Patriot games - Tom Clancy [51]
"You sure-when?"
"I'm sure, darling, because, A, I'm a doctor, and B, I'm two weeks late. As to when, Jack, remember when we got here, as soon as we put Sally down to bed It's those strange hotel beds. Jack." She took his hand. "They do it every time."
There wasn't anything for Jack to say. He wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and squeezed as discreetly as his emotions would allow. If she was two weeks late-well, he knew Cathy to be as regular as her Swiss watch. I'm going to be a daddy-again!
"We'll try for a boy this time," she said.
"You know that's not important, babe."
"I see you've told him." The Queen returned as quietly as a cat. The Duke, Jack saw, was talking to Admiral Charleston. About what? he wondered. "Congratulations, Sir John."
"Thank you. Your Majesty, and thank you for a lot of things. We'll never be able to repay you for all your kindness."
The Christmas-tree smile again. "It is we who are repaying you. From what Caroline tells me, you will now have at least one positive reminder of your visit to our country."
"Indeed, ma'am, but more than one." Jack was learning how the game was played.
"Caroline, is he always so gallant?"
"As a matter of fact, ma'am, no. We must have caught him at a weak moment," Cathy said. "Or maybe being over here is a civilizing influence."
"That is good to know, after all the horrid things he said about your little Olivia. Do you know that she refused to go to bed without kissing me goodnight? Such a lovely, charming little angel. And he called her a menace!"
Jack sighed. It wasn't hard for him to get the picture. After three weeks in this environment, Sally was probably doing the cutest curtsies in the history of Western Civilization. By this time the Palace staff was probably fighting for the right to look after her. Sally was a true daddy's girl. The ability to manipulate the people around her came easily. She'd practiced on her father for years.
"Perhaps I exaggerated, ma'am."
"Libelously." The Queen's eyes flared with amusement. "She has not broken a single thing. Not one. And I'll have you know that she's turning into the best equestrienne we have seen in years."
"Excuse me?"
"Riding lessons," Cathy explained.
"You mean on a horse?"
"What else would she ride?" the Queen asked.
"Sally, on a horse?" Ryan looked at his wife. He didn't like that idea very much.
"And doing splendidly." The Queen sprang to Cathy's defense. "It's quite safe, Sir John. Riding is a fine skill for a child to learn. It teaches discipline, coordination, and responsibility."
Not to mention a fabulous way to break her pretty little neck, Ryan thought. Again he remembered that one does not argue with a queen, especially under her own roof.
"You could even try to ride yourself," the Queen said. "Your wife rides."
"We have enough land now. Jack," Cathy said. "You'd love it."
"I'd fall off," Ryan said bleakly.
"Then you climb back on again until you get it right," said a woman with over fifty years of riding behind her.
It's the same with a bike, except you don't fall as far off a bike, and Sally's too little for a bike, Ryan told himself. He got nervous watching Sally move her Hotwheel trike around the driveway. For God's sake, she's so little the horse wouldn't even know if she was there or not. Cathy read his mind.
"Children do have to grow up. You can't protect her from everything," his wife pointed out.
"Yes, dear, I know." The hell I can't. That's my job.
A few minutes later everyone headed out the room for dinner. Ryan found himself in the Blue Drawing Room, a breathtaking pillared hall, and then passed through mirrored double doors into the State Dining Room.
The contrast was incredible. From a room of muted blue they entered one ablaze with scarlet, fabric-covered walls. Overhead the vaulted ceiling was ivory and gold, and over the snow-white fireplace was a massive portrait-of whom? Ryan wondered. It had to be a king, of course, probably 18th or 19th century, judging by his white pantyhose, or whatever they'd called them then, complete with garter. Over the