15. Clair
CLAIR
Clair stood beside the breakfast table and watched Kaelus disappear down the corridor with Doctor Sendar, trying very hard not to think about the fact that her entire body was still tingling from the places her fake husband had kissed her.
But no matter how she tried to push the thought away, it wouldn’t go.
Her lips felt swollen from his kiss and her nipples were still tight beneath the soft metallic fabric of her dress, from the way his mouth had pressed against them.
But worst of all was the warm, throbbing ache between her thighs where he had knelt and kissed her so intimately through the thin fabric of her gown.
She could still feel the heat of his mouth there and the firm pressure of his big hands on her hips as he pulled her closer, almost as if he had forgotten that there were other people in the room watching them.
In fact, for a few seconds Clair had forgotten about them too. All she had been able to think about was Kaelus kneeling in front of her with his face pressed between her thighs and how badly she had wanted him to lift her skirt and finish what he’d started.
Stop it, she told herself firmly. He already made it clear last night that nothing is going to happen between you. The man practically drew another black line down the middle of your relationship and told you to stay on your side.
Unfortunately, her body didn’t seem to care.
“My dear, are you all right?”
Maera’s voice startled her out of her thoughts and Clair looked around and saw that the other woman was watching her with an amused little smile on her face. Varell had left the room as well, apparently going to attend to his duties with the Council, so the two women were alone.
“I’m fine,” Clair said quickly. Then she realized she was still standing with one hand resting unconsciously over the place Kaelus had kissed between her thighs and jerked it away. “Absolutely fine.”
Maera’s smile widened.
“Of course you are.”
Clair gave her a quizzical little smile.
“I’m sorry—am I missing something?”
The other woman shook her head.
“Oh, no—nothing.”
Clair raised an eyebrow.
“That was definitely not a nothing smile.”
Maera laughed softly.
“I was simply thinking that your husband seems to be learning our customs very quickly.”
“Oh, he’s a fast learner,” Clair said dryly. “When he wants to be.”
Maera nudged her gently with an elbow.
“And he clearly wanted to be when he was worshipping you.”
Clair felt heat rise into her cheeks.
“It was just a ritual,” she protested, blushing.
“Was it? Or was it a new way for a husband to learn about worshipping his wife? Perhaps something neither of you had ever thought of before but liked very much,” Maera said, smiling.
“Oh, well…I guess you could look at it that way,” Clair said. Could Maera be right? Was Kaelus really eager to practice the Titus Four customs on her? Even though he was so gruff and growly about being made to participate, did he secretly enjoy it?
“I know only what I see.” Maera began gathering the remains of breakfast from the table.
“And what I see is a male who watches you every moment you are near him, moves between you and anything he considers dangerous without even thinking about it, knows what you like to eat, becomes angry when another male admires you, and nearly forgot where he was when he kissed you goodbye.”
“Wow—you got all that just from watching us together at breakfast?” Clair was stunned.
Maera shrugged.
“I’m very observant.”
“Well…” Clair said. “Kindred males are naturally protective of women.”
Maera looked interested.
“Of all women? Not just their mates?”
Clair nodded.
“Yes. A Kindred would never hurt a woman—that’s one reason what’s happening on the Glenvarren colony where the males were infected with Savage Syndrome is so awful.
I mean with my people—humans—you see men killing women all the time.
It’s awful, but it’s true. But with the Kindred?
” She shook her head. “Never. A Kindred male would rather die than hurt his mate. It makes what’s happening even more tragic. ”
“It would be unthinkable for a male to kill his wife here, too,” Maera said soberly. “Which is one reason I’m eager to help you find the reason the Love Virus makes males loving here on Titus Four but turns them into sexual beasts on other planets.”
“Thank you.” Clair nodded. “You and your husband are so kind to host us and help us with our research.”
“It is the least we can do to help promote peace in the universe,” Maera said quietly. She patted Clair’s arm comfortingly. “Come with me. I think you are going to enjoy our healing conservatory very much and maybe we’ll find some answers there.”
She led Clair from the dining area and through another part of the sprawling house, then out through a wide archway into the morning sunshine.
The air outside was warm and fragrant, but not unpleasantly hot, and the smaller of Titus Four’s two suns was just beginning to rise above the distant lavender mountains.
