Chapter Eighteen
Natalia
I knew that he was growing suspicious of me. So when the brown-haired man with glasses and a straight, military posture arrived at the island, and Alaric took the time to introduce me to him, I knew something was up.
He even invited the man—Eric, no last name given, a faint accent in his voice as well—to dinner, and it surfaced that Eric had been a medic, in some mysterious time and some mysterious war that no one ever got around to explaining to me. I knew he was more than a medic; he was a doctor, and Alaric was introducing him to me so that when he examined me I would not be afraid.
At first I was pissed off.
But then it occurred to me that it was a roundabout way of getting what I wanted; I could find out what Alaric’s reaction would be without having to tell him myself. And then I would know what to do. I could save myself the potentially crushing experience of him looking at me across the table, disappointment falling over his face, and then telling me to get rid of it.
We had a nice time, even taking a sailboat out of the cove and into the blue waters, where there was nothing but ocean and us. Weeks before it would have been depressing to me, suffocating even, to be sailing out in the endless blue, with no way home and no land in sight, nothing but Alaric to keep me from disappearing into the water.
Instead, it was a beautiful day, and he was in one of those moods where he looked at me with tenderness. With the wind in my hair and the sun on my face, I could almost imagine that everything could work out, that I could have the baby of a man like Alaric, whatever he did, whoever he was. Watching him trim the sails, feeling his hand on my arm as he caught me when the boat tipped and I slipped, feeling his chest as he pulled me close... I was swept up. Did it matter what kind of man he was to anyone except me?
I started to feel like I could tell him, like I could divulge my secret.
We arrived late; the sun had long since set, and the two of them had caught several fish they were going to cut up into ceviche. I never got out much, and I was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to eat raw fish when you’re pregnant, so I put on my best smile and shook my head. “I don’t think I’m brave enough for that,” I told him.
“No,” he said, almost too suddenly. “No, of course, we’ll grill it.”
I was tired. I had gotten too much sun, even though Alaric had thoughtfully brought sunscreen and helped me apply it, and I had been wearing a hat.
“The water makes you tired,” Eric said, as my eyes grew heavy. They were into the whiskey, and I had taken a sip of my white wine for show. “Oh, man,” I said, feeling too drowsy to stay up. “I think I have to go to bed...”
Alaric took me upstairs, carrying me the last flight of steps. I was going to make a sarcastic remark, but instead I just smiled at him. When he lay me down in bed, he kissed my forehead. His lips were warm and dry, and my eyes felt heavier as I thought of the satisfaction I felt at that moment. “Get some rest,” he said. “Maybe you need a break from the sun tomorrow.”
I fell asleep, feeling warm and hopeful, the idea that I could find a way to be happy with him—and he with me, maybe—lifting my dreams into feathery fantasies.
I woke up because I was cold. The window was open, and as happened often, the ocean breeze had gotten chilly. A storm was gathering in the distance.
Stories below, the glow of the torches that lit the patio where we had been preparing the fish were still flickering and I could hear the low voices of Eric and Alaric. I wondered what time it was; it seemed late.
I became thirsty, and it was overwhelming. Usually there was a pitcher of water in the room, brought by maids I almost never saw and who quite obviously wouldn’t have been able to talk to me even if they had wanted to. Curiously, none of them seemed to be from the same place, and they rotated out frequently, which was one of the many aspects of Alaric’s home that made me uneasy.
But there was no water here. I’d have to go downstairs.
I decided to creep down there. It might have been true that I was going down there for water, but it was also true that I relished the chance to eavesdrop. Alaric was obviously old friends with this guy; I had seen him interact only with people who were his employees, or with Andrej. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see what he was like to someone who was a friend.
Their conversation seemed light enough as I approached. I even heard Eric laugh, and so I crept ever closer, from the living room side of the house. They were speaking in low voices, so I had to creep behind the low stucco wall to hear them.
My feet got tired from crouching after just a few minutes, and I couldn’t really understand what they were talking about, anyway. Names and places, none of them recognizable. The kind of banter between old friends—“Have you heard from Bryce, do you know whatever happened to Ryker?” I got bored, and I was getting ready to go to the kitchen for my water, when there was a pregnant silence, and then Eric took a deep breath.
“Tell me why I’m here, mate.”
I froze. I knew, somehow, that it had something to do with me. Eric’s tone didn’t sound good.
I heard the strike of a match, and on its heels the scent of a cigarette wafted over the wall.
“I told you.”
