Fantasyland 04 Broken Dove (78 page)

“Alas, you cannot. However, you were right those weeks ago. For him, you should remain here until he’s comfortable with you being there.”

She pressed her lips together, looking uncertain for a moment, before she asked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“You must agree that we had more important things to discuss,” he remarked and her brows shot up.

“More important than that?” she queried.

“Absolutely,” he returned.

“But…I mean…” She shook her head as if clearing it. “Apollo, your mother, your father, growing up like that, what you must have felt, there really isn’t much that’s more important than that.”

“There is,” he retorted. “You.”

The instant his last word passed his lips, he watched her entire body sway back as her lips parted.

Then he watched her eyes get bright.

And at that, he was done.

So he inquired, “Now, will you come to me or will I be going to you?”

She again didn’t answer him.

She whispered, “I should have shared.”

“What?” he asked.

She held his eyes, hers still bright, and repeated, “I should have shared.”

“Poppy—”

She interrupted him to explain. “I should have shared that what that woman said bothered me so much.”

“You should have,” he agreed gently.

“I’m not what she said I was,” she stated.

“No.” His agreement to that was far less gentle. “You aren’t.”

He watched her draw in a deep breath before she admitted, “I still don’t know what I am.”

“To that, what I must ask, my dove, is why you need to be anything but you?”

She blinked as if supremely perplexed by his comment.

“Sorry?”

“You are amusing. You are spirited. You are intelligent, loyal and brave. And you’ve led a life where lesser women, women such as your own mother, would long since have admitted defeat. But you never did. Can you not be content with all that is you, knowing there is so much of it, and enjoy what those around can offer you in return? Most specifically me, who simply wants you to leave the life you led behind, as well as the demons it left you with, and have one where I can make you happy.”

And again she did not answer.

She looked to the seat of the sofa.

But he saw the tear slide from her eye and glide down her cheek.

He felt the sight of that lone tear pierce his heart.

“Madeleine, please come to me,” he whispered and she turned her eyes back to him.

“You give me a lot,” she whispered back.

“I do. But that scale is not unbalanced.”

“I—”

“Maddie, please cease listening and
hear
me. I shared earlier the gifts you’ve bestowed on me, these being the reasons why I love you. And even after sharing those, you gifted me with something I treasure above all, your love. I don’t know how to guide you into seeing that there is nothing you must do or be or give for others to understand irrevocably having you in our lives is worthwhile. Again, specifically,
me
for I have you in ways others don’t. I have your heart.”

“Is that enough?” she asked, and at her question, Apollo fought back the searing sensation that burned through his chest.

And that sensation made his tone harsh when he declared, “Would that I had the time to find the other me, to locate your father, to take my time in ways they would most assuredly not enjoy to communicate
precisely
how I feel that they have given you what they gave you that you’d ever think to utter such a question.”

She stared at him.

Then she said, “I take it that’s enough.”

“It bloody is,” he bit out.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Now, you have one second to come to me. If you don’t—”

He didn’t finish.

She took a step to him.

Then she took another.

That was the last simple step she took.

The rest of the way, she ran.

His body rocked back when hers hit his. But when it did, he locked his arms around her, hers curved around his shoulders and she shoved her face in his neck.

“I was rather hoping once you ceased standing across the bloody room and came to where you belonged, you’d press your mouth somewhere else,” he muttered irritably.

Her body shook in his arms for several seconds before her laughter became audible.

Still laughing, she pulled her face out of his neck, rolled up on her toes and pressed her closed lips hard against his.

That was better.

It didn’t remain that way for she almost instantly pulled away.

“Does that work?” she asked, her eyes still bright with unshed tears but those tears were going nowhere. He knew this because behind the wet was the light of amusement.

He missed that light.

And he was immensely pleased to have it back.

“Barely,” he drawled in answer.

The amusement in her eyes flared then slowly died but only so the skin around her mouth could soften as her eyes roamed his face.

They found his and his breath stuck in his throat at what he saw as she whispered, “So this is what it feels like not to be broken.”

Bloody hell.

His arms around her convulsed but for the life of him, he couldn’t get his mouth to move in answer.

She didn’t need it.

She had something else to say.

And that was, “Love you, Lo.”

Suddenly, Apollo was done talking.

So he stopped them doing it.

But how he did that, he used his mouth.

And in return, his Maddie used hers.

* * * * *

The room dark, the weight of Maddie’s soft warm naked body resting on him, her knees high at his sides, her forehead in his throat, her fingers trailing lazily along his shoulder, when he thought she was near sleep and was looking forward to the same with his dove held close, he felt her move.

No.

He felt her shake.

“Madeleine?”

She started shaking more.

His arms, already around her, tightened as he lifted his head in an attempt to peer at her through the dark. This attempt failed. All he could see were the poppy highlights in her auburn hair sparkling in the firelight.

“Maddie,” he said more sharply.

She tilted her head and shoved her face in the side of his neck, her body shaking harder.

