A Lady and Her Magic

by Tammy Falkner

  He pretended to think it over. “Could it be that bad?”

  “Oh, it most certainly can,” she ground out.

  He shifted his hips so that the tip of him pressed against her center. “You’re an innocent, are you not?”

  She nodded quickly against his shoulder, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as he pressed a little harder, sliding through her wetness and lodging just barely inside her. She felt the pain of his entrance for no more than a moment. He stilled when she cried out. “Are you all right?” he asked, his breath hot and heavy against her ear.

  Her answer was a tug to his backside, and he slid farther inside her. The burning pain of it was over almost as quickly as it arrived. And with one thrust, Ashley seated himself fully inside her.

  His breath-filled grunt as he stopped startled her. “I need but a moment,” he said quickly. “Or this will be over before it has begun.”

  He stayed still inside her as he let his fingers creep back down her belly and slide into the molten heat between them, and he began to rub that aching nub again. Sophia pressed her lips against his, drinking him in as he began to move his hips in time with his fingers. He pressed her legs a little wider apart and slid ever so much deeper inside her with every thrust. She began to arch to meet him, and he tilted her hips so he could take even more of her, so he could go even deeper. He touched a magical place inside her she hadn’t even known existed. And something she didn’t understand at all began to build within her.

  “Ashley!” she cried against his lips.

  “Sophie,” he grunted in response. He said her name in small whispers again and again as she felt a wave beginning within her. It threatened to crest and smash her to pieces, and finally it did. Sophia broke, crying out as her climax ripped through her. He grew even harder inside her, thrusting slowly in and out of her as she fluttered around him. And when she was done and returning to earth, he stilled inside her, his arms shaking on each side of her, then thrust once more and groaned her name. He spilled himself within her, soaking her walls, making her even wetter than she was. His last thrusts were so pleasurable they neared pain. But then he stopped. He stopped and brushed her sweaty hair from her face. He looked down at her, her blue eyes almost black in the darkness of the room.

  A tear fell from the corner of her eye. “Oh, God, Sophie,” he said, still hard within her. “Did I harm you?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, and a hot tear slid a warm trail down toward the linens, nearly scalding as it traced its path down toward her ear. “You didn’t harm me,” she admitted.

  “You’re certain?” he asked. He looked so worried. She brought his face down to hers and kissed him softly.

  “I just didn’t know it would be like that.”

  “Neither did I,” he said as he slid himself from her still-aching sheath and lay down beside her. He rolled to the edge of the bed and crossed to the nightstand, where he wet a cloth with water and cleaned her. She would have flushed scarlet, if he the room weren’t so dark. He took a moment to clean himself, and then he joined her in the bed. He pulled the counterpane over them both and tugged her into the crook of his arm.

  “Promise you’ll never leave me,” he said as he yawned widely and placed a kiss into the hair at her temple.

  She couldn’t promise that, so she said nothing. She nuzzled her face in closer to his heart and closed her eyes. She would enjoy these final moments, for they would be her last.

  Twenty-Six

  Sophia woke to a soft scratch at the door. She rolled over and halted for a moment because a heavy weight was wrapped around her. She forced her eyes open and smiled as she realized the weight that had her so effectively pinned to the bed was Ashley. His arm draped over her even in sleep. He tugged her to him, and she went willingly, laying her head upon his chest. “You all right?” he asked, his voice groggy from sleep.

  “Shh…” she whispered to him. “Go back to sleep.”

  He nodded sleepily and pressed a kiss into her hair. A soft snore erupted from him, making her smile. But the scratch sounded at the door again. Sophia slid gingerly from beneath his arm and retrieved her chemise. She tugged it over her head quickly and went to the door. She opened it only a crack and looked into Wilkins’s very disapproving face. “Miss,” he said, his voice as cold as a midmorning wind in winter.

  “What is it, Wilkins?” she whispered. She didn’t particularly care if he disapproved of her. But it did sting just a bit to know he didn’t regard her very well.

