on: “Kossara, you’re a beautiful woman, and not just because you’re the
only woman for quite a few light-years around. Never fear, I can mind my
manners. But I hope it won’t bother you overmuch if I keep looking your
way.”
She stood quiet awhile, except for the rise and fall of her breasts. Her
skin gleamed. A lock of hair clung bronzy to her right cheekbone. The
beryl eyes gazed beyond him. Suddenly they returned, focused, met his as
sabers meet in a fencing match between near friends. Her husky voice
grew hoarse and, without her noticing, stammered Serbic: “Do you
mean–Dominic, do you mean you never learned, while I was under … I
love you?”
Meteorstruck, he heard himself croak, “No. I did try to avoid–as far as
possible, I let Chives question you, in my absence–”
“I resisted,” she said in wonder, “because I knew you would be kind but
dared not imagine you might be for always.”
“I’d lost hope of getting anybody who’d make me want to be.”
She came to him.
Presently: “Dominic, darling, please, no. Not yet.”
“–Do you want a marriage ceremony first?”
“Yes. If you don’t mind too much. I know you don’t care, but, well, did
you know I still say my prayers every night? Does that make you laugh?”
“Never. All right, we’ll be married, and in style!”
“Could we really be? In St. Clement’s Cathedral, by Father Smed who
christened and confirmed me–?”
“If he’s game, I am. It won’t be easy, waiting, but how can I refuse a
wish of yours? Forgive these hands. They’re not used to holding
something sacred.”
“Dominic, you star-fool, stop babbling! Do you think it will be easy for
me?”