The Bear's Surrogate: A Paranormal Pregnancy Romance (3 page)

Rachel reached out and took his huge hand in an attempt to shake it and felt a shock of desire jolt through her as the flesh of their palms made contact.   Her eyes widened as she looked up at the massive man.  “Yeah, I hope so, too. I think I will,”  she stammered out. 

A smile brightened up the large man’s face as he realized what she was feeling.  “I’ll see you here tomorrow, same time.” He smiled as he exited the establishment. 

Rachel sank back down on her chair, shaking like a leaf.  She secretly hoped that it wasn’t through artificial means that she’d get pregnant.  The man was everything she had hoped for her first time -- quiet, kind, and handsome as fuck. 

She finished her coffee, grabbed her crutches and hobbled back to her flat.  She felt the beginnings of some early cramps signifying the start of her period.  No time like the present to keep track of things, she thought to herself.  At least that way, she’d know when to schedule things.

*

Rachel packed up the items in her flat as she prepared to move to Valemon’s manor in the countryside.  She figured she would be living there for the better part of a year, so she might as well bring her meager belongings with her.   She hobbled around on her plastic boot while carrying a cardboard box full of her earthly possessions.  A few mementos from her parents who had died in a car crash when she was a teen, some trinkets from meaningful times in her life, and an old Polaroid camera she refused to part with.  It was her first ever camera.  Her father gave it to her for her fifth birthday.  She smiled fondly at the memories.  Even though the film was dreadfully expensive at the time, her parents made sure she always had a full cartridge ready to go.

In another box, carried by Valemon, were countless old photo albums, filled with all her early photographic pursuits.   He put it down and took the box from Rachel’s arms. “You need to stop doing things,” he growled.  “You’re still healing from whatever happened to you, and I don’t want you incapacitated any more than you already are.”

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll just pack and you can lug, then. Really, I’m not totally handicapped, you know.”

“I know that, but I don’t want you falling down the stairs.” He ducked through the doorway with an armload of boxes.  The giant man was capable of carrying at least two boxes at a time, doing the work for both of them.

Rachel sat down on the metal and vinyl chair that came with her furnished flat.  She was silently grateful for Valemon’s help in moving her effects.  Honestly, all the activity was hurting her ankle and she was about to take another ibuprofen to ease the dull throb. 

He entered the flat once again and gave her a shy smile as he scooped up the remaining boxes in his enormous arms.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he was attracted to this tall, beautiful woman.  He wanted to keep it businesslike, but the more he spent time with her, the less likely that was going to happen.  He even called to cancel the appointment at the fertility clinic earlier that day, opting to do things the old-fashioned way; it would be more fun at least, for both of them.  The artificial process, he found, was too cold and clinical and might put the woman off, if that was her first-ever experience.

He packed the remaining few boxes in his SUV and closed the back.  He then turned to go back into the flat and saw Rachel standing there on her crutches, camera bag draped across one shoulder and a messenger style purse slung across her back.  “Well, I just turned in the keys.  I’m all ready to go,” she said sadly.

Valemon put a large hand on her shoulder and helped her into his vehicle.  He sensed a bit of reluctance from her as she hopped up into the passenger seat.  “Are you really okay with this?” he asked, concern showing in his ice blue eyes. “I understand you hardly know me, and...”

“It’s fine.  Really.  You figure, people have been doing it this way for centuries, right?  Like not a whole surrogacy thing, but...”

Valemon smiled. “I get it.  Look, after you have the baby, you’ll be free to go on your way.   I just want to keep a close eye on you, that’s all.  I am rather sizable and I don’t want any complications endangering you or the baby.”

Rachel nodded and looked out the window in silence.  She wasn’t sure why she felt she had to do this.  There was a mysterious draw to this giant stranger that she couldn’t put her finger on.  He was very attractive, but that wasn’t it.  She wasn’t the type to just jump into bed with the first hot guy to wiggle his finger at her, but Valemon intrigued her.  He was rich, solitary, and apparently has a very deep family line.  She looked a little more in depth into his family while waiting for the lawyer to finalize the surrogacy arrangements.

