The Magic Between Us

by Tammy Falkner

  Cecelia ran to him, but Marcus thrust her out of the way. He reached for Mayden, but the man slipped through his fingers. He leaned over the side and caught the sleeve of the man’s coat. He grunted, holding tightly to Mayden’s arm.

  “You can’t save me. No one can,” Mayden grunted, trying to shake loose of Marcus’s grip.

  “I can if you’ll let me,” Marcus ground out. He reached to catch Mayden’s jacket with his other hand. But the material tore, and Mayden wiggled. “Hold still. I’ll pull you up.”

  “Let me go,” Mayden said clearly.

  “I can’t. My wife won’t like it.” His grip was slipping.

  “She’ll have to be angry at you, because I won’t let you save me.” He jerked his shoulder, until he began to slide from the sleeve of the coat. “Thank you for trying,” Mayden said. And then he slipped free of the coat entirely. Marcus reached, trying to catch him as he slid free. But he moved too fast. And then he was gone.

  Marcus ducked back inside the turret, refusing to watch when Mayden hit the ground. A soft thud met his ears, and Cecelia rushed into his arms. Marcus pressed his eyes closed tightly, trying to forget the memory of the way the man looked into his eyes, right before he shook loose of his grip.

  “I always thought he was a coward and so weak,” Marcus breathed.

  “Oh, Marcus,” she said. “He was in so much pain.”

  “I saw some of it,” he said. “Are you all right?” he kissed her forehead. Cecelia sobbed into his shirt.

  “How could he survive after all those years of abuse?”

  “He didn’t,” Marcus said. “Something died within him a long time ago.” He looked at his father. “Will you go and check to be sure he’s not in pain?”

  Claire covered her face with her hands and cried. Then she wiped her eyes and said, “Who would have thought I’d be crying about the Earl of Mayden’s demise?” She laughed, a watery chuckle. “Marcus, you have to be certain he has a funeral. And treat him with respect from here going forward.”

  “I promise we’ll take care of him.” He kissed Cecelia’s forehead again.

  “He wanted absolution,” Cecelia said to the room. “He wanted forgiveness.”

  “Well, he has it,” Lord Phineas and the duke said at the same time. They were the two people he’d wronged the most. And they’d just forgiven him.

  “Can we go home?” Cecelia whispered to Marcus. She kissed his neck softly. “Please. I need you.”

  He needed her, too. More than anything.

  Epilogue

  Marcus held his baby girl, a cloth between him and her because she really liked to cast up her accounts, usually on his shoulder. He looked over at Cecelia and winked. “I think she’s getting hungry again,” he warned. His daughter wiggled in his arms, and he adjusted his grip on her so that he could look into her face.

  “Just because she made a noise doesn’t mean she’s hungry,” Cecelia declared. “If you want to look at my breast, you just have to ask nicely.” She leaned across the picnic blanket and kissed him softly.

  “Haven’t you two figured out that’s where those things come from?” Allen asked, looking toward Marcus’s new daughter. Allen’s eyes shone brightly and he appeared more relaxed than Marcus had ever seen him.

  “There’s more to it than kissing, little brother,” Marcus teased. “Do you need for me to educate you?”

  “Yes, please!” Ainsley cried, from where she lay with her head upon Allen’s knee. His hand rested on her swollen belly. “Because we have no idea where babes come from.”

  Ainsley and Allen had married almost nine months ago to the day. And she was heavily pregnant with their first child. Allen couldn’t be happier. And Ainsley was glowing. Though she was a bit uncomfortable at this point.

  “At least ours will not be a miracle birth after only seven months,” Allen scolded.

  His mother called out from where she raced down the stream with Lady Anne, Sophia, and Claire’s older children toddling behind them. “Seven-month babes are the thing now. In fact, Marcus was so brilliant that he had to be born after a mere seven months himself.”

  “Oh God,” Marcus groaned. “Can we change the subject?”

