Skin.Bone.Fingers?
And then there was wind across her forehead, warm and soothing, and not wind.Breath.Because lips followed it—firm yet gentle and pressed just above her brow.
“Sweet dreams, princess.”
The slap of footsteps, the creak of a hinge, then silence.
Sleep came swiftly.
And it felt like a kiss in the dark.
10
A SAD DAY FOR SHEEP
The rain would not stop, the journey would not end, and Apollo would likely die before they reached the wilds of Yorkshire.There were a few credible scenarios for his demise.
He might perish from the weight of having to take care for someone other than himself for the first time in his life.Who knew it was so exhausting.To the body, but mostly to the soul.The worry!The fretting!The details he’d found himself remembering about Sybil Grant’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner.He knew what shade of pale was simply her skin and what was exhausted defeat.He knew how many hours she’d gone without laughing and how many times she’d stuffed her hands into her pockets, trying to make friends with the metals weighing her down.He knew how many times she’d burnt her palms and singed her fingernails.He never paid this much attention to himself, but if someone didn’t tend to Sybil, she’d wear out like a damned candle, melting away entirely.
Then Temple would kill him.
Or, if Apollo didn’t die of worry, he’d die of unsatisfied desire.Whatever gods watched them knew he’d had opportunity to relieve himself in the post-midnight world when he’d finally coaxed Sybil to rest and put her to sleep.He ended their fireside sessions half hard and half frantic, but when he took himself in hand once alone, he could only conjure Sybil’s image, and while his cock had decided only that image would do for those purposes, well…
Temple would kill him.
So either way, death was imminent.
They’d been at Doncaster for two full days as the heavens wept without pause.Their next stop Foggy Hill House.The Blue Anvil Inn their limbo.
Sybil sat near the fire in a private drawing room where they’d broken their fast, and Apollo was pacing behind her.She bent over, her elbows resting on her knees, one hand cradled atop the other, and his gold nestled in the center of her upturned palm.God, he hoped she never realized that wavy disk, if viewed from a certain angle, resembled a naked woman.
“You need a break,” he said.
“No.”
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I won’t.”
He was damn near close to throwing her over his shoulder and?—
A knock on the door startled him to his feet.When he opened the door, he found a maid waiting in the hallway.“’Scuse me, Mr.Grant, but there’s a lady downstairs who needs an alchemist.”
“And?How am I supposed to help?”
Sybil’s warm weight settled behind him.
“We don’t have one,” the maid said.“There’s an alchemist who lives about an hour away visits once a month, but he recently died.”
“What about his apprentice?”Sybil asked.
The maid shook her head.“He went off to Manchester to find another master.”
“My brother is still in training.”Sybil looked up at Apollo.“But he can speak with this lady, see if he can be of any use.”
“Thank you!”The maid bobbed a curtsy and stepped away from the door to allow them room to exit.
“Just a moment.I need to speak with my sister.”He closed the door and eyed Sybil.“You know I’m useless.And you…” He bit his tongue.
