Fantasyland: Broken Dove - Part 51
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Part 51

"Calm, dove," he said softly. "Do you think I or these men who are friends to my family think anything is unseemly about you being spirited or moving...again...to protect my children?"

Hmm.

Probably not.

I decided not to respond.

Apollo knew what my non-response meant and turned into me so we were standing front to front.

"Now, you're here and there's no reason for you to go back. Take your time, tour my home. The children are at their studies so you won't see them. I'll meet you before and take you to them. We'll sit and talk in order that you can get to know them a little better before we dine."

I was seeing the error of my ways (or errors, plural) in engaging on my skulking mission with Loretta and Meeta, but it was too late. We had an audience, an audience that was watching and not moving, and I couldn't have the conversation I needed to have with Apollo right then. And I could tell by the look in his eyes that Apollo very much wanted me to stay, tour his home and meet him before he took me to dine with his kids.

And I very much wanted Apollo to have whatever he wanted.

s.h.i.t.

"Okay," I told him. "I'll tour your house. From the size of it, that should take me about seven hours, though. So if I get lost, send a search party."

His lips twitched before he leaned into me and used them to kiss my nose.

He moved back, caught my eyes and murmured, "Thank you, poppy."

I nodded, pulled in a deep breath and turned to the men. "It was lovely meeting you, after, of course,"-I looked to Quincy-"I attacked you."

"And you," Quincy replied, "after, of course, you attacked me."

He really was funny and under all that rough, kind of cute.

Unfortunately I wasn't in the mood to laugh or appreciate his cuteness.

But I did give him a smile.

Apollo let me go but put a hand to the small of my back and gave me a gentle shove toward the house, murmuring, "Go, Maddie."

I went, trying to be game and turning as I did to give them a small wave.

I got no waves back. Instead I got a chin lift from Balthazar (who was also cute under all that rough), a grin from Quincy and a wink from Apollo who added a grin.

The wink was sweet.

And hot.

On that thought, I moved quickly to the house and disappeared inside feeling like a dork but thinking something good had come of that fiasco.

I had met the kids. I'd even spoken to them. Okay, so I'd also acted like an idiot around them.

But the hard part was done.

And now I could move on.

So maybe I wasn't so bad at this Captain Kirk stuff.

Though, I figured that still remained to be seen.

I stood at the ma.s.sive picture window that rose two stories. A window that was one of twin windows on either side of a tall grand fireplace, its mantel of chocolate marble veined in cream, silver, gold and jade sweeping into the high ceiling.

I was looking out into the back garden, thinking.

Not surprisingly, Apollo's home was amazing. Far grander but no less warm and welcoming than the dower house, though also far more masculine.

It took ages for me to tour it, what with it having a formal sitting room, a formal drawing room, a ma.s.sive library, a formal dining room (with a long table that seated twenty-six, yes, twenty-six), a morning room, an informal sitting room and dining room, as well as an octagon shaped conservatory off the informal sitting room.

There were kitchens, too, but I didn't go there because I was avoiding people (for obvious reasons).

Further, there was a room that looked kind of like it was a billiards room but the table was much bigger and some of the holes led to shoots that expelled the ball back onto the table.

There was also a closed door which I took to be Apollo's study.

And last, there was the sunken great room that was the showstopper of the house. It was huge, its beamed ceilings vaulted, you walked in the front door over polished dark wood floors with fabulous rugs and that was what you saw before you. That fireplace. Those tall arched windows. That ceiling. And that room sunken into the floor, holding a vast array of comfy, deep-seated, supple leather couches arranged in a way that invited sinking into them with good company and a bottle of wine and wiling away hours.

The great room was the bomb. I'd never seen its like and probably never would again. Not even in this fantastical world. That was just how awesome it was.

During my tour, I also discovered the second floor (which had a cut out in the middle to afford the great room it's tall ceilings) was bedrooms, the third floor a ballroom (a ballroom that ran the length of the ma.s.sive house!) but the floor above I didn't spend much time in because it looked like storage and servants' quarters. Not to mention, I could hear the kids down the hall, likely conversing with their tutor.

It took me two hours to explore it all and not just because there was a lot of it but there was a lot to it. Portraits, objects d'art, rugs, tapestries, even the way the furniture was made and upholstered took my attention.

It was not a surprise with all his money that Apollo had a beautiful home. It also wasn't a surprise that it was comfortable and inviting.