  “His Grace is needed,” the butler said haughtily.

  “Needed for what?” she hissed back.

  “That would be a discussion for His Grace, miss,” he clipped out.

  “His Grace is sleeping.” She could sound just as haughty as the butler, couldn’t she, if she were of a mind to? “If I feel like it’s worth his waking, I’ll tell him.” She made a come-hither motion with her hands. “Out with it, now.”

  “It’s Lady Anne. She’s having a night terror,” he finally admitted.

  Anne? A night terror. She looked back at Ashley, who slept peacefully. “A moment,” she said and she turned to get Ashley’s dressing gown. She shrugged into it and followed the butler into the corridor, closing the door to Ashley’s chambers quietly behind her. “You’ll have to show me the way,” she warned.

  He looked down his nose at her for a moment, and then gave her a brisk nod. He began to walk, and she followed. She couldn’t help but wonder why Anne’s rooms were so far from His Grace’s, when she seemed to need him so often. But it was not her riddle to solve.

  When they reached Anne’s chambers, Wilkins stepped to the side and bade her to precede him. She did so with no hesitation at all.

  But what surprised her was the voice of her sister Claire as she entered the room. Claire sat in a rocking chair in the corner of the room. “It was rather difficult to convince Wilkins that Lady Anne had need of her father,” Claire bit out. She held a sobbing Anne in her arms. “Now I can see why he didn’t want to disturb him.” Her gaze was full of censure. “Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked, her tone harsh enough to cut glass.

  “Oh, do shut it,” Sophia barked as she held her arms open to Anne. The girl flew across the room and directly into her grasp. She hugged the girl to her and sat back on the bed, drawing her across her lap.

  “There now,” Sophia crooned. “It can’t be that bad, can it?” She very gently brushed the girl’s wet hair from her face. “Has your naughty governess been telling you stories of trolls and snails?”

  “I did,” Claire said, raising her nose high in the air. “But I doubt that’s what brought on this bout of tears,” she clarified.

  “I was falling,” Anne said, her face pressed into Sophia’s shoulder.

  “Well, now you’re not,” Sophia crooned to her. “You’re tight within my arms. All safe and sound.”

  Lady Anne hiccupped against her shoulder and began to quiet.

  “She has night terrors often,” Claire said.

  “Yes, I know. I’m fairly certain she was there when her mother’s accident happened.”

  “It wasn’t an accident,” Anne sniffled. “She was thrown.”

  “I know,” Sophia said quietly, rocking the child back and forth.

  “How do you know?” Claire asked quietly.

  “Her father told me the details,” Sophia explained. “Could you pass me the music box, please?” Sophia held out her hand for the small box and waited patiently for Claire to put it in her hand.

  “That’s the oldest trick in the book,” Claire snorted.

  “And it works,” Sophia sniped back.

  Sophia jostled Anne within her arms very softly. “Anne, I need for you to do something for me,” she said.

  Anne nodded against her chest but didn’t loosen her frantic grip on Sophia.
/>   “I need for you to remember what happened to your mother, only for a moment.”

  Anne closed her eyes tightly.

  “Then I want you to take that memory and put it in this box. We’ll lock it up, and you never have to open it again if you don’t want to.”

  “Fool’s magic,” Claire barked.

  “Shut it,” Sophia warned.

  Sophia nudged Anne. “Go ahead. Put it away.”

  “I can’t,” Anne cried.

  Claire opened her palm and blew across it, and magical dust stirred within the air. It swirled until it formed a picture in the air, a shimmery portrait of a woman with long golden hair falling from the tower. Anne closed her eyes tightly and refused to look at it.

  Sophia reached out and caught the picture in the air, crumpling it between her fists like a piece of parchment. She placed the bit of memory in the music box and closed the lid with a resounding thwack.

  “Take it away,” Sophia ordered.

