Callum held his queen for a while then he resumed work.
Sonia didn’t move, just stayed cuddled close in his lap.
As he worked with his wife held close, Callum decided that day wasn’t the day to tell her his secret.
* * * * *
The next day, Callum didn’t have time to tell her because Caleb returned.
Regan had taken Sonia away for a more in-depth perusal of town, something which it was obvious Sonia wanted to do by the look of excitement on her face when Regan suggested it. So Callum allowed it.
While she was gone, he was holed up in his study with Caleb and Ryon discussing the aftermath of the rebellion, the cleanup of the Western Territories, the sweep across the various regions to locate and neutralize all remaining rebels that Calder was leading and he’d lost track of time.
Regan had called explaining that she and Sonia were having dinner with Maraleena and Drogan in town and by the time Callum and his brethren emerged from his study it was late. It wasn’t only late, it was time for bed and Sonia hadn’t had her injection.
He went in search of her and found her alone in the knitting room. The fire obviously Regan had laid and started was burning for Sonia had no clue how to start a fire. This was something Callum learned days earlier when he walked into their bedroom in the middle of her adorably frustrated attempts and she made him promise he’d teach her to do it. He had lied (not exactly a betrayal in his mind) and promised he would when he had no intention of doing it because if she didn’t ever learn, she’d have to find him to do it for her and he liked that idea.
She was standing at the window but she wasn’t looking out.
Her head was bent and she was watching the fingers of one hand at the other twisting the wedding bands he’d given her around and around.
Something struck him then and he stopped in the door, leaning a shoulder against the jamb, crossing his arms on his chest and he studied her.
During their fight she had said that when she gave him his ring, she didn’t know if it meant anything to her.
He’d not called her on that. He was satisfied with the outcome of their altercation. There was no reason to dredge it up, process every word she said in anger when, from her behavior since then, she’d given every indication that she wasn’t only settling into her life with him splendidly but enjoying it thoroughly.
But now, watching her, her face thoughtful and far away, twisting those bands which had meant nothing to him when he’d given them to her but an hour later when he’d heard her call him “husband”, they meant everything, he felt a definite and acute unease. An unease akin to that unpleasant feeling that felt like fear.
Without looking up, she said softly, “I know you’re there.”
“I know you know,” he replied.
She finally looked at him and her fingers stilled in their turning but they didn’t release the rings. “So why are you standing all the way over there?”
“I’m wondering what’s on your mind,” he told her truthfully.
She dropped her hand but wrapped her arms around her belly and explained, “What’s on my mind is, I’m wondering why my husband stopped in the doorway when he never stops in a doorway when I’m in a room. He always comes to me. So, what’s on my mind is, I’m wondering what’s on your mind.”
She was probably telling the truth.
Just not all of it.
He walked to her and when he arrived she slid her arms around his middle and leaned her body into his, tilting her head far back to look up at him.
It struck him then that she did this a great deal recently. Effortlessly putting her arms around him, leaning her weight into him. Before, her hugs and moments of affection were rare and when they came seemed, compared to the recent ones, uncomfortable.
Now they were relaxed and natural and Callum preferred them greatly.
He returned the favor, wrapping her in his arms, pulling her deep in his body and dipping his chin to look down at her.
“All right, Sonia, now what’s really on your mind?” he asked.
“I told you,” she fibbed.
“You weren’t standing at the window twisting my rings for the f**k of it,” he informed her, his voice meticulously even and calm, that unease he felt was still acute.
She scanned his face. Then she sighed. It wasn’t the fluttering sigh that he loved. It was a frustrated sigh.