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Phee.
And she was sitting in the gloomy light filtering in the windows through the foggy, overcast day beyond. She was radiant in a plain afternoon gown of green silk skirts and a patterned navy bodice, her fiery hair plaited into two braids that were coiled together at her nape, a few wispy curls left free to frame her face. In her elegant hands, she held a dish of tea.
He had never in his life been jealous of a piece of crockery before, but he was now. He’d have given the clothes off his back to trade places with that blasted cup and saucer. To have her hands on him. Her lips.
Damn it. How pathetic he was, standing here afraid to breathe lest she discover his presence and flit away. His sister was seated opposite her, chattering as usual, but he didn’t hear a word Ro had said. All he could think was mine. And all he could see was the woman he loved, beneath his very roof. In his territory. Within reach.
Surely this was no coincidence.
Although she often took tea with his sister, Apollo wanted to believe this occasion was different. That Phee had been plagued with thoughts of him just as he had of her. That she missed him. That perhaps she was rethinking her decision.
And then he heard the unmistakable voice of a small child’s question cutting through the air.
“Mama, who is that man standing at the door?”
Jolted from his feverish longing, he noticed for the first time a young girl and boy together on the carpets near the hearth, toys scattered between them. There was no question who the children belonged to. They had Phee’s hair, fiery copper-gold like the setting sun.
The girl was curious, eyes wide. The lad, slightly older and far more serious, gazed at him warily, as if he feared Apollo might indeed be a house cracksman.
“Brother,” Ro greeted warmly. “Do stop hovering at the door and come in.”
Now he was caught. There was no way to pretend as if he hadn’t been surreptitiously gawking at Phee like a lovelorn suitor. Ah, well. His pride was already as shredded as a battle flag that had seen cannon fire.
He bowed, deliberately avoiding catching Phee’s eye. He didn’t know what he would see there. Annoyance? Longing? Even worse, nothing at all?
“Forgive me,” he intoned as he straightened. “I didn’t intend to interrupt your tea.”
“We were just beginning,” Ro said, beaming at him. “Do join us.”
He didn’t want tea. But he also very much didn’t want to walk away. It would be impossible to retire to his study knowing Phee was just down the hall, within reach.
“Thank you, I believe I shall,” he said easily, crossing the room with determined strides.
He stopped before the playing children first and sketched another bow. “My lady, my lord. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Prestwick, Lady Aphrodite’s brother.”
Phee’s son was playing with a set of carved wooden soldiers on the floor, and her daughter held a doll, he saw now. So much of her was reflected in their small faces and freckled noses. They were adorable. The younger one, the girl, appeared much more trusting than her older brother, who had risen to his feet and taken up a protective stance.
The lad bowed stiffly. “Your Grace.”
“Catherine, mind your manners, if you please,” Phee requested, her voice husky and soft.
He felt her gaze on his back as if it were a touch.
The girl rose and performed a curtsy that was more like a flounce. “Your Face.” She held up her doll. “This is Rosebud, and she haves a puppy called Princess and a rabbit named Miss Hoppity Hop.”
With great effort, he schooled his features to keep his levity from showing. “How do you do, Lady Catherine, Rosebud, Princess Puppy, and Miss Hoppity Hop?”
The child grinned up at him. “Oh, you can’t see Princess Puppy and Miss Hoppity Hop ’cause they’re not here.”
“Dearest, it is Your Grace, not Your Face,” Phee corrected gently.
“Mayhap I’ll meet them when next our paths cross, then,” he told the girl.
The younger child’s eyebrows rose. “Will we see each another again?”
“Each other,” Phee intervened again, “and I expect not.”
Well. That was rather unwanted news.
