Called by the Bear 1-3 (19 page)

C
arly

W
hen we told
Donna I was Marion's daughter, I thought she might wet her pants with excitement—first because she wished she could see Richard's face when he finds out a Robichaux is married to a lowly Le Roux and second because this will help our clans form a bond to stand strong against the Veilleux.

The focus of our lunch meeting today won't be what to do about Victor's attempt at mate rape on Sierra. Patricia isn't going to be receptive to an attack on her son, so we'll be approaching the subject as part of the discussion about interclan marriages.

We hug the curves of a back road as Donna speeds along toward lunch. Her black BMW makes me appreciate the handling of a car designed to make driving an experience, and the leather is smooth under my fingers as I grip the door handle when she flies around a hairpin turn. I should be nervous, but bears have impressive reflexes, and I know I’m safe.

She asks, “Carly, dear. Have you given any thought to the color of the nursery?”

“Not yet. Decorating isn't really my thing, so I thought I'd let Annie help me.” Rain races off the windshield in tiny rivers as the wind blows it, and the rush of splashing water sounds as a car passes by on the other side of the road.

Donna's simple French-twist hairdo makes her look a bit severe, and I think she should have pulled a few curly tendrils out to soften her face. She says, “I think it's sweet how much you're involving Annie in your pregnancy. She would have been a fantastic mother, and I know she's touched you want her to be the next best thing for your children.”

I pull on the hem of the linen dress Donna insisted I wear, and the fabric seems to wrinkle at my touch. Apparently this is a formal meeting, and I'm uncomfortable in the outfit Annie helped me buy. “She’s like the sister I never had. I'm grateful she wants to help.”

We'll be eating in a private dinning room in a hotel in Bangor because it's neutral territory for all clans. My stomach growls loudly as I think about lunch.

Donna says, “We'll have to get you some bread right away.” She smiles and glances at me quickly. “I was hungry all the time when I was pregnant. Do you have a snack to tide you over?”

“I'll be fine as long as we eat first.”

The paperwork Donna gave me to read last night was fascinating. Traditionally, marriage between members from different clans had not been allowed, and couples had to leave their clans to be together. But over time, enough did that an outsider clan formed in Canada. Unofficially, alphas have begun give permission if one of the partners is willing to change clans in order to keep members from leaving.

Switching clans is a big deal, because one gives up being controlled by a specific alpha to be controlled by another. This occurs when the alpha or the prima of the new clan bites the individual. Because it causes a short-term physical attraction between the two, things can get messy when you're dealing with werebear jealousy. It also has the potential to be dangerous in the wrong leader’s hands.

The process has been sorted out, the contracts have come back from the lawyers, and it's time to make intermarriage rights official and part of clan law. The prima are determining the logistics of presenting it to the werebear as a unified front.

I have a sneaking suspicion Donna wants to make Brady and me the poster couple for the announcement. But we're hesitant about sharing such information with Patricia and decided to keep it quiet. I sent Marion a message earlier, and she agreed it was a wise move.

Tires crunch over granite pebbles as we pull in before a pale-yellow historic mansion. The trim is ornate and a bit overdone for my taste, but when we enter, I decide it's charming. Drapes of heavy velvet adorn large windows, and the staircase looks like something out of the movie
Gone with the Wind
.

We're led to a room that has a table set for lunch and plush Victorian couches placed before a fireplace. I hope that's where we'll discuss business, because the sofas look comfortable.

Donna sends the hostess off to find bread as Marion walks in. Above a smart-looking suit of powder blue, her eyes are brilliant, and I wonder why I never wear that color, because it would do the same for me.

Donna reaches for Marion's hands, and they air kiss. She says, “Wonderful to see you again, and let me say, I'm pleased we're going to be sharing family.”

Marion replies, “Me too. While neither of us is old enough to be a grandmother, I think we'll be good ones.”

The two women chuckle, and I give air kisses to Marion. All the prima are doing it these days.

Ice rattles in a water pitcher, and when I turn to the waitress, hoping for my bread, a tall, slender woman walks in. Thin is so not in for werebear, and I'm instantly curious about Patricia Veilleux, especially when I notice Donna's smile become plastic. Growling sounds in my head as I tune in to her.

Patricia stares at me with brown eyes that look almost black enough to match her hair. She ignores Donna and Marion and says in a voice that could freeze the sun, “The new prima, and pregnant too. You must be so pleased, Donna.”

My bear prickles under my skin, and I exude confidence when I hold out my hand. “Patricia Veilleux, it's nice to meet you.”

Her long fingers are bony and surprisingly cool for a werebear when she shakes my hand with a firm grip. Probably because she's too skinny to stay warm. But she offers me a smile, and I wonder if I surprised her by not cowering. She's got nothing on hostile drunk men trying to get me to tattoo their dicks.

