Page 53 of Conquer
“Why?” Magda wonders, her voice bordering on a whine. With It against her chest, she burrows beneath the blankets and promptly disappears beneath them, she’s so tiny in such a large bed. “I don’t want to,” she declares, her voice muffled.
“Sure, you do.” I shuffle forward and yank the blankets from over her, revealing her pouting at me with an intensity that makes my heart soften and melt.
“Can’t we watch more cartoons?” she asks plaintively. “I don’twantto go outside.”
Her eyes flicker in the direction of a certain neighbor’s property, and I sigh in exasperation. The entire display is almost enough to make me give in. Almost…
But then I envision myself as a helicopter mom with badly permed hair leading Magda around by a child leash and promptly change my mind.
“No. Come on, you love riding,” I say, doing my best to cajole her. Judging from her stubborn frown, it’s going to be an uphill battle. “You can show me how to ride Magnus,” I add, naming the horse Vadim procured for me. “I haven’t even gotten to test him out yet.”
“And,” Vadim pitches in, returning from the closet fully dressed in a pair of jodhpurs and a black T-shirt, “we can race her on my Zzazza. With you as my copilot, I’m sure we’ll win, even at a slower pace.”
I look at him in mock indignation. “You’re on! What do you say, Mags?”
She eyes us warily, mulling it over. Finally, she crawls off the bed and marches toward her room, her head down, her shoulders slumped in defeat. I follow and make a show out of rifling through her riding outfits—mysteriously, it seems at least ten more sets have joined the first one Vadim bought her since the last time she’s ridden—settling on a bold, scarlet jacket, white blouse, and black pants.
The clothing tempts her when even my best jokes don’t. She’s still brooding during our quick breakfast and the entire walk out to the stable. I almost fear I’ve made a mistake, but the second she spots the face of her pony peeking eagerly from over the door of her stall, her entire face brightens.
By the time the three of us are out on the trail—me riding my black stallion Magnus, with Vadim and Magda astride his beautiful Zzazza—I have no more doubts. We needed this, all of us. Fresh air. Peace. The tranquility we find in exploring the furthest reaches of the property by horseback.
Vadim picked his property well. It spans way more ground than one would think when observing the space solely from the house. Alone, he commands a good bit of the waterfront and the surrounding woods. A series of old paths lend themselves well to becoming decent trails with a bit of work to flesh them out.
Something even Magda picks up on. “Could I ride my pony here one day with Ainsley?” she asks midway in. It’s the first complete sentence she’s said since leaving the house, but her expression has brightened at least. Gone is the surly frown, and her eyes gleam as she looks back to find Vadim nodding.
“Of course,chérie.I’m sure you could.”
Content with that answer, she settles against his chest. By the time we return to the house, she’s almost fully shaken the foul mood entirely. After dinner, I help her up to bed and promptly discover that Vadim has made some minor changes to our previous routine.
“You have to brush itthisway,” Magda commands, showing me how to coax the brush through her hair, supposedly the same way her father does. Once I’ve finally arranged the braids to her liking and tucked her beneath the blankets, I retreat for the door.
“Oh!”
I turn around to find her lurching upright, riffling through her end table until she withdraws her cell phone from a drawer. As I watch her dial a number in confusion, she looks up and says, “I promised Harry and Gigi I’d call them once a week.”
“Harry and Gigi?” She mentions the prospect of calling these mystery people with such earnest seriousness that I’m at a complete loss. Until I realize. “You mean my parents?”
She nods and settles against her pillow with the phone pressed to her ear. “Vadim said I could. Harry is going to tell me about his strawberry plants, and Gigi said she was going to send me dress-up clothes—” She breaks off, cocking her head to listen, and I’m promptly forgotten. “Hi,” she says in her charming way, so similar to Vadim’s disarming cadence. It’s like she’s studied his tactics for manipulation as an art form. “Yes, I’ve been in the muck…”
I leave her to it, escaping down to the kitchen to find Vadim washing the dishes, looking deliciously domestic.
“You gave her permission to call my parents once a week?” I ask, slipping my arms around him from behind. “How very kind of you. They’re smitten. I think they might have kidnapped her if we didn’t leave when we did.” My voice turns wistful as I reflect on just how quickly my parents have taken to her. To him.
Jim was lucky to get a Christmas card and a coupon in the mail for his birthday.
“She insisted,” Vadim says, frowning. He turns to face me, cupping my chin against his palm. “But… I’ve decided. She deserves her answers, and I intend to find them.”
“I think you should,” I say softly.
His furrowed brows betray that he doesn’t fully like the prospect, but his fingers part my hair, tilting me back for a searching, slow kiss. “And, though I’m not sure how long it will take, I believe you may be safer with me,” he adds.
I feel my nose wrinkle. “What about Magda?”
His gaze darkens as he contemplates the possibility of leaving her behind, even for a little while. “Ena will watch over her.”
“Or,” I say, tentatively licking my lips. “She can still have Ena’s protection,andthe benefit of being around someone who can actually participate in a game of tea party.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
