The Magic of I Do (Faerie 2)

Footsteps sounded at the other end of the corridor. “Please hurry. Someone is coming.”

He stood there like a dolt, holding her in the air. So, she clambered out of his arms and jumped head first into the painting.

***

Finn stood there in the corridor, wondering what the devil he’d just witnessed. But then a slim hand reached through the painting and motioned him forward. He took it in his grip and tried to pull her back through. But she held firm. She released his hand, shook her finger at him, and motioned him with a crooked finger again. She held her hand still in the air, and he took it reverently. Any sort of trouble could befall her in there. He had to go with her to be sure she was safe, didn’t he? He counted to three and leaped into the painting to join her.

Finn had a little experience climbing out of windows from his more debauched days, but the oak floor he landed on was much harder than the ground. He rolled into his shoulder and onto his back. Claire stood looking down at him with her hands on her hips.

“Hello,” she said with a tiny wave.

Seventeen

Claire looked down at him. He deserved accolades for being open-minded enough to dive into a painting, particularly since he hadn’t even known magic existed until a few months ago, and he’d had very little exposure to it.

He didn’t make any attempt to get up from the floor. He just lay there and gazed up at her. “Would you like a hand?” she asked.

“No,” he grunted, rolling his shoulder. “I think I’ll just lie here for a bit. Don’t mind me. I just fell through a magical portal into a painting.” He shrugged and twisted his mouth in a most amusing fashion. “Happens to me every day. I should be used to it by now.”

Claire sank down on her haunches and looked at him. “I couldn’t think of any other place to go.”

“A carriage ride wouldn’t have been enough for you? A trip to the park?” He grimaced again. “No, you would only settle for diving head first into someone’s library.” He sat up on his elbows and looked around. “What is this place?”

Claire looked around. She wasn’t entirely sure. “Some lady’s sitting room, maybe?”

“How did we get here?” He lumbered slowly to his feet, dusting himself off as he stood up.

“We jumped,” she replied. “Don’t you remember?” She reached for him. “You didn

’t hit your head when you fell, did you?” She riffled her fingers through his hair. “Never mind,” she said, as she stepped back. “Nothing could harm that hard head. I need not have worried.”

“Very amusing,” he said, but a grin formed on his lips. “Can we go back?”

“I don’t want to go back yet,” Claire said. “Let’s wait until my parents are gone.”

“Is this a house?” Finn asked. He walked toward the walls, but when he touched one, his hand sunk as though into mist. “That’s a bit odd.”

“This whole situation is odd.”

“So, the room isn’t part of a house?” He touched the mist again and then pulled his hand back.”

“No, it’s just a room with furniture. No real barriers. If you walk out of it, you end up nowhere.” She sat down on the settee and kicked her shoes off, then pulled her legs up beneath her skirts. “This must be a figment of someone’s imagination. If it were a real place, we could walk around it just as we could any other place.” He looked askance at her. “In other words, we can walk into places that are real and be in the real place, via the painting. But if the place isn’t real, it’s just…” She held her hands out to the sides. “Like this. Do you remember the night I tumbled into your room? I went there through a painting.”

“You had a painting of my chambers?”

She still didn’t understand that part. Not completely. “No. Just a painting of a door. It just happened to be your chambers on the other side.”

“How do we get back?”

“The magic always gives me a frame to climb back through.” The only time it hadn’t was the night she’d tumbled into his room. She pointed to the painting on the wall. It was a painting of the corridor they’d come from. Nothing more.

“How does it work?” He looked closely at the painting, but when he touched his hand to it, it was firm.

“It only works for me,” Claire said. “I don’t understand why it works. But it does. When I was four, my grandparents put a paintbrush in my hand, and as long as I had that paintbrush and some magic dust, I could go into any painting I chose. They took the paintbrush from me after I went away for a sennight. I’d launched myself into a kitchen I’d painted, and it was filled with food and drink. I knew they’d be angry at me after I’d been gone a day, so I stayed a while. When I finally came home, they took the paintbrush from me and hid it.”

“And you have said paintbrush now?” He looked from one hand to the other.

Claire patted her thigh. “Tucked in my garter.” She laughed at the bemused look on his face. She had to give him credit, though. Not many men would have jumped through a portal with her.