Broken Dove

by Kristen Ashley

  “Lord Apollo.”

  “Cristiana,” he returned. “Where’s Maddie?”

  She turned her attention back to her knitting, saying, “Sitting room.”

  Apollo began to move that way before he stopped and looked back at the woman.

  “Don’t you have a husband to look after?”

  Her lips quirked as her eyes came back to him. “I’d hope, by this time and with his age, he’s able to look after himself.” Sharpness entered her gaze when she finished, “I also have a girl to look after.”

  Her loyalty to Madeleine was welcome.

  Her inference was not.

  He said nothing.

  He just dipped his chin and moved from the room.

  He found Cristiana was correct. Maddie was in the sitting room, and he had a sense of foreboding when he saw her not reclining on the sofa reading, or chatting with Loretta and Meeta, but at the window. She’d pulled a curtain slightly back and was staring out into the night, her expression unreadable.

  He’d seen her like that before, the night Franka Drakkar had said words that tore into her soul.

  He had hoped their earlier discussion had given her much to think on that would prove Franka’s words for what they were: intentionally malicious and utterly untrue.

  It would appear it hadn’t.

  “I hope, my dove, that Hans and Loretta aren’t out in this chill,” he quipped as he entered the room and her head whipped his way. “And if they are, I would hope Hans is keeping her warm. But if he is, I would guess it’s in a way that you should not be witnessing.”

  “They’re not out there,” she told him and he stopped advancing to her, this placing him in the center of the room.

  “Then what are you looking at, poppy?”

  “I…” She looked to the window before she dropped the curtain and turned to him. “Nothing. I was thinking. I don’t know why I do that standing at a draughty window, but I guess it’s because it seems so serene out there. It helps me order my thoughts.” She shrugged. “There aren’t a lot of windows you can look out of in my world and witness complete stillness.”

  “The other world,” he corrected.

  “What?” she asked.

  “This is your world, Maddie. It’s the other world that has limited stillness.”

  Her teeth came out to worry her lip.

  Apollo didn’t like that either but he continued to give her distance and asked quietly, “What were you thinking on, Maddie?”

  “How’s Chris?” she asked immediately in return.

  If he was told to guess what filled her thoughts that would be it.

  “We talked,” he answered. “Considering the subject matter, there was not much I could share. This frustrates him for he’s nearly nine but he thinks he’s thirty-nine. However, we ended our talk by battling with wooden swords in the snow. So I think, for now, he’s fine.”

  “You battled?” she asked, eyes wide.

  “It’s play,” he explained. “Élan enjoys tea parties. Chris enjoys swordplay.”

  “Oh,” she whispered, but said no more.

  Therefore, he pressed, “Was Chris the only thing on your mind?”

  “Not exactly,” she replied.

  He felt his face go soft when he went on. “And what else was on your mind?”

  “Well,” she began and threw out a hand. “The subject matter.”

  “My father, my mother and Lady Ulfr,” he stated.

  She nodded and Apollo didn’t delay in sharing what she clearly wished to know.

  “As still happens today, my father’s marriage was arranged. He could have opposed it, but he did not. This was because, although she came from a much lesser House, his intended held great beauty.”

  She nodded again as she leaned her weight into a hand on the back of the sofa, settling in for his story.

  He didn’t like this for it meant she settled in away from him.

  But he sensed she needed it, so he gave it to her and carried on.

  “She was also a kind woman, if a quiet one. Unfortunately, it became clear early in their marriage that she could not provide him an heir. When this happens, the Head of a House can accept it and the next in line will inherit his role. My father could not know this for Achilles was born after me, but we know now that Achilles, who would have been the next in line, would have made a fine Head for the House of Ulfr. Though, he should have known it for my uncle was as fine a man as Achilles. But even if he could know it, the man he was, Father would still have made the decision he made. A decision that many Heads made then, before then and even now, should they find their wives unable to provide an heir. They find a surrogate so they can see to that task personally.”

  He knew this information shocked her by the expression on her face.

  But all she said was, “Okay.”

  “My mother, however, was no surrogate,” he went on. “She too, had great beauty and my father held some affection for her. Thus, he installed her in this house, and if lore is true, fully enjoyed her being here.”

  He witnessed her flinch but even so, he continued.

  “She had me. As she was no surrogate arranged to provide an heir, although I believe she knew her place, she still expected to enjoy raising the son she bore for her lover. This didn’t happen. I was raised in Karsvall with my father and his wife. Although she lived quite close and I visited her regularly, it was not as regular as my mother would have liked. This caused her to protect against another pregnancy. Time passed and I was too young to know what occurred in that time or how those involved felt about it. I just know that many years after she had me, my father sent my mother away and I was raised fully here in Karsvall with him and his wife, seeing my mother only during short visits my father would allow.”

  “That’s awful,” she whispered, the tone she said those words stating clear she felt it was exactly that.

