A Lady and Her Magic

  “That’s an old wives’ tale, Mother,” Lady Ramsdale scolded. Her mother scolded. Would she ever get used to that? Perhaps with time. Her mother covered one side of her mouth with her hand, as though she had a secret to impart. But she spoke loudly. “It’s also said that moonbeams are just as lucky.”

  “It’s lucky just to be of the fae,” Grandmother said a she cupped the side of Sophia’s face. “I know you never felt that way before.”

  She never had. She’d concentrated on the loss, and not on the fortunate parts of her life. She’d concentrated on her missions and on the tasks set before her by the fae. But she’d never taken the time to actually enjoy her life. She planned to enjoy every moment with Ashley and Anne. Every single one.

  “Help me to dress, Margaret?” Sophia asked, watching the woman closely.

  “Yes, miss,” the house faerie said quickly as Sophia took the dress from her grandmother and slipped behind the screen in the room. She turned back to her grandmother and her mother. “Would you mind leaving me alone with Margaret for a moment?” She made a nod toward the door.

  Her mother looked wounded, but only for a second. “May I return when you’re dressed?”

  “Of course.”

  Sophia waited until they were gone and the door had closed softly behind them. Then she approached Margaret, waited until she turned to look at her, and then took her maid’s hands in her own. Margaret looked everywhere but at her as Sophia tried to catch her gaze.

  “Look at me,” she finally said. Margaret looked at her fully. “You have been a friend to me my whole life.” Margaret tried to pull back. But Sophia tightened her grip upon her maid’s hands. “And even more than that, you have been a mother to me.” A tear trickled down Margaret’s cheek.

  “You have a mother,” Margaret said. She refused to look at Sophia as she sniffled.

  “I do, and I am lucky to have her in my life now. But you stood in her stead for such a long time. So, please allow me to say thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

  “I don’t like passing you off to the hands of a human. I didn’t like doing it with your mother. And I don’t like it with you.” She finally looked Sophia in the eye. “Where will you live? Here or there? Will you have children? Will you raise them to be fae or to be human? Will I ever see you again after you leave this world?” She was squeezing Sophia’s hands even harder than Sophia squeezed hers.

  “When I have children, I will want you to be with me. I cannot raise my children without you. Wherever I am, I hope you will be. With what Robinsworth has done here, we will be able to come and go at will, rather than at the whim of a few old men.” Sophia laughed softly. “Times, they are changing.”

  “What if I don’t like change?” The maid gave a watery chuckle.

  “I don’t think we have much choice at this point. Will you help me dress?”

  ***

  Ashley waited beneath the arbor, so intent upon seeing her that he could not draw his eyes from the church courtyard entryway. “Hmm… Perhaps she changed her mind,” one of the Trusted Few said.

  “She had better not,” Lord Ramsdale grunted. He stood beside Ashley beneath the arbor. A grub worm poked its head from the earth and chattered at them. “What the hell was that?” the viscount asked.

  “No idea,” Ashley muttered.

  “He’s offended by your frantic pacing,” Ronald said. “He actually threatened bodily harm if you don’t stop it.”

  “Bodily harm from a grub worm?” Ashley shot an incredulous look at the gnome.

  Suddenly, the earth shook beneath his feet. Ashley held out his arms to the side to steady himself. “Don’t tell me,” the viscount muttered.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The gnome whistled innocently.

  No matter how long he stayed in the land of the fae, Ashley would never grow used to the magic, he feared. His daughter, on the other hand, was quiet enchanted by it all. “Are you certain Anne is all right with your wife?” She didn’t know Lady Ramsdale, after all.

  “My wife is enjoying every moment. And I’m certain Anne’s fine. You can stop your worrying about it.”

