SILENCE IN WONDERLAND

'Then, Why Don't We Make One?'

You'd think that after our stunt in Athens, I would learn. But no. Oh no. Here I am again, posing as my dear employer's loving wife for the remainder of our stay here in France.

Mr. Lancaster saw the increasing demand of sugar and hemp in Africa. He wanted to exploit that so he came straight to the main source - in the southwest of France. I don't think that's the only reason though. I have a feeling there's more to his sugar-abaca story than he let on. He just hadn't told me yet. I'm sure though it had to do with the tales I heard about a war ship full of French gold bars that sunk off the Atlantic Ocean. Surely, he was after that.

The gold-hoarding jerk. Pshh.

And to make our acting more believable, this time he had to employ a babe fresh out from the mother's bosom.

Or not him but Walter, his most trustworthy errand boy.

How he did so with all that imposing size and weirdly-trimmed beard was beyond me, but it was working. He was able to successfully encourage the mother to let us borrow her babe for the three days of being here.

'Sufficient,' I heard Mr. Lancaster say when Walter returned in our cabin cradling the babe of probably a year old in his arms.

'Give that thing to Ms. Hayes.'

I narrowed my eyes at him.

Was he serious? I never handled a baby before!

'It's your plan, you hold the babe yourself, Sir.'

He eyed me - or more like threw daggers of ice at me, and then examined the sleeping thing again with a look that told he'd rather wear stockings - and then back to me, narrowing his eyes infinitesimally.

'You hold it or you'll be kissing your full salary goodbye.'

Without a moment's pause, I held out my arms and Walter was more than happy to hand over the babe to me.

I gave both of them a scowl and naturally, it didn't affect them.

Gazing down, the poor Little One still kept on sleeping. He looked oblivious to the machinations of my dear evil employer.

'Aren't you the sweetest thing.' I couldn't help it. I just had to kiss the babe's supple cheek. Despite my disapproval of this set-up, I just couldn't resist the charms of an angel sent from Heaven.

From the periphery of my vision, Mr. Lancaster looked at me in silence. A meaningful silence.

But after a second, he said, 'Make your motherly act believable when we disembark this ship. You can't possibly just give that thing kisses on the cheek.'

I twisted my lips. 'What would you have me do huh? Offer him my...uhm...breast to suckle on?'

A ghost of a blush, or maybe just my imagination, happened to appear on Mr. Lancaster's face.

'If that's a must to make this plan work. Go ahead.'

'Go ahead, Sir?' My temper rose. 'Of course! That would be advantageous for you.'

'Good that you see the benefit in it.'

He strode past me and went for the door.

Quickly, the cogs in my head started to work. If I am to play like a parent then he must too.

*

*

*

Room 459M.

I stared at the room number we, as a new family on vacation, were to share. Just like in the Antebellum Hotel, he rented out one room only saying this would make our back story believable.

I highly doubt it though. Cost-saving measures would be a fitting reason.

He motioned for me to enter first. Somewhat surprising, I know, but with the babe in my arms, it was expected he'd show a bit of care.

I settled in a sofa and arranged the baby on my lap. I smiled and cooed at him when he started to wake.

I felt Mr. Lancaster's presence far from me, sitting in the dining table with already papers spread all over the rectangular space.

I grinned. Now would be the right time to execute plan A.

'Why don't we try and practice this parent system thing, Sir?'

He didn't look my way. He just stared at the papers as if he was trying to freeze them on the spot. I heard a sifting sound after a minute and then, 'What are you blabbering about, Ms. Hayes?'

'His clothing needs to be changed, Sir,' I quickly replied and just to prove my words, I touched the babe's clothing - a really cute blue onesie with a train picture in the front, - and verified the soak of the cloth because of a very recent pee.

'Then do it,' he ordered.

I had the strange urge to whack his head with the picture frame behind him.

'Am I the only parent in this room, Sir?'

'I'm his father,' he pointed out, still not looking at me.

