“Did you speak to her?” Freya asked as Mal climbed down into their bunk.

“That I did.”

“And?”

“She wasn't any more forthcoming than I expected.”

Freya leaned back against the bulkhead where she was sitting in bed, the blanket pooled around her waist. She watched as Mal began to undress, pushing his braces from his shoulders. “So she really doesn’t know why she wants Jethro here?”

“Nope.” Mal sat down on the edge of the bunk and pulled off his boots, tossing them into the corner. He turned a little to look at her, the light catching the planes of her face. “Seems to be womenfolk can’t make up their minds sometimes over men.”

She smiled. “Are you being personal here?”

“Well, look at Zoe. Takes her forever to decide Hank might be the man for her. Then there’s Kaylee …”

“No,” Freya interrupted. “You can’t say that. She was the one who waited for Simon all that time. And I waited for you.”

“Yeah, but you ain’t womenfolk.” He leaned forward a little. “You’re my wife.” He touched her breast gently, cupping it and running his thumb across her nipple.

“Besides, I think it’s exactly the opposite for River,” Freya said, her breath catching just a little. “It’s been a long time since we were at Bathgate, and she’d been waiting for him.”

“Yeah, but she spent the time tormenting Jayne. Not sure that can be classed as waiting.” Mal looked down, watched her skin begin to tighten. Then he let go. “Sorry,” he said, looking up into her hazel eyes, dark in this light.

“What for?” she asked, her breast feeling bereft of his touch.

“Makin’ you all unnecessary when I can’t do anything to finish it.”

Her lips twitched. “I saw Simon today.”

“Well, I see him every day, only I don’t make a note of it in …” He paused. “Wait a minute. You mean you saw Simon?”

“Mmn.”

“About …” He nodded towards her belly.

“I told him if he didn’t say yes I was going to do something very nasty and very painful to him. In fact, I told him in explicit detail exactly what