Ivy's Choice (The Fey Quartet Book 3) Read Online Free Page A

the bowl in front of him again, calmly. “You’re being nonsensical.”
    “Curse it, Ivy, I know what just happened!”
    “No, I don’t think you do. I wanted to have sex with you, and I enjoyed it as much as you did, and there is nothing more to say about it. Now eat, before your food goes cold.”
    “I didn’t even ask you!”
    “Yes, you did.” He’d asked her with his body—with his kisses and the rocking of his hips—and she had answered him the same way.
    Hugh blinked. Confusion crossed his face. “I did?”
    “Yes,” Ivy said. “Now, eat.”
    Hugh blinked a second time. After a moment, he picked up the spoon again. He hesitated, then dipped the spoon in the bowl.
     
----
     
    HUGH ATE SILENTLY . Ivy sat at the table with him and looked down at her folded hands and gave herself a brisk talking to. She was a grown woman; why should she not enjoy physical congress with a man? I am not embarrassed by it and I do not regret it.
    What she did regret was that Hugh regretted it.
    She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Hugh Dappleward. She’d known him by reputation for years. Men spoke of him highly. He was like his father, it was said. A man who took his responsibilities seriously. A man who listened and observed, who thought before acting. A man people respected.
    He hadn’t thought before acting tonight, but then neither had she.
    Ivy suppressed a sigh. She studied her hands for another minute—and then glanced at Hugh again.
    She’d seen him from a distance when he’d visited Dapple Bend with his father, but only met him twelve days ago, on the occasion of Hazel and Tam’s betrothal. He’d been surrounded by his brother and father and cousin and his father’s liegemen, the Ironfists, but he’d drawn her attention. She’d liked him far too much. Liked his stern, dark face, his watchful gray eyes, his reserve—and especially liked his rare smile. When he’d smiled, it had made her heart turn over in her chest.
    The Hugh who sat at her table dressed in a blanket was a different Hugh entirely, weary and haggard, a man pushed almost to his limits by pain and anguish. And shame. Shame because he’d had frantic, desperate, unthinking sex with her on the rush-strewn floor.
    Ivy let her gaze rest on his face. He looked heartbreakingly vulnerable, his disheveled dark hair falling forward over his brow.
    Hugh Dappleward, I could easily love you.
    But she could never marry him. Hugh would be Lord Warder of Dapple Vale one day. A huge responsibility. A burden, even. The last thing he needed was a cripple for a wife. Hugh needed a strong woman, a woman he could lean on, a woman who would be able to help him—not one who needed help herself.
    Ivy looked down at the tabletop. If Larkspur’s gift hadn’t proved so disastrou s—
    No, she wouldn’t think of that, wouldn’t allow herself to fall into regret and bitterness, any more than she would allow herself to fall into useless embarrassment.
    Hugh laid down the spoon. The bowl was empty.
    “Would you like more?” Ivy asked.
    He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “No, thank you.”
    Ivy leaned her elbows on the table. “Hugh . . . how did you become a roebuck? What happened?”
    Hugh pushed the empty bowl away. “I don’t remember.”
    “It’s Faerie magic,” Ivy said. “But you of all people wouldn’t have done anything to earn a punishment like that!”
    Hugh glanced at her and grimaced slightly, but said nothing.
    “Can you think of anyone who wishes you ill? Someone who might know about Faerie magic?”
    “No one who wishes me ill . . . that I know of.” He rubbed his face.
    “And people who know about Faerie magic?” Ivy persisted.
    “Outside of my family, and the Ironfists . . . no one.”
    “The Ironfists?” Memory gave her a picture of the Ironfists, father and son: big, bearded, brutal-looking men. “Could it be one of them? Cadoc?”
    “Cadoc? No!” Hugh shook his head sharply. “Cadoc isn’t