CHAPTER 2
Hoshi woke to the smell of bacon, and immediately felt her stomach heave. Forcing down the nausea, she took a deep breath and rolled over onto her back.
Malcolm must have come home some time last night, she figured as she looked over at his rumpled side of the bed. And now he was up and fixing breakfast at -- squinting at the clock, she made out the time -- 0600! She moaned, both at the time and at her unruly innards. A few more deep breaths through her mouth and her stomach settled down, and she cautiously slid out of bed.
She was still in the clothes from the day before. She needed a shower before she could do anything else. Padding quickly to the bathroom, she turned on the light and shut the door behind her. A few more deep breaths and a cool, wet washcloth rubbed over her brow and neck convinced her she could get right to a shower without any embarrassing delays.
Stepping into the warm spray, she grinned. Some homecoming this was. She had been so tired she hadn't been able to stay awake until Malcolm had arrived. And she still hadn't told him.
As long as he didn't catch her throwing up, she was going to wait until a more romantic moment. Perhaps tonight. They could have a nice dinner -- alone -- and later, when the timing was perfect, she'd tell him he was going to be a father.
Besides, he was planning to work with Trip today on the ship. She knew Malcolm well enough to know that her news might distract him enough to allow him to accidentally weld his hand to something or other. She also admitted to herself that it would be nice for just her and Malcolm to know, if only for a few hours. She imagined he'd be telling everyone on board about it if she told him this morning.
She was toweling off after the shower when she heard his footsteps in the bedroom.
"Hoshi? I've got something for you when you come out of there," she heard him say.
Smiling, she tied her robe closed around her waist and opened the door. Malcolm was standing next to the bed, holding a tray on which appeared to be breakfast for two.
"You were supposed to be in bed so I could surprise you," he scolded. His voice changed to a deeper timbre as he took in her freshly scrubbed face and damp hair. "That isn't bad, though."
He waited until she had seated herself on the bed before putting the tray next to her. He leaned down and kissed her over the tray. The first stirrings of arousal were squelched, however, by the renewed uproar in her stomach, and she grimaced against his lips.
Malcolm pulled back and looked at her in concern. "What's the matter?"
Struggling to keep down everything -- which wasn't much, considering she hadn't eaten since early yesterday evening -- she managed to give him a small smile.
"I'm not sure the bacon is good. It doesn't smell right to me," she said.
"Hmm." He sniffed. "Smells fine to me. Then again, you're the one who noticed the new ship smell."
As he moved the tray to put it on the night table, she wiggled around to get more comfortable on the bed. He turned back to find her waiting to press up against him.
"There are other things we could do for breakfast," he said, gazing down into her eyes.
She murmured agreement and reached up to stroke his face. "Why didn't you wake me last night?"
"You looked so peaceful," he said, leaning closer and gently pushing her onto her back. "If you were so tired that you fell asleep in your clothes, you probably needed your sleep."
"I'm well rested now," she said, drawing him down.
"All the better," he said before he kissed her, his hands beginning a slow re-acquaintance with her body.
She sighed at the sensation of his fingers stroking her neck, her shoulder, her upper arm, all the while her tongue dueling with his in a slow frenzy. She gasped as one of his hands roamed across her breasts, and she reached down to undo her robe, pushing it out of the way.
It was strangely erotic, being exposed to his exploration while he was fully clothed, and her hand rubbed across his chest and down farther. It was his turn to gasp when she touched him where he strained against his pants.
"I missed you so much," he whispered through a groan.
"Not as much as I missed you," she murmured.
He growled deep in his throat as he got up and quickly removed his shirt and pants. When he retook his place by her on the bed, she laughed softly as she fingered the waistband on his shorts. "You forgot something," she said.
"I thought you might enjoy taking them off," he replied huskily, guiding her hands to slide his shorts off.
There was no more talking as they found pleasure in each other, the desires which had been held back for three long weeks finally finding release.
The breakfast Malcolm had so lovingly prepared was long cold by the time their other appetites were sated.
