The Lost Ones Ch. 6

The day of their wedding dawned bright and clear, the crystal blue sky dotted by cottony puffs of clouds. Maria had worked like a fiend in her determination to make her precious Hunter's wedding day perfect. She had taken on the duties of Mother of the Bride with glee--dragging Miranda to the mainland to look for a perfect wedding dress. They'd browsed through bridal shop after bridal shop, but hadn't found anything appropriate for a young woman with the swell of four months of pregnancy rounding her belly, much less comfortable for an outdoor wedding in any of them. Several of the women who owned or ran the shops had volunteered to alter a dress to fit Miranda's expanding waistline, but she had declined, unable to bear the thought of spending the day in some bulky satin or taffeta creation.

After lunch they'd stopped in a small antique shop. The woman behind the counter had given Miranda a radiant smile when she'd noticed her pregnancy. They'd chatted as Maria had browsed, and when Miranda explained that she was getting married, but hadn't been able to find a beautiful, comfortable dress to wear, the woman's face had lit up. "Hold on a minute," she'd said, and disappeared into a back room.

A moment later she returned, carrying a large, time-yellowed box. She'd set the box on a chair and with a flourish had opened it and pulled out a gorgeous, cream colored dress. It had been a simple style; scoop neck, long sleeves of soft lace, empire waist, the three quarter length skirt a light layer of silk with more of the gorgeous lace covering it. The moment she'd taken it in her hands, Miranda had known this was the dress for her. The woman had shooed her into the back to try it on, and when Miranda had stepped back into the shop, the look on Maria's face had told her what she already knew--she'd found her wedding dress.

* * *

And now she stood at Hunter's side on the white sand beach beneath arbor covered with white roses and ivy, and interspersed with seashells. The sunny beach was crowded with Hunter's friends and family. The sea was alive with Miranda's Aquian clan. Hunter held her hand tightly in his own, loath to let her go, even for a moment. They gazed at each other with eyes filled with unconditional love. They barely even heard the words the minister said to them, had to be prompted once or twice to speak their vows.

And before they knew it, they were exchanging the beautiful, custom made wedding bands Robert had had crafted for them as a wedding gift. The gold bands were inlaid with ancient Aquian runic symbols made of coral and mother of pearl, designed to bestow love and prosperity upon the wearers.

The tide was just beginning to lap at Miranda's and Hunter's bare feet when the minister pronounced them man and wife. Laughter and cheers surrounded them as they stepped from beneath the arbor, and found themselves being showered with flower petals and tiny seashells. Miranda flung her arms around her new husband's neck, laughing with joy over the ingenious blending of symbols of her aquatic people and Hunter's land dwellers.

* * *

The celebration continued far into the night, long after the bride and groom had, amid laughter and good natured ribbing, retired to their bridal chamber.

Miranda lay stretched out on her back, head thrown back, clutching desperately at the bed sheets as her husband--husband, God she loved that word!--did truly wicked things to her body with a long stemmed rose.

She gasped as the velvety blossom made laps around the aroused crests of her breasts. Hunter was barely touching her, the caress as light as the brush of a butterfly's wings, and Miranda's pleasure built steadily. Like a painter with a brush, Hunter drew the rose down, through the valley between her breasts, to run it over the swell of her belly. He laughed as she attempted to arch into the caress. Her fingers clenched the sheets tighter; he'd told her that she was not allowed to touch, only to feel. And feel she was.

Finally, it grew to be too much, and Miranda snatched the rose from Hunter's hand and, heaving the rose into the corner of the bedroom, bodily shoved him over onto his back. With a growl, she pounded on him, raining kisses over his face and neck. She refused to hold still long enough for him to deepen the kiss, and in very short order he was the one squirming as she wriggled her way down his body, planting those feather-light kisses over collarbones and sternum, around and around his own nipples and down over his abs. With her hands kneading his tight thigh muscles, and her chin perilously close to his aching erection, she looked up at him. Her eyes gleamed as her tongue darted out to moisten already ripe lips. And she gave him a teasing smile.

Just as she was about to attack, he reached down and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Oh, no you don't!" he muttered as he hauled her up and gently rolled her beneath him. A gentle caress proved she was as ready as she'd ever been for his possession, and, sealing her lips with a deep, passionate kiss, he settled between her thighs and slid home.

