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My Dearest
    by
    Susan Sizemore
     
     
     
     
    "Come to bed, woman."
    Having just started the letter, Megere finished writing the salutation - "My Dearest Mother" - before she answered. "Is it love, or are your feet cold, my dear?"
    "Both," Adrew Osprey, Admiral of the Fleet and Lord of the North answered without hesitation.
    She did not put down her pen and fly to his side, even though she found his reply endearing. She did not even turn from her place at the folding desk to look at the bunk behind her. "An albatross leaves the Ironbound for Ang in the morning," she reminded the man whose flagship the Ironbound was. "I wish for at least one letter to my family to be in the mail packet on board that courier boat."
    "Considering the size of your family you could be up all night."
    "True. But my correspondence will not take up as much cargo room as I might wish on board your albatross. I write to my mother. She may spread the news that I yet live through the massed population of Cliffs and Owls, and all their friends, neighbors and in-laws."
    He grunted. Then after a moment said thoughtfully, "Your mother. Your mother the cleric. Your mother the professor of theology and philosophy. Your mother the author of sermons and books concerning ethics and all other matters pertaining to the moral fiber of the Ang Empire."
    "That mother, yes," she replied.
    She heard him sit up, and his bare feet hitting the deck.
    "Put on your socks," she said.
    He padded across the cabin to stand over her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Are you planning on discussing matters of an esoteric sort in this letter to your admirable mother?"
    Megere turned her head to gaze up at North's sharp-featured face. To her he was a most handsome man, especially when his wide mouth arched in a smile. His touch warmed and distracted her, as he knew it would. She bumped her head back against his flat stomach.
    "Skinny fellow," she said.
    "I am all wiry muscle."
    He was.
    "If you wish me to join you in our warm, comfortable bunk, let me get on with this. You know I will not be distracted when I have a pen in my hand."
    He drew her up out of the chair and took the pen from her. He tossed it onto the desk and put his arms around her, drawing her against his wiry frame. The thin material of his nightshirt left no doubt of his arousal. "Let us make love, my dearest." His hands caressed her back.
    Megere sighed, more with contentment than frustration at being thwarted. No matter what difficulties might occur aboard the Ironbound the relationship between the two of them in the privacy of this cabin remained strong and stable.
    Which was something she wanted to tell her mother.
    She looked up and met his gaze. His blue eyes were full of mischief, and the hunger that always aroused a heated response from her. "You do know that I will make such strenuous love to you that you will be asleep soon after, and then I will continue my correspondence."
    He spun her around, and onto their bunk. "We shall soon see which of us is more weary and sated when we are done, madam."
    Several hours later Megere woke from a brief, happy slumber. She turned her head toward the man sleeping beside her and kissed his cheek. She found her nightgown at the foot of the bunk, drew it on, and pulled a blanket over North's long, lean form before returning to the desk and the task she had set herself.
    The moss in the lamp had gone dormant, so Megere took a second globe of glow moss out of the lights cabinet and put the other lamp in the dark for a renewing rest. She took up her pen and put it to paper.
    The sea is quite calm tonight, and the weather warm since we are far south of where I penned my last letter to you. Though that letter was sent in haste to let you know we had survived the violent encounter with the Framin fleet over possession of a large iron stone. Since my brother Alix's ship was one of those dispatched to bring the iron meteorite we won to the smelting facility at the port of