Donna speaks in my head.
“Brady called the right woman. You are a warrior.”

Marion doesn't say anything, but I notice a hint of a smile, and my heart warms a bit thinking she might be proud of me, too.

The waitress leaves without a word, and I notice a basket on the table. I say, “Excuse me, ladies, but if I don't eat something right now, I'll turn into a bear.”

Even Patricia smiles at my joke, and we all sit at the table. Donna has arranged a set luncheon, and I peruse the paper that outlines what we'll have. I think I should be well fed with soup, salad, quiche, and dessert.

Lobster bisque arrives moments after we sit, and I spoon in a mouthful. The creaminess makes me want to moan, but I remain polite.

Patricia asks, “So tell me, Carly, where have they been hiding you all these years?”

“California.” I think Donna should be the one to explain how I managed to get here. I take another spoonful of soup so she can employ her diplomacy.

Donna says, “I couldn't let the Le Roux clan die off, so I took action. We searched for women that had werebear ancestry and encouraged them to come live here.”

Patricia glances down at where my stomach would be if there weren't a table in the way and smirks. “And clearly they're the kind of women that don't mind breeding for you.”

I recall Sierra saying something similar when we first got here and smile. While I'm sure Patricia was trying to insult me, she didn't. I wanted to have Brady's children within hours of knowing the man. It makes me wonder if she has the same kind of love for Ambroise, and I guess not.

I place my hand on my stomach and say, “I certainly am. I can't think of a more beautiful thing than to have children with your true mate.” I realize my words might be hurtful for Marion, but I think she's aware they aren't about her. My spoon clinks against my bowl as I scoop out another mouthful. “If I have my way, we'll be having lots of them.”

Patricia says, “Charming. How many breeders did you get, Donna?”

“A few to start. You might have heard about one of them from your son.” She reaches for a piece of bread. “Did he mention our Sierra?”

Damn, she's going for the jugular, and we aren't even past the first course. So much for not attacking right away.

I have to hand it to Patricia, though. She doesn't miss a beat. “My son is quite popular with women these days. If he was taken with one of your girls, I'm sure it was fleeting at best.” She actually flicks her hand when she says the word “girls” as if Sierra's a hooker.

Anger is doing its best to surge to the surface, but I tamp it down with an ice-cold sip of water. I nearly choke when Marion speaks in my head.
“I've got this.”

Marion says, “Patricia, while boys will be boys, your son went too far at the wedding. I don't know if you heard, but he bit Sierra.” Patricia shrugs, but her face gets hard when Marion adds, “She was mated to another man. You know how we've cracked down on mate rape. Surely you wouldn't put us in the position to have to deal with one of our own children being punished, now, would you?”

Patricia's lips are thin, and I’d like to think she's feeling shame, but I doubt it. She answers, “I'm sure that while he may have gone too far, it wasn't an attempt at mate rape. You have nothing to worry about.”

Donna speaks in my head.
“You're up.”

“That's fantastic news. I'm sure Sierra will be glad he's out of her head. I'll tell her you'll take care of it.” I'm tempted to reach over and touch her arm, but I don't want to push it. “Thank you.” I sink my teeth into a piece of bread. My fangs poke out for a second as I gaze at Patricia and see she does the same.

C
arly

T
he rest
of our meal was spent brainstorming ideas of how to present the new interclan marriage law to the kingdom. It was decided each clan would announce it during their Fourth of July celebration. News travels fast when you talk in your heads, and everyone will know within hours. While some of the older population won't be happy, the majority of werebear shouldn't have a problem with something that has already been in practice for years.

The highly polished railing is smooth under my hand as we descend the wooden staircase. I say, “Donna, I'm going to use the restroom before we go.”

Donna points to a set of antique chairs. “I'll wait for you over there.” Patricia keeps walking. Clearly she's had enough politics for the day.

When I'm finished, I find Marion has waited with Donna. As we exit to the wet outdoors, Marion says, “Ladies, do you mind if we talk in your car?”

Donna answers, “Not at all. Right this way.” Her umbrella pops up with a snap as she walks briskly toward the car, and I splash along behind her with Marion by my side.

Once we're closed up in the car, rain beats gently on the roof, and it makes me long for a nap.

Marion is in the back and gets right to the point. “Now that we've gotten the interclan marriage issue sorted out, I have bigger goals for the kingdom. It's high time we became a collective council to rule instead of playing all these clan games.”

Smiling, Donna nods, and I'm glad Marion was the one to bring it up. I say, “From what I've seen, I think it's a good idea, but I get the feeling the Veilleux might not go for it.”

Donna nods. “Getting the Veilleux on board with the idea will be difficult.” She looks straight at Marion. “But there's no reason the Le Roux and the Robichaux can't work together.”