What was a surprise was that it was so much of the latter. He was the only member of aristocracy I knew in that world (or my own). But even as huge as his house was, it was not imposing.

It was a home.

And I loved that.

This was what I was thinking when I heard boots on floor.

I turned from the window to see Apollo moving my way.

Burgundy turtleneck, brown breeches, his shined yet scuffed boots, and hair that was unusually swept neatly back from his face making me wonder if I liked it disheveled more than I liked it groomed.

"Hey," I called to get my mind off his fantastic hair (and, to be honest, his breeches).

He smiled but didn't speak until he made it to me, curled his arms loosely around me and I'd put my hands to his chest.

Then his deep voice rumbled, "Hey."

That wasn't a word he'd ever used. It was a my world word. And something about him using it made my heart sigh.

To get my mind off that, I shared, "I like your house."

His warm eyes got warmer and he gathered me closer but he kind of freaked me out when he did this at the same time he asked, "I would a.s.sume with the other me's nefarious dealings, he could provide you with a grand home."

"You would, uh...a.s.sume correctly," I confirmed hesitantly.

"Is mine grander?" he queried.

At that, I got it.

It was Apollo wanting to give me better.

So I smiled and leaned into him. "Yeah, by, like, a lot."

He smiled back, pulled me closer and murmured, "This pleases me."

I felt all gushy because Apollo was pleased and I liked it when he was pleased.

d.a.m.n, I was fading fast. Fading into this world. Fading into him.

And I didn't mind. Not even a little bit.

It was the fact I didn't mind that freaked me.

That was, I didn't mind until he announced, "As my home is agreeable to you, I'll charge Loretta and Meeta with packing your things and we'll move you here tomorrow morning."

I forgot all about fading and blinked.

"What?"

"Tomorrow, we shall move you here. It's not far to get to you, my dove, but it'll be far better to take dinner with you here and go to bed with you, also here, which means I'll wake here as well."

Um...

Move in with him.

Tomorrow?

Was he nuts?

"Uh, Apollo, by tomorrow I will twice have done something crazy in front of your kids and once, hopefully, acted like a sane person though a dinner with them. That's hardly time to move me in."

"You will have met them. You will be getting to know them. Thus there will no longer be reasons for you to avoid them. You like my home. I see no purpose in us continuing our current arrangement."

"It's too soon," I told him, by a miracle succeeding in not letting my voice rise in panic.

"Too soon?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

"Yes. Too soon for them. Too soon for you and me."

"Maddie, how is it too soon?"

Yep. He was perplexed. And I was perplexed at how he could be.

I leaned back in his arms. "I've only"-I lifted my hands and did air quotation marks-"known you for a week. A week is way too soon to live together."

"And how are we not living together now?" he asked. "We dine together. We go to bed together. We wake together."

Alas, this was a good point.

Luckily, I also had a good point.

"What about the kids?"

"What about them?" he asked and I blinked again.

"Apollo, you can't seriously be suggesting I move in with two kids who I've said half a dozen words to."

"No, I'm suggesting you move in tomorrow morning when hopefully through dinner you've said much more."

I could tell he was getting impatient because his tone was sliding along the edge of sarcastic.

So I lowered my voice to one I thought would calm him when I explained, "It's way too soon for the children. Honey," I hesitated then reminded him of something I knew I didn't have to remind him of, "I look like their mother."

"elan doesn't remember her mother," he replied instantly. "And Christophe is an Ulfr male. This means that he may not show it, but he feels deeply. His friend shared with him what you did to avenge him and he admires this. I have shared with him the loss you suffered and he sympathizes as he has suffered his own. Therefore, he's keen to get to know you."

Apollo kept talking even though halfway through what he said I knew my mouth had dropped open and my eyes got big.

When he was done speaking, I asked, "He knows I stabbed a man?"

"Maddie, as you yourself have discovered, our world is quite different than yours and he's a boy who wishes to grow up and be a soldier like his father. These things don't upset him like they do you. He does indeed know you stabbed a man. He also admires it."

That I could let slide. Boys in my world would probably think the same thing.

Apollo wasn't done.

"But in knowing about the children you lost, dove, he respects it."

That I couldn't let slide.

"How could you tell him that?" I whispered.

Apollo's brows shot together. "And why would I not?"

"Because it's mine."

His brow cleared and he tried to gather me closer but when I tightened my body and leaned away, he gave up and just brought his face closer.