Broken Dove
Page 42

“But I’m a selfish, thoughtless, cruel bitch,” she reminded him, and with effort he successfully fought back his chuckle.
After he accomplished that, he stated, “My dove, the more time I spend with you, the more I learn about you and the more I come to understand there’s much to learn. What I have learned is that you are amusing. You are spirited. You can be charming. You can also be disagreeable. You can further be vexing. You’re annoyingly very good during an argument. But that simply means you’re quick-witted, which is not a bad thing, unless one finds themselves in an argument with you.”
She blinked endearingly and he finished.
“What you are not is a selfish, thoughtless or cruel.”
She studied him closely as if his face would tell her the veracity of his words and she must have read it wrong because her eyes again clouded.
“But, Apollo,” she started softly, pain beginning to thread its way back into her voice. “I look like—”
He gave her another squeeze and dipped his face close.
His voice was threaded with steel when he declared. “Ilsa is gone, Madeleine. And you are here. You look like her, indeed. But you are not her.”
“But you said looking at me felt like brands searing into your eyes.”
Bloody hell, she remembered his exact words.
“And that, my dove,” he whispered, “was me being selfish, thoughtless and cruel. But when I spoke those words to you, I genuinely was, and you…” He shook his head. “You had drunk adela tea and were not in control of yourself. That is not selfish, thoughtless or cruel. That is simply what was.”
“Adela tea?” she inquired.
“I’ll explain later,” he said.
Her eyes suddenly narrowed and he nearly smiled.
There she was.
“Did you order it?” she asked.
“Valentine connives,” he answered and her eyes grew huge, and at that, he did smile.
“She was here?” she queried.
“Twice,” he affirmed.
“Twice?” Her voice was pitched high and he felt his smile widen.
“Twice. I’ll explain that later too.”
She held his eyes, the astonishment left hers and dark started seeping in again but through it she asked, her voice now almost timid. “So you don’t hate me?”
He gathered her closer and whispered, “No, my poppy, I don’t hate you.”
The darkness receded and her body started to calm in his hold but she wasn’t done with her interrogation.
“Your poppy?”
His hand still in her hair pulled the tail over her shoulder and up between their faces. Sliding his thumb and finger together through the soft strands until he captured one like he was searching for, he held it and looked back to her.
“The color of poppies,” he said softly and then went on to say openly. “Ilsa did not have poppies in her hair.”
The skin around her mouth grew soft and she asked, “Did she spend much time outside?”
“She was not fond of the out of doors.”
“I am,” she whispered, again it was shyly and this time he knew why.
She was sharing something of herself with him and she was concerned how he’d take her doing it.
He dropped her hair and wrapped both arms around her, again pulling her close.
“This pleases me,” he whispered back.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth and her little white teeth came out to worry her lip.
As elated as he was that this scene was what it was rather than what he feared it would be, with her eyes on his mouth, he knew it had to end and it had to end immediately or they would not be to their sleigh for hours.
Tonight, after they talked, they would take time getting to know each other without adela tea.
Now, unfortunately, they had to be on their way.
“We must be away, my dove,” he reminded her.
She lifted her gaze to his.
“Okeydokey.”
And at that word, Apollo knew all was well and again, he smiled.
Chapter Ten
How He Treasured It
I felt warm and cozy, except my nose, which was cold but there was something tickling it. I also felt motion all around me. Finally, the sun bright against my eyelids slid through my burgeoning consciousness and for a second, things didn’t seem right.
Then I remembered.
I was out in the cold elements of Lunwyn in a sleigh with Apollo.
More precisely, I was in Apollo’s sleigh with Apollo, a huge fur blanket over our laps, wrapped up tight in my cloak (the same one as yesterday; after my emotional upheavals of the morning, I didn’t have it in me to dig out one that matched my outfit better—and by the way, I had four). I was snuggled up to Apollo, my arm resting across his stomach, my cheek to his chest and what was tickling my nose was the fur inside his cloak.
Oh God.
I was snuggled up to Apollo.
Crap.
I didn’t move or open my eyes. Instead, I faked still sleeping.
I did this because I couldn’t face him, not yet. I had to get my shit together before I attempted that.
He’d been cool this morning, actually really sweet and very understanding. I’d spent the time since he left the room torturing myself about what I’d done, but the way he acted, the things he said totally made me feel better.
About that.
But this did not negate the fact that he’d been kind to me (in his way) since I’d gotten there and I’d been a bitch to him.
And it definitely did not negate the fact that last night I’d f**ked his brains out, he’d f**ked my brains out and this all commenced when I threw myself at him.
It was clear this all came about because I drank that tea.
But still.
It was embarrassing.
He, however, seemed not to have a problem with this. Not at all. It was almost like it didn’t happen. Then again, men could often separate life from sex. It happened, you moved on. And maybe some women could too.
But I couldn’t.
And definitely not what we did last night.
God, I burned with humiliation just thinking about it.
I’d had one lover before Pol. And then there was Pol and he was good in bed, actually great. We never had a problem with that. In fact, that was one of the reasons why, in the beginning, I held on to hope. If he could be that generous, and sometimes even sweet and tender in bed, I thought he could, and would, eventually bring that into our everyday lives.
I’d even talked to him about it. Until I did it too often, it started to annoy him, and for obvious reasons I did my best not to annoy Pol. So I quit.
But he took care of me every time, and once, the time I liked to think was when we created our daughter, he took care of me twice in one go.