  With a loud harrumph, Claire got up, sprinkled some dust over the music box to seal it, and placed it upon a high shelf. “You must leave the memories for her for later,” Claire warned. “She may have need of them.”

  “I highly doubt it,” Sophia snorted.

  “You’ve become too attached to this family,” Claire said, her gaze direct and cutting.

  “I know,” Sophia whispered, tears pricking at the backs of her lashes as she hugged Anne to her and held her close. The girl began to drift off to sleep in her arms.

  Sophia looked up at Claire. “I leave on the rising-dawn wind.”

  Claire nodded.

  “Will you stay long enough to be certain the memories are gone?”

  “For the girl or for the duke?” Claire asked.

  “For them both,” Sophia whispered.

  “Do you want me to take his memory of you as well?”

  Sophia bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw pain. “Yes,” she whispered.

  ***

  Ashley woke with a jerk, reached across the bed, and felt for Sophia. Her side of the bed was cold. He bolted upright. Only moments before, she’s been nestled softly within his arms. And moments before that, he’d been inside her. He’d taken her innocence, and she’d taken his. He’d never known a feeling like the way he felt for Sophia, and parts of it scared him to death. But the rest of it felt so right.

  Ashley jumped from the bed and searched for his dressing gown. When he couldn’t find it, he pulled his shirt over his head and donned his trousers, then stepped out into the corridor in his bare feet. He stormed down the hallway, and didn’t stop until he saw Wilkins coming in his direction. “Your Grace,” the butler began.

  “Where is she?” Ashley snapped.

  The butler blanched. “To whom are you referring, Your Grace?”

  To whom did Wilkins think he was referring? “Miss Thorne, man. Where is she?”

  “Which one, Your Grace?”

  Ashley stumbled for a moment over his own thoughts. “How many are there?”

  “Two, Your Grace. The governess. And… yours.”

  His. Yes, indeed. She was his. “Mine,” he bit out.

  “She’s in with Lady Anne.” He nodded down the corridor. Ashley started in that direction.

  As he continued down the corridor, he spotted a lady leaving Anne’s chambers. “Sophie,” he called. Thank God. He thought she’d left him. His heart beat a staccato rhythm within his chest. But the chit looked up and it wasn’t Sophia. She looked a lot like Sophia, however. He tilted her head and regarded her closely.

  “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” he asked.

  She dipped into a quick curtsy. “You’d have to define one of them, Your Grace.” She raised a brow at him.

  “Later,” he murmured. “Where is Sophie?”

  She nodded toward his daughter’s closed door.

  “She hasn’t gone then?” His heart was hammering, as though it desperately wanted to jump from his body.

  “Not yet,” she said cryptically. She turned to walk away. He reached for her arm, loosening his grip when she winced at his hold.

  “How can I make her stay?” he asked.

  “You can’t. She has to want it.” She looked almost sorry for him. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  “I believe she does.”

  “Not enough.” She looked down at where he still gripped her arm and he set her free.

  “Apologies,” he murmured.

  “No offense taken,” she said. Then she started down the corridor. Ashley pressed his forehead against the door of his daughter’s chambers, inhaling and exhaling there in the cold corridor, as though those breaths could be his last. Finally, he eased the door open.

  The scene that greeted him made his heart twist within his chest. Sophia lay beside his daughter in her tiny bed, her body close to Anne’s but not touching her, except where her fingertips played lightly down Anne’s hair. His daughter slept, and Sophia looked at him with a tear in her eye.

  “So lovely,” he breathed, a lump forming in his throat. This was what he wanted. He wanted her in his life forever. In their lives forever.

  “Yes, she is,” Sophia agreed.

  “I was referring to the both of you,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Did she have a night terror?”

  “She did,” Sophia said. “But she won’t have them any longer.” She nodded toward a music box perched high upon a shelf. “The memories are in there. When she’s ready, she can open it and it will be like they never left.”

  “She’s not ready for memories such as those.”

  Sophia smiled softly. “Which is why I took them from her. They’ll no longer plague her.”

