Hearts of Ishira (Hearts of Ishira Saga) (30 page)

“The fur is from one of the indigenous creatures, whom I believe you might have already met,” he told her, smiling as he sat back down. “We know how to spin fiber into yarn, but there are other, more important things that we have to see to during the spring, summer and fall months, when the weather permits. But the
kimis
shed in tufts that can be gathered and stored, and they adore being petted and combed, so we often have many of them around, begging for attention. Some of the men have even taken them as pets. Most of us are far too busy to see to the weaving much of the year, though we have all learned to spin a bit in our free time and during poor weather when the training fields are soaked and we cannot build, garden, or hunt.”

As she dug into the fibers and started separating the colors, he continued, as though he knew she was absorbed in her fiber-geekiness, but was also paying attention to him.

“The winters are harsh here, so when the harvests are in, we spin and weave garments from this fur. Your blanket is made from it. It is frustrating, though because we must sew clothing in layers because the yarn and weaving tends to be so fine and thin.”

“Why not just ply the yarn to make it thicker, then knit or crochet it?” she asked, tilting her head to the side to brush her cheek with a handful of the fluffy stuff. She could sit and pet it all day long. “Both make a thicker, more insulating fabric, and they don’t require a large loom.”

“We have tried plying it, but the fibers are so slick that they barely hold to each other. But perhaps we can figure something else out. What are knitting and crocheting? Tell me of these, and the tools you would need,” he ordered with genuine interest, leaning forward eagerly with his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between them. She described the techniques and basic equipment to him.

He thought about it for a bit then nodded decisively. “I will procure you the necessary equipment,” he promised. “In the meantime, you said you know how to spin, correct?”

“Yes, with a hand spindle. I could make one, if you have some wood… I made a whorl out of a biscuit, but it’s back at the dorm.”

“A biscuit?” he asked, rearing back slightly, affronted. “Why would you waste food like that?”

“Hunter,” she sighed and gave him an ironic look, “It’s only really food if one is able to eat it. Those hockey pucks you call biscuits are impossible to eat for us.”

“They’re perfectly fine,” he said, scowling, his face going red. “We don’t have any problems with them.”

“Then you have razor-sharp teeth and incredibly strong jaws, which makes me think twice about letting you near my nibbly-bits with your mouth.”

“Maybe the rolls could use a little leavening,” he quickly back-pedaled, making her grin impishly at him. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “They are rather hard, but we tend to dunk them in fruit juices to soak while we’re eating the rest of our meal, then eat the biscuits as a sort of dessert.”

“Oh!” she breathed. “That makes a lot more sense. And with the biscuit in the juice, maybe it wouldn’t make us nearly as tipsy.”

“It makes you drunk?” he asked in surprise, his smile growing a bit wicked. She glared at him.

“Yes, and you’re a gentleman, Hunter, so don’t think of getting me drunk and having your way with me.”

“I don’t have to get you drunk for that,” he reminded her softly. She colored and looked away, biting her lower lip. He had some mercy, though, and changed the subject back to spinning yarn.

“It is unnecessary to maul your dinner to make tools,” he assured her, chuckling. “Though I do admire your ingenuity.”

He dug through the basket until he pulled out a top-whorl hand spindle that was meant for lace-weight yarn or even thread. She would probably need a heavier one to do the plying she’d been talking about, but that could wait for a bit. Hunter shook his head. “You are welcome to try to make a thicker yarn. If you are able to do so, please share the knowledge. Our best spinners have been scratching their heads for years.”

He and Ri talked about the vagaries of spinning with fine, short, slick fibers, and Ri found his knowledge of fiber arts to be a bit sexier than she would have thought. They both laughed at her efforts to get some thread started, with Hunter constantly chasing down the escaping spindle. But once she did so, Hunter was assured that she knew what she was doing. He sighed inwardly. Pity. It might have been fun to try to help her improve her technique.

“Have you thought about adding the fur from another animal, or a plant fiber, as a stabilizer for the
kimi
fur?” she asked after awhile. Hunter arched a brow, but shook his head.

“We have tried many different things, but nothing seems to stick to the
kimi
except more
kimi,
so we are limited to the finer thread from it. Fortunately, even a very thin blanket is very warm, because of the nature of the fur.”

He sat back on the chair, taking up a spindle himself and working on a different color of yarn than she was spinning. He enjoyed it every time he looked down at his work and she stole a look at him. He sensed her admiration…of him, his varied interests and abilities, his willingness to do something that had long been considered ‘women’s work’ on her home world. It heartened him. For just a few minutes, he let her watch, drinking in the energy she was broadcasting, the hunger for him that was growing within her, even though she was trying very hard to keep it at bay. He knew her reasons for wanting to keep him at a bit of a distance, knew that she felt she wasn’t good enough for him. But she was already hopelessly attracted to him, which he quite enjoyed. He decided to work harder to make sure she failed in the effort not to fall for him.

“It is good to know that you have similar pastimes,” Hunter told her after awhile, relief evident in his voice. “I was thrilled to see that in my absence most of the girls have ventured out and have become more social. I especially applaud your efforts at having them volunteer to help with the chores.” She looked up as he sighed, sensing his frustration. “But from what I understand, there are still some that are refusing to accept their new situation. It appears that some of your women, those who have aligned themselves with Amy, are becoming restless and I fear what they might do to relieve their boredom. I don’t know what to expect from that quarter. A few of the others seem to want to do something, but have no idea how to ask. Now that we know you have similar tasks to our own women, we can at least provide them with something familiar, to keep them busy.”

“Um, Hunter,” she said as he started to stand up. He paused, looking down at her. She hated to burst his bubble. “Not all women know how to spin, knit, and sew. Very few in my culture, in fact. Our world has technology to do that for us. Most people don’t know how to do those things anymore.”

