“And you’d be contented with allowing me to bring you to this world, bring you from yours where you lived in fear and on the run, and let you carry forth working as a barmaid?” he asked curtly. “Subsisting from coin to coin. Forcing down food much worse than our sandwiches today because you could afford no better. A woman who understands and appreciates the finest champagne, reduced to that and me forcing it on you?”
“It isn’t about champagne,” I snapped, his comment hitting way too close to the bone. “And it wouldn’t be you forcing it on me. It would be my choice.”
“It would be me forcing it on you, Maddie. Taking you from the other world, that was not your choice. That was mine. You have grand ideas of how you would exist on this world, but you have no idea how those who work in inns or pubs or elsewhere survive. I’m sure there is contentment and even happiness. But you’re not simply a woman who appreciates the finest champagne. You’re a woman who deserves it.”
At that unexpected and unbelievably nice compliment, I clamped my mouth shut as I felt my heart seize.
“And my first wife was a physician. She had her life, I had mine and we successfully managed to have both of those together. Do you not think it’s a better idea to be fed, comfortable and safe while you decide how you’d like to spend your time in your new world? And then be the same while you go about doing it?”
My heart burst into action and was beating so fast, it scared the hell out of me so I focused on that and on his words and didn’t answer.
He didn’t seem to mind and kept talking.
“You may wish to go from gale to gale, ball to ball, hunt to hunt and wear fine clothes and jewels, and I would not care, glad simply to have you on my arm. Or you may wish to study a profession and then put it to practice, and I would not care, but only if you share your days with me when they are at an end. You may instead wish to bake the best cakes in all of Lunwyn, and I wouldn’t care, for I’d get to eat them. Hell, you could desire to learn something of my financial interests and become involved, and I would welcome it.”
Totally.
Seriously.
Completely.
Was this guy for real?
His hand tightened in mine. “In other words, I don’t care what you do. The only thing I care about is that you’re safe and happy while doing it. You’ve not shared with me but you know that I know that you’ve had a life where you were not either. Not in the slightest. I didn’t bring you here to give you the same ugliness but in a different way, slaving in a pub to feed yourself. I brought you here to give you”—his hand jerked mine—“better.”
Oh my God.
Suddenly, the vision of him was swimming and this was because my eyes had filled with tears.
His hand gentled around mine and his voice was gentle too when he whispered, “Poppy.”
“Now that,” I started, my voice trembling, “was a marriage proposal.”
Apollo made no reply and I looked away as I grabbed my napkin to dab my eyes, hoping (even though it was doubtful), that no one was watching.
And as I did, Apollo again tugged my hand across the table and I felt his lips brush my knuckles.
I closed my eyes tight.
I was right before.
This guy just got better and better.
He put our hands to the table but gave mine a gentle squeeze.
“Is that a yes, my dove?”
I drew in a calming breath and on its heels another one. With tears under control, if not the beating of my heart, I lifted my eyes to him.
“This is going very fast,” I reiterated.
“Yes,” he agreed, not letting go of my hand or my gaze.
“It’s scary.”
“Yes,” he agreed again and I watched in fascination as his beautiful jade eyes turned hard and determined. “And this, my poppy, will be the last thing on this world or any other that you fear.”
Oh…my…God.