Fantasyland 04 Broken Dove (18 page)

“Ilsa?” Apollo prompted and I jumped, coming out of my thoughts and looking to him.

“Do you have the name Madeleine in this world?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Then that’s who I’ll be. Madeleine. Maddie,” I declared, and his brows drew slightly together and his gaze grew more intense as I did it.

I knew why.

It was a declaration. Firm. Definite. Inflexible.

It didn’t exactly need to be that strong a declaration.

But it absolutely was.

Once I’d made it, I wanted to cheer. To get up and dance. For some reason, it felt like I’d slithered out of old tired worn-out skin and been born anew and I had so much energy and excitement bubbling inside me, it was hard to keep my seat.

“Madeleine,” he murmured, again capturing my attention, and his rich deep voice smoothing over that beautiful name sent a shiver sliding up my back.

Crap.

Maybe I should have picked Agnes.

On that thought, he surprised me by remarking, “You’ve noted they knew her here.”

I rolled my lips together and nodded.

“She was here often. I’ve also been to this village more than once over the years,” he continued and that confused me.

It confused me because it inferred she had been here without him.

Pol never let me go anywhere without him.

Apollo was not Pol, but it wasn’t easy getting places here and it wasn’t like this village was around the corner and she could just hop in a sleigh, come here for tea and be back for dinner.

Since he seemed okay talking about her, I ventured, “Did she come from around here?”

“We lived most of the year at Karsvall.”

That didn’t un-confuse me.

“Are you saying she’d travel without you?”

“Frequently,” he replied, and that surprised me.

He looked away, took a sip from his wine and again contemplated his boots but he kept talking.

“I’ve many enterprises, and due to them, travel widely. Sometimes, she would come with me. Sometimes, she’d stay here. Usually, when she stayed here, it was because there was someone in need of her care. And she would travel from Karsvall somewhat broadly in order to do that, a days’ ride away. Even three days’ ride.”

Curiosity at his words pushed me to ask, “Someone in her care?”

He again looked at me. “She was a physician.”

Oh boy.

Dear, departed, pined for, beloved, fabulous Ilsa was a doctor in this world.

I had a Bachelor of Arts degree with a major in medieval history. My last job was as a salesperson in the handbag and accessories department of an exclusive department store. Other than that, I hadn’t worked, or done much of anything, for nearly twelve years.

I felt something lodge in my throat and forced around it, “That’s…um, impressive.”

He looked back to his boots and murmured, “She was, indeed, that.”

I took a sip of wine and looked anywhere but him, not liking what I was feeling. Also not entirely understanding it, but definitely knowing I didn’t like it. It wasn’t pain, but it still felt like an ache.

He seemed unwilling to move in order to, say, go back to the hotel and put me out of the misery of this conversation.

And I felt uncomfortable sitting there staring at the floor so I asked conversationally, “Is it usual for a woman in this world to be a doctor?”

“No,” he told his boots. “A midwife, yes. An herbalist. A plant healer. Even an apothecary. But a physician, no.”

I nodded even if he wasn’t looking at me.

He said nothing.

“Uh…just saying, I thought you mentioned Ulfr women didn’t work,” I noted.

“I’ll amend that,” he again told his boots. “She worked, and she was dedicated to her work, but she didn’t get paid.”

A doctor who didn’t seek payment?

I thought it but I didn’t ask it.

He didn’t share further.

I took another sip of my wine, thinking of Ilsa gallivanting across the snow, doing good deeds as I leaned back in my chair and tried not to focus on anyone giving me strange looks, on Apollo, on
anything
(including Ilsa doing good deeds) as I worried my lip.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore so I looked back to him and saw his profile had set back to broody.

He was thinking of his dear, departed, pined for, beloved, fabulous,
benevolent
Ilsa.

Shit, maybe I should have sucked it up and gone to spend time with his kids.

Pulling it together, I decided a change of subject was in order.

To do that, I asked, “What are your enterprises?”

“Oil,” he answered his boots immediately, then turned his head and looked at me. “The House of Ulfr owns vast tracks of land. Under some of it, oil was found. The oil used in lamps.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, thinking that if this was the case, although it might not be as highly sought after in his world as in mine, it still was probably still highly sought after.

No wonder he seemed loaded.

“And other land has gas,” he carried on.

Yes, loaded.

He continued. “We’re behind Fleuridia in equipping buildings and homes with gas lights and heat, but we’re quickly catching up. The House of Ulfr also owns controlling interest in the largest firm that’s doing that work.”

Totally loaded.

“We have electricity in my world,” I offered.

He nodded and looked away, saying, “Yes. Finnie explained this to me. It’s an intriguing concept and after we fought to unite Lunwyn with Middleland, I set researchers on harnessing it.”

“That was smart,” I muttered lamely.

I’d already learned from the guys of the recent war in which Apollo and all his men fought to reunite the countries of Lunwyn and Middleland that had been split by a now-deceased king in order to give his twin sons land to rule.

Luckily, their side won.

“I also own a mine here that produces Sjofn ice diamonds as well as import jewels from Korwahk, have them cut and sell them to jewelers throughout the Northlands,” Apollo informed me. “Further, the House of Ulfr owns a variety of farms that raise mink, ermine, sable, rabbit, cattle, and the like. They sell the meat and tan the hides to provide fur and leather to clothiers.”

