A/N: This time just the disclaimer...it's been too long since I included it, LOL. "Fantasy Island", Mr. Roarke, Tattoo, and Julie are the creation of Aaron Spelling, Leonard Goldberg and Gene Levitt, and the property of Sony Pictures. I realize no profit whatsoever from telling these stories, just a lot of enjoyment. On the other hand, Leslie, Christian and everybody else are my creations, so I get to do whatever I want with them [wink]. Now that that's out of the way, enjoy the latest!
§ § § – October 19, 2008
"I think you owe me an explanation, and possibly an apology," Christian told Roarke in a hard tone, facing his father-in-law across the elegant desk in the study. "You know how deeply I feel about amakarna, considering the impact it's had on my life from the time I was twenty-two years old and my father signed me into an arranged marriage behind my back in order to ensure a supply of that spice. You must have known I could feel only positively about anything that might provide an end to people's dependence on it—at least, till I learned the actual nature of the cure. Yet you chose not to tell me about it until I returned from Boston. Why?"
"For precisely this reason," Roarke replied, his voice as chilly as Christian's was angry. "You have no emotional control at all when it comes to matters concerning amakarna, and I also had reason to believe you might be unable to keep from telling at least your nieces, before we had any concrete results from the initial research. I told Leslie to fill you in when she met you at the plane dock this morning, but I see that may have been a mistake."
"One you can't undo," Christian retorted. "And I'm told that you needed human volunteers to test this potential cure on and saw to it that Leslie informed my nieces, so now Briella is coming here and it's too late to stop her. And all this after I lose my Boston manager to a combination of ten years of black-lightning use and a lifetime of amakarna dependency. I was looking forward to spending a few days at home with my wife and children, and what do I find but an untested cure and the fact that one of my own nieces has decided to offer herself up despite the substantial risk of being poisoned!"
"Christian, stop it, please," Leslie wailed, still crying. She hadn't stopped since she and Christian had left the plane dock; he'd been in a black mood since learning of Gabriella's determination to be a test subject, and she was still wondering if he'd really registered the announcement she had delivered just as they were leaving. She still found it hard to believe herself; it was such an unexpected development, when she had been more than content with the three children she already had, that she had yet to reconcile her emotions.
Christian cranked around on one foot to stare at her, and she tried to reason with him through her own turmoil. "I know you're upset about Gabriella's decision, but I told you, it's hers alone to make. I had no chance to protest, either. Stop trying to pick a fight with Father, please. You looked so thrilled about the cure when I first told you..."
"That's before I learned about the risk of fatal poisoning," Christian shot back. "You must know I'm not especially happy with you either, Leslie, since you're the one who told Briella and her sisters in the first place." She turned away from him and hid her tearstained face in her hands; he whipped back around to glare at Roarke. "I want to see the exact text of the e-mail you had Leslie send out."
Without a word, Roarke arose, went to the computer and brought up Leslie's business e-mail, finding the message in question in a folder marked "Sent". Christian read it in grim silence, taking note of the fact that Leslie had pointed out the risks involved in careful detail, but hadn't specifically asked them to volunteer—in fact, had actually advised against their doing so. He grunted before asking, "What was the response?"
Roarke pulled up the reply that had come from Gabriella, and Christian read it aloud in a soft but very dark voice: "Aunt Leslie, it hasn't taken us long to talk it over, and I insist on being one of the test subjects. Magga tried to override me, but I exerted my authority as queen, and before you can send back to me to discourage me further, I will be on a flight out of Lilla Jordsö. You should expect me to arrive on one of the Sunday charters. Gabriella." He turned to Roarke and demanded, "Why did you tell them in the first place?"
"They had as much right to know as any other person taking amakarna," Roarke said, calm but cold. "Since you are so eager to dissuade your niece from participating in the test project, you may meet her plane, which I believe will arrive at ten this morning, and you will take her to whatever accommodations she wishes to inhabit. Until then, I suggest you return to your own home. You seem to have upset Leslie far more than would be warranted by your reaction, and I think it best if you two are apart for a while." He gestured to the door. "Go."
"I have unpacking to do in any case," Christian said, with that formal regality that Leslie very seldom heard from him except at official functions, and stalked out of the house without another word to anyone. Leslie's muffled weeping became soft sobbing as he left, and Roarke went to sit beside her on the loveseat where she had wilted, staring at her in perplexity even as he tried to comfort her.