With a pursed lip and a lift of my chin, I decided a change of tac was in order.

'Then why don't you change the cloth of the babe, my dear?' I intended my voice to be sweet and tender. Too angelic for him to even resist.

This time, he eyed me, befuddled, and I had the pleasure of seeing his mouth open for a millimeter apart.

He placed the papers down and tapped a finger on the table.

'As you can see, I'm busy, my love.'

My insides flipped after hearing him said that. It had been - what - a year since he called me that? Hearing it now just made a lower part in me tingle.

But now wasn't the right time for mushy things. Plan A was my priority.

'Well, that's sad. Your father doesn't want to hold you it seems,' I said to the babe, pouting and acting sorry for him. 'Here, I'll do it myself.'

Reaching out for the babe's duffel bag, I took out a dry onesie of the color green. The infant babbled and squirmed while I changed him.

The whole event went about fine. It was fun. For a moment, I really felt like I was a mother.

Smiling widely, I held him up and kissed his forehead. The babe responded by drooling on my chest.

Oh, sweet.

'I'll call you d**k. Same as your father.'

I heard a low groan from across the room. 'That's not his name, my love.'

'Then what is it, my dear?' My brow lifted while glancing up at the fake father.

'For the remainder of his stay with us he'll be named, Sebastian Jr. It will-'

'Wait,' I butted in and arranged the baby supine against my chest, 'I think he is hungry.'

Plan A almost at the climax.

I could feel his arctic gaze on me. 'What are...you doing?'

There was a pause there; clearly hinting his brain functions starting to jumble.

Well, who wouldn't be at the sight of me unbuttoning my blazer?

'Feeding him,' I answered innocently.

By now, the neckline of my inner blouse was already in full show, letting Mr. Lancaster behold the whiteness of my chest and let the babe feel the smoothness of it.

'Are you producing milk in those...'

'Breasts?' I supplied, trying not to grin.

He remained silent, but his dark gaze was steadily on my chest.

'Of course not, but since you told me I should act the part properly, I might as well have him feel the warmth of these sisters here.'

I moved my shoulders a bit, wanting a little bounce of my breasts for him to see.

With the blankness of his face, I couldn't tell if it affected him but stand he did, much speedily, and was right in front of me seconds later.

Towering me.

Looking at me. Or more like looking at my ample lift with wonder and the babe with utter dislike.

'My love, aren't you playing a dangerous game?'

'Why would you say that, my dear?' Really, I'm so about to burst out laughing.

'Do you have to feed him in front of me?'

The tension in the room heightened.

'Well, you are the father, are you not?'

'Yes, I am.'

I shifted the babe to the side and pressed his cheek closer to my bosom.

'Okay then, you are allowed to watch. It's not like you haven't seen pink peaks like mine in your lifetime.'

Then I hooked a finger on my chemise in an act of pulling it down.

Mr. Lancaster stepped backward.

'Alyana, don't you dare.'

On the inside, I was laughing hysterically. On the outside, I pouted.

'But our poor Bastian Jr. needs warmth.'

His voice came out more like a lion's growl.

'I said, don't! Those belong to m-'

He abruptly stopped and then adjusted his tie.

'What, my dear?' A big smile spread across my face.

Plan A a success.

'Nothing.' Looking anywhere but me, he cleared his throat.

'What are you trying to say earlier? Come on, spill it out, Sir.' Quickly, I pulled the babe's milk bottle hidden at the corner of the duffel bag and positioned the tip of the teat on his mouth.

He eyed me again, but this time, it went back to the usual cold and calculating gaze.

'Just don't expose those...udders for your own good, Ms. Hayes. Not in front of me and most especially not for him.'

'For Bastian Jr.' I corrected.

'Yes, him.'

I stood up and walked closer to him.

'You can't be seriously jealous with your own son,' I said, touching his tense chin.

'He's not my son.'

I nodded just as he turned back to his scattered papers.

'Then, why don't we make one?'

He paused and looked at me with burning orbs.

"Come again?"