The Magic Between Us (Faerie 3)

“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.

Twenty-Two

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 celebrat

ion 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.