Broken Dove
Page 16

Jeez.
“This is a good question,” the man who saved me noted and I looked to him.
“I’ve never ridden a horse. Never even been around one, really, until yesterday,” I explained and his eyes widened in immediate shock.
“You jest,” the burnished-haired man drew my attention and he, too, looked shocked.
“We don’t have horses where I’m from. I mean, we do,” I said the last quickly because their shock had turned to what appeared to be alarmed astonishment. “But only rich people have them. Or, if you love horses enough, you sacrifice other things so you can keep them or pay to ride them.”
“The poor walk?” the boy-man asked in disgusted disbelief.
“Well, no,” I answered. “Pretty much everyone has cars.”
The boy-man blinked. The other two narrowed their gazes on me in puzzlement.
I lifted my hands and curled my fingers around a non-existent steering wheel, shifting them side-to-side like I was steering. “Automobiles. With four wheels and an engine. It goes on its own power. It doesn’t need a horse.”
The three of them watched my hands then they lifted their eyes to stare at me.
“You have to see it to understand it,” I muttered, dropping my hands.
The dark-haired one turned to the burnished-haired one and announced, “We cannot be away if madam has injured ribs and doesn’t know how to ride a horse.”
Uh-oh.
This wasn’t good. I was thinking Apollo wouldn’t like that.
So I cried quickly, “Oh no!” I took a step deeper into our huddle and lifted a hand. “Don’t let me delay our departure.”
The dark-haired guy looked down at me. “You winced solely being pulled off the back of a horse,” he reminded me.
I shook my head but said, “Yeah, I did. But I’m good. Really. It’s okay.”
“It is not,” he returned.
“Our progress would be slowed if she rides injured, especially if she can’t handle her own steed,” the burnished-haired guy said and I looked to him.
“I’ll keep up,” I promised.
His blue eyes moved to me. “And break your neck?”
“I’ll try to keep up without doing that,” I offered.
He stared at me a moment then looked at his comrade. “I’ll speak with Derrik. She’ll need lessons and time for her injury to heal. We’ll send word to Apollo we’ll be delayed for two weeks.”
Oh boy.
“Really,” I stated hurriedly. “I’m fine. I can practice horse riding while on our, um…journey.”
This gained me the dark-haired man’s eyes. “On day one, after our ride you’ll be nothing but aches and pains. The next morning, your body will protest at your simplest movement. You cannot take that while injured.”
“How about I give it a try,” I suggested, not wanting to delay because I really didn’t think Apollo would like it. Sure, he wouldn’t get word we’d be late for two months but then he’d have two whole weeks to stew on it and that probably wasn’t a good thing.
I came out of these thoughts when I noticed no one was speaking. They were all staring at me again.
Finally, the dark-haired man offered his big, calloused hand. “I’m Achilles of the House of Ulfr. Cousin to Apollo.”
Yep. I was right. Family.
I took his hand and murmured, “Achilles.”
“I am Draven of the House of Sinclair,” the burnished-haired guy said and I let Achilles go to take Draven’s hand.
“Hey,” I said and his eyes lit with humor.
“I’m Aleksander, of the House of Lazarus,” the boy-man said, grinning at me and offering his hand. I took it and he finished, “Alek.”
“Nice to meet you, Alek,” I said on a squeeze and let him go.
“You’ll walk back, not ride,” Achilles decreed and my gaze went back to him. “We’ll talk tomorrow to see how you feel. And when you’re well enough, Hans will instruct you on riding. He’s our most talented horseman.”
“Really, that’s not—” I started but he moved closer to me. Not by a lot, it wasn’t an aggressive move, it was one designed to get my attention.
And it got my attention.
But the serious look in his eye, a look accompanied by not a small amount of kindness was what really got my attention.
“I have known those who life has taught to keep themselves isolated,” he stated quietly. “It is always folly and never ends well. No matter what experiences we have, we must keep ourselves open to having more. Don’t you agree?”
I pulled in a breath and nodded, because he was right.
“The men are anxious to meet you and it would serve you well to meet them,” he informed me. “We act as your guard as a duty and we very much understand duty. But we do that duty out of allegiance to Apollo and the House of Ulfr.” He held my eyes but dipped his face an inch closer to me and his voice got lower when he concluded, “If the men were to meet you, madam, and you were to allow them to get to know you, I have no doubt they would act as your guard for much different reasons.”
“The Ilsa of your world,” I whispered, totally getting him.
“No, the madam who puts herself on the back of a horse while injured, determined to learn something new to her world. And the woman who takes a hand in greeting while looking steadfastly in your eyes, hers hesitant but unwavering. And last, the woman who would do her best to embrace a new world very foreign to her even when circumstances are not in her favor. I know all of this having officially met you moments ago and watching but for two days. What I want to know is what more there is to know.”
Okay, maybe I didn’t totally get him.
And when he was done speaking, I was holding my breath and doing this because tears were stinging my eyes seeing as all he said was so nice.
Since he’d shut up and no one was saying anything, I realized it was up to me to break the silence.
“I was having a pity party,” I shared. “I thought I’d gotten over it but maybe I was hanging onto some of it.”
While I was talking, he’d moved slightly back and his brows had drawn together.
When I stopped talking, he asked, “A pity what?”
“A pity party,” I replied. “I was feeling sorry for myself and being self-indulgent. It’s a weakness.”
“It’s my experience that a weakness understood is no weakness,” Draven put in at this point and I looked to him. “If you know you have it, even if you can’t control it, you can make allowances for it. It is those who ignore or don’t understand their weaknesses who are wasted by them.”