfortably as before. That lasted until she began preparations again. Something very like fear began to permeate her pores, chilling her to the bone. The panicked thought leapt into her mind that she couldn’t go through with it. She wouldn’t be able to pretend to save her life-and that was what was resting on her performance-her life, and the baby’s.

    Calming herself down again with breathing exercises, she considered and discarded everything she owned and finally settled on the black dress again, trying to convince herself that it wasn’t as revealing as she’d thought. It was just nerves, just paranoia.

    She needed to wear it if there was any possibility that it might draw Anka to her, she realized with a sudden burst of enlightenment. Meacham would know if she didn’t at least make the effort. Resolve after so much uncertainty went a long way toward calming her and she finished dressing and left her quarters to gather with the others. Most of them were already in the lobby waiting. She folded her arms over her waist, hoping the purse she’d grabbed would help to conceal her condition as she’d thought it might.

    She didn’t attempt to join any of the conversations. She knew a few of them by sight since they’d been part of the treaty delegation, but she’d pretty kept to herself on the trip out. She didn’t know them any better now than she had before they’d left the moon.

    In any case, it hadn’t taken more than five minutes to realize that every one of them knew, or suspected, why she’d been included. They made that abundantly clear in the looks and whispers that followed her everywhere she went.

    Even if she hadn’t already been distraught about her situation and fearful of trusting anyone, that was enough to discourage her from attempting to find a friendly face among them, which was just as well. None of them went out their way to approach her and she thought they would have if they’d wanted to extend friendship or felt any empathy for her situation. It was the silent judgment, where no one actually knew anything for a fact, but had heard something, and then had decided they should be judge, jury, and executioner-because they disapproved of what they’d heard about you and accepted it as fact.

    That being the case, she was glad when the transport finally arrived to carry them to the building where the festival would be held, despite her anxieties. The relief, naturally, didn’t last until her arrival. She was as tight as tension wire by the time the transport docked and they began to disembark.

    They’d been told that conditions outside were safe enough to go out, but no one really wanted to test it-not on the word of the Sumpturians, certainly! Of course, even if they had been willing they wouldn’t have wanted to expose their finery to the elements.

    Ruefully, Sybil acknowledged that she was underdressed by their standards although she’d worried she would be overdressed for the occasion. Most of the Sumpturians had been in uniform the first time she’d attended one and it hadn’t appeared to be dress uniform at that. They seemed more inclined, particularly on this kind of occasion, to favor comfort over pomp.

    She saw she’d underestimated them as soon as she entered the ballroom. It was clear that they’d donned their best for the occasion. Her heart was beating about ninety miles an hour when she glanced around the room in search of the only person that mattered to her. When she spotted him it was like leaping from an airplane without a parachute. She sucked in a sharp breath instinctively, feeling as if her heart had stopped and the floor fallen out from under her.

    He was looking straight at her, but he had the advantage. Clearly, he’d spotted her first. His face was expressionless and she had no idea how he felt about her presence beyond the fact that, if he was glad to see her, he was hiding it excellently well.

    The urge to cry slammed into her like a stray bullet to the chest, the shock of the pain shattering her mind and knocking the breath from her before her mind could register that she’d been hit, leaving her confused. The instinct of the wounded animal to burrow into some small, tight space for protection followed upon the heels of the pain.

    It was fortunate that she was too frozen to move. She thought she would’ve turned and fled if not for that.

    One of the men, a member of her own party, took her limp arm and linked it with his. “I’ll escort you to a seat. They don’t seem to have put out place cards.”

    Sybil stared at the man blankly, trying to figure out who he was and why he’d suddenly begun to behave as if he knew her when she didn’t know him at all.

    He patted her arm. “Smile.”

    She struggled to curl her stiff lips into a smile obediently, still struggling with the bizarre sense that she was trapped in a nightmare. She didn’t know why he was behaving so familiarly but she was vastly relieved when he helped her to a seat and she could collapse. He took the seat next to her.

    “I’m Brant. We didn’t get the chance to meet on the voyage over.”

    Because he hadn’t made any attempt to talk to her? She was torn between the certainty that he must be one of Meachum’s watchdogs and a flicker of hope that he might actually have come to her rescue out of pure chivalry. “I’m sorry… Is that your first name or the last?”

    He grinned at her. “Sorry, force of habit. Lieutenant Cole Brant, USMC.”

    Sybil struggled to follow his lead. She had no idea whether he was friend or foe, but she was aware that her odd behavior must be noticeable and a sense of self-protection urged her to try to hide her vulnerability. She smiled back at him. “I’m First Lieutenant Sybil Hunter, Air Force.”