"Yes," she murmured as he began thrusting gently against her. "Oh, yes, Hunter! More!" She reached up and tangled her fingers in his dark hair, yanking his lips hard against hers. She kissed him with everything in her as he thrust harder and harder against her. They began to tremble together, and as one reached the peak of their pleasure. "I love you, Hunter!" Miranda gasped as she convulsed beneath him.

"And I, you," he murmured against her neck as passions lethargic aftermath settled over them both.

* * *

The doors to the balcony stood wide open to the fresh, warm night air. A brisk breeze ruffled the gauzy curtains, little brother to the massive storm churning the ocean far to the east of the beautiful tropical island, a storm causing heavy waves to crash and foam on the beach below. The hurricane could have been directly overhead for all the attention Hunter and Miranda were paying the weather.

A storm of a different sort was occurring at home. Miranda had been in hard labor for several hours. Hunter sat at her side, holding her hands and offering what comfort he could as his beloved struggled to birth their child.

An Aquian midwife stood off to the side, ready to offer assistance if needed. Her services had not yet been necessary. Hunter and Miranda had decided to follow the Aquian custom of birthing a child at home. Aquian births were usually surprisingly easy, seldom requiring any medical intervention.

Shortly after midnight, Miranda sensed a shift in the contractions she'd been suffering. She squeezed Hunters hand, and gave him a tight smile. "It' just about time, my love," she murmured. Hunter nodded, still not entirely sure about this method of birthing. He'd agreed to, had even been fascinated by, the idea of a home birth. But now that the time was nigh, he was discovering that he would have much preferred it if they'd been in a hospital surrounded by doctors and nurses, and drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. It practically killed him every time Miranda convulsed in contraction.

Gulping, and shooting the midwife a nervous look, he settled into what he'd come to think of as the catching position. Miranda's upraised legs pressed against his thighs as he reached out and took her hands, offering her support and resistance against the bearing down process. Miranda's grip on his fingers tightened bruisingly as she took a deep breath and began to push. As the contraction ebbed, she relaxed slightly. In less than a minute, she was gripping, gasping and pushing again. Again and again, for the longest twenty minutes of his life, this went on.

And suddenly, it was over. Hunter reached down and caught the tiny, wrinkled, dark hared body as it slipped from it's mother. The midwife appeared at his side with a blanket in hand and he turned the baby, and looked into the face of his daughter for the first time. "Oh my God," he breathed. "It's a girl!" He looked up into Miranda sweaty, exhausted, ecstatic face. "We have a little girl."

Relaxing against the pillows, Miranda put her arms out for her baby. Hunter wrapped the child as he'd been instructed, and handed her over to her mother. "Ahnika," she breathed, cuddling the baby to her breast. They'd decided, if the baby was a girl, to name her after the ancient Aquian goddess of new beginnings. And she was a new beginning. Her existence gave the Aquians hope for their future.

Many of the male residents of Hunter's island home had decided to offer whatever assistance they could to their undersea cousins. There weren't a vast number of unattached men, but there were enough to make a start at rebuilding the Aquian culture. Ground rules had been laid, and seemed to be being obeyed. There were four Aquian women currently in various stages of pregnancy by men from the island. Three pregnancies had been confirmed male. A major problem had presented itself when the fourth woman had wanted to abort the unwanted female she was carrying in order to try again. The idea had been firmly squelched by both the child's father, and by the leaders of the island. Unhappy, the woman had agreed to carry the child to term and turn the little girl over to her overjoyed father.

Hunter slid onto the bed beside his new family, wrapping them both in his strong embrace. The midwife had cleaned up and quietly left. "She's a miracle," Hunter murmured, gazing down at his sleeping daughter's face.

Miranda nodded. "Oh, yes." And as she cuddled into the curve of her husband's body and began to doze off, she reached out to him with her mind. ::Next time, we'll try for a boy.::

A boy. A smile tugged at Hunter's lips as he held his wife close and drifted to sleep.

The End

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Author's Note: This story is dedicated to my best friend. Thanks for the creative input, babe! Now it's your turn to start posting your stories!