Loving a Stranger Read online

  It was a mystery to him but this wasn’t the first time he had seen it and it probably wouldn’t be the last. For right now, he had to concentrate on meeting Nallah for the first time…while not letting on that it was, in fact, his first time greeting her.

  “Nallah,” he said to her, sitting up. “Hello.”

  Her eyes, which had been downcast as she stared at her hands twisting in her lap, suddenly jerked up at the sound of his host’s voice—which was a deep baritone, not that different in tone and timbre than Reeve’s own.

  Reeve’s own eyes widened—or the eyes of his host did anyway—when he saw her. Her eyes were like honey—golden and sweet and almond-shaped. They tilted up exotically and that, combined with her river of gold and silver hair, made her fucking gorgeous.

  He wondered briefly if the rest of her face could possibly be as lovely as the eyes and hair. What was behind that opaque white veil which hid her from the nose down? Did all women on Hascion Five hide their faces this way or was it some kind of mourning ritual she’d been doing because she thought her husband was dead or dying?

  “Nallah?” he asked again, wanting to be certain she was who he thought she was.

  “My…my husband,” she faltered at last, her soft, sweet voice sounding breathless and surprised. “I didn’t expect…that is, they—the doctors and the sister-nurses said—they…” She trailed off, obviously uncertain of what to say.

  “They probably said I was never coming back, huh?” Harryx asked, giving her a wink. “Well, looks like they were wrong. How about if we call one now so I can get the hell out of here?”

  From her blank stare, he gathered that he might have overplayed his part a bit. But he was trying to talk to her in an easy, casual way as any husband might speak to a beloved wife. Maybe he should tone it down a little?

  Just then a woman dressed all in black, as Nallah was dressed in white, came bustling into the room. She was carrying a tall, fluted glass with a delicate china handle on the side. Steam was rising from the blue liquid inside.

  “Now, dearie,” she said to Nallah. “I thought maybe some hot bubo tea might help you feel better so I—” She stopped with a gasp when she noticed Reeve sitting up in bed. The glass in her hand fell and shattered on the floor spilling blue liquid and glass shards everywhere.

  There was a breathless silence and then both women sprang into action.

  “Forgive me, General Parokk!” the older woman in black exclaimed. “Please forgive this worthless old woman!”

  “Yes, please forgive her,” Nallah echoed, her golden eyes going wide with fright. “I’ll help her clean it up—it won’t take a moment, my husband!” She turned to the old woman. “Quickly, sister—where are your cleaning supplies?”

  “I…I will bring some at once.” Nervously the old woman hobbled out of the room while Nallah grabbed a piece of cloth from the bed and bent to soak up as much of the spreading blue liquid as she could.

  Goddess, Reeve thought, watching uneasily. They’re acting like they just committed some unforgivable offense. Was it something to do with the med center policy or were they genuinely afraid he had been offended?

  “It’s all right,” he said to Nallah, not liking her panicked response to such a minor incident. “It’s just a spill.”

  It seemed to take a moment for his words to sink in but when they did, Nallah looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

  “Just…just a spill?” she said, her voice wavering.

  Reeve shrugged. “It happens. It’s okay, sweetheart.”

  “Sweet…sweetheart?” Nallah was looking at him as though he was speaking a different language. Did her husband not call her loving nicknames? Reeve knew if he had been blessed to have a mate he would certainly have said sweet things to her. But no female of repute wanted to be mated to a “snatcher” so he’d ruled that possibility out long ago.

  Just then an important looking male wearing a long white and red striped jacket came into the room.

  “What’s this!” he exclaimed. “I thought old Sister Yerga was having a brain blot but it seems you really are awake.”

  “You must be my doctor, er—healer,” Reeve said, giving the other man a hearty smile.

  “Yes, yes—Head Healer Gormox at your service, General Parokk. How are you feeling?”

  “Perfectly fine.” Reeve declared, sitting up straight and throwing out his shoulders. “Thank you for taking such good care of me after my injury.”

  “Well, it’s no trouble at all—especially seeing that you’re so high in the rankings. We’re always honored to treat those in the Inner Circle.” Head Healer Gormox inclined his head graciously. “Now we have several tests we’d like to run just to be certain—”

  “No testing necessary, thank you, Healer,” Reeve interrupted him. The less scrutiny he received the better. He didn’t want anyone taking too close a look at his host and realizing it wasn’t really Harryx Parokk doing the talking.

  “But—” The Healer looked confused.

  “I feel perfectly fine and I’ve wasted too much time already being sick,” Reeve declared. “I need to get back to work at once.”

  He slid off the bed, being careful not to step in the puddle of blue tea which Nallah was still working industriously to mop up and held out his hand to the healer.

  “Thank you so much again for all your care, Head Healer Gormox. But now I think Nallah and I should be getting home.” He looked down at himself—he was wearing a blue hospital gown. Well that wouldn’t do. He scanned the room. “Can someone please get me my clothes? I don’t want to wear patient garb outside the Healing House.”

  “Oh, of course, my husband!” Nallah swept the last of the glass shards together with the blue-soaked towel and jumped up as though she’d been stung. Quickly, she went to rummage in a storage locker at the side of the room and came back with a severely cut green uniform jacket, some long black trousers that flared at the knees, and tall black boots encrusted with semiprecious stones.

  Reeve stared at the outfit doubtfully. Was his host some kind of a dandy or was this kind of sparkling footwear a part of the Hascion uniform? Well, whichever it was, he had no choice but to put it on.

  “Wait,” the Head Healer blustered, as Reeve took the clothes from Nallah. “Please, General Parokk! We must be certain that you’re all right. Now there are several mandatory tests which I must insist—”

  “I feel fine,” Reeve said heartily. “I cannot be bothered with tests when I have important matters to attend to for the Inner Circle.” He frowned at the healer. “Or do you wish me to call some members of the Circle to talk to you about your, uh, bedside manner?”

  The threat worked as he had hoped it would. Head Healer Gormox backed off in a hurry.

  “Oh…no, no,” he exclaimed. “I think…you seem to be perfectly fine. I’m sure you can return to your duties with no trouble—no trouble at all.”

  “Thank you.” Reeve nodded his head graciously. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish dressing in private.” He took the boots and the bundle of clothes Nallah had provided and swept into what he hoped was the fresher before closing the door firmly behind him.

  * * * * *

  Nallah stared after her husband, not sure what to think. What was going on with Harryx? He had woken up so suddenly, just as she had been praying that he would never wake up. She had been certain it was some kind of punishment from the God-King for her disrespectful and blasphemous thoughts. But then, instead of beating or berating her or simply just ignoring her—as he often did—Harryx was…nice. Actually nice.

  He hadn’t even gotten upset when the old sister-nurse had spilled the bubo tea and broken the glass. Normally such an instance of female clumsiness would have sent him into a towering rage. Instead, he had passed it off as an accident. And he had called her “sweetheart.” Sweetheart!

  Harryx had never called her any kind of sweet endearment before, such as some men used for their wives. Even on their wedding day, he h