Fifteen
Cecelia let Marcus help her back into her clothing, with plenty of pauses for kisses, nips, and licks of appropriate body parts. Then he pulled her between his thighs and brushed her hair until it was silky soft and didn’t look like he’d tumbled her. Several times. She looked much more at ease than she had when they’d arrived at the cabin, and that said a lot to him.
She could be happy with him. He could marry her and life could be perfect.
“Where will you tell your father you’ve been all day?” he asked gently as he turned her to face him and laid his forehead against her stomach, so tightly that his nose was pressed into the soft flesh of her belly. His hands held tightly to her hips. Fear gnawed at his own belly, and he really didn’t want to take her home. He wanted to hide out there with her forever. He wanted to live in that tiny cabin and never leave it again, with Ronald bringing them necessary food and supplies. But such was not to be his lot in life.
She shrugged. “I hadn’t planned to tell him anything. His opinion no longer matters to me.” Her voice was suddenly dull and lifeless, and he wished he had never brought it up.
“What does that mean? How could that be?” he murmured, looking up into her face, his hands still resting on her hips, still holding her close to him.
“My day isn’t over yet. If you try to ruin what’s left of it, I won’t forgive you,” she warned.
He nodded at her. He would get to the bottom of this. If it was the last thing that he ever did, he would figure out what the rift was between her and her father.
“Do you know the time?” she asked.
He pulled his watch fob from his pocket and looked down. “Well past the dinner hour. Your father is probably worried sick.” He stood up and pulled her toward the door. “Come along. I’d better deliver you home.”
She nodded as she looked longingly around the room. “It’s time to go home,” she said quietly.
But she wasn’t broken. Not the way she’d been when he’d brought her there. She had seemed like a kite caught in a summer storm when they’d arrived. And now she was the gentle sun he’d always known, shining directly into his life.
They walked back to her house hand in hand. No one was on the roads between the cabin and town, and even if someone had been, they could have said they’d taken a walk. Rules were a little more lax in the land of the fae. They weren’t lax enough to allow for what they’d done that day, but they could take a walk without a maid. After all, they were trusted to go on missions together.
Responsibility was earned in the land of the fae, as was trust. And if one proved oneself, one gained more and more freedom as the years passed. Not so in the other world, where status was all that mattered.
They walked slowly up the stairs at the front of her house and stopped at the threshold. Cecelia reached up and cupped his face in her palm, looking deeply into his eyes, hers as dark as night in the quiet of the evening. “Thank you for today,” she said softly, and she leaned forward and kissed him. No, this wasn’t a lusty mesh of teeth and tongue. This kiss was affectionate and comfortable.
“You’re welcome,” he said softly.
Mr. Pritchens should have come to open the door for her by now. Where was the man?
A thud sounded from the other side of the door.
“What was that?” Marcus asked.
“One of the maids moving furniture to clean behind it, I’m sure,” Cecelia said with a breezy wave of her hand.
“At this time of the night?” He reached for the door handle, but she covered his hand with hers.
Her eyes looked everywhere but at him as she rushed to say, “You know, I forgot that I’m supposed to be staying the night at Ainsley’s house.”
He pulled back a little to look down at her face. “Why are you staying there?”
“We wanted a little time to catch up. And she wants to talk to me about your brother. I’m pretty sure there’s a courtship going on there that no one knows about.”
“Allen and Ainsley,” Marcus said with a snort. “There’s a match for you.” He shuddered to think of how arguments in their household might be won, with two such strong-minded individuals in residence. Ainsley had a tongue sharp enough to cut glass, and Allen was no slouch when it came to quips. “They’ll kill each other within a year,” he said with a laugh.
She started down the steps. “Ainsley will be waiting for me,” she said.
“Are you certain you want to go there at this time of the night?” It was well past dinnertime.
***
Well, she certainly didn’t want to go home, not with the evidence of her father’s drinking audible from outside the house. She didn’t want Marcus, of all people, to see what her father had become.
By now he would be deep in his cups and belligerent. The thump they’d heard was probably her father throwing himself at one of the footmen. Or shoving furniture. Or trying to thrash Mr. Pritchens. Pity washed over her. Poor Mr. Pritchens. He’d been forced to deal with her father all day while she’d had a wonderful day with Marcus. She couldn’t leave the poor butler with her father the rest of the night. But she couldn’t let Marcus go inside the house, either. Not now.
“Walk with me to Ainsley’s house?” she asked, tugging his fingers to get him away from the door.
“I certainly wouldn’t let you go alone,” he grumbled. He probably knew something wasn’t right. He was a smart man. It didn’t take a genius to realize that something was off.
They walked in silence down the lane until they came to Ainsley’s father’s house. It was small and quaint, and what it lacked in grandeur it made up for with happiness.
Marcus knocked on the door and waited with her for the butler to open it. “Miss Hewitt,” the man said, shocked at her arrival.
“Miss Hewitt is here to see Miss Packard,” Marcus said.
She could speak for herself. She really could. Cecelia squeezed Marcus’s hand and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Without waiting for his response, she slipped through the door, closing it solidly in Marcus’s bewildered face.
She leaned against the closed door as Ainsley’s butler looked at her as though she were bound for Bedlam. But just then, Ainsley skipped down the stairs in her nightrail and robe. She stopped on the middle step and said, “Cece, are you all right?”