He stopped talking, so I observed, “With all that going on, you must be very busy.”

“I am,” he agreed.

“So, I guess me and malevolent witches are really kind of a pain in your ass,” I noted, trying to inject a badly needed dose of humor into the conversation.

I swiftly got his eyes and they weren’t flashing with amusement.

“Malevolent witches, yes. You, no. Not when you’re being as you are now. When you’re being churlish, yes.”

Suddenly, I felt like a bitch and it didn’t feel good.

“Apollo—”

Before I could say more (not that I had any clue what to say), he straightened in his chair, turned to me but tipped his head to the table.

“You’re finished?”

“Yes,” I said softly.

“Then we’re away to bed.”

Away to bed.

Crap.

He stood and reached toward the chair that held our capes.

I stood as well, starting, “Maybe we should—”

His eyes came to mine as he moved around the table holding my cape. “I’ll escort you to the hotel and give you time to prepare for bed. I’ll join you after you’ve had time to settle.”

All right then.

That sounded like a plan.

“Okeydokey,” I whispered and again watched his eyes flash, this one I’d not seen before.

I didn’t get a chance to get a lock on it before he was behind me and settling my cape on my shoulders.

I pushed my hands through the slits as he buckled on his cloak and I waited as he threw some coins on the table.

He then offered his arm and I took it. Like Derrik, he didn’t hesitate to pull me closer, tucking his arm with my hand to his side. Unlike Derrik, he did this in a perfunctory way, even if he did curl his warm fingers over mine.

Then we were “away” into the night on the swept-of-snow wooden walkways that served as sidewalks in this village.

That would be, away to bed.

Again.

Crap.

Chapter Eight

No Recriminations

“I’ll…uh, see you in a bit,” I said at the door to Apollo, who had unlocked it and threw it open, sticking his head in to take a cursory look around, but he did this and was now standing at its side.

“You will,” he replied, pocketing the key. “Lock up behind you.”

I nodded then watched as he turned and strode away.

He was out of sight down the stairs before I went into the room, closed the door and locked it behind me.

“Okay, what the fuck is the matter with me?” I asked the empty room.

Of course, I received no answer.

What I did was notice that the fire was dancing merrily in its grate, a large iron grid sitting in front of it with lips that curled into the stone so no sparks would fly out. There were big stacks of split logs, plenty of fuel for his lordship to keep the fire burning all night and not bother calling a servant to do it for him.

I also noticed that our trunks had been hauled up which meant I had my nightgown.

I didn’t go to the nightgown.

I went to the nightstand closest to me, opened the drawer and found what I always found when at an inn in Lunwyn or Hawkvale. A supply of rudimentary matches.

I lit the lamp by the bed then moved to the opposite side and lit that one as well.

I moved to the fire, carefully removed the grid, tossed the used matchsticks in, fed it more logs and returned the grid.

I stood back and stared at it.

I had no idea how long Apollo would give me to get changed so I knew I should get a move on.

But as I stared into the flames, I didn’t get a move on.

Instead, my mind was filled with other things and one of those other things was the fact that I kind of forgot why I was so pissed at him.

He’d saved me from Pol.

His reasons for doing this were because the wife he obviously adored had died and he wanted her back. Clearly being a man of action, when he found the impossible—that there was something he could do about that—he’d done something about it. This was slightly unbalanced, but I could get that.

But then he made the heartbreaking realization in having me, he couldn’t get her back.

Sure, he was a jerk about informing me of that but I could kind of get that too.

Then he’d understandably taken off to get his children to safety, and get away from me, the woman it hurt to even look at. But he’d left me in a beautiful house in a beautiful country with kind people. He’d given me gorgeous clothes. He’d provided me with a guard of great guys who saw me here, and in doing so gave me the best time of my life.

Now, he was forced to endure my presence and he was doing it as a kindness to me so I wouldn’t have to be around the this world children I couldn’t have in mine.

So he was arrogant and autocratic. He was the head of an aristocratic line in this world. What did I know of how they behaved? He was the only one I knew. Hell, others might even be worse than him.

And, truth be told, if I thought about it (which I hadn’t until then), his men said something about him.

Actually, if I
really
thought about it, Apollo had often displayed a sense of humor and he definitely displayed a sense of duty. He was clearly intelligent. He was also generous. There were reasons he inspired loyalty from those men, especially the ones from different Houses. They didn’t have to stay with him.

And he’d been displaying those reasons since the night I met him.

Chiefly, him traveling to another world to save me from Pol.

Okay, so this world was living under the threat of misfortune raining down on it through witchy she-gods.

But the misfortune Pol had rained down on me was pretty danged bad and it threatened to last a lifetime.

And I was safe from that.

Forever.

Because of Apollo.

So what did I have to be a bitch about?

I pulled off my fabulous fur cape (another reason not to be a bitch, seriously, it was awesome), moving to the table to throw it over a chair, thinking I was going to have to sort myself out.

This wasn’t easy on either of us. There was no reason to make it harder.

I tossed my cape over the chair and was about to move to my trunk when I noticed on the table that the wine and glasses were gone. In their place were a teapot and two teacups.