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“Why the devil not?”

He could well understand Mal’s confusion. There had never been any secrets between them, nor had there been a need for discretion in any of Apollo’s past affairs. But this was different. This was Phee, the woman he had watched from afar and wanted for years. And he would protect her with his life, if need be.

“Don’t push me, Mal,” he warned.

His friend sighed. “So protective. I’ve never seen you like this, old chap.”

“Protective of whom?” He raised a brow, continuing to feign ignorance for Phee’s sake.

Mal chuckled, apparently finding their conversation amusing. “You know exactly whom.”

He held his friend’s stare, unflinching. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Christ.” Mal shook his head, his expression turning rueful. “You’re determined, aren’t you?”

Apollo didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. Mal wasn’t a fool, and Apollo wasn’t a terribly good liar. They had known each other for years.

“You do realize what this is, don’t you?” Mal asked.

“Yes, it is a horse,” Apollo drawled, deliberately misunderstanding his friend. “I assure you that I’ve seen one or two in my day. Indeed, I’m presently riding one.”

“Ha! Not the bloody horse. This mysteriousness that’s afoot. Suddenly, you’re keeping more secrets than a spy. Besides that, you haven’t given any of the ladies in attendance a second look. Ordinarily, you’re only too happy to join in the amusements offered at these house parties. This time, I can scarcely ever find you. You missed shooting the other day, for God’s sake.”

He shrugged. “I was otherwise occupied.”

“Posing naked for the ladies, I’m told by more than one wagging tongue. The same tongue also informed me you named our lovely hostess the winner of the best portrait, despite the fact that she’d portrayed you as Beelzebub.” Mal punctuated that pronouncement with a laugh, clearly finding far too much joy in Apollo’s suffering.

Curse the wagging tongues.

“Her rendition was most accurate,” Apollo said with as much calm as he could manage.

Mal’s levity faded, his countenance growing serious. “I never thought I’d see the day you fell in love again after all that happened with Helene. You swore off love forever.”

Love. That was not what this was, what he felt for Phee. Not this conflagration of his soul, the aching yearning for her that was without cease. No, surely this was obsession at best and, at worst, pure base lust.

“I’m not in love,” he denied with all haste.

Perhaps too much haste. Because now that he thought about it, what he felt for Phee was a whole lot like love. Alarmingly, shockingly, like love. Like real love, not the infatuation he’d once had with Helene years ago.

“Deny it all you like,” Mal said quietly. “That won’t render your feelings any less true.”

Apollo scrubbed a hand over his jaw, feeling as if he were a drowning man in the midst of the ocean. Just when he thought he had kept himself above water, another wave hit him, sending him under. Was he in love with Phee?

And if he was, what then?

These were troublesome questions, questions to which he didn’t readily have the answers.

So instead, he growled at his friend. “Will you do it or not?”

Mal gave him a beatific smile. “I’ll do it, old chum.”

Relief flooded him anew, and suddenly, he could breathe again. “Thank you.”

“Now, then,” Mal said, his smile deepening to a grin. “I’ll race you to that tree line.”

“Done,” Apollo agreed, grateful for the distraction from the weighty subject they had been discussing.

“On the count of three,” his friend added. “One, two, three!”