Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,122
commentary on the various points of interest along the way, Klara was silent during the ride to Trag and Micayla’s farm. She hadn’t asked many questions about her father in the previous month. Now, faced with the imminent meeting, apparently she still couldn’t think of anything to ask.
Or she was too nervous.
Or she felt the same simmering undercurrent of anger that he did.
Nah, probably not.
Granted, he hadn’t known her long, but to the best of his knowledge, Klara had never bothered to hide her rage. Therefore, her mood was something else entirely.
He ought to have been able to have some idea from her scent, but the aroma of pregnancy seemed to overpower everything else.
Too soon—or not soon enough, he wasn’t sure which—he spotted a familiar cluster of buildings in the distance. “Won’t be long now.” He nodded toward the homestead. “Last I heard, Trag’s son was working the farm with him. Along with your father, Micayla, and their younger children, you might actually get to meet one of your eldest brothers.”
One glance in Klara’s direction proved this wasn’t something she considered to be a perk. “Do you suppose he’ll resent me, too? And what about Trag’s wife and their other children? Will they all hate me? Trag never wanted to consort with my mother, let alone father her children. I’ll just be the bastard half-Davordian daughter he never wanted before and doesn’t want now. This is not going to go well. I can feel it.”
Moe could also feel something, although it wasn’t a sense of foreboding. Rather, it was a threshold to a better, happier life for all concerned. In his mind’s eye, a clear vision formed—one of a doting Trag with his daughter’s children on his knee and a beaming Klara standing by.
No, Trag wouldn’t resent her and neither would any of her siblings. Nor would Trag’s wife, Micayla. But, of course, trying to convince someone as stubborn as his beloved Klara was undoubtedly pointless. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Won’t we?”
The sun had already risen by the time they took the turn toward Trag’s home. The fields were still shrouded in the early morning mist, but Moe could make out several figures among the long rows of bushy, low-growing plants. “Looks like everyone is out picking strawberries this morning.” He gave Klara a reassuring smile. “Trag should be in a good mood. Rumor has it that he’s happiest when he’s picking strawberries.”
Temfilk spoke up from the rear seat. “Looks like a lot of back-breaking work to me.”
“I dunno,” Nevid drawled. “With those sucker tips on your fingers, you strike me as being a natural-born strawberry picker.”
“Maybe,” Temfilk said with a snort. “Not sure I want to try it, though.”
Moe brought the speeder to a stop near the house, which was built in the simple farmhouse style favored by most of the Nimbaza region’s residents. “Ever eaten a strawberry right out of the garden?”
The Norludian huffed out a breath. “Considering where I’ve spent most of my life, I should think the answer to that would be perfectly obvious.”
Moe knew for a fact that Temfilk would rather eat fruit than anything, and with acres of strawberries growing all around him, the trick would be getting him to stop before he made himself sick. “Well, then. You’re in for a treat. Might even be worth a sore back.”
Temfilk unfastened his seat restraint and began popping his fingertips off his cheeks in the Norludian version of grumbling.
Moe gave Klara’s hand a squeeze as he raised the canopy. “Everyone remember where we parked.”
Klara rolled her eyes. “Don’t bother trying to make me laugh. Believe me, I’ve never felt less like laughing in my life.”
Moe knew that was about to change, but simply pointed toward one of the strawberry pickers, clad in a pale green tunic and trousers, the characteristic orange streak in his long, curly black hair clearly visible. “That’s Trag.”
As they approached, Moe had the satisfaction of seeing Trag’s jaw drop as he straightened to his full height and fixed his gaze on Klara.
“Mother of the gods,” he whispered. “You look just like Delaroh, only Zetithianized.”
“You remember my mother?” Klara’s voice was a much higher-pitched squeak than usual.
“I remember a Terran woman called Delaroh.” Trag grimaced. “At least, I thought she was Terran. Clearly, I was wrong about that.” Cocking his head to one side, he studied Klara’s face. “Never thought I’d ever hear myself say it, but Davordian eyes actually look pretty good on a Zetithian.” Smiling broadly, he spread his arms wide. “Hello, Klara, my lovely daughter. Welcome to the family.”
Cackling with glee, Temfilk fist-bumped Nexbit. “I knew it!”
The Racks bounced up and down squealing “Yah, boss” at the top of their tiny little lungs. Nevid simply shook his head and smiled as if he’d predicted the outcome from the very beginning.
But those celebrations were nothing compared to Klara’s shout of laughter as she raced toward her father’s waiting arms. Warmth enveloped Moe’s heart and tears of joy ran down his cheeks as her newfound siblings and Micayla each hugged her in turn. In that moment, the last traces of his anger faded to nothingness. Only happiness remained.
Trag kissed his daughter’s cheek one more time before reaching for his gathering basket. “Strawberries, anyone?”
Acknowledgments
There were times I didn’t think I would ever finish this one, and the last few paragraphs seemed to take even longer than the two and a half years spent writing the rest of the book. The combined efforts of my writing buddies and a number of my readers encouraged me to keep going when I truly believed my writing days were over. Perhaps that explains why Captive took so long to complete: I was afraid that this truly was my final work. I’m still not sure about that, but for now, I’m doing my best to keep an open mind.
My heartfelt thanks go out to:
My wonderful critique partners, Nan Reinhardt, TC Winters, Sandy James, and Lynne Greeley.
My awesome beta reader, Mellanie Szereto.
My loving family and all the critters who live with us on the farm.
My loyal readers who have stuck with me for a very long time.
Also by Cheryl Brooks
Cat Star Legacy: Maverick
Cat Star Legacy: Mystic
Out of Bounds
Echoes From the Deep
Dreams From the Deep
Justice From the Deep
Cowboy Delight
Cowboy Heaven
Must Love Cowboys
Unbridled
Uninhibited
Undeniable
Unrivaled
The Cat Star Chronicles: Slave
The Cat Star Chronicles: Warrior
The Cat Star Chronicles: Rogue
The Cat Star Chronicles: Outcast
The Cat Star Chronicles: Fugitive
The Cat Star Chronicles: Hero
The Cat Star Chronicles: Virgin
The Cat Star Chronicles: Stud
The Cat Star Chronicles: Wildcat
The Cat Star Chronicles: Rebel
The Cat Star Chronicles Bundle: Slave, Warrior & Rogue
Sex, Love, and a Purple Bikini
Midnight in Reno
Pontoon
If You Could Read My Mind (writing as Samantha R. Michaels)
Double Desire (Sharing: Sextet Anthology)
A Delicate Procedure (Entanglements: Sextet Anthology)
Windfall (Occupational Hazards: Sextet Anthology)
Angel on Broadway (Mistletoe & Ménage: Sextet Anthology)
The Boys in the Band (Dirty Dancing: Sextet Anthology)
Small, Medium, & Large (Sextet Presents)
The Lady Takes a Pair (Sextet Presents)
A Tale of Two Knights (Sextet Presents)
About the Author
A native of Louisville, Kentucky, Cheryl Brooks is a former critical care nurse who resides in rural Indiana with her family and an assortment of animal friends. She is the author of the Cat Star Chronicles series, the Cowboy Heaven series, the Soul Survivors trilogy, the Unlikely Lovers series, and several stand-alone books and novellas. Captive is the third book in her Cat Star Legacy series. Her other interests include cooking, gardening, and soap making. Cheryl is a member of RWA and IRWA. You can visit her online at www.cherylbrooksonline.com or email her at [email protected].