"I'm afraid breakfast isn't any good now," he said as they lay in each other's arms. "I could fix you another."
"That's all right," she said hurriedly, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I haven't been eating much for breakfast lately." She untangled herself from him and hopped off the bed. "Now I'm going to have to shower all over again."
He propped himself up on an elbow as he watched her flit around the room, getting clothing from the closet and the drawers in the dresser. "Want some help?" he asked.
"No, I'm going to be late for my visit to the Rawala clinic if I don't hurry. If you help me in the shower, there's no way I can hurry."
His laughter followed her into the bathroom as she set about taking her second shower of the morning. By the time she was finished, he had come into the bathroom and was shaving.
"I need to get going, too," he said. "After I see you to the transporter pad, I need to get up to the ship."
Reaching past him for her toothbrush, she asked, "Have you come up with a name for it yet?"
Even though he was shaving, he kept an eye on her in the mirror as he answered. "I've given it considerable thought. Must have come up with a hundred names. By a process of elimination, I narrowed it down to a select few."
"Get to the point," she said impatiently as she put toothpaste on the brush. "What did you name it?"
He waited until she had put the brush in her mouth and had started vigorously moving it around.
"Morning Star," he said.
A blob of paste went down her throat as she inhaled sharply in surprise at his words. She coughed a few times and reached for the water glass, filling it as she croaked out, "Morning Star? You know what--"
"Yes, I do," he said, motioning for her to take a drink. "Your name means 'star.' It just seemed appropriate."
She took a drink of water and swallowed. "Did you know that my father used to call me his 'morning star?'"
"Really? We can change it if you don't like--"
"No! It's perfect," she said, reaching up to give him a kiss through the shaving lather. "It makes what we're doing seem...right."
"Ah, get on with you, wench," he said with a twinkle in his eye and gave her a gentle shove toward the door.
She sighed happily as she went back into the bedroom, amused by his turn of phrase. Old-fashioned movie phrases still peppered their conversations, a left-over from when she had captained the Falcon and had masqueraded as a pirate to seek the man responsible for killing her husband.
Her eyes went to the closet where her old Klingon outfit was hung. She kept is as a reminder of the transition from her former life with Matthew to the one she now had with Malcolm.
She would be forever grateful to Matthew for his expertise in the shipping business, through which he had built a successful fleet of cargo ships. After his death, she had sold the business, initially allowing her to finance her vendetta to avenge him, but now also bringing medical benefits to the Estabi through her clinics.
The fortune was also helping her to aid Malcolm in establishing his own shipping business so they could build a life together. She was wealthy, but Malcolm had too much pride to rely on her funds as the sole source of their livelihood. She was still amazed he had allowed her to pay for his first ship.
She thought often of Matthew, but it was more a bittersweet recollection than the raw pain she had once felt. She was certain Matthew would have wanted her to get on with her life. If he had ever met Malcolm, she thought it likely the two men would have become friends. Then she would have been in the awkward position, however, of having to choose between them.
She gave herself a small shake. There was no reason to dwell on the past and hypothetical situations. Must be the hormones, she told herself.
She was dressed and putting the finishing touches on her make-up when Malcolm, a towel wrapped around his waist, came out of the bathroom.
"How is it that I was the first one up but the last one to be ready?" he asked as he opened the closet and pulled out a turtleneck sweater.
She rolled her eyes and snickered, watching in the mirror as he put on pants and a shirt, and then pulled the sweater on over the shirt. When his head popped through the neck opening in the sweater, she caught his eye.
"What?" he asked.
"You used to look like a Klingon pirate," she said. "Now you look like you belong on some fishing boat in the mid-Atlantic."
He grinned as he sat on the bed to put on his socks and boots. "I hope this doesn't mean we'll be hauling live food stuffs on our first cargo run."
"As long as you keep the captain's cabin well-ventilated," she said, heading for the door to the living area. "I'm not sure I'll be able to handle animal smells on our honeymoon."
He stared after her a moment, then shook his head. Sometimes, he just didn't understand what she was talking about.