"Leslie, my child, try not to get so upset," he urged gently. "Christian will calm down in time, and even if he doesn't, he'll be set straight by Gabriella. Why are you crying like this? Calm yourself, my child, calm yourself."
She lifted a desolate face to her father and croaked, "I wasn't going to say anything till I told Christian first. Well, I did, and I don't think he even noticed, but at least I tried to tell him. Father...I'm pregnant."
Roarke blinked once in surprise, then smiled broadly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing. "That's very happy news, Leslie!" He chuckled. "It also explains a great deal...your lingering illness, your unusual fretfulness during Christian's absence." She had started crying into her hands again, and his smile faded. "Don't you want this baby?"
"I'm still trying to get used to the idea," Leslie admitted, attempting to control her tears. "I honestly never thought I'd have another child, especially at age 43. I'll probably be 44 by the time I give birth. Dr. Lambert thinks I conceived in August. Anyway, she sent me to Dr. Hannaford, and she confirmed it." She shuddered slightly.
"What frightens you about this pregnancy?" Roarke asked.
Her gaze was sheepish. "That I might end up with multiples again."
Roarke laughed and squeezed her again. "Unless you and Christian had agreed that you should try fertility drugs, I strongly suspect you won't. Of course, you can see to it that Dr. Hannaford examines you very carefully to be certain, but I think you worry far too much about a relatively minor issue. If you are not due till next May, then you should set this aside for the moment, for we have more immediate things to take care of."
Three of those "immediate things" came downstairs just then, all looking a little scared. "Mommy?" Susanna ventured, and Roarke and Leslie both turned to see the triplets come off the last step and approach them.
"Mommy, did Daddy make you cry?" Tobias asked, eyes wide.
Leslie cleared her throat, but Roarke took over and lifted his grandson into his lap. "There are a lot of things your father has to think about," he said, "and he's very worried and upset about them. That's why I sent him home, to your house, so that he can be alone for a while and calm down. When he sees you three, he'll be very glad."
"Will he be glad to see Mommy too?" Karina wanted to know.
"I'm sure he will, sweetheart," Roarke said reassuringly. "Now tell me, are you three hungry? Mariki is waiting to serve breakfast."
"But I want to hug Mommy," Tobias insisted, and before either of the adults could react, he squirmed out of Roarke's lap and into Leslie's, wrapping his arms around his mother's waist and squeezing till she squawked softly. "I love you, Mommy," the little boy said, matching Roarke's reassuring tone. "I'll never make you cry, I promise."
"I love you too, son," Leslie murmured, hugging him back and kissing the top of his head. She managed a smile for the girls, who were staring on anxiously. "And I love both of you too. It's going to be okay, so don't worry."
"But if it's okay, why were you crying?" Susanna persisted.
Leslie tossed Roarke a resigned glance, and he grinned at her. "Well, sweetie, Daddy and Grandfather know now, so it's your turn to know." She waited till Tobias was looking up at her, then tried to take in all three triplets at once. "In spring, you're going to have a new brother or sister. I'm having a baby."
"A baby?" blurted Susanna, almost simultaneously with Karina's "A real one?" Leslie nodded, another smile breaking forth as the girls gaped at each other in wonder.
"I hope I get a brother," Tobias announced. "We got enough girls already!"
Roarke and Leslie both laughed, and they arose, Leslie setting her son back on his feet. "No matter what I get, we'll all love the new baby. It's going to be a long time before we find out if it's a boy or a girl, so let's just go have breakfast and talk about other things."
§ § §
It was roughly a quarter past ten and Leslie was in the study alone while Roarke tended to one of the fantasies. Noelle, now fully over her case of stomach flu, was sitting for the triplets that weekend, and with Leslie's permission had taken them to the beach most frequented by resort guests; Mariki had been in about half an hour before to leave Leslie a carafe of mango juice and a glass, so things were quiet now as she paid some bills and scheduled fantasy requests that Roarke had accepted. She was entering another expense in the ledger when she heard the slam of car doors in the lane and voices carrying on about something, at considerable volume. She glanced at the grandfather clock, wondering idly what was going on.
