The Magic Between Us (Faerie 3)

“That’s not it.” Her face colored.

“How was it?” he asked. It was crude of him. But he had to know.

“Things are fine at home. I just…” Her voice tapered off.

He chuckled. If any kiss with someone else was just fine, he didn’t have anything to worry about. “Kisses shouldn’t be fine. They should be earth-moving. They should make the ground benea

th your feet tremble. They should be like the one we just shared.”

“That can’t happen again.” She looked him in the eye as she said it. “I owe him more than that.”

“Who is it?” It didn’t matter. He would hate anyone who had her heart.

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am not free to marry you. I belong in the land of the fae.”

“No, you don’t,” Marcus snarled.

“Yes, Marcus. I do. I won’t change my mind.”

“We’ll see about that.” He turned and walked away from her. If he didn’t, he’d try to kiss her again, and she wasn’t prepared for that. But one thing was certain. He would never allow her to marry anyone else. Never.

***

Cecelia watched him walk away and heaved a deep breath. Then she sank back against the wall to try to compose herself. That hadn’t gone well. Not at all. She never should have allowed that kiss. But she’d missed the feel of his lips on hers. She’d missed the warmth of his embrace. She’d missed him, for goodness’ sake.

It wasn’t as though he’d given her much of a choice, either. But from now on, she had to keep her distance from Marcus Thorne. She shouldn’t want what she couldn’t have. Her father was at home, and he needed her far more than Marcus did. She picked up the leather queue from the ground and followed him into the street. He had to fix his hair before someone noticed the tips of his ears.

“Marcus,” she called to his retreating back. He turned back, his eyes flashing.

“What?” he barked.

She held out the leather tie. “Your hair.”

He stalked back toward her, gathering his hair into a queue at the back of his neck. He took the tie from her hand and bound it. He felt for the tips of his ears, and she reached up to adjust his hair to cover them.

“There,” she said, dusting her hands together. “Finished.”

He took her chin in his hand and looked into her eyes. “Not even close.”

Seven

Ainsley grumbled from the park bench where she waited. “It’s dusk. Where are Claire and Lord Phineas? We’ve been waiting for hours.” She flopped back against the bench and laid the back of her hand against her forehead.

Allen pulled a watch fob from his pocket and glanced down at it. “We’ve been waiting for five minutes,” he corrected.

“Well, it feels like hours,” Ainsley grumbled. “My feet hurt.”

“Mine do, too,” Cecelia admitted, settling down beside Ainsley.

Marcus leaned close to Cecelia’s ear so that only she could hear. “If we were married, I’d feel led to rub your aching feet for you,” he murmured. His eyes looked down the bodice of her dress. “Among other places.”

Cecelia was certain she’d flushed scarlet, if the look on Ainsley’s face was any indication. Ainsley picked up a hand and started to fan Cecelia’s face. “Goodness.” Ainsley laughed. “What did he say to you?” she asked.

“Nothing that bears repeating,” Cecelia replied. He’d been doing this all afternoon as they scoured the streets of Paris for the elusive Earl of Mayden, who was nowhere to be found. Not a single person had recognized the miniature.

Marcus had started out by brushing her elbow, and then he’d drawn her to his side and told everyone they met who spoke English that he and his wife were searching for her long-lost cousin. He’d slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, and had kissed her soundly on the cheek. And all it had served to do was make Cecelia angry. How dare he? She picked up a rock from the ground beside her foot and threw it at him. He deflected it with a laugh.

“Perhaps another time,” he suggested with a cheeky grin. Cecelia almost smiled along with him, but then she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to find him charming. But he was charming. No matter how much she dearly didn’t want him to be.