Page 90 of Chosen By Swift

“As soon as I Grabbed her,” Swift lied. Technically, he wasn’t lying. Grabbing and collaring was as good as marrying to his people. “If you’d like to see our marriage certificate, I’ll be happy to have a copy sent to you.”

As soon as I call in a favor and get the date changed on the copy...

“Oh, darling, congratulations!” Jimmie hugged Alys again. “I wish I could have been there.”

“I wish you all could have been there,” Alys said, her voice thick with emotion.

“What’s this?” A grouchy old man shoved open the screened door and stepped out onto the porch. The door slammed behind him, bouncing in the frame, and Swift noticed the way all of the children flinched, even the grown ones. Alys’ father fixed his glare on his daughter and sneered, “So, the whore came back.”

“Who are you calling whore, old man?” Swift snarled. He ignored Alys’ hand on his arm, silently urging him not to engage. “I’m sure you didn’t mean my wife.”

“What else would you call a girl who ran off in the middle of the night to be chased and dragged away by some alien brute?”

“Smart,” Swift replied matter-of-factly. “Determined.”

“Determined to shame her family!”

“I think you’ve done a good enough job of that yourself,” Swift remarked.

“Swift,” Alys whispered, her fingers clenching his arm in fear.

“You should have saved yourself the trip,” her father remarked, ignoring the barb at his shameful treatment of his family. “She’s not welcome in my home.”

“Father, please, I—.”

“You’re lucky I don’t come after you with a strap right now! Shaming us the way you did! Have you any idea what trouble you left behind? How much money we lost? How you dishonored my friendship with Wendel?” The old man hooked his thumbs under his belt and drew back his shoulders, almost as if trying to make himself look bigger and more intimidating. “It’s your fault your mother is dying! You abandoned her when she needed you most. For what? To run off and be some filthy slut for a sky warrior? You selfish, lazy, shameful—!”

“Enough!” Swift bellowed. Fury welled within him, and he handed Davie to Brandon. “Insult my wife one more time, and you’re going to be the one who feels the burn of a strap.”

“How dare you!” Her father erupted with indignation. “You have no right to come here and tell me how to talk to my children!”

“Someone needs to tell you,” Swift growled.

Before their argument could escalate, they were interrupted by the arrival of Jimmie’s nephews. Swift had been expecting two or three young men, but there were seven of them jumping off their horses. Adam and Jack rushed out to intervene, and Brandon thrust Davie right back into Swift’s hands. Brandon and Clive rushed after their brothers.

Certain a melee was about to erupt, Swift snatched up Darby, too. “Go inside, Alys. Take your sister and the children with you.”

Aly’s father shoved by them, shouting like a madman, and pushed Jimmie so hard she fell onto her backside. Torn between keeping Alys and the young boys safe and helping Jimmie, he chose Alys and quickly trailed her up the stairs of the porch and into the house. Alys rushed to the staircase with Wendy close behind. He placed Darby and Davie on the nearest couch. The other three young children hopped onto the chairs next to them.

Crouching down, he eyed the children and sternly warned, “Don’t leave your seats until your mother or Alys returns. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they answered in nearly perfect unison.

Certain they would behave and stay out of trouble, Swift rushed back outside to survey the chaos. Jimmie had long since gotten to her feet and was right in the thick of it, slapping Alys’ father with some kind of thin tree branch. It would have been comical if it hadn’t been so utterly outrageous. Jack and one of the nephews were exchanging blows while Adam and Brandon tried to calm down the other men who were itching to fight.

“Swift!” Alys called out to him, and he instantly darted back into the house. She stood at the top of the stairs and desperately beckoned him to join her. “Please! Hurry!”

Fearing the worst, he took the stairs two and three at a time until he was at her side. She grabbed his hand and dragged him into a bedroom at the far end of the hall. The windows were open, and there was a breeze, but the smell of something putrid and awful struck him. He steeled his expression as he followed Alys into the room.

The sound of ragged breathing and crying filled the room. Swift noticed a young woman—probably Bonnie, if he had to guess—on the left side of the bed. She clutched her mother’s swollen hand as if afraid to let go.

He winced at the sight of Alys’ mother. Her skin had a strange pallor, and she was showing signs of edema. There was a pile of bloody linens in the corner of the room. Her belly was still round, as if pregnant, but with the amount of blood on the linens, he wasn’t sure if the baby was still alive. Something very, very wrong was happening here.

“Can you help our mother?” Wendy asked, speaking to him for the first time. She crouched next to the bed and tried to rouse her mother. “She’s burning up with fever.”

“Swift?” Alys asked, her voice filled with worry.

“I can have her transported to the outpost, and if they can’t treat her, they’ll send her on a Dart to theMercy.” He glanced at the window where the sounds of the fighting and arguing down in the yard drifted into the bedroom. “What about your father?”

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