  “Yes, please,” Cecelia said as she took the baby from his arms. He wrapped his arms around them both. There was nothing better than having his daughter and his wife in his arms at the same time. He’d thought Cecelia made him complete, but it just got better as time went by.

  Claire and Phineas helped to keep the small children from the river. Sophia and Robinsworth had left to walk alone down the river some time ago. Marcus’s youngest sisters, Hannah and Rose, sat on a blanket, both taking turns holding the newest additions to the family. Both Sophia and Claire had new babies.

  “I love it when we’re all together,” Marcus’s mother said as she ran past them, chasing one of the toddling babes.

  “It exhausts me when we’re all together,” Lord Phineas said. He scooped one of the children into his arms, making him squeal. Marcus couldn’t tell them all apart. Not when there were so bloody many of them.

  Marcus’s father lay in the grass, making a chain of daisies. He leaned over and placed it on Marcus’s daughter’s head. She looked up at him, blinking her blue eyes at her grandfather.

  They spent a lot of time in the land of the fae. Marcus and Allen took turns handling their father’s lands in the other world, and they split their time in the land of the fae as well. They made time, however, for days like this when they could all be together.

  Cecelia’s father sat down on the blanket beside Marcus and Cecelia and held out his hands. “Let me hold her. You two can go take a walk or something.”

  Cecelia wiggled her brows so only Marcus could see it. He grinned and pulled her to her feet.

  “Wait,” Lord Phineas said. “We were supposed to be next.”

  “Too late,” Marcus teased. “We have someone to watch our one child.” He pointed to where Mr. Hewitt held his daughter. “The joy of having only one child, Finn. Too bad you’ll never experience that feeling again.” He chuckled loudly.

  “I’m going to call it,” Allen called toward their retreating backs. “Another babe nine months from today!”

  Marcus certainly hoped so.

  Cecelia walked over to the sign that stood by the riverbank and dragged her fingers along the raised letters.

  Unpardonable Errors

  1. Never let a human adult see you in faerie form, unless that human is your spouse.

  2. Never let your dust fall into the hands of the untrained.

  3. Never share the existence of the fae with anyone who might betray the fae world.

  4. Never use your magic to cause harm.

  5. Never be afraid to fall in love with a human.

  The unpardonable errors had changed only subtly, but they had changed, and for the better. Marcus and Cecelia had worked hard in their positions as two of the Trusted Few, and change had overcome the land.

  Beneath the sign were written the words:

  Love deeply.

  Live passionately.

  Magic abounds.

  Marcus slid his hand into Cecelia’s and she squeezed it gently. They looked back at the group gathered on the hillside. The magic between them was stronger than ever, and it would last well past their lifetimes.

  Read on to discover more magical Regency stories by Tammy Falkner:

  A Lady and Her Magic

  The Magic of “I Do”

  Available now from Sourcebooks Casablanca

  From A Lady and Her Magic

  August 1817

  If the Duke of Robinsworth had known it would be so difficult to raise a daughter alone, he never would have killed his wife. He would have coddled her, wrapped her in lace and taffeta, and put her on a shelf so the whole world could view her beauty.


  Even though he’d never admitted it, everyone knew he’d killed her. And though he refused to share the details, they were all correct.

  His daughter broke him from his reverie when she stomped her foot and demanded that he purchase not one, but two, sweets from the vendor.

  Ashley was quite used to the antics of his daughter, and although they were annoying, they never bothered him overmuch. When she became too unruly, he simply left her with a nurse. If it happened at home, he left the manor. He’d even left the country once. But she was always there when he returned, always just as petulant as she had been the day he left. He’d resigned himself to the fact that she would never change.

  Anne was a perfect re-creation of his late wife. Her long blond curls danced around her face. Her porcelain skin and blue eyes reminded him of a doll he’d seen once in a shop window. The only difference: the doll didn’t have a temper like Anne. Yes, she had inherited that from her mother, too.

