Starcrossed - Bianca D'Arc Page 0,24

device. Five minutes later, they had their answer. Gineva Magdelana Starbridge was most definitely pregnant.

Possibly with twins.

It was still too early to tell for certain, but there was a high probability that she was carrying twins. The very idea of it blew her mind. After all this time, and all the effort she’d put into trying to get pregnant, it seemed almost anticlimactic to have achieved her dream of nurturing not just one but, most likely, two tiny innocent lives within her body.

Ginny walked on air as they left the clinic, and the reporters seemed to sense that something was up. Sure enough, not an hour later, news of her pregnancy—filled with rumor and supposition—was being broadcast on every newsfeed.

Tigh hadn’t left her side. In fact, he’d practically moved into her quarters. He’d taken over one corner of her suite and set up a portable comp station where he sat, monitoring the news while attending to affairs of state.

“We’ve got to do something about this.” Tigh’s voice cut into the lovely daydream she’d been having about the twin girls she was going to have in just nine short months.

“About what?”

“Have you seen the news?” Tigh sat on the couch next to her and switched on the vid. Flipping through the feeds, Ginny saw the media had her alternately pregnant, unable to get pregnant, diagnosed with some dreaded disease or being fitted for implants at the emperor’s request. There were ever more outrageous explanations being created out of thin air for their visit to the compound clinic. Some made her laugh out loud, and some sparked her anger.

“What can we do?”

Tigh sighed as he switched off the vid. “We need to hold a press conference.”

“A press conference? Tigh, maybe now is a good time to tell you that I’m really not very comfortable speaking to the media.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ll do most of the talking, if that’s your wish. I don’t like it either, but it’s clear it needs to be done before they go any farther into the realms of fantasy trying to explain a simple clinic visit.”

This time, it was Ginny who sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

Tigh pulled her in close for a quick hug, kissing the top of her head. Releasing her, he got to his feet and touched his wristcomp to signal for one of his aides. Within a few moments, the wheels were set in motion for a press conference later that very day.

It wasn’t something she was looking forward to.

The press conference itself was both better and worse than Ginny had expected. Better, in that the questions were mostly inquisitive rather than hostile, and worse, in that they were incredibly invasive.

One of the younger female reporters got hung up on the particulars of how conception had taken place. She was probably too young to comprehend the fact that babies didn’t used to be conceived in a lab as a matter of course.

“But how?” she asked, rather insistently. “We’ve been following all your movements. No one reported seeing you visit the insemination lab.”

Tigh pulled Ginny back against his chest, folding his hands over her tummy in a very familiar fashion, stating his implicit right to touch her silently, but firmly. The older women understood the subtle signs of genuine male affection and protectiveness, but the younger girls—most of whom seemed to be reporters—didn’t seem to get it.

“These babies were planted the old-fashioned way, and we enjoyed every minute of it.” Tigh patted her stomach with a roguish grin and a wink she could see reflected off the monitors while Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair.

She could hardly believe Tigh had just told the galactic media they’d been having sex. It wasn’t something she was comfortable discussing by any stretch of the imagination. Sex was something private, not something to talk about with complete strangers, much less publicize. And that naughty little wink? She’d have a thing or two to say to him once they were alone.

“Did you say babies? Plural?” Thankfully, another reporter moved the questioning forward.

“It’s too early to know for certain,” Ginny said quickly, glad for the change of topic, “but the clinician stated there was an eighty-five percent probability of twins based on the test results and family history.”

“You’re a twin, aren’t you, Emperor Tigh?”

“Yes,” he said, loosening his arms but not letting her go. “I had a twin brother.” Ginny knew talking of his lost brother was a touchy subject. It was Elius who