“Well,” said Jack leaning back against the headboard and opening his arms wide, “that was a lot of fun, kids.”
Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan, co-regent of the planet Sergyar, Betan in origin and thoroughly Betan in, er, sexual habits and customs, said nothing but smiled sweetly and snuggled contentedly under Jack’s arm.
On the other side of their visitor, Aral was looking as croggled as a Barayaran man faced with a time-travelling sexual omnivore and an understanding and enthusiastically participant wife could reasonably expect to look.
The Regents’ Bed was a good size although it was of course designed for, well, a proper Barrayaran marriage bed. You know, one with TWO people in it. Not three. Not when one of them was a smug intergalactic time travelling sexual omnivore wearing nothing but an enormous grin and a rather fetching but inexplicable bucket-shaped hat. With a tassle.
Aral collected his manners and his wits and managed a coherent “um”.
“Quite,” added Cordelia. “Only one of our armsmen and a chambermaid will be here in about five minutes with our breakfast. And I really don’t think Barrayar is ready for you yet, lovie.”
“Barrayar?” Jack said nervously. “I thought this planet was called Sergyar?”
“Oh no - Sergyar is where we’re stationed at the moment. Just now we’re on home leave for our son’s wedding…”
“Your son is called…?”
“Miles is the elder. The one getting married is Mark.”
“Mark… Vorkosigan… of Barrayar???”
But Jack Harkness was suited, booted and strapping on his vortex manipulator before either of them could muster the wit to say “yes”.
The fez lay on the night stand, but the traveller was gone.
“You know, love,” Cordelia said carefully, “I’m sure there’s an interesting story there somewhere.”
“Promise me,” Aral said hoarsely, “that it’s one you’ll never tell me, even if you ever find out.”