The voices got louder; then doors opened, and Queen Gabriella of Lilla Jordsö stalked into the inner foyer, closely followed by her uncle. "You have no right to stop me, Uncle Christian," Gabriella informed him in her most regal tones. "I'm the queen, and what I say goes—so there's nothing you can do about it." She was speaking in jordiska, but Leslie could understand her nevertheless, thanks to Christian's periodic lessons and the family's regular use of the language at home.
"You're Arnulf's daughter all right," Christian commented sourly, in the same tongue. "He always had that exact same attitude. You can't tell me the risk doesn't frighten you. You were very well warned, so you can't claim ignorance."
"No, and I don't intend to," Gabriella snapped. "You're still a prince of our realm, and since I'm the ruling monarch, you'd best take heed and give way when I tell you that my mind is made up once and for all, and nothing you can say will stop me!" She glared at him till she seemed satisfied that he'd gotten the message; then, leaving him standing in the foyer shaking his head to himself, she stepped down into the study while Leslie arose from the desk and curtsied to her.
"Aunt Leslie!" Gabriella exclaimed, switching to English, her voice bright and warm as she met Leslie in front of the desk and returned her hug. "It's really good to see you!"
"Good to see you too, of course," Leslie said, feeling better for Gabriella's warmth. "So did you just get in? Where do you plan to stay?"
"With you and Uncle Christian, of course," Gabriella said, grinning. "That way I can play with my cousins and get to know them better." She tipped her head and studied her aunt curiously. "Is something wrong? You look...I don't know, troubled."
"Oh, things've been going on," Leslie murmured vaguely, too timid to dare a glance in Christian's direction. "I don't know how much Christian's told you, but we've had quite an eventful five weeks or so around here. And I have a feeling it's just going to get more eventful." She heard Christian snort quietly and knew she was employing euphemisms, but she didn't know how much Gabriella knew about their situation.
"Well, I think it's more than 'eventful'," the thirty-four-year-old queen observed with a wry look toward the foyer. "To hear Uncle Christian talk, I'm sentencing myself to certain death because I volunteered for the trial of this amakarna cure." She peered curiously at Leslie. "How much do you know about it? Do you think it will cure my infertility as well as my need for amakarna?"
"I honestly can't tell you," Leslie said, shrugging. "I do know that we figured out that amakarna always affects the cardiovascular system in men and the reproductive system in women, and specifically targets men's hearts and women's ovaries."
Gabriella flattened both hands on her abdomen and peered down at them as though she could see her own insides by so doing; then she looked up at Leslie again. "When my sisters and I found out we were sterile," she said slowly as Christian stepped ignored into the room and settled on the loveseat to watch them grimly, "the doctor who examined us said that the spice must have somehow worked its way into our very DNA and changed its structure so that we were genetically unable to have children. What was said about that?"
"I'm no physician," Leslie said through a sigh, gesturing the queen to a chair. "But I remember thinking that sounded like a complete crock when I heard it. I didn't say anything at the time, because as I said, I'm not medically trained; and besides, it's amakarna—who knows what's possible with the stuff? But it never really seemed right. Rogan hasn't said a single word about DNA, and while this is only my uninformed opinion, I don't think even amakarna can do that much damage or effect that kind of change." She paused, thinking. "That said, I don't know whether the cure will restore your ability to have a baby. The cure contains a combination of earth herbs that are supposed to be beneficial to the system in question—actually there are two cures, according to what Rogan told us the day he had Marina take her three doses. One for men and one for women, because of the different systems affected. I wouldn't go so far as to suggest they'll reverse the effects of the spice over a lifetime, but it can't hurt to have them in there, just for their beneficial qualities."
Gabriella nodded. "I see. Well, I kept it a secret, as you said. I told Daniel I might as well take time off, since parliament has gone on its eleventh annual nationaldagslöv and I have until the end of the first week of November." She saw Leslie's blank look and laughed. "Lilla Jordsö's national day is October 4, and back in about 1998 it was decided that parliament should get the month off for that reason."
"Who decided that?" Leslie asked, amused.
"Parliament, of course," Gabriella said with a grin, "who else? Anyway, it was the perfect time for me to decide to take advantage of that inactivity and present myself for this trial. Magga wanted to be the one to do it, but she actually has less free time than I do, since she has so many charities to represent. And Stina was too afraid of the risk."
"The sensible one," said Christian sharply from the loveseat.
