Broken Dove (Fantasyland #4)(151)

He spoke over her. “And after our talk, we’ll speak to Christophe together about his continued distance.”

At this, her body relaxed and he knew what that meant.

“I take it you agree it’s time we confront him about it,” he remarked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Though, I’m not sure I should be there.”

He shook his head. “In future, if there are issues that need discussion, outside of those that need to be dealt with man to man, you will be there. He must learn to get used to that and it’s best he do it now.”

Her head tipped to the side, her gaze went unfocused and her teeth came out to worry her lip.

He gave her a squeeze and she again focused on him.

“Do you disagree?”

Hesitantly, she said, “Not exactly. It’s just that I think my presence at this particular discussion may not be a good thing.”

“Explain,” he demanded.

“I can’t,” she returned. “I’m not a young boy who lost his mother and faces another woman in his life who looks exactly like her but is not her. I don’t know what he’s feeling. I just know it’s me who’s making him feel it.” She pressed closer and got up on her toes. “And although I agree wholeheartedly that this has to be discussed, I think you, particularly you, Lo, need to be sensitive to all that. It causes me pain to cause others pain, the others being people who knew and loved Ilsa. It causes me more doing it to Chris and I’d rather not do it and instead, give him my company when he wants it, not when it’s pressed on him.”

Listening to her, allowing her words to penetrate, he studied her exquisite face, the adorable freckles that danced on her nose, freckles that became more pronounced if she spent time outside, and he hoped they created a daughter that she bestowed those freckles on.

As well as her hair.

And those remarkable eyes.

Not to mention her sense of humor. Her bravery. Her fighting spirit. Her quick wit. Her loyalty. And her drive never to give up even when the odds were against her.

To communicate all this, when she’d finished speaking, he pulled her deeper into his arms, dipped his face closer to hers and whispered, “You’ll make a wonderful mother.”

Distractedly, he felt her entire body stiffen as her face froze.

And it was distractedly he noted both because Bella ran into the room and said on a near shout, “Lord Apollo!”

He turned, still holding Maddie in his arms, but it was Apollo who grew still as a stone when he looked into Bella’s face.

“He’s gone!” she cried.

He dropped one arm but held Madeleine’s tense body tight to his side as he turned fully to the children’s maid.

“Explain, Bella,” he barked, the words harsh and abrasive as they scored through his throat.

“Chris!” she exclaimed and Apollo’s chest got tight as he felt Maddie’s hand come up and curl into his sweater at his stomach. “The tutor said he left to go answer the call of nature and when I went up to get them for lunch, he’d not returned.” She shook her head frantically from side-to-side and lifted her hands in a helpless gesture that made every inch of skin on Apollo’s frame feel like toxin was burning into it. “It’s been some time since he left the school room. We’ve looked everywhere and we can’t find him.”

“Oh my God,” Maddie breathed.

But Apollo moved.

He broke away from her but turned to her, leaned in and lifted a finger to within an inch of her face.

“You do not leave this house,” he commanded.

“Okay, honey,” she agreed instantly.

“Not for any reason, Madeleine,” he clipped.

“Okay,” she repeated. “Go,” she whispered, her heart in her throat making it croaky, her eyes bright with fear.

He turned and moved to the door as he ordered Bella, “Send a man to the dower house. Get Cristiana and Meeta here at once. And get Hans to bring Loretta inside.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied and he felt her dashing out of the study behind him.

But he didn’t look to see where she’d gone. He didn’t look back to Madeleine.

He moved with purpose to find his men, give orders and then find his son.

* * * * *

Apollo on Torment dashed through the forest at a full gallop, so fast he could feel his cloak flying out behind him.

He was guiding his horse, his eyes riveted to the tracks in the snow.

But he let his steed avoid the trees and low hanging branches.

There were two sets of small tracks.

Two sets of small tracks that stated that unless Christophe was abducted by a dwarf, he’d run away with Nathaniel.

And if he’d done this, once they found him, he would embrace his son.

Then he’d tan his arse.

As if sensing these were his thoughts, he heard Achilles call out from behind him, “Stay calm, Lo.”

Easy advice to give, not having a son in these times…or ever.

Not advice he could, or would, take.

“Apollo!” He heard Frey shout, also from behind him, these two being the two Apollo had chosen to search with him as the men separated in order to cover more ground.

It was not luck but good tracking skills that they’d noted quite close to the house how the boys had swept the snow to hide their tracks. They’d followed the well-disguised (but not well enough) trail. Then they’d found where the boys had thought they were safely away and had stopped bothering to hide their tracks.