Home > Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(80)

Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(80)
Author: Kristen Ashley

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.

“Do you not think,” he began, his tone gentle, “that one day not one but both of them would put together the way it is with our worlds and wonder? Wonder why there isn’t a them in your world or if you left their twins behind? You do not know him yet, poppy, but Christophe is very bright, as is Élan. They would eventually think on these things.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” I replied. “But did this have to happen now?”

“I wish for my children to know the woman I intend to marry and I wish the same for the woman who is to be my wife. So yes, it had to happen now. There’s no reason to delay.”

“Did you think about maybe discussing with me what about me you could or could not share with your kids or, say, anyone at this juncture or any other juncture for that matter?” I inquired.

“What I wish to know,” he replied, but did it carefully, “is why this is a secret? Maddie, you did nothing wrong.”

He wasn’t right about that.

I didn’t share the ways he wasn’t right.

I said instead, “That’s not the point.”

“Could you please explain the point?” he asked gently.

He was being gentle and he’d said please.

But he wanted me to move in with him and his kids.

Tomorrow!

“The point is, this is moving too fast.”

His tone was less gentle when he noted, “You say this often.”

“Because you move too fast often.”

“We clearly disagree on this,” he returned.

“Apollo, it’s been a week.”

“And again, I will state we share the same table every evening and the same bed every night. I don’t understand why it has to be in separate homes.”

“Because there are children involved,” I hissed.

“And this factors how?” he shot back, definitely less gentle and getting impatient again.

But I felt my own brows rise.

“How?”

“That’s what I asked,” he returned. “You see, my dove, it isn’t you saying good-bye to your children and riding through the snow every night.”

All right. Fine.

I could see that.

“Okay then, if that’s a pain in your ass, and I could see that it would be night after night, then I’ll sneak in the house after they go to bed.”

He’s brows knit. “Sneak?”

“Yes.”

“Why would you sneak?”

He was crazy.

“Because, honey, I’d be arriving to crawl in your bed with you and do the nasty.”

His jaw got hard and his arms got tight. “What we do in bed is not nasty.”

Uh-oh.

Obviously, he got the wrong idea about that.

I shook my head quickly and set about righting that wrong. “No. That’s not what I meant. It’s a turn of phrase in my world.”

He dropped his arms and took a step back. “It doesn’t surprise me that those of your world would use that word for lovemaking. However they are wrong and you are wrong for using it to refer to what we do.”

Now I could see he was getting angry so I erased the space he put between us and placed my hand on his chest. “You’re right. I’d never thought of it like that, but you’re right and it absolutely does not define in any way what we do in bed or how I think of it.”

“Yet you discuss sneaking into my home to avoid my children knowing you’re here and in my bed, so you must hold some scorn or guilt for what we do,” he returned.

“No,” I shook my head again, leaning deeper into him. “Not at all. But they’re kids Apollo. Young kids. And they don’t need to know their father has a bed partner.”

“I won’t exactly be sharing our play second for second at the breakfast table, Madeleine,” he stated, his voice turning cold. “But to share your bed with a woman you care about is not something to be ashamed of.”

“No, of course not, but—”

“And I’ll not communicate that by hiding who you are to me.”

That was nice, so nice.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t moving too fast.

“That’s sweet, honey, but—”

“And I’ll not have it communicated to my children…in any way…that the act of love between two agreeable adults is something to hide because it’s shameful.”

“Right, I get that, sweetheart. I totally do. But—”

“If you get it, then you move in tomorrow,” he declared.

“Listen—”

“Tomorrow, Madeleine,” he decreed.

Unfortunately, he was cutting me off and being arrogant and bossy all at the same time and this was serving to piss me off.

“Okay,” I began, “you know your children better than me, obviously, so let’s just say this is moving too fast for me.”

“I do not understand how,” he returned.

“Apollo,” with effort, I controlled the snap in my voice, “I haven’t had the chance to figure out what I’m going to do with my life, what with war breaking out and everything.”

“And this requires you being in the dower house?”

“It requires time to think.” When he opened his mouth, I hastened to add, “Alone time.”

“Maddie, the children are with their tutors all day and I’m equally busy. You’ll have plenty of alone time.”

“You don’t understand,” I pointed out the obvious.

“No, I do not,” he agreed to the obvious. “What I do understand is that whatever you’re going to do with your life, you’ll be doing it as my wife, living with me and my children in this bloody house. So you’re very correct. I don’t understand why you need to be in a home ten minutes away to figure that out delaying the inevitable, that being moving in here.”

I tried to go gentle when I stated, “It isn’t the inevitable. None of that has been decided, Apollo.”

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