“Then how did you come to know? Is it because you are older and wiser?”

She blushed at that, but shook her head. She would never get used to ‘older’ being a complement, though she knew he meant it as a mark of respect. Wiser, she’d gladly accept.

“I just like that kind of thing,” she shrugged. “I started knitting and crocheting when I was just a kid. Most women don’t anymore, though. Some of the girls might know how. I just don’t have a clue.”

He thought for a moment, obviously frustrated with this new information.

“If they are willing to learn,” he said, “Would you teach them?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “I love spreading my addictions. It’s more fun when you have others to play with, ya know.”

He smiled and cocked his head to the side in interest.

“So you are a teacher as well as a Reader?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so,” she stammered. He grinned and winked at her.

“And you claim not to be a leader.” He snorted then turned her attention to the balcony’s garden.

He grew serious as he gave her a crash course on the plants that surrounded her, ending with the ones that were edible. He plucked several fruits from one of the trees, offering them to her and telling her about their sweet, juicy pulp. A call from the courtyard interrupted him with an urgent summons from one of his teams.

He apologized for having to go, then left her with the basket of spinning before she could ask him to see if any of the girls wanted to visit with her. Probably not, she thought as he strode out of the quarters. They were much more interested in watching the men train, and who could blame them? Ri very firmly tamped down any further thought of the handsome men down on the field, and the sexy warrior who’d just left her.

She could use the alone time anyhow, she supposed, now that she had something to do. The view was wonderful from Hunter’s balcony, and at least she didn’t have to listen to Amy and Alicia anymore. The lack of mental and emotional noise was actually very soothing and did a lot to help ease the pain from her head.

For an hour or so, she experimented with thicknesses of yarn and twist, finally settling on a thin yarn that she could later ply into something a bit sturdier. Relaxing against the cushions of his balcony couch, she found herself truly content for the first time in a very long time. She began humming a soft tune to herself, wishing she had her MP3 player with her. The only thing this day was missing was her favorite new age music. It must be in the command center. She’d have to ask Hunter or Jace to get it for her, once it had been copied to the archives. She’d like to have her laptop back, as well. It had all of her pictures and videos of family on it, and she was deeply afraid of losing those. It was all she had of her big, boisterous clan, and even if she hadn’t been out in space long enough for them all to be dead and buried, she had lost them well before she’d been abducted. Making a mental note to be sure to ask for some sort of back-up on those precious pictures, she steadfastly refused to think about the actual images that were saved. She hadn’t looked at them since the accident, and didn’t plan to again for a very long time. But that didn’t mean that she didn’t want them available.

No! she cried to herself in her mind. She would not let the spiral start again. She was in a beautiful place, on an alien world, with supremely handsome and virile alien men lusting after her. She had every reason to be smiling, and dammit, she was determined that she would do just that. MP3 or no, she could make her own music and keep herself company.

She wouldn’t let the lack of it spoil the day for her.

She wanted to enjoy this moment, this day. She took in her surroundings, instead of focusing on what she didn’t have.

From her position, she could see into the courtyard below, watch the men sparring on the training field, other men working on buildings to the left of the main ‘lodge’, and she could see many of the other balconies… some with gardens and some without. As she happily spun the incredibly soft and silky fiber, she looked at the vegetation around her. Hunter obviously enjoyed color and variety. But he was also practical, as evidenced by the presence of fruits, vegetables, the tubers he had shown her, and the plants that apparently had some medicinal value. Did he also study medicine, or was it just a hobby? Maybe they were Jace’s? That made more sense. She had forgotten that they lived together, and wondered at that. Perhaps some of the plants were kept for household emergencies, like the aloe she kept on her kitchen counter back home.

Feeling a bit adventurous, she took up one of the fruits Hunter had picked for her and tested the skin. It was fairly thick, but slick, like an apple’s. Shrugging, she bit into it, sputtering at the amount of juice that exploded onto her face.

Laughing at herself, she wiped most of it off with the edge of her blanket, taking care to hold the fruit so that more juice didn’t pour out of it while she was cleaning up. The taste of the stuff was amazing! Bringing the fruit back to her mouth, she tipped it gingerly to her lips, drinking the juice first, then munching on the crunchy ‘meat’ that was left. Good stuff! It reminded her of muscadine wine, and even gave her the tipsy feeling that wine often did. She giggled, thinking of Hunter’s wicked grin when she’d told him the juice made her drunk.

Thinking of Hunter and inebriation brought color to her cheeks. Singing a soft, naughty little ditty she’d learned at a medieval festival about a Scotsman and what was beneath his kilt, she settled back and whiled away the day doing exactly what she loved, as she thought of Hunter and Jace in kilts. And nothing else.

Grinning to herself, she decided to make a small loom and see if she could weave a couple of blue silk ribbons out of the soft
kimi
fur.

Hunter found her in the same place a couple of hours later, smiling gently to herself and singing what sounded like a soft lullaby to the flowers and trees. Loath to interrupt her, he crossed his arms and leaned against the door that led to his little garden. His heart hitched. This was what he’d longed for, even back on his world, before war had shattered their lives and sent battalions of men out into space. The world that they had known had been taken over, their culture and society destroyed. Their population, decimated, escaped to the stars in the few working ships that were left on the planet. A final brutal attack from the Solvari had sent the small fleet of military and civilian refugee vessels in all different directions. The Thorsani flagship had been destroyed and many of the ships damaged. Hunter’s transport had taken heavy damage, their navigation and communications systems taking a critical hit, and he had been unable to join back up with the fleet. He had not even been able to contact them. By the time his top engineers had brought the navigation systems back on line, they had been wandering aimlessly through space for weeks, and had completely lost track of their fellow spacecraft.