"As you can see," Gabriella sighed, "Uncle Christian is very angry with me for doing this. But who am I to sit back and let others take a risk just because I'm the queen? If something does happen to me, I've already made provisions for the situation; I saw to it years ago. I just don't think it right to be held above others in something like this, merely because I happen to be the ruler of a country."
"Goodness," murmured Leslie uneasily.
Gabriella smiled. "We'll see, I don't doubt. If I do perish of this, then Uncle Carl Johan will make a fine interim king, I'm sure. And if not, then I'll feel as if I've really earned the right to be called a queen, having taken part in something beneficial."
"So that's how you justify it," Christian said, his voice bitter. "I'll go on record as saying that I object strenuously to this entire thing..."
Leslie lost her temper at last. "Dammit, Christian, we already know all about it," she barked at him. "If all you can do is repeat your disapproval over and over again, then why don't you get out of here and go fix some computers or take a run on that beach of yours? You haven't even mentioned my other news, and now I'm not sure you actually heard me when I told you. Until you can accept that you don't run your niece's life, or anyone else's but your own, you can take yourself elsewhere!" Her voice wobbled as she ended her diatribe, much to her disgust, and before she could stop herself she was crying again.
Christian stared at her, while Gabriella reached out and grasped Leslie's hands in hers. "Herregud, Aunt Leslie, what's wrong? What other news do you mean?"
"It's my damn hormones," Leslie complained, hitching a shoulder high enough to clear tears out of at least one eye. "I've been losing it all month for one reason or another—first my lunch all the time, now my emotional control. I told your uncle when he first landed here this morning—blurted it right out, point-blank—but he was so worked up over the amakarna cure, he never quite acknowledged it." She shrugged and tried to smile. "Of course, I was bawling like a three-year-old when I said it, so maybe he didn't understand me."
Christian had been sitting there with his face screwed up in bewilderment as she spoke; now, when Gabriella laughed at her quip, he arose and approached her, peering at her as she pulled her hands free and brushed at her eyes. "Leslie," he said, his voice much more gentle, "if you had something important to tell me and I somehow missed it, I apologize." He took her hand in his turn and urged her to her feet, loosely grasping her upper arms and studying her while Gabriella looked eagerly on. "What did you tell me, back at the plane dock, that I apparently missed?"
She blinked another tear out of her eye. "Well...I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby probably around May sometime."
Christian's eyes flew wide open and he breathed, barely audible, "Oh..." When she nodded, he swallowed hard, then hugged her even harder. "My Rose, my Rose...I'm so sorry. I truly am. Please forgive me."
"Uncle Christian, are you crazy?" Gabriella shouted in disbelief.
Startled, both Leslie and Christian stared at her; then Christian realized what she was talking about and burst out laughing. "Briella, I'm not apologizing for making Leslie pregnant, for fate's sake! I'm apologizing for my horrid behavior." Leaving his niece to grin sheepishly at them, he turned to Leslie and softly kissed her. "No wonder you're so weepy! I was so caught up in your other news, somehow your bald announcement at the plane dock completely escaped me. I'm so sorry. Is this the reason you haven't fully recovered from your stomach flu, then?"
"That's what Dr. Lambert thought when Father made me go see her, yes," Leslie said with a nod. "She did tell me to come back in a month if I wasn't feeling any better, but she also firmly sent me over to Dr. Hannaford, who confirmed the pregnancy and put me back on those liquid prenatal vitamins I took when I was expecting the triplets. And Father tried to reassure me that I'm not likely to be getting multiples this time around."
Christian laughed again. "It'll be interesting to find out what it's like to have just one baby to care for. It may seem like a vacation compared to what we went through with the triplets. Speaking of whom—do they know?"
She nodded. "I told them right after I told Father. It took me a while to get used to the idea of being pregnant, after figuring it'd never happen again once we got the triplets, so it was easy for me not to say anything. But I justified it anyway by reasoning that you, as the baby's father, should be the first one to know."
"Well, I almost was, no thanks to my tunnel vision," Christian commented with self-deprecating wryness. He considered it for a moment and shook his head. "I'm happy to hear about this, naturally...but at the same time I find myself a little stunned. A new father at 50? I realize it's not unprecedented, but being in that position yourself gives you an entirely different outlook on the concept. It'll be an experience, to be sure." He chuckled at himself and hugged her again. "How do you feel now?"