    “I know.”

    Her smile flat lined.

    “Uh oh. I guess I should’ve pretended I didn’t know, but I asked around…”

    He had the sort of ‘angelic’ pretty boy looks that usually hid the heart and soul of a devil and completely disarmed everyone around him. Sybil was hardly immune, but she was wary. She wasn’t certain she believed he’d ‘asked around’. “Why would you do that?”

    He looked genuinely surprised. He leaned closer. “Have you actually looked at the other women on the ship? Prune faced.”

    It was hardly a compliment and actually a little mean, but his outrageousness startled a chuckle out of her. She clamped a hand over her mouth. She encountered several disapproving looks when she flicked a glance around at the rest of their party. “That isn’t nice and it isn’t very flattering to me either.”

    Laughter danced in his eyes. “What? That I think you’re be-u-ti-ful… next to the competition?”

    She gave him a look. “Cocky aren’t you, pretty boy? You’re that certain there’s a competition?”

    “Why thank you, ma’am,” he drawled, although his face darkened slightly. “I’m glad you think I’m pretty.”

    Sybil shook her head at him, but she was actually grateful, whatever his motives, that he’d distracted her enough to allow her to regain her equilibrium. She was equally grateful to discover that the droids had begun to serve. Whatever he had in mind, she wasn’t buying.

    “Whoa! What are those things?”

    “Droids. Ank… I was told their scientists had developed them specifically for interacting with humans. They thought they wouldn’t seem threatening since they were small and humanoid in appearance.”

    “They’re creepy little bastards.”

    Sybil smiled with less effort that time. “My sentiments exactly.”

    “So… you met any of the aliens yet?” he asked conversationally once they’d been served.

    Sybil stiffened, flicking an assessing look at him. He either didn’t know her ‘history’ or he was damned good. “I was sent on the first mission to come here.”

    “Up close and personal, huh?”

    She felt her face heat. She still couldn’t decide whether he was just pretending he had no idea or if he really didn’t. The comment could have been innocent. She didn’t believe it, but then she’d ceased to really trust anybody. “You could say that.”

    “Where are you from… originally, I mean?”

    Strategic retreat? She responded a little absently, allowing him to lead her where he would while she divided her attention between her plate and surreptitious glances around the room until she finally located Anka once she had bolstered her nerves a little. Without surprise, she saw that the entire American group sat in a knot by themselves and ditto the Sumpturians. Without place cards, everyone had gravitated naturally toward their comfort zone, which meant their own kind.

    It was the shape of things to come, she feared, but she supposed the Sumpturians probably preferred it that way. They had no reason to like Earth people and every reason to dislike and distrust them. That might change-eventually-but it wasn’t likely to any time in the near future.

* * * *

    The turmoil did nothing to soothe the anger that had been slowly rising toward a boil from the moment the dark haired man had claimed Sybil and escorted her to a table. Despite his grim determination to ignore her presence, he hadn’t been able to resist searching for her among the Earth people. That had been his first mistake. He wasn’t prepared for the effect seeing her would have on him after so long. He’d thought that he was, but it had thrown him into complete disorder, instantly crumbling his resolve, demolishing the decision that he’d arrived at after a great deal of soul searching and consideration.

    He’d thought he’d succeeded in convincing himself that it was for the best for everyone concerned to leave well enough alone. It flickered through his mind the moment he spotted her, though, and felt the familiar yearning to be with her, that it wasn’t as if ignoring her would make the problem go away. He knew why she was here, what she’d been sent to do. He really had no choice but to pick up the game again.

    On some levels he was aware that his reasoning wasn’t nearly as sound as he would’ve liked to think. He’d considered the situation from the time he was informed that she was among the arrivals. He’d struggled with his feelings for her and realized the game had grown far too dangerous for him to play it any longer. He would make a mistake that he couldn’t afford, that none of them could afford.

    He didn’t think he’d made the decision not to approach her, however, so much as he’d been frozen in indecision, torn by equally opposing forces as to whether or not reason had anything to do with the urge to go to her. He hadn’t noticed the man until he’d slipped his arm through Sybil’s so familiarly and led her away.

    He supposed it was fortunate that shock had prevented him from doing anything unforgivably stupid at that moment. If he’d been able to follow the instant prompting of his instincts he was fairly certain he would’ve regretted it-not convinced on every level because it would have satisfied something dark and savage within him to have staked his prior claim with violence-but he was also sure the shockwaves from such an action would have brought about just the sort of thing he’d been working so hard to avoid.