  When Anne was younger, she would drop to the ground and kick and scream when she didn’t get her way, flopping about like a fish out of water. Now she simply scrunched up her pert little nose and screeched.

  Ashley winced as she shrieked out the words, “I want it!”

  He took a step toward the child, fully prepared to throw her over his shoulder and drag her back to her nurse, who waited on a park bench nearby, when a woman stepped forward. His breath caught in his throat as she entered his line of sight. She was the opposite of his late wife, who’d been blond and thin and fragile.

  His gaze traveled over the woman’s rounded hips to her ample breasts, nearly hidden among the frills and folds of her light-blue gown. He lingered there, imagining how she would look in a gown that didn’t have quite so many trimmings hiding her curves. When his eyes finally rose to meet hers, her flashing hazel orbs held censure. Ashley coughed into his hand in a horrible attempt to hide the smile that wanted to erupt. It had been years since he’d been so well scolded. And she’d yet to even speak to him.

  Before he could say a word to her, the auburn-haired nymph looked down her nose at his daughter and said, “Ladies do not shriek.”

  His own little termagant rolled her eyes in a horrid display of social ineptitude.

  The woman raised her eyebrows at Anne and said, her voice a bit crisper, “Ladies do not roll their eyes.”

  “But I want another,” Anne snarled, stomping her foot.

  The beautiful woman smiled at his daughter, a dimple appearing in her left cheek. People very rarely smiled at Anne because she was so obnoxious that most gentlewomen turned from her in disgust.

  “May I tell you a secret?” she asked of Anne. Then she looked at Ashley, who nearly fell over trying to avoid leaning toward her so he could hear her soft voice as she spoke to Anne. “Do you mind?” she asked, smiling as she asked him for permission to speak to the girl.

  “No,” Ashley said, waving his hand negligently. “You may disclose all the secrets you wish.” He wanted to add that she could whisper a few in his ear as well, but he assumed she’d take that as an insult.

  She knelt down to Anne’s level and whispered in her ear. Anne’s nose turned down slightly until she suddenly smiled. She covered her mouth with her fingertips and giggled.

  “Go on.” She nudged Anne forward. “Try it.” She shot Ashley a quick look that encouraged him to play along.

  Anne tugged gently on his sleeve. “Yes, Anne?” he said quickly, finding it painful to tear his gaze away from the stranger long enough to look down at his own daughter. But when he did, he was surprised to see the pleasant smile that curled her lips.

  “Papa, may I please have another treat? I regret to inform you that they are pitifully small.”

  Ashley glanced up at the lady, who smiled at what must have been his perplexed look. He stared at her for a moment, unable to draw his eyes away, until Anne tugged at his sleeve and whispered, “I should like to grow up to be as sweet as the lady someday.”

  Ashley turned to the street vendor and asked for two more treats. He promptly gave one to his daughter, who was delighted by her newfound ability to win her father’s favor. Then he looked over at the lady who’d transformed his daughter and winked.

  ***

  Sophia felt certain she turned ten shades of red when the man turned and winked at her. It was such a masculine gesture, and not one that was commonly tossed in her direction. Of course, considering that he was the Duke of Robinsworth, Ashley Trimble, to be more exact, it was completely fitting.

  It did gratify Sophia a bit to see that the child took her advice and approached her father in a gracious and respectful way. She smiled softly when he placed the treat in the girl’s hands and bent to kiss her forehead.

  Sophia turned to walk away but heard quick footsteps behind her. “Miss?” The child called for her. Sophia looked down at her smiling face. She held up a second treat and said, “My papa said this one is for you.”

  Sophia hesitated for a moment before she took the wrapped square from the child. “Thank you very much.”

  “Wait.” When the girl’s father’s voice reached her, it hit her like a runaway horse, making the hair on her neck stand up and her belly drop toward her toes. His quick footsteps hurried across the cobblestone walk toward her. He stopped, his blue eyes darting to and fro in the nearly empty park. “If your chaperone sees me speak to you, I fear she’ll steal you away almost as quickly as you appeared.” He let the last trail off as he waited for her to fill the empty space.

