Fantasyland 04 Broken Dove (37 page)

“
Magnificent,
” he growled.

Her orgasm shook her then started drifting away and he saw her eyes open just before his head jerked back, he felt the muscles in his neck straining, his hips bucking, before his head fell forward and he buried his face in her neck, driving deep, staying planted and he groaned.

Yes.

Magnificent.

She held him to her as it shuddered through his frame, and he felt her press her lips to his neck.

So damned sweet.

Finally, he drew in a deep breath before he slid his tongue up her neck.

At that, he absorbed her shiver.

He lifted his head and caught her eyes.

“How’s this for
in there
, dove?”

She lifted her head, shoved her face in his throat and let out a giggle.

That giggle, another triumph.

He twisted his neck and skimmed her temple with his lips. She dropped her head to the pillow and he smiled at her.

Her hand moved from his hair to his cheek and she whispered, “God, you’re beautiful.”

Those words cutting through him, he closed his eyes, turned his head and kissed her palm.

Then he moved his lips to her nose where he kissed her before he pulled back an inch and looked into her eyes.

“I don’t know what you prefer, Maddie, but I’ll tell you, I prefer you sleep in nothing. I want to feel your skin against mine tonight.”

“Okay,” she agreed quietly.

He dipped his head to brush his mouth against hers.

“I’ll deal with the sheath and return.”

“Okeydokey.”

At that, he gave her another brush of his lips and, with great satisfaction, he watched her lips part as he slid slowly out. Once he lost her, he bent his head deeper and glided his lips across her throat before he rolled off the bed.

He tossed the covers over her and watched her turn to the side, curling into herself. Only when she settled did he move away from the bed and into the shadows.

He made short work of dealing with the sheath and emerged from the darkness. He felt her eyes on him as, naked, he moved to the fire, threw on some logs, stirred it then went back to her.

He joined her in bed, yanked the covers up to his waist and pulled her into his arms, tangling their limbs and doing it tight.

She pressed her cheek into his chest.

“I’m assuming from what just occurred, you also enjoy gentle and slow,” he noted, sliding his fingers through her hair.

She emitted a short, sweet giggle and replied, “Yeah, that worked for me.”

He stopped moving his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer.

She snuggled even deeper.

Then he felt her draw in a deep breath before she murmured, “Just so you know, honey, if your intention in bringing me to this world was to give me better, swordfights and bloodshed notwithstanding, you’re succeeding.”

His chest warmed, his heart squeezed, his arm around her got tight and he felt a rumble roll up his chest.

But instead of howling his elation, Apollo put his other hand to her jaw, tipping it so his mouth could crush down on hers.

He took her open-mouthed and wet. He did it deeply. He did it thoroughly. He drank from her, taking as much as he wanted for as long as he wanted. And as long as he wanted meant he did it a bloody long time.

When he finally released her mouth, she gasped, “And it keeps getting better.”

“Cease talking, Madeleine. The children are expecting me for breakfast, and if you don’t, we’ll both get no sleep tonight, I’ll eventually sleep late and they’ll eat alone.”

He watched her press her lips together.

He shook his head, but he did it quelling a smile, before he rolled to his back, taking her with him so she rolled over him.

He turned out the lamp by the bed.

He rolled them back and arranged them in the exact position they were in.

She cuddled deeper and mumbled, “’Night, baby.”

His arms got tighter and he whispered, “Goodnight, my dove.”

He felt her face move against his chest and he knew it was with a smile

Apollo held her close and within minutes, he felt her sleep.

Just so you know, honey, if your intention is to give me better…you’re succeeding.

And there it was.

It was indeed
he
she saw when she looked into his eyes while he was taking her, or any other time she did it.

And
he
was giving her better.

He didn’t quell that smile. He let himself have it before he rolled into her and joined her in sleep.

* * * * *

Three hours later, Apollo opened his eyes to a mostly dark room, the firelight only casting a dim glow.

Maddie’s soft naked body was pressed to him, her cheek on his shoulder, her arm heavy across his stomach. He felt her warm weight. Her closeness. Her soft breaths against his skin.

But in that moment, having her as he wanted, his mind could finally move to other things.

And when it did, his lips whispered into the dark, “Why did they not use magic?”

Chapter Fifteen

Happier

I pulled the nightgown over my head and let it slide down my body, the hem of sapphire satin swirling around my ankles.

Apollo was in the bedroom undressing for bed. I was in the dressing room off the bedroom, doing the opposite.

It had been three days since our mad dash back to Karsvall.

The good news was, in that time, Apollo hadn’t killed anybody and I hadn’t threatened anyone with hedge clippers.

There was no bad news.

This didn’t mean that things hadn’t been eventful. They had.

At first, I was worried that it would be boring.

Sure, when I lived with Pol, we had a cleaning lady and most of his clothes were of the dry cleaning variety, and seeing as I had no job, there wasn’t much to do. But I still did our laundry, the dishes, cooked. It wasn’t like we had a house full of kids where I spent my time tidying toys or bandaging knees but I had things to do.

The second full day I was there, Cristiana did everything, like putting away the contents of my trunks that had arrived from Vasterhague and even making the bed.

This left me with nothing. I’d already made snowmen and the guys had preparations for war to carry out so I was at a loss seeing as I couldn’t hang out with them.