Apparently, Valemon’s family could be traced back to when the Vikings first started their civilization.  His was one of the oldest and most traceable family tree in the whole of Norway, next to the King of Norway himself.  The history behind him would be fascinating.  She wanted to learn more about him based on this alone.  What mysteries could she pull out of this “Son of the Bear.”

“You know, I’ll let you decide how you want to go about this,” Valemon said as he drove through the streets of Trondheim.   “You have two avenues, at least.  We could do it at the clinic, or we could...” he trailed off, not wanting to freak her out any more than he thought he had.

“Well, let’s wait and see how well we mesh before we set a method in stone.  I still need to track my cycles for a month or two so we can get the timings right.” She evaded the obvious implication.  It wasn’t as if she viewed her virginity as some sort of trophy that she had to hang on to, it was just that the whole experience of sex was alien to her and she was, to be honest, a little bit frightened of the prospect, especially with him.  “Like, I dunno, you are a rather big guy and all...”

Valemon shifted nervously in his seat.  “You’re worried I’ll hurt you.”  It wasn’t a question. 

“Yeah, I guess, never even bothered with tampons,” she lamely countered. “Like, I’m not one of those super virtuous people you’ve heard about, if that’s what you’re thinking.  I just never bothered, that’s all.  I chose my education and career over the whole dating scene.” 

Valemon sighed.  “You have no need to get defensive with me,” he rumbled.  “I find it admirable that you were able to keep your goals in sharp focus despite the obvious attention you probably had.”

“Thanks,”  Rachel replied as she stared out the window.  They were leaving the city and entering the countryside.  Sparse rocky moors sped by as they drove down the twisting road outside of Trondheim.  She really didn’t want to talk much at the moment.  Her ankle was beginning to throb and itch and she was cramping up from her time of the month.  Valemon picked up on her reluctance to chitchat and continued the scenic drive in silence.

The couple drove for a good forty-five minutes through the picturesque countryside.  Even though the Norwegian coastline was mostly covered in low scrub, there was an abundance of wildlife.   Arctic hares, turning brown to get ready for spring, darted across the scrub as a falcon circled overhead.

Valemon turned off the main road onto a smaller thoroughfare that had small conifers lining it. “It’s just up this lane,” his quiet voice rumbled. 

Rachel’s eyes widened as she saw an enormous castle loom into view.  Surrounding it was immaculately kept gardens, filled with rose and azalea bushes.   The stone building was green with moss and lichen that clung to its ancient surface.  Towers graced each corner of the castle walls, and a great wooden gate, carved with bears and stags, opened before them.  The grey slate roof of the estate peeked over the great stone walls of the ancient manor house.

“Welcome to my house,” Valemon understated.  “It isn’t much, but I really am fond of it.”

“It’s huge!” Rachel gasped.  “I mean it’s just so...”

“Well I’m a big guy, so I need a big house,” he replied with a grin.  The sun was setting and the orange glow seemed to light his hair aflame. 

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the handsome face of her -- for lack of a better term--employer.  He seemed genuinely pleased that she had agreed to the live-in arrangement.  She felt a tug of attraction to this strange, silent man.

He pulled up to the ornate front door of the castle and hopped out of the vehicle. Valemon walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle, opened the door and helped Rachel out of the SUV.  He then handed her the crutches, handed the keys to his butler and walked into the large stone edifice.

The tall butler, dressed all in black, hopped in the vehicle and drove it around back to park it in the garage.  Rachel, not used to such opulence, just stood there on her crutches, gawking.

“Let’s get you inside,” Valemon said with a sly grin.  “I think the kitchen staff have dinner ready to serve up.”  He took her by the elbow to help her up the stairs.  “Sorry about the stairs, Norway’s heritage society doesn’t want me to install a ramp.”