  Quite the opposite. Her grandmother had contrived the scheme so they could meet in the first place. “I appreciate the flattery, but I have not required a chaperone for a number of years. We do things differently where I’m from, you see.”

  “And where might that be?” His blue eyes danced at her.

  Unpardonable Error Number Three: Never share the existence of the fae. “I’m certain you’ve never heard of it.”

  His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Should she extend her hand to him? Try as she might, she was unable to remember all the social proprieties this world was based upon. Her grandmother had repeatedly tried to drill them into her throughout the years. And failed. “My name is Sophia Thorne, Your Grace,” she finally provided.

  His gaze grew shuttered at the words “Your Grace,” almost as though a heavy curtain dropped between them that was difficult to see through. She wished she could bite the words back as soon as they left her lips.

  “My reputation must precede me,” he said as he looked away. Sadness suddenly overwhelmed his features. “I’ll let you be on your way.” He bowed slightly and turned from her.

  “Your Grace?” Sophia called. He stopped and looked back over his shoulder, no hint of the playfulness she’d seen earlier present in his gaze.

  “I’ve never rested much faith upon the opinions of others, Your Grace,” she said slowly. “I prefer to draw my own conclusions.”

  A sardonic smile broke across his face. “You could very well ruin your reputation by being seen in my company, Miss Thorne.”

  She shrugged. “One must have a reputation in order to ruin it, Your Grace. And to be more succinct, one must care.”

  A smile that might be genuine slowly lifted the corners of his lips. “I thank you for the help with my daughter. How did you do it?”

  She shrugged again. She’d simply treated the child with respect and firmness, both of which the girl was surely lacking. But that was neither here nor there. “Most women learn to manage men at an early age,” she laughed. “It appears as though your daughter has not.”

  “Not until today.”

  “I was happy to help.” Sophia held up the wrapped square of candy. “And these are my favorite,” she admitted, unable to keep from smiling at him.

  The little girl tugged at her father’s sleeve. “Can we go home now, Papa?”

  The duke pulled his w
atch fob from his pocket and flipped it open. “Actually, I do have some things to attend to,” he said apologetically as he touched the top of his daughter’s head. “Tell Miss Thorne good-bye and thank you,” he instructed her.

  Instead of dropping into a curtsy, the girl locked her arms around Sophia’s waist and squeezed. Sophia was almost too surprised to return the embrace.

  “Perhaps I’ll see you again another day,” she said to the little blonde.

  “I can only hope,” the duke said quietly, his gaze meeting hers only briefly before he turned away, took his daughter’s hand, and started down the lane that led to the entrance of the park.

  Sophia took a moment to catch her breath. It wouldn’t do for her to swoon in the middle of the park. Not at a mere suggestion from the dangerous Duke of Robinsworth. The man was a walking scandal. A walking scandal that made her pulse pound so loudly she could hear it.

  “Well, that went better than I expected, dear,” her grandmother said as she stepped into her line of sight.

  “Better than I thought,” Sophia lamented.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to feign the mannerisms of the British ton. But you did fairly well.”

  She certainly still had a lot to learn about this world. The land of the fae might look similar, but none of its magic was present in this world. Here, people wore full clothing, and not a single one of them had wings or pointy ears the way she did. Just willing her own wings away was difficult and not something she usually had to concentrate so hard to do.

  “He seemed discontent about my lack of a chaperone,” Sophia said. “Do you think I need one, to look like one of them?”

  “Perhaps we should have Margaret shadow you a little more,” her grandmother suggested.

  Sophia moaned. The idea of Margaret watching everything she did made her nervous. The house faerie didn’t like this world or anything about it, including its people. The maid wouldn’t say why, but she had a feeling it had something to do with Sophia’s mother. “I need to learn to walk like them.”