    The shock that had held him while he watched the man walk away with what he’d come to think of as his had given him a few moments to consider, a window to remind himself that he couldn’t react on a purely personal level when so much was at stake. He’d hardly known what he was doing from that moment on, however. His mind had been so completely focused on what was going on between Sybil and the man that he’d had to rely entirely on force of habit and instincts to operate with anything approaching normalcy.

    He’d struggled to tear his mind from her and focus, but he couldn’t resist glancing toward them over and over and each time he did the anger churned a little hotter.

    “Sir?”

    Anka turned automatically toward the speaker and stared blindly at his adjutant, Minh, for several moments before he had any idea who’d spoken to him. A frown drew his brows down above the bridge of his nose as he struggled to figure out why his adjutant had addressed him at all. He could see from his expression that Minh was trying to prompt him about something he was supposed to do, but his search turned up nothing.

    “Will you announce the festival?”

    Anka’s mind leapt instantly to Sybil again. Despite that, the prompting pierced both his preoccupation and his rage, resurrecting some semblance of reason. He looked down at the table and realized he’d eaten without any memory of the process… and he couldn’t recall that he’d preceded the banquet with the welcome speech he’d so carefully prepared for their ‘guests’. “I haven’t done it already?” he asked blankly, feeling discomfort waft through him.

    “No, Sir,” Minh responded. “I thought you’d decided to wait until after everyone had eaten.”

    Anka blinked at him, feeling his face heat. “Yes. I didn’t see any point in holding everyone back with political posturing.”

    He surged to his feet abruptly. The moment he did, he caught the attention of everyone in the banquet hall and silence began to fall around him. For several unnerving moments as he stared out over the sea of faces, he searched his mind in vain for the speech he’d prepared and memorized. It refused to be jarred loose. Pasting a facsimile of a smile on his face, he discarded the effort. “My fellow Sumpturians-or perhaps I should say Venetians?-let us welcome our visitors and celebrate our new home with festival!”

    Everyone stared blankly at him for several moments after he sat back down. After exchanging puzzled looks, however, they began to evacuate their seats and to clear space in the center of the room for dancing.

    “You will be leading the first set, Sir?” Minh prompted him again.

    The question made Anka’s mind leap once more to Sybil. Fortunately, it also jarred lose a fragment of reason and he recalled abruptly that he’d not only intended to take part in festival, he’d told himself that it was time to take a new lover and make an effort to end the farce of a relationship that he’d fostered with Sybil. It would show her that he was not to be manipulated by her people’s machinations. It would show his people that his heart and mind were with them, as always.

    He felt vaguely nauseated at the public dismissal of his lover but angrily pushed it to the back of his mind. It had to be public to reassure his people. It had to be a statement that hers couldn’t ignore.

    “Of course,” he said, rising stiffly and resolutely refusing to look in her direction. The excitement of the others didn’t soothe him or bring the turmoil in his mind into any sort of order. It irritated him, made it more of a struggle to put on even a pretense of anticipation. It was fortunate that he’d taken part in so many festivals in his time that his body had memorized the steps and responded automatically. His mind wasn’t on the dance or the music or any of the attractive young females swirling around him. His mind was on Sybil.

    The first dance had nearly ended before he emerged from his preoccupation enough to realize that he’d been too focused on Sybil even to look around for a potential lover. It sent a jolt through him when he discovered that Lonlea, Hybah, and Myune were all sending him smiling signals of interest. Abruptly feeling as awkward as a youth, he missed a step and felt his face redden. All three giggled. It was pure accident that his gaze settled on Myune. In point of fact, he didn’t even realize that he was staring back at her so pointedly until she broke formation and squeezed into the set next to him.

    Oh gods, he thought, instantly stricken with panic. Of all the women he might have settled upon, Myune was probably the worst choice. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a very attractive woman. She was. Unfortunately, she was also extremely possessive and prone to fits of temper.

    She also took and discarded lovers with a frequency that proved she was either impossible to please or had no real interest in long relationships.

    Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought? It would appease the gossips and no one would expect it to last.

    With a sense of fatalism, he forced himself to meet her gaze and smile back at her. The instant he did, a commotion near the doors caught his attention. When he looked up, he saw that Sybil had surged from her seat. She met his gaze for a long moment and then lifted her chin at him and turned away, heading toward the door. He felt like he was going to throw up. Before the sickness could swell toward his throat, the bastard that had been all over since she’d arrived leapt from his seat and hurried after her, slipping an arm around her waist.