Darius stepped forth and took Sampsone's shoulder in a tight grip. "Whatever are you saying? She lives. Your daughter is alive and she should well render herself under this roof and within these walls. You are her father ."
"Go and take her with you. I beg of you. Her mother . . . could not live through this. Permit me to provide--"
"You are a scourge," Darius spat. "A scourge and a disgrace to your bloodline."
"No," the male said. "She is. Now and evermore."
Darius was momentarily stunned into silence. Even knowing the debased values of the glymera , and having been subjected to them, he was as yet shocked anew. "You and that symphath have much in common."
"How dare thee--"
"Neither of you has the heart to mourn your offspring."
Darius headed for the door and didn't stop as the male called out, "The money! Permit me to give you the money!"
Darius did not trust himself to respond and dematerialized back unto the wooded glen he had left mere minutes ago. Taking form by the carriage, his heart was afire. As one who had been discarded, he knew well of the hardship of being rootless and unsupported in the world. And that was without the extra burden the female carried, literally, within her body.
Although the sun was threatening to break free of the earth's edge, he required a moment to compose himself and formulate what he could say--
The female's voice emerged from behind the carriage's window drapery. "He told you to keep me away, didn't he."
Indeed, Darius found that there was no manner of expression with which he could cast what had transpired in better light.
He laid his palm on the cool wood of the carriage door. "I shall care for you. I shall provide and protect."
"Why . . ." came the aching response.
"Verily . . . it is right and proper to do so."
"A hero you are. But what you seek to save cares not for the gift you offer."
"You will. In time . . . you will care."
When there was no reply, Darius hopped up onto the driving seat and took the reins. "We shall go unto mine home."
The jangle of the horse's tack and the clapping of shod hooves on packed dirt accompanied them out of the woods and on their way. He took them a different route, keeping them far from the mansion and that family whose social expectation was thicker than blood.
And as for the money? Darius was not a rich male, but he would have sooner cut off his own dagger hand than accept a pence from that weak-souled father of hers.
SIXTY
As John went to sit up on the gurney, Xhex helped him and he was amazed at how strong she was: The instant her hand went to the middle of his back, he felt as though his entire upper weight was totally supported.
Then again, as she'd often said, she wasn't just your normal female.
Doc Jane came over and started talking to him about what was doing under his bandage and what he needed to do to care for the incision . . . but he wasn't tracking.
He wanted to have sex. With Xhex. Right now.
It was pretty much all he knew or cared about--and the carnal need went waaay deeper than just a hard-on looking for a garage to park in. A brush with death had a way of making you want to live out loud, and sex with the person you wanted to be with was the best way of expressing that noise.
Xhex's eyes flared as she caught the scent he clearly was putting off.
"You're going to stay put for another ten minutes," Doc Jane said as she started to put instruments in the autoclave. "And then you can crash down here in the clinic's bed."
Let's go, he signed to Xhex.
Swinging his legs off the table gave him a shot of whoa-nelly pain, but the owie shit didn't make him rethink his plan in the slightest. It did, however, get the attention of everyone else in the room. As Xhex steadied him with a curse, the good doctor started in with a whole lot of lie-down-big-guy--except John wasn't having any of that prone stuff.
Would you have a robe I could wear out of here? he signed, well aware that he had a massive erection and not a lot over his hips.
There was some arguing after that, but eventually, Doc Jane threw her hands up and allowed as how if he wanted to be an idiot, she couldn't stop him. When she gave the nod, Ehlena disappeared and returned with something that was fluffy and thick and big enough to cover him up . . . from collarbone to maybe midthigh. It was also pink.
Clearly, this was the sleepwear version of a dunce cap, payback for his refusing to stay in the clinic. And you'd think all the Barbie would pull a deflate on his arousal--but not a chance.
His cock was standing firm against the assault on his masculinity.
Kind of made him proud of the bastard.
Thank you, he signed, slipping the robe onto his shoulders. With some straining, he managed to get it to fold over his chest and cover up his southern exposure. Barely.