“Not a bit. That’s why I came up with the notion of sending him home to tell his family in person. I could see all that old fear of men—and worse—building up in you every time he touched you, and you trying not to show it so that you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“Oh, Skif—what ever did I do to deserve you? You were right; it was horrible, I felt like I was at war with myself.”

“Dearling, I served a Border Sector, remember? And my old home neighborhood was a pretty rough place. You weren’t the first woman I’ve seen that was suffering the aftereffects of rape and abuse. I know what the reaction is. I take it you’re—”

“Fine. Better than ever; and half-mad with wanting to see him again.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had for a long time. Well, don’t you want to know how it all went?”

“I’m consumed with curiosity because if I know Dirk, he probably sent his family a two-line note—“I’m getting married. I’ll be there in a week,”—and no further explanation whatsoever.”

Skif laughed, and admitted that that was just about what Dirk had written, word for word. “And a fine turmoil it sent them into, I can tell you! Especially coming on top of the rest of it—well, let me take it from the beginning.”

He settled himself a bit more comfortably. “We got to the farm just about a week after we left here, and it was hard riding all the way. Dirk didn’t want to spend any more time traveling than he had to; well, I can’t say as I much blame him. When we got there, the entire clan was out waiting for us, since they’d had the children playing lookout ever since his message. Holy Stars, what a mob! You’re going to like them, heartsister, they’re all as mad as he is. They got us separated almost at once; the younglings plying me with food and drink while Dirk’s mother and father dragged him off for a family conference. I could tell that he’d had them fair worried, especially after the last time—that bitch Naril and the way she played with him—”

“I know all about that. I don’t blame them for being worried.”