The butler watched the two of them closely, and Cecelia nodded her head toward him to warn Ainsley not to say anything that could get back to her household.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Cecelia said. “I know you said to come after dinner, but I got busy with Father and we lost track of time.”
Ainsley nodded slowly. “I’m glad you finally arrived,” she said. She pointed down the corridor. “I was just on the way to get some warm milk. Come with me.”
Cecelia nodded at the butler and walked behind Ainsley, her arms crossed over her chest. She was suddenly freezing. Her perfect day appeared to be over. Reality was returning to the forefront of her life. When no one was about, Ainsley began to warm some milk on the wood stove and asked, “Who are you avoiding? Your father or Marcus?”
Cecelia rocked her head side to side as though weighing her next words. Perhaps she was. “Both?” she asked. “Make one of those for me, will you?” She pointed to the pan of milk.
Ainsley nodded. “I came to see you today. Your father said you were out.”
Cecelia nodded. “Was he foxed yet?”
Ainsley shook her head. “Not yet.”
“Good.”
“Where were you?” Ainsley asked cautiously.
“I went with Marcus to his grandfather’s cabin in the woods and we stayed there all day.”
Ainsley’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t!”
Cecelia couldn’t bite back a smile. “I did!”
“What did you do there?”
Cecelia grinned. “We didn’t play cards,” she laughed.
“And?” Ainsley prompted as she poured warm milk into a cup and handed it to Cecelia.
“We didn’t organize the wardrobes.”
“Did you clean the linens?” Ainsley giggled.
“The linens!” Cecelia cried. There was bound to be some evidence of their day because they hadn’t changed the linens. What the devil was she going to do? She supposed that could wait until the morning. No one would be there before tomorrow.
Ainsley’s brow arched. “And why are you worried about the linens?” she prompted.
Cecelia said quietly. “You know, they say it hurts the first time, but it really didn’t. Only for a moment.” An uninhibited tear rolled down her cheek.
“Oh, Cece,” Ainsley crooned, pulling her friend into her arms. Cecelia could always count on Ainsley. She didn’t ask too many questions. And she always knew when to keep her opinion to herself and just listen. Ainsley set Cecelia back from her after a brief hug and said, “What was it like?”
“Beautiful,” Cecelia breathed. And it had been. It had been everything she’d ever dreamed it would be. “He was warm and sweet and thoughtful, and he kept telling me over and over that he loved me.”
Ainsley suddenly looked worried. “Is that why you did it? Because he made you feel like it was the next logical step?”
Cecelia shook her head. “No, I just wanted one day. And I asked him specifically if we could spend it that way. He wants to marry me.”
Ainsley groaned out her name. “Cece,” she said. “Of course he wants to marry you. You’re amazing. When is the wedding?”
Cecelia shook her head. “We’re not getting married.”
Ainsley’s brows narrowed. “Why not?”
“There’s too much at stake. His world. My world. There’s no way we could make it suit.” She rushed on to clarify. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love him, because I do. I love him more than anything.” She clutched her fist to her chest. “But I can’t marry him.” She took a deep breath and plunged on. “When he walked me home, my father was already foxed. I could hear furniture crashing inside.”
“So you had him bring you here?”
“Well, I wanted to see you anyway. To tell you about it all.”
Ainsley’s face softened. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Thank you for listening.”
“Was it terrifying?” Ainsley asked, her grin nearly infectious.
“It’s a rather daunting appendage,” Cecelia murmured.
“Isn’t it, though?” Ainsley asked.
Cecelia put her hands on her hips and glared at her friend. “And just what do you know of it?”
“Not much,” Ainsley admitted. Her cheeks got all rosy and she said, “Allen kissed me today. I mean, really kissed me. And the… umm… appendage… was hard to mistake.”
Cecelia laughed. “How was the kiss?”
“Hot enough to scorch my hair,” Ainsley said, holding up a lock of her hair. “Was he gentle with you?” she asked softly.
“He’s Marcus,” Cecelia scoffed. “Of course he was.”
“At least he wasn’t a bumbling idiot.”
“He’d never done it before, either. So, we had to figure things out together.”
Heat crept up Cecelia’s cheeks. She wouldn’t tell Ainsley everything.
“What if there are consequences?” Ainsley asked. “Will you marry him then?”
Consequences? Cecelia hadn’t even thought about consequences. Goodness, what if they’d created a child?
“Forgot about that little detail, did you?” Ainsley chided.
“Completely,” Cecelia muttered.
“Marcus is a good man. He’ll take care of whatever needs to be taken care of.”
Cecelia knew he would. But she really didn’t want Marcus to have to take care of anything.
“I need to get home. I don’t want to leave Mr. Pritchens alone with my father all night. Just in case.”
“I’ll have one of the footmen walk with you,” Ainsley said.
“No need. There’s no one about. I’ll run directly home.”
“Are you certain?”
“Completely.” Cecelia crossed the room and hugged her friend tightly. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“You’re welcome.” Ainsley patted Cecelia’s back. “Now run home. Send for me if you need anything.”
Cecelia went out the front door, holding a lantern in her hand as she walked down the road. She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw that the lights of her home had all been doused.
She slipped through the open door and closed it behind her. But she didn’t realize what a mistake it was to come home until a bottle hit the wall directly beside her head and shattered all over the floor.
“Where have you been?” her father bellowed.