  “It is, yet it isn’t,” he replied. “I know the gossip but those who speak it don’t know either how those involved felt about what was happening. I only know that Patience Ulfr was a good woman who may not have showered me with adoration, but that simply wasn’t her nature. She was thoughtful. She was kind. But she was sad. Perhaps sad her marriage became what it became for I cannot know how they were before I came into this world, but they were very distant in the time I spent with them. Perhaps she was sad because I was not hers and she wished her own child. Perhaps sadness was simply part of her disposition. I cannot know. I never asked but even if I did, she was not the kind of woman to tell. Though, regardless of her consistent sadness, she never made me suffer for it.”

  “And your mother?”

  “Once I became old enough to decide how I would spend my time, I saw her far more frequently. After my father passed and Lady Patience returned to her own House, I moved my mother back to this one. She left this world a year after Ilsa died.”

  When he stopped speaking, she studied him and said nothing.

  He allowed this for some time before he stopped doing so.

  “Now that I’ve shared that, my dove, may I ask why you’re so far away?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  She asked her own question.

  “Is that why you seem to have an issue with me being in this house?”

  “It is,” he confirmed. “I have many good memories of the times I shared with my mother in this house, both before my father died and after she returned. But you are not her. I don’t like you here not only because it reminds me of who she was to my father but also it reminds those around us of the same. And I do not want them to think of you in that way for you are not that to me. You are far more.”

  He watched her features soften as she noted, “But now, with the way Chris is feeling, I can’t move.”

  “Alas, you cannot. However, you were right those weeks ago. For him, you should remain here until he’s comfortable with you being there.”

  She pressed her lips together, looking uncertain for a moment, before she a
sked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

  “You must agree that we had more important things to discuss,” he remarked and her brows shot up.

  “More important than that?” she queried.

  “Absolutely,” he returned.

  “But…I mean…” She shook her head as if clearing it. “Apollo, your mother, your father, growing up like that, what you must have felt, there really isn’t much that’s more important than that.”

  “There is,” he retorted. “You.”

  The instant his last word passed his lips, he watched her entire body sway back as her lips parted.

  Then he watched her eyes get bright.

  And at that, he was done.

  So he inquired, “Now, will you come to me or will I be going to you?”

  She again didn’t answer him.

  She whispered, “I should have shared.”

  “What?” he asked.

  She held his eyes, hers still bright, and repeated, “I should have shared.”

  “Poppy—”

  She interrupted him to explain. “I should have shared that what that woman said bothered me so much.”

  “You should have,” he agreed gently.

  “I’m not what she said I was,” she stated.

  “No.” His agreement to that was far less gentle. “You aren’t.”

  He watched her draw in a deep breath before she admitted, “I still don’t know what I am.”

  “To that, what I must ask, my dove, is why you need to be anything but you?”

  She blinked as if supremely perplexed by his comment.

  “Sorry?”

  “You are amusing. You are spirited. You are intelligent, loyal and brave. And you’ve led a life where lesser women, women such as your own mother, would long since have admitted defeat. But you never did. Can you not be content with all that is you, knowing there is so much of it, and enjoy what those around can offer you in return? Most specifically me, who simply wants you to leave the life you led behind, as well as the demons it left you with, and have one where I can make you happy.”

  And again she did not answer.

  She looked to the seat of the sofa.

  But he saw the tear slide from her eye and glide down her cheek.

  He felt the sight of that lone tear pierce his heart.

  “Madeleine, please come to me,” he whispered and she turned her eyes back to him.

  “You give me a lot,” she whispered back.

  “I do. But that scale is not unbalanced.”

  “I—”

  “Maddie, please cease listening and hear me. I shared earlier the gifts you’ve bestowed on me, these being the reasons why I love you. And even after sharing those, you gifted me with something I treasure above all, your love. I don’t know how to guide you into seeing that there is nothing you must do or be or give for others to understand irrevocably having you in our lives is worthwhile. Again, specifically, me for I have you in ways others don’t. I have your heart.”

  “Is that enough?” she asked, and at her question, Apollo fought back the searing sensation that burned through his chest.

  And that sensation made his tone harsh when he declared, “Would that I had the time to find the other me, to locate your father, to take my time in ways they would most assuredly not enjoy to communicate precisely how I feel that they have given you what they gave you that you’d ever think to utter such a question.”

  She stared at him.

  Then she said, “I take it that’s enough.”

  “It bloody is,” he bit out.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Now, you have one second to come to me. If you don’t—”

  He didn’t finish.

  She took a step to him.

  Then she took another.

  That was the last simple step she took.

  The rest of the way, she ran.

  His body rocked back when hers hit his. But when it did, he locked his arms around her, hers curved around his shoulders and she shoved her face in his neck.

  “I was rather hoping once you ceased standing across the bloody room and came to where you belonged, you’d press your mouth somewhere else,” he muttered irritably.