Its pale light mingled with the warmer gold of the larger sun and made the silver trunks of the surrounding trees sparkle as though they had been dusted with diamonds.
They followed a winding path through the garden and Clair immediately began looking everywhere at once. Titus Four was a Xenobotanist’s dream. Plants grew in every imaginable color and shape she could imagine—and some she couldn’t.
Some had translucent leaves that changed from blue to pink when she passed them, while others had enormous blossoms that rotated slowly to follow the suns.
One low shrub was covered in fuzzy orange pods which squeaked indignantly when Maera brushed against them, and another plant seemed to shrink into the ground entirely when Clair leaned too close.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I could spend the rest of my life here.”
Maera laughed.
“You sound exactly like my old botany professor.”
“I’m serious. Half these species probably haven’t even been catalogued by the Kindred,” Clair told her. “And they’ve been all over the known universe.”
“Many have not been catalogued by us, either,” Maera admitted. “Titus Four has an unusually diverse ecosystem. We estimate that fewer than sixty percent of our native plant species have been thoroughly studied.”
Clair stopped walking.
“Only sixty percent?”
Maera nodded.
“Yes.”
“You’re telling me forty percent of the plants on this planet haven’t been scientifically analyzed?” Clair was amazed.
“Not thoroughly.”
Clair put a hand over her heart. So many new plants!
“I think I just fell in love,” she murmured.
Maera laughed.
“Doctor Kaelus may be jealous.”
Clair smiled at her.
“He’ll get over it.”
Though strangely, the image that came into Clair’s mind was Kaelus growling possessively that she belonged with him rather than with a planet full of plants.
Which was ridiculous of course—they might be pretending to be married but he wasn’t really possessive of her—he was just pretending to be. Right?
She pushed the thought aside—there was work to be done.
The healing conservatory was set farther back from the house, though calling it a conservatory seemed inadequate.
It was an enormous domed structure made of something resembling crystal, but unlike ordinary glass, the walls appeared almost liquid.
Colors shimmered through them as the plants inside moved in the breeze, turning the entire building into a glowing jewel.
When Maera touched the entrance, the wall simply parted, rippling like liquid glass as it drew away to form an opening for them.
Clair stepped through behind her and stopped dead.
“Wow,” she whispered. The interior was breathtaking.
Warm mist hung lightly in the air, catching shafts of colored sunlight from the transparent dome above. Hundreds—possibly thousands—of alien plants grew in carefully arranged beds separated by narrow streams of bright turquoise water.
Some were familiar enough in shape to remind Clair of ferns, orchids, vines, and flowering shrubs, while others looked like nothing she had ever seen.
There were tall stalks topped by floating seed clusters that hovered several inches above the parent plant, thick purple vines that pulsed slowly as though they had heartbeats, and delicate white flowers growing upside down from root systems suspended in midair.
“This is incredible,” Clair whispered. “It’s like I died and went to Heaven.”
“I thought you might like it.” Maera smiled. “Many of our oldest medicines came from plants grown here—or rather, from the wild ancestors of the plants now cultivated here. Some have been used for thousands of years.”
Clair was already moving toward the nearest bed.
“What does this one do?”
Maera came beside her.
“That is selverin. The leaves are crushed to a moist paste and used on burns.”
“And that one?” Clair pointed.
“Marra root. It reduces fever.”
Clair pointed toward a cluster of small crimson flowers which appeared to close whenever she looked directly at them.
“And those?”
Maera grimaced.
“Those make you vomit for approximately six hours.”
Clair immediately lowered the hand she had been about to extend to touch the blossoms.
“Ugh. Good to know.”
“They are quite useful for certain kinds of poisoning,” Maera said.
“I’m sure they are,” Clair remarked and made a mental note not to touch the alien vomit-flowers.
They spent the next hour moving through the conservatory, and despite everything else occupying her mind, Clair found herself becoming completely absorbed in the work. This was what she loved—new plants, new chemical pathways, new possibilities.
Maera was knowledgeable and enthusiastic, though she repeatedly insisted that she was a physician rather than a botanist. Still, she knew the traditional uses of nearly every species they passed and was able to access detailed medical records through a small crystalline tablet she carried with her.
Eventually, however, Clair remembered the pale lavender drink she had consumed that morning.
“Where’s the veloria?” she asked.
Maera smiled.