  Just then, a sparkle from the entry to the church courtyard caught Ashley’s eye. It was gone in a flash. Then it reappeared. Well, Sophia appeared. It was as though she appeared in bits and pieces, as shimmery as her magic. When the whole of her took shape, he looked at her and he couldn’t believe his eyes. She was dressed in white and sparkled like a diamond, and holding hands with her was his daughter, Anne.

  “Hi, Papa,” Anne cried with a small wave. She was dressed in something the likes of which he’d never seen. It was tightly fitting, and the skirt hung only to her knees where it drifted in wavy, detached pieces of fabric. “They let me have a fae dress,” she exclaimed. “Do I look beautiful?”

  It was almost too hard for him to answer. To do so, he’d have to draw his gaze from Sophia. But he forced himself to look at his daughter and praise her appropriately. “Do you have a bit of fae in you, Anne?” he said as he crouched down on one knee.

  “No wings,” she whispered back.

  “I don’t have any either,” he whispered.

  “But I saw some. They’re real.”

  “I know they’re real,” he affirmed. “I have seen them myself.”

  “Can I have some one day?” She cocked her pretty little head to the side.

  He shrugged. “I believe anything may be possible in this land.”

  Just then, the birds began a song, a most melodious song, and Ashley wondered at the way they had lined up along the top of the fence posts. But then, a row of turtles joined them, each holding curved drumsticks, and they began a basic rhythm on their backs. They were joined by spiders that made four silken strings, each several feet in length. Upon these strings sat a handy little bug, which Ashley didn’t even recognize. The bug began to pick at the strings, until he found a rhythm to match the rest of the symphony.

  Sophia clapped loudly. Then she leaned close to him and whispered. “They haven’t done this in years. This must mean that the balance is being restored. They’re happy.”

  Ashley tucked a lock of hair behind her pointy ear. Would he ever get used to their differences? He supposed not. But life would never be boring. “Are you happy?” he asked softly.

  “I’d be happier if I could marry you as myself,” she said quietly. “But this will have to do.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “I wish I could show my wings,” she whispered for his ears alone.

  “Why can’t you?” he whispered back.

  “Because they’re the wrong color,” she murmured, flushing as she remembered why the color change had taken place.

  “I love you no matter their color. And I think you should be proud of them, because it was only by our actions that I arrived here. We’re together. And we’re making it legal.”

  Sophia appeared to mull it over. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and worried it. If she did that much more, he would have to kiss it. She closed her eyes, and within seconds, her wings appeared. Her grandmother’s antique dress was laden with fae magic, so her wings didn’t disturb the beauty of the dress. They were the color of her skin. They flushed as much as she did. They weren’t pink. Or red. Or any other telling hue. “I don’t understand,” she murmured, shaking her head.

  Her mother stepped up beside her. “You love him.” That was all she said. As though the answer could be found in those three little words.

  “Was that fact ever in question?” Ashley asked, arching one playful brow at Sophia.

  She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Never,” she confirmed with a smile. She turned to her mother. “But I don’t understand. What does love have to do with it?”

  Her mother rolled her eyes. “The fae are an odd lot.
They honor valor and deeds much more than ceremonies. For them, this ceremony isn’t even necessary. They’re only doing it because your father insisted upon it.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “You did what lovers do. You committed yourselves to one another in the most basic way possible. You did it with forethought, and you did it despite the risk. It sealed the two of you together. Your wings are a reflection of what’s in your heart.” She looked longingly over her shoulder. “I wish I still had mine.”

  Ashley looked at Lord Ramsdale, who looked up at them with a grin. “You haven’t given them to her yet,” he said to Sophia’s father.

  Lord Ramsdale’s face flushed. “I was waiting for the right time,” he said. Then he reached into his pocket and held out a box. “Your father took these from you. And he wanted to be the one to return them to you. But with the way events transpired…” He let his voice trail off. It had been a fortnight since the old man’s passing, and his death and the respect they owed him was the only reason Sophia and Ashley’s wedding hadn’t taken place sooner.

