“That’s all?” Reyn’s voice was full of mock outrage as he swept into the room, pushed along by a gust of wind. He slammed the door against winter’s chill thrust. “That’s all, Mother? How can you say that when for years, all we’ve heard is ‘That is everything! Make another little Khuprus, Malta dear! Replenish the family coffers with an heir or two!’ ”

“Oh, I am not that bad!” Jani Khuprus exclaimed.

“You make me sound like a brood cow!” Malta exclaimed.

“Ah, but such a pretty little cow! One that will make us all late if she doesn’t finish her packing right away and waddle down to the boat with me.”

“You, sir, are a beast!” Malta attempted outrage but spoiled it by laughing.

“Mannerless boy,” his mother rebuked Reyn as she gave him a fond push. “Don’t you tease her! She has a fine baby belly, something to be proud of!”

“And proud I am,” Reyn said, setting his hands gently to either side of the mound of Malta’s belly. His eyes gleamed with such tenderness that she felt a blush rise to her cheeks and his mother turned discreetly away as if what passed between them were too personal a thing for her to witness.

“I’ll find a man to take the trunks down. You watch over her, son, and not just on the way down to the boat.”

“I will. I always do,” he replied, and neither he nor Malta seemed to take much notice of the door closing behind Jani. Nonetheless, as soon as he heard the latch set, Reyn leaned in over her belly to set his mouth softly on his wife’s lips. He held the kiss, as tender and passionate as if they were still newlywed, until she broke away and leaned her head on his chest. He stroked her gleaming golden hair, and then let his hand wander to her brow where his fingers caressed the scarlet crest that marked her as an Elderling. She trembled at his touch and, murmuring a soft rebuke, moved her head away from his hand.

“I know.” He sighed. “Not while we might hurt the baby or bring it too soon. I will wait. But I don’t want you to think I’m waiting too patiently!”

She laughed quietly and stepped free of his embrace. “Then be patient now and let me finish choosing what I must take.”

“No time,” he told her. Stepping to the wardrobe, he considered its contents for a moment. Then he darted swiftly in, seized a fat armful of clothes, turned, and deposited them in the traveling trunk. As Malta voiced a hopeless protest, he tucked them ruthlessly down and shut the lid on them. “There! All done! And now I will whisk you away. We will be taking the lifts down rather than the trunk stairs, and you know how slow they can be.”