Page 74 of The Gathering Storm

Chapter Twenty

Early Monday morning, Sigrid woke with Will wrapped around her. She lay there for a moment, still half asleep, reveling in the warmth of his body against hers.

Today they confronted his mother.

She burrowed her head into the pillow and shoved the worry aside. There was plenty of time for that later, just not now in the remnants of a weekend spent with the man she loved.

Will sighed into her hair and his hips shifted against hers. He grunted and buried his face in her nape, and the hard length of his arousal pressed against her ass. “Mmm. I love waking up next to you.”

A small smile played around the corners of her mouth. “You want sex.”

“Damn skippy. C’mere, woman.”

But she didn’t have to. His hands tugged her panties down and pushed her onto her belly, and he slid into her slick heat, loving her until they both panted their releases out into the bedroom’s early morning chill.

Later, after breakfast and a shower, Sigrid chose her clothes carefully, oddly numb around the lump growing in her stomach. Will slumped on the edge of her bed, buttoning a crisp, white dress shirt over an equally white t-shirt, his expression calm.

She placed a hand over her stomach and closed her eyes. Where was her own calm, so readily at hand through battles and matings and the odd politics inherent to any gathering among the People?

Lost, she feared, under the stress of the past few weeks.

Her fingers clenched into a knot against the raw silk dress she wore, and the lump in her stomach leapt into her throat, lodging there.

What was she going to do, now that she’d discovered her heart?

Warm hands cupped her shoulders and drew her back against Will’s solid length. “I love that dress.”

She half turned toward him, her head bowed. “Thank you.”

“You look stunning in red.” His hands slid down her arms and landed on her hips, and he pressed a kiss to the side of her throat. “You look stunning in anything.”

She laughed lightly, tried to. It came out wrong, choked and stunted, not the fearless humor of a warrior well honed.

“Hey, now,” he said, and his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, safe. “It’s going to be ok. Trust me.”

“I do,” she murmured.

“Yeah?”

Always, she thought, but the single affirmation stuck in her throat, unable to escape the fear clogging her voice.

“Mom will back down,” Will said. “You’ll see.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

His shrug shifted his shirt against her bare arms. “We’ll deal with it, one day at a time.”

She closed her eyes and relaxed against him. One day at a time. Such simple ease over the nightmare awaiting them.

Not long after, they bundled up and headed toward Anya’s house, the site of the mediation Will had negotiated on Sigrid’s behalf, without her being aware of his intent. She’d said not a single, chastising word to him when he’d told her on Saturday night, merely placed her hand over his and quietly asked what she could do.

Anything. That was the least of what she’d do for him.

Wilhelmina and Troy were already there when Will parked Sigrid’s car along the curb in front of Anya’s house. They exited the vehicle in unison, strode up the sidewalk, her gloved hand in his, their breaths frosting in the icy air.

Snow later, a fitting harbinger to the day’s duty.

Anya’s little mouse of an assistant greeted them at the door and took their outerwear, then led them to Anya’s library. Four chairs were arrayed in front of Anya’s Mission Style desk, in groupings of two centered at each front corner of the desk.

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