Broken Dove
Page 69

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.
Tonight, though, he’d sent Alek with the message he’d be late and that I should eat and, if he was very late, go to bed without him.
This I had been preparing to do when I’d heard him hit the room five minutes ago and call, “Maddie!”