“It’s okay, thanks for the help,” Rachel said as she hobbled up the steps of the manor.  Her eyes became as large as saucers as she took in the elegant entryway.  A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling and two wooden grand staircases spiraled down from either side of a balcony.   Rachel thought she had stepped into a fairy tale; which type of fairy tale had yet to be determined.

The butler poked his head from around one of the columns that held up the balcony.  “Dinner is ready, sir,” he announced in his thick Norwegian accent.  The man was very slender and dressed in a black suit. His black hair was neatly tied back at the nape of his neck and his black goatee was trimmed neatly around his chin.  He deftly moved back into the shadow as Valemon escorted his guest to the dining room.

“It’s not going to be one of those huge formal dining halls with the super long table is it?”

“No,” Valemon replied. “We have a big hall for formal occasions, when they happen, but we have a cozy arrangement just off the kitchen.”

“Sweet.”  Rachel’s mouth was watering.  She was famished after all the exertion that day.  “So, how do you, like, pay for all of this?”

“My family is one of the oldest in Norway, used to be part of the aristocracy for a while, and then something happened a few hundred years ago.  We got drummed out.  My family decided to just abandon all morals and went pirate.  The rear wall is placed nearly against a sheer cliff of a fjord.  There are carved out tunnels that lead to caves where my ancestors hid their long ships while they weren’t pillaging the North Sea.  This castle was impenetrable from the sea, and only able to be approached from land.  During the middle ages, that was a big deal.”

They entered the small dining room and each took a seat at the small mahogany dining table.  The butler brought out a plate for each of them, comprised of poached salmon coated with hollandaise sauce and a side of steamed lamb’s quarters.  He poured a clear liquid in a small glass that was next to Rachel’s plate.  She picked it up, gave it a sniff and felt her nose hairs curling.  “What is this?” she asked.

“Oh, it’s Aquavit.  Our national drink.  You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.  It’s just customary.”  He smiled as he raised his glass to his lips. 

“Thanks, but you can have mine.  I never was much of a drinker.” 

Valemon laughed a deep, rich laugh.  “Anyway, after a few dozen years of being relentlessly pirated, the Norwegian crown proposed a truce.  They would allow us to become privateers, if we would just leave them alone, and give them a quarter of each ship we pilfered.  We readily agreed.  During that time, the looting of the Americas was well underway. We prowled the North Sea and downed English and Dutch ships loaded with cargo from Africa and the New World.  Made a pretty penny.”  He paused to take a bite of food, watching Rachel as she ate.  “After a while, it dried up, but not until we were beyond wealthy.  My grandfather decided to liquidate some of the gold into fiat currency and move it to Switzerland during World War Two, in case the Nazis found our home and sacked it.” 

Rachel listened intently to Valemon’s story.  All the rich history of his family fascinated her to no end.  She ate her salmon in silence as he talked about his family history to the virtual stranger.  It was important that she understood how vital it was for her to produce an heir for him.   She didn’t want all this history to be lost due to a chance accident.

“So, since the war, my family has been living comfortably off the interest my grandfather’s investments have brought in, and have no need to touch any of the principal investment.”

Rachel nodded as she chewed on a mouthful of lamb’s quarters.  She noted a hint of lemon, which accented the already peppery flavor of the greens and they were quite delicious.   She swallowed and took a sip of water from the glass the butler had discreetly filled while Valemon was talking.  “Not many people still have...”

“They’re employees, not servants.  They get paid the same as anyone else in Norway, and they get the same holidays and vacations as anyone in this country.” Valemon interrupted her gruffly.  He knew where the conversation was going.

“Anyway, their families have served mine for generations and see no reason to change the status quo; they get paid handsomely and are treated fairly, that is better than what they would get doing the same jobs elsewhere.”

Rachel looked abashed as Valemon pre-emptively corrected her assumption.  She picked up the red linen napkin and wiped her mouth as she finished her dinner.  She stood up and grabbed her crutches.  “I’m a bit tired, where’s my room?”