He thought she was weeping and could not imagine why when a delicate snort filled the room and she shook even harder.

That snort was not from weeping.

It was from laughing.

He rolled her to her back, mostly covering her, and lifted his head to look down at her just as her laughter became audible.

She clutched at him as it did, giggling uncontrollably.

“What is funny?” he demanded to know.

She kept laughing, and also shaking, and further snorting, but she didn’t speak

“Madeleine,”—he gave her a squeeze—“what is funny?”

She pulled her face out of his neck and, still laughing, stammered, “I…you…I was…”

Then she shoved her face back into his neck, clutched him tighter, and burst into renewed laughter.

He waited.

This took some time.

Finally, her laughter began to wane and he said, “Now, would you please share your amusement?”

She dropped her head to the bed, but did this still holding onto him, and found his eyes in the dark.

“You know,” she began, “since practically the minute this started between us, I felt shit because of all the things you were giving me.”

He found this alarming but had no chance to remark on it.

She lifted her head slightly from the pillow and slid her hand to his jaw.

“I like nice things, Apollo.”

She said this like it was an admission when he knew not one soul who didn’t.

Thus he replied, “I do as well, Madeleine. Everyone does.”

He felt her body stiffen slightly under his and he knew that thought had not occurred to her.

When she said nothing, he prompted, “And this caused your hilarity?”

“No. I mean, yes…I mean, not entirely. Why I was laughing is that you were giving me so much. Nice clothes. A lovely home. Friends.” She paused, sweeping his lower lip with her thumb, before she whispered, “Élan.
You.
”

He felt his gut warm but she was not finished.

“And now I get that that’s how it is, if people care about each other. There are lots of ways to give.”

His voice was gruff when he agreed, “There are.”

She slid her hand back into his hair in order to pull his face closer to hers as she continued to explain. “Why I was laughing, sweetheart, is that today, you gave me something else.”

“And what I gave you was funny?” he inquired.

“Yes,” she replied.

“And what was that?”

He felt her body soften under his as she tensed her hand at his head and brought him ever nearer.

And her voice was teasing, yet husky, when she answered, “Oh, nothing big. Not like a really nice cloak or a kickass dress.” Her voice dipped low. “Just your love and, well…
me.
”

The warmth in his gut increased as he slid his hand up her side and queried, “You?”

She nodded. “You gave me me. All those things I felt guilty for and your grand finale was falling in love with me and giving me back
me
.”

His gut still warm, the area around his heart now warming, he continued to slide his hand up and in, over her chest to her throat until he had it at her jaw.

“I’ll warn you, my dove, that was hardly my grand finale.”

She turned her head so she could kiss the palm of his hand and the warmth inside intensified as she righted her head and whispered, “I had a feeling.”

The moment she finished uttering the words, she lifted her head and pressed her mouth to his.

Apollo slanted his head and took what she offered.

Then he gave her more.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Happy?

I collapsed on the somewhat dingy, overstuffed couch by the fire and muttered, “This world needs at least trains.”

I heard Circe and Finnie’s quiet chuckles as I gratefully stretched my legs out in front of me.

“You’ll get used to it,” Finnie said, and I looked to her.

“Easy for you to say,” I returned on a smile. “You spend most of your time on a galleon having adventures on the high seas. Who cares if a galleon goes fast? You’re having adventures on the high seas.”

“I’ve sat often enough in a sleigh to get you,” she replied.

I figured she did so I said nothing.

“Tomorrow, we’ll make Fyngaard and the Winter Palace and we won’t see a sleigh for, oh, I don’t know, at least three days,” Finnie went on.

“It isn’t much,” I mumbled. “But it’s something.”

“You also get to meet Cora and Tor,” Circe added. “Lahn told me they’re already there, Valentine with them, casting enchantments or…whatever.”

At least there was meeting Cora (the real one) and Tor to look forward to.

“The dream team unites,” I murmured.

Circe grinned at me before she grinned at Finnie.

At this point, Meeta collapsed on the couch beside me (but she did it far more elegantly than I did, I was certain).

Watching her do it, it occurred to me that Meeta had been within spitting distance of me any time she could since we left Karsvall.

Then again, she was Spock to my Kirk. That was where she was supposed to be.

Not to mention, the last time we took a road trip, things got extreme.

Once settled, she muttered, “If I sit my arse in another one of those contraptions and glide through the frost that settles in the bones never again in my life, I will be content.”

At her words, I burst out laughing.

Obviously, we were on our way to Fyngaard to attend the Bitter Gales. All of us. Apollo’s men. Frey’s men. And Lahn’s men. The only ones who weren’t there were Lavinia and Valentine. They were off on unexplained magical errands seeing to the safety of two continents.

The good news about this was that I got to wear another awesome gown and attend a ball where intrigue was afoot (and the gown I’d been fitted for for the Bitter Gales was not just awesome, it was
awesome
).

The bad news about this was that Fyngaard was a two week’s ride away from Karsvall and I was d-o-n-e
done
with sleigh rides.