"About the same," she said candidly, and this time Gabriella laughed along with Christian. She grinned back. "But with you home, my love, I think it'll be better from now on." She checked the time again. "Father should be back within an hour, and then either you can ask him any questions you might have, Briella, or Christian can take you to our house and you can settle into the guest suite and rest awhile."
"I'll wait for Mr. Roarke," Gabriella decided. She resumed her chair, and Leslie went to the kitchen to cadge a few refreshments out of Mariki while Christian decided it might not be a bad idea to have a run.
"You all right?" Leslie asked, knowing he tended to run only when he was troubled.
He smiled at her. "Don't worry, my Rose. It's simply a way to burn off the anxieties and anger and shock I've been feeling lately. If I'm not back by lunchtime, call my mobile and I promise I'll let you know what's happening."
"Okay," she murmured. He dropped a kiss on her lips, winked at her, then left the house; and she settled behind Roarke's desk to resume the chores she had been handling.
Gabriella arose to pour herself some of the tea Mariki had brought out; she was still stirring the hot liquid when Roarke returned, and looked up eagerly. "Hello, Mr. Roarke!"
"Your Majesty," Roarke responded warmly, with a bow. "Welcome to Fantasy Island. I presume you've been waiting to speak with me?"
"I have. Leslie was kind enough to answer what questions she could, but she thinks you may have more information for me. I know she outlined the dangers of the cure in her message and even insisted we shouldn't volunteer, and Uncle Christian has been yelling at me about it nearly since I arrived, but I'm determined to do this..." Leslie, who had a few errands that needed doing, left Gabriella to her chat with Roarke, and took care of the few small things quickly before following an instinct and parking the car near the entrance to the beach where Christian normally ran.
She took off her shoes and rolled up the white pants she wore during weekends, then struck out across the sand. The day was somewhat overcast, so there was no one else at all on the beach at the moment, even once she passed the first section that was so cluttered with marine debris, climbed over the spit of palm-studded land that split the strand in two, and came out onto the more sheltered stretch of sand. Here, pausing, she could see a figure at the far end, just turning and making its way back in her direction. She settled her stance and waited patiently, watching Christian's gradual approach. It took him a while, telling her he'd probably been running hard for quite some time and was winding down. His head had drooped, another sign of energy depletion, so he didn't see her till he was just a few yards away and she called his name.
He stumbled to a halt and looked up, panting so hard he was wheezing slightly. He smiled, but didn't have enough breath to speak, so just stood gasping. She crossed the remaining distance between them, taking in his exhausted condition, the sweaty sheen that coated his skin, the way his T-shirt and shorts stuck to his wet body. His hair hung in damp spikes, and as she watched, sweat drops rolled down the sides of his face; one even dripped off the end of his nose. "Maybe you need to wade a little," she offered.
"I'll...take...a...plunge," he managed, and she nodded, watching him push his depleted body into the gentle surf and submerge himself, even his head. She didn't realize how hard he must have pushed himself till he had to literally crawl out of the water on his hands and knees, at first constantly twisting his head to one side or the other in order to breathe till he got into shallow-enough water to lessen the risk of drowning. Once he was back on the sand and she had helped him up, he just stood with head hanging, still breathing hard.
After a few minutes he said, "Well, I think I feel better now. Mostly." He looked up with an apologetic smile. "I'm still badly bothered about Briella's decision, but both you and she are right: there's nothing I can do about it, and it's entirely up to her. All I can do is stand by and watch, like some damned helpless spectator."
Leslie smiled sympathetically. "Christian, my love, don't ever think I'm not worried myself. But Father said that she and her sisters had as much right to know about the possible cure as any other person on amakarna, royalty or not."
"My Rose," he admonished, "I should think you'd know me better than that, after the twelve years we've been together. My objections have nothing to do with her being royalty and supposedly indispensable to the jordiska people. They're because she's my niece and part of my family. I would object to any of my family stepping forward for this trial run." He considered. "Well, except perhaps Arnulf, if he were still alive."
Leslie snickered. "I stand corrected," she said dryly, and he grinned. "I don't have too much to do right now, and there's still another forty minutes till lunch. Maybe we should head for home so you can clean up and change clothes."
He smiled at that and suggested softly, "Perhaps that's not all, hm?" She giggled, gave him a playfully noisy kiss on the lips, and took his hand, towing him along with her to the car. When he got suggestive, she knew things would be all right.
