The Magic Between Us (Faerie) (18 page)

“So he has restored his place in society now.”

“He’s respectable in every sense of the word,” Allen said.

“So, what do we do?”

“What do you all want to do?” his father asked. “Do we wait for him to strike? Or do we try to force his hand?”

“I vote that we invite him and his new wife to the wedding celebration,” Lord Phineas suggested. “There’s no easier way to tell if he’s turned over a new leaf. He’ll show up and pretend nothing has happened, or he’ll show up with demands about the fae, or he’ll not show up at all.”

“He has something to hold over all our heads.”

“Who would believe him?” the duke scoffed. “The idea that winged people live and work among the
ton
? It’s ridiculous.”

“He doesn’t know about wings. Or faeries. All he knows is that Claire was somehow able to shove him into a painting. But he was more than a bit mad that day. He may not even remember it.” Lord Phineas shook his head. “You should have seen the look on his face. Before he tried to shoot Claire, his eyes were empty.”

“So, what will we do?” Marcus asked.

“Invite him,” Lord Phineas said with a shrug. “We’ll all be there, and I can have all of my men attend the event.”

“The wedding is at my house,” the duke reminded them.

“Why is it at your house?” Marcus asked.

“Because I’m the bloody Duke of Robinsworth, that’s why,” Robinsworth said, grinning. “I say I want it at my house. And it’s at my house.”

Marcus snorted. “Sophia told you that you were hosting it, didn’t she? And you couldn’t say no.”

“Well,” he muttered, “it might have happened that way. Or it might have happened the way I said it did. You’ll never know.”

“Oh, we know,” all the men muttered at once, and then laughter shook the room.

Marcus waited before the fountain in Robinsworth’s serene garden, his family in attendance, along with Cecelia’s father and Ainsley. It was a small gathering, and society wouldn’t join them for the celebration until later. There would be dinner and dancing and… danger.

“Marcus, could I have a word with you?” Mr. Hewitt asked, taking Marcus’s elbow in his hand.

“I believe my bride is about to come down,” Marcus complained. “Can it wait?”

Marcus looked around. He really didn’t want to go with Mr. Hewitt, but he supposed he had better. As the father of the bride, Mr. Hewitt could withdraw his blessing if he so chose. He could withdraw it despite the marriage settlement they’d agreed upon. Not that it would matter. Marcus would marry Cecelia that day and take her as his own wife even if he had to tie her father up and stuff him in a barrel for safe keeping. Well, he wouldn’t do that, but he would do just about anything to make her his.

She’d been busy all week with dresses and shopping and flowers and preparations. And they hadn’t even spent any time together since their trip into the painting. He supposed it was for the best. Absence made the heart grow fonder and all that. He was feeling damn fond of her right now.

“I suppose we could talk. Can it be done quickly?” Marcus asked. He ushered his soon-to-be father-in-law toward the rear of Robinsworth’s garden. “Is something the matter?” he asked. “It’s not Cecelia, is it?”

Mr. Hewitt shook his head. “I just wanted to tell you thank you,” he said. He looked directly into Marcus’s eyes. His eyes were so much like Cecelia’s. Only there was a shadow of pain in the man’s eyes. Even now, he looked like he was hurting.

Marcus wasn’t at all sure what he was being thanked for.

“Thank you for rescuing Cecelia from me. Thank you for rescuing me from myself.” He stuck out a hand to shake. Marcus took it in his, and the man’s grip was firm and assuring.

“Thank you for letting me have her for a lifetime,” Marcus said. He suddenly had a lump in his throat. “I promise to take care of her.”

“I know you will. You’ll take better care of her than I ever did.”

“That’s not true,” Marcus protested.

But the man held up a hand. “It is true. I just hope she has forgiven me.”

“She has,” said a voice from behind them. Marcus turned to find Cecelia standing in the sunlight. She wore his mother’s wedding dress, or so he’d been told. It shone as if there were prisms of crystal sewn into the material. When she moved, the sun reflected off the gown, spilling rainbows of light all around them.

“Goodness,” Marcus breathed.

Marcus had never seen anyone more beautiful. Cecelia’s dark hair was piled atop her head, with tiny tendrils cascading down her neck. Her ears pointed out through her hair, and she even had her wings displayed. Marcus had almost forgotten how very beautiful they were. She’d been so human in his mind lately that he’d almost forgotten she was fae. That they were fae. That they were part of something so much bigger than themselves.

A blush crept up her cheeks, and her wings pinkened to the same color as her cheeks. He couldn’t wait to see her naked, to touch her wings, and to feel her around him, her magic mixing with his in a way that only their magic together could.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” Mr. Hewitt scolded.

