Carpathian 17 - Dark Celebration

amazing progress, Shea. And you will find the answers to this puzzle."
    "I believe I will," she agreed, "but I'm not so certain we'll be able to do very much to counteract the problems. And I'm not sure if I can find all those pieces to the puzzle and the answers in time to do us much good." Her hand rested over her unborn child.
    It was the first time both men had ever heard Shea sound so defeated. She was very single-minded—analytical. Always determined to keep moving forward believing science could provide answers.
    She is tired, Mikhail. She will never give up.
    Mikhail forced a small smile, deciding, with Shea so close to her time, it wouldn't be a good idea to bring up the infant-mortality rate. He needed a safe change of subject. "I forgot to mention a very important detail in tonight's festivities. Raven informed me it was my duty as prince of our people to play Santa Claus."
    Jacques choked. Shea coughed behind her hand.
    Mikhail nodded. " Exactly . I have no intentions of putting on a white beard and a red elf suit. However…" He grinned evilly.
    "What are you planning, Mikhail?" Jacques asked suspiciously. "Because if you think to pass this distasteful task on to your brother…"
    The shake of Mikhail's head was slow and deliberate, his dark eyes dancing with mischief. "I have decided there is a use for a son-in-law after all. I will inform my dear son that it is his duty to wear the red suit."
    Jacques opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Shea pressed her hand hard against her lips, her eyes wide with shock. "Not Gregori. He'll scare all the children," she whispered as if Gregori might hear her. "You aren't really going to ask him, are you? None of the Daratrazanoff brothers can play Santa. It would be… wrong."
    Jacques's smile widened, and Mikhail felt his heart squeeze hard in his chest.
    What is it, my love? I will come to you if you need me . Raven's soft voice filled Mikhail's mind with warmth.
    Nothing now that you have touched me , Mikhail reassured her through their telepathic link.
    "I want to be a little mouse in the corner watching when you ask him," Jacques decided.
    "Let me know when you are going to his house."
    Shea glared at her lifemate. "Don't encourage him. Gregori is the bogeyman of the Carpathians. Even now, the children whisper his name and hide when he comes near them.
    I'm not certain I've ever seen the man smile."
    "I would not be smiling if I was wearing a red suit and white beard," Mikhail pointed out.
    "But you're gentle, Mikhail, and Gregori is…" She frowned trying to think of a word that wouldn't be considered offensive.
    "Gregori," Jacques supplied. "It is a wonderful idea, Mikhail. You do plan to tell his brothers? They will want to be there when you let him know the important part he will be playing in this night's activities."
    Shea gasped. "You two aren't serious are you? Joking is one thing, but Gregori as Santa boggles the mind."
    "I must have some pleasure from all of this, Shea," Mikhail pointed out. "Just the thought alone of the look on his face when I tell him it will be his job to dress in this ridiculous manner is enough to improve my mood considerably despite the festivities."
    Shea put both hands on her hips. "Carpathian males are such babies."
    "I am off to see Aidan," Mikhail announced. "Good luck with the bread, Jacques." He looked around the kitchen. "I trust you do not have to use human ways to clean up the mess."
    Shea laughed and waved him away. "The bread is going to be wonderful." When Mikhail left the house, Shea turned to face Jacques. A slow smile lit her face and mischief danced in her eyes. "Did you have fun talking manly Carpathian secrets with your brother? Because you do know you're going to tell me everything he said, don't you?"
    "Am I?" Jacques turned her fully into his arms. "I can feel how tired you are, and your back is still hurting. You should be in bed resting." He interspersed his order with small kisses all over her face trailing to the corner of her mouth. All the while his body subtly pushed hers so that she walked backward toward the kitchen door.
    "You aren't going to get out of telling me, no matter how charming you are," she warned.
    "And I'm turning white. How did you get all that flour all over the kitchen? It looks like a war zone."

    "It is a war zone," he groused. "I do not know how these people do this on a regular basis." He continued to nudge her gently through the hall toward the bedroom, concerned