She framed his face with her hands, tilting it up so she could look in his eyes. “You survived. You endured and survived.”
His lips curved bitterly. “I had no choice.”
She shook her head. “There’s always a choice. You could’ve given up, let them take your soul and mind, but you didn’t. You persevered. I think you are the bravest man I have ever met.”
“I think, then, that you’ve not met many men,” he whispered. His voice was light, but his face still held the years of tragedy.
“Hush.”
She kissed him, not as a lover, but almost platonically, to acknowledge all that he was. Her lips brushed his forehead, both cheeks, and finally his mouth. Softly. A benediction.
“Let us sleep,” she said, and helped him to lie down on the bed.
She arranged the covers over both of them and then laid her head upon his chest, listening to the beat of his heart: ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump.
And that was how she fell asleep.
APOLLO WOKE TO the realization that he’d overslept. When he’d worked in the garden, he’d awoken as the birds had heralded the rising sun. But here inside, in a soft bed with a softer, warm woman against his side, he found it harder to brush away the tendrils of sleep.
“What?” Lily mumbled as he gently removed her arm from his belly.
He’d like to linger longer. To kiss her awake and make love to her again, but it was only a matter of time before the servants descended on the room. Besides, the sooner he left, the less likely that he’d run into other guests.
So he dressed quickly as she sighed and rolled to burrow into the warm spot he’d left.
Apollo gathered his coat and gave a last glance around the room before bending to kiss her again on the lips.
Her brow wrinkled ferociously and she cracked her eyelids to mutter, “Is it?”
He smiled. Evidently she wasn’t an alert waker. “I’ll see you later.”
Her only reply was an unfeminine grunt as she pulled a pillow over her head.
The smile still lingered as he crept into the hall and gently shut the door behind him.
He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to look to his right. Had someone just disappeared around the corner at the end of the corridor? Or had the movement been imagined?
Apollo narrowed his eyes, thinking, but in the end decided that even if he’d seen someone, most likely it had been a servant at this time of the morning.
He turned in the other direction—only to find the Duke of Montgomery watching him.
He prevented himself from starting only by sheer willpower. “I hadn’t thought you an early riser, Your Grace.”
Montgomery cocked his head. “What makes you think I’ve slept?”
Apollo examined the other man. He was perfectly groomed in a bloodred suit, pumps, and clocked hose. His golden hair had been swept back into an elegant tail, the ends curled. Or perhaps his hair curled naturally. In any case, Apollo felt like a rat next to a sleek greyhound.
Not that he cared in particular.
“Have you?” he asked curiously, approaching the other man. “Slept?”
A secret smile curled the duke’s lips. “I find sleep a bore—especially when I might spend the nocturnal hours in more… pleasurable pursuits.”
“I see.” Apollo fell into step with the other man. He had no idea where the duke was headed, but he himself was bent on the breakfast room in search of strong coffee.
God, he hoped his uncle provided coffee for his guests.
“Morning is the best time to discover the inhabitants of a house sneaking out of bedrooms not their own.” The duke gave him an entirely too-innocent look. “As you were doing just now from Miss Goodfellow’s room. I now understand your ire yesterday at the unexpected sight of her.”