She smiled and slid her hand into her father’s. “I needed to hear it.” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed her father’s cheek. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

“I’ve made you cry on your wedding day,” he said, reaching up to wipe her tear. He heaved a huge sigh. “I had more to say to Mr. Thorne,” he said. “But I suppose I can say it with you here.”

Cecelia nodded, her gaze curious.

Mr. Hewitt said clearly, “If you ever hurt my daughter, I will hurt you.”

Marcus’s eyebrows lifted. He choked on his next words. But then he had to remind himself that when he and Cecelia had a daughter, he would feel exactly the same. “If I do, I’ll deserve it.”

Marcus held his arm out to Cecelia. “Shall we go and get married?” he asked.

But her father knocked his arm out of the way and threaded Cecelia’s arm through his. “She’s still mine until the vicar pronounces you husband and wife,” he said. But he winked at Cecelia, and she beamed under his attention. She needed this. She needed for her father to make amends.

Marcus followed behind the two of them, all the way back to where the family was assembled. Ainsley’s hand was in Allen’s, and they would be next to get married, Marcus was certain. Allen had already spoken to Ainsley’s father, and he almost had the man’s blessing.

Ronald and Milly sat in the back row, and Milly had her hand settled within Ronald’s. Marcus would never get used to that. He’d always assumed Ronald was a solitary individual. But even Ronald deserved someone to love.

Claire and Lord Phineas, and the Duke of Robinsworth and Sophia, along with the duke’s daughter, Lady Anne, took up the second row. The babies were snug in the nursery, thank goodness.

Marcus stepped into place in front of the vicar and held his hand out to Cecelia. She nestled her hand in his, her palms damp and warm. He pulled her close to his side and finally felt like he could take a deep breath. He’d almost missed this. He’d almost given up his chance for a happily-ever-after with this woman.

The vicar’s voice rang out loud and clear. “Wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Cecelia squeezed his hand gently, but he needed no prodding. “I will,” he said. He would. He would. He would again and again and again.

The vicar asked Cecelia the same question as she looked up at Marcus and said, “I will.”

Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring Mr. Hewitt had given him the day before. He slipped it onto her fourth finger, and she looked up at him, a question in her eyes. It was obvious the moment she realized it was her mother’s ring, because tears filled her eyes. Marcus swallowed past the lump in his own throat when Cecelia turned to her father and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

He smiled back, wiping a tear from beneath his eye.

“With this Ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow,” Marcus said. “I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

And it was done. Cecelia was his. She would be his forever and a day. Nothing would ever separate them, save death, and Marcus would fight that with his last breath. Cecelia looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. He picked up her ring and kissed the purple moonstone in its platinum band. “Mine,” he said.

She nodded and stepped up onto her tiptoes to kiss him.

His father coughed into his fist. “Shall we have some cake?” he asked.

Mr. Hewitt chuckled, clapped Marcus on the back with a heavy hand, and said, “I think we should.”

***

Marcus was watching her from across the room. She could feel his gaze on her, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up, as did the fine little hairs on her wings. It wasn’t often she wore her wings in public, but His Grace’s house was apparently fae friendly. The butler didn’t even blink when he walked into the room to find it full of faeries, as Sophia, Claire, Ainsley, and her mother all had their wings on display that day. It was a special day, after all. And they all were safe in the walled garden that was the duke’s sanctuary and in the house.

“Your husband looks like he wants to come over here and steal you away,” Claire murmured, laughing at her.

“Do you have a painting you can shove us into?” Cecelia asked.

“I doubt that would work right now,” Claire admitted, “although I wouldn’t be surprised if he were to come and sling you over his shoulder.”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done so. The last time, it was to get her away from her father. To keep her safe. He would keep her safe always, of that she had no doubts. She never had to worry about him harming her or about him allowing anyone else to do so. Marcus loved her. He’d chased the dream of a family for six months, but he’d realized she was his family and the only one who truly mattered, or so he’d told her. His family would be there later. And now, so would she.

“I wouldn’t complain if he tossed me over his shoulder,” Cecelia admitted.

“Eww,” Sophia complained.

“I want to spend some time alone with him before the celebration.”

“Are you at all afraid that Mayden is going to show up?” Sophia asked both of them.

“Terribly afraid,” Claire admitted. She heaved a sigh. “The man is mad. And he needs to be stopped.”

“Perhaps it was a mistake to invite him to such a gathering,” Sophia mused. “I’m not certain I want him in this house at all.” She shivered uncontrollably, and the hair on Cecelia’s arms stood up.

