Broken Dove
Page 86

He was picking up a quill (yes, a quill, I’d learned months ago they didn’t do ballpoints in this world) and opening a pot of ink when I got my shit together.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m being selfish. You need to go.”
“Quiet, Madeleine,” he muttered, scratching his quill on the paper.
I got quiet and watched. Back to the inkpot and to the paper. Ink. Paper. Another line. More ink. Another line.
I was so weirdly enthralled with this, caught up in my gloom, I jumped when a young boy came rushing into the room.
He looked at me, jerked his head down and up, then looked at Apollo.
“Sir?”
“A moment, Nathaniel,” Apollo replied and kept scratching.
The boy and I watched.
Finally, Apollo tossed the quill down, put the lid on the inkpot and grabbed the paper. Straightening away from the desk, he moved around it, eyes to the boy.
“Send someone to the dower house. Have them tell Loretta and Meeta that they need to prepare Lady Ulfr for the journey to the Drakkar seat,” he ordered and I sucked in breath, feeling my eyes getting huge. “Make certain it’s explained to them that Lady Ulfr needs to be equipped to attend a gale. They will also be accompanying her.”
He was folding the paper as he stopped by the boy. Once folded, he handed it to him and kept talking.
“They must make haste. We leave in an hour.”
“Right, sir,” the boy murmured.
“And take that to Achilles,” Apollo went on, dipping his head to the paper.
The boy nodded.
“Go, Nat,” Apollo commanded quietly.
The boy dashed out.
Apollo turned to me just as I forced myself to start breathing again.
And when he did, he said softly, “Come here, Maddie.”
Without delay, walking woodenly, my eyes glued to his, I walked to him. And I was staring in his eyes because they were not blank. His face was not cold. Instead, his gaze was warm on me, his face soft.
I didn’t want to hope.
But with what he said, his face that way, I was hoping.
When I made it close to him, he reached out and curled his fingers around my waist, pulling me closer then curving me into his arms.
“When we return,” he continued in his soft voice, “you will remain at the dower house for as long as you need in order to…” he hesitated and finished, “find yourself.”
Oh my God!
Was this happening?
“However, I would ask that you do this while spending some of your time with me and my children.”
Holy cow.
It was happening.
I nodded and did it quickly.
His arms grew tighter. “Alas, for the next three weeks, I cannot guarantee you will have alone time.”
“I, uh…well, that’s, um…okay,” I stammered and I did that quickly as well.
“We will be traveling with a guard,” he continued and his hold tightened further. “And the children.”
Oh boy.
I was freaking about a variety of things, including that new addition, but I said nothing.
“After what happened, I will not leave them,” he carried on. “I would not have left you but the way things were between us…”
He trailed off and I nodded again, this time that I understood.
One of his hands came up to cup my jaw just as his face dipped very close to mine.
“You must share with me more, poppy,” he urged gently. “And you must do this in order that I can know how your mind works and won’t come to mistaken conclusions just having your words that often cover much and say nothing.”
He was right. So right.
I nodded yet again and whispered, “I’ll try.”
His thumb swept my cheek and his voice was lower, deeper when he went on, still gentle. “I do now understand that it’s difficult for you to speak of these things. So in return, I will try to be more patient.”
God.
God.
He was beautiful, so, so beautiful.
In more ways than one.
I felt tears again sting my eyes.
“I’m sorry I screwed things up.” I was still whispering. “I was just…I’m just—”
“Cease, dove, I know what you were.”
I pulled in a breath and forged on.
“Well, since I’m explaining things, you should also know that in my world, when something happens and there are children involved, like, you know, one of the parents,” I swallowed, “died or there’s a divorce or something, we go a lot more slowly when introducing a new, well…partner to the kids. I understand,” I continued quickly, “that you think differently and they’re your kids so it’s your decision to make. But it was strange to me. Very strange. When we argued, I was thinking of my need for time but I was also thinking that they should have time to get used to me, get to know me, before they had to see me at the dinner table every night. It was…well, I thought it would be kinder to them to allow them an adjustment period. I mean, I’m not a bitch or anything but, you know, for kids who for a long time have had their father all to themselves, introducing them to the woman in his life is a lot for them to take.”
“I have not introduced my children to another…” he paused, his mouth quirking, “partner, so in retrospect, I see this as wise.”
He saw this as wise.
Thank God.
I relaxed in his arms.
He slid his hand down to my neck and gave me a squeeze, saying, “We must learn to talk like this, Maddie.”
Again, he was so right.
And again, I nodded.
That tender look slid into his eyes before he bent his neck to touch his mouth to mine and, I swear, it was crazy, I knew it, but I had to fight back bursting into tears because I missed that look and his touch so…damned…much.
“I do not like to think of your father leaving you to that man when you approached him for aid,” he whispered and I pressed my lips together and inhaled through my nose in a continued effort to fight back the tears. “You will not find such disregard here, my dove. So I urge you, along with discovering yourself, to find a way to get used to that.”
I lifted my hands to the sides of his sweater, curling my fingers in to hold on and forced myself to nod while blinking away the tears that threatened to flood my eyes.
Yes. He was beautiful. In way more ways than one.
He slid his hand back up to my jaw so he could again sweep his thumb across my cheek and moved in to kiss my forehead.
Then he moved back, the pads of his fingers digging in gently, and announced, “Now, we go tell Christophe and Élan you journey with us to Brunskar.”