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.
“You’ll get used to it,” Finnie said, and I looked to her.
“Easy for you to say,” I returned on a smile. “You spend most of your time on a galleon having adventures on the high seas. Who cares if a galleon goes fast? You’re having adventures on the high seas.”
“I’ve sat often enough in a sleigh to get you,” she replied.
I figured she did so I said nothing.
“Tomorrow, we’ll make Fyngaard and the Winter Palace and we won’t see a sleigh for, oh, I don’t know, at least three days,” Finnie went on.
“It isn’t much,” I mumbled. “But it’s something.”
“You also get to meet Cora and Tor,” Circe added. “Lahn told me they’re already there, Valentine with them, casting enchantments or…whatever.”
At least there was meeting Cora (the real one) and Tor to look forward to.
“The dream team unites,” I murmured.
Circe grinned at me before she grinned at Finnie.
At this point, Meeta collapsed on the couch beside me (but she did it far more elegantly than I did, I was certain).
Watching her do it, it occurred to me that Meeta had been within spitting distance of me any time she could since we left Karsvall.
Then again, she was Spock to my Kirk. That was where she was supposed to be.
Not to mention, the last time we took a road trip, things got extreme.
Once settled, she muttered, “If I sit my arse in another one of those contraptions and glide through the frost that settles in the bones never again in my life, I will be content.”
At her words, I burst out laughing.
Obviously, we were on our way to Fyngaard to attend the Bitter Gales. All of us. Apollo’s men. Frey’s men. And Lahn’s men. The only ones who weren’t there were Lavinia and Valentine. They were off on unexplained magical errands seeing to the safety of two continents.
The good news about this was that I got to wear another awesome gown and attend a ball where intrigue was afoot (and the gown I’d been fitted for for the Bitter Gales was not just awesome, it was awesome).
The bad news about this was that Fyngaard was a two week’s ride away from Karsvall and I was d-o-n-e done with sleigh rides.
Sure, at first, they seemed great.
But after you’d spent a bazillion hours in a sleigh, not so much.
On this thought, Tunahn, who was cavorting on the floor, grabbed hold of my skirt and tugged hard (and cavorting for Tunahn included finding ways to get into trouble, thus earning a scolding from his mother, a scolding he would ignore for the instant she set him down again, he’d merrily go about his business finding another way to get into trouble).
Since he was freaking strong and his tug was misshaping the knit of my skirt, I bent forward, snatched him up and held his heavy, squirming, big boy baby body in front of me.
I looked into his eyes and shared, “It’s rude to pull a woman’s skirt.”
His response was to curl his fingers into the low square neckline of my gown and yank it out.
I cuddled him to me, laughing, but effectively stopping him from exposing me to everyone in the lounge of the inn where we were staying.
I tipped my chin down to see his intelligent, but annoyed, dark eyes were tipped up to me, and I shared, “And that’s even ruder.”