And then, in the afternoon, Loretta and Meeta arrived.

They were my ladies maids.

This made Cristiana’s job even easier as Apollo had brought them to the house, introduced them to me and explained their duties were to look after my “bedchamber” and my “person,” so even Cristiana didn’t have to tidy my clothes or make the bed anymore.

And seeing as I didn’t even have to look after my “person,” the presence of Loretta and Meeta meant I’d have
nothing
to do.

Further, Loretta either knew or had seen the other me around because she freaked way the heck out the minute she saw me (in a quiet way—that would be, her mouth dropping open and her eyes bugging out). This wasn’t unusual but it was getting tired.

Fortunately, Meeta didn’t.

And Meeta surprised me because she was black and I hadn’t seen a black person the entire time I was in that world. She was also pretty, with her hair clipped short to her head, very dark, smooth skin and a beautiful long elegant neck that was to die for. Oh, and she had very intelligent, very assessing eyes.

And last, she had an easy white smile that made me like her instantly.

But the introduction of Loretta and Meeta became a boon because, with none of the women having much to do, this meant we could spend our afternoons gabbing, which we did.

Fortunately, like everyone who knew the Ilsa before me, Loretta got over the resemblance quickly.

Unfortunately, the gabbing included Meeta matter-of-factly sharing that she was from the Southlands, a country called Maroo, and she had been a slave.

Yes.

A slave.

She then shared she was captured as a young woman and taken to another country called Keenhak where she was put into service against her will.

She also shared she wasn’t really fond of that slave business (understatement). So she conked her “master” on the head, stole some of his valuables, spirited herself into the night and traded the stuff for passage on a pirate ship that took her to the Northlands.

Yes.

A pirate ship.

No kidding, this was her story.

She got as far away as she could, that being Lunwyn.

“I will take the cold, and all these clothes,” she said in her smooth but accented voice, her graceful hand indicating her clothing. “And do it happily to earn a wage and lay my head down free every night.”

I was totally with her.

I’d also learned that Loretta had been laid by Hans. This I found because the guys still came around even if their strategy sessions were no longer held at the house. And I found it when he walked in, totally ignored her and greeted me like I was his long lost sister even though he’d seen me two days before.

Loretta watched this, got teary-eyed, mumbled an excuse and exited the room. Cristiana later shared why, this being that Loretta had slept with Hans, he hadn’t come back for seconds and she still had a big old crush on him.

Cristiana also took this opportunity to share that Apollo’s men were quite active in the village and amongst the servants so, “Every other maid you’ll pass, dearie, will have known the stroke of an Ulfr soldier’s cock.”

By the way, during my gabs with the girls, I learned that sexual mores here were a lot more lax. This being demonstrated by Cristiana’s words.

And also by the way, knowing this about the boys, I was glad Cristiana was over fifty years old and married, “To the love of my life, the stubborn, useless cuss.” (Her words.) Therefore, she wasn’t in danger of getting laid by one of the guys (I hoped).

I liked these ladies a lot and it was fun making friends again. There was a time when I had friends, but Pol, just being Pol but also doing what he did, scared them all away.

It felt good to gab with the girls, get to know them, and in doing it feel more settled in this world.

The other thing that was good was the dower house.

Outside, it was made of lacy, carved wood that had been weathered to a dark finish that made me think of chalets in the Alps.

Inside, it was what Apollo said it was, warm and welcoming.

But there was nothing rustic about the dower house of Karsvall. Its décor was sumptuous (though not as refined as the house in Fleuridia), yet tasteful.

That said, it seemed lived in and loved. There were beautiful pictures of flowers on the walls and graceful vases or figurines here and there. And there were warm throws and fluffy toss pillows that made cuddling up with a book or having a gab with the girls feel homey and cozy.

It had a formal sitting room and dining room as well as a big kitchen downstairs. There was also a study that doubled as a library (thank God, more books!) and a small sewing room. But the best part of the downstairs was the conservatory at the back, made of glass and filled with plants—on tables, hanging from baskets, the windows dripping with damp.

The upstairs had three bedrooms with the “master bedchamber” having a dressing room, a bathing room and an additional small room (yes, for the chamber pot). It also had a massive fireplace with a cream marble mantel that provided a beautiful contrast against the dark wood paneling of the walls. It was decorated in creams and soft yellows with hints of peach and was quite feminine, the down comforter even tipped with dripping scallops of eyelet.

I’d learned that Apollo’s mother lived there but not much more as Loretta and Cristiana gave each other big eyes and changed the subject practically before it was brought up.

I didn’t push it. I didn’t want to make them feel weird or force them to share anything that might annoy Apollo.

And anyway, I wanted him to tell me himself, in his time.

As for Apollo and me, our days had found a rhythm. This being him getting up way early in the morning, waking me to tell me he was going to eat breakfast with his kids, then he’d touch his mouth to mine and leave.

During the day, he’d mostly be away unless he had some free time. If he did, he’d come visit me, but it was never for long.

Still, it was nice he did that.

And in the evening, he arrived just in time for a late dinner, which was after his kids had gone to have a bath then to bed.

Up next was the best part of any day, when
we
would go to bed and he’d make love to me. We’d spend some time whispering after we made love, these mostly sweet nothings while we cuddled (the second best part of any day). Then he’d either make love to me again or we’d go to sleep.