Page 137 of Stardust Child

“Do you want me to?” she asked, thrilled and frightened at the idea, and curious what it would look like. His body was so strange and wonderful.

“Not tonight.” When he rolled over her, it was with a fluid ripple of muscle, his wide shoulders casting her into shadow. And it was just as exciting to give herself up to him, to completely inhabit his every touch, every kiss, every caress.

“Remin…” she pleaded, her hips arching toward him. “Please…”

They moaned together when he slid back inside her, and the sound of their voices rising together was arousing all by itself. Stars, how his voice made her shiver, the huffing sound he made when he was excited, his deep groan as her body tightened on him, tugging him deeper inside her. And those perfect moments when their bodies came together in flawless rhythm, when it seemed that they werebreathingtogether.

Again. And again, when he rolled her over and took her from behind, hot and urgent, sinking his teeth into the back of her neck. He filled her again and again and she loved it when he did, and loved it when he turned her over to kiss her flat belly afterward, as if blessing the night’s work.

“Is there any sign yet?” he asked, trailing a line of tender kisses to her navel.

“No,” she admitted reluctantly. Honestly, she had no idea what these signs might be, but nothingseemedany different. Nothing in her reading explained how it happened, or what to look for, and she could only assume that Remin was doing whatever he was supposed to do to make a baby.

Ought she already know this? Remin seemed to think so.

“Mmm.” He stretched out beside her and kissed her. “There is time. We’re safe in the valley. Don’t worry yourself.”

“I want it, too,” she said, reddening. It was true, though she was also still trying to get herself used to the idea that it would really happen, that sooner or later she would carry and bear a little son or daughter. It was the carrying and bearing that unnerved her. Her own body was an even greater mystery to her than his. But the thought of having a Victorin or Sidonie at the end of it, little black-haired babies just like their father, made her indescribably happy.

“When the stars grant it.” His deep voice rumbled with contentment. “I just want to see them…”

He hardly ever fell asleep first. But in a few minutes his breathing was deep and even, and he must have been so tired, after so many cold, dangerous, sleepless nights. Gently, Ophele touched his cheek, admiring his exotically tilted eyes. He looked younger when he was asleep.

Though it was warm and comfortable in his arms, she slipped out of bed to build up a fire. It had been very cold at night lately, cold enough that she had awakened a few times, shivering under the blankets. How wonderful to have the option of a fire. There had been many cold nights at Aldeburke, but back then, there was nothing to be done but curl up smaller.

Scooping up his wet clothes, she hung them over a chair to dry and then padded to their dressing rooms to fetch fresh clothes for him for the morning, and a new chemise for herself. He could not get into the habit of tearing her clothes off her, she would never be able to explain it to Emi and Peri.

The thought made her smile. Pausing in the door of the bedroom, she looked at him, lying on his side like a small mountain range in their vast bed. His black hair was sticking up in tufts.

Thank the stars, he was home.

* * *

“Don’t glare at him,” Ophele whispered as they parted the next morning, each to their own dressing rooms. Her face was still pink from Remin’s vigorous morning salutations. “He’s been working very hard on your wardrobe.”

Many things had changed while Remin was away.

“Your Grace,” said the small, gray valet, whose presence underscored the necessity of getting Ophele a proper morning robe. He bowed without meeting Remin’s eyes. “Welcome home. I am Magne.”

“Her Grace tells me you’ve been improving my closet,” Remin replied, turning the heavy key to his dressing room. Ophele had explained that even Magne had not been allowed into his dressing room without her supervision, a restriction that Remin heartily approved. “When did you arrive?”

“Two weeks ago, Your Grace. Oh—I will show you,” the smaller man added, moving in a scuttling half-bow toward the closet. “I have been working.”

“I see that.” Remin paused in the door of the closet, his eyes going over the neatly hung clothing, grouped by type and by color. He hadn’t known he had so much clothing. “All this is mine?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Magne busied himself in the racks, flipping rapidly through the articles to produce a blue brocade jerkin and freshly laundered linen shirt. “Lady Verr, she said today Her Grace will wear blue. Today is important. Breeches?”

“Well, if it’s an important day,” Remin said dryly, watching as Magne produced charcoal breeches and black hosen, both impeccable. Had Duchess Ereguil sent another shipment? The armload of clothes all smelled pleasantly of soap, and he shifted back into the dressing room to change, eyeing his new valet.

There was not a nobleman in the Empire that did not have at least one. And the tidy closet filled with clean clothing was certainly agreeable. But Remin did not like dressing with another person in the room. At all. Magne did tie the laces of his jerkin far more neatly than his own impatient knots, but it made him deeply uncomfortable to let strangers near him. His face hardened into deep, forbidding lines as Magne arranged his doublet, watching the old man’s hands for the least suspicious movement.

“There, there it is nice, Your Grace.” Magne backpedaled speedily, waving his hands. “I will get your boots.”

“Thank you,” Remin made himself say, sitting down in the only chair. He wasn’t sure he could get used to this.

“No jewelry?” Magne extended a pair of high boots with both hands. It was half question, half complaint.

“I do not care for jewelry.”

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