Page 81 of Pulled By the Tail
She smirked and then bit her lower lip in an effort not to laugh, a battle she quickly lost. “I think it sounds rather noble.”
“You can’t even say that with a straight face.”
She cleared her throat but couldn’t utter the words without giggling. In that moment, the universe did not exist outside the space they shared. He could live there forever. Her joy, pure and simple, filled him with such devotion. They would have a lifetime of laughter, of teasing and smiles. They would have tears and pain, too.
He wanted it all. Every moment. Every smile. Every tear. Forever would not be enough.
Chapter 20
Georgia
Freema,
If I have to swallow one more cup of herbal tea, I’ll scream. I want caffeine. I want sugar. I’m prepared to throw a tantrum if they try to take away my dark chocolate.
Please, please, please, use your medical knowledge for good and tell them one cup a day is fine.
-G
Six months pregnant was no joke. Her slight baby bump grew, seemingly overnight, and now nothing fit. Not her black pants, the professional suit jacket or white blouse she planned to wear for the Isteimlas party. The gray-and-blue-striped wrap dress would work, even if it felt too casual.
She fussed with the belt and the fabric gapped at the front of the dress. Her boobs were definitely bigger. A safety pin kept her modesty in check, but she disliked the gleam of metal against the fabric. Maybe she’d grab a flower and make a boutonniere or whatever the equivalent was on a dress.
Rubbing her hand over her belly, she dreaded how big she’d get in the coming two and a half months. She had a few maternity dresses of Corravian design, super cute with an A-line that allowed the fabric to swing over a massive belly, but she stubbornly wanted to wear pants as long as possible. The spring air still held a chill, and her bare legs did not appreciate the cold.
Time to suck it up, buttercup.
She drained a cup of tea and smeared some jam on toast. The tea tasted like lawn clippings and mangoes. She hated the brew but drank the vile stuff because Bright cut off the coffee when she learned that caffeine could be bad for the kit. No amount of arguing that one cup a day was safe would sway the woman.
Downstairs, the house hummed with activity. Construction finished on time and on budget. The newly renovated rooms sparkled with the gold leaf detail in the ceiling and the smooth polish of the floor.
The ballroom had been opened to the terrace, to take advantage of the mild weather. Talen and Charl set up tables and chairs outside, and a long buffet table for dining. Inside, plush rugs and pillows had been artfully arranged for seating around the perimeter of the room. Guests would lounge in the Tal fashion. Awuaphad made itself at home, napping in the sunshine. Georgia didn’t think she’d be able to sit down or get up gracefully from the pillows if she tried, but she wouldn’t have much time for sitting today.
Flower arrangements arrived. She directed the deliveries to the terrace. Quil created a photo backdrop with specimens from the conservatory. She checked on the flower arrangements and found a goat nibbling on a centerpiece.
“What the ever-loving hell is that?” she shouted.
There was a goat. In her ballroom. Eating the centerpieces.
She stared at the animal and it stared back at her, its flat black eyes empty and chewing on green leaves.
“That’s a goat,” Quil said helpfully. “A very common domestic animal.”
“Here? What’s it doing here?”
“Oh, well, now that it’s spring, I thought Consumption would be useful to clear out all the overgrowth on the grounds.”
“You named the goat Consumption.” Of course he did.
“Clever, yes? I am good with names,” he said.
“Just get it out of here before it messes up the floor.” Her perfect, pristine floor. As he led the goat away, she shouted, “And I’m still not naming the kit Tranquility!”
The caterer arrived, using the long counters in the butler’s pantry to set up along with the ovens in the kitchen. She ducked into the kitchen to make sure they had everything they needed.
Dare trotted up, wearing a crisp white apron emblazoned with a moon violet, the logo for the house. “You look like you’re about to fall over. Have you had anything to eat?”
“Um, toast for breakfast,” she answered.