“Finn will have men all over the place. If nothing else, we can get a warning to his wife tonight, if he even comes. He may not show his face. If he has an ax to grind, he’ll be here. But he may just want to live a quiet life now that his debts have been paid and he’s settled back into society.” Claire nibbled absently at a nail. “He threatened to throw me from the turrets last year,” she said. “He isn’t aware that I can fly.” She laughed lightly.

“Not much use tossing one of us off the tower,” Cecelia agreed.

“Whatever he does, it will be cowardly,” Sophia reminded them.

“Well, this conversation has turned morbid,” Claire chirped. “Happy wedding day, Cecelia,” she said, taking a glass of champagne from a nearby footman. She handed one to each of the other ladies as well. Claire reached out to squeeze her hand. “You’re happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her gaze searching Cecelia’s.

“Despite Mayden and the threat he proposes, I couldn’t be happier,” Cecelia said.

Marcus caught her gaze from across the room. He motioned with his eyes toward the staircase.

She shook her head, laughing. They couldn’t leave their families just because they wanted to be alone. Could they? Definitely not.

***

Marcus nodded toward the staircase again, and Cecelia smiled and shook her head. His sisters looked over at him, and Claire shot him a scolding glance. Sophia shook a finger at him. Good God, would he never get the woman alone? He supposed there would be time enough to spend with her, a lifetime in fact, after the celebration.

He nodded toward the staircase again, and she grinned, shaking her head. Her cheeks pinkened. “No,” she mouthed.

He walked over to her, his gait slow and unhurried. The part of her bosom that was exposed by her bodice flushed, and Marcus wanted to peel her clothing off to see if she was that flushed everywhere.

“Oh, dear,” he heard Claire say. “Your wings are blushing, Cecelia.” She laughed. She was right. Cecelia was a delicious shade of pink.

Marcus put his hand at the small of Cecelia’s back and began to draw tiny circles. She flushed even more. “Worried about tonight?” he asked.

“Which part of it?” she asked.

He leaned down and spoke, his lips moving against the shell of her ear. “The part where I get to show you your wedding gift.”

“Wedding gift?” she asked. “We weren’t supposed to purchase wedding gifts.”

“We needed a house to move into, didn’t we?” he asked.

“You bought a house?” she squeaked.

“Just a small one.” He held his fingers a small space apart. “And I didn’t buy it. I just rented it. I thought you might want to help me pick the house we’ll eventually live in. This one is only temporary.”

“Tired of living the bachelor lifestyle?” she asked.

“Ainsley and Allen will live in our old quarters for a time, after their wedding. It’s not big enough for all of us, and I’m a little plumper in the pockets than Allen right now, so I volunteered to move out. I think you’ll like it.” He looked down at her. “And no one will be around to hear you scream when I have my wicked way with you,” he said softly.

“I do not scream,” she scoffed. But a new blush crept up her cheeks.

“Not yet,” he whispered.

Claire made a gagging noise at the back of her throat. “If the two of you are going to carry on like that, I would suggest that you go ahead and leave. Or I’ll have no choice but to cast up my accounts.”

Marcus looked down at Cecelia. “Do you want to go and see your new home?” he asked.

“What about all the people?” she whispered.

“All the people know what you’re going to do,” Sophia whispered back dramatically. She leaned in to hug Cecelia. “Go. Enjoy the afternoon. You’ll be back tonight for the celebration.”

“No one will mind?” Cecelia asked.

“No one will care,” Sophia said, waving a breezy hand in the air.

And with that, Marcus took her hand and they sprinted for the doorway. As she ran beside him laughing, Marcus’s heart jumped into his throat. God, he loved this woman. He couldn’t imagine living a day without her. Ever.

They reached the waiting carriage and Marcus handed her inside, just before climbing in himself and settling back against the squabs. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a mix of mouths, and her gentle response nearly undid him. “I have missed you so much,” he breathed.

“You’ve seen me every day,” she corrected. “What’s to miss?”

“Now that you’re my wife, I can kiss you anytime I want. I can hold you anytime I want. I can touch you anytime I want.” He touched her shoulder. “When we get home, I want to see you naked with just your wings. I want to touch them.”

“They’re very sensitive,” she whispered.

“I’ll be careful,” he breathed back.

He spent the next ten minutes kissing her, and she was breathless and he was hard as stone by the time they arrived at their new address. It was a small town house in Grosvenor Square. “It’s charming,” Cecelia said.

“Not as charming as you are,” Marcus said, tweaking her nose. “It’ll do for now.” He looked down at her and swooped her into his arms.

“What are you doing, Marcus?” she squealed. “Are you mad?”