Chapter Two #3
“I’m not surprised. You’re being terribly judgmental, even for you.
Ivey is desperate to be a mother, for all she tries to hide it.
” Caspian clapped a hand on Xavier’s shoulder.
“But they’ve brought us thirty girls, enough for all of us if we take advantage of this head start Yarrow has given the Council.
You know she isn’t shipping out more until she’s confirmed this first set has born us healthy, strong-boned babies. ”
Xavier grunted. “I saw you enjoying Delilah Bowen’s company. A bit young, isn’t she?”
Vivian looked up, startled, as they spoke of her sister, unable to hide her eavesdropping.
“She’s the most beautiful girl I have ever beheld. And her sister is very pretty as well. Come with me. Let’s become acquainted with her elder sister, Vivian. If our children were cousins, you’d be family in truth.”
Xavier caught Vivian’s eye. To his friend, he said coldly, “You know perfectly well she is not enough to tempt me. You’d better return to Delilah. You’re wasting your time trying to change my mind.” He abandoned Caspian to return to the bar.
Vivian’s cheeks grew hot with anger and embarrassment. She pictured herself going up to Xavier at the bar and saying something devastatingly cutting and witty.
If only she could think of the right line.
The music ceased abruptly mid-song, and the murmur of voices hushed.
The room’s full attention turned to an older Martian woman who had stepped inside the hall.
She moved with a brisk elegance, aided by a carved wooden cane, shaking hands with the Martians and exchanging greetings. Vivian recognized her on sight.
Secretary Constance Yarrow, leader of Arcadia.
The person responsible for bringing Vivian to Mars.
“Thank you, my dear friends,” Constance called as she positioned herself to stand in the center of the banquet hall.
Her dark wrinkled hands clutched her wooden cane.
“And welcome to the Arcadia Dome, Red Mothers.” The Martians around her tapped two fingers on each hand together in a light clap.
“By the grace of the Intelligence, we have, at long last, formulated a solution to our generational problem. The Intelligence has generously decreed a sixty-day window to allow all Red Mothers the opportunity to select a suitable spouse and prepare to bear the future of Mars. Gentleman, ladies, and gentlefolk, over the next sixty days, please show the Red Mothers the famous hospitality of the Founding Families. On Presentation Day, we will debut the matches before the Council and all of Mars and hold the largest wedding ceremony Mars has ever seen.”
Sixty days. Vivian’s head spun. No one had bothered to warn her that she would only have two Earth months to choose her husband and the father of her children. How could she make such a monumental decision in sixty days?
She would have to try.
For the next hour, she determinedly spoke to nearly every man in attendance. She swallowed her personality and spoke softly and demurely. She listened and made agreeable noises until she wanted to scream.
Finally, when she could stand it no longer, she escaped to the bar. “White wine, please,” she said, trying to sound as if she knew what she was about. The only alcohol she’d ever tasted was Carolina moonshine.
Vivian took a sip and gagged.
The Earther bartender smiled at her reaction. “Too sweet, I know. The Martians like to make ice wine with grapes flash-frozen in the natural atmosphere. What I wouldn’t give for a dry South African Pinot gris.”
She nodded agreement as if she understood anything about wine and went to find a bare spot on the wall.
“You’re the first Red Mother to order a drink all afternoon,” an amused, posh voice commented.
Vivian turned her head to see Xavier Dorsey leaning against the wall, half-hidden in the shadow of a curtain. “Whereas you seem to have had several.”
Xavier swirled his half-full glass and raised one corner of his mouth. “Have you been watching me?”
“Only to understand why you’re here if you have no intention of meeting any of us.”
“I am in attendance to lodge a protest.” He fingered a silver button on his suit jacket lapel. “Why are you here?”
Hadn’t the headset told her this man wasn’t a match? Good. She could finally say what she really thought. “To get paid.”
Xavier barked a short laugh. “So mercenary. You express yourself with refreshing candor, Miss Bowen.”
“Even if I’m not enough to tempt you, Mr. Dorsey?”
His dark brown eyes held hers. “Oh, I’m very tempted, Miss Bowen,” he murmured in a low voice that sent a shiver of heat through her.
And then his tone turned harsh, like an abrupt plunge into icy cold water.
“But not enough to participate in this despicable and dangerous experiment. Find someone else to bankroll your lifestyle.” He gave her a short mocking bow and walked away.
Vivian sputtered at his retreating back. “Asshole,” she muttered and tried to shake off the spark he’d ignited. An unsuitable match indeed.
But as she watched him walk away, her unease grew. Dangerous? Where’s the danger here?