  Her body shook in his arms for several seconds before her laughter became audible.

  Still laughing, she pulled her face out of his neck, rolled up on her toes and pressed her closed lips hard against his.

  That was better.

  It didn’t remain that way for she almost instantly pulled away.

  “Does that work?” she asked, her eyes still bright with unshed tears but those tears were going nowhere. He knew this because behind the wet was the light of amusement.

  He missed that light.

  And he was immensely pleased to have it back.

  “Barely,” he drawled in answer.

  The amusement in her eyes flared then slowly died but only so the skin around her mouth could soften as her eyes roamed his face.

  They found his and his breath stuck in his throat at what he saw as she whispered, “So this is what it feels like not to be broken.”

  Bloody hell.

  His arms around her convulsed but for the life of him, he couldn’t get his mouth to move in answer.

  She didn’t need it.

  She had something else to say.

  And that was, “Love you, Lo.”

  Suddenly, Apollo was done talking.

  So he stopped them doing it.

  But how he did that, he used his mouth.

  And in return, his Maddie used hers.

  * * * * *

  The room dark, the weight of Maddie’s soft warm naked body resting on him, her knees high at his sides, her forehead in his throat, her fingers trailing lazily along his shoulder, when he thought she was near sleep and was looking forward to the same with his dove held close, he felt her move.

  No.

  He felt her shake.

  “Madeleine?”

  She started shaking more.

  His arms, already around her, tightened as he lifted his head in an attempt to peer at her through the dark. This attempt failed. All he could see were the poppy highlights in her auburn hair sparkling in the firelight.

  “Maddie,” he said more sharply.

  She tilted her head and shoved her face in the side of his neck, her body shaking harder.

  He thought she was weeping and could not imagine why when a delicate snort filled the room and she shook even harder.

  That snort was not from weeping.

  It was from laughing.

  He rolled her to her back, mostly covering her, and lifted his head to look down at her just as her laughter became audible.

  She clutched at him as it did, giggling uncontrollably.

  “What is funny?” he demanded to know.

  She kept laughing, and also shaking, and further snorting, but she didn’t speak

  “Madeleine,”—he gave her a squeeze—“what is funny?”

  She pulled her face out of his neck and, still laughing, stammered, “I…you…I was…”

  Then she shoved her face back into his neck, clutched him tighter, and burst into renewed laughter.

  He waited.

  This took some time.

  Finally, her laughter began to wane and he said, “Now, would you please share your amusement?”

  She dropped her head to the bed, but did this still holding onto him, and found his eyes in the dark.

  “You know,” she began, “since practically the minute this started between us, I felt shit because of all the things you were giving me.”

  He found this alarming but had no chance to remark on it.

  She lifted her head slightly from the pillow and slid her hand to his jaw.

  “I like nice things, Apollo.”

  She said this like it was an admission when he knew not one soul who didn’t.

  Thus he replied, “I do as well, Madeleine. Everyone does.”


  He felt her body stiffen slightly under his and he knew that thought had not occurred to her.

  When she said nothing, he prompted, “And this caused your hilarity?”

  “No. I mean, yes…I mean, not entirely. Why I was laughing is that you were giving me so much. Nice clothes. A lovely home. Friends.” She paused, sweeping his lower lip with her thumb, before she whispered, “Élan. You.”

  He felt his gut warm but she was not finished.

  “And now I get that that’s how it is, if people care about each other. There are lots of ways to give.”

  His voice was gruff when he agreed, “There are.”

  She slid her hand back into his hair in order to pull his face closer to hers as she continued to explain. “Why I was laughing, sweetheart, is that today, you gave me something else.”

  “And what I gave you was funny?” he inquired.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “And what was that?”

  He felt her body soften under his as she tensed her hand at his head and brought him ever nearer.

  And her voice was teasing, yet husky, when she answered, “Oh, nothing big. Not like a really nice cloak or a kickass dress.” Her voice dipped low. “Just your love and, well…me.”

  The warmth in his gut increased as he slid his hand up her side and queried, “You?”

  She nodded. “You gave me me. All those things I felt guilty for and your grand finale was falling in love with me and giving me back me.”

  His gut still warm, the area around his heart now warming, he continued to slide his hand up and in, over her chest to her throat until he had it at her jaw.

  “I’ll warn you, my dove, that was hardly my grand finale.”

  She turned her head so she could kiss the palm of his hand and the warmth inside intensified as she righted her head and whispered, “I had a feeling.”

  The moment she finished uttering the words, she lifted her head and pressed her mouth to his.

  Apollo slanted his head and took what she offered.

  Then he gave her more.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Happy?

  I collapsed on the somewhat dingy, overstuffed couch by the fire and muttered, “This world needs at least trains.”

  I heard Circe and Finnie’s quiet chuckles as I gratefully stretched my legs out in front of me.