Marion smiles. “I think the same, so let's start there. Now do you suppose Brady will agree?”

A car drives by us, and water from a puddle splashes up from its wheels. Donna cocks her head and says, “We'll work on Brady. What about Richard?”

Marion winks at me. “There are some benefits to being the alpha.” She holds out her hand and shakes both of ours. “Carly, you did a great job dealing with Patricia. I'm sure Donna was as proud as I was.”

“Thank you. But knowing the two of you have my back made it easy.”

The car door opens, and I notice the rain has lessened. Marion leaves us, and I turn to Donna. “I think we can make the alliance happen, don't you?”

She nods in response.

“So, Patricia. Is she always so warm and friendly?”

Donna chuckles. “You handled her well. I think you come to this with experience dealing with difficult people.”

The rain increases in intensity, and I raise my voice. “Yeah, working at a tattoo parlor introduces you to some tough customers. I'm probably more fearless than I should be.”

“Fearless is good as long as you aren't foolish about it. Don't forget you're carrying my precious grandchildren.” She smiles, and my heart warms at her words.

I reach over and touch her arm. “Thank you so much for welcoming me into your family so quickly. I feel lucky to have you as a mother-in-law.”

It occurs to me that in the last few months, I've gained quite a family. Not only am I part of the Le Roux now, but I've found my mother.

The words Donna spoke to Marion about getting Brady to agree to an alliance come to mind, and I'm curious about what his reaction might be. I ask, “Do you think Brady is going to object to joining forces with the Robichaux?”

Donna snorts. “Yes. He's fine with being allies, but the idea of sharing power won't go over well. But between the two of us, he'll see reason.” I have no trouble hearing the word she mumbles as she starts the car. “Eventually.”

D
onna insinuating
that Brady would be reluctant to form a joint council with the Robichaux made me tread with caution when approaching the subject with my husband. But his reaction is more than I bargained for.

“It'll be a cold day in hell before I partner with them.” Brady isn't at the point he's going to shift, but his fists are clenching repeatedly.

“You do realize two of them are going to be spending a fair amount of time in our children's lives, right?” Hot cream splashes up when I dump frozen corn kernels into the soup pot.

Brady huffs and walks across the kitchen to yank a cabinet open. He tosses a box of saltine crackers on the table, and they slide across with a swoosh. We're having fish chowder for lunch, and he likes to crumble saltines into it.

I ask, “Would you care to explain the hostility?”

“You know the rich brats that look down their noses at you? Around here, they're always a Robichaux.” He pulls the silverware drawer open with force, and metal rattles loudly.

“Marion doesn't treat me that way. Besides, you're not exactly living in a cardboard box here. Do they really have that much more money than you do?”

“Yes, they do. Your mother is filthy rich.”

I sense there's more to this and decide to ask Annie about it later. I say, “Well. I would like you to think about it as a political move, because our two clans would be quite strong against the Veilleux.”

I leave the room to let him stew over my words and to use the bathroom. Apparently pregnancy is about eating, peeing, and sleeping.

When I return, he's stirring the chowder and says, “Ready to eat?”

“Yes.” Glass is wet in my hands as I take our ice waters to the table.

Bowls clatter onto the counter, and Brady splashes soup in for both of us. He carries them over and sets one before me as I wait for him to speak again.

The pepper mill crunches black specks onto the ivory surface of my chowder, and Brady sighs as he reaches across the table for my hand. “I'm willing to try to get along with your mother.”

I gaze into his eyes. My husband is an amazing man if he’s willing to try for me. Considering this is a start, I don't push for more. “Thank you.”

Hope blooms in my heart as I imagine my mother at the birth of our children and holding one of them in her arms. I ask, “Would you be okay if we invite Marion and Richard to dinner?” I put a spoonful of soup into my mouth.

Brady says, “Yeah, let's start off trying the family thing. Although I'll be surprised if Richard agrees to come.”

I decide to ignore the negative. “I'll talk to Annie, and we should invite Donna, too.”

He nods as he swallows. “You make good chowder.”

I guess he would like this conversation to be over. “Thanks. It's kind of hard to screw up. Annie's recipe is super easy.”

But I’m not done with the subject. I recall Marion telling me I was the only child she had, and I wonder who would have become the next Robichaux alpha if I hadn't come to Maine.

“Brady, do you have any idea who would have been the next alpha if I wasn't Marion's daughter?”

He frowns in concentration. “Only descendants can be alphas.”

Marion’s desire for a joint council makes sense now. If I hadn’t come along, her clan would have been left without a leader when she died.

No wonder the Veilleux aren’t happy. Without an alpha heir for the Le Roux and the Robichaux, power would have been all theirs. I swirl my soup, thinking about another bite. But I realize it’s cold and push my bowl away instead.