  “I’m not ready for memories such as those, either,” he admitted.

  “No one is,” she agreed, her hand still stroking down Anne’s hair. “She sleeps well.”

  “Better than I have seen her sleep in a very long time.”

  Sophia gave him a quirky grin. “My mission is complete,” she said with a shrug. Very carefully, she got to her feet, careful not to disturb Anne. “Helping your daughter was my mission,” she reminded him.

  “But what about me?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last as he drew her into his arms.

  Twenty-Seven

  Ashley lifted his head and looked into her eyes.

  “You were never my mission, Your Grace,” she whispered to him as she brushed that wayward lock of hair from his forehead. She would miss that lock with all her heart. A sob nearly welled from the center of her, but she forced it back. She tried to smile at him, but it was a watery, disastrous effort.

  He inhaled deeply, as though he could breathe her in and make her stay. “You have some time before the morning dawn wind,” he remarked, his eyes moving to the window, where the moon still hung high in the sky.

  “I do,” she said with a nod.

  “Spend it with me. In my arms.” He didn’t ask her. It was a command. One she didn’t intend to fight. She nodded.

  Ashley smiled and brushed her hair from her face, then took her hand in his and tugged her toward the doorway. She protested lightly, taking one more moment to look down at Anne. She looked into Ashley’s face. “She will remember me for a time. But not for long.”

  “Then I shall remind her of you,” he said, his fingers twining with hers, holding her tighter, even with that small grasp. “For you shall never be far from my thoughts.”

  “I’ll be a world away from you.” So close, yet so far away.

  He tugged her into the corridor, as though he was anxious to get her alone. “Exactly how far away?” he asked, a sly grin crossing his face.

  She shook her head. It was not meant to be. “The Trusted Few may never give me leave again. They
may never grant me leave from my world to visit this one.”

  “Your wings?” he asked.

  “At their discretion,” she said with a shrug. “I’d wager that they’ll take them from me. The same way they took my mother’s.”

  “If they do, you can come back to me?” He looked hopeful. Too hopeful.

  She shook her head. “No. I cannot.” She could be carrying his child. If she was, she would never, ever leave the land of the fae again. She would never take the risk her mother had. She would never, ever lose her child. She would live in her land without Ashley and with any child they created, or she would do so alone. If she wasn’t with child, she would still remain there. She would live her life as though she’d never met him. But she had. Oh, yes, she had. She let him draw her into his arms as they entered his bedchamber.

  Ashley tugged at the ties of his dressing gown and shoved it from her shoulders in one quick move. She stumbled against his haste to disrobe her, laughing as he lifted her chemise over her head, and then she stood there, dressed in nothing more than moonlight.

  His eyes grew darker, almost black in the dimly lit room. He reached for her, and she stopped him only momentarily, long enough to disrobe him as quickly as he had taken her clothes off. Within seconds, he was as naked as she, and she led him to the bed with a forceful tug of his fingers.

  With her hands upon his shoulders, she took a step toward the bed, forcing him backward with a gentle shove until he sank into the bed of his own accord. His mouth immediately moved to her breasts, as his arms snaked around her waist and drew her to him. She flung her head back with a laugh, and pushed him to the bed, climbing over him. When they were nose to nose, he cupped the back of her head in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “What can I do to make you stay?” he breathed.

  “Nothing,” she said. She stopped moving. Stopped laughing, stopped loving. Just stopped. “I am not of your world. We were never meant to be.”

  With a quick roll, he drew her beneath him, smothering her gasp with his lips as he growled against them. “Tell me we’re not meant to be,” he said, settling between her thighs. He rocked against her center but didn’t lodge himself inside her. Instead, he stole her breath as he pressed the head of his shaft against that little bundle of nerves that thumped so loudly and made her cry out. “Tell me,” he growled. “Tell me you don’t love me.” He rocked against her center again, small noises leaving his throat as he narrowed his eyes. It was almost as though he could look into her very being.