  A tear trickled down Sophia’s cheek. “You should open it,” she whispered to her mother.

  Sophia had come so close to losing her own wings. She was the only one who could even begin to sympathize. But Lady Ramsdale put the box in her pocket and patted it reverently. “I’ll save them for later.”

  “Open it,” Sophia protested.

  “This is your day,” Lady Ramsdale said. “And I’m afraid they’ll feel foreign to me. I’d like to open them in private.”

  Sophia nodded as though she understood.

  Ashley looked down into Sophia’s smiling face. “You plan to make an honest man of me today, don’t you?” He shot a sly glance toward her father. “If you say no, I’m afraid he’ll resort to fisticuffs.”

  “Let’s get married, shall we?”

  Thirty-Four

  Sophia squealed as Ashley scooped her up in his arms. “Put me down,” she cried.

  “Not on your life,” he growled low in her ear. “I have waited for deaths, bereavement, negotiations, settlements, a wedding, and a party afterward, and I plan to wait no longer.” He kissed her soundly.

  The door opened soundlessly at the little cottage by the river. “Magic?” he asked, raising his brows as he looked down at her.

  She snorted. “More like a butler. Smythe, you can come out from behind the door!” she called. A cheeky, red-faced young man poked his head around the side of the door.

  “Congratulations, Your Grace,” he said with a bow and a grin.

  “Someone in the land of the fae respects a title,” Ashley mused. “I never would have expected it.”

  “I respect your title,” Sophia said, as she tugged his cravat, bringing his head down to kiss her. When they were over the threshold, he lowered her feet slowly to the floor. She hadn’t been alone with him for a fortnight.

  A cough behind them reminded them they weren’t alone now.

  Ashley groaned in frustration. “Smythe, my fine fellow, I do hope I won’t offend you when I tell you to get the hell out.” He held Sophia close to him, as though he didn’t want to let her go.

  “Not a bit, Your Grace. I have left provisions for you.”

  Ashley looked around. “Where?”

  Smythe’s face colored. “In the bedchamber, Your Grace,” he said, flushing even more.

  “Perfect place,” Ashley murmured against her lips. “Where is this bedchamber, Smythe?” he asked. He cupped the side of Sophia’s face in his hand gently and tipped it up to his.

  “Top of the stairs and to the right, Your Grace,” the butler said. He looked everywhere but at them.

  “Good-bye, Smythe,” Sophia called to him. He made quickly for the door and was out it before Sophia could smother a laugh.

  “You think this is amusing, do you?” Ashley asked as he spun her around and began to unfasten the back of her gown.

  “Goodness, Ashley,” she teased. “I thought you might have some finesse.” She giggled. “Be careful with my gown,” she warned. “It was my grandmother’s.”

  “And you looked beautiful in it. But I bet you will look even better out of it.” He laughed. Goodness, he was engaging when he laughed. It made her want to laugh along with him.

  When he had her standing in nothing but her chemise, he picked her up in his arms again and started for the stairs. “I’ll use some finesse the second time. Or the third time. Or the fourth.”

  Sophia threw her head back and laughed, swinging her feet in the air as he took the stairs two at a time. “Promises, promises,” she teased.

  “Whose house is this?” he asked absently as he walked into the bedchamber.

  She shrugged as she watched him disrobe. “Grandfather’s hunting lodge,” she said. He tugged off his cravat with no care whatsoever. “Simmons will be angry at you if you destroy all your clothing.”

  “These aren’t mine, remember? And Simmons will be overjoyed when he learns that he gets to purchase a brand-new wardrobe for me. And one for the fish as well!” Ashley flung clothing with abandon until he finally stood before her in nothing but his smalls. His gaze was predatory.

  “I wish we had a pianoforte so you could play for me,” she said, biting back a grin.

  “A time like this and all you can think about is the pianoforte.” He jerked her to him quickly, which made her laugh even more. “I’ll play you like a pianoforte,” he warned as he tilted his head, growled into the side of her neck, and scrubbed her with his bristly evening whiskers.

