Chapter 34

Jane

N ext morning, I wake once more to that possessive hand roaming over my body. I can see that this is going to become a habit for my husband-to-be. I can have no complaints. Broek’s hand comes to rest warmly on my mound and again, I feel that sense of certainty that I belong—with him.

My husband-to-be, my mind thinks sleepily. And then comes another thought, which I voice out loud, albeit in a low croak, “When shall we get married?”

“I was just about to bring the matter up with you,” he rumbles at my side. The hand that covers my mound moves lower, and I startle as fingers probe the soft flesh beneath.

“Ah, that tickles!” I groan.

“Hush, Duchess and be still,” he admonishes. His fingers continue their wicked exploration, and I groan once more, though this time more in pleasure than surprise.

“About the wedding,” I remind him breathlessly.

“It will happen today,” he states decisively. “After breakfast, we shall all go to see Reverend Horton.”

I laugh despite myself. “That is not how it is done, Broek.” I speak with a degree of expertise in the matter, having walked down the aisle before. “One must first call the banns. By all means let us see the reverend, but we cannot marry for another three weeks.”

“We shall marry today,” he repeats stubbornly. I wriggle helplessly as the hand at my mound finds my joyful nub and begins to rub it gently.

“But Broek—”

He covers my body with his. “Shh, no more talk,” he chides, then fills me with one determined thrust of his male shaft. Next moment, his lips claim mine and all thoughts of a wedding fly out of my head.

Later, as we dress together in my chamber, I think to quiz him on the matter some more. “Jane,” he sighs wearily. “Do pay me the respect of knowing what I am about.” At my mutinous expression, he adds, “I took the precaution, on my last visit to London, to obtain a special license. We can and will get married today.”

“Oh,” I say, pausing with a shoe in my hand. “You had thoughts to marry me all that time ago?”

His look is searing. “Duchess, I reached the conclusion that you must marry no one but me the day after our dinner party.”

I am doubtful of this, flattering though it may be. “Yet you were at pains to get me to sell Penhale Manor and leave.”

He comes to me then and takes my hand, placing a gentle kiss to it. “Humans are not always logical beings, Jane,” he says gruffly. “My head told me you had to leave, but my heart knew you were mine.” He leads me out of the chamber, saying as he does so, “Besides, even had I let you leave, I would have continued to keep my eyes on you. Sooner or later, I would have come to claim you.”

And so, later that morning, we arrive at the church, Broek, Liora, Horis, Simor and I. My dictatorial husband-to-be takes Reverend Horton aside and speaks to him. I do not know exactly what is said, but it must convince the vicar for a short time later, Broek and I stand at the altar and exchange our vows. As I speak these words once more, I am struck by how much truer they are, second time around. I had loved Giles in a gentle way and was grateful to him for plucking me out of my life of servitude. My feelings for Broek are anything but gentle. I love him fiercely and with the possessiveness of a tigress.

When it is my turn to say the words of the service, I do so with a fervour missing in my previous marriage ceremony. “I, Jane Eleanor Cavendish take thee Brook Phineas Reeves to my wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey—” I ignore Broek’s raised brow and carry on, “till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

Throughout the rest of the proceedings, I am aware only of the warmth of Broek’s hand on mine and the burning flare of his dark gaze. The reverend concludes the service, with the words, “I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” A final blessing is given, then we sign the register, give our thanks to the reverend and return to Reeves Hall as man and wife.

Later that afternoon, we gather on the moor to bid farewell to all those that have decided to return to Uvon. They will be flying up in a machine called a shuttle to join the ship that awaits them in space, high up in the sky. Broek explained it all to me, though I confess I did not fully understand what he said. There are a dozen people leaving today, including that glowering Amazon, Catana. I cannot but be relieved to see her go. Someone who I shall not be glad to say goodbye to, however, is Betsy, who is leaving with Velnas to make a new home for themselves on Uvon.

We have left Reeves Hall via the back gate and traipsed for a half-hour over scrubby land. Now Broek stops and points ahead of him. “There it is,” he says.

I follow the direction of his hand and see nothing but empty moor before us. “Where?” I ask. “I do not see it.”

“That is because it is cloaked. Its exterior mirrors the environment around it so as to hide it from view.”

I am puzzled. “Then how is it you see the shuttle?” I ask pertly.

“It is subtle, but I can tell the grass does not sway with the wind way yonder,” replies Broek.

I look again and see what he means. It is so small a thing as to be unnoticeable unless one is clearly looking for it. We resume our walk towards the shuttle. A few moments later, we reach it. I cannot see anything before me except for grass and sky, but when I hesitantly extend a hand forward, I feel the cool touch of metal. It is like magic. This then is the contraption that will fly these people high into the sky. It is unfathomable to me how it can be done, but I do not doubt Broek’s words.

A door slides open, and I watch as trunks, furniture and other baggage are loaded into the shuttle. Keeping hold of Broek’s hand, I peer inside. I see a large circular space with leather seats and a luggage bay to one side. There are some flashing buttons along a panel on one wall. I say a silent prayer that I shall not be one of the people travelling on this contraption today. Perhaps ever, though if Broek decides one day that he wishes to return to his homeland, then I shall gather my courage and go with him.

Then it is time for farewells. There is Gav’ox, one of the guards, who likes to get drunk on some brew called krilk. Stroxol is leaving too, as well as Croris, the young lad who served us our food at Penhale Manor the other day. There are several more people whose name I do not know, and Catana. And then of course, there is Betsy. We embrace tearfully. She has been with me since my marriage to Giles, and I shall miss her dreadfully. We say our goodbyes, then one by one, they enter the shuttle. The door slides shut. Broek pulls at my hand. “Time for us to move to a safe distance, sweet duchess,” he coaxes, guiding me several yards away. From this distance, I can barely see the shuttle, but I hear the loud roar of its engines as they start up. The air around us trembles with the force of it.

I shiver in fright and sensing this, Broek draws me close to his body. “Shh, duchess,” he whispers in my ear. “There is nothing to fear.”

The roar becomes louder and louder, and through the shuttle’s cloak, I notice licks of orange flames gathering at its base. The sound becomes unbearably loud, almost like a piercing whistle. And then it is quiet once more. “That’s it,” says Broek. “They are gone.” He stares at the spot where once was the shuttle, his look almost wistful.

“Do you regret not going?” I ask uncertainly.

He huffs and gathers me tight. “There are times when I miss my old home, Jane, but never in a million years will I ever regret staying here with you. Do not doubt that for even a second. It is done now, so let us return to the house.”

We begin our walk back to Reeves Hall, along with the others who have come to say their farewells. I look sideways and spy Liora, walking a few paces to our right. Her expression is somewhere between glum and irate. The Reeves siblings may have voted overwhelmingly to stay on Earth, but not Liora, I suspect. Her eyes meet mine and for an instant, I see fury in her regard before she looks away and marches off. Broek follows my stare and sighs, “Liora had wished to return to our homeland. She chafes at the restrictions to her freedom here.”

“Another captive at Reeves Hall?” I scoff.

“Not a captive, no, but as a female here in England, she is not free to live her life on equal terms with men, not like she would on Uvon.”

I ponder this. I had not given much thought to the fact that men have a greater power than women in our society. I just accepted it as the way the world was. But having lived in subservience for many years in my aunt’s household, I can sympathise with Liora’s plight. I am glad though, that she did not have it her way and convince her brothers to travel back to Uvon. “Well,” I say after a moment of consideration. “She shall simply have to find a way to win her freedom, much as in the end, I won mine.”

“Perhaps so,” smiles Broek, and we resume our journey to the house.