  His hands began to ruche the fabric of her chemise in his fingers, lifting the hem of it higher and higher until he stopped at her hips. He kissed her, a kiss that could have touched her soul if she wasn’t so nervous.

  “Are you quite all right?” he asked, pulling back to look at her.

  Sophia stepped onto her tiptoes and threaded her hands around his neck and into his hair. “Quite all right, Your Grace. But I’m wondering how much longer you’re going to play with my unmentionables.” She tugged lightly at his hair. “Take it off me, already,” she whispered against his lips.

  With a low moan of contentment and a smile, he unthreaded her arms from around him, lifted the chemise over her head, and tossed it to the floor. Then he shoved his smalls down over his hips and stepped out of them. “Does that satisfy you, my duchess?” he asked. His hands crawled deliciously around to cup her bottom, and he yanked her against him.

  “Do I look satisfied?” she asked playfully. His steely blue eyes darkened, the centers growing more prominent until his eyes were as dark as the shadowed room where they stood bathed in candlelight.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he crooned.

  “Now you plan to wax poetic rather than take me to bed?” she asked.

  He picked her up by her bottom, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist, and he crossed to the bed. He fell onto it, landing on top of her with her legs wrapped around him. His hardness pressed against her heat and she rocked, trying to get closer to him.

  “Do you know why I fell in love with you?” he asked, bending his head to take her nipple into his mouth.

  “Goodness, Ashley,” she warned. “Let me concentrate on one thing at a time, will you?”

  He stopped and lifted his head. “Will you give me grief for the rest of my life?”

  She tugged lightly at his hair, pulling him back down to her breast. “Someone has to do it. Everyone else is afraid of the dangerous Duke of Robinsworth.”

  “And…” He raised his head. “That. Is. Why. I. Love. You.” He punctuated his words with licks across her nipple.

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  He growled low in his throat. “I could eat you in one big bite. I do save those for the noninnocents, you kno
w.”

  “So I have heard.” He began to kiss a slow path down her stomach, making it clench in anticipation. “What are you doing?” she asked as his head descended farther and farther.

  “Devouring you,” he replied, his voice muffled against her skin.

  “Ashley,” she cried as he spread her thighs even wider and settled between them. His thumbs parted her, and he gazed down at her. “Don’t,” she protested, mortified at his perusal. She shoved at his shoulders.

  But then he licked across the center of her. “I bet I can change your mind,” he murmured as he slid two fingers inside her. It had been a fortnight since he’d taken her innocence, since he’d loved her so completely. But this was unlike anything they’d shared before. “Trust me,” he said, his voice buried in the heat of her.

  Ashley’s tongue dipped, taking her to a place she’d never been. Her sheath clenched upon his fingers as he found that little ball of tension and began to worry it with his tongue. Sophia clutched the linens into her fists and lifted her legs more comfortably around his shoulders. “Ahh,” she cried out as he sucked that little nub of pleasure into his mouth and worked his fingers inside her. “Don’t stop!” she cried as sensation swelled within her.

  He murmured something unintelligible from between her thighs.

  Sophia arched to meet him, anxious to get to the peak. She threaded her fingers into his hair, pushing his head in a rhythm she liked. He drew deeper on her flesh and pierced her deeper with his fingers, scissoring his fingers and setting a rhythm better than any song he’d ever played for her. The crescendo swept over her, and she bucked against his hold as she quaked around his fingers. His mouth slowed only marginally, content to take everything she had.

  His ministrations quieted, and she sagged against the linens, willing her breaths to slow. His beard stubble abraded her inner thigh as he wiped his mouth there, and then he climbed up her body. “Better than any pianoforte I ever played,” he said as he settled between her thighs. He raised one knee up toward her chest and then probed at her center. “Mine,” he said as he slid slowly inside her.